"Todd," he corrected.
"Todd, you don't have to apologize for what he was. I'm sorry for the fact that she never told anyone what he had done to you after your mother left. I'm sorry she didn't believe, and I'm sorry she let the kidnapping happen. I don't know what it was. The greed, or some false loyalty or what she thought was love? Whatever it was, it had a hold on her."
"No sorries needed. Peter's the monster who caused it all. She was just another victim. That's how I see her," Todd said.
Blair still had Pamela's hand. She said, "Thank you. I owe something precious to you and your sister. She died defending my little boy. I can't thank her enough, or you, for letting us know."
Ribsky said, "Listen, I think we've all shed enough tears over this man. Let's eat."
Todd found himself smiling at the man's comment, and Blair and Pamela both laughed through tears. Blair said, "Oh, we were not planning to eat here."
"I know, but it seems in order," he said. "You've never eaten until you've eaten her pierogies, and she just made them fresh to freeze."
Todd said, "I can't resist food right now. Is it okay with you, Blair?"
Pamela interjected, "Unless you have a plane to catch?"
"Todd has his own jet, and we'd love to stay," Blair said.
With that, the strange foursome embarked on a first meal; the men were in the living room, talking football, with beers in hand, and Blair helped Pamela with the preparations in the kitchen. When dinner was ready, all four of them gathered in the kitchen, and talked over the food. Todd and Blair conversed with the Ribsky's, and ate the Polish meal, which was different to them, but quite good.
At the end of the dinner, Todd said, "I can't eat anything else! It was really good, thanks," and then turned to Ribsky and said, "I . . . think you'll be hearing from my father soon."
"Oh yeah, Mr. Broderick. What is his interest in talking with me?"
Todd's smile faded, and he looked down at his plate. Blair stepped in and answered, "Todd's remembered more things from his childhood. They involve the inaction of the police here. Needless to say, he wants to know whom it was that ignored his calls for help."
***
Timothy finished filing the proxy papers for the probate court hearing and sat back, satisfied with his work. Todd could leave, he would stand in for him, in court, and all would be resolved with Peter's property. "Not bad, Broderick, for a day's work." He leaned against the couch and picked up the remote control, turning on the television.
After a few moments, flicking through the stations, he shut the television, realizing there was nothing of interest for him to see. He sank back and listened to the complete quiet.
He closed his eyes and saw Erin. She was wearing a white, flowing gown, loose-fitting, and she was young, as he had last seen her. Her face seemed porcelain-perfect, and her eyes were bright and happy. He watched as she moved along the bank of flowing water, that he recognized as the Liffey River, almost as if floating, with her hand outstretched, as if calling to him.
Suddenly, he was there, and appeared in front of her. With all his might, he tried to take her hand, but couldn't reach. "Erin, hold me hand. Take me with ya," he said.
The more he tried, the further he was away from her. "Erin! Erin, don't go," he cried into the dark. He could see the whiteness of her gown flowing around her as she floated upward and further away until she was no more.
He sat up, back in the living room of the hotel suite, and cried.
***
"Todd, you'd mentioned that before briefly, in a cryptic fashion, when we met earlier this trip. You remembered something else?" Ribsky said.
"Yeah, I . . ."
Blair saw him grip the table, and breathe deeply, so she spoke instead, "He remembers making at least one call for help when he was six, and no one attending the call."
Jack's face was indescribable. He frowned, but it was evident he was thinking as well. "No one attending?"
Todd said, "No."
"He can't remember everything, just that he called, and he was told to hold on, and sent to a different person, who told him to run and hide until they got there. When he woke the next morning, and went inside, they hadn't been there. His mother was assaulted and left on the floor in the kitchen." She saw his hands tightening.
Pamela said, "You were just a little boy, calling for help. Jack, how can this be?"
The older man didn't answer, he just leaned onto his hands, folded in front of his mouth, and waited. Then he said, "It can be, I believe Todd, but I can't believe that I worked with people who would hide something like that."
"My father had access to a great deal of money. He was able to hide his secrets well." Todd's expression looked as if he was tasting something bad, and Blair began to worry. "I for one want all of those secrets exposed, so I can get on with my life."
Jack took his hands down from in front of his face and said, "I can guarantee you this. I will work to find out who did this. I've been a proud cop all my life, and whoever it is deserves reckoning."
