Maison Blanche Revisited

Chapter 8: Bedtime Stories

THE MOURNFUL CREAKING of the antique rocker furnished the perfect accompaniment to Carrie Brady's aching heart. Outwardly composed--knowing she had to be strong for the soon-to-be orphaned children entrusted to her care--she had banished her tears deep inside, but her soul was still wailing with grief. The old oaken chair had given voice to that grief. As she rocked, every sigh, every creak, had become the sobs she refused to let pass her lips. Right now, they were all the comfort she could allow herself. She desperately wanted to throw herself into Austin's arms and scream her anguish to the heavens, but she didn't dare. If she did, she was afraid she would lose herself in her agony just when the children needed her the most.

So much had happened since that devastating phone conversation...she felt she had aged years instead of just hours. After the call, when she had finally stopped crying long enough to be coherent, she had staggered across the hall to Austin and he had driven her over to Victor's. During the short trip, she had struggled to gain control of herself, using all the strength that the many trials of her young life had instilled in her to dry her tears and lock them away. Her preparation had come just in time. When they had arrived at Victor's, it was immediately clear that Shawn-D's report to his father had been, if not an outright lie, more than a little exaggerated. Things at the mansion had been far from fine: chaotic was a much more accurate description. Both Belle and Brady were shattering the air with heart-wrenching cries; a situation which, according to the distraught Henderson, had been going on for at least an hour. No one had been able to soothe them...not even little Shawn-D, though he had tried his best, bless his heart.

She had taken charge immediately, hurrying up to the nursery to find the dark-haired maid, Nydia, and motherly Mrs. March, the cook, each trying to console a wailing child, while Shawn-D, looking like a miniature Bo, hovered in the background offering words of advice. If the circumstances hadn't been so grim it would have been almost comical, like a scene straight from a sitcom. But she hadn't felt the least desire to laugh. Instead, she had simply lowered herself into the sturdy old chair, taken Belle in one arm, Brady in the other, and started to rock. Within minutes, both children were asleep, a thumb tucked securely in each little mouth. Nydia and Mrs. March had tiptoed from the room, and Shawn-D had curled up with a blanket and pillow at her feet, he too falling asleep within minutes.

She had been rocking ever since, cuddling her surrogate brother and sister, soothing them when they whimpered in their sleep, and soothing herself with the creaks that had taken the place of her own aborted whimpers. And all the while she had been waiting...waiting with dread for the word she was sure had to come. That John, the man she would always think of as her father, was dead.

"Carrie? Are you awake?"

She jerked her head up, riveting her gaze on the figure in the doorway. "I'm awake," she said quietly, her heart pounding in her chest. "Have you heard anything?"

Austin moved into the room, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw he was smiling. Dare she hope...?

Austin prolonged her suspense by picking up the sleeping Shawn-D and placing him on a nearby bed, then he knelt in front of her and caught the arms of the rocker, silencing the creaks for the first time in hours. "I just talked to Kate," he told her softly, his smile widening. "I have good news. John made it through surgery. He's still critical, but the doctors say he has a chance now."

Carrie felt her control slip and her eyes filled with tears. "He's going to live?" she whispered joyfully. "John's going to live? Oh, Austin, this is the best news." She looked down at the sleeping Brady sprawled across her lap, at Belle, snuggled in her arms. "Your Daddy's going to live!" she breathed excitedly, feeling like shouting the news for the whole world to hear. "Your Daddy's going to live!"

"Carrie. Don't...please." There was an edge to Austin's voice, a warning note, that suddenly dampened her joy.

"What is it?" she asked fearfully. "You said John's going to live. That's wonderful news."

Austin sighed. "I knew I wasn't going to do this right," he muttered under his breath. "The doctors say he has a chance now, Carrie. A chance...that's all. He's still extremely critical. Kate said his heart stopped on the operating table--it took over five minutes to revive him. He's out of surgery now, but his vital signs haven't stabilized. The doctors don't think we should get our hopes up yet. He could still die at any moment."

She was shaken, but tried not to let it show. "He won't," she said confidently...more confidently than she actually felt. "They don't know John the way I do. Nobody fights harder than he does. If he made it this far, he's not going to die now."

