by John Gray
Oscar continued to stare, not saying a word.
Chase then, “I saw lots of photos of your family, but there was only one with both you and Paul in it. Your family was donating money to a school for the deaf in Queens. I’m guessing Paul went there and because you loved him, you wanted to be there for him that day.”
Chase got down on one knee in front of Oscar, taking his hand in hers, “It’s no wonder you worked so hard to help Bella and did so much for Charlie.”
Oscar’s eyes looked away, a sense of shame on his face.
Chase assured him then, “Please understand, I’m not here to hurt you; I just want you to stop pretending you’re someone you’re not.”
He gave Chase a half-smile, then let out a large sigh as if the weight of the world had been taken off his shoulders, saying, “I’d like that too.”
Everyone in the café continued to stare in silence, unclear on what was happening. Chase stood up, looked over at Raylan, who was watching quietly, and said, “Raylan, I’d like you to meet Peter Philmont.”
Raylan turned his head toward the man he’d known for years as “Oscar,” his face an expression of absolute bewilderment. He just stared, then finally asked, “Peter Philmont, from the war?”
Peter, the charade now over, stood up and faced Raylan and said, “Yes. It’s me. And before you speak or get upset, please allow me to explain.”
As a Marine, Raylan had trained himself how to control emotion and not overreact, so he summoned that ability as he slowly crossed the café floor and took a seat at the table near Peter, saying calmly, “I’m listening.”
Chase stepped away, allowing the two men to have a conversation that took a decade to finally happen.
Peter started, “I’m not sure where to even begin. I guess the best place is the day we met.”
Raylan interrupted, “Do you remember anything from that day, what happened?”
Peter continued, “Yes, parts of it. We were on forward patrol and there was an explosion. I was dizzy and confused and realized I was upside down in the truck. I also felt warmth on my leg, which I learned later was blood from a wound on my thigh. I knew I was in trouble but I couldn’t get my hands to work, I was shaking so bad. That’s when I felt someone grab hold me and pull me out. I was face down in the dirt so I couldn’t see who had me, only that I was being dragged to safety.”
Raylan nodded, “That’s right. Anything else?”
Peter continued, “After I was patched up, I asked my commander to find out who saved me, and all I got was a name, Raylan. It’s a unique name, not one you forget.”
Raylan nodded silently then, “Go on.”
Peter again, “They told me this Raylan was from another unit, a Marine, and he got burned pretty badly in the fire pulling me and my friend out.”
Raylan touched the scar on his right cheek and just nodded in obvious agreement.
Peter continued, “I tried to find you at the camp medical tent, but they had already shipped you out to a real hospital. So, I tried to put it out of my mind, finish my tour, go home and return to my life. My family owns an oil company.”
Raylan replied, “Yes, I know.”
“But I couldn’t go back to it,” Peter continued. “My life before, I mean. After nearly dying that way, I had no interest in running an oil business. We were already rich—what was the point?”
No one interrupted, so Peter continued, “I’m not a religious man, Raylan, but I do believe in God and I figured he wanted me saved from that truck and fire for some reason, and it wasn’t to sit in a board room and count stacks of money.”
Chase finally spoke, “So what did you do?”
Peter spoke in a much friendlier tone to Chase now. “I started a charitable foundation at the company, and we awarded grants all over the city to needy causes, giving money to places like the school where my brother went. You were right about that, by the way; he spent six years there.”
Everyone was silently listening, so Peter continued, “I helped the homeless shelter around the corner from here. I didn’t want them knowing I had money or treating me different, so I went there dressed down, like this, my Oscar outfit, you could call it. When I saw the good work they did, I decided I wanted to become a volunteer and help even more.”
Deb, listening to all of this, interjected, “So that’s why you collect cans and bottles?”
Peter replied, “Yes, Deb, that’s why.”
She shot back, “But you’re rich! Why not just write a check to them?”
