Rating: Gen -- but please see authors notes for relevant warnings.
Feedback: jessriley80@yahoo.com.au
Jess Riley
A lone figure stood gazing, not reading the police notice board. Bold, hand scribbled headlines of mayhem and chaos were overlooked by his eye as a sheet filled with a swirl of colour stole his gaze. Artwork -- artwork created by a child who had completely turned his world upside down. His peace and quiet had been replaced with noise and constant chatter, his orderly lifestyle had been filled with disorder and bedlam and his sparse existence had been filled with clutter. He smiled. "And I wouldn't have it any other way."
"Hey, Jim, I'm glad I caught you." Moving to stand shoulder to shoulder with a man, who in recent times had undergone an incredible metamorphosis, Joel Taggert's eyes were drawn to the notice board. "He's got talent, that's for sure."
Ellison's smile widened. "Ya think?"
"Beats the pants right off Picasso, if you ask me."
This time Ellison laughed. "Then maybe I should get it framed before one of the dim wits around here uses it to wipe up spilled coffee."
"Nobody would be that stupid or that brave," Joel quipped. He lightly slapped Jim on the back. "I was just on the phone with Jessie and she was wondering if you'd like to stay for dinner tonight. Apparently Blair's been helping making dessert -- chocolate mud cake, I think she said."
Ellison hesitated.
"Something wrong, Jim?"
The detective shrugged half-heartedly. "Joel, I appreciate the offer, I really do, but I think I'm already imposing on you guys enough without lumbering Jessie with two more mouths for dinner." Since winning custody of Blair, Jessie Taggert had been picking Blair up from day care and looking after him until he finished work. This arrangement was fine at first, but as he got back into the swing of his fulltime routine, the unpredictable hours of police work sometimes meant that Blair was left at the Taggert's house for longer than he had intended.
"Jim, I hope you're not suggesting that we think Blair is an imposition?"
Jim sighed. "Joel, he's at your place nearly every day after school and I don't want to get into a position where he's any more of burden to Jessie than he already is. He's my son and my responsibility and ever since I started back here, I feel like I'm offloading him all the time."
Joel took a step back. "Well, my friend, all I can say is that I'm glad Jessie was no where near ear shot of that last statement." The older man crossed his arms. "We love having Blair at our house and in no way, shape or form is he a burden on us. The truth of the matter is that having Blair there in the afternoons has helped filled a void in Jessie's life. Ever since she retired from teaching, she's really missed her daily 'kid fix' and she was even wanting me to talk to you about maybe letting Blair have his own room at our place." Joel quickly noted the expression on Jim's face and his tone became tentative. "I mean, I'm not saying that we think you can't look after him," he added quickly. "We think you're a great dad, Jim... it's just that... well, children need to have extended families, as you well know, and since we don't have any grandchildren." Joel paused, becoming uncharacteristically flustered. "What I'm trying to say is that we would like to become more than just babysitters to Blair. We want Blair to be able to treat our house as his own. Have his own things there... make it a place where he feels happy and content when you're working. And when he's comfortable with the idea, maybe he could stay for the odd weekend? We could take him to the zoo, to the aquarium, or even the museum. He really seems to have an interest in history and ancient cultures and given Jessie's passion for teaching, I really think Blair would benefit from trips like this." Joel let his arms dropped from his chest, positive that he'd overstepped the line. "Listen to me, I'm babbling and I had no right to suggest that. I'm sorry."
Ellison didn't respond immediately. Having confirmation from Joel that Blair wasn't a burden on their lives was reassuring, but the bottom line was that Blair was his responsibility and it had been drummed into him from a very early age that shirking one's responsibilities was looked upon as a failure. And while he'd never admit it, failing Blair scared him to death.
"So, we still on for dinner at least?" Joel's hopes at a positive response from Jim were becoming dashed, as were his hopes of his burgeoning friendship with Ellison. While he honestly enjoyed having Blair around, and it was true the antics of the youngster had added warmth to their house, he was also enjoying the added benefit of getting to know a man who many considered to be unapproachable.
"You want me to drop by the store and pick anything up?" Ellison finally answered.
"You're coming?" Joel coughed, trying to mask the surprise in his voice. "I mean, you are coming! That's great, Jess'll be thrilled." Realising he must be sounding like an exuberant puppy at the pound, jumping around, displaying 'pick me, pick me," Joel made a hasty exit toward the door of the break room. "No need to bring anything and if you're ready to go by six, I'll meet you down in the garage and we can head out together."
"Sounds good," Ellison smiled. He tossed his coffee in the sink and rinsed out his cup. "Oh and Joel, I'll have to talk it over with Blair first, but I'm sure he'd be thrilled to have a room of his own at your place."
Joel's smile was brilliant. "I've just been picked," he chuckled softly as he made his way down the hall.
"Daddy, daddy, daddy!" The screen door was pushed open with such a force that it banged into the weatherboard cladding. Without seeming to notice, Blair barrelled down the path and crashed into this father's legs. "You early!" he exclaimed, lifting his arms to be picked up. "I made chocolate mud," he announced proudly.
"I can see that," Jim laughed, kissing away the chocolate evidence.
"No," Blair complained, wriggling away. "That make my face all wet."
"Hey, what about me?" Joel reached over to give the youngster a quick tickle. "Where's my welcome?"
Launching himself from his father's hold, Blair dived toward Joel. "Did you have a good day?" he asked seriously. "I did. I got a enbelope from Holly." He squirmed to be put down and as soon as his little feet hit the ground, he scooted back up the path and into the house, punishing once again the hinges on the screen door.
"Well, I don't know about you, Joel, but I'm exhausted just watching him."
"You know Jim, if they can't come up with a name for the next hurricane, I've got the perfect suggestion."
No sooner had their feet hit the floor inside the front door, than Hurricane Blair came blowing down the hall and presented his father excitedly with the envelope. "Look, dad, it says 'To Blair'," he announced as he handed it over. "What it say inside?"
Joel affectionately ruffled Blair's hair and made his way toward the kitchen, while Jim crouched down and gave his full attention to his son. Opening the envelope, he took out the handmade note. "It says, 'Dear Blair. It's Holly's 3rd birthday and we would love you to come to her party on Saturday, September 26th. We hope you can make it."
Blair squeezed in between his father's legs and leaned back against his chest. "What that mean?" he asked
"Well, Munchkin, it means that your friend Holly is having a birthday party and would like you to be there to help her celebrate."
"Why?" Blair pushed a wayward curl out of his eyes. "What's a birthday party?"
Jim's heart sank. His little boy had obviously never celebrated his birthday.