"I hope you're right, I really do. I have some other news too, though, and it's not very good."

"It's Marlena," she said hoarsely, her throat constricting. "It's about Marlena, isn't it."

Austin shook his head. "No. They don't have any new information about Marlena. It's about your grandfather...Shawn. They think he had a heart attack." 

Shawn stared up at the ceiling of his hospital room, his feelings vacillating between annoyance and exultation. Over and over, he had tried to convince the doctors he didn't need to be here under observation, but he had finally given in when he saw how distressed Caroline, Roman and Bo were becoming. If it would ease their minds, he figured he could stay here for at least one night. Although he desperately wanted to be with John, to see with his own eyes how his son was doing, after the incredible incident of a few hours ago, he knew their spiritual connection was much more important than actual physical contact. His family thought he'd imagined the whole thing, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what he had experienced was real, and he would never forget it. John had turned to him for strength, and he had given it, just as he had promised.

His wife and his sons and the doctors believed he had suffered a heart attack (or maybe even a stroke), but moments before the pain, he had felt a weak flutter of ghostly fingers against his own, and known instantly John was in trouble. He had grabbed for those fingers and held on as tight as he could, pouring all his strength into that spiritual link, and that was what had caused his pain, not some damned heart attack. He had also known, somehow, that if he broke his concentration for even a moment John would be lost to them forever. That was why he had been so adamant in refusing medical assistance. It had been the longest five minutes of his life--fighting to hold on to John, while at the same time pleading with his terrified family to believe his seemingly preposterous assertion, and give him the time he needed to save his dying son. And he had delayed them just long enough. Roman and Bo had finally gone running for a nurse, but by the time they returned, the crisis had past. John's spectral fingers had suddenly started to move in his hand, and then, miraculously, to return his grip. And when he had taken a chance and loosened his own fingers a tiny bit, John's hand was still there, holding tight with revitalized strength.

It had been such an awe-inspiring experience; he still felt slightly overwhelmed by it all, and both proud and humble that God had used him to perform such a miracle. And if no one else ever believed him, well, that was all right. He didn't want glory, he just wanted John to survive. Slowly, with great care, he laid his right hand on top of his left, delicately enfolding John's phantom hand between the two. "You just keep holdin' on, son," he whispered softly, so as not to awaken Caroline, fast asleep on a cot beside his bed. "You just keep holdin' on. I'm right here if you need me." Then he, too, fell into a well-deserved, badly needed sleep.

Carrie stared at Austin in shock as he finished relating the incredible tale Kate had imparted to him over the phone. "Grandpa actually believes this?" she whispered in amazement. "He really thinks he was holding John's hand while John was in surgery? That he kept John from dying?"

"I know it sounds impossible," Austin replied, "but I can certainly see why he believes it. He had the pain in his arm at the exact moment John's heart stopped in the operating room. Five minutes later, the doctors manage to get John's heart beating again, and the pain in Shawn's arm goes away. A religious man like your grandfather wouldn't need any more proof than that."

"My Grandfather, the miracle worker," she said in bemusement. "It has a kind of a ring to it, doesn't it? But it doesn't really matter to me if it's true or not. All that matters is that John's alive, and that Grandpa's going to be okay. Kate was sure about that wasn't she?" she asked anxiously. "That Grandpa's going to be okay, I mean?"

"Yeah, she was pretty sure. She said after the pain went away he seemed to be just fine. He only agreed to spend the night in observation because your grandmother insisted. He'll probably be released in the morning, and the doctors will say he just had a muscle cramp in his arm or something."

"I hope you're right," Carrie sighed tiredly. "I don't think I could stand it if something happened to Grandpa too...not now. I'd really like to call and talk to him, but it's so late, he's probably asleep. I guess I should wait till morning."

Austin leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. "Shawn's not the only one who needs some sleep," he told her gently. "You're exhausted, Carrie. Why don't you put Belle and Brady to bed, then go to bed yourself. I went back to your apartment and packed some things for tonight. The bag's in your room next door. I'll get the rest of your stuff tomorrow." He glanced at Bo's son, sound asleep on the small bed next to one of the cribs. "Shawn-D's room is right across the hall, but he looks so comfortable it'd be a shame to wake him up. I think he'll be fine right where he is."

