Chasing the Monsters: 38

Later that evening, Todd returned home, with the trunk in his possession.  After the Rodi's meeting and deposit of the old item in the limo, his father went back to Chicago, again, with Ribsky, to continue working on the case.  Blair, waiting for him in the bedroom, was resting while the children slept.  He hoisted himself onto the bed across from her and ran his hand down her head to her back.  She caught a glimpse of a dark cloud passing through his eyes as soon as he looked into her eyes, and she touched his face.  "What is it, My Love?"

"It's nothing, really."

"Do you want to talk about it?  This nothing?"

He half-smiled at her knowing him.  "It's about something . .  . something that Ribsky told us."

"All right, what is it?"

"He said that he has a contact, someone who can look up the police calls from when I was a kid.  Remembered, I guess."

She frowned a little.  "I'm not sure I like you staying with this, Todd.  It's very dark."

"I know," he said, petting her hair again.  "I just . . . I want to know, Blair.  No one should get away with that.  Ever."

She didn't like the coldness in his voice or the look in his eye.  She just said, "Okay," in a soft voice.  It was his life, his experience.  She couldn't pretend to know what it felt like.  But still, inside her, she didn't like it.  "So, what did Ribsky say about it?"

"A woman.  Dispatcher.  Said she never forgot the voice of the little boy who called her."

Blair gulped, imagining a child Sam's age, on the phone, or Ray, calling for help, and no one coming.  The fear he must have felt, the despair.  She said, "Her conscience.  She couldn't live with that."

He turned onto his back, and looked at the ceiling.  "She lived with it long enough."

"Todd, can't you . . ."

"No.  I can't."  

There was no room for any other answer in his voice.

She said, "All right," and turned on her side, with her back to him.

After a few minutes, she felt him moving, and then, his large hand ran over her back and down her shoulder, wrapping in front of her and resting over and around her.  She lifted her hand and covered his.  

"I was a little kid.  Peter was . . . hurting my mother.  I needed someone to help us.  No one should have ignored that."  He then whispered, "Don't be afraid, Babe.  I won't leave us."

"Never?"

"Not until I have to.  And then, I'll still haunt you from beyond the grave," he said, nipping her ear.

She turned over and faced him, and his mouth went directly to hers.  When the kiss ended, she said, "How do you know I won't go first?"

"Because you can't," he said.  The look in his eyes said that there was no further possibility of discussion on the topic.

She just sighed, and touched his face again.  "Not a good topic of discussion."

"Nah."

"Todd, I'm afraid, for you.  I don't want you involved in more of this.  It's just not good for us.  You have children, that need you."

"What makes you think there has to be a bad way of getting revenge?  Maybe I'll just let the authorities do their thing."

She rolled her eyes, "Oh yeah, right.  Todd Manning's doing that."  

"Stranger things have happened.  I've done it before.  I made peace with your aunt.  It didn't last long, but I did it. "

"You did.  Even let her take on the gallery."

"She does well with it.  Can't fault her there."

"She'll come around again.  You're hard not to love.  Especially when you're giving her great nieces and nephews and making me smile."

"That I can do all day," he said, "with my eyes closed."

"Oh I know you can," she said, reaching around him and pulling him close.  Then she sighed, and said, "I'm so tired for some reason."

"Just lie here, then, and let me hold you, okay?"  She wouldn't have moved away even if he didn't ask.  She felt secure in his arms, and she also knew with today's goings on, he needed her, close to him.  She snuggled in, and felt him wrap his strong arms around her protectively.  Then he said, "Hey?"

"Yeah?"

"Sing to me, Babe."  He hadn't heard her for so long, but remembered, clearly, how the echoes of her voice in his mind saved his sanity, more than once, and how listening to her sing in the quiet of their bedroom had taken away his night terrors.  "Sing."

She did.  She opened her lips and softly began, "Unforgettable, that's what you are," and then paused.  She said, "Don't you get tired of that song?"

He said, "No.  Not with your voice doing it."

She knew what he meant.  For a while, when he had first returned, the sound of her voice could do things to him that defied understanding.  Now, it was more as it always was; he just loved to hear it.  It's potency had lost strength, but it still quelled him.  As she continued, he closed his eyes and she watched him, breathing against her, and soaking in the sound.  

"That's why darling, it's incredible . . ."  

She was interrupted by a distant scream.

