Hope from the Ocean: 15

"Dad, can I come in?"  Todd said.

"Of course, Son, y'ar always welcome.  Aside from the fact that this is y'ar place.  I will be paying it back, as we agreed, as I work for ya."

"I'm not worried about it."

"Then what are ya worried about?  I can see it on your face.  It's not Jack, is it?"

"No, Jack's fine.  In fact, he's got game."

"I'm not too sure what that means, but I am guessing that he's making headway with the young lady?"

"You could say that."

"All right, then what?"

"Blair.  And me, and Patrick Thornhart."

"Whoa, one thing at a time, Boy.  What are ya referring to?"

"Thornhart's missing.  Blair doesn't want me involved.  We fought about it, once already, and I don't want to cause her any stress.  She's terrified of losing the baby, and I can't let that happen."

"Y'ar in a bad lot, eh?  Damned if ya do . . ."

"Yeah, damned if I don't.  If I don't, Marty loses Patrick.  Patrick maybe dies.  The guy saved me."

"Ya also saved him, right, if my memory serves?"

"Yeah, but since then, he's definitely done more on the positive side than I have."

"Are ya runnin' a contest, Son?"

"No, I just mean . . . nothing can ever make up for what happened . . . what I did to Marty.  This could help even the score, I guess."

"She forgave ya.  Patrick did, too."

"So what do I do?  Leave him to rot?  If Patrick had done that, where would I be?  You wouldn't have a son, my kids wouldn't have a father, and Blair . . . she wouldn't have me, or be carrying my child."

"I'll help.  What can I do?  I have contacts, possibly I can make some calls."

"I want to go there.  You know, Ireland."

Timothy sank back in his chair.  "I see."

"He has to be there, let's face it.  The Men of 21 are not destroyed.  Wounded, but that's about it."

"They have a thing for ya.  Ya can't deny that opening this door opens the chances that ya leave y'ar family again, permanently."

"Not if we do it right."

"Ah, we.  Ya've got me in it already."

"I'd call John.  Get the FBI.  I'm a little confused why he's not already involved, to tell the truth."

"Did ya ask him?"

"I plan on it.  Today.  I just wanted to get your take on it first."

"I'll help ya, however ya want.  Ya know I have nothing but disdain for those men, and what they've done to innocent people all over the world."

Todd swallowed.  "I risk losing Blair over this.  She's not even interested in talking about it.  It made her upset, she got sick.  I can't risk that.  So, that leaves the question, what do I do?"

"Let's go to McBain.  See what he knows."

"You mean, you think he's into it already."

"I'm positive of that."

"All right, you busy?"

"No.  Let me change my shoes.  It's awfully white out there.  Ya know me, the Winter Man.  I enjoy it, but have to try and keep me feet dry."  He left the room.

Todd took out his cell phone, and scrolling through his contacts, stopped at OTB, and thought about calling Blair.  When Timothy made his way back into the room, Todd clicked the homescreen and dropped the idea, saying, "I can't lie to her.  Not anymore."

"I understand.  Too much has grown between ya to risk that.  Ya have to tell her whatever ya decide to do."  

"There could be a negative outcome.  She can't have stress."

"Wait on this.  I'll help ya, if ya want, if and when it comes to that."

The drive to McBain's office was uneventful, and Todd and Timothy exited the car, heading to John's place of work.  Both walked through the police station with a guarded demeanor; neither of them favored cops much throughout their lives.  Todd went to push the door open, and Timothy grabbed his sleeve.  "Don't ya think we should knock?"

"Knock.  Why?"  Todd shrugged at Timothy and pushed the door open.

Inside, John was seated at his desk, and clearly had a visitor.  When she turned, Todd squinted his eyes, and his fists slightly tightened at his sides.  Timothy mumbled, "Heaven help us."

John said, "I've told you before about knocking, Todd."

Blair, seated across from John, turned, and said, folding her arms, "Todd?  Knock?  Wrong day of the week, John."  Then, in a tone of salutation, "Mr. Manning . . ."

"Blair," Todd said. folding his arms in response.

***

Peter once grabbed my by my hair and dragged me all the way down the hallway.  He was very strong and he knew he could overpower us.  Todd was just a little boy.  He was so little, Ray, it does not seem fair.  Peter was so brutal toward Todd.  And Peter would go and grab me and drag me.  Then, he would push me down the stairs into the basement or drag me down.  When I was on the staircase, I'd be fighting to get back to the door, and to my baby.  He would push me or pull me back down, and I'd fight.  Sometimes, I would just freeze and go like I was dead.  I wasn't trying to, I just would.  My mind would go somewhere else and it would be a field with flowers.

"You were escaping inside yourself.  The fear and pain was too strong.  Our minds can do that."

Then, I would wake up chained in the closet, and I could hear Todd screaming and crying from upstairs.  I could hear it!  And I couldn't get loose.  Sometimes I would scream until I could not speak to try and get Peter to come back to me instead.  And other times, I'd go to the field and pick the flowers, and sit, plucking the petals off over and over and over.  It might be a long time before the closet door opened and light came onto my face.  It would hurt my eyes at first.  He would either come there to get me out, to beat me, to hurt me with his body, or to put Todd in there with me.

