Failings of the Fathers: 71

Jenna was at the front door when Dorian opened it.  "Yes, Jenna?"

"I'd like to see Jack, if that's all right."

Dorian pursed her lips.  "I suppose.  I'll get him."

Addie stepped forward.  "Jenna, go right up.  You know which is his room.  Just leave the door open, will you?"

"Of course, I know the rules.  I'm just here because, well, he called me.  He needs someone right now."

Addie said, "We know.  Go on ahead now."

As she walked off, Dorian closed the front door and said, "You undermined me."

"You needed it.  I had to.  You caused him to be upset.  Now he needs a friend.  Jenna's a good girl, a positive force in his life.  He needs that without his mother and father here."

She didn't answer, she just walked into the living room, and Addie followed.

Jenna turned at the top of the stairs and went to the door of what used to be Jack's room.  She knocked, and he said, "Get away."

"It's me," she said, and within seconds the door opened.  He fell into her arms and held her close to him.  She continued, "I think it's going to be okay."

"I don't want to drink," he said.  "in case you're worrying.  I promised my father.  He can't come back to me drinking.  Neither can Mom."

"That's a good thing.  And you don't have to drink.  You can talk, with me.  As long as you want."

She sat at his desk, and he sat across from her, on his bed.  "Shaun's really hurt.  Starr's all beat up.  It's because I left them."

"No, it's not.  It's because of that man, Malcolm, whatever."

"He's not Malcolm," Jack said.  No one had told him anything, but in the pit of his stomach, he knew it wasn't Malcolm Carlisle that had hurt his family.  It was someone else.  A force, a demon, someone very evil, and he thought he knew.  He said, "He's some crazy dude.  Whoever he is, he's sick."

"Then there's no possible way it's your fault, Jack Manning.  No possible way."

"I was supposed to be there.  He would have had more of us to fight off."

"It's over with.  You can't go back.  No one blames you."

"No, just me," he said, getting up and pacing, with his hands in his front pants pockets.  "Just me.  I blame me.  I was supposed to be home.  Maybe the old guy would have gotten me instead."

"You're just tormenting yourself.  You can't change a thing."

"Maybe.  Better than who my Aunt Dorian is blaming."

"Your father?"

"Yep."

"She can't blame him.  He had nothing to do with this."  Jenna sounded indignant.

"He did, in his own way.  She believes he brought the guy here, endangered us.  I don't believe that.  Whoever he sent can't be this guy.  No way."

"Then let her talk.  Your mother and father are who they are, together.  Your aunt can't change that fact, either."

"No.  But she can make his life miserable.  She's done it before.  She's one of the reasons my parents were apart when he came back from Ireland when Starr was a baby."

"That sounds like a long story.  Is it?"

"Yeah.  I just . . . don't want to be alone," he said, stopping in front of her.  She looked up at him from his desk chair.  "I don't want to drink, I don't want to think."

"All right."  She stood up, and went to the bedroom door, and to his surprise, she closed it.  Turning back to him, she took his hand and led him to the bed.  

He said, "Um, I . . ."

"Don't get any ideas.  Just lie down,"  she said.

He did.

She crawled in next to him and held him in her arms.

***

Blair was almost to her feet when Peter pulled the gun out from inside his shirt.  "Sit down, or I'll blow his head off."

She froze.  Todd was nowhere; he wasn't moving or reacting.  He's gone.  The lighter.  No.  She didn't sit down, but she didn't move, either.  Without warning, Peter went to the door and left the house.  At that point, she went to Todd, put her hand on his head and stroked his hair.  "Todd?  Todd, come on now, we need you.  Ray needs you, Todd."

He looked up at her, instantly, and seemed confused.  "What's going on?"

She sighed, and tears left her eyes.  He reached up and touched her face gently where it was bruised. "I think I . . . left for a minute.  Shit, he hurt you." Then, he became agitated.  "Where did the fucker go?"

"Outside.  I was scared I wouldn't be able to get you back."

"The lighter, he had it, right . . .?"

"I know, My Love," she said, hugging his head to her.

"I'm going to kill him, with my bare hands, you know that."

