Hope from the Ocean: 22

The week of The Diamond Gallery Opening had arrived, and Dorian and Blair were discussing final details over lunch at the Country Club.  "Blair, you look wonderful.  Are you feeling all right?"

"I'm doing better.  I haven't had any problems since we all got home."

"That little Sam, he certainly makes life interesting."

"What I think is interesting," she said to her aunt, "is how you and Todd have somehow had a meeting of the minds."

"Let's just say . . . he loves you, Blair."

"He does.  He always has, Dorian."

"Maybe, but until now, he didn't understand what it meant."

"I'm glad, whatever it is."

"I . . . judged him wrong recently.  He's all about you and those children.  When I saw his hands . . . Blair, he was so crazed to get to that little boy as if he did not feel that pain."

"He loves us.  He felt it, likely, but he's been through way more than that.  He's also . . . gotten a tolerance for pain since . . . excuse me," she said, and ran from the table toward the ladies' room.  

Dorian followed, and pushed the door open to see Blair, putting cool water on her face.  Dorian said, "It was that bad?"

"Yes.  It was that bad.  Not to mention, morning sickness."

"Blair, is he . . . all right?"

"You're a little late.  He's been through the worst of it."

Dorian made an effort to change the subject, which was a difficult one to deal with.  "What do you say we go to the penthouse and meet up with Timothy, then we can head over to Unforgettable, all of us, and maybe have dinner later?"  Dorian said.

"That sounds good.  Williams can cart us around, he won't mind.  Todd's at home working today."

"Great, call him.  Williams, I mean.  We're done here, I don't see you eating much more."

"No, you're probably right," she said, taking her cell phone out.

***

"I don't like ya going out on a limb in Ireland again, Broham.  Ya know those men.  They don't give up.  We worked so hard to bring ya to America and save y'ar life."  The nun was not pleased with Timothy's information that he planned to go to Ireland.  "And another thing, this had better not involve one Todd Manning."

Timothy held the cell phone awkwardly.  "I've already told him he shouldn't make the trip, Creena."

"Well, is he listening?  Ya know when he gets an idea in his head . . ."

"I can't attest to that," he said, "but I've made it known how I feel about it."

"And ya know as well as I do, he feels an obligation to Marty Saybrooke, as well as Thornhart," she said, "and Blair is not going to be able to manage understanding in this one."

"He does.  But he knows that he is obligated to his wife as well.  I don't think he'll take this chance."

"I don't think he should, and if he asks me, I'll tell him exactly what I think, I will!"

"Creena, y'ar getting a tad ornery, now."

"Have ya seen Blair lately?  The poor thing is terrified."

"He said he'd handle her.  I trust Todd on that, if he says he's handling Bridgette, then I believe he is.  Now, don't try and tell me what to do, I've got to go to Dublin to meet with my contacts, and I'll not be gone long."

After his last sentence, the door to the penthouse slammed.  He turned, he saw Blair and Dorian, both with some packages that were now strewn on the floor beside them. Bundled in wintery gear, both had their arms folded over their chests.  He said, "Oh, Dear.  The hatred of the banshees is staring in me face."

Sister Rebecca Katherine, still on the phone, said, "Ah, ya gave her y'ar key, did ya?"

He said, "I will have to call ya back," and hung up.  To the women, he said, "Good afternoon, both of ya beauties."

"Beauty my ass!  What's this about Ireland?"  Dorian asked.

"And Todd?"  Blair questioned.

"Ah, I'm going to receive a thump.  A rather big one."  He looked to Blair, whose eyebrow raised.  "Or two."

Blair turned to Dorian, and said, "Can you find your own way home?  I'm going to Unforgettable now, and I'll need Williams to take me." 

Dorian nodded, "Of course."

"And you!" Blair said to Timothy, "Don't warn him," and she slammed out, leaving her packages on the floor.

"Oh Dear, Bridgette's upset, eh?"

"Bridgette?  Never mind.  What is the meaning of this trip to Dublin?  Are you out of your mind?"

***

Todd hung up the phone, and yelled, "Ramon!"

The executive assistant came through the doors to Todd's office in Llanview Center.  "Yes, Mr. Manning?"

"Ramon, it's all set.  Just please, messenger these papers over to the real estate agent I told you about.  Call Jenna and check on her development with this," he said, putting his coat on, "and make sure Mrs. Manning doesn't hear about it.  Got all that?"

"I believe so, Sir."

"Good.  I'm headed home, see you tomorrow.  I want those things taken care of by then."

"They'll be done, Mr. Manning.  Good night."

"Good night!"