Ray stopped reading for a moment, and looked away.  He saw Bea, sitting across from him, her legs tucked under her, drawing.  He thought it was a strange position for a woman of her age, but he realized how childlike she often was.  He said, "This is very good, Bea.  You've remembered a lot of things here.  In great detail."

From her chair across from him, she nodded in acknowledgement.  He continued to read.

Todd didn't go in the closet by Peter, he would go on the mattress, and Peter might strap him down.  Sometimes he didn't.  Todd would come to the closet and open the door and try and get me down, but he couldn't.  He'd sit in the closet with me, on the floor, near my feet, which were barely touching the floor.  And I remember, Ray, that I told him how to get away.  I told him about the field.  I told him how to escape in his head.

Ray was cautious how he proceeded.  "You taught him something that later saved his life."

She looked up from her art, and had a quizzical look on her face, as she tilted her head to the left.

"He used what you taught him when things were difficult.  You helped save his life while he was kidnapped."

She flipped a page in her pad, and held it up to Ray.  Is that when he was missing for 8 years?

"Yes."

Did he go to the field?

"Not exactly the field, no.  He had his own special place to go to.  It helped save him."

She appeared confused, but went back to her sketching.

Ray continued to read.

These are some of the things I remember.  I know there are more, but it's hard to find them sometimes, inside my head.  It hurts sometimes to think of them.  Peter was cruel to both of us.  I wish I had run away and taken Todd with me.  I wish I could go back and do it all over.  I know it made Todd bad inside.  I know that he had dark in him.  It had to be, because dark was part of how he was grown.

Ray decided not to respond to the latter part of the letter, and allow Bea to absorb what she already had learned that day about Todd's coping mechanisms.  Not wanting her to delve into the darker things about Todd Manning at this point in her therapy, he said, "Todd has left most of that darkness behind, Bea.  It will be something we talk about in the future, if you want to."

She ignored him, and continued to draw.

***

She stood up and planted her hands on her hips.  "What are you doing here?"

"Me?  What about you?"

"I have my reasons."

"I bet."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

He didn't answer, he just stood, attempting to keep control.  She's gone to McBain behind my back.  But why?

She continued, "Oh, don't even start, Todd Manning."

"Start what?"

"You know."

He shrugged, and looked to Timothy.  "Do you know what she's talking about?"

"I don't want to guess, Lad.  Why don't ya both calm down and talk to each other."

"I'll second that.  Manning, Blair was here to . . ."  John started.

"You, shut up, and stay out of this," Todd heard himself say, and it was more than late to get the words back in once they escaped his mouth.

"Hey!"  John boomed, "This is my office, and Blair's not going to go through any argument over nothing if I have anything to say about it.  Now sit down and hear her out."

"Todd, you're jealous, aren't you?"  Blair said.

"I don't know.  Should I be?  You tell me, Blair.  What are you doing here?"

She softened, and said, "There's nothing between me and John, Todd.  Nothing between me and any other man as long as you are on the face of this earth.  Or have you still not been able to accept that?"

He felt Timothy's hand on his back, and relaxed his hands.  He walked quietly to the couch by the window, and sat.  Blair unfolded her arms and also sat.  John said, "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to get some materials for this case, and be back.  Timothy, I trust you to try and keep the peace."  John walked out.

Blair's demeanor changed, and she looked at him with tears in her eyes.  "Todd," she spoke almost in a whisper, "Why did you act that way?"

"I don't know.  I think I just have this thing about him.  He was married to you, he's a white knight type.  Just gets me to see you around him without me knowing.  Makes me want to smash something."

She smiled tenderly.  "No, Todd.  There's nothing to smash, or else, no reason to smash things.  There's no one else for me.  You must know that.  I wasn't here to see John, not like that."

"Then why are you here?"

"Why are you here?"

"About Patrick Thornhart.  Wanted to know what McCop knew about it.  See if he had any leads.  See if Dad could help."

"That's why I am here, too."  Blair admitted.

"Huh?  I don't understand.  You didn't want us anywhere near this."  Todd said.

"I didn't.  And I don't.  But you did, Todd.  It was about you.  I wanted you to . . . I called Marty."

He looked at her with wide eyes.  "You called her?  I thought . . ."

"I called her because you wanted me to.  Because it was important to you.  I know what it means to you to make things up to her."

He swallowed, and said, "Babe, you didn't want to."

"No, I didn't.  But I did.  She's a mess, Todd.  He's gone.  She believes it's . . ."

Timothy interjected, "The Men of 21, eh?"

Blair nodded.  

Todd said, "You did that because of me."  She nodded again.  He put his hand out, "Come here."

She got up and went to him and landed in his lap with her head over his shoulder.  He wrapped her in his arms.  "I'm sorry about being a jealous jerk," he said quietly into her ear.

"That's okay.  I understand.  I always did kind of like it when you got that way.  Emphasis on 'kind of.'"

John walked in, "All resolved?  I guess so, otherwise you wouldn't be sitting that way."

"Yeah, I guess I overreacted.  I just wasn't sure how to take her being here without my knowing."  Todd turned to his wife.  "So, what does this mean, that you're okay with me trying to help Marty?"

"Uh, no, that's not what it means at all," she said, her ire starting to rise.

John said, "You know what, let's go slow with this, you two, before all Hell breaks loose."  Blair, who was still on Todd's lap, put her arms back around his neck, and rested her head back onto his shoulder.  He kept his arms around her, and they listened to John.  

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