Peter smiled again, “You sound like my family now. I could write a check, but I’d have no skin in the game. It’s easy for a rich person to use money to wash away sins. It’s another thing to roll up your sleeves and actually help.”
Chase asked, “What sins?”
Peter looked back at Raylan and his scar. “My life cost him that. And for that I owe.”
Matthew, Chase’s driver, who had been listening to everything from the start, then asked, “I have a question, Peter. Can I call you Peter?”
Peter nodded, “Of course. Although people do call me Oscar.”
The whole room laughed now as Matthew asked, “I’m wondering, Peter, there’s a million coffee shops in New York City. How did you end up in this exact one? Did you know Raylan owned it and was the man who saved you?”
Peter looked back at Raylan. “No, not at first. I started collecting cans and bottles in the neighborhood, and eventually I came in here, and after a few visits I met the owner. I saw the scar, but lots of people have scars. Then one day he shook my hand and said, ‘Oh, by the way, my name is Raylan.’ Well, that was just too much of a coincidence, but still, I couldn’t be sure.”
Raylan, half smiling now, said, “So why didn’t you just ask me?”
Peter let out a breath with a huff and said, “Well, I did in a roundabout way. I asked someone else who worked here how you got the scar. When they told me it happened to you during the war, I knew it had to be you.”
Chase fixated on every word, and then asked, “But that’s not the only reason you didn’t say anything, is it?”
Peter replied in a hushed tone, “No it’s not. I could see Raylan was a strong, proud man, and the last thing he’d want from me is pity.”
Peter looked at Raylan again more intensely and continued. “And at first, I did have pity for you, for the price you paid saving me. But then, after knowing you about a year, I didn’t feel that way anymore. You are not some broken thing, you’re a proud veteran with a thriving business and lots of friends.”
Raylan seemed touched by his words, as Peter continued. “But by the time I realized who you were, I couldn’t tell you who I was. You all knew me as Oscar, so I just left it alone.”
Something just occurred to Chase: “So yesterday, on Park Avenue, in that building’s lobby?”
Peter smiled again, “Yeah, that was me on the phone. Now you know why I couldn’t invite you up.”
Chase smiled back. “And why you told me to let it be. I’ve been singing that stupid song in my head ever since, ya know,” Chase added with a giggle.
Peter bent down to pet the shelter dog that was waiting by his feet, and then added, “Yeah, sorry about that.”
Raylan then asked, “Earlier, Chase did something in sign language—what was that?”
Peter’s face and features became soft as a pillow, answering, “She was asking about my little brother, Paul, who was born deaf. Everyone in my family learned sign language so we could communicate with him. That’s how I was able to teach Bella, the deaf dog that Charlie adopted. Hey, how are they doing by the way, Charlie and Bella?”
Chase smiled warmly, “Great. That puppy changed her life.”
Peter then extended his hand across the table to Raylan and said, “This is long overdue. I never got to thank you for saving my life. Thank you, Raylan.”
Raylan had lied to everyone when he told them what happened to him in battle was buried deep in the past. Every time he caught a gl
impse of his reflection in the mirror, that horrible day was looking back. He was proud and strong and was doing well, as Peter had observed, and now he had a wonderful woman in his life who cared for him. Still, it was a wound that had never quite closed, a scar that had never healed—until this moment, when he heard those two simple words from the man he saved: Thank you.
Raylan gripped his hand tight and shook it up and down twice, looked Peter in the eyes, and said, “You’re welcome, Peter, and it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Both men were hardened by life and not prone to emotion, yet both sets of eyes welled up with tears. The room spontaneously broke into applause in that instant. Suddenly, strangers who just happened to pick that afternoon to go out for a cappuccino found themselves clearing their throats and pretending not to feel something stirring deep inside.
Chase knew the two men had lots of catching up to do, so she said, “Listen, I have to get back to Briarcliff. It’s nice to finally meet you, Peter.”
He crossed the room and gave Chase a hug, whispering in her ear, “You have a good heart.”