"Blair, honey." Having heard the conversation from the kitchen, Jessie decided that now might be a good time to distract Blair. "Joel wants to know if you would like to help him ice the cake?" she asked as she wiped her hands on her apron.
Blair pushed himself out from between Jim's legs. "Can I lick the spoon?"
"You sure can, honey, but you better be quick; you know how much Joel loves chocolate."
Forgetting the invitation and his question about birthday parties, Blair gave Jim a quick kiss and scampered off toward the kitchen.
"So, I guess you heard?" Stuffing the note back into the envelope, Jim hoisted himself off the floor.
"When is Blair's birthday, Jim?"
"Believe it or not, it was the day his mother left him at my door. Talk about timing. It was his third birthday and I didn't even know."
"Well then, we're only a few months late," Jessie said, encouragingly. "It's not too late to give him a party of his own. We can have it here. The backyard's plenty big enough and we can invite some of his little friends from daycare, and of course we will need to invite some of the people from Major Crimes. The catering won't be a problem, and I can bake a cake. I have a recipe for a cake I know he'll adore, and he can even help me organise the invitations."
Jim put a sudden stop to Jessie's enthusiasm. "Jessie, I know you mean well, but I don't know if a party is such a good idea. You heard him; he doesn't even know what a birthday is and I'm honestly not sure if he could cope with all the fuss. He's only just starting to get used to the changes in his life, and I think that a party might be a bit overwhelming, considering that he has no idea what to expect. He's not used to being the centre of attention. Sure, he's fine here with you guys and with Simon, but surely you've noticed how shy and withdrawn he becomes when he's faced with a big group of people. It's almost as if he thinks that if he doesn't draw attention to himself, then no one will notice him and they will leave him alone. I just think that a party with a whole bunch of kids will be too much for him, given all the other things he's trying to adjust to."
"I guess I was a little over enthusiastic," Jessie apologised. "But having said that, I also think we need to be careful of not falling into the trap of being under enthusiastic."
"What do you mean?"
"Jim, I understand your concerns about not throwing Blair into the thick of things, but I feel it's important that he's introduced to as many normal, everyday situations as possible. If you feel that a party is too much, would you consider inviting a few of your close friends over for a barbeque? We could still have a cake, but keep the whole thing very casual. This way his third birthday party could be an introduction to a bigger one next year," she said hopefully.
In his heart, Jim knew she was right. Blair did need to experience everything that life had to offer, and if they were ever going to get past what he had been through, they both had to move forward. "You're right again," he said. "Am I ever gonna get the hang of this?"
Jessie smiled warmly. "Jim, you had the hang of this the first time you held that little boy in your arms. Being left with you on his birthday was the best present that child could have ever received." She squeezed his arm gently. "Now we better get into that kitchen before the scallywag eats all of the cake." Leading the way down the hall, she called over her shoulder. "And by that, I don't mean Blair."
Jim pushed out his chair and started collecting the dinner dishes. "That was a great dinner, Jessie. I can't remember the last time I ate so well."
"Well then, perhaps we should make it a regular Friday night occasion," she said, hopefully.
"If you're not careful, I just might take you up on that offer."
"That's what offers are there for," she smiled.
"Hey Jim, do you want to come out to the shed and see my latest project?" Joel flashed a hopeful look in his wife's direction, hoping she'd release them from doing the dishes.
"Go on," she said, shooing them both away. "It'll get done quicker without you two under my feet anyway."
Following Joel's lead, Jim plucked his beer off the kitchen table. "Let me just check on Blair first," he said. Quiet murmurs came from the direction of the lounge as Blair lay on the rug in front of the television. One arm was tucked up under a pillow and the other firmly hooked around Big Bird. Snippets of the conversation he was having with the stuffed toy told Ellison that the youngster was firmly ensconced in the nature program he was watching and probably wouldn't even notice he was gone. Deciding to make a quick detour to the bathroom first, Jim put his beer down on the coffee table and headed down the hall. The scene that greeted him on his return had him stopping in his tracks. With his mouth already into gear before his brain had time to slam on the brakes, words poured out like blood from an open wound. "Blair, put that down!" To any other child his reprimand would have seemed strict, but not threatening, but Blair wasn't just 'any other' child and the look on his face told a story of pure survival. Reacting on this instinct, Blair dropped the beer bottle and made a beeline for the front door. He was through it and down the front steps before Jim had even moved.
"Shit," Ellison swore, his own feet taking flight. "Blair," he yelled, not even considering that the youngster wouldn't be able to distinguish an anxious voice from an angry one.
Joel intercepted Jim on the porch. "Jim, what's wrong?"
"Where's Blair?" Jessie asked, following close behind her husband.
"He took off," Jim scanned the front yard in desperation. "He had my beer bottle in his mouth when I came out of the bathroom and I raised my voice and told him to put it down. The next thing I knew, he was out the door."
Jim took the stairs two at a time. "Blair, it's daddy. I'm sorry I raised my voice, baby, but you have to believe that I'd never hurt you." He jogged down the path, stopping at the gate in an effort to try and scan the dark street.
"Jim, the gate's still shut and it's too high for him to climb over that quickly." Joel spun around. "Jess, go next door to Norma's. He could have squeezed through the hole in the fence and her garden would make a perfect hiding place."
Jim suddenly pressed his hands to his ears. The pain in his head was intense, but the rest of his body was becoming strangely numb and unfeeling. He could clearly see the look of concern on Joel's face, but he couldn't hear the words from his lips, nor could he feel the touch of the other man's hand on his elbow. Even his own words were quiet and mute, except for the sound of a frantic, thump, thump, thump.
"The porch." Shaking off Joel's touch, he started back up the path. "He's under your porch." The bleak, damp, darkness acted like a cautionary tale of Blair's life, and its story poured out from the confined space like a best selling novel. Jim peered in through the darkness and at the back, crouched like a hurt and frightened animal, was his son.
"Ah, baby." Jim's hands were shaking as he reached out. "Chief, daddy's so very sorry he yelled at you. I didn't mean to frighten you and I didn't mean to get cross. I just didn't think, kiddo." Blair was out of his reach and he was unable to squeeze any further into the small space. "I know you're a little scared, Chief, but you need to come out. Can you come out to daddy, Blair?"
Even though Blair was looking and listening, he made no attempt to move from the safety of his hiding place, and knowing that there was no way of reaching the child unless he did a major demolition job on Joel's front porch, Jim decided to change his tactics. "Chief, I need you to come out now, because I'm getting really sad and really, really lonely without you." He knew he was manipulating the child, but the fear creeping through him was becoming too great to ignore. If Blair didn't come out soon he actually thought he might have to rearrange Joel's front porch. "Blair," he said softly. "Remember how daddy fell down at the DA's office. Well I think that might happen again if you don't come out, baby."
