Failings of the Fathers: 18

He raced to the door of the bedroom, and stopped short.  His mother and Blair were on the bed together, looking at catalogs, many of which were spread out around them.  Bitsy had her head on Blair's shoulder, and Blair was beaming, her roundness reminding him of Jewel's earlier-than-planned probable entrance.  They both looked up. 

Blair said, "What is it, Todd?  You look upset."

Both women stared in his direction.  He said, "I, uh, wanted to . . . tell you both that dinner's on."

"Todd, you yelled that up to us about twenty minutes ago.  If that didn't tell us, the smell sure would."

"Right."

"I think he's jealous, Momma, that he's left out of the shopping," Blair said.

Her mother-in-law smiled, and put out her hand to beckon him.

"I would love to, but I really should get ready to receive the boys.  They'll be home soon.  What about Road Runner?"

"He's asleep."  Blair said, nonchalantly looking back to her magazine.

He couldn't tell her.  Blair would get upset, she might cry, upset herself, go into labor even earlier . . . the baby. We can't lose her.  We can't lose another child. . .

"Okay, well, I'm going to wait for the boys in the family room, then.  I'll get them hot cocoa or something when they come in."

"Todd, are you all right, My Love?"  she asked.

Bitsy seemed frozen in deep study of him.

"I'm great.  I'm going to be a father again, I have you, I have Momma.  What could be wrong?"

"Nothing, I guess.  Oh, by the way, who was that downstairs?"

He stopped outside the door.  "Sister Rebecca Katherine."

"She was here, and didn't say hi to us?"

"She. . . had to go.  Said she was needed at Mountainview, I offered for her to stay and eat with us."

"What did she want, then?"

"She wanted to tell me about Aiden.  Timothy said Aiden's done with his second surgery."

"That's good.  You'll call later, right?"

Timothy.  

"Yeah, I'll call later."  I'm scared to tell her.  I need her, but . . . Jewel.

"Good, be sure to tell him I asked for him and Aiden."  Blair said.

He walked to The Sun home office, and sat at his desk.  He folded his hands, and put them on top.  You are worthless.  He brushed hair the back from his eyes.  His hair was getting a little long on the sides and back.  He pushed it off his forehead.  Peter always hated his hair.  Called him names.  You pansy.  A little girl, that's what you are.

He dialed.  "Dad?" As much as he tried, his voice shook.

"Todd?  What in the world is wrong?"

"I . . . don't . . ." he couldn't.

"It's after midnight, here, Son.  What is it?  Is Bridgette all right?"

"She's fine, she's . . . she's okay."

"Y'ar upset.  What is it?"

"I . . .I'm having trouble saying it.  Everyone's all right."

"That's certainly a relief, Boy."

"Old Man, I'm . . . losing touch."

"With what, Son?"

"Reality.  Can . . . I don't know how to feel."

"Just feel how ya feel and don't worry about supposed to's."

"Hang on," he said, getting up to close the door.  "I'm back.  I'm a mess."

"See y'ar therapist?"

"He's . . . not going to be able to help with this one."

"So ya called me."

"Yeah.  Can't tell Blair, not now."

"It sounds like y'ar torn up.  Go ahead and unburden y'aself.  I told ya to do so."

He decided to just say it.  "Could my father be alive?" As soon as the words left his mouth, he felt foolish.

Timothy swallowed.  He wanted to proceed cautiously, but had been dealing with the same query all day, since his sister had called.  "Go on."

"You're not acting surprised."

"No.  I can't lie and say that I am.  Y'ar aunt called me, she had a nightmare."

"I know.  She told me."

"What can I do?"

"How would I start, looking for him, I mean?"

"I don't know.  Let me analyze the legalities of these accounts.  Possibly something there.  Who was the last person, aside from ya, to see him alive?"

"The nurses?"

"Other than them."

"Connie, his girlfriend, or fiance.  The last one.  He had a lot of them.  If they didn't do what he wanted, he usually dumped them.  Of course, I don't know what he really did with them. . ."  his voice trailed off.

"Now, now.  Let's stay in the present, Boy.  It was Connie, what was her last name?"

"I don't remember."

"The lawyer, that handled your father's estate?"

