The Fullness of Time – By Cordelia 50

“Time is a slippery thing: lose hold of it once, and its string might sail out of your hands forever.”
― Anthony Doerr, All the Light We Cannot See

“The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit
Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line,
Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it.”
― Omar Khayyám

Wednesday

Marlena Evans Brady exited the psychiatric ward, lost in her thoughts, wondering how she could help Joe Catenacci, the veteran who had withdrawn into near complete catatonia. Every once in a while, he rewarded her efforts to communicate with him with a faint movement or even a tiny grunt. But generally, he did not react to her, or anyone.

“Dr. Evans?”

Pulled from her reverie, she turned around. Dr. Chang looked at her inquiringly. “Yes? I’m sorry,” she answered.

“I just asked whether you had a chance to see Mr. Green?”

“Oh, yes — Panny.” Marlena nodded at the wild-haired young doctor (most doctors under forty-five looked young to her these days). She worked to shift gears and consider the case of the outpatient whose schizophrenia would not be tamed by the usual medications. “Yes, talked with him. I’ve looked at all the medications already tried.”

She walked to the nurse’s desk and asked for Panny’s records. Opening the folder, she wordlessly showed Dr. Chang what she’d prescribed, not wanting passers-by to hear confidential information. The other psychiatrist nodded approvingly. “It’s a choice that makes sense, but I admit I wouldn’t have thought of it.”

Marlena completely understood, and replied, “We’ll just have to see. Another patient in Salem accepted it really well, but that doesn’t mean Mr. Green will react in the same way.”

“Well, you’re off the clock now, Dr. Evans. I hope you have a good evening, and we’ll see you tomorrow. You’re still here for another two weeks, right?”

“A week and a half, if we get technical” she corrected with a smile. But as the short, rotund Dr. Chang hurried down the hall, absently patting his uncombed mop, Marlena sighed. Yes, she was off the clock. But she had nothing planned other than heading back to her lodgings, having dinner alone, and then reading for a while before bed. Maybe she’d call one of the kids and compare notes on the day. Could she time it right to get Johnny and Teddy on the phone?

Sauntering down the corridors, Marlena knew she’d made the right decision to come consult at the Palo Alto V.A. Hospital. Seeing a whole new group of patients sharpened the mind and allowed her to use skills she had almost forgotten she’d acquired much earlier in her years of practice. Before she’d flown out to California, Eric had broached the subject of retirement. “You know, Mom, you’ve been working 45 years. It’s okay to hang it up if you want to.”

“But I don’t want to, honey. What would I do with myself all day? Just hang around the townhouse? Do charity work at the Horton Center? No. That’s not for me. I want to keep working. It gives me purpose, and I need that now that your father’s gone.”

As she recalled that conversation, she also flashed back to July 8 of last year when Kayla found her in the Salem University Hospital break room and quietly told her Roman had been brought to the ICU. But by the time she arrived at his bedside, he had been declared DOA. He’d had a massive heart attack. Every time she thought of that, she felt the tears brimming.

Shaking her head resolutely, she continued through the hospital toward the parking lot. Here and there little knots of people stood or sat. She passed by doors to different treatment centers. Some were open, and she looked inside just out of curiosity. As she passed Physical Therapy, she caught sight of three people in the waiting area. A boy in a wheelchair, a woman behind the chair, and a man with gray hair sitting on one of the molded plastic chairs saying something to the boy. Probably the grandfather. Marlena continued on by, but her mind stayed on that image of the three people. There was something there her brain wanted to evaluate, something it couldn’t let go. After a few more steps, she stopped. She focused on the man in her mind’s eye. She hadn’t gotten a really good look, but there was something about him. Marlena retraced her steps to look again.

The man had turned his back to the door. He still spoke with the boy, gesturing as he did. Marlena couldn’t hear his words, but as she watched him motioning, something in the far back of her memory started nudging her. But she couldn’t pinpoint why.

The presumed mother touched her son’s shoulder as though reinforcing or sympathizing with the man’s comments. And her face shone, as if in relief that someone else was giving her boy a pep talk.

But Marlena’s attention returned to the man. She noted the neat, professional cut of his hair, and that it’s predominant white/gray still contained strands here and there with a brownish tone, especially in the back by the nape of his neck. He wore a light gray windbreaker. She couldn’t see much else.

Then a nurse emerged from the physical therapy room and called the name “Buddy Crickson,” and the boy’s mother, offering a word to the man, guided the wheelchair through the door. Buddy, a small, frail boy with big round eyes, looked back at the man and gave him a tentative thumbs-up and a shy smile.

Now the man sat alone, and Marlena hoped he’d turn around and reveal his face to her. But he didn’t move, watching the pair disappear beyond the doors on the other side of the room.

Finally, he did straighten his position in the chair and looked up at the ceiling, giving a few little nods before lowering his head as though in thought…or perhaps prayer.

Marlena’s heart stopped. She saw a lean, shaved face with the wrinkles of time, including more flabby flesh in the throat area; a long, patrician nose; a prominent chin; clear eyes (although they viewed the world through wire-rimmed glasses) under nearly white eyebrows; and a distinctive, sensual mouth she thought she’d seen for the last time more than twenty-five years ago. This man seemed smaller than the one she remembered, but after all, he was sitting down, so it was hard to judge. The man she’d known had built up his body by working out nearly daily. This one did not have a beefed-up look. But still, he resembled —

No, she thought sharply. It can’t be. It’s probably someone who just looks a lot like him. Well, a lot like he might look at this age. Her heart started again and began to hammer, and her hands felt clammy. She had to get a closer look at him. Before she knew what she was doing, she’d slipped into the waiting room. She wished there were somewhere she could hide and secretly observe him. But there was nowhere. The one potted Areca Palm near the door offered insufficient cover. If she was going in, and she was, he would see her. Shaking more than she had in years about anything, she kind of hugged the wall, heading toward the reception desk –which wasn’t manned. She didn’t want to stare at him, but on the other hand, she needed to see his features more clearly, so she walked on by, trying to steal glimpses.

The man did notice her the way people in waiting rooms do when a new person enters. This late in the afternoon, they had the room to themselves. No sign of familiarity crossed his face, but she did notice a telltale, but fleeting, shot of male appreciation for the opposite sex in his expression. As people do in offices, he set about minding his own business. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a little notebook into which he made notations.

She had made the pass in front of him, and her emotions felt as tightly strung as the most tuned violin strings. Dear Lord, dead God, this man looked so much like him!

Marlena thought feverishly: He clearly doesn’t know me. Shouldn’t that settle it? He didn’t jump up and run to me and cry out, “Marlena!” I must be grasping at straws. Maybe my loneliness since Roman passed is finally exhibiting itself in a desperate attempt to see in this stranger someone who’s been gone so very long.

Wryly acknowledging that now she engaged in self-analysis too, Marlena struggled to get hold of herself. She should just walk right back to the main hall and continue out of the hospital, as she’d intended after speaking with Dr. Chang.

Instead, her brain clanged at her insistently: You need to hear his voice. When you hear it, you’ll know for sure.

Across from him, another bank of chairs for waiting patients lined up. Marlena, taking a huge breath, navigated her still in-shock body through the aisle and sank down into one — barely in time, too, because her legs nearly failed her.

Clearing her throat, Marlena fumbled for something to say to the man who seemed immersed in his notes. Hearing her voice quake, she asked, “Pardon me, I couldn’t help noticing the boy who just went in. Is he your grandson?”

He immediately raised his head and his hands simultaneously clicked his pen and replaced it in his pocket, and he flipped closed the little book and did the same with that. Looking at Marlena attentively, even admiringly, but again with no sign of recognition, he answered, “Ah, no. He’s a boy I see here sometimes, and I try to encourage him. Buddy’s just five and has osteogenesis — the tendency to break bones easily. He comes here for very gentle supervised exams and exercises.”

Marlena’s heart thumped again wildly. Yes! She knew that voice. It spoke more softly than she remembered, almost whispering, but it belonged to the man she’d known. She knew it did. Marlena couldn’t believe she was having a conversation with him. She felt absolutely churned inside.

“You come here regularly?” she managed to croak out. She felt as though she were in a spinning tunnel. Do NOT faint, she inwardly commanded herself.

“Yeah,” he said. He indicated his left leg. “Broke it badly a couple years ago, and it’s been a struggle getting it to work properly again.”

“I’m sorry,” Marlena said, feeling a wave of sympathy. The more she looked at that face, the more she was convinced. She wanted to move closer, to gaze into his deep blue eyes, and see his hands and his face in the highest definition, but since he obviously considered her a stranger, she restrained herself. “I’m Marlena Evans,” she managed, watching his every reaction.

“Pleasure to meet you, Marlena Evans. That’s a beautiful name. John. John Darrow.”

Darrow? Marlena wondered where that name came from. But her mind and emotions ran riot. She and John were conversing. This was her John, she felt more and more sure every passing second. Yes, her John. The man she’d met back in December of 1985. The man who’d called himself John Black, then Roman Brady, then John Black again. The man whom she’d been married to and had loved deliriously. The one who’d loved her like no one else ever had. Like no one else ever could. Her soul was bonded to him, and even though she’d loved Roman very much all the years of their marriage, her heart and soul never stopped loving and longing for this man. Yet, he didn’t know her.

John spoke again, a silkiness to his tone and an amused glint in his eye, “You don’t look like you need any physical therapy, Marlena.”

“Ohhhh. No. I don’t.” Marlena struggled to focus. “I’m a doctor from out of town — out of state, actually — here doing some consulting work.”

“You’re an orthopaedist?”

“No,” she laughed nervously. “That requires a lot of physical strength, especially surgery.” She just kept drinking him in with her eyes. Of course John looked older than the images of him she carried around in her brain. She’d last seen him in December of 1992. It was October, 2019 now.

“What is your specialty then?”

“I’m a psychiatrist.”

His eyes searched the room to confirm they were the only ones in it and then trained on her appraisingly. He said affably but firmly, “Not that I mind some attention from a pretty doctor, no matter what the circumstances, but aren’t you in the wrong section of the hospital then? I mean, someone didn’t play a joke on me and put me on your schedule, did they?”

Inside Marlena, a flood of memories with John flashed one after the other. The first time they shook hands, their first date, her hypnotizing him to help him remember his mysterious past, them shooting down the rapids, their wedding in 1986, going back to West Virginia for their honeymoon, the two of them in many different lovers’ embraces, her return to Salem in 1991 and their reunion on the pier, the day they found out he wasn’t Roman Brady, the first time she saw him after Isabella died. It was all there in a big rush. And foremost, the incredible love she had for him, the love she had suppressed all these years, the love that threatened now to overwhelm her as it rushed back into sharp relief…

Marlena choked up. Surely, surely, that indescribable love couldn’t have been drained from him. She looked him straight in the eyes, and willed his memory to be jogged, to know suddenly, just because she was there with him, all that he had apparently forgotten. “No,” she said, “I…that is…I’m sure we’ve met before. That’s why I came in here.”

She saw him tense up. Suddenly John became extra watchful and more cautious. “You think we have? When?”

She wanted to blurt it all out, but they had been down this road before in ‘86, and she knew he would be better off if he remembered himself. If she told him too much, he might just think he remembered, when in fact, those memories could just be “ghosts” implanted by her stories.

“It would be better if you remember on your own.”

“Doctor, trust me. That might never happen. Tell me when we met,” he demanded.

“All right. We first met when you were in Salem University Hospital in December of 1985.”

“1985?”

“Yes.”

When was the last time you think you saw me?”

“In December of 1992.”

Marlena saw John’s face blanch. He reached next to his chair and picked up a metal cane and pulled himself to his feet, steadying himself with the stick.

“Please don’t leave yet,” she implored him, rising too. She feared she had scared him off. She wanted to go to him and throw her arms around him. She wanted to feel his arms envelop her again. She wanted them to embrace each other as they had so long ago.

But John wasn’t riding the same wavelength. He took some careful steps, moving behind the row of chairs he’d been sitting in. He said by way of explanation, “I’m not leaving. I just can’t just sit too long. I have to move around or my leg gets stiff and aches like the devil.” He came around until he’d made a long oval and was back where he’d started.

As he emerged in front of the chairs, she could tell that he wore a brace (an orthotic brace, she assumed) below the left knee under his loose fitting slacks. He didn’t seat himself again. Standing there in front of her, both hands on his cane, he said, “Doctor, maybe you’ve got the wrong guy. Maybe I’m not the person you think I am.”

Marlena swallowed. Could that be? No. He’d reacted when he heard the dates. And he WAS her John. Unless John had had a twin who also had memory issues, this had to be her John. She said in a very faint voice, “Unless you have or had a twin brother, it’s you, I’m sure of it.”

He huffed at that. “No twin ever. No living siblings.”

How did he know that? Marlena was about to ask but he spoke again before she could, “Uh. Did I — if it was me — have memory loss when I was in Salem back then?”

“Yes, you did.” She inched closer, and now, even though his glasses impeded her view a little under the LED lights, she could see his azure blue eyes. Oh my gosh, she marveled anew. It’s really John! She couldn’t help herself. She reached out and touched his top hand for a moment.

“John, do you remember anything about Salem?” Please, please say you remember something about us, she pleaded in her head and heart.

He slowly shook his head. “Which Salem is it? Massachusetts? Oregon?”

“Illinois.” Her heart sank at the need to tell him this basic point.

He moved his jaw in one of his familiar “considering movements,” and then he took a step closer to her. He inhaled and said, “That’s a lovely perfume you’re wearing. Smells like lilacs. A perfect scent for a lovely woman.”

Having him so close made her pulse race, and she had to force herself not to throw herself at him and kiss him. She realized he could probably tell. He had usually been a very observant and sensitive man, and right now he had all his senses lasered on her. She stammered, “Th -Thank you. Lilacs are a favorite flower of mine.” Her eyes continued to drink him in.

His held only questions. But she could see in them a growing sense that their prior relationship had been an intimate one. Before he could say anything about what he might be sensing, she redirected the conversation, “Maybe I could ask, what parts of your life do you remember now…”

John’s lively eyes studied her face intently, as though trying to wrench recognition from his brain. But he replied grimly, “Look. You’re a physician, right? You know how to keep confidences?”

She nodded breathlessly.

“Okay, I’m willing to answer that, but you’ve got to keep it to yourself. I remember everything except the years you said I was in Salem, Illinois and a few years after that. Umm. Yeah, I remember up to about 1985 and then I remember everything again after sometime in 2002.”

Marlena was stunned. Her eyes went wide when he said that. She swayed a little and then felt light-headed and sat down again.

“Are you alright?” John eased himself into the chair next to hers, concern etched into his whispery voice. Now he reached over and clasped his right hand over her pale, cold left one, seeking to console and strengthen her. Hands are as individual as anything about a person. Even though fraternal twins have the same fingerprints, they inevitably develop some discernible differences as they grow. These large, strong, masculine hands were unquestionably John Black’s. Marlena had seen, and more importantly, felt, them too many times to ever forget them.

At that moment, it was all too much for her. She brought both her hands to envelop his and held on for dear life as shudders of oddly dry crying passed through her. Losses. Her losses. They just tore through her.

