Failings of the Fathers: 50

Shaun headed into the yard and spotted Malcolm, digging out the edges of the garden that he was planning.  The man seemed into what he was doing, to the point he hardly noticed Shaun coming.

Shaun stopped just a few feet away and said, "Hey, Malcolm?  I wanted to introduce myself.  I'm Shaun, head of security for The Mannings."

Malcolm stood, leaning on the shovel, and Shaun extended his hand.  He said, "I'd shake, but my hands are really filthy from all this garden work."

Shaun nodded.  "Nice to meet you.  You're, uh, working up quite a situation here.  Deciding on a garden plot?"

"Yes, I've decided to create the vegetable garden here.  Mrs. Manning instructed me to consider the best place.  This has the type of sunlight that would work best, unlike the side of the house, where the snow pile is.  Too much shade."

Shaun watched the man, carefully.  He didn't seem "weird," and he felt he would have to question Sam later to determine the origin of that statement.  He said, "Seems right.  The Mannings are very special to me.  I've been with them many years.  From before Mr. Manning's return."

"Return from where?"  Malcolm said.

"Captivity.  He was held by a terrorist group for eight years."

"Ah, of course.  He mentioned something about that."

Shaun squinted slightly, and attempted to size the man up.  He appeared to be a regular Joe, was working hard, didn't strike him as anything unusual.  But his expression, at times, lapsed into something he was not sure he could read.  He continued, "Yeah, sad about his brother though."

"Yes.  His brother is a friend of mine, back in Swiggerland, as Sam says."

"Sam, I see you've met.  Quite an interesting kid."

"Is he the one who's not their real child?"

Shaun thought about the question, and watched the man's eyes.  Suddenly, he didn't like what he saw.  "Yeah, he's the one.   I trust you understand where I am coming from.  I'm very protective of them, so if I seem a little, I don't know, curious, it has to do with that fact."

"There's nothing to know, really.  I'm an open book, Shaun.  I'm here to do my job, and that's that.  Aside from this, I don't see how my personal life and information reflects on anything here.  You may be close to the children and the family, but I'm a simple worker."  He went back to shoveling.

Shaun watched a moment and realized he had his hands full with Mr. Malcolm Carlisle.

He headed back to the house, just in time to see Blair, turning on the computer to set up talking time with Todd.  He said, "Okay, that was more than interesting."

"What, Malcolm?"  Blair said, setting up the screen.

"Yeah.  I'm . . . inclined to side with Sam on this."  Shaun said.

"What do you mean?"

"He's weird, according to your second son."

"I don't understand, though, he's been through a lot.  Todd has conveyed a lot of Malcolm's past to me.  It makes sense he would seem awkward around us.  He lost everything."

"I guess you're right," he said,  "Maybe it's the medication.  But I know you'll understand why I am going to spend more time around him."

"I think that's fine.  Perhaps he can use a friend."  Blair said.

Shaun didn't think he would ever consider the man a friend, but he had been wrong before, on rare occasions.  Nevertheless, Todd paid him to keep his family safe, and that was his ultimate plan.

***

"Hey, Babe.  You look beautiful,"  Todd said.  It was one of the things she loved about the changes in him since he returned; he was more open and able to accept and give love.  She loved how verbal he had become.

"Thank you, my husband, and I love you," she said.  "So, Aiden?"

"The same."

"Oh, no.  That's not good."

***

Outside, the Manning's new gardener was finishing up with edging the new garden, and the sun was warming his skin through his work clothes and jacket.  He looked up, surveying the house.  Todd Manning had made quite a life for himself and his wife.  He had made a family.

The man went back toward the shed to deposit his tools, before heading to the cottage at the far side of the property.

***

"I'm going to see your mother," she added, and she could see how tired he was in his face.  He looked as though he had not slept, and she knew how tough it was, at times, for him to do so without her.  

"That's good.  When is that?"

"Maybe in a day or two.  I wanted the kids to babysit, together, since Shaun seems to have taken on this security job you've given him with a particular sudden seriousness."

"He'd better be serious, but what's that about?"

"He's just sensitive to something Sam said.  Seems Malcolm struck both Sam and Shaun as 'weird.'  I can't place it, but, of course, I understand more about his story than they do.  To me, he seems just as you said, maybe just a bit more mature than you let on."

