I sat for a long quiet moment, wondering what to do, and what I was going to tell Sam. I was already signed up at Charlotte's school, and she was in her room, dressing for the dance. Backing out on her at the last minute would be a sin she would never forgive me for, but making Sam stay home with a sitter on Halloween would break his heart.
I glanced across the room at Peter, with despair in my eyes.
“I take it Roger can't make it?” He looked at me sympathetically as I nodded, silently running through the options in my mind. I was wondering if a sitter could take Sam to his party, but it was too late to find one, and I knew Sam better than that. He would opt not to go, and I knew how important Halloween was to him. I needed to be two people, and unlike Peter, there was no way out for me. I didn't have a Klone.
“They think Helena has appendicitis,” I explained with a morbid look. “Christ, couldn't she have done that some other time?”
Peter walked across the room to me with a gentle smile and a warm look in his eyes. “I'll take him, if he'll have me. I don't have anything else to do tonight.” He had been planning to have dinner with friends, while I went to Charlotte's dance. And the truth was, I didn't know if Sam would have him. He had expected to go with his father, and although he liked Peter, going out with the man in my life on Halloween wasn't quite the same. “Why don't I ask him?” Peter said matter-of-factly. “If it's okay with him, I'll cancel my other plans.” I knew he was fond of the people he was meeting and they were only in town from London for a couple of days, and this was the only free night they'd had. But there was no question in my mind, I needed his help.
“Let me ask him first,” I said gratefully, and stopped to kiss him. “Thank you for doing it … I know it'll mean the world to Sam.”
But when Sam heard what had happened, he was too disappointed to be reasonable. He didn't care what Peter had offered, he was furious with Roger, and so disappointed he wadded his Batman costume up in a ball, and threw it on the floor.
“I'm not going,” he said, throwing himself on his bed, with tears of defeat and sorrow running down his face. “Dad always goes out with me on Halloween … it won't be the same.”
I know, sweetheart … but it's not his fault if Helena is sick. And he can't just go out and leave her. What if she has to go to the hospital and he's not there?”
The voice from the depths of his pillow was muffled, but audible nonetheless. “Tell her to call 911.”
“Why can't Peter take you?”
“He's not my father. Why can't you?” Sam said, rolling on his back to look at me mournfully, the tears still fresh on his face.
“I have to go to Charlotte's dance.” And as I said the words, I saw the door open, and Peter take a single cautious step into Sam's room. He stood there hesitantly for a moment and looked straight at Sam, man to man, and asked a respectful question.
“May I come in?” Sam nodded, but didn't answer as Peter made his way slowly to Sam's bed, and sat down on the end of it, as I quietly left the room, praying that Peter would know the right things to say.
I'm not entirely sure what happened after that, except that Sam told me many days later that Peter's father had died when he was ten, and his mother had had to work very hard to support him and his younger brother. There had never been anyone to go places with him. But he had been very close to the father of his best friend. He had gone fishing with them, and camping, and skiing once. And for the father-son camping trip, his best friend's father had taken both of them. It hadn't been the same for Peter either, but to this day, he had told Sam, as my son relayed to me later on, he and his best friend's father were still friends. He went to Vermont, where he lived now, every year to see him, and it means more to him than ever, because the man's son, Peter's friend, had been killed in Vietnam.
Sam had obviously been impressed by the story, because half an hour later, he appeared in my room with Peter standing beside him, his Batman costume on, and a look of resignation on his face.
“Peter said he'd go as Robin,” Sam announced, “if you've got anything for him to wear.” No problem, one Robin costume coming right up, twenty minutes before I had to leave for the dance. Of such minor challenges motherhood is made. We made holes for him to see through in an old sleepmask I'd taken from an airplane. I found an old gray sweatshirt, and a black wool cape, and he actually looked pretty credible, even in his gray flannels. I somehow couldn't see him leaving the building in gray tights, even if I had had some, which thank God, I did not. And for a moment, as I looked at him before they left arm in arm, Peter reminded me more of the Klone than of himself. Paul would have had the tights, of course, and a pair of Versace boots to match, but Peter's gray slacks and loafers looked just fine. I kissed them both before they left, thanked Peter, and rushed back to my room, to comb my hair and change my dress for Charlotte's dance.
“You're late, Mom!” She glowered at me from the doorway five minutes later, as I simultaneously slipped on my shoes and zipped up my dress.
“No, I'm not,” I said breathlessly, grabbing my handbag, and smiling at her. There was no doubt whatsoever in my mind, Peter had saved the day.
“What have you been doing?” It would have taken too long to explain. She seemed to assume I'd been eating bonbons and watching my favorite show on TV.
“Nothing,” I said modestly, just salvaging Sam's Halloween for him and dressing Peter as Robin. No big deal. I did things like that every day.
“Come on, we can't be late,” she said, handing me my coat and bag as we rushed out the door.
As it turned out, we weren't. We caught a cab immediately, and I reported for duty as a chaperone at the scheduled time. Charlotte had a great time at the dance, and when we got home, Peter and Sam were sitting on the couch, chatting like old friends. They had already made their way through several Hershey bars, four packs of Rolos, and there were silver papers from Hershey's Kisses and orange KitKat wrappers spread all over the couch. But in addition to the stomachache they were soon to share, it was obvious that a new bond had formed, and once again, Peter had won my heart.
“How was it?” I asked as Charlotte disappeared down the hall, having thanked me adequately for taking her to the dance.
“It was great! Peter and I are going to the Princeton-Harvard game,” Sam announced proudly. “And he said he'd take me on the school ski trip, if Dad can't go.” Peter looked over his head into my eyes, and I saw something there I had never seen before, something tender and open and very warm. Whatever reservations Peter may have had about making a commitment to me, Sam had made serious inroads into his heart that night. It was a look that, however developed the technology, could never have been cloned.
And when I went to kiss Sam in bed that night, he lay smiling up at me from his pillow. “He's a great guy,” he said about Peter, and all I could do was nod, and fight back the lump in my throat.
“I love you, Sam,” I whispered softly.
“I love you, too, Mom,” he said with a sleepy yawn. “Thanks for a terrific Halloween.”
Peter and I talked for a long time that night, about his childhood, and the death of his father, and then his mother when he was fourteen. In a way, he was an odd and lonely man, more so than I had ever realized, and it explained why he was so cautious about getting too attached to anyone. I think he was afraid that if he came to love us too much, something terrible might happen and he might lose us. But whatever fences he had built around himself over the years, it was obvious that Sam had broken right through them that night, dressed as Batman on Halloween.