She dismissed it.  "He went out, Todd, he's going to get away, and we'll never find the baby."  She was panicking.

He got up and went to the window.  "He's not going anywhere, look."  The black Chevy was still there; Peter was making his way into the backyard instead.

"What's he doing?"  Blair asked, as she came up behind Todd and peered out the kitchen window.  He was walking across the yard with determined, long strides.

Todd knew.  "He's going to the shed.  He's probably got Ray in there.  Put him in there because . . . he wouldn't listen, maybe."

Blair was shaking so much he could feel it against his back.  Manning, come on, get it together.  She needs you and so does your son.  His numbness finally went away; it was replaced with a tingling sort of buzz in his head and limbs.  He turned to her and held her, briefly, as he continued to watch.  She said, "Let's go get him!"

"No, wait a minute," Todd said, trying to collect his thoughts.

Peter emerged from the shed with Ray in his arms.  The little boy was quiet, and Todd and Blair both knew it was from trauma or shock.  She said, "Oh my God, he has Ray.  Look at him, Todd, he's so scared!"  She was crying, and shivering, her lip crusting over from the break.

Attempting to determine which was the best course of action, Todd thought, with one arm still around Blair.  Peter was heading back to the house, but not on the route he came.  I can't shoot him while he's holding the baby.  Where's he . . .

He looked at Blair, and for a moment, he was unable to speak.  He just waited for things to register with her, when she also noticed where he was heading.  She said, "My God, he's going inside the house through the basement door.  He's . . ."

"I know.  Let's go."

"Your mother!  She's gone!"  At this, he looked at the place where Bitsy's crumpled form had been lying, and saw nothing.  "We don't have time for that.  We have to get down there," he said, taking Blair by the hand and racing to the door that lead to the basement.  It was locked, and he took his pistol and shot the lock off.  

They went down the staircase, to be there before Peter was, and made it.  It was dark, dank and musty, just as before.  Blair feared for Todd's mental well-being as they stood, once again, in the room with the white stained sink and paneled wall with the small door.

***

"Are we flying?"  Timothy had said to John.

John had closed up his office and answered, "We're not doing anything."

"Ya can't leave me out.  I just buried a son.  I'll be mincemeat if I lose the other."  John looked at the man, and their eyes locked.  "I'll do what ya say, I'm no hero.  I'm Todd's father, but not a Manning, if ya know what I mean.  My head can stay cool."

John liked the guy, and his approach.  "You'll follow my lead?"

"Yes.  I'm not Todd, I don't go off and do things half-cocked."

"If you put it that way, come on, then."

John remembered the conversation in Llanview he'd had with Timothy hours before.  Now, waiting in the airport bus depot, and just finishing his calls, John looked up to see Timothy approaching him, with a set of keys.  "I've secured a rental car."

"Good, let's go."  In situations like these, he took his time alerting authorities.  He could handle it.  He'd size up the situation and then decide if he needed help.  He went rogue when it was personal.  And this was personal.  For Blair, and he hated to admit, for Manning, too.

They got into the car, and Timothy said, "Are ya sure we don't need parts?"

"What?"

"Parts, ya know, guns."

"You mean pieces?  I've got one."

"What about me?"

"You don't go off half-cocked, remember?"

"Ah, yes.  I do recall that."

"Okay then.  You won't need one.  Things will be all right."

"Okay." Timothy looked out the window, as they pulled off.  He didn't care much for Chicago.  Everything seemed gray.  He didn't like the feel of it, and he didn't like what had happened to his son and Bitsy there.  He tried Todd again, on his cell phone, and got no answer.

"No answer?"  John asked.

"No."

"I'm sorry about your son, Aiden."

"I know, as am I.  This may not make sense to ya, but from this old Irish heart, I'm relieved that I was there when he was born, and this time, when he died."

John, swallowed, and at the next light, stopped and handed Timothy a pistol.  "Here, just in case."

***

"I should have killed him when I had the chance," Todd said.  The dampness of the basement chilled him, but he shook it off.

She said, "You couldn't.  You didn't know where he had the baby."  

