Failings of the Fathers: 13

"Good morning, Mommy," Todd said, bringing the tray into the bedroom, and she gently came to waking and sat up.

"What's all this?"

"Me, taking care of you, for a change."

"Thank you.  I appreciate it, so much."  She looked at the tray, relishing the idea of some breakfast.

"I got you some really good stuff."

"Sounds great."  She took a bite of fruit, and then said, "So, when are you going to tell me about what happened last night?"

"Uh, what do you mean?"

"You weren't in bed for a while.  What kind of snack would take all that long?"

"It was a big snack."

"You didn't want to upset me.  You had a dream.  Again."

"Let's not talk about that right now.  How are you feeling?"

"I'm great.  Todd, you don't have to hide from me."

"I know, I just . . . with everything from yesterday, I couldn't tell you anything that would stress you."

"I'm okay.  Really.  Now what happened."

He sat on the edge of the bed.  "Same dream, same stuff.  Momma woke up, she came and talked with me."

"I'm glad she was there for you."

"She was.  I think we needed it.  We talked about Peter.  She told me to let go."

"And?"

"I guess I should.  But it's like he's the one holding on.  I wish him gone, he shows back up.  It's always about the same thing, he wants to burn me, and take everything I've loved."

Blair had been keeping her thoughts to herself, and though she had hinted to Todd before that she felt strange about the time frame that the burn occurred, she didn't push it.  She said, "Then I guess you should."

"Can I ask you something, Blair?"

"Sure, why not?" she said, digging into her meal.

"Could . . .if this burn is from that time period. . ."

"Uhuh,"

"If someone did burn me, I mean, who would it be?"

She didn't want to answer, at first.  She wanted him to leave it behind, and just move on with their lives.  But she knew, somewhere inside her, that the burn was suspect.  It was obvious that it had been from that time.  She remembered seeing it.  The scene flashed through her mind:

"Shorty?  What are you doing up?  'Cause we took you out of that warm crib at Aunt Viki's huh?  It's warm up here, you just, try and sit still for a minute, okay?"

It was then she had appeared at the door.  He turned to her, and said, "What are you looking at?"

"You're a wonderful father.  You are."  She'd said.

He was so bitter; so far from her.  "Never thought I'd hear anyone say that to me?"

"Why not?"

"Well, look at my role models.  I mean, everybody knows Victor Lord's sterling reputation.  I don't know whether I was better off being abandoned by him or I was just lucky not to be raised by him.  And then there's warm, loveable Peter Manning, whose favorite hobby was to kick the crap out of me."

She'd sat by him.  "What a pair of fathers.  Makes me kind of happy I never knew mine.  But that's not gonna be the case for you, is it Starr?  No."  She'd said, changing her voice to suit her baby daughter.  "Todd, I'm . . . no wonder it's so hard for you to trust anyone.  Even me."  Back to Starr, she'd said, "I'm gonna go get your favorite blanket, okay?  Be right back."

She quickly had grabbed the blanket off the crib and went back, listening to him outside the bedroom door. 

"So many things to learn about you.  Your favorite blanket, your favorite food.  How to shut you up when you cry.  I mean, do you like to be rocked, or do you like the bounce?  I feel like I've gotta learn it all so quickly, you know, because you're gonna change.  And you are, you know.  I'll be there for you.  It won't be like it was with me.  I would lie down in front of a train for you.  And no matter what, no matter what you decide to do, you could be a bank robber or an accountant, and it wouldn't matter."

She moved closer to the doorway, and watched him.  He was holding Starr on her feet, as if she were standing.  He'd said, "I would never make you feel stupid or worthless or bad.  And I will never betray you, in any way.  I swear.  And then maybe you won't be so afraid.  Maybe you'll even like people.  Wouldn't that be nice, huh Squirt?"

She'd looked at him then, her heart splintering at his words, and at the same time, his brown shirt was rolled up at each sleeve, and she was positive could see the scar from the burn, on his inner forearm. . .

"Blair?  You all right, Babe?"

"Yes, I was, just remembering something.  When Starr was little, when you first met her.  Around that time."

"We've come a long way from then."

"I know we have.  But it was right after you came back, from Ireland.  You were so bitter and hurt."

"I was an asshole."

"Todd!"

"Well, I basically was.  But go ahead, what are you thinking?"

"Maybe you should consider the fact that I am pretty positive I saw that burn when you and I were at the penthouse, and you were talking to Starr about how you wanted her life to go.  Remember?"

He thought a moment.  "About the train?"

"Yes.  That one.  Your sleeve was rolled up, and I saw it, right there," she pointed to the one he had now, that was mixed in with a host of others.

"Okay.  So it was there."

"It was."  She finished off her breakfast.

"What are you saying, Blair?"

"I'm saying that . . . maybe you should investigate a little.  Maybe you could check into it?  Like, was it a wound from the shooting and the car being thrown into the ocean?"

"How would I do that?"

"I don't know, exactly.  Or something, maybe you could find someone who knew your mother and father, when you were younger, and find out more about what happened after his death."

Todd's face was filled with recognition.  "Why are you saying this, Babe?  Are you saying you think Peter did this?  He was dead.  I watched him die."