Carrie nodded silent agreement, grateful for Austin taking charge and too tired to argue. It had been a long, terrible, exhausting evening. She needed her rest to face what could be a long, terrible, exhausting day tomorrow. 

Bo quietly entered John's room and walked over to the bed. The five-and-a-half hours in surgery might have given John a fighting chance to live, but they'd definitely taken their toll on him. Instead of looking better, he looked even worse than before, like he was right on death's door. And according to the doctors (and Shawn) that was exactly where he'd been. Bo was still having trouble accepting his father's bizarre story, but he couldn't deny that the timing of the attack, coinciding so exactly with John's heart failure, had to be more than mere coincidence. Had they been witnesses to a miracle? They would probably never know, but did it even matter? John was alive. That was miracle enough for now.

He reached across the maze of tubes to brush a stray hair from John's forehead, then retrieved a stool from a corner and placed it by the bed. He sat down and looked over at Victor, holding vigil in a nearby chair. "Kate and I finished the calls," he said quietly. "She talked to Austin, the Hortons, and Abe and Lexie; and I called Sami, Kayla, Kim and Billie. Roman's gonna wait till tomorrow to call Marlena's parents and Eric. He's hoping the forensics team finds something so he doesn't have to tell them she just disappeared without a trace."

"I don't think he should get his hopes up, Bo." Victor's tone was hushed and somber. "Knowing Stefano the way I do, I'm sure he removed every bit of incriminating evidence before he left...except for John, of course.

Bo shook his head in disagreement. "I don't think so, Victor, not this time. We may have finally caught Stefano with his pants down, so to speak. I had several long phone conversations with Kristen and Tony earlier today, trying to work out the timing of when they were coming and going at Maison Blanche. It's very possible they disrupted Stefano's timetable; maybe disrupted it so much he was only able to clear out with Marlena and his people. I think somewhere in that house is hard evidence Stefano didn't have time to move. All we have to do is find it. The forensics team is going to work all night, and we have an architect going over old plans of the house, looking for hidden rooms. A local historian said the house was part of the Underground Railroad before and during the Civil War--you know, for smuggling slaves to freedom?"

Victor nodded his understanding.

"Well, it turns out a lot of these 'Railroad stations' had secret rooms for hiding slaves. I can see Stefano buying the house for that reason alone. And if I'm right about the timing, I'm betting that secret room will contain a whole lot more than just cobwebs."

"I hope you're right." Victor responded. "I admire Marlena a great deal, you know. She treats Brady like her own son, and even though she still doesn't like me or trust me very much, she lets me treat Belle like a granddaughter. The idea of her being alone with Stefano is appalling. We have to do everything we can to find her." His face set into grim, determined lines. "I want you to tell Roman all my resources are available to him. Whatever he needs, whatever it costs, he's got it. I already put the word out through my contacts around the world to be on the lookout for Stefano and Marlena, along with a reward starting at ten million dollars."

"Ten...million...dollars?!" Bo practically strangled on the words, gaping at his estranged father in astonishment. "I don't understand you, Victor," he finally whispered hoarsely. "Why are you doing this? Money has always been your god. Money and power. Why would you do this for Marlena, for the Bradys?"

Victor studied him a long moment before answering. "I know you may not believe me, Bo, but I don't care about the money and the power anymore, at least, not like I used to. I thought they would make me happy, but they never did, not really. I used them like bludgeons, to make people do what I wanted, and in the end, those same people hated me, or feared me, or fawned on me, but they never liked me or respected me. I was so wrapped up in my power games that I treated my own family the same way I did everybody else. Look at what I did to you and Justin: I wanted you to love me, and to me that meant I had to make both of you over in my own image. Well, I tried that, and I almost ended up destroying you and your families instead. Now, you barely speak to me, and Justin moved to Texas. I drove Isabella away too, but by some miracle, she gave me another chance.