First, the unexpected loss of Roman fifteen months ago surfaced. That had been a trauma for sure, and one she had not sufficiently faced and mourned.

But more acutely, the much older brand on her psyche of the loss of John so long ago. The loss of the marriage she had so hoped to regain when she returned in 1991 when she’d thrilled unimaginably to see him on the pier. And then the complete loss of his presence when he disappeared in 1992. They had thought him dead because no trace of him had been found when they searched for him through 1993 and again in late 2001 and early 2002. Dear Lord, how she had missed this man. Since the first time she’d met him, he’d been knit into her soul. No matter what else she had in her life, without him, she wasn’t whole.

And she knew John had felt the same way about her. He’d told her that many times. Which made it all the harder to take that he didn’t feel what she was feeling now. That he didn’t share her wonderment that they were together in the same place. That he didn’t long to gather her into his arms and never let her go.

So, the overload of now being in his presence once again short circuited her emotions, and led to her conspicuous loss of control.

“Hey, hey,” John said huskily. “Don’t cry. Please don’t. Otherwise, I might just join you, and then where’d we be?” Gently disengaging his hand from between hers, he put his arm around her heaving shoulders. As she struggled to get control, she reflected that this was so John. He always had been a man who comforted people who were in emotional distress, even if they were strangers to him.

“I’m sorry.” she sniffled, taking a deep breath.

“No need to apologize,” he said, tightening his arm in more of a hug before pulling it away.

She knew he was watching her, sizing her up, trying to figure out how important she’d been once in his life. She wished she knew exactly what he was thinking. Turning her body so she could look him straight in the face, she saw with a jolt that a scar ran down the left temple of his handsome face. She made a mental note to ask him about that later. But for now, her moments of grief retreating from their intensity, she had to return to what had shocked her about his statement of what he remembered.

“You remember your early years?”

John took a deep breath and stretched his neck. “Yes.”

“Oh my gosh! That’s incredible. You never did while you were in Salem. John, how did that happen? And why don’t you remember 1985 to 2002?”

“That is a very long story.” He got to his feet. He gave her a small smile and held out his hand to her. She took it, feeling warm energy from his touch again, and stood too.

“You know, I don’t have any desire to end this very strange but, it seems, auspicious, meeting. I’d be a fool to voluntarily abandon the company of a woman as beautiful as you. But, before I can tell you my story, two things need to happen. I’m sure you can understand that I need some proof that you are who you say, and that we really did know one another during my ‘lost’ years. And secondly, I’m starving.”

Marlena shakily laughed. But then she remembered the boy and his mom. “You don’t need to wait for Buddy and his mother?”

“No. They won’t expect me to be here when they come out.”

“Okay. I’m staying at a hotel only about a mile from here, and it has a restaurant. I was going to eat dinner there. Will you come with me? I’ll get my ipad and show you some pictures. I still don’t want to tell you too much because it really is better if you remember yourself, but I think I can give you the proof you need.”

He cut to the chase. “Which hotel?”

“Dinah’s Garden Hotel.”

“I know where it is.”

Marlena said, “Since it’s so close, I walk there and back — exercise, you know.” She looked at his leg and cane, “But I guess that might not work for you right now.”

“Right. If you don’t mind getting into my car, I’ll just drive us.”

Marlena smiled at him and assured, “I don’t mind at all,” but it carried a hint of sadness. Why, oh why, she thought are we in a place where we have to have such conversations? Why, God? Why can’t he remember me?

They made their way out into the corridor and, at his pace (which wasn’t too slow), reached his blue Jeep Cherokee, and arrived at Dinah’s Poolside Restaurant in just a few minutes.

During that short span of time, Marlena couldn’t stop marveling at whom she sat next to.

Seated at a table in the Carribean-accented eatery, John ordered a house favorite, fish and chips, and Marlena chose the wild mushroom quesadilla. After the waiter had departed, Marlena said, “I’ll go to my room now before the food comes and get my ipad…”

“Or maybe it can wait until after we eat?” John suggested. “Look, I didn’t mean to impune your character or integrity when I said I needed some proof.”

“No, I understand. Really.”

He looked a little bashfully at her and said, “I guess what I mean is that I’d rather enjoy a meal with you first than have to dive right away into things about the past that I’m not sure I want to know. I’m assuming you remember your entire life? Most people do, but even though I’ve tried a lot of different methods, I can’t dredge up those years.”

Gently Marlena answered, “As a matter of fact, there are a few years of my life that I don’t remember much about either.”

That interested John. “When was that?’

Marlena took a long sip of the ginger ale she’d ordered to moisten her dry throat. “It was 1987 to 1991.”

John looked perplexed. “That’s during the time you said you knew me.”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I was gone from Salem for those years and presumed dead.” Seeing his consternation, she added, “A couple arch criminals wreaked havoc on Salem, and one of them kidnapped me and made it look as though I’d died in a small plane crash. It’s also possible the other one played a part as well.”

“That’s diabolical. I’m sorry you and your family had to go through that. I assume I knew about that back then? Did they apprehend your kidnappers?

“Yes, you thought I’d died. And, yes, the men who kept me away from my family, friends, and patients are out of commission. One died, and the other has been sentenced to life in prison — although he has a knack for escaping.”

Their dinners came, and they both tucked in, although Marlena didn’t finish, while John heartily vacuumed up every morsel of his. No dessert, but they did order a dessert wine produced in Napa called Grgich Hills Violetta. The restaurant wasn’t that full, and they intended to stay at their table and sip the wine. Marlena slipped off to her room and returned in a few minutes with the ipad.

“I’m not sure, again, how much to tell you, John. It’s not that I want to be secretive or use it for leverage or anything. It’s just, as I said before, if I tell you too much –”

“I know. You think it could prevent me from remembering myself. Doctor, it’s been nearly twenty years, and I don’t remember a thing,” His tone and his expression told her he had given up hope of regaining those memories.

Marlena gently said, “I do have some expertise in assisting people with amnesia, John. I could try to hypnotize you and see if some memories could be restored that way.”

“No, I don’t think so. But thanks for the offer,” John said hurriedly.

Not sure why he so adamantly cut short that idea, Marlena decided to let it rest for now. She had already shown him her driver’s license and a few other pieces of identification. And she offered him references he could contact if he had any doubts about her or what she had already or would tell him. Now, she concentrated on finding a couple pictures of John from her digitized photos. The original photos had long been packed away in storage.

Finding one she’d been searching out, she enlarged it and passed the ipad across the table so he could see. This was one of her favorite pictures of John and herself from 1986. If she recalled correctly, Carrie had taken the photo of them at a Horton party in her honor after she had recovered from her head injury. Just before they were married. She explained, “Here is a picture of you and me in 1986 at a party at a friend’s house. It was candid and unposed because neither of us was aware the picture had been taken until later.”

John, reluctantly at first, slid the ipad in front of him. Marlena saw him swallow, and she thought he braced himself. But once he actually looked at the photo, his resistance visibly evaporated. He gave a brief snort of amusement. “That guy had a lot of hair!”

Marlena joined his brief laughter with a little of hers. “Yes, you and MacGyver had the same hairstyle for a number of years.” After that popped out, she wondered whether he knew about that original 1980s show. But she didn’t ask. She just added, “And you were no slouch in the colorful shirts department either.”

“I see that.” He smiled. John picked up the ipad and dropped his glasses down his nose enough so he could see over the lenses. He studied the picture intensely, flicking the screen to enlarge it further.

Marlena knew every detail of that scene. John stood in the Horton’s backyard, a beer in his hand– actually, making some kind of point with the bottle. A couple feet from him, Marlena, in a flowery summer dress, faced him, holding a paper plate with a cookie on it. She and he held each other’s gazes. They were in the middle of some debate. A friendly debate, but clearly a debate, although Marlena could not now recall the substance of it. They looked as though they had forgotten everyone else in the world.

The camera angled at them from Marlena’s side so John could be seen more fully than she. This was one of the reasons Marlena chose this photo. It would give this John a good look at his younger self. And he would see the dynamic, the chemistry, between that younger him and the younger her.

John seemed to be memorizing the picture. Finally, he handed the ipad back to her. “Others?” he asked simply.

A little disappointed that he didn’t remark further, she bent to find another photo. She decided she needed her reading glasses, so she pulled them out of her purse and set them on her nose.

John noted, “You wear ‘em for reading, huh? Mine are for distance mainly. That ‘me’ in the picture didn’t need them, right?”

Looking up, Marlena nodded. “That’s true. You didn’t wear glasses back then. But people’s eyes change over time. Nearsightedness can develop gradually.”

She found another photo and turned the ipad back to him. This one showed him and Abe at the cop shop. The publicity photographer on the Salem police force had taken this one in 1990. Both men were on duty and had their holsters on. The photographer snapped them conducting a briefing for the detectives about a major murder case, and the photo had been published in the newspaper. Marlena had found the paper photo among John’s things when she and Caroline Brady finally sorted through them months after his disappearance. It was also still with the few things of John’s in storage.

Again, John cracked a smile. “I see what you mean about the MacGyver look,” he said.

Chuckling, she replied, “Other celebrities and regular people wore that style in the 1980s. But I think you might have been partial to it because Salem gets cold in the winter and you didn’t like hats, so that was one way to keep your neck warm. Also, you always had some rebel in you, and this was a way to express that even though you were a respected resident of Salem.”

Already past the hair, John said, “So I was a cop?”

Feeling some relief at his use of “I”, she said, “Yes, for a number of years. You were a police commander. You worked with, and were great friends with Abe Carver, the man beside you.”

“Hmm.” He considered that. “But, you said I came to Salem in 1985. I wasn’t a city cop before that. How did I rocket up to the rank of commander so fast?”

“Gosh, John, that’s a long and complicated story, too.” She looked at him imploringly. “Won’t you reconsider trying hypnosis with me? Maybe you would remember some of this.”

“Can’t,” he told her firmly.

“Why? If it’s because you just met me, and you’re not sure if you can trust me, as I mentioned, I can easily furnish you with references that I’m a licensed hypnotist, not to mention a long-practicing psychiatrist with lots of patients and many colleagues.”

He shook that off. “That’s not it.” He paused. “I worked for the government for years. I’ve got a lot of information in my brain that I can’t allow anyone who isn’t authorized to access. I’m not trying to assail your integrity or honesty, Doctor. You just aren’t on that list. Hypnosis is out.”

Here had spilled out another major revelation about his life away from Salem. But Marlena would have to process that later. Right now, she pursued her mission, not at all ready to give up. “Are you still doing that? Do you still have superiors whom we could perhaps talk to and get permission from?”

“I’m retired,” he said shortly. Then he added more gently, “When I was injured” — he gave a nod at his leg, “I ended my career.”

“I see. I’m so sorry that you were injured, John.”

“Yeah. Well, it’s a hazard of the job.” He added, “It was a hazard of being a cop, too, wasn’t it?”

Seeing that he had moved the conversation back to Salem, Marlena said fervently, “Definitely.”

“Anything else you want to show me?” John once again slid the ipad back to her.

She thought frantically. Should she? Would it be ethical and right to throw that picture of him and infant Brady at him? Or should she stop the pictures and push again for getting permission from his former bosses to allow hypnosis?

She could feel John’s eyes on her. He leaned forward so he could speak more quietly to her. He said, “Nothing else there? Or are you flummoxed because you’re censoring what you show and tell?”

Marlena jerked her head up and fixed him with a stare. She was on the verge of making a sarcastic remark, but she saw in his face no jeer or attempt to rile her. She sighed. “Honestly, I’m not sure what to do right now. Do you believe that was you in those two pictures?”

John took a deliberate swig of his wine. Slowly he returned the now-empty glass to the table, and he idly twirled the stem. He looked at the table, not her, as he said, “I would have to say those pictures did look like me — mullet excluded.” Then he did meet her eyes. “But I can’t put them in context, and they didn’t cause any rush of memories.”

Still twirling the glass, he looked down again. “Maybe it would help if you would tell me this: what did you and I mean to each other then?”

Sitting back, Marlena waited until she again saw his eyes, thinking madly. How do I do this? Instead of replying right away, she also drained the remainder of her wine. Clearing her throat delicately, she said, “I wish I knew how to best answer that.”

“Just tell me,” he suggested, a note of wheedling behind the straightforward words. When she still struggled with what to say, he spoke again, “You showed me that picture of what seems to have been you and me. Okay, I’ll say it was you and me. I may be nearsighted now, but I’m not blind. Anyone who sees that, including me, knows there was something really strong there. Something extraordinary. Those two weren’t just friends. They were lovers. They were something special. Tell me I’m wrong.”

Marlena felt a rush of tears threatening to spill. She swallowed hard, trying to suppress the sudden onrush of emotion. She reached over the table and put a hand around John’s still fiddling one. She squeezed it. “You’re not wrong,” she managed to say out of a throat that was closing on her.

“Okay.” John took her hand between both of his and held it gently. Then he let go with one and steadied himself on the table as he stood up. The hand that still held hers urged her to rise also. She looked at him questioningly.

“Come on. Bring your things.” John reached for his cane. “Oh,” he said, “I have to pay the bill.”

“No, not necessary. It will go on my hotel bill. No problem. It’s already settled.” Marlena mumbled.

John said, “I’m old school. The lady doesn’t pay for dinner. I’ll reimburse you. Anyway, come on.”

“Where to?”

He nodded at the outside garden area. In early October, Palo Alto was still warm in the evenings. They could sit out there with more privacy than they had here; the restaurant was filling up.

But Marlena had another idea. “We can talk in my room. If that’s alright with you?”

“As long as you’re comfortable with it, I’m game.”

Marlena noticed John wincing as he put weight on his left leg. Apparently, he had been sitting too long, and now it hurt him like the devil. Darn, she thought, I should have remembered that, and we should have left the restaurant earlier.

Dinah’s Garden Hotel was rated in tourist websites as upscale and nearly five complete stars. Its gardens were lush and beautiful, and within its heart lay a curving pool. The decor inside and out could be described as having an Asian twist or maybe some Polynesian characteristics.

Marlena’s room was spacious and light, with a Chinese woven tapestry above the queen size bed and an Oriental carpet running from the head of the bed to the polished wood desk a few steps from the foot of the bed. A little alcove (by the glass doors leading to the veranda that looked out on the pool) contained a little wooden table and two chairs in the corner, a blue upholstered loveseat, and a comfortable chair matching the little couch.

Marlena unlocked the door and stepped inside, snapping on the lights. John followed her and closed the door behind him. Before they actually arrived at her door, they had walked up and down the corridors a while so John could exercise his aching leg. He said it felt better now.

Placing her ipad and purse on the desk, Marlena went to the blinds behind the loveseat and lowered them. She asked John where he’d like to sit and he chose to turn out one of the wooden chairs. “It’s better for me than sitting on something soft right now,” he explained. Marlena took the upholstered chair and moved it opposite him and they both sat.

In the last few minutes, Marlena had calmed her emotions a little. She no longer felt on the verge of tears. But her mind blazed with activity as she tried to decide what to say next. Should she tell him the whole story of their relationship? Should she just tell him parts of it? What was best for him?