***

"Well, it's late, Bea.  This was a good session.  I appreciate you being flexible and having one in the later evening.  My schedule was very tight the last few days with the influx of the new patients and that disturbance earlier."

"Yes, the man with the aliens.  He was so afraid.  He really thought they were real.  I know, I have had that same feeling.  The sparrows, mostly."  Bea said.

"Yes, the sparrows," Ray said.

"Dr. Martino, eh, Ray?"

"Yes, Bea."

"I . . . feel grateful for everything you have done."

"You're welcome."

"I don't think I can ever repay it."

"No need."

"I do have one thing, though."

His curiosity was peaked.  "Okay, what is that one thing?"

"A gift for you.  Please don't say no.  Just come with me, please?"  She put her hand out to him

He took it and stood, "Sure."

They walked through the corridor, now letting go of hands, and to the large staircase in the center lobby, up to her room door.  She opened it, and there, in the room, was a painting facing the door.  It was a beach scene, that he recognized instantly.  It was Aruba.  He had mentioned it, many times, in their chats and in passing.  She had captured the beachfront perfectly.  He said, "My God, that's beautiful, Bea."

"Your favorite place, that can be put in my favorite Mountainview place, which was your office.  It meant so much to me to get well.  It's taken a lot, but you've accomplished so much and . . . well, I appreciate it."

He swallowed.  "It's not over, you'll still see me for sessions every other week."  It was as if he was reminding himself.  He would miss her, but it was time for her to . . .

"I know.  I'll be back for those.  I'm free, to go now, aren't I?"

He turned toward her, "Yes, Bea.  You're free to go."

"Can I go now?"

"Well, it's late, but the papers are all in order already.  We completed them earlier, remember?"

"Yes, that's why I'm asking," she giggled.

He smiled, knowing that Todd was just the person to copter over in the dark to get her.  "You're free to go, any time Todd wants to pick you up.  You're on your own now."

"No, not really.  I'm not on my own, I have my son and his family.  My family."

"Yes, that's right.  My mistake," he said, taking the painting from the easel.  He propped it under one arm.  "I have to take this with me, before someone else snatches it up."  He noticed a small area with her suitcase, packed, and her paintings and the large art portfolio Todd had bought her.  Meager things, but her things.  

She's already packed.  She knew all it would take was a simple phone call to Todd Manning and she would be gone.

She was ready to go.

***

"Todd?" before Blair could say it, he was out of the bed and bounded toward the kids' rooms.  Without hesitating, the first room he went to was Sam's.  Pushing the door open, he saw that the tent was set up, with the light on inside it, and his mini laptop set up, but no Sam in sight.  

Blair followed, pulling on her robe to keep out the chill in the air, and saw him, bounding toward the baby's room, where Jewel, in her crib, and Ray, in his big-boy bed, would be sleeping.  She was close behind him, when she saw him stop short, and flick on the light.

Jewel was sound asleep, somehow.  Ray was crying silently in his bed, sitting up.  Sam, was standing over him, covered in sweat, and breathing heavily, a slight moan coming from his throat.  Ray announced, through tears, "He scared me, Daddy!"

Todd went to Sam immediately, and realized he was cold to the touch, and Blair, gathered Ray in her arms and soothed him.  The three year old said, "I'm k, Mommy.  Sam's just lonewy, he just afwaid."

Todd had already picked Sam up in his arms, and was holding him, carrying him out of the nursery and into his own room.  At this point, Sam was sobbing and clinging to his father tightly.  Blair worked to get Ray settled back into his bed, hurriedly, worried about her other son.

Todd tried to set Sam down, but he would not let go.  He said, "Hey, Buddy, you're squeezing me pretty tight there."

Sam didn't speak.  He just made noises that were clearly the sound of too much breathing and crying at the same time.

"It's all right, I'm right here.  It's okay."  He turned on the light, "See?  Everything is okay.  Mommy's in the other room, getting Ray back to bed, Jack's asleep, Jewel's snoozing.  You're okay, Bud."

Sam didn't answer, and Todd began to get alarmed, when Blair rushed into the room, trying not to appear terrified.  "Hey, Sam, hi, Little Man, what's going on?  Did you have a bad dream, huh?"

The child didn't answer, except with more heavy breathing and groans.

