Bringing Big Pete Home

“What do you mean ‘How’s Mom?’ She’s still dying Peter, that’s how she is.”

Peter winced at his sister’s barking tone. He should have known better than to call Jessica. He never knew what to say to her, but he always knew it would be exactly wrong. Still, he had to try to make a connection with her; he needed to get someone from the family on his side.

“I’m sorry Jessica”, he said softly, “that was stupid. I guess I was hoping for good news.” A whoosh of air was the only reply and Peter knew that, too, was the wrong thing to say. He pushed on. “I’m on my way home, Sis. I’ll be there Saturday. Do you think she will hold on?”

Jessica concentrated on keeping her tone steady as she answered her brother. “We don’t really know how she has help on this long. She says that she’s waiting”, and her voice faltered a bit then steadied, “she’s waiting for Dad to come and get her.”

Peter closed his eyes and winced. This again. This was bad. “Tell her I’m coming home, OK?”

Jessica laughed a bitter laugh as she answered “Don’t you think she’s been hurt enough by the men in the family? You can tell her yourself… IF you ever get here. The Mulligan men are always getting lost on their way home, aren’t they?” And then she was gone, the call over.

As he closed his eyes and slowly drew in a deep breath Peter tried to let go of the tension that calls with his sister always brought. There was no room for that- not anymore. For too long he had allowed the misunderstandings between he and his sisters keep him away and on his own.

It wasn’t that he regretted his decision to leave the family business for art school. That was the right path for him to follow. So was the decision to spend the past four years chasing the light through the hills and valleys of Italy, France, and Spain. He had found himself in that light and it was time for him to take himself home… if there really was enough time and if he was welcome where he once called home. He heard the call for his plane and quickly walked toward the Air Alaska desk to show his ticket and board the flight for Cold Bay.

Settled in for the first leg of his five-hour journey from Seattle he looked up from his book and thought how different his life would be if he’d stayed in Cold Bay and taken over the Weathered Bear Inn. All the sights and experiences he would have missed and the people- Oh God!- the people he never would have met had he remained in the small community of 125 people. Well, when he left it was really 124 people but you'd never know it by the small sign at the outskirts of town, because his mother never really believed his father was truly gone forever and she wouldn't let them change the number.

The place at the table, set ‘just-in-case’ for every meal and then washed and returned to the cupboard unused. The warm coat that was carefully cleaned and pressed each season since ‘Big Pete’ was sure to need it when it got really cold. A shiver ran up his neck as he remembered six years ago when the record low was -25 that first January after his dad had…. disappeared during the Fall Silver Salmon Derby. His mother kept the porch light on through the snow and bluster to help Big Pete find his way; he never appeared through the storms in the place recognized as the ‘most overcast community in America’, but his mom kept the light burning.

After the flight change Peter settled in for leg that would bring him back to his family home and the Cold Bay Airport. He was glad that he hadn’t needed to ride in on a seaplane and make a bigger entrance than he intended, although it was always hard to go unnoticed in such a small city. With two senior students out of a total of nine students enrolled when he graduated in 2015, he was used to everyone looking out for the ‘youngsters’. He knew being one of the Mulligans coming into town would attract even more attention. Already missing the anonymity of the past few years, he tightened his grip on his carryon and fell asleep, reassured by the feel of his brushes through the sides of the bag.

Slinging his bag over his shoulder two hours later, he took the mile walk to the Cold Bay Lodge and hoped Faith and Lindsay didn’t gang up on him about not staying at the house. He knew that Jess didn’t want him there and he wasn’t in the mood for an argument. Besides, he knew he could get a drink at the Weathered Bear Bar and it wasn’t like they couldn’t find him when they needed him. But even though he meant to drop off his bag at the Lodge his feet didn’t get the message and he walked as if in a trance to the sole dock in what the council optimistically called the boat harbor.