This time, Blair lifted his head from his knees. "Daddy," he said, hesitantly. "Are you all right?"
"No," Jim shook his head. "No baby, I'm not all right. I need you kiddo. I need you to come out."
For Jim, watching Blair crawl out of the darkness was like watching grass grow. But finally, after inch by slow, arduous inch, Blair's hand touched his own. He folded Blair into his body and held on. He had nothing left, but to hold on.
"Goodnight, Munchkin." Jim had lifted his sleeping son from the car seat and made his way up to the loft without so much as a stir. The turmoil of the night had left them both physically and emotionally exhausted and laying Blair gently on the bed, he'd managed to removed the grubby play clothes and dress the youngster warmly in his pyjamas. I must be getting good at this, he thought, as Blair still didn't flinch. Tucking the Blair snugly under the covers, he smiled as Blair unconsciously latched onto Big Bird. "Sleep tight, baby," he whispered as be bent down and placed a kiss on the child's brow. Flicking on the night-light, Jim left the door slightly ajar before settling down in front of the TV.
Deep in the early hours of the morning, Ellison was abruptly awakened by a piercing scream. Not even really awake, he felt his feet hit the floorboard and then the tread of the stairs. By the time he'd reached the little room under the stairs, Blair had left his bed and had squeezed himself into the small space between the dresser and the wall. "No Tom," he screamed. "I sayed no!"
Fighting every single urge that was baring down on him, Jim kept his distance. "Blair, its okay, baby," he said, kneeling down so his face was in his son's line of vision. "Tom's not here, sweetheart. Only daddy." Cautiously he reached out, only to have his hand slapped away.
"No no, no, go away. If you go away, I won't tell mama. I promise I won't."
If Jim Ellison had one wish to make with regard to Tom Walsh, it would be that the bastard was alive so he could have the distinct pleasure of killing him in a thousand different ways. Swallowing hard, he tried again, and this time he successfully managed to cup Blair's cheek within the palm of his hand. "Baby, it's daddy," he crooned.
Through a rough, fractured voice, Blair acknowledged his father's presence. "Daddy," he rasped. "Tom is in my room."
"No, sweetheart, Tom's not here. It's just a bad, bad, dream." He coaxed Blair closer. "Tom's gone, remember, and he's never coming back."
Lifting his hands and uncurling his fists, Blair palmed Jim's cheek. "And you won't hurt me... you won't hurt me?" he sobbed.
His heart had been broken before, but never like this. Blair's words were a question, not a statement. His little boy still didn't feel safe. In his home, his own room, the child's demons still chased after him.
Blair began to shake and his bladder released and still he asked the same question. "You won't hurt me?" he whispered.
Ignoring the puddle of urine on the floor and the soaking wet pyjamas, Jim reacted the only way he knew how. He plucked Blair off the floor and drew him into his chest. "I would never hurt you, Munchkin. I may get a little cross sometimes, but I would never, ever hurt you."
Blair nodded his head against the nape of his neck, and Jim took it as a sign that, for tonight at least, the demons where at bay. "Come on, kiddo," Jim said softly. "Let's get you cleaned up." Lifting Blair up as he stood, he grabbed a clean pair of pyjamas from the dresser and headed toward the bathroom. Once there, he was very careful with his actions. "Chief, I need to give you a quick cleanup and to do that I'm going to take off your wet pyjamas. Is that okay with you?"
Blair's reaction was one he was half expecting. Still obviously not able to distinguish memories of the past from here and now, he latched onto the top of his pyjamas. "No, I don't want to take them off."
"It's okay baby," Jim assured, running his hand up and down the length of his son's spine. "I won't do anything you don't want me to do." And it was true. He wouldn't cross that line if Blair said no. If they both had to stand in the bathroom all night long, he'd do exactly that, because those pyjama pants would not be coming off until Blair gave his permission for it to happen. Finally, Blair wrapped one arm around his neck and Jim's strokes along his son's back became slower and more rhythmic. "Hey, kiddo, do you remember your book? Remember all the fun things that daddies do with their sons?" Blair nodded slightly, and his other arm shot up to latch onto Jim's neck. "Remember how they go to the park, and how they go fishing and horse riding. Do you remember what else they do, Chief?"
"Ah, ha," Blair whispered.
Jim jiggled Blair slightly. "What else do they do, Chief?" he prompted.
"They play in the mud," Blair murmured against his neck.
"That's right, they play in the mud. And when they play in the mud the little boy gets all dirty so his daddy has to give him a bath." Keeping his voice gentle and even, Jim continued. "Remember what you told me, Blair? You told me that it's okay for daddies to give their little boys a bath. Can you remember that?"
"I 'member," Blair replied softly.
"So do you think it might be okay for your daddy to give you a bath?"
It was slight and it was hesitant, but it was a definite nod.
"Okay then." Jim leaned over and turned on the faucet. "But to do that I'm going to have to take off your pyjamas. Is that okay?"
There was a slight hitch in his voice, but Blair answered 'yes.'
Knowing he had no chance of removing Blair's arms completely from around his neck, Jim worked around the youngster's reluctance and soon had both top and bottoms stripped off. As the cold night air touched Blair's skin, Jim instinctively pulled him in closer to his own body. "Okay, buddy, here we go." Lifting Blair up and over the rim, he plucked a washcloth from the side of the bath and ran it under the faucet. His gut told not to touch Blair intimately, so he simply trickled the warm water over his son's skin, repeating the procedure a couple of times until at least most of the urine had been washed away. A more thorough soak in the tub could wait until tomorrow. It could wait until his son's world was back in balance.
Now wrapped in an oversize towel and feeling safe and secure in his father's arms, Blair lifted his head from Jim's shoulder. "I sleep in your bed?"
Jim knew that if he answered 'yes' he was probably doing the wrong thing, but he just couldn't bring himself to leave Blair alone. Other parents would likely tell him that all kids had nightmares and when they did, they needed to stay in their own beds. But Blair wasn't just any other child. In his short little life, he had been through more than anyone should ever have to go through -- in any lifetime, and when it came to Blair, he was finding he was having a hard time saying 'no'. So far Blair had refused to talk to anyone about his life with Naomi and so they were all pretty much running blind when it came to knowing how to react to certain situations. Both Jessie and Blair's teacher, Nicole Dickson, were getting there, slowly, but he was so far behind them in knowing what to do, at times he felt like he was failing the youngster. He'd naively thought that love alone could 'fix' Blair, but on nights like tonight, he realised just how very wrong he was and how they both had such a long way to go before Tom Walsh would be dead and buried for good. Blair yawned against his neck and Jim brushed a kiss against his temple. "You know what, I think that's a good idea, Munchkin. How 'bout we go ask Big Bird if he wants to come as well?"
