Diamond in the Rough: Chapter 71

As The Mannings left the Trump Towers International, Todd threw the bags into the rental car and got in beside Blair.  He said, "We're off.  That was . . . hard, but we got pay dirt."

"Can't believe Peter had all that information about Mitch's church patrons."

"Makes you wonder how much time Peter spent with him.  No wonder Momma . . ." he trailed off.

She put her hand on his arm.  "It's almost over.  We go and we interview this 'Stick,' and get the information we need to have to convict Mitch, and then put it behind us.  Or at least, start."

"It's a lot, isn't it?"  he said, and he sounded far away.

"Yes, it is.  A lot for you, especially."

"No need letting it get to me, not anymore.  I have you, our kids.  Everything positive I've ever wanted is connected to that.  I'm not about to lose it by disappearing from reality.  I'm here to stay."

She believed him, and somehow, a sense of freedom and peace washed over her.  

***

"Kids, y'ar aunt and grandmother asked me to come by to talk to ya.  Starr, I am glad you're here."  Addie, Dorian, Starr, Jack and Sam sat in the living room at La Boulaie, and Timothy, attempting to keep the peace, continued.  "This is a family meeting.  Now, let's start with you, Addie.  Tell me what you told me earlier."

"Well," Addie began, "It seems Sam and Jack have been a little, mischievous."

"Meaning?"  Timothy asked.

Dorian spoke up.  "Both of them do the opposite of everything I ask or just ignore me.  Sam copies everything I say."

Sam said, "Not everything."

"Mostly everything."  Dorian said, "I've lived with these boys for years, I was a second mother to them.  This is a direct reflection on their father's return."

Addie said, "Dorie . . ."

Timothy interjected.  "Sam, is that true?  Is this about y'ar father?"

"No, not really.  It's not about anyone but me and Jack."

Timothy realized what was going on.  He turned his attention to the older boy.  "Jack.  Is this about y'ar father?"

"Maybe," he said, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Jack, what would he say if he were here right now?  Do ya think he needs more to deal with?"

The boy was thinking, his face was thoughtful and a bit red from embarrassment.  "If it is about him, it's not about him making us disrespect Aunt Dorian.  He wouldn't like us to, and even if it was about him, it wouldn't be about that."

Timothy said, "What would it be about, Jack?  Tell us."

"I don't want to talk about this."

"Well, ya will."

"I don't want to, Grandpa.  I don't."

"Let's say this is about your father.  What would it be about then?"

"It's not.  It's about Aunt Dorian.  It's about her.  I just don't feel like listening to her anymore."

Timothy said, "Jack, that's rude.  Ya don't talk that way."

"I do now."

Starr said, "Jack, what is this about?"

"She was at it again," he said, his voice elevating.  "Back at it, about the same stuff.  When you came in all upset.  Remember?"

Timothy said, "Sam.  Please go and do y'ar homework, Lad."

Never liking conflict, Sam said, "Okay, Grandpa!" and ran off, happily.

Jack said, "I can't listen to her anymore...she doesn't get Dad.  She doesn't even care what he's been through.  Why should I listen to her?"

"Jack, that's not true," Dorian said, "I care about what happened to your father."

"Not enough.  He stood up for us, he saved my mother.  More than once.  He saved Baby Ray.  There's nothing you can say to make him bad in my eyes, so you can just stop trying."

Timothy looked at Dorian, to read her response to what was being said.  She was beside herself, flustered and red-faced.  She said, "I did nothing of the kind."

"Yeah, sure," Jack said, standing.  "Grandpa, can I go, please?"

"Yes, Jack, ya may, Lad.  But I want ya to stop giving y'ar aunt a hard time."

Jack did not respond and went upstairs.  When he rounded the corner to his room, Sam was standing at his door, waiting.  "You said don't go in without permission.  So, I waited."  Sam said.

"What, Squirt?"

"Jack, are we in trouble?"

"No, you runt,  we're not in trouble."

"Do we stop now?  The games?"

He went into his room, leaving the door ajar.  Sam followed him as he jumped onto his bed.  "Nope.  The games are on until Mom and Dad get back."

"Cool.  I like the copying one the best.  Can I, Jack?"

"Huh?"  his attention was on the ceiling. 

"Can I do the copying?"

"Yeah, I said you could."

"Jack, what's wrong?  You're acting weird."

"Nothing, I'm fine.  Don't worry.  And stop pestering me, you little twerp."

"When will they be home?  I miss Mom so much, and Dad."

