Hope from the Ocean: 38

"I'm not going to cry," Blair said, and as she did, water spilled over onto her face.

"I know you're scared, but there's no reason to be.  I'll be back in a few hours."  Todd answered.  His hands were resting on her hips, and hers were dangling behind him, her arms around his neck.  He said, "Nothing will happen to me.  I promise not to play hero.  I will be careful.  Believe me, you will be in the front of my mind."

Blair was in complete despair; he could see it on her face and trickling down her cheeks.  Inside, though he knew he was doing the right thing, he was still concerned for her and the baby.  He brushed all of her tears off her skin, and touched under her chin.  "When I get home, you know what I'll want?"

She shook her head no, mostly because she couldn't speak.

"I'll want to be inside you all night, holding you, loving you.  Can you manage that?"

She laughed slightly.  "You're so different.  All those years ago, you never would have said something like that, never mind out loud."

"All those years ago, I wasn't aware what it would be like without you.  I need you, Blair."

She swallowed, "I am not complaining.  I love to hear it."  She was on the verge of bursting into sobs, but she held fast.

Sister Rebecca Katherine had helped Todd make a much more detailed map, and was hanging back, in the side room off of the foyer, waiting in case she was needed.  She couldn't hear much of what they were saying, but by their actions, she knew Blair would need her when he was gone.

Todd said, "You'll be hearing it a long time.  Keep your phone on.  Mine is fully charged.  I'll call you throughout everything whenever I can."  It was nine o'clock.

She hugged him, and for a moment, all she could see was 1995, the airport hangar door, and him, turning back to her, his long hair shining, as he waved goodbye.  When you have it all . . .

He put his hand into her hair, and said, "Listen.  I'll see you in a little while."  He lifted her chin with his other hand, and kissed her lips gently, but full of deep feeling.  She felt her knees slightly buckle, and she put on a smile, the best she could.  He has to leave with me loving him.  With me supporting him.  I can never let him walk out of a room again without that.

He said, "Talk to you in a few minutes," and he was gone.

She stood for a moment, in the same spot he had left her.  As if in shock, she made whimpering noises, but didn't move.  She held her hand to her mouth, and felt as if she couldn't take another breath.  That was when Sister Rebecca Katherine noiselessly approached her, from behind, and stood.  The nun carefully reached up and put her hands on Blair's shoulders, and the younger woman doubled over as if in pain.  Sobs wracked her, and the nun could do nothing but catch her as she fell, and bring them both to the floor; the older one cradling the younger, and the sobs filling the foyer and reverberating off the ceiling.  "There, there, child, you mustn't.  It's only a few hours.  He will be back soon."

Nothing could console her.

Starr, hearing the noise, came into the foyer and went to her knees, "Mom?  Mom, what's wrong?"

Blair couldn't speak. It was as if she was unable to even formulate a sentence to explain herself.  Sister Rebecca Katherine said, "Y'ar mother did a brave and selfless thing.  She let y'ar father go to do something he needs to do."

Starr's tears were welling up.  "Mom, really, he's going to be all right.  John's there . . ."

"No, no, Starr.  John's not there."  Blair said, and her voice was ragged and choppy, as if a breath had to be taken between each word.  "He's alone.  He's . . . just alone."

"No, he's not.  He's got a band of toughies with him.  He'll come out of it fine.  Righter than rain," the nun said.

Blair's cell phone rang.  Starr scrambled to get it from the side table.  Answering, she said, "Hello?  Hi, Dad.  Yeah, she is.  Okay."  She handed Blair the phone.

After several gasps for air, she said, "Todd?"

"Don't do this, okay?  Please, Babe."

"Todd."  That was all she could say.

"Babe, just tell me right now to get home, and I will.  Whatever you want."

She shook her head no, but continued to cry, unrelentingly.  The nun took the phone.  "Ah, Todd.  She can't talk, can't express herself, but she's shaking her head 'no,' in response to whatever ya just said.  She's having a bit of trouble, but we'll calm her.  Ya do the good work, and we'll see ya shortly.  Call her back in a few, she'll get herself together."

"Sister, keep Blair and the baby safe.  Don't let her work herself up.  I won't be gone long.  I promised her, and I'll keep it."

"All right," the nun said, handing the phone back to Blair.

He said, "Remember, Mrs. Manning, what I expect when I get home."

Tell him.  Don't let him see you're afraid for him.  Tell him.  She took in a large gasp of air and said, "I know.  I'll be here.  You won't know what hit you."

"Is that a promise?"

"Yes.  It is."

"Can I make one?"

"Yes, sure," she managed to say.

"We won't be apart for long.  And hopefully, never again."

"All right," she said, her voice elevating.  "Todd, be careful.  Come home to me and Jewel."

"I will Babe.  I'll call you in a bit, when I get into Rialto.  I love you, Blair."

"I love you, Todd."  She let the phone slide from her hand, and leaned against Sister Rebecca Katherine, looking physically spent.  Her cries were more like breaths, and her sounds were gone.  She was silent, and tears ran down her face without hindrance from her constant wiping them.

Starr said, "Mom?  It's going to be all right.  Too much has happened.  You're stronger now, both of you."

She didn't move or talk.  She just leaned against the nun and let the tears flow like rainwater.

Sister Rebecca Katherine said, "This is fear.  Just fear.  Ya'r afraid, just as ya were about the babe.  He's going to be fine, it's only a few hours before he comes back through that door.  Now let's stop.  Can we get up, now?"

Blair didn't move.

"Ya want to stay on the floor in the foyer?  It's a little cold and awkward for me old bones."