Todd was surprised to hear his words, and caught eyes with Blair. She said, "Well, I think Timothy was going to ask for your help anyway. No telling what would have happened if Peter was stopped that night, or any other."
"So many things would be different," Todd said, studying his glass. "So many . . ."
Blair reached across and took his hand, and he snapped out of his shell. "I'd appreciate anything that you could do, Jack."
***
Later, Jack and Pamela finished cleaning the kitchen, and had wished Todd and Blair well on their trip home to Llanview. Pamela was drying and stacking dishes, when the phone rang and her husband of thirty-five years picked it up. "Hello?"
"This is Timothy Broderick, calling."
"Yes, how are you? Todd and Blair have just left."
"They were there? This late? I am surprised, to say the least."
"We invited them for dinner. Your son had a very difficult time today."
"Yes."
"They stayed and ate with us, and I found out this news about the police department. Is there any way he can be wrong?" Ribsky fished.
"I doubt it. But he is going on memory. It requires proof, first off, to be moved to the next level."
"What's that?" Ribsky asked, believing he already knew.
"Research, investigation, and outcomes for the individuals."
"I couldn't agree more. He's had enough."
"If you knew it all, Jack, ya would also know that his life would be very different now. His whole make-up could be altered. His pain would be that of everyday life, instead of years of this." He had choked himself up speaking about it.
"Well Mr. Broderick, if you're looking for an investigator with ties to the police department, you can stop looking."
"Then ya will help?"
"I know where to start," he said. "Leave it to me."
***
About an hour into their flight, Todd, who had dozed, lifted his head off Blair's lap. "I feel better."
"Well, that's good. You're in the air, and you love that."
"Yeah," he said swinging his feet around and sitting up. "I can't let this go. I have to get some kind of information to use against them," he said, going to his tablet.
"Not so fast, Mister," she said, blocking his way. He stopped to look at her, from her shoes to her face, and marveled at her. It was almost midnight, on the red eye, after his mess, and she was as stunning as the first thing in the morning.
"What are you planning to do?"
"Whatever you want me to," she answered.
"Shouldn't I . . . be working on finding proof?"
"There's always tomorrow. Besides, Timothy's not going to be looking for it tonight."
"True."
"How about if you catch more sleep?" she said, sitting down and patting the cushion next to her.
"I don't know," he said, plopping down on his back on the long, couch seating that lined the sides of the plane, with his head on her lap again. "I might be persuaded, if someone rubbed my temples."
"I know who that someone is. Do you have a headache?"
"A little. It just feels tight, or tense."
"Okay, that's easily solved." She massaged his temples gently.
He closed his eyes. Then he said, "Blair?"
"Yep?"
"Was Dad telling the truth? Are you really willing to fulfill my every need?"
"Aren't I always?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"Then I guess it's yes."
"Okay," he said, wrapping one hand behind her head and pulling her mouth to his. Letting go, he said, "You may continue," and waved her off like a servant.
She laughed and continued to rub his temples, then moved to his forehead, and jaw, and the tops of his shoulders until he was sound asleep.
She couldn't help replaying the scene at Peter Manning's house as he slept. She had been so afraid, so terrified, for him, seeing him back there. But somehow, he'd come through again. She looked at his sleeping face, docile and soft in the realm of rest, and gently stroked his hair. How has he done this? How has he made it through ALL of this?
She sometimes thought of what she knew of her father, and then let it rest where it was: in the back of her mind, somewhere, among other things she had discarded. She refused to spend much time with it; the stories she knew were enough and those she remembered about foster care were more than plenty. She'd grown up thinking her life was bad, and it was, until she met his. Once she got to know Todd Manning, and what was behind his hot-tempered, sometimes erratic anger, she fully gave up pondering her own childhood. And she was grateful, in a strange way.
Like anyone else, there were bad moments, but they were few and far between. There were even longer bouts of good, and positive memories with foster families. And, there were patches of dread, mistreatment, and fear. But nothing could compare to Todd's life, and she knew it, and somehow, it made her press the memories of her childhood tighter into the palm of forgetting.
The sadness was interrupted with a thought that struck her: her man's strength was immense; his devotion to providing his family with a stable life was all-encompassing; his love for her was unending, as hers was for him.
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