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Sunday, February 5, 2017

Chasing the Monsters: 54

Tina slumped on the sofa at Llanfair, and Viki, opening the double doors and showing surprise at seeing her sister at that hour of the morning, said, "Tina?  You're up?"

"Yes, I'm up," she said, in a way that let Viki know she was anything but cheery.


"What are you doing?"


"Sitting."


"Yes, clearly, but why?"


"Thinking."


"I see," Viki said, and went to the chair across from her, sitting down and making herself comfortable.  "Do you want to share what you're thinking?"


"No, not really."


"All right, then," Viki said, getting up.


"It was just terrible," Tina said, and Viki stopped in her tracks.


"What was?"


"The goodbye.  Cord and I."


"What was so terrible, Tina," Viki said, getting back to the chair.


"He . . . kissed me," she slumped lower.


"That's terrible?  Tina, who are you trying to kid?  You're overjoyed that Cord kissed you."


"I'm not, because he didn't stay."


"I see," Viki said, raising an eyebrow.  "Did you ask him to?"


"No."


"Well then how did you expect him to stay here?"


"I just did."


"Tina, he lives out there, he has a new love interest.  If you didn't ask . . ."


"I sort of asked.  I told him Clint had a cold."


Viki laughed, "That's silly.  After all these years, you'd think you would be honest with him."


She perked up, sitting forward, "You're right.  I wasn't.  I didn't say why I wanted him to stay."  Then, she said, dreamily, "Maybe I should have told him everything."


"He may have just assumed that you were still not over Aiden, and that you were resigned to his being with someone else."


"Then why did he kiss me?"


"Perhaps he was opening the door, and waiting to see what you would say?"


She stood up, "That's it!  I'm out of here."


"Tina, where are you going?"  Viki turned in her chair as Tina went toward the doors and into the foyer.


She called back, "Out West!"


***


He found himself in an unfamiliar place, with many unfamiliar faces.  Most were sullen, grayish expressions, a few brighter, sprinkled here and there, and some reddish with sadness and tears.  There were three children, none older than Sam, standing side by side with a man behind them, his hands resting on two of their shoulders, with the third child in the center.  "Lucas," he said to himself, and slowly waited until the man's eyes met his.  When they did, he suddenly knew Timothy, as if it were planned, but then again, the Irishman was likely the only unfamiliar face.  He approached.


"You're Timothy, I guess?"  he asked.  His three children were following him, and one hugged his thigh in nervousness.


"I am, nice to see ya again, but also sorry, so sad what has happened to y'ar Mam."


"Thank you," he said and guided Timothy by the arm to the area where the pall bearers were gathered.  After making introductions, Lucas said, "Have you seen my father?"


Timothy swallowed.  He had looked for Jack, but in not being able to find him, assumed he'd be there.  His eyes skimmed the moderate crowd.  "I haven't, no."


Lucas just petted the head of the smallest of the children, who was looking up at him, innocently.  He said, "Thanks," and walked off, the children in tow.  Various people mulled around; cops were plentiful, many stopping to give condolences to Lucas and his wife.  She was stunning; almost his height, whispy thin, with long dark hair and sweetly defined features.  The smallest child, the little boy, looked as though he had her face on his body.  All of them would engage in the obligatory greetings and words, handshakes and hugs.  Timothy watched, and then thought, "I never had this for Erin.  I couldn't bring myself . . ." and he stopped, mid-sentence.


Where was Jack Ribsky?


When Erin had died, Timothy had gone on a binge, drinking sun up until sun down, finding himself wandering in different places throughout Dublin: waking on a bench in the park; sleeping in a pew in a church.  He'd never remembered how he had gotten to these places, but would stumble forward, his clothes mussed, as he ran from the reality of his life.  His wife and child were murdered, and he'd been there to see it.  And days and weeks had passed, and Erin's sister and his sister, Rebecca Katherine, had seen to a proper burial, days before he noticed.  But where was he?  He'd gone off and hid in a variety of places, like a vagrant, so they could never find him.  He didn't want to be found.  He'd gone to a local hostel, and appeared to all who spent time there, like a homeless guttersnipe, and waited it out. 


It wasn't until weeks after that he found himself at her graveside, and the graveside of who he thought was his young son, on a Dublin hillside.  


Do not stand at my grave and forever weep.

I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and forever cry.
I am not there. I did not die.

Remembering that was when he became certain that they were not seeing Pamela Ribsky's husband that day.


***

"Todd, I feel really badly about this, but . . ."  Tina began.


"Don't feel bad, just tell me," he said, losing patience already.


"I won't be able to nanny the kids anymore.  I've made a decision," Tina said, assuredly.


"What, you can't run 30 miles a day anymore chasing Road Runner?"


"No.  I've decided to chase a dream instead."


"Okay.  Is this where you run off with the circus?"


"No!"  She huffed a little, and he smiled to himself.  She said, "I'm leaving town."


"All right.  What dream are you chasing?  Wait, let me guess.  The White Knight-a-thon.  Or, the White-Hat-a-Thon, I should say.  Knights went out with cowboys, right?"


"Todd Manning, you can make all the jokes you want," she was indignant.


"Nah, Sis, I'm done teasing.  If that's what you want to do," he said, turning serious, "then that's what you have to do.  He's not a terrible guy, really."


She sighed, "Then you get it?"


"Yeah, I get it.  You've loved him, Heck, longer than I loved Blair, and that's a long time.  Not to say there weren't breaks in between."


"There were breaks.  Sure.  Aren't there always?  Things go wrong, you marry someone else, you think you can do without the person, and then you find out you can't?"


He swallowed.  She was so right.  She'd hit it right where it stood in the center of his chest.  He said, "I understand," and his voice was softer and ebbing.


"Of course you do.  That Blair thing."


"Yeah, that Blair thing."


"Well."  She stopped.  "I have to go and find my Blair."


"Hmf.  Okay, I get that.  Trust me.  Over Aiden?"


She felt tears well up.  "Aiden was the first man who wanted me for me, aside from Cord.  He also made me feel . . . loved, I guess."  Her voice caught, "He's gone."


"He is."  Todd added, feeling a twinge of his absence.  "Nothing you could do, or anyone else."


"No.  So, I'll be over sometime this week to say goodbye to the kids, after I get myself together for this journey."


Todd stunned himself, "I don't know why in Hell I'm saying this but I'll miss you, Sis."


"I'll miss you, too, and I know why you're saying it.  See you soon, Brother," and she hung up.


He put the phone down and stared back at the computer screen, and the list of police employees for the years in question.  His hand went to the mouse, and he scrolled again.  It was a long list, several hundred names.  He wouldn't know where to begin to try and determine which man had heard his cries and ignored them.  He scrolled all the way to the bottom of the list, searching for a name he might recognize; maybe he'd heard it, from Peter, somehow, when he was a child.  Nothing clicked.


Scrolling back to the top of the page, Todd jotted down a small list of things:  Goodbye gift for Tina, Call Dad, Call Jack Ribsky, spend more time with Jack.


At the last word, he dragged his pen a bit before picking it off the page.  He got up, "Hey, Jack, you around?" and went out the door of his office.


*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

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