Blair's eyes were drifting shut and Jim knew, that for now at least, they'd won this round. "Come on, tough stuff," he whispered. "Let's get you warm and into bed."
A knock on the front door had Jim's eye blinking open. Taking a few seconds to get his bearings, he untangled himself from the human blanket that was draped over him and grabbed his robe. By the time his foot hit the bottom stair, he already knew that it was Simon on the other side.
"Hey, I heard you had a rough night." Simon didn't wait for an invitation to enter. "I brought doughnuts," he said.
"Thanks," Jim replied. He breathed in deeply, "Buttermilk."
"Would I dare bring you any other kind?" Simon stripped off his jacket and headed toward the kitchen to make coffee. "So, how's the squirt?"
Jim slumped down on the kitchen chair. "Well, thanks to dear old dad, he had a pretty rough night." He scrubbed his hand roughly over his face, hoping the action would at least take away some of the bone deep weariness he felt.
"Thanks to you 'how'?" Simon asked.
"Joel must have told you that I yelled at him and that's why he took off."
"Joel told me that you raised your voice, just like any other parent in the same situation would have."
"Simon, Blair is not like every other child -- you know that. I have to be really careful of how I treat him and what I say to him."
"So, basically what you are saying is that you are going to walk on eggshells around him for the rest of his life and let him do exactly what he wants."
"No, it's not like that, but he is special and I am saying that he does need to be treated differently."
"Jim, are you listening to yourself? Yes, Blair is special, but he is still a child and he's going to need rules and guidelines. I understand that you feel the need to protect him after everything he's been through, but the bottom line is that if you don't set up some basic rights and wrongs now, you are going to have one very out of control little person living with you and you'll be setting yourself up for years of struggle and grief."
"Simon, if you could have seen his reaction to me last night, or if you had been here, dealing with the nightmare he went through because of me, then you'd be thinking differently."
Simon pulled out the kitchen chair and took a seat. "Jim, firstly, he did not have a nightmare because of you and secondly, I'm not saying that you need to yell, scream and hit the child. I mean, if you did, I'd be the first one you'd have to deal with, followed by a long, long line of very pissed off cops."
Jim's head shot up and he looked at Simon in surprise.
"What, you think that you are the only one who loves that boy, Ellison?" Banks responded gruffly.
"Well, no. I assumed that Jessie and Joel care about him, I just didn't figure that you... I mean, I kind of gathered that you liked him, but I just didn't..."
"Love the child?"
"Well, yeah, I guess."
Simon roughly pushed out his chair and headed back toward the coffee machine. "And I call you one of my best," he groused. Snatching two mugs, he avoided Jim's eyes. "Anyway, enough of that and back to Parenting 101. What you need to do, Ellison, is talk to Blair and let him know what is acceptable and make sure he clearly understands what behaviour is unacceptable. The kid's probably been left to his own devises and has never been set any real boundaries before. Chances are he probably had no idea that drinking beer was wrong. Who knows how many times he's been allowed to drink the stuff, or what else he's been allowed to do?" Simon wandered back over to the table and placed a mug of coffee in front of Jim. "What I'm saying is that even though Blair is a great kid, there will be times when he's tired and grumpy and when he'll push you to your limits. So, therefore, you need to have a plan of action in place."
"A plan of action." A wry smile drifted across Ellison's face. "You're making it sound like I have a terrorist on my hands, not a three year old."
"Not a terrorist, but I can guarantee that there are going to be times when you will have a terror on your hands."
"So, what plan of action do you suggest, 'oh Capitan'?" Jim straightened his back and gave Simon a quick, curt salute.
"Well smartass... if you're interested, I always found that the best plan of action was time out."
"You're kidding. You want me to have the kid sit in the corner facing the wall!"
"You sure you didn't miss your calling as an actor, Ellison?" Simon rolled his eyes. "Drama queen," he muttered. "Time out means a few minutes alone in his room to think about what he's done wrong."
What Simon had said did make sense, although he still knew in his heart that there was always going to be a very fine line with Blair, and he had to make damn sure that he never stepped over it.
Leaving Jim to ponder his thoughts for a few minutes, Simon drained the last of his coffee. "Look, why don't you go and grab a shower, and when Blair's awake, I'll take you both out for a late breakfast." Simon started heading toward the small room under the stairs. "You want me to check on him?"
"He not in there," Ellison responded. "He's upstairs in my bed and before you say anything, he needed me last night and I was not going to turn him away
"Jim, I'm not here to pass judgement, only here to offer what I know and what I know is that little boy needs love and security. Once he understands that he's always gonna get that from you, then everything else will fall into place. There are no absolute rights or wrongs to bringing up kids. Sometimes you just gotta go with your gut. Now go," he encouraged. "Shower, because I've starving."
Simon didn't notice that Blair was awake until a pair of little arms wrapped around his legs. "Hey Squirt, I didn't hear you," he said, gently ruffling a mop of curls. "I was just unpacking the dishwasher for your dad." He knelt down to Blair's eye level. "You still sleepy?"
"Ah ha," Blair nodded. "I had a bad dream."
"I know kiddo, dad told me. Do you want to tell me about it?"
"Nope." Blair leaned in for a hug and making Simon feel blown away by the level of affection the youngster displayed toward him. Sure, he'd known the kid as long as Jim, and even looked after him on several occasions, but the trusting and loving nature of the boy still amazed him. After everything you've been through I feel very privileged to be included in your circle of trust, he thought as he strongly returned the hug.
"You know, Squirt, sometimes it helps to talk about what makes us scared." Simon lifted Blair into his arms. "If you don't want to talk to your dad, you could always talk to me, or Jessie or even Mrs Dickson. We all care about you very much and only want you to be happy."
Receiving absolutely no answer or even an indication that Blair was listening, Simon stopped talking and just held the child tightly. Blair's eyes slowly drifted closed, making Simon smile. "Well, looks like it may be a late lunch," he said, placing a kiss on top of the curly mop.
It had been a rough week and as Jim dropped Blair off at day care, he prayed that the last day of the working week would fly by fast. Noticing that for once, Blair wasn't clinging to him, he managed to slip away quietly before Blair had a chance to make a fuss over his leaving. He'd nearly reached the final door, when the centre's director caught up with him. "Jim, can I have a word?" she asked.
"Sure," he said, tentatively. "What's wrong? Has Blair done something he shouldn't have?"
Lightly touching his arm, Nicole directed him away from Blair's classroom. "Would you mind coming into my office?"
With alarm bells ringing in his head, Jim followed obediently behind. "What's wrong?" he asked anxiously as soon as the door was shut.
