Maison Blanche Revisited

Chapter 7: Bitter Harvest

THE ROOM WAS LARGE, but over the past three hours Roman had come to know it intimately. A children's play area--unused at the moment--occupied one corner. In the opposite corner, a television droned quietly with coverage of the hurricane damage. Bookshelves and magazine racks held a variety of reading materials, a puzzle on a card table offered yet another diversion. Comfortable chairs and sofas were scattered throughout. The decorators of the room had tried to make it cheerful and welcoming with yellow walls and an abundance of plants, but Roman thought they were working against impossible odds. This was the ICU surgery waiting room: life and death struggles were being waged just a few feet down the hall. Bright paint could never dispel the dark mood of anyone who needed to be here.

John's family was alone at the moment, but that had not been the case an hour ago. A couple whose young daughter had been injured when the storm toppled a tree onto their house had departed in tears: their little girl had not survived the operation to repair her crushed chest. Her death had affected not only her parents, but the Bradys as well. Although the two families had known each other but a few hours, they had exchanged stories, and prayers, and words of encouragement. It was more difficult now not to imagine John's surgery having a similiar bleak outcome, even though the two cases had nothing to do with each other.

Roman's focus left the room and narrowed to the television and news of the hurricane. Overall, New Orleans had escaped relatively unscathed. Most of the damage was from downed trees and power lines. There had also been scattered flooding, but that was now receding, and once the roads were cleared and power restored, life for most would return to normal fairly quickly. The only fatality, thank God, appeared to be the poor little girl.

Sighing, Roman yawned and stretched his weary muscles. He desperately craved sleep, but so far it had refused to come. Whenever he tried, his mind just kept going round and round and round--wondering what he could have done to prevent this, worrying about John, worrying about Marlena, raging at Stefano... A nearby sofa beckoned invitingly and he wandered over. Stretching out along its length, he closed his eyes and willed his body to relax. Clear your mind, he told himelf. Concentrate on your breathing. Innnn . . . . . . outttt . . . . . . innnn . . . . . . outttt . . . . . . innnn . . . . . . outttt . . . . . . innnn . . . . . . outttt . . . . . .

He continued the slow, measured breathing--concentrating on that and only that--and finally, after several minutes, he became less aware of his body and his thoughts started to dim. He was just on the verge of the much needed slumber when approaching footsteps brought him back to wakefulness. Opening his eyes, he was about to give the intruder an earful for disturbing him when he saw who it was. "Oh, hi, Ma." he said tiredly, sitting up so she could join him on the sofa. "Any luck reaching Carrie yet?"

"I'm afraid not," she replied. "We left messages all over town, but like I said before, I don't think she and Austin are due back from Chicago till late this evening. Try not to worry," she said softly, reaching out to pat his hand. "She'll call just as soon as she gets the message. You know how dependable she is."

"I do know, Ma. She's the best daughter a man could ask for. And I also know who made her that way, and so do you. She loves John so much...and Marlena. This is going to hit her so hard; I hate having to tell her over the phone. She's going to need me, and I'm stuck here, absolutely useless!" He pounded his fist against the arm of the sofa in frustration.

"Oh, honey," she said quickly, "that's not true, and you know it. Bo told me what you did for John. He probably wouldn't be alive right now if it weren't for you. I'm so proud of you, son."

"You shouldn't be," he told her gruffly. "We both know...everybody here knows," he swept his arm out, indicating the rest of the family positioned around the room, "that John and Marlena might be safe at home right now if it wasn't for me. You all knew something was wrong, but I was so bitter and unforgiving I couldn't see it. I didn't want to see it. I'm so ashamed, Ma, especially after everything Dr. Rosenthal said."

His mother's face suddenly paled and she stared down at the floor, her lips pressed tightly together. "Are you all right?" he asked worridly, abandoning his self-recriminations. When she didn't respond, he reached out and touched her arm. "Ma, are you okay? You don't look very good. Maybe I should get a nurse." He started to get up, but she shook her head and motioned him back down. "No. I'm fine, Roman. Really. Just give me a minute." She raised her head to look at him, and he saw tears glittering on her cheeks.

"Oh, God," he said in chagrin, suddenly understanding what was wrong. "I'm sorry, Ma. I shouldn't have gone off like that. I know you've got your own stuff to deal with. You don't need me dumping my guilt trip on you as well."