John sat there quietly, as though he knew her quandary. But after a few moments he said, “Marlena, it’s been a long time since you saw me last. Over a quarter of a century. A lot must have happened in your life during that time. Did you get married? Have children?” He asked without any apparent jealousy or sorrow. He seemed to just want to know.

“I have children, yes. And I was married. My husband passed away last year.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. He died suddenly. His heart gave out.”

“That must have been hard for you and your children.”

“Yes, it’s something I haven’t entirely come to terms with, I must admit.”

“Mourning takes time, doesn’t it?” He said that with a wistful tone, as though he was quite familiar with that feeling of unresolved grief.

“John, has there been someone in your life? You haven’t been alone, have you?” Since she had not been able to be with him, she hoped he had found another to love. She had had mixed feelings when he had married Isabella back in 1992, but she knew it had been the right thing for him, and it had given her a chance to re-cement her relationship with Roman.

“You’ve lived in Salem how long?” he asked.

Marlena thought he was changing the subject because he didn’t want to answer her question, but she didn’t say that. Instead, she replied, “Since 1976.”

“Well, I haven’t been so stationary. My work sent me all over the globe. So, I didn’t put down roots the way you obviously did. But, yeah, I had a few relationships that were important to me. The problem is, falling in love in my business can put the loved one in danger. I learned that the hard way. A woman I cared for was killed, and it was my fault. If we hadn’t been lovers, she wouldn’t have died.”

Marlena wanted to say no, her death wasn’t your fault. But she knew her saying that would not salve his guilt.

He continued, unaware of Marlena’s thoughts: “Another lady and I parted ways because it was too tough on both of us to see each other only for a few days before I had to leave again.”

Curious, Marlena pointed out, “But you’re retired now. You could have reignited that relationship…”

“She got married about five years ago. Besides, I don’t think I was truly in love with her. It turned out for best, I guess.”

“Oh.” Marlena thought for a moment. “John, I know you said you worked for the government. Can you give any further specifics? And, I mean, you could have quit, couldn’t you? If you had wanted a steady life with one of the women you met?”

“It’s not that simple. Yes, I’m out of it now. But it really was my life.” He regarded her as though trying to decide something. She thought he was weighing, again, how much, he should tell her. We both are doing that too much, she told herself silently.

Marlena decided to take a little leap herself. “Did you work for the ISA?” She really didn’t think so, because if he had been doing that, surely, Shane or Roman or somebody with contacts in that covert intelligence organization would have told her John was alive.

John’s right eyebrow rose in that old reaction she knew so well. “You know about the ISA?”

“I know some people who were agents in it,” she replied.

“Ah. No, I wasn’t in the ISA.”

Marlena wanted to say, “Yes, you did some work for it during your Salem years.” But she didn’t. It would complicate things, and she hoped he was about to say which organization he did work for.

John didn’t disappoint her this time. “I worked for a very obscure — more obscure than the ISA — group. You’ll keep this confidential, right?”

She nodded quickly.

“It’s called The American International Affairs Foundation (AIAF). It hides by not advertising itself in any way. Has no website. Never seeks publicity. No brick-and-mortar office with a sign for the public to enter. No telephone number on any easily found registry. In order to reach it, one has to know it exists and how to find it. Usually, it finds the people it wants, not the other way around.”

“Did it find you?”

He nodded. “Yep.” He got to his feet, holding his cane, and assured her, “I just need to stretch my legs.” He walked up and down between the alcove and the door for a while. When he was ready to sit again he said, “Earlier in the hospital you said I had memory problems when I was in Salem. What didn’t I remember?”

Marlena decided to disclose this. “Your life before you came to Salem,” she told him.

“All of it?”

“Yes.”

“Whew. Didn’t know that. Did I know then what or who caused that amnesia?”

“We had some ideas. Someone did it to you. But the suspects were very slippery, and no one was directly brought to justice for that crime against you.”

“We?”

Marlena felt a little flustered. “Yes, we. That is you and I. But also Abe Carver and others with you two in law enforcement.”

John’s eyes bored into hers for a moment. Before he could muster up another statement or question, Marlena begged, “Please, tell me, how and when you started working for that foundation?”

Marlena watched him shift gears again, and he said ponderously, “The short story about that is I went into the army after college. I became a Ranger and then a Green Beret. But then the army diverted me, and I went to pilot’s school. I learned to fly several kinds of helicopters and planes. At a certain point, I was ordered to report to a major who introduced me to a guy who wanted to recruit me for the AIAF. I had the skills they wanted, and I was an ideal candidate because I had no immediate living family.” His voice dropped more as he said, “Both my parents died in a car accident when I was 19, and the only sibling I had — a little brother named James — died when he was two months old — from SIDS. That’s why I said earlier that I didn’t have any twin brother or any living one.”

“Oh, John. I’m sorry about your parents dying when you were so young. And also about your brother.” Marlena remembered the death of her firstborn, D. J., the premature son who belonged to her and Don. She added, “I had a child who died of SIDS too. I know what a heartache that is.”

She saw the sympathy in his face as he asked, “When was this?”

“I was married to a lawyer named Don Craig for a while during my early years in Salem. D. J. was our son. That marriage didn’t last, but it wasn’t because of D. J.”

She shook herself out of that memory, and guided John back to himself, but instead of tracking back to his life before or after Salem, she suddenly smiled and guessed, “You know your real birthday now, don’t you?”

He registered surprise at the sudden change of topic, but gamely gave a nod. “Yah, September 29.”

“Just a couple weeks ago. Happy Birthday!” she said.

“Thanks.” Aren’t you going to ask about the year? You never knew how old I actually was, did you?”

“That’s true. It was a mystery to all of us including you.”

He shrugged affably. “1953.” Marlena thought to herself their surmise about him being a little younger than she had been correct. Before she could get another word in though, he continued, “I guess I must have picked a date out of the air and celebrated that way? Or did I just forget the whole thing?”

Marlena looked a little uncomfortable again.

“What?” he asked.

“Oh, nothing. Yes, you picked a date — part of the time.”

“Huh?” He looked confused. Seeing her reluctance again, he said, “Oh, I get it. You don’t want to tell me.”

Defensively, Marlena pleaded, “I know you don’t understand, but it’s complicated. Frankly, if I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”

“Try me,” he demanded. “I’ve got a right to know. It’s my life we’re talking about.”

“Of course, but it’s also other people’s lives, John.”

He got up again, and this time she did too. Marlena went to John and her hand went to his arm. “John. Oh my gosh, you don’t know what a true miracle it was to see you today. I thought you were dead. We looked for you! I looked. Abe, Roman, Bo and Hope, Shane, everybody did their part. And we looked again in 2001. But there was no sign of you. You had just disappeared off the face of the earth! I guess Shane didn’t know about your AIAF. He ran the ISA for a while, and if anyone should have been able to find you, it was him. But he couldn’t. Of course, you were using a different name, so that was one problem. But even if that hadn’t been an impediment, I doubt –”

“What name did I go by in Salem?” He asked her.

“John Black.”

He raised both his eyebrows. “So I seem to have remembered my first name, but not my last. Huh. No middle name?”

“No”, she said, “Do you have one?”

“Finley. John Finley Darrow. John Garber Darrow was my father’s name. His middle name was his mother’s maiden name, and Finley was my mother’s maiden name.”

“Finley,” she tried it out. “John Finley Darrow. I like it.”

He grinned. “Glad to hear it.” He started walking back and forth again. “Sorry. My leg’s improving, but I’ve got to exercise it.”

“I understand.” Marlena poured herself a glass of water from the pitcher on the little table. “Would you like some?” she asked.

“Please.” Both of them drank thirstily.

Taking both empty glasses, she put them down and when she turned around, he was so close she nearly collided with him. Marlena looked up at John, and her attention inclined up to the scar on his left temple. Without thinking, she reached up and drew her first two fingers down it lightly. John flinched slightly, reacting to her touch by a slight jerk of his head.

“I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”

“No. It’s healed up now,” he said a little hoarsely.

“Sorry,” she said again, realizing she had no right to touch him at all. She was about to remove her fingers when he reached up with his free right hand and held her hand there, lightly caressing the back of it.

“It’s okay,” he assured her. “I got that scar the same time I broke my leg. And those were just the visible injuries. I had internal injuries, internal bleeding, broken ribs, and a fractured skull. It’s what happens when you fall down a steep, very long ravine. Basically, going off a cliff.”

Somewhat mesmerized by being so close to John and them touching, Marlena nevertheless also was appalled that he’d been in such a terrible “accident”. She managed to say, “I’m sure you didn’t take that fall without some help, did you?”

“Oh, that’s a fact,” John said softly, also seeming mesmerized by her. “I had plenty of help from a really bad guy I’d been after for months. And I wasn’t the only one at the bottom of that ravine. He came with me. He’s getting over his even worse injuries in prison.”

Marlena licked her lips, smiled and told him, “You used to say ‘that’s a fact’ fairly often. It was kind of a signature of yours. I’m happy to hear you still do.”

“I guess I do. Never really thought about it, but maybe that’s just because I’ve never really had anyone around long enough to get sick of me saying it and tell me to stop it.”

“I’ll tell you another thing about yourself, John,” Marlena said tenderly. “You were my knight in shining armor. You saved me from some jerks in a bar, and from being mugged — or worse — just a few days after we met. And that was only the beginning. You were there for me so many, many times.”

Soberly he pointed out, “I guess I failed you when you got kidnapped, Marlena.”

She shook her head firmly. “No. You never failed me.” She backtracked a bit then. “Also, you’re not the only one who took a fall. Only mine was off a building when I was trying to convince a troubled young man to get off the ledge. I ended up on the pavement with a head injury of my own. I spent months in the hospital in a coma. You were there for me then. Really, truly. If it hadn’t been for your persistence, I might never have come out of that coma, but you kept coming and talking to me, demanding, sometimes really forcefully, that I wake up. People told me that later. And your stubbornness paid off. I came back.”

John now touched her chin, tapping it lightly. “I wish I remembered all that,” he said so quietly she almost didn’t catch it.

Marlena smiled sweetly at him. “You used to do that too.”

“What?”

“Tap my chin. It was one of many of your habits I found very dear.”

John smiled a little sadly. Taking her hand again, he brought it to his lips and kissed it. “I should go.”

“John –”

“It would be really easy for me to stay. And you’d let me. But it wouldn’t be fair to you. I don’t remember. I’m sorry. I just don’t. And if I stayed here tonight and we were together, I’d be making love with a beautiful woman. A beautiful, intelligent, lovely woman. But I wouldn’t be making love with a woman I know. You think you know me, and you probably do know me — that me I was in Salem. But you haven’t seen or known me in over twenty-seven years. And — I’m so sorry — but I don’t know you. I want to. But I don’t yet. A man can be intimate with a woman without the emotional attachment, but a woman needs that bond, I think. I don’t want to deprive you of that. You deserve to have everything, not just a partial experience.”

Hearing that, Marlena’s emotions overflowed. She wanted to cry with the gratefulness she felt that he was here and able to say something so beautiful and thoughtful to her, but she didn’t want to break down in front of him. She didn’t want John to feel sorry for her. She needed to keep it together at least until he had gone.

She put her arm through his right one and led him to the door. Before opening it for him, she said, “We just took a tiny dip into the pool of the past. There’s so much more that I want to know about your life, and so much that you absolutely need to know about Salem. We’re going to get that knowledge to you. I’ll do everything I can to help you remember, but even if you don’t, I promise you will know what happened in those years.”

“Okay,” he said, and she saw that he was having trouble holding himself together too.

Quickly she pulled the door inward, and told him, “I have to work tomorrow, but I’ll be finished again at 4:30. May I meet you somewhere at that time?”

John didn’t miss a beat. “Would you like a home-cooked meal? I have a few dishes I can prepare pretty well. And my apartment is about a mile and a half from here. If you’d like, I’ll pick you up at the hospital tomorrow afternoon. Out in the parking lot?

Marlena beamed at him. “I’d love that.”

Giving her a bit of a comic leer, he said, “It’s a date.” And he slowly made his way down the corridor.

Marlena closed the door, and promptly slid down it until she sat on the floor, her feet out straight in front of her. Then it all broke loose. From deep inside her, the tangled emotions of today all burst out. It wasn’t just a matter of tears flowing down her face, although they did. Actually, her whole body engaged in a rite of purging, of raw expression. She cried from her core, huge heaves making it nearly impossible to breathe. She felt as though she could never be calm again while it held her in its sway.

Why was she going through this catharsis? Earlier when she’d broken down in the Physical Therapy waiting room with John by her side, she’d felt a dual sorrow — about Roman’s death and what they had thought was John’s death so long ago — now proved wrong. She had, in short, cried for the two men in her life who had meant the most to her.

Now, though, it wasn’t about Roman. It was about the life she had not had with John. If Roman had never come back, Marlena would have lived these last twenty-seven plus years with John. She had not let herself think that thought in those years with Roman, of course, but now she was free to think about what might have been. And the pain of it just wracked her. Because of the circumstances of his leaving, they had not said good-bye. And she had expected him to return. But he never had. Even though she found out in 2001 where he’d gone back in 1992, she still never saw him again until today. And there had been so many times in those years that she had longed for him to be there — even just as a friend. He had missed so much that he should have been able to share in.

So her grief, her rage even, came from the futile question, “Why?” Why had things turned out the way they had? Even though her grief now wasn’t about Roman, he still played a part in this grief because she thought if she hadn’t had to be Roman’s wife, she could have been John’s. And that increased her anguish because, the truth was, she’d loved Roman. She didn’t want to consign him to nonexistence. The years with him had been pretty damn good. Maybe twenty-seven years with John would have ended up being more difficult, more of a rollercoaster. Who knew? She was only one woman, and she could only have one husband in the world she and they lived in. No, she would never wish Roman away. But she could not stop the misery that coughed, choked, cried, wheezed, and hiccupped out of her body.

Even though she hadn’t seen John all these years, she had missed him with every cell, every fiber. Out of sight, out of mind, they say. To a degree, yes. She could sometimes bury her love for him. But even though he wasn’t in Salem, he had left parts of himself behind, and those always brought him back into her mind and heart. She never revealed that to Roman. But she knew he knew it just the same. It always rode the back of their marriage like a freight hopper illegally jumping aboard a train.

And why, now when she’d actually found John, did it seem they might still be destined for an unhappy ending? What if he never remembered? What if she and everything in Salem that awaited him could not gain purchase with him now? It was something she couldn’t bear to contemplate.

The waves of anger, sorrow, guilt, and frustration crashed through her until she finally exhausted herself. When her body ended its tantrum and was quiet, she shakily got up off the cold tile floor, changed into nightclothes, brushed her teeth, and got between the sheets. Wearily she looked at the ceiling.

John had been right. She’d wanted him to stay. She knew too that he had made the right decision to go. Yes, she wanted him here with her. But she wanted the man she loved and who loved her. That man had yet to make an appearance. So, she again made a vow: she would find a way to help him remember.

As she slipped off to slumberland, Marlena thanked God for the incredible gift of seeing John again today. She would make sure that gift was not wasted.

