Hope from the Ocean: 33

"They have him?  Like, he's rescued?"  Todd asked, hopeful.

"No.  They believe they know where he is."

"Where?"

"Todd, I think it's best that . . ."

"Where?" he demanded.

"They believe he's being held where ya were.  In the catacombs."  A damp feeling of dread came over Todd as he flashed back to the dank, clammy cell with rock for walls.  He saw Leona, lying dead next to him, staring into his face as he lay on his back, powerless.  

He squeezed his eyes shut, and said, "The same place."

"They believe.  It was vacated for a long while, after you were saved.  They seem to have gravitated back to it."

"They went to a lot of trouble to create that place," his voice was hollow.

"It doesn't seem right, that they would continue to house their operation in a place that was already discovered."

"They might, if they thought that very fact would throw everyone off.  Besides, they . . . " his voice trailed.

"Todd?  Todd?  Are ya there?"

"Yeah, yeah I'm here.  They took pride in the place.  Believe me."

"I just wanted ya to know that they think they have a lead.  Problem is, the entire place is overrun with traps and explosives.  They don't want intruders.  That's clear."

"Of course.  Why would they?  You just . . . the RA21 can't waste time, you know why. . ."  his voice again trailed off.

"I do.  I realize the urgency, and I realize as well, that ya know this first hand.  I'm just telling ya, as y'ar new Pappy, don't stay with this, Todd.  Don't let it seep into y'ar mind."

"You want me to let it go, Old Man?  Is that what you mean?"  He regretted his tone, the moment it left his lips.

"Yes.  And I know it's a lot to ask ya, but yes.  Don't go into that place.  We will find him, and get him out.  Just let it go and let John do his job."

They hung up, and Todd sat, looking off into space.  He took his cell phone, and hauled back, letting it fly and smashing it against the far wall.  It was a few minutes before he noticed his sister, Tina, standing in the doorway.

***

"Good morning, Bea.  How are you today?"  Ray Martino said.

She shrugged.  This was different from her customary thumbs up, or thumbs down.

"Something bothering you?"

She shook her head "no" and moved toward him, pulling her chair with her.  She planted her notepad and her pen on the top of the desk.  The pad said, Where is Todd? and she pointed to it.

"He's in Ireland."

She squinted her eyes, questioning.

"He's helping a friend."

She wrote.  Where is Blair?  Where are the children?

"He took them with him.  He doesn't want to be apart from them again."

She nodded.  

Ray said, "Bea, I was thinking about the other day, when you were telling me about Peter, and Todd, and Todd's rage.  How you felt responsible.  I was wondering what you are thinking about that now?"

She took the pad.  The same thing I thought then.

"All right.  I wondered, who bears responsibility for your injuries that resulted in you not being able to speak?"

She looked down.

He said, "Bea?"

She did not respond to him, except to avoid his face and slightly rock.

"Bea, is it hard for you to think about that?  The Time of Black?"

Her rocking increased, the pace heightening.  He waited. 

Without warning, she covered her ears and opened her mouth in a silent scream.  Ray got up and went to her chair and knelt in front of it.  He attempted to get her eyes to meet his.  "Bea, focus on my face."

She didn't oblige.  Instead, she began to weep. . . and still covered her ears, as if to block out the sound of something that terrified her. 

Ray gently said, "Bea, listen to me."  He tried to remove her hands from her ears, "Bea, it's all right," he said, carefully pulling her hands away from her head.  "It's not happening now, it's over."

Her face covered in tears, Bea finally let her arms drop, her hands falling to her lap.  She began to sob to the point of shaking, and he kindly put his hands on her shoulders, and said, "Oh, Bea," and she looked up slowly.  He said, "I'm very sorry."  

Small whimpers came from in her throat, as she leaned toward him, and he held her.  "It's going to be all right.  You're going to face this, and you will get better.  This I can promise.  You will."

She finally left his embrace, and he still watched her face, as she looked into his, and shook her head "no."  

He said, "Yes.  Yes you will.  You will.  You didn't think you would remember everything, and you're starting to.  And, you never thought you'd see your son again, and you did."

She sniffled, and appeared to be considering what he said.  She reached past him and took her pad.  Scribbling on it hastily, he paused, still in front of her chair.  