"I was actually hoping that you could answer that for me," she responded, settling behind her desk.
"I'm not sure I follow?"
"Well, for a start, have you looked in the mirror lately? From where I'm sitting it looks as if you haven't slept in a week and I'm betting that Blair's nightmares are the culprit."
"Partly," Jim answered, finally realising just how tired he was. "But it's not just that. Blair's begun wetting the bed, and no matter how many times I've tried to reassure him that it's okay, it always ends up in upset and tears. I don't know what else to do."
"Jim, given Blair's history, I'm not surprised by this. Bed wetting can be put down to a number of different reasons, but I'd say his reaction to it is more likely tied up with bad memories. If he wet the bed while with his mother, who knows what punishment he received."
"So what do I do... now that he's with me?"
"Not much I'm afraid, until he begins to realise that there won't be any dire consequences resulting from his accident. And, in the meantime, I'd strongly suggest that you buy some pull ups and put those on him before bed. At the very least it'll save you a lot of washing."
Jim shook his head. "Nicole, I really think putting him back in diapers would cause more of a problem than it would solve."
"They're not diapers Jim, more like padded underpants. He probably won't even know the difference, and this way, if he does have an accident, one, they'll keep him dry so chances are he won't even wake up and two, if he does wake up, dry sheets and bedding always help lessen the shame associated with bed wetting."
"Maybe your right," Ellison shrugged. "Guess it couldn't hurt to give it a go." Drawing himself to his feet, he stretched out his back muscles. "Thanks for caring about him," his said.
"Jim, just one more thing before you go. Apart from the bed wetting, how are things going at home?"
"Fine. Why do you ask?"
"Because I get the feeling that you are being too overprotective with him." Holding up her hand before Jim could speak, she continued. "I don't want you taking this the wrong way and I fully understand how hard it is to bring up an abused child, but if you're pussyfooting around him and treating him differently, in the end you'll not only be doing yourself a disservice, but you'll be bringing up a child who will have no idea of his place in this world or giving him the experience he needs to fit in with mainstream society." She tapped her pen lightly on the desk. "Let me ask you a question, Jim. Has Blair ever seen you naked?"
"No, why would he?" Jim asked, feeling suddenly defensive.
"Because it's normal and if you had a son who had never been sexually abused, would you even think twice about getting changed in front of him, or taking him into the shower with you at this age?"
"I don't know," Jim shrugged, now knowing exactly where she was headed. "Probably not," he finally answered honestly. "I most likely wouldn't even give it a second thought."
"That's exactly right, you wouldn't. Just like any other parent wouldn't. It would be perfectly normal."
"Nicole, what exactly has bought this up? Has Blair said something to you?"
"No he hasn't, and that's my last concern. I can't get him to open up to me at all. How I became aware that there may be a problem is because I overhead a conversation between him and Holly."
"What did he say?"
"Holly was telling him how she had a bubble bath with her mom and Blair told her that it's not right to see grownups with no clothes. He told her that they do bad things to you when you have no clothes on. I stopped the conversation before it could go any further and got their minds on to other things, and when I asked Blair about it, he quite cleverly changed the subject. He's got a good defensive mechanism worked out and is very good at avoiding things he doesn't want to talk about."
Jim sunk back down on the chair. "I had no idea I was messing this up so badly," he said.
"You're not, and that wasn't what I was implying. My point was and is, that if Blair is ever going to get past the abuse he has suffered, he needs to be treated like a normal kid. He needs to know that he can see you naked and that it's okay -- that nothing bad will happen. Just like he needs to be told off and sent to his room if he's being naughty, because he needs to realise that he's not going to get hit. He's a tough, resilient little guy, Jim. He's proven that by making it this far in life and now, despite everything he's been through, he's also proven that he has an enormous heart and that he loves you very much. The more he settles in and becomes accustomed to normal, everyday life, the sooner he'll begin to realise, 'hey it's okay, he's my dad and no matter what I do, he will still love me and he won't hurt me'."
"Do you have any idea how many times I've tried to tell him that?" Jim said, quietly.
"I'm afraid that actions speak louder than words, and only first time experiences and time will build complete trust."
"And in the meantime?"
"In the meantime, just keep on loving him. That's all you can do until fear is no longer his first reaction."
"That I can do," Jim whispered. Loving Blair is the easy part. Gaining his trust is the difficult part.
"Hey, Chief," Jim placed a bowl of ice cream in front of Blair. "Are you excited about Holly's party tomorrow?"
"Ah ha," Blair answered as he mushed up his ice-cream with his spoon.
"Hey, guess what I bought when I was in the toy shop today?" Jim grabbed a package off the countertop and handed it to Blair.
"It a dolphin." Blair said, once all the paper was off. "What this for?" he asked. "And why does the dolphin have a key on its back?"
"Well you wind it up, like this and then the dolphin swims under the water. I thought you might like to try it out when you have your bath later on tonight."
"Can I have a bath now?" Blair asked, giving a little bounce.
"Sounds good to me, Munchkin. How about you finish your ice cream and I'll go and fill the tub."
With probably as much chocolate ice cream on his face as was in his stomach, Blair was in the bath in no time flat and was totally ingrossed in his new toy. "Now is as good a time as any," Jim muttered, reaching into the shower stall and turning on the faucet .
Looking up, Blair tracked his father's movements with interest. "What you doin' daddy?" he asked.
"I'm just gonna take a quick shower, Chief." Placing a bath mat on the tiles, he tried to be as casual and as normal as possible as he stripped off his clothes. But it didn't work. The look on Blair's face and the way his eyes kept darting toward the door, nearly had Jim stopping in his tracks. No, you can do this, he told himself. For Blair's sake you have to do this. Removing the rest of his clothes, Jim stepped into the shower. He knew that Blair could see him perfectly through the glass screen that separated the shower from the bathtub. Okay, what now? he thought. What's normal in this situation Taking a big breath he picked up the shampoo bottle, and began to sing.
"Oh the grand old Count of Eden
He has six hundred chickens
He walked them up to the top of the barn
And he walked them down again."
His eye's flickered toward Blair and he was slightly encouraged by the nervous giggle that came from the youngster.
"And when they're up they're down
And when they're down they're up
And when they're only half way there,
they're neither down nor up."
Blair's giggles increased as his fear factor was slowly taking a back seat. "Them the wrong words, daddy," he said, with a slight hint of nervousness in his voice. "You singing the wrong words."
"What do you mean I'm singing the wrong words?" Jim turned to face his son, front on, his heart racing as his tried to gauge Blair's reaction.
"You singing the wrong words," Blair said again, seeming not to notice his father's naked body.