"When has that stopped anyone in your life story?"

He stopped and thought about what she said, and answered, "I'm not going there.  It was imagined, that's it.  No use in trying to resurrect the dead."

She raised an eyebrow.

"Okay, so I was dead once, too.  But, this is different."  He said. 

She folded her arms, and gave him the "really" look.

"Okay, so a bunch of people were dead and aren't.  Victor was, and came back and then there was Me.  Asa."

"You, more than once."

"Yeah, true.  He's not alive, Blair.  If he's alive, it means he could hurt you, or the kids."

"No, he can't hurt us.  We can take him.  He's an old man now, don't forget."

He kissed her nose, "I can't.  It's just . . . I can't let myself even think it.  I know it's all in my head."

"Then maybe someone out there knows who that was in your room at the clinic."

"You're stuck on this."

"Kind of.  Simply because I know you are."

"You believe me."

"Yeah."

"It was so real," he said, staring off.  "I remember it so clearly, he grabbed my arm."

"I know.  Maybe it was a replacement, or maybe a trick.  Maybe the Men of 21 started early.  Carlo?  Mitch?  He knew you, he was involved with Bitsy."

"Maybe," he didn't sound convinced.

"Why does it have to be that you're crazy?  That you imagined it?  Why couldn't it have happened to you?"

Her faith in him was surprising, and something in him warmed as he realized just how much she believed in him.  Here she was, hoping it happened so that she wouldn't have to accept he was insane, and here he was, wishing he imagined it, so that he did not have to face the next assumption:  if it happened, did that mean the someone who did it was alive somewhere?

***

Aiden was wheeled out of surgery on a gurney, with a pale green sheet covering him.  The second of his exploratory surgeries was complete.

Tina was waiting, in his room, and Timothy, as well.  Both had been there several hours, and were seated in the uncomfortable faux leather chairs often found in institutions.  She looked up from her knitting, and said, "He's back, they must have finished."

Timothy stood, as did Tina.  His limbs felt stiff and sore from the lengthy sitting.  He said, "He's alive, one good point, eh, Martina?"

"Yes, one good point."

Wheeled into the room, his gurney was brought against the bed, and locked.  Two orderlies lifted him on the count of three, and placed him effortlessly on his bed.  He didn't stir.  Tina went to the bedside, and Timothy close to her.  He reached over and touched his son's hand.  "Eric?"

There was no response, as a nurse came in.  "He'll be sleeping for several hours.  He won't come out of this fully until then.  You may as well go home."  She primped his pillows and fixed the sheets, and then connected all of the equipment to monitor him.  "It's already three in the afternoon.  You must have been here since this morning, say, over six hours?"

"We have," Timothy answered her.  His beard was slightly thickening with white stubble.  

Tina said, "When will he wake up?"

"As I said, could be several hours now.  Perhaps you should come back later, and check on him.  You know we have no visitor hour restrictions here."

Tina looked to Timothy, who said, "Is he all right, Nurse?"

"He's perfectly fine.  Came through it well."

"Thank ya," he said, and leaned over to look into his son's face.  Tina rested a hand on Timothy's back as he did so.

"He's so peaceful," she said, softly.

"He's going to get well, Dear Lady."

"Shall we go home, and come back?  Or should we wait here?"

"I don't know.  I want to be here when he wakes, as ya do as well."

"Let's just go to the cafeteria and get something to snack on, then," she said, realizing neither of them had eaten since breakfast.

"Good idea."  They walked arm in arm through the hallway, but not until both had kissed his unbandaged cheek.

As they entered the cafe, both took trays and got snacks and drinks, and brought them to a table by the window.  He said, "Zurich is somehow dull."

"I thought the same about Dublin.  No offense."

"Cities seem so gray."

"Yes."

"Ya have to eat to keep up y'ar strength, Dear One."

"I am, or at least I am trying."

"Why don't ya tell me some of those stories from y'ar adventurous past?"

"I'm . . . not in the mood, honestly."  Tina said.

"Isn't that Calvin, Malcolm and Miguel coming this way?"  He looked closer.  Aiden's friends.  "Yes, I believe it's them."

"They have the same idea we do."

"I see that," he said, as the men took a table not far from the two of them.

"Should we call Todd?"  she asked Timothy.

"Perhaps we will later, when he wakes.  He'll want to know how Eric's fairing, and we won't be able to say much to him now."

"That's true.  And you know how my brother is about these things.  He'll use that Manning intuition and try and read through it all anyway."

"He's quite the investigator, I'll say.  Some adventures he's had, and likely will.  Though some were not pleasant."

"I don't want to think about it," she said.  "At least Blair's okay this time.  He worries so much about her, since they lost their daughter."

"Yes, but another on the way."

"Thank goodness, yes."  She finished her snack and started sipping her tea.  "Those kids adore Todd."

"Amazing, considering the likes of the father who raised him."

"I know.  But they love him so much."

"He's a fortunate man in that area, he is."

"Kind of nice, two natural girls, two natural boys, and Sam."

"He loves them all so dearly, he'd give his life for any of them."

"He would.  I know that for a fact," Tina said, and she jolted a moment, as she was bumped by Calvin, getting out of his seat to go back for seconds.

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