Deb interrupted the moment with a question, “Excuse me but … what did the tattoo he has have to do with any of this?”
Peter pulled down the back of his shirt collar, revealing the screaming eagle that represented his army unit in the war, the same one Charlie spotted when Peter was playing. Raylan looked at it and smiled, adding, “That’s the one.”
Deb then asked, “If your real name is Peter, not Oscar, who is that guy you mentioned when you were fibbing. Mark something?”
Peter chuckled, “Oh, Mark Retzlaff. He was my college roommate. He sells real estate upstate. Doesn’t even look like me.”
Chase then, “And the Cambridge Eagles?”
Peter again, “Mark went to Cambridge High School, in Washington County, New York, but they were the Indians, not the eagles.”
The whole room was quietly looking on with wonder, as Peter added, “Hey, you have to give me an A for creativity. Now, before you go, Chase, I have a question for you: How did you know the signs for ‘brother’ and ‘deaf’? Chase smiled and answered, ‘I asked Charlie’s tutor, Mary, before I came down to meet you today.’”
As Chase turned toward the door to go, Matthew, her driver, opened it partially, then stopped himself and asked, “Wait. One more question. The tattoo you mentioned you have on your left arm that bears some significant date. Is that real?”
Peter looked around the room and realized every single person was watching and waiting for his answer. Finally, he said, “Yes, it is, Matthew. Very real. It’s the most important date of my life. Who can guess when that was?”
As everyone paused and pondered, Raylan said, “The day we met.”
Peter looked out the front window at the busy sidewalk, a fresh tear falling from his right eye. He couldn’t speak, but there was no need for words. Everyone knew Raylan was right.
CHAPTER 29
What Would JC Do?
For the first time in the four years she had known Gavin, Chase was sick to her stomach with worry. It was the morning after she had revealed Oscar’s true identity, and Chase and her pup, Scooter, sat on the chilly back patio staring at the stone wall. The yellow rose she placed on the rocks was gone, and she was left with an empty wall and an equally empty feeling in her heart.
She and Gavin spoke on the phone the entire ride home from Manhattan the night before, as she shared the amazing news about the man they called Oscar. Gavin was stunned, as anyone would be, then told her he loved her and said goodbye from his father’s farm in Vermont. Only, that’s not where he was.
After Chase woke, she called Gavin to wish him a good morning, but it went directly to voicemail. That meant either Gavin was on the phone or the phone was shut off. When Gavin didn’t call back, she tried him twice more with no luck. Now worried, she called Gavin’s father at the farm and felt ill when he told her Gavin wasn’t there and he hadn’t seen him in two weeks. It left her with only one possibility: Gavin had lied to her.
Chase paced for the next few hours, her half dozen more calls and text messages going painfully unanswered. Like a pot on the back burner of the stove, Chase was slowly reaching a boiling point, a mixture of worry and anger spilling over the sides.
Finally, at suppertime, her phone lit up with a loud “ding.” It was Gavin with a cryptic message: Matthew will pick you up at seven p.m. and bring you to meet me. Everything is fine, I’m sorry for the subterfuge. All will be explained soon. Love you so much, Gavin.
Chase’s first thought was, Thank God he’s alive. Now I’m going to kill him.
Her driver arrived and assured Chase that he had no idea what was going on. Matthew only knew he was to take her to a specific address which she would recognize when she got there. Forty-seven minutes later the black sedan pulled up in front of Grand Central Station in Manhattan.
“The train station? Am I going somewhere?” she asked Matthew.
He could only shrug his shoulders, not knowing either.
Chase walked into the busy station and dodged commuters who were darting in all directions. She ventured toward the center of the station, and that’s where she found Gavin waiting with a bouquet of flowers.
“Thank you for coming, and I’m sorry if any of this upset you,” he began, giving Chase a hug.
Normally, she’d hug him back as if she’d never let go, but Chase was too upset.