"Well, mister smarty pants, what are the right words?"
"They easy, daddy." Blair splashed the dolphin through the water and promptly started singing.
"Oh the grand old Duke of York he had ten thousand men.
He marched them up to the top of the hill.
And he marched them down again.
And when they up they up.
And when they down they down.
And when they neither half way up,
they neither up or down."
Blair's chorus of song had Jim relaxing considerably and in an effort to keep the atmosphere on track, he boomed in a loud, playful voice. "Are you sure they're the right words? I think my words sound better."
"No, daddy, you wrong, but don't worry I teach you."
"You will, will you?"
"Ah ha," Blair nodded confidently. "You just say what I sayed."
It wasn't long before laughter and singing filled the bathroom as two loud voices sang the correct words to the song.
With a towel wrapped around his waist, Jim plucked another off the rail. "Okay Chief, time to get out before you turn into a prune." Blair gave absolutely no resistance to being lifted out of the tub. He just kept singing happily.
"Now my little Munchkin, we've got time for one quick story and then it's time for bed." Jim carried Blair into the living room where he'd already laid out a pair of the youngster's pyjamas and a pair of his own sweats. Once again trying to be as 'normal' as possible, he dropped his towel and dressed himself without bringing any attention to what he was doing. Blair, however, obviously was paying attention. The idle chatter stopped and he just sat quietly on the coffee table, wrapped up in a big, white towel.
"You okay, Chief?" Jim asked, kneeling down and cupping Blair's cheek. "You're being awfully quiet."
"I okay," Blair replied, quietly, before lightly leaning into his father's touch.
"You know, kiddo, if you ever have a problem or if there is something you want to tell me, I'll always be here to listen. You don't have to be scared to tell me anything, buddy."
"Anything?" Blair whispered.
"Anything," Jim replied, opening up his arms for a hug.
Blair took up the invitation of open arms. "I love you, daddy."
"I love you too, baby." As he buried his nose in the freshly-washed curls, Jim took comfort in the unique scent that was his son.
"I getting cold," Blair finally said, giving a little shiver.
Jim let go. "Then let's get you all snug and warm." He picked up the child's pyjamas as well as a pair of pull ups he'd bought earlier in the day. As luck would have it, he'd been able to find ones that had pictures of all the Sesame Street characters plastered all over them and he hoped it might help with enticing Blair to wear them. "Look what I found when I was in the store today, Chief," he said handing them over. "They're special underpants, just for night time."
"Why?" Blair gave the pants a sceptical look.
"Well, because they will stop the bed getting wet in case you have an accident."
"No," Blair was adamant "I not wearing baby pants." His voice became anxious. "I promise I won't wet the bed, daddy. I promise, I promise."
"Munckin, they're not baby pants. Lots of kids your age wear them."
Blair eyed them again, this time his eye caught sight of Big Bird. "They do?" he asked, still cautious and doubtful.
"They sure do." Sensing that Blair was still uneasy and knowing that he hadn't quite yet sealed the deal, he upped the ante. "But if you want, this can be our little secret... just between you and me. What do you say?"
This time, Blair reached out and fingered the pants. "They got Big Bird," he said.
"They sure do."
"It will be okay to wear these 'cause I not want to get Big Bird all wet." Blair shimmied off the coffee table and steadied himself so Jim could slip them on. "And it will be our own secret?"
"Just between you, me and Big Bird, Short Stuff." Pulling up the pants, Jim tickled his son's stomach. "Perfect fit," he said, playfully grabbing Blair and blowing a big, wet raspberry on his stomach.
"Yuck," Blair complained, but as he tried to wiggle away, the smile never left his face.
They had just returned from Holly's party, which Jim had rated as a minor success. Blair had seemed okay at the start, even fairly eager, but as the hours went by and the kids grew more and more excited and hyped up on candy and soda, Blair backed away from the activities. Seeking refuge with his father, Blair would only participate in the games if Jim were there standing by his side. For once, he was glad that he had given in to his instincts and decided to stay.
With Blair now sitting on the mat in the middle of the floor with his hands covering his eyes, Jim had used the lingering party spirit to his advantage. "Are you sure you're not peeking," he called out from his room. "'cause I've got a big surprise but you have to keep your eyes cover."
"Nope, nope I not," Blair sang out. "I promise I not."
"Well good then." Jim bounded down the stairs and took a seat on the living room rug, right next to Blair. "Open you're eyes, Chief."
"What's that?" Blair looked, wide eyed at the brightly coloured box his father was handing to him.
"It looks to me like it might be a very special present for one very special little boy.
"A present?" Even though he had never received a present before, his experience at Holly's party had made this new concept a very exciting one. A big 'wow' escaped his lips. "A present for me?"
"Yep, just for you."
"How comed?" he asked. "It not my birthday." He thought for a moment. "Do I have a birthday?" he asked.
"Of course you do, Chief. Your birthday is on July 15th."
"But it not July 15th today. It September 26. I 'member, 'cause it sayed so on Holly's card."
"I know it's a little late, Munchkin, but I didn't know when your birthday was. So this year you get one present on September 26th and next year, when you're four, you'll get another one on July 15th."
"Anuther one, I get anuther one next year?" Blair stared at Jim in amazement. "Weally?"
Jim's face broke out in a smile. "You sure do," he laughed. "Now why don't you open up your present and see what's inside." He couldn't hide his contentment as Blair tore the wrapping paper from the box. If he's this excited about a birthday present, I can't wait to see him at Christmas, he thought.
"Look daddy, they blocks! Lots and lots of blocks. There's a truck, and a cow, and a horse, and a pig." Blair emptied the contents of the box all over the mat. "I going to build this," he announced pointing to the picture of a barn on the front of the box. Suddenly jumping to his feet, Blair dove into his father's arms, knocking him off balance. This the bestest present I ever got."
"You're very welcome, baby." Jim swung Blair up and gave him a quick tickle. "Now, pardner, how about we build us a barn?"
The next hour flew by as the two men concentrated on a harrowing building project and after many a block in the wrong place and turning out the oddest looking barn around, the excitement of the day began to finally catch up with Blair. Unable to stop yawning, he was also getting cranky and frustrated when the blocks wouldn't stay where he was trying to put them.
"Hey, Chief, how about we take time out for a little nap?" Jim finally suggested. "I think you're a bit tired, kiddo."
"No," Blair shook his head in determination. "I not tired and I not going to bed," he said, grumpily.
Not quite expecting that response, Jim was a little taken back. Blair had been pretty amicable and cooperative up until now, and this new attitude threw him a little. Deciding to go with both Simon's and Nicole's advice, he proceeded gently, but firmly. "Well buddy, I think you are tired and I think a nap will do you the world of good."