"Isabella taught me how to love. For the first time in my life, I knew the joy of being part of a real family...of being a real father, and a grandfather. She made me see that people are what life is all about, not the pursuit of money and power. Because of her, I finally understand that the things I'd based my life on aren't important in themselves; it's what you do with them that counts, and that comes from inside a person. I had to learn that lesson the hard way; I would have gone to the ends of the earth to save Isabella, spent every penny I had if it would have kept her alive, but all my power and all my money were useless. In the end, the only things I had to give her were my love, and my promise I wouldn't break her trust in me. I've tried as hard as I can to keep that promise, Bo, and because of it, my life has changed forever. It was very difficult at first, but whenever I was tempted to backslide, John was there to help me back on the right path. Then after a while it got easier and easier, and I suddenly discovered something truly amazing: the more love you give, the more you get back.

"I know you're suspicious of my relationship with John, that you think I'll turn on him someday and try to destroy him. I promise you, that will never happen. John is my family, Bo, in a way I know you can never be. I love him, and I love Belle and Brady. I would never do anything to hurt them, and just like with Isabella, I would go to the ends of the earth to save them, or to save the people they love. My wealth couldn't help Isabella, but it just might bring Marlena home to her children. And in a small way, it gives me a chance to partly repay the enormous debt I owe to John and Isabella."

Bo stared at Victor in astonishment. He had never heard him talk this way before. With Victor, love, money and power had always been inextricably linked, with money and power always coming first. Had the leopard finally changed his spots, or was this just another ploy to lure him back into the Kiriakis empire? He wanted to believe, but a small voice in the back of his mind kept repeating: Be careful, it's a trick. He licked his dry lips. "Victor, I want to believe you, but it's hard. You've burned me so many times. I--"

"It's all right," Victor sighed. "I understand. At least you're talking to me now. It's a start."

"It's a start," Bo agreed. He decided to change the subject. "Do you actually think a reward will work? Stefano can go anywhere he likes. He can hole up on some tiny island and never be seen or heard from again."

"As a matter of fact, he can't," Victor contradicted quietly. "As much as he would like to, Stefano can't isolate himself from the world. Not only is he a monster, he's a hedonistic monster. He surrounds himself with beautiful, expensive things, and armies of guards, and servants, and underlings. Those 'employees' are going to be his downfall. He buys his loyalty the same way I used to buy mine, but treats his people infinitely worse. Many of them hate his guts, and some have even been blackmailed into working for him. They don't want to be there, but he's so powerful they're trapped. Look at the guard who helped John. He obviously detested what was happening, but he didn't dare stop it. Maybe he has a wife, or a mother, or a sister being threatened by Stefano. Ten million dollars won't just buy someone like that a new life, it'll buy them escape and protection. Once word of the reward gets out, Stefano's going to be living on borrowed time."

"I don't know what to say, Victor, except thank you. I'll tell Roman about your offer tomorrow. He finally got to sleep and I don't want to wake him up. And speaking of sleep, you look exhausted. Why don't you take a break and let me sit with John. I wangled a couple of empty rooms from one of the nurses for you and Kate, and Roman and me. Kate's waiting for you down the hall at the nurse's station. You two get some rest, then maybe one of you can spell me in a couple of hours. I'd like Roman and Ma to sleep through the night, if possible, so that just leaves you, me and Kate to take turns with John. Is that all right with you?"

"It's fine, Bo." Victor rose from the chair, arching his tired back and rotating his stiff shoulders. "Your mother needs to be with Shawn right now, and I know Roman was more exhausted than any of us. The three of us can manage."

"Okay. See you later then."

Victor nodded and headed for the door, leaving Bo alone with John. He moved from the uncomfortable stool to the much more comfortable chair and stretched out his legs. "Well, bro," he said conversationally, "it's just you and me. You've been gone awhile, so I guess I should fill you in on everything that's been happening back in dear old Salem and the rest of the world. First though, I have a message from Carrie. She says to tell you she loves you, and she'll take good care of Belle and Brady. She wants you to get well and come home ASAP. You're going to be so proud of her, John. I know she wanted to come see you, but she stayed in Salem to take care of the kids. You did a good job with her, bro...a real good job. Now about the news. Why don't we start with those Yankees..."

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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