Rather than beat around the bush she cut right to it. “You lied to me. I want to know why?”
Gavin flashed that warm country boy smile that was always so disarming, and for the first time it had zero effect.
When he saw the hurt in Chase’s eyes, he said, “I did, but it’s nothing bad. I promise. Before we get to that, though …”
Gavin then looked to his left toward the wall of the train station and waved his hand back and forth to get someone’s attention.
“You see those two guys, the ones waving back at me?” he asked Chase.
She looked and saw two men, one of college age and the other in his sixties with gray hair and a pot belly that extended over his belt. “Yes, I see them. Who are they?” she replied.
Gavin said, “That’s Ronnie, and I think the older one called himself Jinx.”
Chase, then completely confused, replied, “Jinx?”
Gavin, “Yeah, must be a nickname. They work at the furniture emporium on West 58th, and if you look behind them, you’ll see two recliners. I paid them two hundred dollars each to do this.”
Gavin gave them a thumbs up, prompting the men to drag two recliners from the side of Grand Central over to the center where Chase and Gavin were standing.
When they got there, Jinx said to Gavin, “Remember, ten minutes, no more.”
Gavin nodded and said, “Absolutely. Deal’s a deal.”
Chase, still confused, looked at Gavin as he said, “Now, look over to that side of the station and you’ll see a man in a suit with a bald head and glasses. Do you see him?”
Chase craned her neck and, looking through the sea of people, replied, “I think so, wait, yes, I see him. Who is he?”
Gavin, looking proud of himself now, said, “That is Stu Winkle, the night manager of this train station, and for a hundred bucks he’s going to do something for me.”
Chase was starting to lose patience and said, “Gavin, why did you lie and say you were in Vermont when you weren’t? Where were you?”
Gavin turned to her and took up both of her soft hands in his. “I promise we’ll get to that, but first I have a speech I practiced on the plane.”
“Plane? You were on a plane? From where?” Chase inquired firmly.
Gavin cleared his throat dramatically, then began, “When I thought of how I wanted to do this, I asked myself what would JC do?”
Chase looked at him and said, “What would Jesus do?”
Gavin laughed nervously. “Oh, God no, I mean, yes, of course we should do what that JC would do, but in this case I
’m talking about the other JC. The one you love watching.”
Chase was completely lost now, asking, confused, “The one I, what?”
Gavin explained: “John Cusack. JC. Your favorite actor. You love all his schmaltzy romantic movies—Serendipity that we watched recently, and the one where he holds the boom box over his head, or the one where he runs a record store. Sorry, I don’t know all the names.”
Chase thought a moment, then said, “Say Anything and High Fidelity.”
Gavin again, “Right, right. So, I asked myself, what would JC do if he were me in this moment, and here we are.”
Chase looked at the recliners sitting empty next to them, then asked, “Okay, so explain where you’ve been and why we’re standing in the middle of a train station?”
There was a loud whistle just then, and Gavin looked over to see the bald man holding up his wrist and pointing to his watch, as if it was time for something to happen.
Gavin smiled and said to Chase, “Right. Quick, sit down in the recliner. Stu Winkle says it’s time.”
Chase sat in one of the cloth chairs and said, “That can’t possibly be his real name, Stu Winkle?”
Gavin ignored her comment, taking the chair next to her, then said, “Now, lean back.”
When Chase did, she found herself looking up at the ceiling of Grand Central station, which, she hadn’t noticed until now, was painted to look like the sky at night, with all the stars and constellations. Suddenly, they heard another whistle from Stu, and the lights in the train station went dim, causing the stars above to brighten.
Gavin began, “Do you remember our very first date back in Vermont? We had a picnic by a stream and then I did something special for you in a field.”
Chase’s heart warmed to the memory, responding, “You took me to a field at dusk and made all the lightning bugs put on a show just for me.”
Gavin took her hand. “That’s right. They don’t have lightning bugs in Manhattan in December, but they do have this.”
