I stood outside Peter's office for what seemed like hours, attempting to muster the strength to knock. Rationally, I knew it had only been a few minutes, but my anxiety stretched beyond time and reason in those moments. I clenched and relaxed my fist a few times before my mother's voice filled my head. 'Just take a heavy breath and holdit to the count of five. Then, like a balloonwith a pinhole, I slowly let the air out.' It was advice she had instilled in me for as long as I could remember.

"Five..." I sucked in a heavy breath. "Four..." I let the fears mount in my chest. "Three..." it beat on my lungs. "Two..." I ached to release the tension. "One..." I creaked before exhaling the breath and the knot within me.

I lifted my hand and quietly knocked.

"Come in, Antonia." Peter's voice was kind.

"How did you know it was me?" I asked as I entered.

"Most don't knock, and even after all these years, I recall the distinct strength behind your mother's knock. The process of elimination led me to you... and perhaps a bit of hope," he smiled. "Sit, join me. Would you like some coffee or tea?"

"Tea, please," I responded as I settled into one of his overstuffed leather chairs.

Peter was elegant in his movements; it felt almost as though he were of another time. His delicate grace would have fit better in the previous century. With measured precision, he lifted the silver teapot and poured water over the looseleaf tea. The aromatic scent of the tea filled the room, pulling a comforted smile to my face as he presented the delicate teacup and saucer to me.

"Thank you," I greeted as I grasped the saucer. My hand was far less steady and caused the cup to rattle on its perch of the saucer. I took a tentative sip as the cool sensation of mint burst through the warmth of the tea. "This is delicious."

"Mmhmm, Pennyroyal Tea, it is your mother's favorite." He nodded as he settled behind his desk again. "I've never had the heart to stop having it around, even though no one else around here enjoys it. Sometimes, I just let a cup steep for the aroma."

"I never realized this was her favorite. She typically has chamomile," I murmured, almost to myself.

"Pennyroyal is an interesting tea. The mint taste is what most enjoy, but it is actually highly toxic like most things in life; too much, and you risk severe consequences," Peter evenly explained.

"Interesting," I nodded as I let his words sink into me.

"Perhaps, as with many things, your mother avoided having Pennyroyal tea to protect you," he offered.

"Perhaps," I agreed. "You still love her," I noted. I hadn't intended to blurt it out, but when I did, my face flushed.

"Love is permanent. When you truly love someone, you always love them. Everything else is just a shade of that love; anger, fear, hatred are all forms of curdled love."

"Is that what you feel about my mother now? Anger? Fear? Hatred?" I posed.

"Sometimes, other times, it is the love we all want; comfort, understanding, warmth. We have a complicated connection. But," he adjusted in his seat as though physically moving on for the conversation, "I doubt you came here to discuss your mother."

"I don't know why I came here. I just..."

He smiled as though I had complimented him. "This is all very confusing. Perhaps I can help you sort through some of it," he offered.

"I'd like that, but I'm afraid I don't even know where to start," I sighed.

"A wise woman once told me that all stories begin at the beginning. What is the first thing you remember?"

"Nick asked me last night if I remember him or this place. I don't," I admitted as my face dropped in shame.

"You were very young," Peter offered. "What is your first memory?"

"Times Square. Mom and I had gone there, and it was so busy with the people and lights. It hypnotized me. I saw a store with a huge unicorn in the window, and I was just so taken with it. I just stared at it. I didn't even notice my mom slipping into the crowd."

"Oh dear," Peter sighed.

"It is interesting to be lost but not know it. I suppose I have always been lost but didn't know it," I mused to myself. "But my mom knew. I heard her calling for me. Her voice was filled with so much panic. I called back, but my voice was thin, so she didn't hear me at first, and her voice just got more and more stressed. I didn't want to scare her. She wouldn't be afraid anymore if I found her.

"You were always a thoughtful child," Peter nodded.

The sentiment warmed me and welled tears in my eyes. After a moment of recovery, I continued. "When she found me, she hugged me so tightly I thought I would be crushed. That is my first memory."

"When you were very young, really just a toddle of two or three, I brought you and Ephie home dolls one day. You were so careful with yours. You cradled it and whispered so sweetly to the toy. Ephie was a bit more daring with hers, taking it on adventures and such. Well, a few days after I brought them home, Ephie had dropped hers from the top of the stairs. The face was all dented and cracked. It was quite an ugly and unsettling sight," Peter chuckled. "Ephie was quite the resilient child, though. She just shrugged and told your mother to toss it, but you cried. You begged your mother not to throw out the toy and promised to love it just as much as your own doll. And you did. You cared for them both as though they were both pristine toys. At times, it seemed as though you even preferred the damaged toy, like you were destined to be the one to love her."

"Pricilla and Eloise," I murmured. I couldn't place how I knew their names, but they popped from my mouth with no notice.

A smile spread across Peter's face. "Yes, those were their names," he smiled and nodded to a bookshelf next to us. Two dolls, stained by years, sat on the shelf, one with a disfigured face.

"You kept them?" I stammered.

"We promised you that we would not throw them out; how could I break that promise?" He sat back. "I use them as a good reminder of what I had lost and what you had all along."

"I'm sorry that I don't remember you," I whispered as the words caught in my throat.

Peter stood and paced around his desk, extending a hand to me. I took it, and he lifted me from my seat. "I have no fear of you forgetting me again, Antonia." He then pulled me in for a tight hug. "Now go, I am sure Grandma is eager to feed you."