***

After getting off the phone, Todd disembarked the limo, heading toward Rialto.  The car had taken him only to the outskirts of Dublin, and he knew, from the past, that a short walk would bring him to Timothy's flat.  It was dark, and the streets were not highly populated, since it was a Tuesday night.  He had the baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, and was in all black.  Just like McBain.  I'll get Count Dracula later for impersonating me.

He crossed the street, headed to Timothy's flat, when he got a call on his cell.  "Son, the meeting place has changed.  Seems they want us elders out of it.  Ya have to go to a new locale.  Check your text messages for directions.  It should be a few minutes from where ya are now."

"Dad, are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine.  Are ya?"

"Yeah.  A little worried about Blair.  But I'm fine, sure.  I'm ready."

"Son.  Remember, please.  Whatever ya can do for Thornhart is more than enough.  Ya don't owe him anything anymore.  Marty has forgiven ya, and more than that, Blair loves ya, and that is the greatest sign of forgiveness anyone can have.  Preserve that, and put it first, Lad.  Love ya, Son."

He ended the call, pushing back the nervous feeling in his throat.  The directions popped up, on his phone, and he swallowed.  He read them, and deleted the message, as he made his way, in the dark, to the cafe across from the Rialto Theater.

***

Starr looked at the nun, and they, without speaking, decided to get Blair up off the floor and into the drawing room.  Starr was concerned; her mother was getting clammy to the touch, and she just wanted to get some hot tea or soup into her.  The two women stood, dragging Blair with them, and after a few minutes of struggle, all three were standing.  Blair appeared as if she were drunk; she stumbled and was almost incoherent.  

They sat her on the couch, and the nun pulled Blair into her arms, and stroked her head.  "Bridgette, it's all right."

The tears continued to fall, and as Starr got up to go into the kitchen to get some hot tea, Blair took her hand.  She stopped and looked at her mother.  "Mom?"

"It's my fault.  When I first married your father, I lied to him.  I lied to him about something so important.  Just to get him to marry me, so I could get the money he didn't even know he had."

"Mom, let me go and get some tea."

"Then, I lost our first baby.  He died, Starr.  And then, after a while, I fell so in love with your father, there could never be anyone else.  I swore nothing would keep us apart, ever again.  Then, your father left me, the day after our wedding, to come here, to this Godforsaken place, and try and help that Marty Saybrooke.  To absolve himself.  And nothing was the same, ever again.  When he came back, at the David Vickers Premier, I knew it was him, the first second I saw him.  I never really doubted it, not in here."  She pointed to her chest, and Starr noticed her hands were violently shaking.  She continued, "But in reality, I never deserved that happy ending, Starr," she said, shattering.  "I let your father be held captive, for years, tormented and tortured, and abused, and I should have known.  There was a little voice in me, all along.  I should have known.  I don't deserve his love.  I don't."  Starr could barely understand the rest of it, so she sat back down and wrapped her arms around her mother, and tried to comfort her.  

The young woman looked at Sister Rebecca Katherine and shook her head in negation, and the nun said, "Come on, Bridgette, Dear Heart.  Let's go upstairs and get you into the tub for a nice bath.  I'll sit with ya.  I won't leave ya alone.  I promise ya." 

Blair slowly got up, and leaning on both women for support, she said, dreamily, "I just want to lie down.  Please.  I just want to sleep.  I can't do this."

They walked her to the stairs, and led her to the master bedroom.  She fumbled with the buttons on her red sweater, and Starr leaned down and helped her get it off.  "Mom, let me do it, okay?"

Blair's hands were shaking so profusely, that the nun quickly ran off to Tina's room, and asked her to go and make herbal tea.  Tina, agreeing, flitted by the door, and made her way downstairs, leaving Jack in charge of Ray for the time being.  Blair, who was seemingly more and more disconnected from everything around her, said, "Starr.  Your father loved me."

"Yes, I know he does, Mom.  He'll be back."

"He loved me from the moment we first touched each other.  Do you know that?"

Starr felt a lump in her throat.  "I know, Mom.  Both of you told me.  And he loves you now, more than ever.  Stop talking for a while, okay?"  She pulled her mother's nightgown over her head.  Blair swung her legs up onto the bed, and covered herself, pulling her legs up as close as she could.  She shivered under the blankets, and Starr began to worry.

When Sister Rebecca Katherine came back, Starr whispered, "She's not acting right."

"Emotional shock.  She wasn't ready for this.  It was nothing she even considered when she got here.  With the hormones, and the stress, she's shutting down a bit.  We need to just watch her, that's all.  With the way things went back in '95, she's in a state of absolute terror right now."

Tina appeared at the door.  "Tea anyone?"

***

In the cafe, Todd searched the crowd, and before he was done, a very young man approached him.  "Are ya Todd?"

"Yeah.  Who are you?"

"William.  Jimmy's grandson."  The kid couldn't have been more than twenty-five.  "Nice to meet ya.  It's an honor."

"Nothing honorable in meeting me," Todd said, smirking.

"Come on," William said, leading Todd to a small room in the back.  Opening the curtain with both hands, he brought Todd into a small area, with a round table.  On it were papers, maps and photographs, one of which was Thornhart's.  Todd reached into his jacket pocket and brought out his map.  He placed it on the table.

All eyes were on him, and in his haste, he hadn't looked around enough.  A red-haired, freckle-faced kid, about nineteen or so; William, who had brought him in; another man, salt-and-pepper haired, and, as he had expected, scarred and dark-haired Aiden.

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