"Why is he weird?"

"I don't know.  I guess he rubs them the wrong way."

"That's kind of weird, itself, Blair.  The guy's just trying to make his way.  Besides, maybe it's the drugs.  Oh, and by the way, tell the guy to answer his phone will ya?  His old friend Miguel's been trying to call him."

***

Malcolm made his way to his cottage, and opened the door.  He flung it open carelessly, and then caught the knob, stopping the door from slamming.  Inside, he made his way to the kitchen, and opening the refrigerator, he searched for something to eat.  The whole thing was stocked, not with necessarily his favorites, but with a good start.  He fished out some eggs, cheese and butter, and began to cook them in a cast iron pan that was left there for his use.

"Hmf, pretty nice.  My own little place, and access to everything I need."

***

"I'll tell him.  I'd rather go to see Momma tonight, but not sure the kids are available.  I think it's good for them to spend time as a family.  I want Starr to come, and then she and Jack can manage the kids for a while."

"That sounds like a good idea.  Responsibility, and family time.  Why not?"

"No reason, that's why it's going to happen.  In fact, when I get off the phone with you, I'm going to call Starr and see when she's available to come and help out."

"I'm sure Shaun could do it?"

"Well, he seems bent on other things, plus I really feel it's good for the kids to do this once in a while."

"Not a bad idea."

"Todd, you seem so tired.  Are you sleeping?"

"No, I'm wide awake, can't you see me?"

"I mean at night, are you sleeping at night?"

"I know, and no."

"Can I help?"

"Not unless you're going to drop everything and come out here and sing me to sleep."

***

The eggs tasted particularly good, and he'd made a slice of toast to accompany his small omelet.  Looking around the cottage, he realized that it was warmly furnished, complete with a small fireplace.  He went to it, picked up a few logs and threw them in.  He made a note to himself that more wood had to be gotten or cut, and then looked for something to light it with.  The day's Sunday paper was in the cottage, perfectly laid out, and he smiled.  "That will do," he said aloud.

***

Blair said, "I'm hoping things get better with Aiden, Todd."

"Me, too."

"And don't worry about us, everything's cool."

"I know.  You're lucky, you're all together and I'm out here, alone."

"Not for long.  Just think of it that way."

"I guess.  So, shall we say goodnight?  Or for you, good afternoon?"

"Okay.  If you can't sleep tonight, just call me.  I'll be here, especially after 6 my time, if I go and see Momma, I'd be back by then."

"All right.  I love you, and I miss our life."

"Our life's not gone, Todd, it's just on vacation."

"Well, I miss it.  I can't wait to see you again, in person."

"Same here.  I love you, so much."

"Night."

***

In the groundskeeper's cottage, two able hands folded the paper into a cylinder, and looked around for matches.  "None.  Too many kids around for that."

He went into his room, which was a small area off the main room.  Perfectly cozy, if you liked that sort of thing.  Opening his suitcase, he put a few things on the bed, and a few inside the dresser drawers, before taking his lighter out of the side pocket.  Shining it, absentmindedly on his pants, he returned to the main room and used it to light the paper before tossing it into the firebox.  He watched the flames lick up possessively over the newsprint.  He said, "There we go," aloud, and flicked the lighter a few times.

Just then, he heard a familiar ring.  That phone.  It rang too often.  He retrieved it from his back pocket and looked at it.  Staring onto the display screen, he made no effort to answer, as the name flashed, "Miguel."  Instead, he frowned and said, "Fucking loser," and tossed the phone onto the table in front of him.

He sat back and reviewed the events of the day.  It had been easier than he thought when he'd run into his not-so-old old friend at the airport in Zurich.  In fact, the guy hadn't put up much of a fight before he'd taken a custodial broom to him, and beat him until he stopped moving.  It was simpler than he thought, and he remembered with a smile how he'd carefully moved him into a closet off the men's room, and jammed the lock with a broken toothpick.  He'd learned that somewhere, years back.  

He sighed, feeling as though he'd completed quite a task, and had to admit he was very satisfied with himself.  "Now, for the rest of it."  

He flicked his lighter to the end of his cigarillo and puffed.

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