"It's all right," she assured him, but her voice shook with emotion. "You need to talk about your feelings. We all do. Me especially. It was such a shock when you came home. I knew right away you were my son--there wasn't a doubt in my mind. But I loved John, too. I wanted to help him come to terms with it, so I lied to him...tricked him...to try and get him to see the truth. I made such a terrible mistake," she whispered brokenly. "He wasn't ready for the truth, let alone the way I did it. The look on his face, it was like I stabbed him in the heart. He thought I was rejecting him, that I wasn't even giving him a chance. I sent him over the edge: I could see it happening right in front of me. Something inside him just...snapped. That's when he tried to kill Victor. And he almost killed himself!" she cried. "Because of me, because of what I did! Oh, Roman!' she sobbed, "I can't bear it if he dies! How can I live with myself!?"

"It'll be okay, Ma." As Roman spoke, he put his arm around her shaking shoulders and drew her into a tight embrace. "You're not alone. Whatever happens, we'll face it together, as a family--just like always." He looked up at the sound of hurrying footsteps, and saw his brother and father rapidly approaching, identical looks of concern on their faces. He let Shawn take his place at Caroline's side, then motioned for Bo to join him over by a window.

"What happened?" Bo asked worridly as they watched their father comfort their sobbing mother.

"She's blaming herself," Roman sighed. "Just like we all are, I guess."

"Oh, damn, it's because of what I said, isn't it? Because of what I told Dr. Rosenthal. I never meant for her to take it like this. I know she didn't mean to hurt John. She just wasn't thinking too clearly back then...none of us were. Maybe that's what happened to Marlena," Bo offered tentatively. "Maybe she felt so guilty it affected her judgement. Do you think Rosenthal is actually going to pursue this malpractice thing?"

"I don't know." Roman jammed his hands into his pockets and stared sightlessly out the window. "I know he's right, Bo," he acknowleged regretfully. "I hate it, but he's right. Marlena's a good doctor, but she never should have been treating John. In a way, part of the responsibility is mine. From the very beginning, I knew it was wrong, I felt it in my gut. I asked her to let someone else do it, but she felt so guilty, was so desperate to help him, that I didn't press it. I should have stopped her."

"Stopped her!?" Bo said incredulously. "How? Marlena's a grown woman, Roman. She's just as stubborn as you are, if not more so. There's no way you could have stopped her, short of locking her up, and that's Stefano's M.O., not yours. She made some bad choices, bro, and she's going to have to face the consequences, just like the rest of us."

"I know. It's just that for her, those consequences could be so bad. The rest of us just have to live with our guilty consciences. That's going to be hard enough, but she could lose her medical license. I don't want that, and I know John wouldn't either. It would kill her not to be able to practice medicine anymore."

"I wish there was something I could do, man. Right now, though, it's all up to Rosenthal. He was really angry with her. I think the only thing that might make him back off would be if prosecuting her adversely affected John's recovery."

"Well, whatever Rosenthal does, Marlena's not going to go through it alone. I'm going to be there for her every step of the way. First, though, we have to find her. I think I'll call Maison Blanche and see how the forensics team is doing." He started to walk toward the door--and the phones just outside--when Bo stepped in front of him.

"Why don't you wait a bit, bro. It's not even half-an-hour since you called the last time. Give them a chance to do their work. Franklin promised he'd call if they found anything."

"I know, but--"

"But nothing. Go lie down, Roman. Try to get some sleep. We've still got a long way to go. The nurse said John would probably be in surgery for at least another two hours."

"Two hours. God, that seems like forever." Roman ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "I hate this waiting. I want to be out there doing something, anything."

"I know," Bo soothed. "So do I. But Mom and Pop need us here."

"You're right. I--" He paused suddenly as a small, shrill sound came from the other side of the room. He watched closely as Victor reached into his jacket, pulled out his cell phone and put it to his ear. Moments later, Victor gestured to him and he hurried over.

Victor handed him the phone. "It's Carrie," he said quietly. "Tell her I'll send the jet for her if she wants to come."

Roman nodded, and walked over by the windows to have some privacy while steeling himself for the conversation he dreaded. Taking a deep breath, he put the instrument up to his ear. "Hi, Punkin. It's Dad."

"Daddy?" Her voice was puzzled and nervous. "Grandma left a message on my machine saying she and Grandpa had to go to New Orleans on an emergency and I was supposed to call this number. That was Victor Kiriakis who answered. What's wrong? What's going on?"

"I'm afraid I have some bad news, sweetheart. About John and Marlena."

"How bad?" she gulped, her breath catching in her throat. "Were they in an accident? Are they...?" She left the sentence unfinished, but he knew what she was trying to say.

"It wasn't an accident. It turns out they weren't on a cruise at all. I'm sorry, Punkin," he said gently. "Stefano DiMera had them."

"Noooo!!" she wailed, then a clatter indicated she had dropped the receiver. She was back on the line in seconds. "Tell me," she said hoarsely.