She understands how I think.

"I wasn't talking about today.  I knew he had a gun," he said.  "Starr told me.  I . . . didn't want him to shoot me, and have his way with you and Momma . . . and Ray.  I was talking about . . . when I was fourteen."

"Don't go there, Todd, just, don't."

The cellar doors opened, and the light pouring in from outside, though dim, made them squint.  Peter stood at the top of the cellar steps, silhouetted, Ray dangling from under his arm.  "Just moving him to a safer place," Peter said, with caustic sarcasm.

Todd said, "Put him down, and we can talk about whatever you want."

"Nothing to talk about," the man said, walking toward them into the room.  The outside light wasn't doing much to help them see; so he reached up and pulled a ratty curtain back from a small window.

Blair could see her son's eyes adjusting to the small amount of light, and she tried to gain composure and fix her face, so he would not be as frightened.  She smiled, "Hi Baby Boy," she said.

"Mommy.  Daddy.  He's bad."

Todd swallowed, hearing his son say the words he knew to be simple but true.  He's a bad man.  Understated.  Simple.  It rocked him, to his core.  He pushed to the back of his mind how Ray may have determined that fact.  

Blair said, "Ray, are you all right?  Did he hurt you?"

Peter had Ray tucked under one arm, and clearly, his grip was tight.  "Shut that bitch up."  He continued, "You want to talk?  Talk about what?"

"Whatever you want.  Just put him down.  Better yet, let Blair have him, and she can go.  Right?  It's just really about you and me, isn't it?"

Todd was surprised when his father laughed, and said, "No.  It's not.  It's about me.  Period.  What you want isn't in the equation."

Todd and Blair still were standing where they started, in the center of the room, the staircase behind them.  Todd so wanted Blair to leave, but he knew she'd never go without her son.  He feared what Peter had planned next, and knew she was not off-limits to the man.  He'd seen his handiwork for years.  He said, "All right.  Then, you call the shots."

Sweat was dripping off Peter's brow, and Todd realized the whole event was physically taxing the older man more than he let on.  With the heart problems and his age, holding 35 pounds of kicking, squirming human had to be straining him.  But he didn't let on.  "I do call them.  That's the whole point.  That's how it was then, eh, 'Boomer?'" he sneered, mocking The Coach's name for him.

"Yeah, that's how it's always been."  Todd agreed.  He just wanted an opening.  A second where he could grab the baby, hand him off to Blair, and shout at her to run.  He had the car keys, she didn't.  He went into his pocket, indiscriminately, and fumbled for them.  Being from a rental car company, there was only one key on the ring, no jingling conglomerate of house and other keys.  He took them into his palm, and as Peter backed up toward the secret room door looking to his feet as not to trip on something, Todd found her hand and gave them to her.  Her only response was a soft, barely audible, "No."

Peter didn't even notice.  The strain was wearing on him.  "And it always will be that way," he added.  Ray started to cry.  "Shut up, kid."

Blair almost broke free of her husband's grip on her hand and lunged at Peter, but Todd pulled her back.  She sobbed a few times, and Ray cried harder.  Her heart was pounding in her chest, and Todd could feel her pulse beating in her hand.  Gotta stop this, now.  Gotta get them out.  "Seems we agree on that, at least.  So, what do you want?"  Todd said.  It was a fight like he never fought to contain his rage.

"To have you suffer and crumble right in front of me.  You spent your whole life fighting me."  Peter said.

He has no idea how right he is.

Peter continued.  "Different ways.  You were always rebellious against me.  You always stopped yourself from crying when you should cry.  You kept yourself from yelling out when you should have.  You had to show me you wouldn't break.  You always had to have the last word, without even speaking."

Blair leaned over and heaved.  She let go of Todd's hand again, and he could feel the key was no longer in it.  She'd taken it, and now, she was throwing up the day's nourishment onto the floor.

Peter laughed.  "I guess that was too much information for her."

"Listen, time's wasting.  It's getting dark, you'll be able to get really far from here overnight.  You've got that car, you can have the money, whatever you want.  You want the last word?  You've got it."

"I want more than that," he said.

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