Hope from the Ocean: 26

"I'm not speaking to you, didn't Todd pass the message along?"  Dorian said.  It was morning, and Timothy was making his usual stop by La Boulaie for breakfast.

"It must have slipped his mind.  He never mentioned it, Lass."

"Lass.  Hmf.  Don't try and do Lass with me."

"Now why do ya have to be so hard-pressed to be angry?  I've lived in Ireland most of me life."

"You escaped there, narrowly, with that life, such as it is.  And here you are, trying to run back into that den of danger."

"Ya talk in poems.  Perfect way to an Irishman's heart."

"Sweet talk will get you nowhere.  Now, please leave."

"I'd rather stay with ya and talk, Dorie."

"Well, I'd rather poke out my eyes with a tongue depressor."

"Such violence."

"Such annoyance.  Please, Timothy, make yourself scarce.  I don't want to have anything to do with you if you're going blindly into this ridiculous search.  Look what it's all doing to Blair?"

"Blair can take care of herself, though," Blair said, coming down the stairs.  "But now that you mention it, it is stupid."

"Bridgette, sight for sore eyes."

"I'd like to say the same, but right now, you and Todd are both just . . ."

"Todd?  He's not going with me to Ireland."

"What?"  Dorian and Blair both said.

"No one ever said he was.  If he's going to Ireland, it's not with me.  I'm off with John McBain the day after the opening of The Diamond Gallery."

"He's not going with you?"  Blair asked again.

"Not that I know of.  He's never said he was, now, did he?"

"Well, I heard you saying he would 'handle me.'"

"I am sure ya did.  That was in reference to y'ar difficulties with y'ar pregnancy.  He's been quite worried about ya."

Blair put on the pretense of not believing Timothy and folded her arms.  For a moment, she flashed back on the ecstasy she had felt the night before, listening to him moan and pant over the phone line.  She shook herself loose of it, and said, "Whatever," and went and sat by the French doors and poured herself some coffee.  

"Dorie, I hope you'll reconsider.  I don't want to leave with ya mad at me.  But ya still have a day or so.  McBain will keep me safe, he and his men.  I need to do this; it's important to Todd and to me, as well."  

He left.  Dorian, looking disappointed, joined Blair, who also wilted like a under-watered flower.  Dorian said, "Am I being too hard on him?"

"No."

"Of course, you'd say that.  Why am I asking you?"

"Well, what did you want me to say?  He's doing something unnecessarily dangerous."  Blair said.

"Perhaps, but it's for all the right reasons."

"You just miss him."

"It's only been a day, I am certain at my age, and my maturity, I can deal with a little separation."

"How many hours has it been?"

"19 . . . and forty-five minutes."

***

"Bea, I wanted to speak to you, about your letter."

She sat across from Ray Martino, legs under herself on the chair.  She was holding a picture of The Mannings that Todd had sent her.  She nodded in agreement, and flashed the picture toward Ray.

"Beautiful, aren't they?  See what Todd has become?"

She nodded again.

"I wanted to tell you that the things you wrote in the letter were not dreams."

She wrote and turned the pad toward him, Thank you for finding out for me.  You had to ask Todd, didn't you?

"Yes.  He remembered."

Was he sad?  Was he all right?

"He was fine.  He's moving past it.  He is healing."

He did not cause it.  It's easier if you didn't cause it.

"I think you're right.  But that does not mean you won't heal."

I don't deserve healing.

"Everyone deserves healing."

I don't think so.  She lowered her head, and began to doodle on the note pad.

"Todd would say you deserve it.  Doesn't that matter?"

She shook her head no, and pointed to herself, and then her head.  

She's saying she knows she doesn't deserve to be better and happy.  Sounds just like him.

If I did something.  If I moved us away, ran away.  Or if I called the police.  Or killed Peter myself.  Things would be okay.

"What makes you think things are not okay?"

I am responsible for what happened to Todd.  And, then I am responsible for the things he has done.  He did not do good things always.

