Chapter 4

"Shhh," Peter cautioned a giggling Etta, "This is a surprise for Mama, remember?"

Etta bounced up and down in the kitchen while Peter flipped pancakes on the stove. "Are you making whales for Mama? Grandpa always makes me whale pancakes."

Peter froze.

"Daddy! You gotta flip the pancakes else they burn, Grandpa said." She pointed at the stove where the edges of heart-shaped pancakes were beginning to crisp.

He swallowed hard and took a deep breath. Be in the moment, he scolded himself. "You are so right, Princess. What would I do without you?" He deftly flipped the pancakes, then crouched down to lift Etta so she could check their progress.

She wrapped her arms around his neck. This was her favorite vantage point, and Peter was her preferred mode of transportation.

Peter cleared his throat and tried to sound cheerful. "So what do you think, Princess? Do you think Mama will like these?"

"Uh-huh." She patted his cheeks. "What's the matter, Daddy? Why are you sad? They aren't burnt."

He transferred the pancakes to a waiting plate and turned off the stove, then swiped his free hand across his face. "I'm ok, kiddo."

She hugged him and he buried his face in her blond curls that smelled of baby shampoo and fresh cotton. If he hugged her tighter these days, she didn't seem to mind.

"Don't be sad, Daddy. We can ask Grandpa to make you whale pancakes next time."

He felt Olivia's arms around them both, and her lips grazed his cheek.

"Maybe you and I can make whale pancakes for Daddy next time, baby girl? Would you like to do that?" Olivia eased Etta into her arms and shot a concerned look at Peter over her head.

He rubbed his hand over his eyes and whispered, "I'm ok, hon." He busied himself with getting the pancakes and bacon to the kitchen table while Olivia helped Etta pour milk and juice. He filled a couple of mugs with coffee and joined them at the table.

Her somber mood forgotten, Etta bubbled with excitement that only Saturdays with both her parents could bring. Watching her, Peter smiled and let his mind drift.

I want you to give Olivia your daughter back. I want to give you your life back. As a father, how could I not do that for you?

He heard Walter's voice every time he looked at Etta, every time Olivia kissed her cheek, every time her laughter echoed through the halls of their Brookline home.

ooo

After breakfast, Olivia and Etta cleared the table and Peter brought one of the kitchen chairs over to the sink. Even though they used the dishwasher for other meals, washing dishes after Saturday morning breakfasts had become a tradition; having the time to do the dishes meant no early morning calls from Broyles about a case, time to leisurely catch up or plan their day. Once Etta thought she was big enough to help, she took her place at the sink, too – sometimes, they all ended up soaked or sudsy, but it was a little piece of normalcy that they treasured when the rest of their world seemed to spiral out of control.

Today, Olivia washed, Peter rinsed, and Etta dried.

Olivia held up a handful of suds, and with a puff, sent bubbles wafting across the sink. Etta laughed as they drifted in front of her. "Look, it's double bubble jection!"

Both Peter and Olivia turned to look at their daughter. "It's what?" Peter said with a grin.

Etta looked up at him with all the seriousness she could muster. "It's Playdoh's law ," she explained. "Grandpa told me about it when we were blowing bubbles at the lab… he drew pictures on his board and everything!"

Olivia nudged Peter with her elbow, "Translation, please."

"My daughter," he said, with more than a touch of pride in his voice, "is explaining Plateau's Laws." At Olivia's obvious confusion, he added "It's the physics of soap bubbles…. Double bubble conjecture is one of the theorems."

"Grandpa said he would make giant soap bubbles for me the next time we go to the park. Can we go today?" Etta looked up at her parents with pleading eyes. "I bet Grandpa would REALLY like to go to the park and teach me more fizz… fizz…. Fizz-ick," she finished triumphantly.