Thursday

Marlena woke with a jolt. She felt disjointed, unanchored. With a rush, everything about yesterday came back to her. She also recalled that because John had crowded everything else out of her consciousness, she had not called any family last night. That was okay though. They weren’t likely to compare notes every day to find out who’d been called the night before. She wasn’t sure she would call anyone tonight because she wasn’t yet ready to tell them about finding John, and she suspected if she were to call, she wouldn’t be able to keep the excitement from her voice.

She really didn’t want to go to work. For the first time since she’d come to Palo Alto, she wanted to call in sick and see John instead. He’d said he was retired, and, of course, his leg still kept him from being fully physically fit, so she had no idea what he did all day. He’d told her he lived less than two miles from this hotel, but she didn’t know the address. No phone number either. That made her a little anxious. What if he got so nervous that he skipped town? She shook her head ruefully. No, he wouldn’t. Would he?

Although Marlena could make no claim to being a great internet detective, she supposed she might be able to find his address and phone number on one of the people search sites. Getting out of bed, she fired up the ipad and checked. Good thing he’d given her his full name. Sami had told her about a pretty reliable search site, and when she typed his name and the city in, one entry came up. It did give a Palo Alto address as his current residence. It also listed a couple other US addresses, one in another California city and the other in Washington D.C., as his prior American residences. Concerning phone numbers, there were a few. One was wireless, one a landline with a Palo Alto area code, and the others were probably landlines from his previous residences. Marlena jotted down the pertinent numbers and the address. But she knew she would not do anything with them unless he did not turn up this afternoon.

Reluctantly, she did force herself to go to work. After all, she could not justify showing up at John’s home. And so until 4:30, she might as well occupy herself doing some good for others if possible.

The day did drag, and she also remonstrated with herself several times because she found herself daydreaming about John instead of listening intently to the patient.

Just before 4:30, she freshened up in the ladies’ room and practically ran (she didn’t really) for the parking lot.

Once outside, she looked around for the blue Cherokee. She didn’t see it. Checking her watch, it said 4:32. Okay, he was a little late. No big deal — although, the John she’d known had been a stickler for punctuality.

Five minutes later, uneasiness began to creep in. The temptation to call his cell number grew. No, she told herself sternly. He’s not that late yet.

She was facing out toward the parking lot and away from the hospital doors. Behind her, the automatic door opened often as people left the building. Suddenly to her left, John came from the rear and stood beside her.

“Oh,” she exclaimed, taken by surprise at his sudden appearance from a direction she hadn’t expected.

“Sorry!” he said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, that’s okay. I just didn’t realize you’d be in the building.”

“Yeah, I needed them to make an adjustment on the brace. I didn’t think it would take as long as it did. Sorry to keep you waiting out here.”

“That’s quite all right. Is the brace okay now?”

“We’ll see,” he said. “My car’s over there.” He pointed.

As he had yesterday, he opened the passenger door for her before going around to his side. Once they were buckled in and out of the parking lot, she said, “So, you live very close to the hospital?”

“Yes,” he agreed, “intentionally. I moved here a couple months ago because they have some specialists in the rehabilitation of bad breaks like mine.”

“How bad was it?”

“Very.” He chuffed wryly. “I don’t usually give details because most people would turn green. But you are a physician, so I’ll be a little more candid. My femur was fractured in multiple places because I landed on it before spilling forward and then hitting parts of the rest of my body including my chest and head. There were broken bone pieces sticking out of my skin. I had several types of fractures. Not only did I do great damage to the bone, but also to many of the muscles, tendons, etc. The doctors at my first hospital told me it usually takes at least six months for a femur break to heal. But I had to have multiple surgeries on it, and the healing time extended a lot. I was lucky they were willing to save it. One wanted to amputate it at the knee, and I put up a huge fight. They warned me it would probably never be anything close to what it was before the breaks, but they agreed to save it. It has been a long road. Right now, just about everything is as healed as it’s ever going to be. The brace is new though, and I’m getting used to it here. Once I do, I should be able to walk and even run without a cane. But I’ll probably never be able to shuck the brace.”

“That sounds like a very gruesome injury. I’m glad they respected your wishes about saving the leg, John. But, it must have meant a lot of pain along the way.”

“Yeah, it hasn’t been a picnic.”

John turned the Cherokee toward the curb and parked. “We’re here at my humble abode.”

The small apartment building along a quiet lane had a red exterior. John’s apartment was, surprisingly, on the second of the two floors. He told Marlena he wanted that so he’d have to climb stairs. They stopped in front of 1b, and John produced his key and let her in. Inside, the walls shone white, and black and red and white comprised the color scheme of the decor.

“I’m renting it furnished,” John informed her. “My plan was to stay here just as long as I needed to keep going to the hospital. Feel free to look around.”

“It’s a nice, spacious place, John. It’s got everything you need, right? And it is so conveniently close to the hospital.” She didn’t notice many personal items. There were some books — which told her he was still an avid reader. She saw no photos. She looked out the front window by the door. Through the trees out front, losing their leaves in the Fall, she saw the quiet street and a few residences on the other side. She thought it must be restful here at night. The kitchen wasn’t large, but it was well-equipped and next to it, a little table for two stood in the breakfast nook. The bathroom gleamed spic-and-span. The spartan bedroom contained only a queen-size bed, with a black bedspread, and a closet. The living area had a black couch with red pillows, an armchair, a large flat-screen, and a small desk in the corner. A few papers lay on the desk.

This, she thought, was definitely a temporary residence. She wondered if he had in mind a permanent place to live…maybe it was one of those other addresses she’d seen on the search site.

John busied himself in the kitchen, getting together his ingredients for the meal. She came in and smiled, “Well, this place kind of suits John Black — with all the black in the furnishings, etc.”

He smiled good-naturedly. “Who knows? It might be a subconscious thing, right? I have no idea why my other self chose that last name.”

“I know,” she replied, “You told me at one point that when you first came to Salem, you didn’t know your name and you needed one. You happened to see a sports trophy — no, a plaque — and you saw the name “John Black” on it and took it for your own.”

“Hmm. That makes sense, I guess.” He invited her to sit down at the little table. “You’re my guest, so you don’t have to lift a finger. But if you sit there, we can talk. Would you like something to drink?” Before she could answer, he added, “Unless you want to help? Do you find time to cook?”

Marlena laughed. A real laugh. Warm and rolling. John smiled at her reaction, but looked a little puzzled. “Okay. What’s the joke?”

“It’s funny because, no, I’m not known as a good cook. I don’t do it very much, and when I do, I’m afraid I often make rookie mistakes and end up spoiling the dish. My children kid me about it, as do others. In fact you did a few times too.”

“I see. Not very gallant of me.”

“Well, eggshells in omelettes aren’t exactly tasty.”

Marlena ended up with a small glass of white wine, and she watched John at work. “May I ask what you’re making?”

“Nothing fancy. I’m no chef. I’m making garlic butter pork chops, roasted brussel sprouts, and smashed potatoes. Plus a green salad. Hope you don’t mind about the garlic.”

“That sounds delicious,” she said sincerely, “and, no, I don’t mind about the garlic. One of my children loves an excessive amount of it on spaghetti and other foods.” After she said this, she wanted to kick herself because she didn’t really want the question that he naturally asked.

“How many children do you have? Are they all grown, or not yet?”

But she decided she could answer truthfully without telling him things she didn’t want to yet. “My husband — this is my second husband, not Don Craig whom I mentioned yesterday — had a daughter from his first marriage when we wed. Then I gave birth to twins, a boy and a girl. Later, we adopted two other children, another boy and another girl. All of them are adults now.”

“Phuw. That’s a pretty big brood, Doc.”

Marlena, sipping her wine at the moment he said that, nearly spluttered it from the shock. “Doc.” But she quickly tamped down her joy at hearing it. She was sure he hadn’t said it because he remembered.

Coughing a little to get the wine out of the wrong pipes, she took another sip without incident and then agreed. “Yes, our house was filled with activity for a lot of years. But now, they’re all on their own. After my husband died, I sold the house and now live in a townhouse closer to University Hospital where I’m on staff. It’s by the river, and it has three bedrooms so the kids can come visit.”

John, making noise grilling and boiling and frying, gave her an encouraging look. “That makes sense. What do your children do as adults?”

“Oh my. The oldest lives in Los Angeles with her husband. She’s an attorney, and he’s an accountant. The twins went in different directions. Eric became a priest, and he serves as pastor at a small church in the next town over from Salem. Sami lives in Switzerland with her husband and three kids whom I don’t get to see very much. My other daughter is a doctor — a pediatrician. She and her husband have twins too — two little boys. They live nearby. And my other son, also still in Salem, works in the corporate world, at a company called Titan. He’s not married yet.”

John looked impressed. “A family to be proud of. Los Angeles is about 350 miles from here. Have you gone to visit your daughter? Or have she and her husband been here to see you?”

Marlena nodded. “The first weekend I was here, I flew down to see them. We did talk about them coming up here before I went back to Salem, but I don’t know if that will happen. They are very much in demand in their professions.”

“Well so are you! Isn’t that so?” John asked, cocking his head at her from the stove.

Marlena blushed a little. “Yes, I suppose so.” She decided to change the subject. “Now it’s your turn. Will you tell me more about your family? Where did you grow up?”

Giving her a wink as he poured off the water from the potatoes, he replied, “I can do that. I was born here in California. In what used to be called “The Chicken Capital of the World,” Petaluma. Chicken coops all over the countryside outside the city limits. It’s about forty miles north of San Francisco, and let me tell you, back when the chickens were king, the smell could be unbelievable. I’m glad we lived in the city limits. My best friend lived on a chicken farm and every time I visited him, the stench worked its way into my nostrils.”

“That does sound bad.”

“Anyway, my dad and mom got married there too in 1952 after my dad finished his stint in Korea. He was in the MPs, and when he became a civilian again, he decided he wanted to be a sheriff’s deputy. He worked his way up to investigator, and then got the undersheriff’s job. When I was eleven, he ran for sheriff and became the main man. He won reelection repeatedly, and was still sheriff when he and my mother got creamed by a drunk driver in their regular, non-law enforcement Buick.”

“That is a terrible tragedy, John. Again, I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, me too. The thing is, it wasn’t just a run-of-the-mill drunk driver. I didn’t know that when it happened, but later on, I found there was a lot more to it. I can’t go into it, but I will say that justice was served — at least as much as it could be. It couldn’t bring my parents back, obviously.”

“No. The world doesn’t allow us that. At least not usually.” She mulled that for a bit, but then moved on, “Was your mother a housewife (as they used to say) the way mine was?”

“Mm. No. She had a job as a bank manager. Well, she worked her way up. I think she started as a teller. But back then the banks routinely closed at 3 pm, so by the time I got home from after school sports, she was around.”

Marlena gave him a wide grin. “You loved baseball, right?”

Now it was John’s turn to really laugh. “Yeah. How’d you guess? Don’t tell me. I used baseball metaphors, told endless baseball stories, and quoted box scores to you and anybody else who’d listen, didn’t I?”

“Bingo!”

He was busy putting the chops on the two plates, and then adding the spuds and the sprouts. He gave the salad a quick toss, and began bringing everything they needed to the little table. He muttered to himself, “Flatware. Napkins.”

Marlena quickly said, “Tell me which drawers, and I’ll get them.”

He did, and soon they were both seated and ready to enjoy the dinner.

“It smells and looks delicious.” Marlena praised.

“Hope it tastes that way too,” John said.

It did. Marlena, for once, ate everything on her plate. Seeing that, John looked pleased as punch. They drank a little more wine with the meal, and John offered dessert, but Marlena said she couldn’t possibly manage another bite.

Just as they finished, John’s cell phone rang. Checking it, he said he needed to take it, and he excused himself and went into his bedroom and closed the door.

Marlena knew it was pointless to be curious, so instead she busied herself cleaning up the kitchen. John’s call took quite a while, and when he came out, the dishes were rinsed and in the dishwasher.

“Hey, you didn’t have to do that,” he said.

“I wanted to. My pleasure.”

“Thank you,” he said graciously. Then he asked her if she’d like to have a seat on the living room couch. He pulled over his desk chair. Once they were settled, he spoke immediately, “I’d been waiting for that call. Yesterday you asked me a few times about the possibility of doing hypnosis, and I shot you down each time.

“The truth is that I have been hypnotized more than once, trying to regain all my memories. Now maybe that hypnotist isn’t as skilled or doesn’t have as much experience as you do. But, for whatever reason, those attempts were futile. In fact, I’m not even sure I was actually hypnotized. I mean, how does one really know unless there are results, and we didn’t get any.”

Marlena felt she should speak up here, “When you came to Salem and didn’t know who you were, we tried hypnosis a few times. And you did remember a few things. I can’t say you had a huge breakthrough and suddenly everything came back, because, no, that didn’t happen. But you definitely were able to respond to hypnosis techniques.”

“Okay, good to know. After I got home last night, I thought a lot about what you’d said. Especially the part about there being things I need to know about Salem, about the life I had there.” He seemed nervous and got up, pacing as though trying to burn off the nerves. Stopping by the desk, he perched on the corner, “I want to know it all. And I especially want to know what happened with us.” He waved his index finger between himself and Marlena.

“And I want you to know.”

“Yes,” he said. “But we were at kind of a standoff yesterday. So, today, I called the director of the AIAF, and that was him calling back. I asked him to let you do the hypnosis. It took a while because I had to explain who you were and what happened yesterday, etc. Since he doesn’t know you, he was a little suspicious. The point is that he’s going to come here. He said he’ll let you do it as long as he is present so you don’t learn any secrets you shouldn’t know. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

Marlena was stunned. “Wow, John. That’s great. That’s wonderful.” She rose from the couch and went over to him. “Thank you for doing that. I know it kind of went against your instincts, and that probably, you still think that since it didn’t work before, it may be a waste of time to try it again. But all I can say is that we can try. One advantage might be that I do know what happened in Salem — at least during the time I was there — and the other hypnotist — or was it more than one? — didn’t. So perhaps I can try to guide you to bring up some images that they wouldn’t have known about.”

Standing straight, John reached out and raised her chin a little with his knuckle. “I love that you have optimism. But I think there’s something I should tell you. Please, sit down” He moved back to his own seat, and so she did too.

“Sometime in 2001 or 2002, I was captured by a worldwide crime syndicate, run at the time by a murderous, blood-thirsty psycho named Raffaelle Estanza. I was held prisoner on an island and tortured and drugged for months. During that ordeal, I lost all sense of time, and I’m still not sure exactly how long I was held. The drugs they constantly gave me did something to my mind, and I wasn’t able to remember anything. If I was conscious, I was only barely aware of my surroundings. They said they wanted me to work for them, and if I would, they would stop the beatings, the electro-shock, and all the other things they did to break me.

“I finally said I would do their bidding. In order to have me in any shape to do anything for them, they had to give my body and mind a chance to heal at least a little. So, by agreeing to help them, I gained enough of a reprieve to finally be able to gather my senses. As I regained some physical strength, my mind came back too. At least some of it. I also pretended to still be sluggish and out of it more than I was so they’d leave me alone.

