The Fourth Life: Chapter 58

Todd made his way into the foyer of Unforgettable, and instead of calling to Blair, as usual, he walked quietly to the living room, and put a log on the fire immediately.  It was a chilly evening in early May, and in the mountains, the air was a bit clearer and cooler.  He poked at the log with the fireplace tools, and then turned when he heard her behind him.  "Hey," he said.


"Hey," she said, walking to him.  She pressed herself against him, and smiled with her eyes into his face.  She wrapped her arms around his neck, and kissed his lips, gently.


He said, "Watch out, woman, you never know where that might get you."


"Oh, I know where it will get me."  She smiled, putting her fingers in his hair.  He had just gotten it trimmed, but it was still long and lustrous, and tied back in a ponytail.  She also noticed his goatee was neatly sheared.  She said, "You're still so beautiful to me, Mr. Manning.  Are you out there getting yourself all dolled-up for a reason?"


"Just you," he said.  "How are you today?"


"I feel pretty good today, actually."  She said, touching his mouth with her hand.


He cocked his head slightly to the side, "Really?  What's going on, Blair?"


She moved away from him a bit, "Maybe I didn't do it."


He frowned a little, hoping she did not notice.  "You didn't?"


"What if I was just been dreaming?  Think about it.  I thought all kinds of weird things.  I dreamed things so real, I even thought you were trying to hurt me, and I thought Leona was alive.  No, I don't think I killed Carlo, at all," she sounded if she were convincing herself.


Realizing she was more fragile than he thought, he said, "All right."


She noticed his restraint.  "You don't believe me?"


He sat on the couch, "I believe you, Blair, if that's what you think.  I can't be in your head.  If that's what you remember, then, I believe you.  Either way, I don't feel any differently.   I don't blame you if you did, or if someone else did.  He deserved whatever he got, and whoever did it is a freaking hero."


"Or heroine," she said, sitting beside him, and taking his arm, putting her head on his shoulder.  "I just don't think it was me anymore.  I'm not a killer, I don't think.  It's just all so...foggy, to me.  I can see some of it, and other things, I just can't."


He doubted, for a fleeting moment, that he was doing the right thing keeping what he knew from her, but for the time being, it was going to stay his secret.  She was lighter, somehow, and looked better than she had in days.  He was not going to ruin that by telling her that Timothy had seen her by Carlo's bedside at the hospital.  He didn't even care what the truth was anymore, he just wanted her back, and okay, and with him.  "The truth is overrated," he thought.


***


Zeus, having researched the location of the ex-Mayor's home, was on the road, in his SUV, and headed over.  He didn't bother to call or announce himself; she may not know him by name anyway.  He wondered what it would be like when he made contact with her, the first time with them both knowing the truth.  How was he conceived?  What was it like when she thought she lost him?   He had many questions for her.  


The drive was pleasant, she lived on the outskirts of town, in an elegant, English Tudor mansion that was too big for just her.  He had set his GPS for the address that he found in public record, and was rounding the corner when he remembered something.  The shooting.  He deeply wanted to know if she knew something about it.  First, he wanted to quell his own wonderings, and second, he wanted to help Blair, and also Todd.  He'd never felt that he had even come close to making up for taking Todd's life from him, or for the things he did to Blair that were unpleasant.  She had gone through so much, while she was with him, over those eight years.  The poor thing had somehow believed he was Todd, even though it should have been clear to everyone that he wasn't.  She just wanted Todd so badly, she made it true.  She had fooled herself.  And it was a mess, between them, from the start.  He finally let her go, knowing he should, and having fallen in love with Tea, it made perfect sense to him.  From the first moment he saw Tea Delgado again, such a few years ago now, he knew he loved her, and would for the rest of his life.  Letting Blair go was difficult; she still thought she was with Todd, he still thought he was Todd, at least most of the time, and she would have to move on.  But, somehow, she did.  Now, he had the opportunity to help Todd and Blair move forward again, and possibly lessen any resentment toward him, if that were possible.


And, he thought, parking the car in front of the home, he would ask about the death of his father.  Why not?  Since he and Tea were both considered suspects, as well as Blair, he hoped he would find out something that could help take suspicion off them all.  Then, he could emerge as more acceptable in Llanview society, if he brought the killer of Carlo Hesser to justice.  He hoped that his mother knew something and could shed some light on it.


Exiting the car, he walked up the driveway, apprehensive at first.  How would he approach her, and what would he say.  "Hi, Mom.  I'm your son?"  He wasn't sure, but hoped the right words would come.  He rang the bell.  Within a few minutes, she was there.  He'd never forget how she looked when he first saw her: her dark hair a bit windblown; an oversized sweater wrapped around her shoulders; her thin frame covered in a pale yellow and blue light dress.  She looked at him, and her face was a combination of sadness and relief.  


He said, "Hello, Ms. Finn?  I'm..."


"I know who you are."  She stepped back, "Please come in."


He did, and she lead him, without words, to the balcony.  She had already set the table with two places, and the sky was turning the colors of dusk.  She had the firepit going, to keep it warm enough, and offered him a seat.  He took it, and watched her, carrying a tray with crudite over to the table.  He said, "Were you expecting someone?"


She said, "Yes.  You.  I just had a feeling you'd be here."


"Well, I am.  You're my mother."


"I realize that.  And you're my son," her voice broke.  She said, "Help yourself.  I've not had many chances to feed you since you were born."


He did, even though he was not hungry.  Then he said, "How was I made?"  He feared she was forced into the act that created him, and wanted to hear the truth from her.


She said, "I was in love with your father.  In some sick way, I was in love with him until the day he died."


Surprised at her words, he said, "Carlo."


"Yes.  I know what it makes me," she looked off into the sky, "but it's true.  As much as I have refused to face it, I suppose this day, today, that I find my son was never dead, is the day that I admit that, and a lot of other things."


He drank some wine, that she had poured.  It was sweet and fizzed a bit on his tongue.  He said, "What was it like?  Loving him?"


"Never easy," she said, amazed that the younger man before her was not passing judgement on her.  "Never.  He lied to me, at first, I never knew he was a gangster.  We broke up.  Then I found out I was pregnant with you, and we sort of moved toward each other again.  If you were coming here thinking I was raped by him, you're wrong.  He was never like that with me.  He was...he was probably the love of my life.  As much as I hated him, in the end, he was my world at one point."


"And then?"


"Then," she fought back tears, and won, "You died.  Or the baby did.  He pulled away from me, and I from him.  I never got over it."  He reached out and touched her arm.  She said, "Please, don't, I don't deserve that kind of compassion."  He knew there was more, and fearful of what it might lead to, he pushed on anyway, decidedly ready to hear whatever it was she had to say.

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