Peter and Olivia exchanged glances; they hadn't come to terms with Walter's absence themselves, yet they knew they had to tell Etta something about her grandfather, who was a constant presence in her life. Peter nodded and leaned into Olivia. "I've got it," he murmured, and brushed his lips against her cheek.

"Hey, kiddo…" he said, swinging Etta from the chair, "Mama's got a little work to do, whaddaya say we draw some pictures of bubbles for Grandpa, and then we'll talk about going to the park."

Etta ran off to find her sketchbook and crayons while Peter refilled his coffee mug and sat at the kitchen table. Olivia turned to face him, leaning against the sink.

"Are you ok with this?"

He studied his coffee mug and shook his head. "No, I don't know if I'll ever be ok with it… but she needs to know what Walter did for her."

Etta burst back into the kitchen with a large sketchbook and a cigar box full of crayons. She waited impatiently while Peter moved his mug out of the way, then climbed into his lap and opened the sketchbook in front of them.

She rummaged in the cigar box until she found just the right crayons… a light blue one for her, and a bright purple one for Peter. "I'll draw the circles," she instructed Peter, "and you draw the curves, okay, Daddy?"

He wrapped his right arm around her and leaned over her shoulder to watch as she scattered circles of various sizes across the blank expanse of her sketchbook. As she concentrated, she wrinkled her brow in the characteristic Bishop crease.

Olivia finished the dishes and brought her laptop and a couple of files to the table, sitting across from Peter and Etta so she could watch them surreptitiously. Peter glanced up and she gave him an encouraging smile.

"Daddy, can we take these to Grandpa when we go to the park today?" Etta continued her work, moving Peter's arm when it got in her way.

"Well, Etta, we need to talk about Grandpa… You know how he's the smartest scientist in the whole world?"

"I thought that was you, Daddy."

Olivia ducked her head and pretended to study her notes.

"Well, your grandpa and I take turns sometimes, kiddo." Peter kissed the top of her head. "And you know how we all try to help people when we can, when we can do things that nobody else can do? Like your mom helps people in trouble even when she'd rather be home coloring with you."

"Uh-huh. And you help Mama even when you'd rather be home, too."

"Ahhh…" Peter looked at Olivia sheepishly.

"That's right, baby girl, but Daddy also helps me because he wants to."

"But what does that have to do with going to the park with Grandpa?"

Peter closed his eyes for a moment. He thought he was ready for this… but he realized he would never be ready.

"Kiddo, a friend of Grandpa's told him about a whole lot of people who needed his help. He needed Grandpa to fix a problem that only the smartest man in the world could solve."

He blinked a few times, and Olivia looked up at the silence. He shook his head, and nuzzled the top of Etta's head, breathing in that little girl smell.

"But to fix this problem, Grandpa had to go far away, to a place he's never been before."

"Why didn't you go with him, Daddy? You could take turns being the smartest guy in the world."

"Well…" his voice broke. "Well, because Grandpa knew that he probably wouldn't come back. And…" he took another deep breath, "more than anything in the world, Grandpa wanted me to stay here with you and Mama, and take care of you."

Etta put down her crayon and wriggled in Peter's lap. When she looked up at him, Peter swore he could see his 24 year old daughter looking back at him.

"Can we go visit Grandpa?

"Kiddo, where Grandpa is might as well be a million years away."

The crease deepened in Etta's forehead, and Olivia thought she'd never looked more like Peter than at that moment. Two pairs of blue eyes glistened.

"But I can still draw pictures for him, right, Daddy? So he knows I'm not gonna forget about him?"

Peter wrapped his arms around Etta. "I think he would like that very much, kiddo. And we'll find a special place to keep them safe until he comes back to find them, okay?"

Etta hugged Peter's neck, then turned back to her drawing. Peter looked over at Olivia with a stricken look on his face. She smiled back reassuringly and nodded.

Etta sorted through the crayons scattered across the table, until she found the one she'd picked out originally for Peter. "Here," she pushed the violet crayon into Peter's left hand. "Do the curves."