“It was then I realized I had memories of everything but a number of recent years. The thing was my brain had been so addled by the drugs that I didn’t realize I hadn’t known about my early life before. I didn’t realize somehow all this torment had given me the gift of regaining those memories. The problem was the drugs had made me trade blankness over the part of my life I’d remembered before. And I think it was an unintended consequence. I think crazy Raffaelle and his cohorts wanted to erase every bit of memory from me, but for some unexplained reason, it didn’t go according to their plan.

“When I recovered enough to have some sense of what was going on around me, I noticed a supply plane that came in regularly. I knew I didn’t have a lot of time to make a plan, but I managed to take a little time to figure out movements of the skeleton crew and others. I finally made my move before dawn early one morning in 2002, and commandeered the plane.

“Flying before daylight is extremely dangerous, especially in a plane with minimal instruments. But I had no choice. I knew by then I wasn’t too far from the Australian mainland, and I navigated there and safely landed on an airstrip I remembered from my earlier service with the AIAF — I think it belongs to the CIA though.

“Then, I contacted my old boss, whom I knew as ‘Lou Whistler’ (that’s not his real name). Needless to say, it stunned him to hear my voice. He thought I’d died on an operation in 1985. I went missing and until then, they’d heard nothing from me.

“I resumed working for the AIAF in June 2002 and in 2009, we were able to bring Raffaelle and many of his lieutenants to justice. In fact, we pretty much closed down the entire syndicate, with help from other agencies around the world. Once in a while, someone tries to revive the syndicate, but is shut down hard and quickly. By the way, the ISA also helped to put an end to Raffaelle’s terribly ruthless and violent organization. I guess though, from 1985 until 2002, I never remembered my pre-1985 past. What you’ve told me seems to corroborate that. There was just a complete block on it in my mind. Nothing could get past that. And now, I apparently have the same kind of block on the years 1985 – 2002. So, forgive me, but I’m not optimistic that we can overcome it.”

John finally stopped his extraordinary speech. Marlena had been listening with horror as he quite matter-of-factly talked about being tortured and drugged into oblivion.

“Oh, John, how can you be so dispassionate about what happened to you? I mean, thank God you got away, but all those months you suffered so much.” Just saying that much caused tears to well up in her eyes.

“Look, I won’t say it wasn’t excruciating, because it was. What they did left me with some scars, both physical and mental. But I got through it, so I’ve really tried not to think about it. I’m just telling you because I want you to understand the little I know about how I came to remember the early part of my life again. As I said, I didn’t even know I’d ever not remembered my early life. I couldn’t tell Lou where I’d been or why I’d gone AWOL from my operation. I didn’t know. He had every right not to trust me when I showed up again, and he probably didn’t for a while. But, as I began working long, complex undercover operations again, I guess I proved my trustworthiness or at least my ability to get the job done.”

“It just kills me that we had no idea what was being done to you. We looked for you again, I swear. But dammit, somehow, were unable to find you.”

“Don’t blame yourself. The world is a big place. But I don’t understand why you were looking for me again in 2001? You thought I was dead, didn’t you?

Marlena implored him with her eyes. “Can I give you the answer to that question after we try the hypnosis, please?

He sighed. “Yeah, I suppose I’ve already roped myself into trying the hypnosis first.” He sounded resigned and definitely not hopeful.

Marlena couldn’t stand it. Leaving the couch, she dropped down on her knees in front of John’s legs. She placed her hands on his knees and said, “Listen to me, John, please. You are not alone. I love you. I’ve loved you since the first time I met you. No matter what happens with your memory, I will always love you. It’s not conditional. It never was.” Her voice was cracking, and she knew she should stop. But she looked him directly in the eyes and, as she had tried once yesterday, she again willed him to remember, to allow his own love for her to surface.

Instead, John put his large, strong hands over hers. He said nothing. But he didn’t look away either. Finally, he leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead. He got to his feet and helped her up. “Come on. I think we’ve had enough drama for today. I’ll take you back to the hotel.”

Friday

It amazed Marlena that she’d gotten any sleep at all last night. At first she’d lain there all tense, replaying everything John told her about his captivity. Rage boiled in her that he’d been subjected to such inhumanity. Especially since she had no doubt it had happened before. She wished she (and some really sharp surgical instruments) could have fifteen minutes with that Raffaelle monster.

She also thought repeatedly about John’s belief that his memory block could not be broken through. She prayed earnestly and at length that he would be proven wrong. The early part of their evening had been easy and warm. They had both shared openly about their families. Marlena felt increasingly guilty about keeping things from John. She could not argue with his declaration the day before that he had a right to know. He unquestionably did have that right. Was she, in fact, being selfish by making him go through hypnosis when the chances of a breakthrough were minimal? Should she just skip the hypnosis and tell him the whole truth? Or, should she try something even more dramatic and persuade him to come back to Salem with her so he could see what he needed to see for himself? Maybe the shock of what he’d find there would shake that memory block loose!

Honestly, she knew part of the problem was she didn’t have the same kind of doctor/patient relationship with John that she did with Panny Green, Joe Catenacci, or her patients at home. She could be fairly objective about them. But, with John, she had interests too. And someplace in the back of her mind, she feared that when he knew the whole truth he might welcome others into his heart but reject her. And that would be unthinkable.

If Roman were still alive, she wondered, would she feel that way? She’d still be married to Roman. She knew she would have stayed married to Roman even if John had reappeared.

Was her widowhood making her cling unreasonably to John? Was she making things more awkward, more difficult for him? Had she made a colossal mistake when she’d declared her love for him? Did he perceive that as pity from her due to hearing of his brainwashing and torture?

All these questions and many others ate at her. But perhaps even her brain finally needed a rest, and she’d managed to sleep several hours.

Today was Friday, October 11, 2019. Her watch read 4:27 p.m. She would soon be meeting the AIAF director and then hypnotizing John. She was going to do it. She had to see whether it could tap into something.

John’s SUV idled outside at the loading zone when she emerged. She agilely seated herself before he could get out and open the door for her.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hey.” John smiled at her, and they were off.

“Has he arrived?”

“Yup. He’s at my place. When we get there, I’ll introduce you, and then he wants to talk to you in private a little, so I’ll make myself scarce until he texts me.”

“That’s not fair. It’s your house. We should be the ones to go somewhere else to talk.”

He waved his hand. “It’s not a problem.”

When John parked, and they approached his front door, Marlena felt the butterflies of unease and nervousness. In a way, she wanted to impress this mysterious director. But, simultaneously, she also wanted to challenge him.

As they entered, Marlena saw a man about 5’ 10” and 200 lbs. in casual clothes; gray overtaking the sparse, once black, hair; a neatly trimmed, close beard also graying; a face that was otherwise very forgettable. The man came close, and John said, “Doctor Marlena Evans, this is David Smith. David, Marlena Evans.”

Even as she automatically reached out to shake his cool, firm hand, Marlena couldn’t suppress a faint smirk. “Not your real name, Mr. Smith?”

Smith smiled congenially. “It’s for your protection, Doctor Evans.” He looked at John, “Sorry, my friend, to kick you out for a little while.”

“No worries.” And with a reassuring nod to Marlena, John blew out the door again.

Marlena really wished John hadn’t abandoned her. She just wasn’t sure how to approach this man, or, for that matter, what he wanted to talk about in private.

“Shall we sit?” Smith asked her. When she seated herself on the black couch, he occupied the armchair. “Please call me David,” he invited. “I’m sorry if this all seems unnecessarily cloak and dagger to you. But in the business we’re in, one can’t be too careful.”

Thinking it better to be amenable than confrontational, she replied graciously, “Please call me Marlena. I do understand a need for caution, David.”

“Good. I hope you won’t take offense, but I have looked into your background, so I know you are a very respected psychiatrist, and I know you have treated patients with amnesia, using, sometimes, hypnosis. Don’t worry. I didn’t snoop into the confidential particulars of your patients.”

“Alright,” she said guardedly, “So you know I’m not a quack, and perhaps I might be able to assist John.”

David smiled. “I think I know you want to. Uh, John told me a few things you told him. For instance, that he went by the name ‘John Black’ while in Salem. Once I knew just those two facts, I could find out quite a bit about what happened back then. As I think you told him, he was a prominent citizen of Salem. I think you know too that John could have done, even on his own laptop, pretty much the same search I did. He doesn’t have to rely on you to learn about his life back then. At least — for some of it. I’m sure you could fill him in on many details that don’t appear in news articles, driver’s licenses, or other public records.”

Marlena regarded the director coolly. “I beg your pardon. Are you trying to warn me off?”

David quickly shook his head, “No –”

“Because, believe me, you won’t. And since you brought up the subject of searching John’s Salem identity, here’s a question for you. You’re the current director of an elite, super secret counterintelligence agency. John mentioned someone with an alias, ‘Lou Whistler,” being his boss in earlier years, but I’m guessing you’re a different person. You seem to be in your mid-fifties…”

David interrupted mildly, “I’m sorry. I’m not hearing a question.”

Marlena sat forward a little, “Why, when John escaped his syndicate tormentors in 2002 and made himself known to the AIAF again, didn’t your organization scour every avenue possible to find out what had happened to John during the sixteen-seventeen years you thought he was dead?” As she formed this long question, she gradually got more emotional and her voice increased in volume.

Before the director could answer, she hurried on, “For instance, facial recognition. You just said that you could access his driver’s licenses from that time period. His photo obviously adorns them! If the AIAF — or for that matter, the ISA, CIA, FBI, what have you — had done that back in 2002, putting together his identity as John Black should have been doable!”

“And as Roman Brady too.” David deadpanned.

Marlena drew in a sharp breath. She had to be calm. She could not lose her head. “Yes. That identity too.”

David Smith did not avoid her eyes. She decided he was always calculating, always measuring others and rationing out his responses — if he gave any.

He got up and said, as he went into the kitchen. “I need something to drink. What would you like?”

Marlena wanted to snap back, “Nothing. I just want an honest answer to my question, and I don’t appreciate your deflection.” Again, restraining her first inclination, she followed him into the kitchen and quietly said, “Yes, I could use some water.”

They both drank, leaving some liquid in their respective glasses. Standing there, David said, “As you pointed out, I wasn’t in charge back in 2002. Lou’s been retired for about ten years now. There was another director between him and me, but he didn’t like being tied to a desk, and chose to go back into field work after five years. I think you can guess who that was.”

Marlena was both surprised and yet not, by that revelation.

“But yes, in 2002, Lou Whistler ran the AIAF. I was in another agency at the time, so I can’t speak at all to why Lou did or didn’t do things. I never worked for Lou, and I’ve only met him once or twice. I have no idea if he ever ran facial recognition in 2002. It’s certainly not in John’s file, if he did. John himself — who has gone by many names during his clandestine AIAF service, as we all have — could have authorized such a search. It doesn’t seem he did, does it? When you met him the other day, he didn’t have any knowledge of that approximately sixteen years, did he? And that time span doesn’t just include his life in Salem. As you know, nine of those years he spent elsewhere.”

Marlena stared at him, trying to see if he was testing her. She decided to be upfront. “I know where he was during that period.”

David gave a noncommittal swipe of his head. “Okay. You’re one up on me there.” He didn’t push for an answer. Instead he took a few more swallows of his water.

Marlena decided to be honest again. “It frustrates me no end that a supposedly elite intelligence organization didn’t extend itself to find out about the missing years of one of its senior operatives!”

David accepted her frustrated exclamation without rancor. “I understand. I guess I could try to find out from Lou. It’s possible though that John already did that, so perhaps when the time is right, you might ask him about it.”

He folded his arms and continued, “Look, I know you are personally involved in all this. So, from my point of view, you aren’t the ideal person to hypnotize John. No matter how much you try, you aren’t going to be able to be truly objective.”

Marlena, of course, had wrestled with that very fact herself last night. But she countered, “I won’t deny there can be downsides to my conducting the hypnosis. However, I’ve done this before with John, and, as I told him yesterday, there might be an advantage in my knowing some of what went on in that timeframe he doesn’t remember. Maybe I can steer him — within proper limits — so that his mind will give up some of those locked memories.”

David took both now-empty glasses, went to the sink, rinsed them, and put them into the dishwasher. Then he turned toward her again, his hands resting on the counter on either side of him. “John isn’t just my colleague. He brought me into the AIAF and mentored me to take his place as director. But he’s also a dear friend. I know he told you he’s retired because of the grave injuries he sustained when he finally was able to corner one of our top and most dangerous fugitives.

“What I’m sure he didn’t mention was that he saved the lives of three young agents (two AIAF and one DIA). They had stumbled upon this villain and four other desperate fugitives ahead of John. The terrorists (that’s what they were) were about to execute our operatives. John neutralized four of them, but the main terrorist took off into the wilderness. The three agents were manacled and shackled and could not free themselves immediately to follow. John caught up with the terrorist, and they had a Herculean struggle. Unfortunately, they too closely imitated Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty at Reichenbach Falls.

“The point is, John acted heroically. And not for the first time in the line of duty. He will never receive any public recognition for his dedication to hunting down and arresting mega villains, but there are plenty of people walking around today who owe their lives to him and who would gladly repay their debt of gratitude to him. I’m one. I wouldn’t be here now if he hadn’t had my back. I want to help him remember. I want you to help him remember. Let’s be on the same side.”

Marlena had tears in her eyes again. She was impatient with herself for being so emotional, but how could she not be when she heard testimonies like David’s. She gave him a small smile. “Thank you for telling me that, David. Yes, let’s both help him.” She held out her hand again. “Deal!”

David and she shook, and he echoed, “Deal.” He produced his phone and with lightning thumbs texted John.

A few minutes later, the front door opened, and John stuck his head in. “All clear? I see the place is still standing,” he joked.

They both grinned a little self-consciously.

Marlena glanced at David and then said to John, “We’re ready if you are.”

“Ookkayy. I guess I am too.”

Marlena asked John to sit in the softer chair in the living room because it had arms and the hard desk chair didn’t. When he asked why she explained, “Occasionally people tip over when they’re under, and the arms will keep you from falling out of the chair.”

“Over when they’re under, stay in instead of falling out, got it,” John said, but good-naturedly. This time Marlena sat in the desk chair fairly close in front of him. She politely relegated David to one of the kitchen chairs, and he was asked to sit far behind John. He could still hear everything but he wasn’t in the immediate vicinity.

Once everyone was comfortable, Marlena began, “We can try the old stand-by in which you count back slowly from 100 and as you do that you relax your body…or we can try the ‘metronome’ method first which works more quickly with some people.”

“Okay, let’s try the metronome,” John requested.

Marlena fished her phone out of her purse and pulled up the app she’d acquired for that purpose. She adjusted the sound level and the speed of the ‘click’ ‘click’ ‘click’ of the timekeeper. A graphic of a metronome actually appeared on the screen too with the arm moving rhythmically back and forth. She held it out in front of her at a good height for his eyes and said, “All right, just relax and follow the pendulum back and forth with your eyes. Let it lull you. Let your mind go blank as you do that. Don’t worry about anything. Don’t think about anything.” She gave all these instructions in a lulling voice that kept time with the pendulum. She continued to speak quietly about relaxing his arms, his legs, etc. “Keep watching the pendulum, John. Your eyes are relaxing too now. They feel heavy. They are closing, but you aren’t asleep. Close your eyes. Listen to the sound of the pendulum.”