"Soon, I guess.  They just have some stuff to do."  He didn't mention that he hadn't slept well since they departed and was counting the minutes until their return.  He felt uneasy, scared, but he didn't let on.  Aunt Dorian, she was so wrong.  So wrong.  I just want them home, so they're not off again, somewhere.  Last time . . . the last time they were gone . . . Dad nearly died. . .

Sam jumped on the bed next to Jack, and sat on his knees.  "Can you throw me?  Like Dad does?"

He looked at his brother.  "No, not now, Sam."

"Please?  I'll be quiet after that.  Promise."

He didn't answer.  Sam said, "Jack, are you sad because something happened to Mom again?"

"No, nothing happened to Mom.  Or Dad, now stop."

"Okay, I guess."  The little boy lay down next to his brother, also on his back and looked to the ceiling.

Jack looked at him.  "What are you doing?"

"Lying here."

"Why?"

"I want to."

Sam leaned over and put his head on Jack's shoulder.
  
Jack said, "Just for a little while, Squirt."

***

As they got off the plane in Llanview, Todd received a text message.  His research assistant located "Stick" and provided a location.  Todd said, "He's at Pleasant Fields.  The assisted living community.  Guess he's a bit of an older fellow who can't get around much on his own.  Confined to a wheel chair."

"Should we just head there?  The boys are fine, maybe we should get this done and over with?"  Blair said.

"Maybe we should," he agreed.  Williams was waiting for them at the curb outside the airport.  They hopped in.  Todd said, "If we go there now, we might be able to get back home by nightfall and get the boys."

"Or," she said, snuggling near him, "we could just spend the night alone at home.  The fire.  The tub."  She took his earlobe in her lips.

He quivered, visibly, and said, "Sure.  Why not?  There's always tomorrow.  Sure you don't miss the boys too much?"

"I miss them, but...I don't know, something about being at Unforgettable alone, it gives us time to process things."  She rested her head on his strong shoulder.

He said, "All right, we'll decide after we go out to Pleasant Fields.  Okay?"

"Sure." 

The rest of the ride was quiet, Todd on his tablet updating some work, and Blair, dozing on and off, her head lolling on his shoulder, her hand just above his knee.  She made little circles with her fingers.

Pleasant Fields was as far as Mountainview was from Llanview, just in the other direction, almost touching Pine Valley.  After a while, Todd put the tablet away, and put his arm around his sleeping wife, and pulled her close.  He had almost lost her.  Not once, but a few times since he had been back.  He thought of her facing Leona in the cell he had been held captive in as he snipped her bra strap before Todd tackled him.  He pushed that thought away, and flashed, as if unable to stop it, on her and the baby, in the nursery, when he walked in the door and then traded himself for Little Ray.  

He swallowed, and kissed the top of her head and she woke.  When she did that, she let out a little sigh, and he remembered her lying on the floor in the courthouse, blood everywhere.  She had said, "There's God coming down," and it had scared him more than he could ever imagine being scared.  He was always terrified that she might leave him.  Terrified to lose her.  But the time in the courthouse was the worst.  If she ever leaves this earth before me . . .

His face must have shown his fear, because she said, "God, Todd, what in the world is wrong?"

"Thinking."  He said.  "Was just thinking about . . . what it might be like if I lost you.  How I'd make it."

She whispered, "You would."

"I wouldn't.  Couldn't.  Just won't work.  Tried it before.  Remember?"

"Yeah, I guess I do," she said, and in her own little slide show in her mind, she flashed on him, unraveling to the point of marrying someone else to keep his baby daughter, while she was recovering from a stroke.  She said, "Todd?"

"Yeah?"  

"When you married Tea . . ."

"Not this, Blair.  I just can't do it.  It's . . . something I don't really want to think about."

"I know.  Just one question?"

"All right, just one."

"Remember that bird?  What was his name?"

"Moose.  How can I forget him.  My best friend, then."

"He was only your best friend because you pushed your real best friend away."

He was serious a moment.  Looking into her eyes' greenness, he said, "I know.  I was wrong.  I've said it."

"Okay," she said, breathy.  Their stare lingered.  "Well, back to him.  He used to whistle at me.  Did you teach him that?"

"No."

"Did you teach him to flirt with me, and to like me?"

"No, pets just do what they know their masters feel.  Especially those birds.  Very intuitive."

"He hated Tea,"  she laughed to herself.

"He did.  But he loved you," he said, looking into her eyes again.

"All right, Todd," she smiled, "He loved me."

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