"No," Blair stated a little more loudly. "I still building."
"Blair, it's time for bed. When you've had a nap, you can come back out and play."
Frustration, brought about by exhaustion won out and Blair picked up a block and threw it across the room. "I said no, I not going to bed and you can't make me."
"Okay, young man." Jim said very calmly as he got to his feet. "It is time for bed." Reaching down to pick Blair up, Jim was even more stunned by the look on the youngster's face than he had been by his attitude. It was almost as if Blair were saying, 'I'm going to be naughty and the only way I'll do what you want is if you hit me.' If the situation weren't as serious as it was, it would almost have been laughable. A grown man was having a Mexican standoff with a stubborn three-year-old. Without another thought, Jim picked up Blair and carried him into his room. Pulling back the covers, he deposited him gently on the bed and kissed his forehead. "I'll see you in a couple hours, Chief."
"No," Blair kicked out. "I not want to see you, I want to see my mama." The dam broke and Blair curled himself up into a ball. "I want my mama," he cried as tears streamed down his face.
Knowing he couldn't give in, but knowing he couldn't walk away and leave Blair in the state he was in, Jim pulled his son onto his lap. I seem to remember doing this once before, he thought, sadly. Automatically rocking back and forth, he held Blair tight. "Sweetheart, I know it's hard and I know at times you miss your mama, but you live with me now and I'm trying real hard to be a good dad." He rested his cheek on Blair's head. "But I can't do it by myself, kiddo. I need your help. I know there are going to be times when I make some rules that you're not going to like, but I'm only doing it because I love you, kid. And I also know that there will be times when you'll get angry about my rules, I'm sorry if you think I'm mean, but I am your dad and when I tell you to do something it's for a good reason." He squeezed Blair just a little bit tighter. "But you have to remember this, Chief. No matter what, I will never, ever do anything to hurt you."
Silence followed for a long while, until eventually Blair mumbled a quiet apology.
Taking that as a victory in round one, Jim laid Blair back down on the bed and pulled up the covers.
"I say I sorry," Blair said, sadly. "I not want to sleep."
Tucking Big Bird in next to his son, Jim didn't budge. "Well, if you don't want to sleep, you can just lay here for a little while and rest, but you're not to get out of bed until I tell you, okay?"
"'suppose," Blair muttered, before flipping on to his side.
Returning to the room a few minutes later, a satisfied father was relieved to find his son, sound asleep. I think I just got an A in Parenting 101, he mused.
Blair awoke from his nap, refreshed and reasonable. The smile on his face and the eager bounce in his step, told Jim that the earlier events of the day appeared to have been forgotten. But the whole theory of counting chickens before they hatched was proven just around bed time.
"How come you didn't smacked me?" Blair asked, just as Jim was about to announce, 'the end' to the story he was reading.
A little surprised, Jim thought before answering. "Why would I smack you, Chief?"
"'Cause," Blair said, with an authoritarian nod of his head. "I was naughty and when you naughty you get smacked."
"Who told you that, Munckin?"
"Tom."
"And did Tom smack you?"
It took Blair a little while to respond to the question and Jim thought that once again his son was going to clam up and refuse to answer.
"Ah ha," he finally replied. "Tom smacked me hard. It hurt."
Jim reeled in his anger. "Where did he smack you, Chief?"
"On my legs and my bottom... and my tummy. Sometime he hit my face. It make me cry when he hit my face." Blair unconsciously rubbed his cheek. "My arm got hurt once and mama took me to the doctor. The doctor put a funny white thing on my arm to make it better. I don't like it when Tom smacked me, but Mama say if I not make Tom mad then he not hit me. Sometimes even when I was real good, Tom still got mad."
Although it was killing him, Jim decided not to probe any further This was the first time that Blair had divulged any information about his abuse, and he didn't want to rush him or force too many bad memories to come flooding back at once. They sat quietly, side by side on the youngster's bed, until Blair spoke again.
"If I be'd really, really naughty, daddy, then you smack me?"
Jim reacted. "No" he said, pulling Blair up so he was straddling his lap. "Even if you are really, really naughty I will not smack you. I might get cross and send you to your room, but I will never smack you -- not ever."
Blair's face took on a strange expression and all Jim could think of was -- What's going on in that head of yours kiddo?
"Can I play poker too?" Blair studied carefully the poker chips that Jim had put on the table.
"'Fraid not, kiddo. This game is just for grownups." He ruffled Blair's inquisitive head. "Tell you what, though. You can stay up a bit later tonight and have some pizza with the guys. How does that sound?"
"Way cool." Blair bounced on his chair with a big smile on his face. "Can we have one with mushrooms, I love mushrooms."
"Sure we can," Jim smiled. He was still amazed by some of the food that the three year old loved to eat. Blair always seemed to pick fruit and vegetables over junk food.
As the first knock on the door progressed to two, then three, and finally four, Blair sat with Joel, Simon, Henri and Rafe, as they shared three large pizzas. After chatting continuously with the guys and showing each one of them his barnyard project, Jim was relived to see that Blair, although nestled very close to Simon, was finally beginning to overcome the shyness he exhibited when he first met Henri and Rafe.
"Okay kiddo, time for bed." It was time for poker and time for Blair to be asleep.
"Can I stay up and watch a video, daddy... please? I be real good and real quiet, I promise."
"Yeah, please daddy, let him stay up," Henri teased.
"Jim, how can you say 'no' to that face?" Rafe added.
"Guys, you're not helping," Jim growled. But they were right. It was Friday night and they didn't have to be up early in the morning, so there was no real reason why Blair couldn't stay up a little while longer. Finally giving into the look, coming from Henri and Rafe, more so than his son, Jim relented. "You can stay up and watch one video and when it's finished it's straight to bed."
"Way cool." Blair left his safety zone by Simon's side and headed straight to his room to pick out his favorite video.
"Where did he learn that expression?" Simon asked.
A chorus of 'Daryl,' filled the room.
"Oh," was all Simon said as he picked up the empty cartoon and headed into the kitchen. "Hadn't we better get this game underway?"
Gathering up the poker chips from the very lucrative hand he'd just won, Jim glanced over at Blair. No longer sitting on the couch, he was now standing by the coffee table lifting a bottle of beer that had been left there by one of the guys up to his lips. Reacting very calmly, Jim kept his voice low. "Blair, put that down please," he said.
Startled briefly by his father's voice, Blair looked up but made no attempt to put the bottle down. "Blair, I'm going to ask you one more time. Put that back down on the table."
"I 'lowed to drink beer." Blair tried in vain to mask his face. "Tom sayed I can drink it."
"He's testing you," Simon whistled, under his breath.
