A Pirate's Life For Me

Chapter 12 - I Can't Tell You

OLIVIA

"Aunty Olive?" I let Peter's words hang in the darkness for a moment, hoping he will go back to sleep. "Aunty Olive?" He repeats.

"Yeah?"

"Am I going back home?" 

I think about his question for a minute before answering. Would he? What would happen when Brett went back to Maryland? Would he take Peter with him?

"Hm. I'm not sure." I reach over and turn on the lamp. If we're going to have this conversation, there's no reason to have it in the dark. Peter is lying on his stomach with a pillow under his stomach. He seems deep in thought, which is kinda cute. "Do you want to go back home?"

"No." He shrugs, rolling over so that he's right next to me. "I don't wanna."

Well, I suppose that's understandable. These past weeks, Bailey's been so consumed with her search for Cory that she's neglected her sons. It's been almost two and a half weeks since he should have come home. Bailey is a wreck. I don't doubt that she loves Peter and Aiden, but I also don't doubt that she snapped.

"Alright," I sigh. I just want to stop talking about this and go to sleep. 

"Aunty Olive?"

"What, Peter?"

"Where's Aiden?" 

I swallow, letting my hand rest on the lamp. Does Peter not know?And this raises another question in my mind: did Peter even see it happen? "Do you know what happened to your brother, sweetie?" 

Peter thinks for a moment and then shrugs. "Yeah. We was running around and he slipped and fell and there was a loud crack and then Mommy was crying and there was a big truck and--"

"What?" 

Peter blinks up at me innocently, seeming confused by my reaction.

Is he telling me that Aiden actually slipped and fell? Really? But of course, that story raises even more questions: Could slipping on the kitchen floor actually result in a broken hip? Is there a reason why the doctors didn't believe that story? And is Peter telling the truth? 

As much as I love my nephew, there's no denying that he's not a reliable source of information. If he's not sure about something, he's been known to make things up. 

"Peter," I say. "Did you see that happen?" 

"Yeah. He fell down and mommy came in and she was really mad," Peter tells me earnestly. "She yelled at me and then--" He clamps his mouth shut mid-sentence.

"What?" I ask in confusion. "And then what?" He doesn't speak, which is unusual for Peter. "Peter, you need to tell me. This could be important," I order. He seems near tears with the effort not to speak. I shift so that we're face to face, he on his stomach and I propped up on my elbow.

"I can't tell you," He whispers.

"Peter, honey, there's nothing you can't tell me. Are you scared? Is that it?" He nods again, confusing me even more. Why would he be afraid to -- 

Oh. Oh, oh no.

"She didn't," I whisper to myself. Turning back to Peter I look straight into his eyes, wishing I'd figured this out sooner. He looks so sad. "Peter, I need you to tell me this, okay? I need you to tell me the truth." 

Peter nods, frowning. I'm already half off the bed, ready to go. I'm not exactly sure what I'm planning to do as it's about three in the morning and I'm in Brett's hotel room without any means of transportation, but I'm ready all the same.

"Did she hit you?"

There's a silence that seems longer than life itself. I can see his indecision, his fear, and I feel terrible that he had to go through this alone. Because even though Peter never replied to me that night, I knew what the answer was.