His heart breaking for his eldest daughter, Roman related the grim details. "I followed a drug courier to Stefano's plantation in New Orleans, where Kristen was holding that cotillion. We got a search warrant, but we didn't find the courier. We found John instead, shackled and unconscious in the basement. He'd been there for over two months. He was drugged and tortured the whole time. Mom and Pop, and Victor and Kate, and Bo and I are with him at the hospital now. He's in critical condition. When we found him, he was dying from dehydration and starvation. He has a fractured skull. He was brainwashed again. He has severe liver and kidney damage from the drugs. The doctors are doing all they can--in fact, he's in surgery right now--but they don't think he'll make it. I'm sorry, Punkin," he repeated over her stifled sobs. "I'm so very sorry."

"Are you?" she quavered. "Are you really? You hate John. This should be making you really happy."

"Oh, Carrie," he groaned. "So much has happened since yesterday. I've been wrong about so many things. Especially about John. I don't hate him anymore. I promise. I want him to live."

"You should have gone with him," she said bitterly. "Marlena told me he asked you to, but you wouldn't. If he dies, it's your fault." Then she gasped. "Marlena! What happened to Marlena!? You said you found John. Where's Marlena!?"

"I don't know," he choked through the lump in his throat. "Stefano left and took her with him. They've been gone for at least a week. No one knows where they are."

There was dead silence at the other end. It seemed to stretch on forever. "Punkin," he finally prompted, "are you still there? Talk to me. Please."

"I'm here," she rasped icily. "Never call me that again. I'm not your 'Punkin' anymore, Roman. You let them go down there alone. We told you something was wrong, but you ignored us. Now John...John is dying, and Marlena has disappeared. We'll probably never see her again. You think you can just say 'you're sorry' now, and everything will be all right? Because of you, because of your blind hatred, I have just lost two of the most important people in my life. I will never forgive you for this. From this moment on, you no longer have a daughter named Carrie--for the rest of the family's sake, I will still talk to you when I have to, but I will never be your daughter again." The cold resolve in her voice struck terror in his soul. He had made his peace with John, only to lose his daughter. "There are some things I need to know." Carrie continued in the same chilly tones. "I assume Grandma and Grandpa didn't leave Belle and Brady with Sami. Are they at the Hortons?"

"Alice and Maggie both have the flu," he told her quietly, trying not to reveal how much her cold words stung. He knew he deserved them. "Belle and Brady and Shawn-D are at Victor's. Kate's maid, Nydia, is looking after them. Bo talked to Shawn-D a little while ago. He says they're all doing fine. Do you want to come to New Orleans? Victor will send his jet for you."

"Tell Victor thank you, but no," she replied with icy dignity. "I have an important job to do here. Someone from the family needs to be with Belle and Brady. John and Marlena would want me to look after them. Please ask Victor if I could stay at his house temporarily, until more permanent arrangements can be made."

"I'm sure it won't be a problem," Roman said softly. "Just a minute." He walked across the room to Victor. "Carrie would like to stay at your house with Belle and Brady, if it's all right with you."

Victor exchanged 'I told you so' glances with Kate, then turned back to Roman. "Of course, it's all right. In fact, knowing how responsible she is, and how much she loves John and his children, we thought she might want to do just that. We had Henderson prepare rooms for both her and Austin. Why don't I talk to her?"

Roman handed him the phone and backed away a few steps. "Hello, Carrie. It's Victor. Kate and I would be delighted to have you at the house, and Austin too. Henderson has rooms all ready for you."

"Roman?' Bo touched his arm, distracting him from the one-sided conversation. "Are you all right? I was watching while you were talking to Carrie. All of a sudden, you got this funny look on your face...like you were in pain or something. And it's still there."

Roman swallowed hard, and jerked his head toward the windows. "Let's go over there," he muttered.

Bo accompanied him across the room, looking at him with great concern. "What is it, Roman?"

"It's Carrie," he choked. "She blames me for what happened to John and Marlena. She said she'll never be my daughter again."

Bo stared at him. "She said what!?" he asked in disbelief.

"That she'll never be my daughter again. That it's all my fault." Roman felt himself on the verge of tears, and struggled to hold them back as he shakily reiterated Carrie's accusations. "Marlena told her I refused go to New Orleans with John. She knows I wouldn't believe you when you all thought something was wrong. She thinks I hate John so much I'm happy he's dying. I told her I was sorry, but she said it's too late--she'll never forgive me, and she'll never be my daughter again."

Bo shook his head in bewilderment. "Are you sure you were talking to Carrie? Sami might say something like that, but Carrie? That doesn't sound like her at all. It must be the shock: that has to be it. She's just really upset right now. She loves you, bro. When she's calmed down a little, I'm sure everything'll be okay."

