Failings of the Fathers: 78

"Come on, buckle in," Todd said, putting a safety belt on his son.

"Daddy, buckle the belt?  We're fwying."

"Yeah, we're flying.  We're going to take off in the air.  See the wing?"

The little boy looked out the window, his light brown curls tied back, the way Todd used to tie his, in a low-hanging ponytail.  He realized his own hair was getting longer, and he wasn't sure which way to go with it.  Ray said, "Wing!  Is that a wing, Daddy?"

"Yeah.  That's it."

"Mommy said we see clouds."

"Yep."

"Can I jump on clouds, Daddy?"

"No, Buddy.  Only in here," he said, pointing to the little boy's head.  He rumpled his hair.

Sitting in his own seat, near Blair, he put an arm around her.  "We're on our way out of this Godforsaken place."

"Yes.  Are you all right, Todd?"

"Me?  I've got my One True Babe with me, and my son is alive and okay.  My kids are home, waiting.  What could be not all right?"

Timothy was sitting by Ray, and said, "Now, see when we take off, the ground will look far away."

"Far away?"

"Yes, Lad.  The ground will look far away, and the sky will look close."

"But the sky is up there!"  The little boy said.

"Yes.  And we will be up there, too."

"Like birdies?"

"Like birdies," he agreed, palming the little one's head.  His heart felt a pang of loss, and at the same time, fortune.

John was in another seat, apart from the others.  Bitsy was immobile, in a seat next to him.  For a private jet, there was a great deal of room.  He was on his phone, finishing calls before lift off.  He wanted Natalie to know he was making his way home.

In the corner of his eye, he spied Todd and Blair, looking at each other in a way he knew was uncommon and resonant.  She was smiling, and he moved in to kiss her.  

That's a sight for very sore eyes.  

"I'll be home soon.  He's fine, everyone's fine.  Love you, and Liam," he said, with a pressing urge to kiss and hug his son.

It had been a long day.

***

"I know it's getting late, but I think we need to make an exception, eh?"  the nun asked, as the boys were heading upstairs for bedtime.  "Someone's on their way home and expecting to see ya!"

"Mom and Dad!"  Sam called out.

"Yes, Little Muffin, y'ar parents.  They're on their way."

"Did they say . . . is . . ."  Jack wasn't sure how to ask.

"Little Ray and Grandpa Timothy are coming, too!"  she announced.

"Yay!"  Sam ran around her.  "Yay, yay, yay!"

"Oh, Sam, slow down, y'ar making me seasick, ay?"

"Sorry!" he said, plopping on the couch.

Dorian came into the room, just as the nun was finishing her announcement.  "Did you say they are on their way back?"

"Yes.  It's a bright day in the fields, I'd say."

"I suppose, yes."

"Timothy, Ray, Todd and Blair, on their way back."

"Timothy?"

"Yes.  He's been back here and gone once already, but on his way home as well."

"Ah, I see."

"So, what would ya like to do, children, to welcome them?"  the nun asked.

"Make a poster?"  Sam said.

"That sounds fine, Sam.  Run and get some paper from the art supplies and some things to draw and color with."

"What about Grandma Bitsy?"  Sam suddenly asked.

"She's on her way, as well.  She's going back to Mountainview for a while."

"Okay," he said, running off.

Jack said, "So, Sister, what really happened?"

She sighed, and waited until Sam was out of earshot.  "Y'ar father was shot.  He's all right, just a shoulder wound.  Y'ar Mam was punched in the face, but she's also all right.  The Wee One is fine, not a hair touched on his head."

"And?  I know there's more.  I'm not a kid, really."

She knew he was right.  In front of her eyes, he had gone from an angry, screwed-up teen to a young man, approaching adulthood, in the few years she had known him.  "Bitsy is catatonic again, she shot Peter Manning through the forehead.  Y'ar father offered himself to get Peter to let the baby and Blair go.  Were ya expecting anything less?"

"No.  Not from Dad."

"Ah, ya understand him."

"I have for a while, I just . . . didn't always know it or show it."

"Yes, well, y'ar growing up."

"Maybe," he said, sitting down and crossing his ankles on the coffee table.  "I'm glad he's dead.  No matter what, he ruined Dad's life.  Or tried to."

"Jack Manning, I've told you not to do that with your feet,"  Dorian reminded.

He brought his legs down.  "How long before they get here?"

"An hour or two.  Not long," the nun said, as Sam returned with the goods.  He was ready to create his welcome home poster, and the nun took him into the kitchen.  Jack was staring at Dorian.

She said, "Is there something I can do for you?"

"No.  Just wondering how you're going to get in good with Timothy when he finds out what you think of my father, again."

"Now, Jack, anger talks."

"Yeah, it does.  And here's mine.  If you want to keep Timothy around, you had better not let him get wind of the kinds of things you said about my Dad a few days back.  He thinks of my father as a son, and he won't like it."

Jack folded his arms.  Dorian unfolded hers and sat at the other end of the sofa.  

What he had said was blatant truth.

***

An hour or so later, Sam put the finishing touches on his poster, just as the doorbell rang.  He ran, like a little hellion, to the La Boulaei foyer, and opened it without asking who was there.  He jumped toward Todd, then stopped, seeing his arm.  "Dad!  Mom!  Yay!  But Dad, what happened?"

"It's a long story, come on, hug me first," Todd said to the boy.  He obliged, and there were more hugs, all around. 

