Hope from the Ocean: 54

"I'm going to talk to Blair about this.  She's going to have some trouble with it, I'm fairly certain."  Todd said, standing.  Aiden was taking the next photo album off the table.

"I understand.  If she doesn't want ya to go, I'll be able to manage.  Possibly, I can get someone else to go with me."

"Let me talk to her first before we jump to conclusions."  He left the room, and Aiden continued to look through the photo album.  The one he was holding was dedicated to Jack.  The baby was beautiful, with Todd and Blair, at his christening, in a white gown.  Aiden smiled to himself.

Turning the pages, he viewed the times of Jack's life, and closed it with a grin.  Finally, he took the one that had Spiderman on the front.  "Sam," he read off the cover, and opening it, he browsed through.  Turning to the last few sleeves, he saw the little, bespectacled boy smiling from the pages, and he closed his eyes, trying to see himself at the same age.

The album crashed to the floor as a searing pain cut through the side of his head, so powerful it took his breath from him and forced him to collapse onto the sofa and onto the floor.  Gasping to get his breath back, and fight for consciousness, he grabbed onto the edge of the coffee table, and attempted to pull himself to sitting.  Unable to do so, he flopped back onto the floor, wincing in pain, trying to bring breath into his lungs, when he heard a sound.  Hoping desperately that whoever it was would find him, he attempted a second time to grasp the table, and ended up to pull it in such a way that items on top crashed to the floor.

When he opened his eyes again, Tina was looking into his face, and calling his name.  It was the same as usual; at first, the mouth of the person would appear to be moving in absolute silence, and then, after a few moments, the voice would kick in.  Finally, he heard her.  "Aiden, are you all right?"

"Little Tina.  Can't say I'm in the best form right now, eh?"

"What happened to you?"  she said, running her hand along his face.

"I was . . . trying to remember something.  The pictures of Sam, they . . . I don't know."

"Can you sit up?"

"I'm not sure.  It knocked the wind out of me.  Ya might have to help me."

Tina, without hesitation, pulled at his arm, while pushing with her other hand on his back.  After some work, she was able to get him to a sitting position, and he leaned against her shoulder, weakly.  "Thank ya," he said softly.  "How am I supposed to win the hand of a lovely lady like y'arself, if we keep meeting like this?"

She smiled, and ran her hand over his head.  "Don't talk about things like that, just rest.  Let whatever it is pass.  There, now.  Just . . . let it be."

He closed his eyes, and she felt him lean closer to her, relaxing.  

She reached in her pocket, and taking out her cell phone, dialed.  "Dorian, can you come to the house please?"

***

"Blair?"  Todd bellowed, in his typical way.  She poked her head out of Ray's room.  

"Todd, come here, it's the funniest thing!"

"What?" he said, rounding the corner.  Ray was under the crib, his feet sticking out of one side, and that was all they could see.  "Wow, he's trying to hide from us already?  He knows the Mannings, all right."

"Oh, Todd, stop."  She said.

Todd crouched down, and taking hold of the baby's ankles, gently pulled him out from under the crib.  His terrycloth onesie made him slide easily, and he belly-laughed.  Blair, folding her arms, also smiled, and watched.  Todd said, "You sneaky little guy."  He turned the little boy toward him and kissed his cheek.  Handing him to Blair, he got up off the floor.

She said, "You were calling me?  What is it?"

"I have to talk to you, Blair."

"This sounds like something I'm not going to like."

"It's about Aiden.  He wants my help."

"You should help him, Todd.  He's . . . pitiful.  You know how I feel about that."

"I know.  Me, too.  He's stuck.  Like I was, I think.  I want to help.  He wants me to go with him back to where he grew up."

"Oh, that sounds like a decent idea.  It might help."

"Yeah, that's what I thought.  We found out something.  Aiden has seen me before, and I have seen him before also.  He used to work at the Wild Swan . . ."

"Stop right there, Todd Manning.  Where exactly does Aiden come from, Mister?"

"Um, well, don't you want to hear the rest of the story?"

"Um, no, I don't,"  she said, sing-song-voiced, folding her arms again after putting Ray into the crib.

"Well, it's . . . come on Blair, don't give me a hard time on this.  The Men of 21 are dead and gone.  John got them."

"You almost died there.  What do you want me to do?"

He looked at her, and moved closer.  Taking his hands to open her arms off her chest, he put them around his waist, one at a time.  "I want you to trust me, to love me and to let me do this for Aiden."

She softened.  "Can I go with you?"

"Maybe.  I don't see why not."

She relaxed into his arms.  "Okay.  Maybe, it's all right then."

"I don't want you worrying.  Nothing will happen to me."

"Promise?"

"Yeah.  I promise.  I was this close to death, a lot of times, and here I am.  You think a visit to the old isle of darkness is going to hurt me?  We're going back to his parents' house.  How dangerous could that be?"

***

"Broham, I did as ya asked me," Sister Rebecca Katherine said, walking into Dorian's guest wing, and sitting on the couch.  "Where's ya girlfriend?"

"She's at the house, supposedly rescuing the lad who collapsed again."  Timothy said.

"Ah, Aiden.  That's what I'm here about."

"What did ya think?  When ya met him?"

"Aside from the fact that he is a dear boy, something in his eyes remind me of someone."

Timothy sat across from her.  "So, I was not imagining it."

"Ya weren't.  Not that it means much.  I can't exactly think of what it is."

"I thought I was seeing things.  I am glad ya saw it, too.  I'm relieved.  The thing is, there's more."

"What are ya thinking, Brother?"

"Could he be a relative?  Could Johnny have had a son, and we didn't know.  Or he didn't even know?"  Timothy pondered. 

"I don't think so.  He just shows up, in our lives this way?"  she seemed frustrated by the suggestion.

"Creena, why are ya carrying on that way about this?  So closed to the idea?  The possibility."

"I . . . can't explain.  It's . . ." her voice trailed off.

Timothy put his hand on her arm.  "Ya had a feeling.  One of your knowings.  When ya were with him, ya had one."

The nun looked to her hands.  "I don't know, Timothy.  I don't know what it was, but yes, something happened when I met the lad.  I recognized something about him, somehow, but I'm not sure what it means."

"I knew it!"  he said, jumping up.  "I knew I was not batty, in the least.  There's something there.  Perhaps he's related to us, to the Brodericks?"

"Stop, Timothy, now.  We don't know.  Ya have to reel it in before ya get too swept away.  If ya don't, then, when it turns out to be nothing, or worse, something we were not expecting, ya will be deflated."

"Pray on it, Sister."

She wrinkled her brow.  "Pray on it?  Are ya suggesting that prayer has power, Broham?"

"Perhaps.  With everything that's gone on in the past few years, me thinks it's about time I ought to at least consider it."

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