Marlena had been able to hypnotize him years ago. She felt confident she could do so again, although she wasn’t certain because there had been instances where her subjects just wouldn’t cooperate.

After a time, Marlena turned the sound of the metronome down. “Can you hear me, John? Nod if you do.” He nodded.

Marlena believed they were ready. She had thought out in advance how she planned to conduct this. “John, I want you to stay relaxed and let your mind move freely for a bit. Your mind is no longer blank, but remembering your childhood. Only good memories of being a little boy are coming to you. And it isn’t just a memory now, John. You are there. You are feeling it, seeing it. Smelling it. Hearing it.” She noticed his face relaxed even more and a trace of a smile came, then a bigger one. “Where are you, John, and what’s going on?”

“We’re in my room. I’m in bed. Mommy is reading me my favorite book about CURIOUS GEORGE. Daddy just came in and he’s behind Mommy making silly Curious George monkey faces at me, and I’m giggling instead of falling asleep.” John laughed out loud.

“That’s wonderful, John. Okay, now we’re going to move forward in your life. You’re in high school. Think of a really great memory and put yourself in it.”

After a pause, John said, “I’m with my best friend, Dan McCray. We’re in the locker room looking at the just posted names of who made the varsity baseball team this season.” He broke into a wide grin. “We both did!”

Marlena enthusiastically cheered that. Somehow, she’d known baseball would be involved. “Okay, you’re doing great, John. Now, move forward in time again. Think of when you learned how to fly. Remember something happy about that.”

John frowned. Marlena thought maybe she’d thrown a wrench into the “happy” theme. Maybe flying instruction had been really stressful 100% of the time. She thought about changing course and asking him to think of something else, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, John’s face cleared and he chuckled.

“What is it?” she prompted.

“I’m in the cockpit of the Beechcraft C-12 Huron. I’m nervous as hell because I’d only done simulations and studied theory up to this point. I’m pretty sure I’m going to be sick. I’m looking around wildly for an air sickness bag. I’m getting desperate. I don’t want to puke on the instruments. I unbuckle my harness, flee the plane, and am sick on the tarmac toward the back of the aircraft. My instructor comes up behind me, looks at the mess on the ground and says casually, “Here’s your trouble, Darrow. You ate that creamed chicken shit for lunch. Never, ever shovel that down before a flight. Then he claps me on the back and says, ‘Come on. You’ll be fine now.’ “ John laughed again, clearly getting a charge out of that recollection. Behind him, Marlena can see David preventing himself from laughing audibly too.

“So you don’t have nerves flying anymore then?”

“Nope. Never again.”

Marlena smiled too. “Glad to hear it, John. You picked a perfect memory. Now, I want you to move ahead again. Are you doing all right? You feel okay?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Good. Now, go to your Salem years and pick a happy time there.” She held her breath.

John looked blank. “Salem?” he asked.

“Yes, John, you remember. You came to Salem in December 1985. You stayed for seven years. Relax and let your mind take you there, okay?” She waited. She could see his eyes moving with rapid eye movement, his body becoming rigid.

Again, Marlena spoke comfortingly, “Don’t try to force anything, John. Relax and let the memories come. This isn’t a contest. If nothing comes, that’s fine. But relax, and maybe you’ll get something. I’m going to help you a little, okay?

“Okay”, he said, but he still looked tense, although the rapid eye movement had stopped (which Marlena wasn’t sure was a good thing). “Okay,” she repeated, “John here is a ‘great’ memory. You and I just went on our first date, and now we’re on the pier, and we’re talking about the date. It’s kind of cold so we’re wearing jackets, and there’s a brisk breeze off the river. What’s funny is that you keep saying everything we did and ate was great. And you are throwing little bits of something you picked up into the river as you talk.” She waited again.

“Salem?” John said, as if he hadn’t heard anything she’d just related.

“Yes, Salem, Illinois.”

“I knew you there?” he asked.

“Yes, John, you did,” she said more emphatically than she probably should have.

“I’ve been to lots of places. What’s it look like?”

“It’s by a river. It has a town square, a university, hospital, police –”

“Fish….’My pop sells fresh fish!’ “

Marlena was stunned

John started to get agitated. “No, my dad didn’t own a fish mar — he was a sheriff!”

Marlena reached out and put her hand on his knee. “John. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’ll explain that to you later. But let the fish market go and let your mind find something else, something happy, in Salem. Here are some other people you knew in Salem:” She began to name them slowly, looking for any reaction when she said each one, “Bo, Hope, Abe, Carrie, Sami also known as Samantha, Eric, Isabella also known as Izzy, Roman, Shawn, Caroline, Victor, Alice…”

“Roman? Roman Brady.” John rolled that name over several times in a whisper. Then he sat up taller in his chair. “My name was Roman Brady! My pop owned a fish market! And I was married to you, Marlena Evans Brady!”

But this revelation caused no smile or laugh from him. Upset, he shifted agitatedly.

David stood, and when he caught her eye, he frowned and drew a finger across his throat.

Marlena also knew the time had come to stop. Gathering her own wits, she spoke soothingly to John. “John, it’s okay. You’re not in Salem. You’re in Palo Alto in 2019. When I count to three, you will be fully awake. You will remember everything, but you will be calm and collected. One. Two. Three.”

John opened his eyes. He looked around his apartment, and then at her. Also at David who had now come to stand where John could see him. John slowly got up. “I, uh, guess that didn’t go quite the way you’d hoped,” he said lamely to Marlena.

She couldn’t help giving a weak snort. “No, not quite. But you did remember something about Salem, John. That’s progress. Really.”

David concurred, “I’ve got to admit I didn’t think you’d remember anything at all. But you did. Good work!”

“Good work? I don’t understand what just happened.” He looked hard at the AIAF director. “Dave, you seem far less surprised and confused than I am. How come? Do you know something about my life in Salem?”

Chagrined, David admitted, “Before I came I did a little research. I found out a few things you don’t know yet.”

“Oh, really? So you two, already far ahead of ignorant me, just sat back to see the show, huh?” John stared at them belligerently.

“No, John, that’s not how it is!” Marlena told him hotly.

“Seems that way to me!” John again directed his attention to David and said somewhat distantly. “You said this morning when you arrived that you were on a strict schedule. I thank you for coming. I don’t want to take any more of your time. You’ll still make your original flight back if you leave now.”

“John, listen. I’m sorry. I could have handled that better. That’s on me. But come on, you knew I’d do my homework.” David didn’t say the obvious, “You could have done yours, too.” He just tried to smooth the waters, “I want to help you with whatever you need. Anything I can do, I will.”

John still looked stubbornly irritated.

Marlena and David said their farewells, and John went down to David’s rental car with him. From the window, Marlena watched them talking. Before David got into the car, John and he clapped each other on the back. Marlena felt relief; she thought they had probably parted on good terms.

It passed through her mind as she watched them that she could have escaped with David. She could have asked him to drive her back to the hotel on his way to the airport. But her conscience knew better. The director had a schedule to keep, and his time had been limited from the start. She didn’t have any reason for running out on John. She needed to stay and face this head on. She sat down in the chair John had vacated and waited.

Part of her felt so disappointed. If only her plan had carried through. John had been able to clearly remember happy scenes from his earlier life. That had filled her with optimism when they got to Salem. She knew her ego — which shouldn’t be part of this hypnosis equation at all — had been bruised by John’s inability to remember even one of their happy moments.

It wasn’t just her ego. It was her hope in the rekindling of their love. Imagine! Fish! Fish was what had hooked John into Salem. His remembering that fish market quotation was stunning though. As was his subsequent hooking into the Roman Brady name and their marriage — there at least he had linked to her. But, honestly, it bothered Marlena that he seemed to think of her first through the Roman Brady tie-in. How much more would she have loved it if he had remembered their first handshake after he’d saved her from those hoodlums, or the memory she’d primed — the one at the pier when he’d said great so often. Apparently, those were not as important as fish!

She knew she was being too sensitive, and too focused on herself. She should be thanking God that John had remembered anything at all. Hearing him on the outside stairs, she stopped moping and turned to the door expectantly.

As John closed the door after him, he eyed her. “Thought you might have wanted to hitch a ride with Dave.”

She tossed her head and conceded, “It crossed my mind.”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands on his jeans (he was wearing a narrow striped, long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans today). He worked his jaw, which she recognized again as a nervous habit. “Before, I was okay with you and Dave having a private pow-wow without me. But, now, I’m not so okay with it. I can’t force you to tell me, and, if it was really confidential, then you shouldn’t say anything, but otherwise, I’d like to know.”

“That’s because you discovered that both of us know more about your missing years than you do, correct?” she asked.

“That about covers it.”

“Well, about me, you already knew I knew. And doesn’t it make sense that David would do some digging once you told him about our meeting?” Marlena offered him a curious look. “By the way, John, you could have done that too. You could have called in favors and asked for help in finding out about those years, couldn’t you? And not just now?”

Marlena paused, but before John could get a word in, she said, “One of the things David and I discussed was a question I had. I asked him why the AIAF director didn’t do a facial recognition search when you turned up in 2002 and said you couldn’t remember about sixteen years of your life? David said he didn’t know why Lou Whistler didn’t do that. Do you know why?”

John sat/leaned on the back of the couch and stared at her for a bit. “That’s a good question. I don’t know why he didn’t.” He seemed to be pondering. “When I escaped in 2002 from the island where I’d been a prisoner, the only place I knew to go was to the AIAF. It took several years before I really felt I could put that terrible experience behind me. So, I admit I didn’t want to do any poking around in my past. I feared all I would find in those years was more torture. Or, worse, that I’d discover I’d caved again and worked for that demonic group all those missing years. I knew they had broken me before; I was very fortunate to get away in 2002. But I did remember before 1986 and what I’d been through then. I couldn’t bear to find out I’d been an assassin, a sex trafficker, a drug trafficker. I thought maybe my memory block was my mind’s way of protecting me from such a horror. So, I didn’t pursue any kind of investigation into my missing years.” He sighed. “That was a failing on my part. A weakness.”

“John, no, it wasn’t a weakness or a failing. It was a perfectly natural response to the horrors you’d been subjected to.” She didn’t have the same opinion about Lou Whistler though. “I totally understand now why you didn’t pursue it in 2002. But, honestly, I still wonder why your director didn’t. Or…do you think he could have and just not told you? David said you were a truly extraordinary operative, a hero many times over. Perhaps Whistler just didn’t want to lose you. Maybe he thought you were too valuable to tell the truth to, knowing if he did, you would probably have left the AIAF.”

“Would I have done that?” John raised his eyebrows at her. “Would I have left?” John stuffed his hands in his pockets, but then he changed his mind and pulled them out. He walked around the couch. He sat down on it, perching on the front edge of the cushion where it wasn’t so soft. He was only a few feet from her. He gave her a piercing look.

“Marlena, I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer about some things –” he shrugged — “maybe about a lot of things. But I can do math. You told me about all those kids you had. One – your biological son – is a priest — it takes years to become a priest, and even longer to be a pastor. He has to be older than 30. 2019 minus 30 years is 1989. You told me you weren’t in Salem from 1987 until 1991. So, he must have been born before 1987. My obvious deduction is you were married to your second husband several years before you left Salem.

“And, by your own admission, you were married after you came back. You told me yourself that your husband died just last year — the man who fathered your twins.

“Also, you said that people looked for me in 1992-93 and 2001, and you mentioned Roman as being one of those people. He is the man you’ve been married to all this time.

“Now” — he held up his hand to stop her from breaking in — “Just a few minutes ago, I remembered saying ‘My pop sells fresh fish.’ And I said I was Roman Brady, and you were Mrs. Roman Brady. But that can’t be right. I’m not Roman Brady. But you were Mrs. Roman Brady, weren’t you?”

“My turn now?” she asked a little facetiously.

“Yes,” he said seriously.

“Okay. I know you’re really confused. And I am very aware I promised if you tried the hypnosis, and it didn’t work, I would explain to you what I know. You’ve kept your part of the bargain. The psychiatrist in me wants to encourage you to do more hypnosis. You are a good subject, John. And, in a way, the hypnosis did work. We got a “hit” so to speak. So, perhaps at some point, you’ll want to do more. But the woman part of me — the non-psychiatrist part too — knows I have to keep my part of the bargain.

“So I’m going to do my best to explain.

“In December of 1985 a man whose head was swathed in bandages was brought — I’m not sure by whom — to University Hospital in Salem. As a psychiatrist there, I was asked to talk to him because he wouldn’t say a word to any of the doctors or nurses who tried to talk to him. I did that, but he said nothing to me either. Then he left the hospital without being released. In January 1986, I was accosted by some ruffians in a local restaurant/bar called SHENANIGANS. A man I thought I’d never met before took on the troublemakers and disarmed the one waving a gun at me. Tremendously grateful, I thanked him, and we shook hands.”

Marlena said, “That was you.”

John nodded. “Okay, yeah, I get that. I was also the guy you saw with all the bandages the month before?”

“Yes, and I’ll get back to that.

“At the hospital, there was a rapist loose, and we also needed a new head of security. You, who gave your name as John Black, landed that security job after our chief, Tom Horton, put in a good word for you. Then you made a big contribution in catching the rapist.”

Marlena suddenly lit up with a smile. “You also drove me crazy with a sign in/sign out sheet that you demanded hospital employees use. We had a few arguments about that.”

“Seems like a good idea to me,” John said.

“Of course! See, your older self agrees with your younger self.” She shot him a bemused look.

“You also saved me from a mugger/carjacker in the parking lot. All these events followed in quick succession.”

“That’s what you referred to the other day when you said I saved you a couple times in the first few days, right?”

“Mm hmm. So, with all these things happening, and both of us at the hospital, I noticed more and more you shied away from talking about yourself. I also discovered you snuck into my office and used my computer to make some fake identity records for yourself. I confronted you about that and you apologized. You also needed an apartment, and I happened to know of a free one. It had belonged to Roman Brady, my husband. He’d lived there before we moved into our house.”

“Wait just a minute! So, yes, you WERE already married to Roman Brady then?” He glared accusingly.

“Hold on, hold on. This is a very strange story. So don’t get judgmental on me — at least not yet. Hear me out.

“I married Roman Brady in 1983. As I said earlier, he had a daughter from a previous marriage. Her name is Carrie. In October of 1984, I had the twins, Sami and Eric. In exactly five days, they will celebrate their 36th birthdays.

“Roman was a police officer. He was a lieutenant in 1984. He also worked at times for the ISA –”

“He did?”

“Yes. In November, 1984 he tracked down an arch organized crime head named Stefano DiMera…” Marlena paused a moment, searching to see if that name brought a glimmer of recognition from John. It did.

“DiMera? Stefano?” John’s eyes darkened. “I know him alright. He was an evil man. He’s dead now though.”

“Yes, and I’ll get back that also.

“Roman tracked down Stefano on a Caribbean island. But Stefano shot Roman, and he fell off a cliff into the sea. That’s what we thought.

“So, I was a widow when we met, John.”