"Sam, it's all right," she said, putting her arms out, and he let go of Todd long enough to go to her.  He held on tightly, and she smoothed his matted, damp hair, and shushed him, softly.  She said, "Todd, he's cold, and he's shaking.  And he's not talking," her voice cut off, from her throat tightening in fear.

"I'll call an ambulance," he said, "or I'll copter him over."

Sam spoke, "Grandma Bitsy."

"She's all right, Sam.  She's at her place, in bed, it's late."  Blair said.

"Grandma Bitsy, please, Mom.  Please?"

Todd and Blair looked at each other, and he jumped off the bed, toppling Sam's laptop and comics, and ran to the master bedroom.  She called after him, "Todd?  It's late?  Todd!"

Before she could get off the bed with Sam in her arms, he'd bounded onto the helipad, and started the copter.  Blair was already outside on the balcony, both she and Sam being tousled by the heavy wind from the propellers, and she went toward him, not sure what to do next.  He beckoned to her to load her son into the cab.  For a moment, she hesitated, but then, buckling him in, she looked at Todd and waited for his word.  He said, "I'm going," he said, "he has to see her.  I'll do whatever he needs."

Sam was now perfectly quiet in the backseat of the copter, buckled in, suddenly and eerily calm.  She said, "What's wrong with him, Todd?"

"He's scared, Blair.  He's terrified."  Todd looked away a moment, and then turned back to her.  "I . . . I've been that scared before.  For whatever reason, he needs her.  If he's not warmed up by the time I get us there, I'll bring him to the hospital instead.  Don't worry, Babe, it's only 20 minutes and . . ." he slowed his speech, assuringly, "I've got him."

A warm rush of trust washed over her, and she remembered him, coming out of the woods, after luring a bear away from his children; him, digging into the ice with his bare hands to save a bluish Sam; Leona's sharp, cadaverous grin, and how Todd had given his life for her and their son, and she sighed out.  "Okay," she said, trusting him, and letting go of his arm.  The copter lifted off, and he could see her, in the side mirror, watching a moment, before running back toward the house and the other children.  

He moved his eyes to the rear view and to the back seat, and Sam.  The boy was just calmly watching out the window.  He wasn't crying any more or breathing heavily.  He was still covered in sweat, but Todd had grabbed a blanket off the bed when carrying him out, and wrapped him in it, so that it covered his body and head, leaving an opening, like a hood for him to look through.  He hadn't thought to give the boy a headset, so he decided to leave him be for the twenty-minute copter ride to Mountainview's lawn.

Blair went back into the house and realized that she was shaking, herself, from head to toe.  She realized she had given up the terror, when she looked into her husband's eyes.  She trusted him, and she accepted that it was more than she trusted anyone.  Even though he had been the person who had committed some of the largest sins against her in her life, she now accepted that he also was the only man she trusted with it and with the lives of her children.  She warmed her hands by the fireplace, and then went back to the nursery.  Ray was already back asleep, and Jewel was snoozing with her hand wrapped around a little stuffed toy Todd had bought her.  Blair headed back to their room, to wait for his return.

***

Todd, landing the copter on Mountainview's lawn, went around to the cab and opened the door.  "We're here, Buddy.  We're going to see Grandma Bitsy."

Sam turned to his father and said, "Good.  He was in my room, Dad."

Todd squinted, slightly.  "No, Sam, he wasn't in your room.  We talked about this."

"He was.  He was a skeleton with skin on in some parts," the little boy swallowed.

Todd put his arms out, and Sam went into them without hesitating, the blanket falling to the floor of the copter cab.  "He's . . . he's not here, Sam."

"I know, not now," the boy said.

Todd secured the blanket around Sam, and carried him into the lobby.  He signed in, and then onto the staircase toward Bitsy's room.  The child was no longer shaking, or cold.  Todd felt assured that he would be all right, at least for now, and went to his mother's door.  He knocked, and she opened it within minutes.  She said, "Todd, I was wondering when you'd get here."

He said, "Momma, I . . ." and caught a glimpse of her bags and artwork, piled up and ready to go.  "You . . .are packed?"

"Yes, of course.  I called you and left a message.  I'm free to go, but . . . you don't seem like you knew . . . or got the message?"

"No, I didn't," he said, setting Sam down in front of her and he ran to her arms.  

"Grandma Bitsy," Sam began to cry again, "He was there, in my room.  The bad man."