"I don't think so. Her voice was so cold...it sounded like it was coming from Antarctica. I've lost her."

"What's the matter with you? You sound like you've given up."

"Given up!? I haven't given up! Carrie's my daughter. I'll never give up on her!"

"All right. That sounds more like the Roman Brady I know. You have to think positive, bro. You may have a real struggle to win her back. If you let yourself get discouraged now, you're halfway to losing before you've even started."

Roman thrust his shoulders back and took a deep breath. "You're right," he said determinedly. "I was just so stunned hearing her say those things...I wasn't thinking. Of course, she's in shock. She's also hurt, and terrified, and angry right now. She needed to lash out at somebody, and since Stefano isn't available, I guess I'm the next best choice. After all," he admitted painfully, "most of what she said is true: I have a lot to make up for. I just hope she can forgive me someday."

Bo studied him for a minute, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Forgiveness," he finally mused. "That's the key, Roman. Forgiveness. I think I know how to fix this. What if we--"

"Bo?" It was Victor. "Excuse me for interrupting, but Carrie wants to talk to you." He handed Bo the phone and quietly withdrew.

Roman watched jealously as Bo lifted the phone to his ear. "Carrie? What can I do for you, sweetie?" He listened intently for a moment. "Of course, I'll tell him," he said gently. "I think you're doing a wonderful thing, choosing to stay with Belle and Brady. I know you want to be here with John; he and Marlena would be so proud of you." He listened again. "All right. You take care. We all love you, honey. If you need to talk, you just call Victor again. He'll get the message to us. Bye." He closed the phone and shook his head at Roman's hopeful look. "Sorry, bro. She didn't want to talk to you. She wants me to tell John she loves him. She was crying." Tears glistened in his own eyes, and he blinked them away.

"Dammit," Roman growled. "She needs me. I have to get through to her somehow. What was your idea, Bo?"

"Hhmm? Oh. I think we should show her John's letters. When she realizes he didn't blame you, and even wanted you to get back together with Marlena, she might come around--eventually."

Roman gusted a sigh of relief. "Little brother, that's brilliant. Get Victor's fax number," he said eagerly. "I'll send them to her right away."

Bo shook his head. "No. You can't do that, Roman. Carrie's so angry right now she's gonna reject any overtures you make, especially if she thinks you're playing on her feelings for John. She can't know you have anything to do with this. It's your best shot, but you're gonna have to let me handle it. When I think she's ready, I'll give her John's letters. But don't expect miracles. She'll probably be even angrier with you when she understands exactly what John went through. It's gonna take time, and some careful nudges in the right direction, to change her mind. You'll have to be patient."

"Patient." Roman grimaced. "Does this conversation sound as strange to you as it does to me, Bo? You, telling me, to be patient. I feel like I just entered the Twilight Zone--everything's all turned around. I expect to see Rod Serling walk through the door any minute."

Bo gave a short laugh. "I will admit, it is a little strange. But you know what they say: 'Everybody has to grow up sometime.' I guess it's finally my turn."

"Well, it took you long enough. You always were a procrastinator, but don't you think twelve years is a little excessive, even for you?"

"Me? A procrastinator?" Bo feigned indignation. "I'll have you know I have impeccable timing, bro. I'm just working to a long-range plan, that's all. On my 21st birthday, I sat down and wrote that I was going to grow up on June 27th, 1994, at exactly," he consulted his watch, "8:24 p.m. I'm right on schedule." He reached toward his neck, adjusted an imaginary tie, then put out his hand. "How do you do. I'm Bo Brady, responsible adult."

For a moment, Roman's heavy heart lifted. He started to laugh at his brother's craziness, but a sudden, sharp cry from his mother sobered him immediately. "Shawn!!"

He and Bo sprinted across the room, to find their father almost doubled over, clutching his left arm, a look of agony on his face. "Oh, God!" Caroline cried frantically. "I think he's having a heart attack! Get a doctor! Hurry!" They started to rush for the door when a voice called them back. "No!" Shawn groaned. "I'm all right...I swear. It's not me. It's John! He's in trouble!"

Caroline, Roman and Bo looked at Shawn--and each other--in confusion, then Roman knelt beside his father. "Pop," he said firmly, "something's wrong. You need help."

"No!" Shawn groaned again. "You don't understand... It's not me. It's John! He's dyin'--right now, this very minute! He's clingin' to my hand; that's the only thing holding him here. If I let go, he'll die!"

to be continued...

© 1998 by Ruth Stout - All Rights Reserved

Background Image Courtesy of Proof New Media Inc. at freeimages.com

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