"I know." Jim replied, while still keeping his eyes firmly on Blair. "Actually, what he's doing is trying to make me mad enough to smack him." Pushing back his chair and getting to his feet, Jim approached calmly and spoke calmly. "Blair, would you please bring that bottle over here to me. We've talked about this and in this house little boys don't drink beer."
Blair gave his father a defiant look as he raised the bottle to his lips and took a gulp. Four stunned faces looked on, never expecting that from the youngster.
Moving quickly, Jim plucked the bottle from the child's hand. "Blair, you have made me angry and you have made me very, very cross." He deliberately embellished his words, trying to get through to Blair that even though he was angry, he still wouldn't lay a finger on him. "Blair, I want you to go to your bedroom, please, and I want you to think about what you have done. You are to stay in there until I say you can come out."
Jim could literally see Blair's body shake with frustration as the child wiped away the tears that were pooling in his eyes -- but still the little boy stood his ground. "Give it back, I want it," he said. "You can't tell me what to do. I don't love you... I want Tom. Tom lets me drink beer."
"Blair, go to your room, now!" Jim's body was ridged and he forced himself not to shake. "Don't make me pick you up and carry you in there."
Blair looked into his father's eyes and then over to the four men who were looking at him with a mixture of surprise and disappointment on their faces. With his anger and frustration finally reaching the boiling point, he took off into his room and threw himself on the bed. "I hate you," he screamed into his pillow. "I hate you, I hate you, I hate, and I don't love you no more."
"Well, I love you and no matter what, I always will." Jim wasn't far behind and he pulled the covers over his son, before switching on the night light and leaving the room.
Simon was first to intercept him. "He doesn't mean it, you know, he's just angry and confused."
"I know, but it still hurts." Jim turned to his boss and best friend. "Who would have thought that those three little words could hurt so much and that in reality he probably really doesn't know how much I do love him."
"He does." Forgetting that they were in a room full of men, Simon laced his arm around Jim's shoulder. "He's just confused and hurt and testing the water, and I can guarantee you that this is not going to be the last time he's gonna push your buttons to get a reaction." Simon's touch remained. "Jim, it's gonna take a while before he realises that things are different with you... that you're not like Tom, but the way you handled this situation, right now, must have given him some indication of what he can expect from his father." He gave Jim's shoulder a squeeze. "Now come on... I need to win some of my money back."
Jim couldn't leave it lay so easily. He turned to the other men who had been tracking his every move since the incident began. "Guys, I'm really sorry. Blair doesn't normally behave like that and maybe it's just best if we call it a night."
Surprisingly, Henri was the first to react. "Jim, we all know what a good kid Blair is. It was just a tantrum, a pretty good one I must admit, but a tantrum all the same. I bet you there's not a three-year-old on the planet who hasn't had one."
Ellison shook his head. "It goes a lot deeper than a tantrum, H."
"How do you mean?" Rafe asked.
Jim looked at the circle of four men and knew that he couldn't keep Blair's secret secluded to only a few. If he were to get through this, if he was going to tackle head on the challenges of bringing up a child who'd been a victim of abuse, he needed support.
As the evening wore on, Jim Ellison realised two things. He realised what a difficult job single parenting was and he realised how amazing it was to be able to share it with true friends.
Jim heard, but didn't react to the tiny footsteps that padded up the stairs. He lay perfectly still and quiet as Blair clambered onto the bed and squirmed in next to him. And while he tried to remain quiet, his heart broke, as his son poured his heart out. "I sorry, daddy. I not want to go back to Tom and I didn't mean to be mean to you."
Blair's voice hitched. "I do miss mama, but she loves Tom and you loved no one but me."
Jim's heart quickened. After everything that had happened and even after Tom's death, Blair couldn't seem to separate his mother from the bastard. It was firm in his resolve before, but now it was resolute in his thinking. His son would never go back to his mother... not even for a visit.
Rolling over, Jim gathered Blair close. "You are a part of me, kiddo and a part that I would die for before I'd ever give you up." He tucked the covers tight around them both. "We're stuck like glue, Chief and it's a bond that will never be broken."
Blair nodded as he tried to burrow deeper into Jim's embrace.
"We'll never be broken," Jim whispered.
The day of Blair's unofficial birthday party had finally arrived and Joel's house was buzzing with excitement. "I'll just grab my keys." Joel madly patted his pockets, "I must have left them in my other pants," he mumbled.
Jim patted the older man's shoulder. "You just keep lookin' Joel and I'll go and see if the brat wants to come." Jessie was on a mission and a trip to the local store to pick up a few extra things, was at the top of her agenda. Jim looked playfully around the living room. "Now I know he's around here somewhere," he said, muttering like Joel. "You can't misplace a kid, but I can't seem to find him." Jim bent down to push more balloons out of the way and playfully picked Blair up by his feet. "How hard is it to find a Munchkin?" he mumbled, ignoring Blair and his giggles. "He should be right here, after all that's were I left him." Jim turned around and smiled as Joel entered the living room. "Joel have you seen Blair? I can't seem to find him anywhere."
"Nope, can't say that I have." Joel grabbed his chin and shook his head. "Maybe he's become invisible, Jim. Do you think that's possible?"
The three-year-old couldn't contain his laughter any longer and burst into a peel of giggles.
"Oh there you are." Jim lifted his hands high above his head and brought Blair's upside down face in line with his. "I was wondering where you got to."
"You silly, daddy," Blair laughed.
"I know, but you love me anyway."
Blair grabbed his father's face. "Ah ha, I do and 'cause I do I going to give you a big kiss." Blair placed his hand on either side of Jim's face and planted a big sloppy kiss on his cheek.
"Oh no, not puppy dog kisses." Jim turned his head, pretending to complain before lowering Blair to the floor. "So, Junior, you want to stay here or come to the store with Joel and me?"
"I stay and blow up balloons," Blair said.
"Okay then." Jim gave Blair a playful tap on the head. "We won't be long and you be a good boy and make sure you help Jessie."
On leaving the house, neither Joel nor Jim noticed the white van parked across the street.
"That's him," the female occupant drawled. "That's the pig that's keeping my baby from me."
"It's alright." The young man beside Naomi patted her leg. "It won't be long now. Your son's alone in the house with just the old women. It won't take much to get him outta there." He wrenched open the van door and hopped out onto the pavement. "We'll take him back with us and they'll never find him -- and even if they come looking, I promise you that I won't let his father get a hold of him again."
Naomi smiled sweetly at the naive young man. Oh to be so young and gullible, she thought. It won't be long now sweetie. Daddy's gonna to pay for what he's done to me. She gently closed the van door. It won't be long now, baby. Mama's back
The End