“Oh. Sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

“Back to the apartment. It was Roman’s before we got married. We moved into a house, and the apartment was used by other Brady family members. But it happened to be available when you needed one. It’s been a long time, so I’m not positive, but I think it was when I discovered that you had illicitly used my computer that I came to what was your apartment, and in the course of talking with you there, I realized that you didn’t know who you were. You told me how you came by the name ‘John Black,’ and I did hypnotize you.

“You remembered a few things that ultimately led us to travel to West Virginia in a quest to find out your true history. We also had a number of people after us for various reasons, some nefarious and some fairly noble. Bo Brady, Roman’s brother, and Hope, his girlfriend (later, wife) were after us because they thought you were Stefano DiMera.”

“Me? They thought I was? Shhh. That’s ridiculous. I don’t look anything like Stefano DiMera.”

“Well, that was part of the problem. At that time, Bo, Hope, I and others had never seen Stefano, or even seen photos of him. I think you had seen him — and from what you said a moment ago, that is correct –”

He nodded solemnly.

“ — but back then your memory of that was erased, so you didn’t know what he looked like either.”

“Oh. That makes some sense then.” John let out a long breath and his face clouded as he filled her in on his own bitter encounter with Stefano:

“One night in February 1985, while on an AIAF mission in Sarajevo, I’m ashamed to admit I got a little careless about my own security. When on missions I’m usually hyper-aware of my surroundings at all times. But I was tired, and there had been no threats at all. So I was out by myself. Suddenly there were five big wrestler types around me in the doorway of my lodgings. I got knocked out, and the next thing I knew I was securely trussed up, had a stifling sack over my head and, from the noises, thought I’d been dumped in a hold on a freighter to somewhere unknown.

“Days later we arrived at a place called Maison Blanche (I learned that later, not then) in New Orleans, and for months I rotted as a prisoner of the fiend Stefano DiMera — chained to the wall, half naked, locked in his cellar, with a CCTV camera on me constantly, barely fed, and drugged nearly constantly. A couple times, he had me dragged out of my prison and brought up to his library. They propped me up against the wall on the floor, chains on my wrists and ankles, and, while DiMera merrily played chess against himself, he talked to me. He told me what he had in store for me. But I was so drugged out of my mind that I can’t remember what he said exactly.”

John got a faraway look in his eyes. “That’s what I was alluding to before. Another reason I think I didn’t pursue an active investigation into where I’d been from the end of 1985 until 2001. Having that memory, I feared, as I said, that during those years I’d done terrible things.”

“Oh, John, again, I’m so sorry for all the pain you’ve suffered. I wondered if you remembered now what happened to get you to Salem. Do you remember your face being bandaged?”

“Nope, No recollection of that. As they kept drugging me, I knew I was losing my memories of my life. But I was helpless to stop it.”

Marlena nodded sadly.

“I interrupted your story, Marlena, Please go on. You were saying that Bo Brady and his girlfriend thought I was Stefano.”

“Yes,” Marlena fought for mental clarity to leave his story and re enter her own, “So, in West Virginia, you and I were in this farmhouse for a while. You were not happy that I was along, but I was. Anyway, you went into the bathroom to clean up, and the phone rang (landlines then). You came out without your shirt on but with a towel over your right shoulder. While you were talking, you pulled the towel off and I saw the tattoo on your shoulder blade. The phoenix! A sign of Stefano. You don’t know how scared I was. I tried to run away, but you caught me. We ended up in the wilderness…spent a freezing and restless night out there. The next day we had to evade some of our persistent pursuers, and we ended up shooting the rapids in a big rubber raft. That was quite an adventure, especially for me,” she laughed ruefully, “since, the truth is, I’m not big on the outdoors.”

John had been listening raptly. He smiled at her last comment, “I’m sure you held your own on that raft. Wish I could remember that!”

But then he backtracked a little further. “So, you know about that damned tattoo.”

“Yes, I do. I assume you still have it? Or did you have it removed?”

“It’s still there. I did talk to a guy who specialized in removals once, but when he looked at it, he said it might be impossible to remove it completely because the ink was really deep into the shoulder, and if I tried, I might just end up with a weird sludgy smudge. So, I just left it. Most of the time, I don’t even think about it since it’s in a spot I can’t easily see.

“What happened next?”

Marlena shot him a grin at that comment.

“What?” he asked.

“That reminds me of what the kids used to say incessantly when I read to them and paused for a bit.” She giggled. “Sometimes I’d stop on purpose just to hear them chorus, ‘What happened next?’

“Anyway, ultimately, Bo caught up to you and the two of you fought on a hill with a rocky cliff. You fell! But you were able to get a handhold a few feet from the top, keeping you from taking that full plunge. I rushed to Bo and ordered him to stop. That you weren’t Stefano. That you were Roman! That Bo needed to pull you back up.”

“What! Why did you say I was Roman? Just so he’d save me? And why would he even give that idea any credence? Maybe we all didn’t know what Stefano looked like, but you all certainly knew what Roman Brady looked like!”

“Well, of course, I wanted you to be saved! I realized during our escapades that even if you were Stefano, I was in love with you. The first time we shook hands I knew it deep down, but it wasn’t until our first time in West Virginia that I felt the full impact of it.

“Now, about why I said you were Roman: remember that you came to Salem with bandages on your entire head. It was through hypnotizing you that you got images of being operated on in the farmhouse. The one I mentioned we stayed in briefly. The doctor who allegedly performed the operation left a photo of what you supposedly looked like before the surgery. But the envelope with the photo didn’t come into my possession until you and Bo were already fighting. I showed it to Bo, and he, believing the photo just as I had, ran and pulled you back up. You did not fall down a cliff that day.

“When you were back on solid ground, I showed the photo to you.”

“And it was a photo of your husband, who you thought was dead. Roman?”

She nodded vigorously.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. That’s crackers.” John got up and started pacing around, giving Marlena disbelieving glances.

Marlena went to him and stopped his stomping around. “John, no. I know it sounds crazy. But, let’s face it. Salem is not what one would call normal. A lot of very unusual things happen there. This may be one of the most abnormal ever, but I assure you, it made sense at the time.

“The plastic surgeon claimed he had changed the face of my husband. But that wasn’t the only reason I became convinced you were Roman — and I must confess that I was the one of the two of us who was first convinced. Under hypnosis, you had ‘remembered’ things that only Roman and I knew. And even without hypnosis, there were instances in which you’d have a ‘Roman’ memory.

“For example, Roman’s apartment. When you first saw it, you said you felt a sense of deja vu. You also had these blippy images that seemed to randomly float up out of your subconscious.”

“You’re saying I had Roman’s memories.”

“Some of them, at least.”

John shook his head. “I’ve never heard of such a memory transplant being done, and part of the time when I was in the AIAF I had access to early reports of scientific breakthroughs that could be pertinent to national security.”

He asked abruptly, “Did Roman have some of my memories?”

“No,” she said.

“He wasn’t at Maison Blanche. I was the only one there in the cellar jail. Even though they drugged me so much, I’m pretty sure about that. If they’d wanted to do some kind of transfer, wouldn’t both of us have needed to be in the same place?”

“John, how it was done is still a mystery to us. Roman did not suffer from memory loss. His memories were intact, and he only had his own.

“I know this is really difficult to absorb. I told you you probably wouldn’t believe me. All I can say is that’s what happened.”

John rubbed the back of his neck. “So do you think that I was grabbed by Stefano DiMera because he deliberately intended that we all think I was Roman? That’s what happened, right? Everyone ultimately became convinced I was Roman, and I stepped into his life, didn’t I?

“Yes, that’s what happened. And, yes, I think Stefano, with great patience and determination, plotted it all out. Stefano hated Roman because he so doggedly sought to end Stefano’s criminal empire. He probably despised you, as an AIAF agent, for the same reason.

“He loved to play with real people as though they were just ivory chess pieces on his marble board.In fact, you — sorry about this — had been referred to as his ‘Pawn’ by a number of people.

“I’m sure he was ecstatic when I fell for his switch. Because, as I said, it was I who insisted you were Roman. You weren’t really convinced for quite some time. When we arrived at ‘our’ house, and you first stepped into it, you were reluctant, and you seemed lost. Oh, you ‘remembered’ some things about the house, but if I had paid more attention, I’d have realized how alien you first felt. To make matters worse, Carrie — let’s see she was ten, no, twelve — Carrie roundly rejected you. She insisted you were not her father. It took quite a while before you won her over — which you did, John.

“But, I want to make something crystal clear. We weren’t just playing house because we thought we were married and because we had three children who needed parents. It was not some arranged, artificial thing. Stefano DiMera might have planned it that way, but that wasn’t us.

“I told you, I felt something for you the first time I met you. Something eternal. Love. I wasn’t alone. Many times during the ‘marriage’ we had you told me it was the same for you. And, as I said, I loved you unconditionally then too. Even when I thought you were Stefano, I loved you. I was in love with you. My unconditional love for you explains — to me at least — why I became convinced so easily you were Roman. When the clues pointed to you being him, how could that not be true when my feelings corroborated it? Strangely, if I’d slowed down and thought it through more with my head, I might have noticed one irregularity: I had loved Roman, but not with quite the same intensity.

“The first night that we spent together in the master bedroom, before we actually went to bed, you asked me, ‘Do you feel as awkward as I do?’ and I answered, ‘I feel like a schoolgirl.’ But making love with you was heavenly. We fit together so perfectly.“ She blushed and smiled at him a little shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he assured her. “Not to be crude, but wasn’t there a difference in our lovemaking from what you were used to with Roman?”

“Yeah, there was a difference, John. And I’m sure some people who’ve heard this cockamamy story look down their noses at me and think ‘what a fool she was; she couldn’t even tell the difference between lovers.’ But I don’t care. Let them think what they want. Here’s the way I look at it, I had a husband with whom making love was ‘shining silver.’ I was very happy with him. Then I lost that husband, but thought I’d found him again, and this time we graduated to ‘purest gold.’ Was I going to have a conversation with him and ask if we could return to silver? I think the answer is obvious.”

While she explained her precious metals metaphor, John started smiling, and it grew as she prattled on.

Before he could reply, one of their stomachs let out a protracted growl. John laughed. “I’m hungry, but that was you.” he said, pointing at her.

Marlena’s already pink face got a shade redder. She peered at her watch. “8:30,” she said out loud.

John put his arm around her and herded her toward the kitchen. “No pork chops, but I can offer you some clam chowder and a piece of the cherry pie we didn’t eat yesterday. Will that do?”

“That sounds great.”

Once they had sated their hunger, John asked, “Do you want to go back to your room now?”

“If you want to ask me some more questions, I’m willing. If you’ve had more than enough, then, yes, that would be fine too.”

John ruminated. “Even in my wildest dreams, I could not imagine someone cooking up a plot as sick as DiMera did. Uh, Roman obviously wasn’t dead. Where was he?”

“Stefano held Roman in yet another of his ubiquitous lairs until you and I found him in 1992.”

“So, that’s when the fact that I wasn’t Roman was exposed.”

Marlena’s eyes hardened as she remembered that horribly confusing time. “It wasn’t completely settled until we did a DNA test.”

“So, one was never done earlier.”

“No, we didn’t think it was needed, and besides, then, DNA tests were not the routine method of identification that they have become.”

John’s eyebrows rose. “Didn’t it seem obvious when you saw he looked like the Roman you married in 1983? He did, didn’t he?”

She gave a harsh snort and said a little defensively, “John, you said you’ve had some nightmarish experiences with Stefano. Did you not know that he has resorted to fake ‘doubles’?“

“Doubles?”

“Yes, doppelgangers. So, no, it wasn’t as though I immediately thought that man was my husband.”

“Oh, okay. I can’t say I ever knew DiMera did that.”

John’s face softened. “I know I’m probing in sensitive areas. To me, it’s just information because I don’t have the emotional attachments. To you, it’s your life. Sorry it’s hurting you.”

Marlena stood suddenly, pushing her chair back. She looked like a riled hen. “John! What hurts me the most is that you don’t have those emotional attachments! Don’t you get that?” She was so frustrated that he knew the details of most of his life now, but not the crucial years in Salem and a few after that. They were so important!

John looked up at her, his expression a mixture of surprise at her outburst and sorrow. “Okay,” he said placatingly. “Yeah, I’m at a severe disadvantage not knowing. And I’m sorry that I haven’t reciprocated the love that you have for me. Frankly, it overwhelms me when you say we were so in love. All the years I remember, I never experienced something like that. To think I had it, but lost it, is really something I’d rather not dwell on, at least not right now. Maybe that makes me a coward, but as I said earlier, and apparently it’s true, the love we had could not be expressed anymore when the DNA tests proved I wasn’t Roman, right? We were done.”

Marlena resumed her seat and said sadly, “There were a lot of factors at play. When I came back to Salem after being kidnapped and held on yet another island by another madman, I wanted so badly to resume my life with you and the children. But those intervening years when I’d just been in stasis (or at least thought I was), you’d moved on with your life. You’d had to. You thought I was dead, and you had no reason to think otherwise.

“Remember I mentioned the name Isabella a couple times?”

“Yes.”

“You and Isabella had become a couple. You weren’t married yet, but you were planning on it. She was expecting your child.”

John’s eyes grew large. “What?”

“Yes, you’d given her an engagement ring.”

“Oh my — and you came back just then?”

She nodded.

John was the one who got up this time. He started pacing as he tried to engage with this new shocker. “But I was married to you. Or, I should say, we thought I was.”

Marlena nodded again.

“What a hell of a mess.” John said heavily, not looking at her.

“It was. I’m sure Stefano preened with infinite pride, wallowing in the turmoil he initiated for all of us.” Marlena agreed.

She got up, went to him, and turned his face to her by holding his chin in her hand. “You really loved Isabella, John. But you loved me too. As I’ve been saying, we shared a truly great love. And I’m convinced that if you’d been Roman, we would have worked it out, and you would have chosen to stay in our marriage. Maybe that sounds selfish. Maybe I was callous toward Isabella. I can’t even say with absolute certainty that was your thinking because we didn’t get around to a time when you could tell me exactly what you’d decided before we found the other Roman, the original one.

She could see him putting the pieces together. His eyes stayed on her this time, and he said softly. “I’m sorry I put you through that uncertainty.”

“John, you don’t have to be sorry. Not for anything, believe me. You were a good, honorable, brave, and loving man forced into a heartrending dilemma.

“And talking to David today, I got more confirmation that you’ve been exactly that kind of man these last twenty-seven years too. He told me you saved three agents before you and the bastard you were chasing went over the cliff. He also told me, you were the director of AIAF for five years. You’ve been doing terribly important work. You’ve served your country all your life, John.

“When you “became” Roman Brady in 1986, you took up where the other Roman left off in the police force. You quickly received a promotion to captain, and then while I was gone, you gained the rank of commander. That was you, John, not the other Roman. That was your hard work and dedication to law enforcement. And at the same time, you raised Carrie and the much younger Sami and Eric — you called them ‘the twinners.’ No one could have asked more from you. You gave and gave and gave.”

He smiled at her, still allowing her to hold his jaw. “Thank you for saying all that. I really appreciate hearing it. But I get the feeling I did hurt you when you came back. I should have been more reassuring and not left you dangling. And I guess I left the other woman, Isabella, dangling too. That’s not a very manly thing to do.”