He headed to the roof, and started the copter.  On the ride home, he thought of what it would be like when he got there.  He imagined racing up the stairs and taking her, passionately, in the bedroom by the fire.  He half smiled to himself.  All the years he waited, and dreamed of her and their family, and he finally had everything.  His plan was perfect.  Nothing would foil it; it was foolproof.  

He was positive of that.

He landed the copter on the helipad, and unbuckled his seatbelt.  Jumping out of the cab, he made his way to the doors, and realized the master bedroom glass panes were locked from the inside.  He turned and went to the side staircase leading to the kitchen entrance, and went into the house.

"Blair?  Blair!"  Todd called up the staircase as he came through the kitchen into the foyer.

She didn't answer.  Instead, she came down the staircase, carrying two bags, one in each hand.  "What?  I don't have much time."

"What are you doing, Blair?"

"What am I doing?  I'm leaving you, Todd."

"What?  Babe, come on.  Why the Hell? . . ."

"I'm going to La Boulaie.  The boys will come with me later today.  You can live here with your ideas of going to Ireland and helping Marty Saybrooke."

Stunned, he stood, bandaged hands in his front pants pockets.  He wasn't sure what to make of it, but she wasn't herself.  She was seeing red.  She was irrational.  He was not angry and not saddened by her threats.  Somehow, Todd Manning was standing there, afraid.

What the Hell is wrong with her?

"Blair.  Come on."  He put his arms out.

She walked by him, and pulled the door open.  "I'm leaving.  I'll call you later to arrange the rest.  If the boys want to stay here with you, then let them.  For now.   Otherwise, they come to Aunt Dorian's tonight."

He said, "Wait a minute, just one minute?"

She stopped, and barely looked at him.  "What?"

"You told Dorian?"

"Yes."

He gulped.  "We were making such headway, she and I."

"Oh well, you should have thought about that," she said, turning from him.

He found himself grabbing her arm.  "Blair, wait, I don't . . ."

She looked at his hand.  "Todd, let go of me.  I can't stay here.  I have to care for my . . . my unborn baby, and myself."

He looked into her eyes and saw her shattering in front of him.  Knowing it was better to, he released her arm and watched her get into the limo.  As it pulled off, he heard his cell phone and picked it up.  "Hello?"

"What the Hell is going on?  You're going to Ireland?"  Dorian said.  She sounded miffed.

"I never said anything about that."

"Well, Timothy did.  Blair was there today when he admitted he's going.  I mean, Blair's leaving you?  Goodness, Todd, we just got to the point where I thought you were good for her."  Her voice softened.  "You're not talking, not defending yourself, not stuttering a little, like you do when you're coming up with a whopper. . . Todd, something's very wrong, isn't it?"

"Yeah, something's wrong," he said, walking back into the house, and sitting on the stairs.  "I can't push it because I'm scared about the baby.  If she wants to go, then she has to go.  I tried to talk to her.  She didn't want to even listen."

"Well, we know what prompted this."

"Well, you said so already . . ." he stopped himself.  "Wait a minute, why am I talking to you about this?"

"I could ask myself the same thing, but she was very odd at lunch and at Timothy's.  I was extremely concerned.  She became sick at lunch talking about your hands, from the digging."

Todd knew what that was about, and decided to take a risk.  "It started before we even heard that Thornhart was missing.  Then, I asked her to call Marty for me to see what was happening.  She got upset, I immediately backed off.  It's been on my mind, and I formulated a plan.  I went to see Timothy the other day, and we went to John's office.  She was already there.  Seems she had called Marty already, and was talking with John about keeping me out of it, I guess, when I showed up there.  She never does things behind me that way, at least lately, since I came back.  The whole thing was confusing.  I never even said I was going anywhere, and she flipped out.  I got home today, she was packed and leaving me."

Dorian was quiet.  That alone made Todd uneasy.  She finally said, "You weren't here, Todd, when you disappeared in 1995.  Two days after your wedding, she was searching for traces of your dead body in Ireland.  She was pregnant with Starr, then, the same amount as she is now.  It was Winter, and she went to Innishcreg to find you.  Todd, she's . . ."

"She's terrified, isn't she?"  He began to put the pieces together, and said, "Yeah.  More than I thought."  With the opening in a few days, and the surprises he had organized, he wondered how they would get through everything with this complication emerging.

"Well, now I have to ask you to trust me.  Let me handle this.  Don't send the boys, no matter what.  Let me deal with this with just her right now.  And as for your adopted father, tell him I am not speaking to him,"  Dorian said.

Todd wasn't sure he had anything else to do but trust Dorian, and that was a reach for him.  "All right.  For tonight.  Tomorrow, I'm coming to get my wife back."

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