Hope from the Ocean: 12

"Jack, I really love the snow," Sam said, his face practically pressed to the glass of the window in his room.

"It's okay," Jack said, pulling Sam away and tucking him in.

"I wait for Mom for that," Sam said.

"I know, Squirt, I just like to do it sometimes."

"Jack, that girl, Jenna?  Are you gonna marry her?"

"I don't know.  I guess I could, someday."

"So if you marry an artist, what are you?"

"Married to an artist, you goof."

"Do you ever make wishes?"

"Yeah, I make wishes."

"I do, too.  Lots of times."

"Why?"

"I don't know.  I want one of my wishes to come true but it hasn't yet."

"What is it?"

"I can't say it because then it won't come true."

"Oh, is that so?"

"Yeah.  How does Superman fly?"

"He doesn't.  He's a superhero, which means he's not real."

"Like Spiderman?"

"Right."

"Jack, when I wake up, will it still be snowing?"

"I don't know, Stumpy."

"If it is, will the snow be as high as the house?  I could jump out into it?"

"No, Sam.  You can't.  You talk about that all the time, you just can't.  The snow isn't soft like that.  You'll get hurt."

"It's soft.  I felt it before.  It's really soft, like when I lay down in it on the ground."

Jack's phone went off in his pocket.  Dismissing Sam, he turned to his phone.  "Uh, Runt, I have to go take care of something.  See ya later.  Mom will be up in a while."  He turned to go to his room, and almost bumped into Blair on the way.  "Oh, sorry, Mom."

"That's okay.  Is this a 911 call?"

"It's Jenna, she's texting me, I'm going to go read it.  Looks like Sam is just about ready for bed.  Jabbering about the snow, though."

"What else is new?  He has such a fascination with it right now.  All right, thanks, Jack, for getting Ray put down."

She went into Sam's room.  He was already falling asleep.  She put the blanket up around his shoulders, and kissed his forehead.  "Night, Little Man."

She pulled the shade, and left him to go back to Todd in home office.

***

I don't know what to do.  It just hurts.  I never told her the things I felt.  I should have.

Jack read Jenna's words over twice before answering.

Maybe you should talk to someone.  Like a counselor.

After he sent it, he hoped she was not too upset by his response.  It took slightly longer than he would have liked for her to respond.  

I might.  That is really not the worst idea.  Maybe Ray?  I know he's a good therapist.  You saw him, didn't you?

Jack typed rapidly.

Yep.  And my Dad.  

Maybe I'll ask Lynnette.

Sure.  And if there's any problem with the insurance or money, let me know.  Me and Ray go way back.

She wrote back simply:

:D 

He turned over and shut the light.  In the dark, he could still see the small flakes cascading past the moon in his skylight.

***

"I know what this is going to do to you, Todd.  I know how your mind works,"  Blair said, walking in to the home office, and catching him facing the window, his fingers pressed together.

"You do?"

"Yeah, I do.  You're going to worry yourself silly over this.  We have our lives, Patrick and Marty have theirs."

He looked at her in the dimly-lit office.  "Marty will never have a life totally separate from mine thanks to me.  She'll always have . . . memories of what I did."

She sighed, and went behind him.  She put her hands on his shoulders and kneaded softly. "Maybe.  But all that is behind both of you.  She's forgiven you, Todd."

"So?"

"So she has.  They have their own lives."

"He's missing.  What does that do for her?  Ruins her again?  He saved my life, Blair.  He saved me.  He saved us."

She listened, not liking where it was going, and said, "I know he did.  I'm grateful."

"Call her."

"Huh?"

"Call Marty, for me, please?  Ask her if he was found, or what's going on."

"Todd, no.  I don't want us involved in this.  Not again, Todd."  She walked from behind him, and lowered herself to the couch, as if uncomfortable.  "Not again."

He looked at her, and in doing so, saw everything at once.  She was slightly bent forward, as if she was in pain.  Her face, on the other hand, wasn't stricken with discomfort.  It was twisted with a combination of fear and anger.  Palpable.  

He said, "He saved my life, Blair."

She almost wilted, like a flower in front of him.  "He saved your life.  You saved his.  You're even."

"Really?"  he said, asking both of them, not just her.  I could live for 200 years, and I'd still be in the red to you.  

"Todd, don't.  Please."  Her face had changed.  The anger was gone, but the remnants of it glistened in her eyes, shining.