He stopped in the same spot all of the Mulligans in Cold Harbor found themselves when they came to the water. Just off to the left, at the end of the dock, where the rail stood ready to rope a boat or help steady a seaplane. Peter placed his hand on the top of the post and wondered to himself if his mother’s touch had worn it so smooth in just six years or if it had always been that way. He couldn’t help but look closely at the horizon and see… and see… and see nothing. Again. Like always. He wasn’t coming home. He was never coming home.

Big Pete shouldn’t have even been at the Derby that year, let alone be part of the Polar Bear Jump, and he certainly had no place on the raft races. Recovering from a heart attack over the Summer, though, he brushed off his daughters' protests, kissed his wife and told her ‘I’ll be right back- see you on the dock’ before he lowered himself into the raft and disappeared around the bend.

Long after the others had returned, after the rescue boats came back and their crews had avoided her eyes as they mumbled their apologies, Brenda Mulligan stayed on the dock waiting for Big Pete to come home. And when she gave in to her daughters' pleas and went home to sleep, she slipped out again in the morning to station herself and wait for her husband, her hand holding on to the post for support. In every weather Brenda took her place, only going home when it grew dark, then lighting the porch light to bring Pete home. She would be here now, Peter knew, but the pain in her bones wouldn’t let her stand anymore, so she sat in her bed looking through her window all day and kept her eyes turned to the water and watched for a ship flying a rescue flag on the horizon. Watched for someone helping Big Pete come home.

Letting out an absent-minded two-tone whistle Peter roused himself, and turning, he headed back to the Lodge, glancing up at his mother’s window as he went. The light reflected off it, but Peter knew she was just out of sight; he wondered if she ever looked at the people walking by or only had eyes for the water. At that moment he caught saw the light in the window change and he knew Jess had drawn the drapes and would help his mother with her evening routine. If he interrupted them, she would be furious with him and an angry Jessica Mulligan is never a way to end an evening. Disrupting their mother’s routine caused too much confusion and he knew Jess tried to comfort their mother as much as possible by keeping things predictable.

Fifteen minutes later Peter lifted a pint of local beer and froze as an idea hit him. The window. It might be crazy, but that window was the entirety of his mother’s understanding of life. Her one goal is to see a ship bringing Big Pete back home, and Peter knew that he could make that happen.

Jessica Mulligan scowled at her brother as he came in through the kitchen door. “You missed breakfast. I thought your plane arrived yesterday, anyway. Where have you been? And what in the world have you been doing? Were you in a fight already? Was it that Mark Christopher again? Haven’t you two outgrown that?”

Peter groaned but smiled on the inside; a running list of questions with no opportunity to answer them is classic Jess. “I’ve already had breakfast and I’ve been busy this morning. Is Mom awake?” “Yes”, she replied, “she’s dressed, and I was going to prop her up so she can look out of the window. You can help if you want. Just don’t ask her too many questions and please just go along with whatever she says to you, OK?”

It was exactly what he hoped, and Peter eagerly followed her upstairs and into their mother’s room. Brenda looked over as they walked into the room and her face lit up with joy. “Pete! I knew you would come!”, she said softly as she held out her hands. “How did you get here?”

Peter glanced at his sister. He wasn’t expecting this. She gestured to go along with it. “Nothing could keep me away from you.” Peter bent to kiss her, and she held him with surprising strength, nestling into him, her eyes peeking over his shoulder. He heard her gasp.

“What’s wrong, Mom?” asked Jessica. “Are you alright?” She followed her mother’s gaze to the window facing the bay, and then she gasped, too. Perfectly framed by the wide panes of glass was a ship flying a rescue flag. “What in the world?” she murmured as she walked towards the window to get a closer look. Cold Bay hasn’t used the rescue ships for months, maybe years. How had one set out without it making the news? She noticed something odd- she was getting closer to the window, but the ship remained the same size. How was that possible?

Glancing over her shoulder she saw her brother cradling their mother and telling her that everything was going to be alright now. He wasn't going anywhere. He would stay home now. She looked from him to the ship, glistening in the sunlight. Freshly painted on the outside of the window and perfectly placed for Brenda to see. It would always stay just so, a ship on the horizon for her to see every morning.

Peter Mulligan had come home at last.

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