"I remember him.  His name was Adams.  Chicago.  Connie had my father cremated without asking me.  That was that."  He could tell that Timothy was writing.

"I'll investigate this.  I'll do it first thing in the morning.  It's past five there, won't do me any good now."

"Thanks, Dad.  What about Aiden?"

"He's all right.  Struggling.  He said he wanted ya to help him, something about the memory loss.  He feels ya would know about it more than most."

"Hmf.  He's right, probably."

"Let's do one thing at a time.  Give me time on this, Son."

"I will."

"And don't let it consume ya.  Please.  Ya must try and move on.  It's the only way fair to y'ar children and y'ar woman."

He swallowed.  "How did you get so smart?"

"Experience.  I love ya.  Call ya later."  He hung up.

Todd held the phone for a moment, then put it down.  "I . . .love you, too, Old Man."

"Hey, Squirt, wait," he heard Jack say, "get back here with my earbuds."

Todd smiled, "They're home."  He followed the staircase and went to his sons.  Upon seeing them, fighting over the earbuds in the foyer, he grabbed them both, and hugged them.  "You guys are so late, all those after school things.  It's already dark!"

Jack, stunned, said nothing, and patted his father's back, and Sam, hugging back tightly, said, "Dad, you're squeezing me!"

"Sorry, Buddy, I just missed you today."

Jack caught his father's eyes, and said, "What's wrong?  Where's Mom?"

"She's upstairs with Grandma Bitsy.  Baby stuff."

"Again?  She looks at those books all the time," Sam said.

"Gives us man time," Todd said, avoiding Jack's gaze.  "Don't take your coats off."

"Dad, it's like dark."  Jack said.  "We went to see Addie and Aunt Dorian, remember?  Mom said to."

"I know, it's dark, but I have stadium lighting, and you guys know that."

"By the way, Dad, what's that smell?"  Sam asked.

"Don't tell me you don't know?"  he said, teasingly.

"Smells like Sister Becca Thrin's food."

"That's what it is.  I made it.  Now while it cooks, let's go outside and do man stuff."  He said, grabbing his coat.

"What man stuff?"  Sam said.

"Well, we're not going mushrooming or anything, grab that football from in the chest in the family room." Todd said.

Sam obliged, and Jack opened the back door.  The three of them went outside, after Todd snapped on the stadium-style lights.  The backyard was like daylight, and Both Bitsy and Blair looked up when it came on.  Bitsy was excited, and got off the bed and went to the glass doors.  She smiled, and Blair got up and carefully followed.  Blair said, "He's so good with them."

Bitsy took her notepad and wrote to Blair:  Does he teach them?  He used to play football when he was little.  Peter forced him.

"He played in college, too.  He was outstanding."

Does he yell at them?  Does he tell them bad things?

"No.  He never does that, ever.  Even when they're bad.  He always shows them love, even when he has to be stern with them.  But when he's doing this, he is always patient and loving."

She saw the older woman's eyes filling with water.  He has learned to love.  Blair, I think he learned that from you.

Blair was overcome with feelings, and put her arm around her mother-in-law.  "He learned it from you, too.  He was my very best and only friend, once.  Did you know that?"

Bitsy shook her head.

"It's true.  We were each others' lifelines.  No one else liked us in town."

Why not?  I mean, I know about Todd's past, but you?

"I wasn't the best kind of person then.  I made a lot of mistakes.  We were both pretty . . . pathetic."

Made for each other then.

She smiled.  "Yes, I guess we are."

Look how he plays with them.  I can tell you, that nothing he's doing was ever done for him.  I was there.  Nothing.

"My God, what it must have been like," Blair said,  longing to hold her husband to her heart.

You can't imagine.  I know he has told you, so much of it.  It was a very bad thing.

"For both of you.  If you ever want to talk to me about it.  Or write to me about it . . ."

It was bad.  Just bad.  I don't know what I would say.  Think of the worst things a person can do to someone else.  That's all.

Blair thought her heart would shatter, but she took the woman's hand, and held it.  She said, directly into her eyes, "No more. Never again.  You won't have to worry.  You're with us now."

Bitsy smiled, and turned back to Todd and the boys playing football after dark in the yard.

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