"No, he didn't.  Everyone makes mistakes, everyone learns from their lives."

Still.  I bear the responsibility.  He was broken.  He was a broken child, and later was a broken young adult, and then a broken man.  Anything he did, I bear responsibility for, letting him be hurt the way he was, over and over.  

THAT BELONGS TO ME.

"You were also abused.  You were in pain, as much as he was.  You weren't well."

My job as his Momma was to protect him.  

Her eyes filled with tears.  Ray said, "Bea, what things have you learned that Todd did?"

She put the pad down and pushed it toward Ray.

"I see, you don't want to talk about it.  Do you believe that if I went out and did something terrible today, someone else would bear responsibility for it?"

She looked at him, and didn't respond.

He repeated.  "If I went out today and killed someone, would someone else be responsible, or would I?  I have my own will, my own decisions.  Who would pay for the crime?"

She finally decided to write.  Were you raped and beaten by your own father for years?

Ray swallowed reading her words.  "No.  But you know I'd be responsible for anything I did.  Let me ask you this.  Should Blair run away from Todd, and leave him, because of the terrible things he did?"

She appeared puzzled.

"Should people that Todd hurt refuse to forgive him after he has shown remorse and paid for what he did?"

She wrote, When did Blair first love Todd?

Her curiosity had taken over, and he could see that she was longing to know more about her son.  What she had read in the papers and public records had devastated her.  "She loved him when I first knew him.  He was in jail, accused of a crime he did not commit.  The whole town considered him guilty.  Blair didn't.  She knew he was innocent.  She loved him then, just after he was pardoned."

She put the pen down, and thought.  It was her way of saying that she needed time to process something.  He waited.  

She wrote, What about the woman?

Ray couldn't deny that he knew this question was coming.  "Her name is Marty."

She nodded.

"She forgave him.  The man she loves saved Todd's life a little over two years ago.  He forgave him as well."

Bea's bottom lip trembled, and tears spilled over onto her face.  He said, "It's all right.  I think most people feel he has more than paid for his mistakes."

She brought her hand to her face, and traced the scar on her own cheek.

"Yes.  Did you read about that?"

She shook her head "no."

"I'm going to let Todd decide to tell you that.  That's his story, and I believe it would help you if he told it."

She cried, looking at her hands.

"Why, Bea, must you blame yourself for what Todd did?  Would you want his children to blame their ills on him?"

She shook her head.

"Peter is to blame for the things he did to both of you.  What did you think would happen if you tried to stop it or get help?"

She reluctantly picked up the pen, and wrote.  He said he would kill him and burn his body in the yard with the trash.

"So it's simple, you were afraid he would kill Todd, and you."

No, just Todd.  I didn't care if he killed me.  I would sometimes wish for death, and when I was in the chamber, sometimes I'd see Death coming, and I would be so thirsty, and see Death right there.  Death was a flock of sparrows.  I'd see them come when it was longer than three days in the chamber.  And I'd ask them to take me, but he would always come and give me water and sometimes let me down from the chains, or let me back into the house.  I didn't care if he killed me and sometimes, I asked.  And he would laugh.

"I am sorry, Bea.  These are terrible things."

She covered her face with her hand and wept.  Ray waited, allowing her to grieve.  Finally, she got the pen back, and wrote. I want Todd to forget it all.  But I know he can't, because I can't.

"I'll agree.  He won't be able to forget.  It took him years to remember, and I don't believe he's done.  But he has moved on.  Look at his family, his beautiful wife, expecting another child.  He has moved on, Bea."

She nodded, looking at her hands again.  A long silence ensued, where she continued to look at her hands, and Ray remained silent.  Finally, she picked up the pen.  Do you think he really forgives me for what I let happen?  Do you think he blames me for his anger and his rage?

"I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that he does not blame you and that he does forgive you.  He just wants you to get better.  That is why he is giving this hospital money, and providing so many good things for people here.  He loves you, and he knows you tried your best.  And that is what all parents do."

