Chasing the Monsters: 32

"I love when Grandma Bitsy comes!"  Sam said, setting the table for lunch with Blair. 

Jewel, in her high chair, watched intently.

Blair said, "She's wonderful, isn't she, Sam?"

"Yeah, she's so cool.  Mom, she acts like a kid."

Blair remembered him saying the same thing about Addie, years before.  "She does, sometimes."

"I can't wait until she gets here."

"Well, I think you have your wish," Blair said, wiping her hands and walking to the glass doors that led to the patio.  She could hear the copter approaching.

Sam rushed to her side, and Jewel clapped awkwardly.  "He's coming!"  Sam announced.

"Shh, now, Ray's still napping.  Give me some peace, a few more minutes," Blair said, smiling and looked back to watch her husband's approach.

The copter landed without a hitch, and they waited until they saw all three of them descending the staircase leading to the kitchen patio.  Blair opened the slider before they even got to it.  "Momma!  So good to see you!" she said, reaching her arms out, and Bitsy went to them happily.

She let go of her embrace with Blair to turn to Sam.  "Sam, I am so happy to see you, we're going to have such fun!"  Bitsy said, hugging him.

"Me too, Grandma Bitsy!"

Jewel clapped and cooed, calling Todd from her chair.  "Da da!"

"Hi, Baby Girl," he said, palming her head and kissing it.  

"Todd, she's beautiful and growing," Bitsy said.

"I know, Momma."

"Where's my Road Runner?"  Bitsy said, looking around.

"Believe it or not, he's still napping," Blair said.

"Oh, okay, he'll be up soon, I'm sure,"  Bitsy added.

Todd said, "I'll show you to your room, Momma."

"Can we, Dad?  Please?"  Sam asked.

"Sure, uh, Jack, you'll have to do the honors.  Get the bags off the helipad."

"No problem, come on Squirt.  Grandma, I'll show you my last report card," Jack said.

"Oh, good," she said, following Jack, and Sam who was tugging at her hand to get her upstairs.

***

Timothy sat, still alone in Chicago.  He walked to the large picture windows and looked out over Grant Park.  From where he stood, he could see the compartmentalized green areas, surrounded on all sides by sidewalk beige, and beyond, the boat-cluttered waters of Munroe Harbor.  He sighed.   "What is going on with y'ar brother's past, Eric?  Can ya give me something, Son, to go on?"  The silence continued.  "I want to do right by both of ya, but what can I do next?"

He sat down and leaned his head back.  With his eyes closed, he journeyed back to a street in Dublin, with the cars rushing by, and his wife, Erin and little Eric, spotting him across the way . . . the shots, and the blood coming out of Erin as she pulled their son to her to shield him.  "Ya did it, Erin," he said softly aloud, "Ya saved our boy," and then, his mind drifted to the moment when Eric let go of life.  He'd been there, as he wished, but still, it did not mend things.  It didn't take away the emptiness.  In Chicago, he was alone.  Nothing with a purpose, not really.  He'd lost almost everything.  Almost.  He squeezed his eyes tighter and then relaxed.

When he opened his eyes and jerked his head back to upright, his eyes focused, and he saw it.  

The liquor cabinet.

***

Still in the quiet of the lower level, Blair said, "As for you, Mr. Manning," she slipped her arms around his neck.

"What, Mrs. Manning?"

"I missed you," she whispered, and ran her hand along his chest, and down, until she took his hand.

"Same here, Babe," he said and kissed her.  Jewel was playing patty cake with the high chair tray in the background.

She said, "Uneventful trip?"

"I guess," he said, sitting down, still holding her hand.  She sat next to him.  "Your son was sharing how he sees us.  Interesting."

"I'll bet."

"Blair, I want Momma to live here."

"I know you do, and I have no problem with that.  I hope she can, soon."

"I want her to experience the family."

"I understand that, too.  We have plenty of space for her, and people for her to pay attention to."

"Yes, yes!"  Jewel said, to herself, but it made them laugh, softly.

"Sometimes it's hard for me to . . ." he stopped a minute, and studied her hand, still in his.

"Accept it?"

"Yeah, that's it.  I guess I can't believe sometimes this is really my life."

"It is.  Believe me," she said, reaching out with her other hand and touching his face.

"I need you to stand by me, Blair.  This all seems white picket, but I need you to stand with me when I bring down those men."

She sighed, hoping somehow he'd forgotten it.  Instead, it seemed that seeing his mother had enlivened the need in him.  She said, "I'm with you, Todd, you know that.  I just . . . don't want to lose you or our family."

"You won't.  They're going to pay.  Someone has to."

"Todd, are you . . . did you remember other things?"

He got up from the table and picked up the baby.  Holding her, he said, "Not now, Babe, okay?"

She gulped, and watched him, cuddling the baby, and felt an ache of sadness and worry.  She said, "Whenever you're ready, My Love, you know I'm here."

"Hear that?  Mommy's here.  And Daddy's here.  We're all here, Jewel," he said, looking at his wife.  "Thank you, for her.  She's so beautiful."

"You had a hand in it," she said, refusing to give in to emotions.

"Maybe but, without you, forget it."

"Well, you're welcome, then."  She stood up.  "I'm going to get Ray.  He's slept long enough."

"I'll go," Todd said and handed Jewel off to her mother.  He was gone before Blair could look behind herself to watch him go.

She held the baby to her chest, and the top of her head grazed Blair's lips.  "We love you, Baby Girl," she said.

***
It was dark and she had just heard his car pulling into the driveway, stopping under the carport, the door slamming with force.

His hands covered in fingerpaints, his face and clothing blotched with smears of red, blue and yellow, his little eyes widened.

"You must hide," she said quietly.  "Put your hands in your pockets.  Hide, now."

Without hesitation, the little boy ran to his open closet and inside it.  She followed behind him, her eyes connecting with his as she slowly closed the door.  She managed a very large smile to try and comfort and reassure him.  "Momma," he said softly, and she closed the door.

Gathering herself a moment, she went to the kitchen, rubbing a small smear of blue fingerpaint off her cheek with her apron.

Instead of seeing Peter, looming by the doorway and expecting a beer, she saw Mitch, arms folded, smile wickedly spreading.  "Beautiful," he said, surveying her.

She absently fixed her hair.  "I look . . . I look a mess."

"Not to me," he said and walked toward her slowly.

"The baby.  Todd's awake, he's in his room.  He's . . . hiding in the closet.  We thought you were Peter," Bitsy said.

"No," he said, sliding his arms around her waist,"I'm not Peter."  His mouth took hers.

She pulled away.  "Stop, please?  He's coming."

He smiled again.  "He's not.  I told him to meet me at the church.  He's there, not here."

She felt her shoulders sink, as he ran his hand up her body, landing on her throat.  He turned her head away, and ran his tongue along her neck.

"He's not here," she repeated, closing her eyes.

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