"Don't what?"

"Don't do this, please, to us.  Please don't get involved."

"What if I were gone?  What if I disappeared again?  Wouldn't you expect someone to help you?"

"Yes.  I'd go to John.  I'd get him into it."

"You would do better to ask Patrick or Timothy.  Someone who cares about us, who knows us, right?  I  can't just let this happen.  I have to at least know what's going on."

"No."

"Call her, Babe, please."  She stood, and wobbled.  

He was out of the chair in seconds, and took her arm.  "You all right?"

"Yeah, I'm all right.  You go ahead and call her.  You want to know so bad.  You want to be in her business so much . . ."

"Blair, that's not fair.  You know there's nothing like that with Marty and me."

"I'm not going to talk with you about this anymore," she pulled away from him and went down the hall.  He heard the door slam. 

Can she really think I've got a thing for Marty, now, after all this time?  After all we've been through? Doesn't she know I love her . . . I love her, more than anything . . .

He got up and walked down the hall, toward their bedroom.  He knocked, quietly.  She didn't respond.  He knocked again, then turned the knob.  It was unlocked, and he walked in, and could see her on the bed, her back toward him.  He could tell from her position that her knees were tucked up close to her.  

He approached the bed, and sat on it, next to her.  "Babe?"

"Leave me alone."

"You don't have anything to be jealous of."

"Is that what you think?  Jealous, sure."  She was sarcastic.  He stopped, and placed his hand on her head, touching her hair, gently.  "I said leave me alone."

"Blair, don't shut me out, now.  Come on."

"Jealous is all you can think of?  Shit, Todd, after all this time, you can do better than that."

"You can't be jealous, of anyone.  Ever.  You're Blair."

"That's because I'm not.  Not the way you think I am."

He stroked her hair, and her shoulder.  "Come on, look at me."

"No.  Just stop, please.  I can't . . ."

He took a chance and lifted her into his arms, and she collapsed against him in tears.  "Oh, Todd."

"Shhh," he said, "it's okay.  Shhh."

After a few minutes, she pulled herself together.  "You want me to call her, I'll call her.  I'll do it for you because, well, I'd do anything for you.  You're my heart.  But don't expect me to ever get over this one, Todd Manning."

"Hey, hey, what's this about?  I just want to find out what's wrong."

"No, it's more than that."

"Wonder why McBain didn't mention this?"

"He either doesn't know, or figures you wouldn't want back in to this again.  Gee, what would make him ever get that idea?  As if you'd mind your business and stay out of it.  This is another piece of that golden ticket to being absolved for something you've already been forgiven for, years ago."

"Maybe.  But I still feel it, here."  He pointed to his chest.   She leaned down and kissed the spot he touched, and then leaned away from him, her hands propping her behind her on the bed.

"I thought you were about letting go," she said, then closed her eyes and grimaced.

The baby.  Manning, you promised to take care of her, not let her get upset. . .

"You're right.  I did say that.  Okay.  No call then."

She looked at his face, and into his eyes.  "You're not happy with that, and you know it."  She thought about it, "But I can't be happy with the other."

He said, "Then nothing.  I can do without this.  I'll go to John, get him involved instead."

She didn't answer.  Instead, she hopped off the bed and ran to the bathroom.  The slam of the seat to the toilet hitting against the tank startled Todd, as he followed her.  Patting her back and holding her hair out of the way, he watched her become violently ill into the bowl.  He got a cold towel, as she has done for him so many times, and placed it at the base of her neck.  She cried.  "Just, Todd, please.  I . . ."  More heaving.

Finally, it passed, and she fell back against him.  He guided her to sit on the edge of the tub, with her head against his shoulder.  "I'm so scared," he heard her whisper.

"There's nothing to be scared of.  Last time, you got sick like this.  And the first time, too.  You always had it."

"I know, I'm just scared, Todd.  I can't lose her."

He ran his hand over her face, and turned her to look at him.  "You won't.  We won't."

"I don't want to fight," she said, huskily.

"Fight?  Who, us?"

She smirked.  "Hold me," she said.

He did.  He pulled her close and they stayed there until the room fell silent except for her breathing.  Picking her up in his arms like a child, he brought her to the bed, and placed her in, lovingly.  She breathed against him gently in the dark, and he was hesitant to let go and join sleep.

He said softly, "No one is going to take us from each other.  And no one is going to hurt this baby."

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