Jack said, "God, glad you guys are all right," and took Ray, putting him up into the air, and the boy giggled.  

Ray said, "We fwew.  In the sky."

"I know.  It was really cool, wasn't it?"  Jack asked.

"Yeah, really cool."  Ray said.  "Ganpa sat next to me."

Blair hugged her sons over and over.  Finally, Jack said, "Mom, you hugged us five times already."

"I just missed you guys," she said.

"We missed you, Mom!"  Sam said, "Look!"  He held up his poster.  "Sister Becca Thrin helped me."

Blair admired it, as did Todd.  Timothy was still behind them, as the greetings were exchanged. 

Dorian appeared at the foot of the staircase and locked eyes with him.  There was an exchange between them of looks, with expressions somewhere between intense recognition and profound longing.  As the family moved toward the living room, he stood, waiting, and she said, "Mr. Broderick."

He said, "Dorie," and moved toward her, at which time she flung herself into his arms, and he kissed her like there was not going to be another chance.  He said, "My goodness, I missed ya."

She pulled back from his face a bit, and said, "I missed you, as well.  Very much."  Then, she ran her fingers through his silvery hair, and said, "I'm so sorry about Aiden, Timothy."

Though he attempted stoicism, he broke down into her arms, and buried his face in her shoulder and neck.  She held him, and they remained, together, in the foyer.

Sam said, "I'm happy you're home.  I don't want to go to sleep without you."  He looked at both his parents, and they could tell that he was still feeling the trauma of what had happened.  

Todd said, "You won't have to worry about that.  When we get back, we're all having a slumber party family night in our room."

"Yay, I love those!"  Sam added.

"Hey, what about me?"  A voice said from the doorway.  Everyone turned to see Starr, standing in the arches of the living room doors.  

Blair went to her bruised and battered daughter immediately, and hugged her gently.  Todd stood, from where he was, and just looked at her, purpled and looking uncomfortable.  She hugged her mother, and the others, and stared back at her father.   He said, "Shorty," softly, and  they went toward each other.

She said, "Dad," and went into his arms.  She put her head against his chest.  He said, "Everything is all right now.  He's dead."

"And of course, you're included in the family night sleep over," Blair said, going to her husband and daughter.

Starr was still lost in her reconnection with her father.  "Was it bad?"  She searched Todd's face with fear in her eyes.

"It was what it usually is.  It's done.  Bad enough, and through."

"You were hurt."

"Yeah, I was.  But I'm okay."

"Dad, your brother, your father, all you went through."

"It's over, Starr.  I'm . . . sorry he hurt you."

She cried softly onto his chest.  "I'm sorry that you didn't have a father like mine."

Blair saw his eyes well up, and he ran his good hand along her hair.  He didn't answer; he couldn't find words.

The kids packed up and got themselves ready to go home with their parents.  Todd said, "We're going to have a great family night together, all of us.  You too, Shorty, and Peanut."

She said, "Let me go get her ready then."

Blair was cradling the baby in her arms.  "Todd, I missed her so much."

"I know.  Me, too.  My little sack of sugar."

"Was she good, Momma?"

"She was beautiful," Addie said.  "like my beautiful girl."

Williams was there and parked outside, just as Starr came down the stairs with Hope and an overnight bag.  The Mannings congregated in the foyer, and Timothy said, "Y'ar beautiful family, Todd.  Y'ar a fortunate man, My Boy."

"I couldn't agree more," he said, and handed his baby daughter back to her mother.

They loaded into the limousine.  As they took off and left La Boulaei behind, Todd said, "We're going home."

The kids reacted as he feared; they seemed apprehensive to see the house again. 

"Unforgettable is our place.  It belongs to us.  No one can ruin that for us.  Not a smarmy old bear, and not a crazy, bad man."

"Dad's right," Starr said.  "Unforgettable was a gift for Mom.  No one should be able to ruin that."

"I'm kinda scared," Sam said.

"I understand, but you shouldn't be scared.  No one is going to hurt you anymore."  Blair said.

"He was a bad man, right Dad?"

"Yeah, he was a bad man, Sam."

"He's not coming back," Sam said, more like a question than anything.

"No, he's not."  Todd said.  "No one's going to hurt our family, ever again."

Sam scooted closer to Todd, "I'm glad.  He was a really bad man, Dad.  He was really mean.  Was he mean like that when you were a little boy, Dad, like me?"

Blair wistfully looked out the window, and Todd said, "Yeah.  He was.  But I don't want you to worry about that.  You asked me before, and I don't want you to think of it anymore."  He held the boy's chin gently in his hand.

"Okay, Dad," Sam said, and leaned his head against his father's chest.

"Daddy, the bad man is gone."  Ray said.  "Tell Sam."

"I did, Ray.  I told him."


Blair, pushing the tears back, said, "This is where we belong, Todd."

"Yeah.  This is."  He pulled Sam, who was now drifting off into sleep, closer to him.  Hope was sleeping as well, and Jewel was yawning and peering around the cab of the car.  

Todd said, "And you," pointing to Jack, "you and I will be having a conversation about closing doors in the house with girls visiting."

His son got red in the face and said, "Okay, but do we have to talk about it now?"

"No.  Just sayin.'"

"Dad, I'm glad you tell me off.  I need it sometimes," Jack said.

"Everyone does, once in a while."  Todd answered.

I'm not just your son, I'm me.  

Just me.

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