Ray sat across from her and silently waited, in case she wanted to say more.  She sighed, and continued to cry for the remainder of their hour. 

***

Todd woke, and reaching to the bed next to him, he felt that Blair was not there, and was immediately transported to reality.  She had left him, it was real, and he was getting her back this day.

Looking at the clock, he was almost startled.  It was close to ten o'clock, and the house was quiet, except for what he discerned as a television set, somewhere in the house, and slight clanging of dishes.  He realized he was still partially nude from the waist down from the night before, and he still ached for her.  Sitting up, he didn't bother to comb his hair, he just headed to the boys' rooms to see what was going on.  Jack was gone, his bed neatly made.  Peeking in Sam's room, he saw the little boy reading a book.  Sam caught his eye and said, "Hi Dad."

"Hi, Sam."

"Dad, you look wrecked."

"Maybe I am."

"Dad, is Mom coming home today?"

"Yeah, I'm going to go get her."

"And tomorrow, that art thingie, right?"

The opening.  He'd almost forgotten.  "Right, the art gallery opening.  Tomorrow, sure."

"Dad, you look pretty bad.  You probably should shave."

"Oh I should, huh?"

"Yeah, especially before you go to get her."

"All right, I'll keep that in mind."

"Kay."

He went to the staircase and to the lower level.  There was Tina, in the kitchen, drying some dishes off, and feeding Ray, who was in the high chair.  For a moment, he just wanted to hold his son so badly, that he almost tripped over himself getting there.  He lifted Ray out of the high chair, and held the little piece of Blair to his chest.  Ray was particularly calm that morning, and didn't squirm away from Todd and try and get down and run.  He looked at his father and gave his customary greeting, "Day.  Day."  He knew that came from Blair, greeting Ray every morning, saying " Hey, baby boy, it's a new day!"

"I know, Good Morning to you, too."

"Daddy, twuck."  He pointed to a toy truck that had been left on the floor.  "Titi said no twuck."

"I see."  Sentences.  He's growing up.  On his next birthday, he'll be  . . . three.  Three years old.  For a moment, he swallowed back a bit of bile that crept up, remembering the conversation with Ray from the day before.  He looked at his son, and cupped his entire head with his hand, and kissed the top of it, smelling the baby smell that still was there.  His eyes burned.  

Tina, watching Todd's reactions, said, "You look tired.  Did you have trouble sleeping, because I've got everything here under control?  You could go back to bed."

He was tempted.  He swooped down and grabbed the truck, and bringing Ray upstairs with him, he went into the master bedroom, and decided to hang there with his two sons.  Going to Sam's room, he picked Sam up in his arms, and carried him into the master bedroom suite.  He put Sam onto the couch, and Ray, who was on the floor, playing with his truck, made happy noises.  Sam's cast was propped on the arm of the sofa.  He was still holding the book he was reading.  

Todd said, "There, just us three men for a while.  What do you think, Sam?"

"Great.  Just don't put me out on that balcony any time soon."

Todd laughed to himself, and then made himself comfortable on the floor in front of the fire, with Ray on his chest, driving the truck all along the imaginary roads on Todd's body.  After a few minutes, Ray climbed off and started to play under the coffee table, and make truck sounds, soft buzzes, while Sam continued to read, commenting here and there about the plot of the book.  

Todd awoke with a start, on the floor, by the fireplace, and Ray was gone.  He sat up, quickly, and Sam said.  "Hey, Dad, don't worry.  I texted Aunt Tina from my DS.  She came and got Ray.  It's his nap time anyway, so she went and put him down."

"I fell asleep.  Some men's day, huh?"

"You're just tired, Dad.  You probably couldn't sleep much without Mom."

Sam was half right.  After Blair sang him to sleep following their phone sex, which Todd raised an eyebrow at remembering, his sleep had been disturbed with nightmares, and he had tossed and turned most of the night.  When he had said, all those years ago, that she quieted the voices in his head, he was understating the truth by a long shot.  Now, to get her back home, where she belonged.

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