Todd felt his own fists clench at his sides, but contained his reaction and continued to watch his son and his mother, as he got her bags together and moved them by the door.

"Did you do what I told you?" she soothed.

"No.  I didn't.  I was too scared.  I went to get my brother, and I couldn't talk, and I scared him, too."

"All right, Sam," she said, hugging him to her.  "It's all right, see?  Daddy's here, and he's strong and he'll protect you.  No one is in your house.  You didn't do what I told you to, Sweetie."

For a moment, Todd wondered what she had told him to do, and a small part of him hoped that she wasn't teaching his son how to go inside himself to escape the fear or . . .

His concern was squelched when she said, "First, you ask God to calm you, then you go and paint.  Right?"

"Yeah, I . . . I think I forgot this time, Grandma.  He was right in my room, and he was a skeleton with skin."

She rocked him softly.  "Well, that's over with.  He wasn't in your room.  When we get home, we'll look and see what it was you thought was the bad man.  He's not here, Sam," she said, pulling back from the boy and looking into his eyes, "he's not anywhere anymore that he can hurt you.  You know that."

Sam sighed.  "Yeah, I guess so," he looked to his feet.  "But there's lots of bad men, right Dad?  Even my first Dad, Zeus, he was bad sometimes?"

"No, Sam, not at our house.  Not at Unforgettable.  Your old Dad's got that covered."

He looked down and his cheeks pinked.

She said, "You shouldn't be embarrassed.  Your father understands."

Sam looked up to Todd, as if afraid of his reaction.  Todd gently said, "Of course I do.  We all have dreams and things we're afraid of.  I even do."

"I don't want you to think I'm a baby," Sam said, "like my other Dad does."

Todd again felt ire in his gut, and thwarted it with thoughts of what his son was going through.  "I don't.  I wouldn't.  You're a good, strong kid.  The same kid who saved Hope and got her out the window at La Boulaei."

The boy nodded, "I was brave then.  Not so much, now," he looked down again.

"Yes, yes you are brave, Sam."  Todd heard himself say.  "You're brave enough to tell us what's going on, and to paint the pictures of it.  That's brave."

"Really, Dad?"

"Yep."

Sam, with his hair slightly stiff from sweat, smiled broadly.  Then he said, "I'll do what you said, next time, Grandma Bitsy, I just forgot."

"I know you will, Sam.  Now, will you help me carry my things?"

"Sure!  But wait, does that mean you're coming home with us?" his tone turned decidedly happy.

"Yes, if your father and mother will have me."

"Yay!  Can we Dad, can she?"

"Of course, we've been waiting for this," he said, reaching a hand down to his mother and helping her to her feet, "for a while," he finished, his hazel eyes meeting hers.  

"Well, let's get going!"  Sam said, running to her bags and picking up the smaller of the two. 

Bitsy and Todd lingered for a moment, and she said, "These are the things, Todd . . ." she gulped quietly, "that I should have done for you, my angel, and I'm sorry," her voice shattered, and she leaned her head onto his chest just below his chin.

His hand found her shoulder, and he said, "You did so much, Momma.  Please, don't," and the words sounded like someone else's voice, so thick with emotion he barely recognized his own.  "You did everything you could."

She pulled herself together and walked off toward Sam, and took his hand, and her other bag.  Todd watched the two of them, and swallowed back the lump in his throat, and went to help them.

"Gee, Momma, your art, some of it will have to be picked up."

"That's fine, just my suitcase and this little bag," she pointed to the one Sam was holding with two hands, "and the art portfolio, for now."

"Sounds good," he said, nodding, and the three of them went to the door and into the corridor.  

She stopped and looked back.  Todd said, "You, okay, Momma?"

"Yes, Todd, I'm perfect," she said, and through her tears she smiled, spilling one onto her face.  She quickly brushed her hand along his cheek, and then turned and almost skipped off, with Sam in tow, to the staircase.

He watched, hoisting her suitcase onto one shoulder, as Sam, happily talking and giggling, held Bitsy's hand with his left, and her duffel bag with his other, and she clumsily carried her portfolio with her free arm.  They were already in the lobby when he got to the top of the staircase, and both looked up toward him, craning their necks, and smiling.  "Come on, Dad!"  Sam said, gesturing him along.

"Yes, come on then, Angel," Bitsy said, and did the same.

He sighed and followed.

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