Failings of the Fathers: 64

Blair got up, and began to pace wildly, "No, no, not this, please, no.  He has my baby!"

Bitsy was also up out of her chair, and grabbed Blair by both arms, and steadied her.  She made Blair watch her write something and handed her the paper:  It's him.  He's alive, as I thought and dreamed.  Where's Todd?

"He ran off to find him.  To find our baby.  I'm so scared," Blair said, starting to cry.

Bitsy sprung into action, as a mother should, and took Blair into her arms.  Then, she wrote:  No, it will be all right.  I know where he is.  Take me with you, Blair.  Please.  I know where Peter has Ray.

"No, I can't.  It's dangerous, and you . . . you have to stay here, and get well."

I didn't help Todd before.  I want to help him now.  I know where Peter is.  I can take you there.

"Is it the same place I think?  That house, in Chicago?"

Yes.  I didn't know you knew about that.  That very horrible place.  I know I can do something.  Show myself to Peter, somehow help my son.  Please, Blair, you understand.  You can't bear the thought of Peter having your baby.  But neither can I, even though he is a man.  Please?

Blair began to think wildly.  Her heart was breaking.  The one thing she knew Bitsy could not get over was never saving Todd when he was a child.  Was it wrong to give her that opportunity now?

She looked back to her mother-in-law's face.  It was streaked with tears, but filled with more determination and fire than she had ever seen it.  "Oh, come on!" she called out, and grabbed the woman's hand.  Bitsy wriggled away long enough to get her coat, and the two women quietly made their way to the top of the staircase.

"Dr. Ray is on his way," Blair whispered.

Bitsy shook her head "no," vehemently.  

Blair said, "He won't let you go, will he?"

She shook her head again.

"Damn it!  Let's walk, really slowly.  Like we're meant to be there.  Maybe they won't notice us."

Bitsy shrugged first and nodded in agreement second.

"Momma, I just have to say, I'm glad you're back."

She beamed.

They began walking, very slowly toward the top of the staircase.  "Now, we're just going to act natural like we're supposed to be leaving."

She nodded.

They both started descending the stairs as if they had nothing to hide, and when they got to the bottom, miraculously, the guard was facing the other direction.  They hurriedly walked, without making undue noise, right to the door of Mountainview.  Blair nonchalantly opened it, and there was Ray Martino, standing in its archway.

***


He pulled up in his black Chevy and parked it in the driveway.  Everything was quiet.  The house seemed dark, and there was almost no way to tell if there was life inside or not.

The little boy was in the back seat.  It was morning, and they'd been driving a long time.  The toddler was sleeping, under the blanket he'd arranged for him, and he stood a moment, marveling at his face.  "Hmf.  Where have I seen that mug before?"

He lifted the baby out of the back seat and carried him, over his shoulder while trying to shut the door to the car at the same time.  The child did not wake; in fact, he was out like a light as he usually was when asleep.  The Man went to the side door and opened it, venturing inside the dark home, before taking his lighter from his pocket to light the way in the early morning dark.

The sun was not even coming up at that point, and it would barely be making itself known for at least a couple of hours.  He was tired.  The kid was asleep, and he wondered if he could catch some.  He placed the child on the couch, and covered him with the blanket, and then sat, feet up, head back, next to him, in case he woke.  He couldn't have him running away or going off into the streets, and there was no way to tell if he knew how to open doors, or what he could get into.  The question was, where was she?  He'd told her, specifically, to be there when he got in town, so she could watch the kid.  He closed his eyes, hoping the three-year-old wouldn't wake up before he was able to rest.  It had been a long drive.

In trying to rest and recharge, his mind continued to race.  He knew the plan, and what was next, but still, he went over and over it.  It had to be just right.  It would serve Todd right, after all, to lose his fortune.  He'd gone to such pains to hide everything.  He faked his death, so he could reap the benefits of the Lord fortune anonymously.  He knew Todd would never share it with him, because Peter was certain that when his "son's" therapy continued, he would be made to remember.  And, Peter wasn't going to go to jail for the rape and murder of Bitsy, who totally deserved everything she got, nor for the alleged abuse Todd supposedly suffered at his hands.  Discipline.

Todd was a difficult child.  From the age of three, he didn't follow directions.  He wanted to do girl things, like plant flowers and draw.  He didn't listen to the rules, and he needed discipline.  Peter felt strongly about giving discipline when it was warranted, and Todd always needed more.  He had, by some opinions, doled out more than necessary, but it did the trick until the teen was fourteen, and almost killed him.  He had told himself to find a way to keep the bastard in line, and finally, after years of it, the kid turned on him.  

Now wanting any of the accusations revealed in the media, or in court, he had developed a plan to continue to siphon money off Todd's fortune as the Lord Heir, and disappear.  Aside from the fact that he had a terrible heart condition, he was able to carry it off, and live abroad, very comfortably.  He even had heart surgery, twice.  And, his steadfast companion was by his side throughout it all and had reaped the benefits as well.  And, when Todd disappeared in 1995, he thought it would be a perfect time for him to stay dead as well, so Peter could continue to get funds.  His plan then: drive him to insanity and see him put away forever while keeping the money coming into his private Swiss blind trust.

Instead, Todd's memory was wiped clean, somehow, in his treatment at the clinic.  Oh yeah, it was after I burned the shit out of him and he flipped out.  Worked like a charm.  Until later . . .  Peter had been fortunate that Todd seemingly forgot everything he'd experienced in his youth.  Peter had tracked him, after reading about his disappearance in Ireland.  Tracked him, found him, tormented him and used him to get the things he wanted.  And the wealth was abundant.

It was pure coincidence, Peter realized, that Todd had come back from the "dead" in 2011, just as he himself was back into the clinic for a second, updated transplant.  Pure coincidence that he ended up back in the clinic recovering from the series of surgeries, and living there long enough for Todd to end up making the trip back, and actually spotting him in the lobby.  But, as luck would have it, the pansy thought he was hallucinating, and it worked perfectly to Peter's advantage.  If it were not for the interference of that Irish bastard, Timothy, his money would have never dried up.  And that was part of what angered him most.  That and Todd being a hero, to his family, and to people in Europe; Todd being a folkloric figure in Ireland; Todd having Blair, and millions of dollars, and children and freedom.  Todd having everything he didn't, and more.

He started to doze.  Where is she?  She knows how important punctuality is to me! 

That was when the sound of an opening door snapped him to alertness, and he saw her standing there.  "I suppose you have a reason for sitting in the complete dark?" she asked, and turned on a small side lamp.

Connie Bensonhurst put her hand on her hip and leaned down to kiss him.

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Your comments are 'payment' for the work of the authors. Our writers like to hear your feedback. Please leave a comment when you read.