It's so hard to think of it.  Peter was a bad man.  So very bad.  I can't think of it.  Please don't make me.

"No.  I won't make you.  I am sorry I pushed you.  I believe it will help you to face it.  Todd faced things.  It helped him."

Todd is strong.  I am not.  I am weak.  I did not run away.  I did not save him. I did not tell.  Peter punished me for my weakness!  God does not love me.

Ray thought of how much this interaction with Bea reminded him of Todd's fatalistic attitude.  "Doesn't God love everyone?  That is how God is, right?  God loves Todd, doesn't He?  Sister Rebecca Katherine has told you that.  Peter did those things to you because he was sick, Bea.  Not because you deserved them."

He did terrible things.  I can't think about it.

"Then don't today.   Don't think of it right now.  But I am telling you that it will help you, when you can."

What did Todd face?  What things?

"The  things that happened when he was held captive.  The things that happened with Peter, to him, and to you.  The things he had done that were motivated by his rage."

He is brave, my son.  Braver than me.

"You are brave also, Bea.  You are brave for trying to get well."

She didn't answer, she just hugged herself with her hands, while crying, and looking to the ceiling.

"Are you looking for the sparrows, Bea?"  Ray asked, becoming concerned.

She wrote, No.  I am looking for God and asking Him to make it stop.  I am asking Him to love me.

"He does.  And He will help you, Bea," Ray said, relieved.  He smiled softly.  "When you are ready."

***

"Todd?"

"Leave it be, Tina."

"Todd," she said softly, as if speaking to a child.

"Just, leave me alone, please."

She walked closer, and he avoided her gaze, struggling to keep his composure.  She reached one hand out, and slowly lowered it to his shoulder.  He looked at her hand, then gradually made his way up her arm to her face.  She slightly tilted her head, and said, "I'm sorry, whatever it is."

It wasn't clear to either of them which came first, but in the next moment, she was sitting beside him, pulling him compassionately into her arms, and he was letting her, leaning in.  He closed his eyes, and she said, "It's okay.  You'll get past it."  

He finally left her embrace, and she said, "Do you want to tell me about it?"

"No.  No one who didn't live it needs these details running around in their heads."

"Try me.  You'd be surprised."

He shook his head.  "It's not what you think.  You don't want to know."

"How do you know that?  You're my brother."

He looked at her, as if he had almost forgotten.  In fact, she was his whole sister; they both had the same pervert father and young mother.  He said, "Look at us.  Victor's kids."

"That's right.  Which makes me capable of handling whatever you have to say."

"Thornhart. . ."  He said.  She waited, and he cleared his throat.  "He's . . . I know what he's facing.  They think they know where he is being held, and it's the same place they held me when I was here two years ago.  I barely made it out alive.  My . . . handler was particularly sick."  

Tina didn't flinch.  She had purposely told herself not to, for his sake.  He continued, "I have the scars to remind me.  He had worked me over, and was ready to, well, finish the job.  I overpowered him and killed him.  If they have someone like that holding Thornhart, I mean, could there be more of them?  It's supposedly the same place I was.  What if there are more Leona's out there?"

"I doubt it.  He sounds like a rare bird."

"He was farmed.  At an orphanage in Greece.  They could have made more like him.  But believe me, I know he was an individual."  He subconsciously rubbed his shoulder.

"Is that where he hurt you, or worked you over, you said?"

"It's one place, yeah."

"What did he do?  Did you ever talk about it?  Do you want to?"

"I'm not really into reliving it, if that's what you mean."  He hiked his shirt sleeve up.  "See?  That's his handiwork."

"It's . . .perfectly rectangular."

"Yep."

She sighed, and then said, "So, you got past that."

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"So, you're healing.  And just like these scars, it's fading.  But you can't expect it to be totally gone.  So what if you slip, and feel something?  God, Todd, give yourself a damn break."

He looked at her and said, "Where did you get so smart all of the sudden?"

"I always was, you just never bothered to notice."

"Yeah, right," he said, as she rose off the bed, and went to the door.  

"Todd, if you need anything, or just to talk, you can count on me.  I know it's hard right now, with Blair, to really depend on her.  A lot is going on.  The baby, the past, your mother, you.  It's a lot to deal with."

"I'll remember that," he said, and she went on her way.  "Who was that?" he said aloud.

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