Marlena dropped her hand. “Honey, not many people have to deal with a spouse who comes back from the dead years later and at a very inopportune time. But as I said, Salem is a magnet for such unbelievable and normally rare situations.” It was only after she’d finished this comment that she realized she’d called him, “Honey.” She cringed inside. She should not take such liberties. It could be interpreted as pressure on him to accept an intimacy between them that he didn’t feel right now.

But John didn’t appear to take any offense or feel manipulated. His blue eyes held her own lively hazel orbs as he asked, “Am I right that when Roman was found and the DNA tests were done, there was no legal tie between us — you and me?”

Lowering her eyes, Marlena gave one nod. “That’s true. You and I went through a marriage renewal after I recovered from that coma I told you about. That was on August 22, 1986. It was quite an elaborate renewal and all our friends were there. There are pictures, but I don’t have any on my ipad. We said vows as Roman Brady and Marlena Brady, even though the names weren’t important. We said our vows to each other’s souls and those vows have always remained in my heart. I believe they reside deep in yours too, and perhaps you will be able to feel that again, God willing.”

She continued, “But, legally, none of that mattered.”

He continued to search her face, “I’m surmising then that I married Isabella.”

“You did. You and she became Mr. and Mrs. John Black. And it was the right thing.” Seeing his expectation that she not stop there, Marlena said firmly, “Isabella — or Izzy, as you affectionately called her — helped you through the darkness of losing practically everything you loved –”

“The three children I’d thought were mine, and you.”

Sadly Marlena said, “Exactly. Plus the job you loved. Plus the Brady family. Shawn and Caroline Brady were Roman’s parents, and he had sisters and brother Bo. For a while, people in Salem, including most of them, were not sure they could trust you. They didn’t know if you had been in on the plot to ‘replace’ Roman. In time, they realized their mistake, but by then you were no longer in Salem.

“And about the police force: You were considered an interloper and a “Pawn” of Stefano’s. Roman — the other one — went back on the force as a captain, later a commander too, but you were forced out.”

John must have been the look of shame on Marlena’s face. “Hey”, he exclaimed, now touching her cheek for a moment, “you didn’t bounce me off the force. You don’t have anything to feel remorse over.”

“I wish that were true. I’ve always regretted that I didn’t stand up for you more than I did. Because of Roman, who had his own need for healing after those many years away, I didn’t do as much as I should have. I didn’t stop them from making you a pariah for a while, and that was unforgivable.”

John made a “don’t worry about it” motion with both hands. “Please forgive yourself. Life is too short not to. I’m sure you did your best.

“Isabella was pregnant. Did she have the baby or did my indecision cause her so much stress that she lost it?”

“Oh, no, she didn’t lose the baby. She gave birth in May of 1992,” — Marlena chuckled — “Right after your marriage ceremony. She gave you a son whom you named Brady Victor Black.”

She saw the rocked look in John. She smiled supportively, “You’re a father, John.”

John seemed to struggle to say something coherent, but finally settled on, “We named the boy after the Bradys?”

“You did.”

“So where are Isabella and Brady?” Before she could answer, a haunted look took over his face. John said, “You mean I left her and the baby behind in December of ‘92?”

Marlena took his hand and pulled him down on his living room couch so they sat there together. “John, Isabella was diagnosed with cancer — very fast-moving pancreatic cancer — after you were married. She wanted to spend what time she had left in Italy, where she’d been born, and the three of you moved there. You were by her side until she passed away peacefully in October of ‘92.

“She died?” he said slowly. Marlena could only nod, because the memory of it made her throat tight.

John made a motion with his hand in front of his face. A motion of futility. “Not once in the last quarter of a century have I ever thought of her or my son. Just as I haven’t thought of you.” He buried his head in his hands.

Marlena rubbed his shoulder in commiseration. She idly realized her hand was passing over the spot where the phoenix image had been tattooed by some employee or slave of Stefano’s.

It took a while before John raised his head. “What about my son?”

“After Isabella died, you and Brady came back to Salem. You still didn’t know your true identity — which is why, of course, you had reverted to the name John Black. But despite everything, Salem was really the only home you knew. You had a loft, and you took some security consulting jobs to pay the bills. You were a devoted single father, and you mourned and missed Isabella a great deal.”

“I can’t have been that great a father. I haven’t seen him since he was seven months old!” John added, with fear in his voice, “He didn’t die too, did he?”

“No, no. He’s alive and well.”

John dripped disgust in his voice — at himself. “You know more about my son than I do. Man, that kid must hate me.”

“John –”

Marlena saw a change in his demeanor. He angled away from her hand on his shoulder and asked with more steel in his voice, “Did you and I have contact when I returned from Italy?”

Knowing she should not get perturbed, Marlena replied calmly, “You had contact with both me and Roman. By then, all three of us had all least partially reconciled ourselves to who was who.”

“So that worked for you and me?” he asked, suspicion edging his voice. “We didn’t have any problem just being friends?”

“When you came back with little Brady, my heart went out to you. The anchor that Isabella had become for you had slipped away. You were lost. You were a man in desperate need of a true friend, and I felt the pull to be that friend. For a time, that was enough for both of us. I helped you with Brady, I listened when you needed to talk.”

“But it didn’t stay in the friendship column, did it?”

Marlena drew herself up. “Technically, it did. You and I never crossed the line physically. But both of us struggled with temptation, And both of us felt the emotional ties we had before again come to the surface. We had never really resolved our feelings after I came back. It was all still a jumble in the back of our psyches. So, yes, our seeing each other, even though we didn’t fall into bed, was us playing with fire.”

John got up abruptly and again stomped around the room. “Did I leave Salem to prevent an affair, Marlena? Why didn’t I take my boy with me?”

“John, when you left on December 28, 1992, you left Brady with Shawn and Caroline (who loved him as a grandson and doted on him). You also left a note saying that you had an emergency and you would be back before New Year’s Eve.

“What was the emergency?”

“You didn’t say, and we had no idea.”

“I didn’t tell you?”

“No you didn’t. I will admit you had said privately to me just after Christmas that you thought it would be better if you moved away from Salem. But, of course, you meant — and, in fact, you said — you and Brady. And I’ll admit I was shattered by the thought that you’d do that, and I wouldn’t see you anymore. And wouldn’t see Brady grow up; I became incredibly attached to the little guy very fast. Although I shouldn’t have, I begged you to stay. I remember exactly what you said, ’I can’t be near you and not touch you. My wife died, but you’ve got a husband, and there’s no room for a third wheel. I love you, and that means I’ve gotta go.’

“As I said, you didn’t say when you and Brady were going. But I knew with certainty that wherever you’d gone on December 28, you’d be back. I thought maybe you’d gone to scout out a place to live. But that wasn’t really an emergency, so I wasn’t sure about that. I just knew I’d see you at least one more time because you’d be back for Brady, and I hung onto that for dear life.”

“But I didn’t come back.”

“No. And as I said, we searched for you, but found no trace of you anywhere.”

“So I did leave my son behind. Who raised him? Shawn and Caroline Brady?”

“No, John. Roman and I did.”

“You two did?”

“Yes. After you’d been missing for a while, Mickey Horton, a friend and a family lawyer, informed me you had left an instruction that if anything happened to you and you were not able to raise Brady, you wanted me to be his legal guardian. I talked it over with Roman, and he immediately agreed that your wishes should be respected. Brady became part of our family.”

John frowned. “Roman raised my son. Pshaw. I guess that’s not unfair. I raised his three for six years.

“So Brady’s the boy you adopted? He’s the one who’s still in Salem and works at a place called Titan?”

“He is. We didn’t officially adopt him. We became his legal guardians, just as you asked. His last name is not Brady. It’s Black. John, he’s a very handsome young man. Tall, strong. He has darker hair than you, and he has your mouth, ears very similar to yours, and his temperament is very close to yours too.”

Marlena found her purse and took out her ipad. She did some tapping and swiping. Then she came to him and stood next to him holding it. “There he is.”

John pulled the ipad up a little higher and bent his head. “When was this taken? Oh, there’s the date. Just a couple months ago.”

Marlena looked at it with him. She could recall everything about that moment. Roman had died only about ten days before. She’d taken the picture of Brady herself on her phone. The location was out in the Titan building courtyard. It had been a very warm August day, so Brady had taken off his suit jacket and playfully hung it on the arm of the bronze statue he stood by. Marlena had come to a Titan employee awards luncheon because Brady had won Salem Employee of the Year. Before the luncheon began she’d talked to Victor Kiriakis, Chairman of Titan, and Brady’s grandfather on Isabella’s side. After it was over, she asked Brady to come outside with her so she could snap a photo of him with his shiny plaque. Holding it in his hands, Brady beamed. He’d worked a lot of overtime for that award, and he didn’t mind Marlena making a little fuss over it.

As John took in all the details, Marlena related all that to him. John ran a few of his fingers delicately over the screen, not because he wanted to enlarge it, but because he just wanted to touch the image of his son.

Marlena saw his eyes soften and moisten. His Adam’s apple worked up and down as he swallowed a few times. She heard him clear his throat.

“John, I’ll send you this picture right now if you tell me where. Phone or email?”

“Hmm? Oh, gosh, Doc, sorry. I should have exchanged that information with you already.”

Again, Marlena felt a jolt of emotion when he said, “Doc.” But again, she knew it didn’t come from the same place it always had so many years ago.

Within moments, they had made the exchange, and she sent Brady’s photo to both. She made a mental note to send him the other two photos he’d seen two days ago.

Was it really just two days ago?

But suddenly, Marlena felt very tired. She looked at the digital time on her phone. 11:03. Wow. She’d been here since just after 4:30. She really did need to go.

John stood unmoving, still gazing at the photo of the son he hadn’t seen since he was an infant.

Lightly touching his arm, Marlena whispered, “John.”

“Oh. Yes.” He looked at her

“It’s late. I need to get back to the hotel.”

John immediately reacted. He gave her back the ipad, saying, “Thank you so much for that,” and then he reached into his jeans’ pocket and pulled out his car keys. Grabbing his cane, which Marlena realized he had not used as much today, he asked if she had everything, and then they headed to his automobile.

Marlena knew John’s thoughts were focused on the son he’d just learned he had. He didn’t talk as he drove the mile and a half. But when they entered the hotel parking lot, Marlena asked him to pull into a parking space for a minute instead of the loading zone. Not that she expected anyone else to be loading or unloading at this time of night, but if he idled in a yellow zone, she’d be nervous. She needed to focus.

Having done what she asked, he turned off the engine and gave her an inquiring look.

“Tomorrow, as you know, is Saturday,” she began. “I don’t know if you have things you need to do. If you do, just say no. But I was wondering if you’d fly back to Salem with me. You could meet Brady. And there are others you really need to meet as well. I know getting a flight on short notice can be a challenge, and sometimes pricey, but if we could manage it…I have to finish my commitment to the V.A. Hospital here, so I’d have to catch a red-eye back in time to see my first patient on Monday morning, but if you wanted, you are welcome to stay at my townhouse, I’ll be finished and back by next Friday afternoon. As I mentioned, I have three bedrooms, and I don’t have any other visitors at the moment.”

John had listened to all that without visible reaction. When she stopped speaking, he said, “On the way over here, I was thinking about suggesting something similar, although, honestly, I can’t think of a reason in the world why Brady would want to see me –”

“He would!” Marlena broke in.

“I admire your positivity. I do have something to do tomorrow morning, and I don’t want to miss it. There’s a particular vet in the hospital, the psych ward in fact. Someone in Physical Therapy told me about him, and I promised I’d go and see him tomorrow at 9 am. I knew the guy when I was in the Army, and I’m told he’s in really bad shape now. They may transfer him tomorrow. I can’t let him go without at least one visit.”

Something in Marlena’s brain clicked. “You aren’t referring to Joe Catenacci, are you?

“Yeah, that’s his name. We called him ‘The Cat’ or, to his face, ‘Kittens.’” John laughed. “That guy was so light on his feet, you never heard him coming, no matter how hard you strained.”

“I’ve been consulting on his case. Would you mind if I went with you, tomorrow? Not that I want to intrude on your visit with him. But after you’re done, I’d like to see him and see if there’s any change. He’s catatonic.”

“I was told that. A real tragedy. Sure, come along,” he agreed. “Now about Salem –”

“Excuse me for interrupting, but I just had another thought, and maybe this is a better one? I could talk to Dr. Chang, the Psychiatric Department head here, and see if I could take off next week, and then come back the following week and finish up. I think these are extraordinary enough circumstances to warrant that. Then we could leave as soon as we could snag a flight, and I wouldn’t have to rush right back.”

John smiled. “It’s worth a try.”

“Okay!” she said, “I’ll see you at the hospital tomorrow morning.” She quickly got out of his Jeep and walked briskly to the entry. Inside, she turned around to look and saw the Cherokee light up and then drive away.

Saturday

Marlena blearily looked at the clock. 7:00. She was not an early morning person, and last night she hadn’t gotten to bed until 1 a.m. because her mind insisted on reviewing the historic day and wouldn’t shut down. But she’d set her alarm for this fairly early hour because she had not made any family calls in the last few days, and she worried the family might think her MIA. Let’s see, who hadn’t she talked to for the longest stretch? Forcing her eyes open and her mind to start, she snatched her phone out of its charger and speed dialed. And she hit the jackpot, having a chance to talk to Sami, Jake Lawrence, her husband, and even one of the kids, even though it was 4 pm in Switzerland, and a little early for the dinner hour.

“You okay, Mom?” Sami asked.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. You sound a little odd.”

“Honey, I will say a lot has been going on here in Palo Alto. I’ll call you again soon — if not before, then definitely on your birthday! We’ll talk more then, okay? I’ve been so busy that I’ve neglected the other kids too, so I need to make some more calls this morning.”

“Alright. Don’t overdo, Mom. Maybe you could come for Thanksgiving? Or, maybe we could come to Salem.”

“I hope one of those, sweet girl. I want to see you and the family so much. Bye for now.”

And so it went. She knew Eric said Mass at 8 am (Chicago time of course), so she did catch him for a few minutes.

“Hi, Mom. Just this minute entered the rectory, so your timing is impeccable.”

She again promised to be in Salem to celebrate his birthday. “I know the party is two days late, but my original schedule here wouldn’t let me get back any sooner.” She hoped he wouldn’t notice her “original” comment because she wasn’t ready for explanations right now.

He didn’t. Eric just responded, “You know I always love to see you, but I think I’m getting too old for birthday parties. Too old for birthdays even.”

“You are not! Besides, Tad’s birthday is October 20, so we can split the difference for you both. Saves money, time, and effort, honey,” she joked.

It was too early to try Carrie’s cell, and she didn’t trust herself right now to talk to the other two.

Marlena had also not checked her own cell phone messages in at least 24 hours. She started to scroll through, disinterested in most of them. But one, sent at 8:01 a.m. yesterday, put her on high alert. She stabbed the phone and read the contents in a huge rush. Then she jumped out of bed and checked the airline incoming flights to see if they were on time, Yes, just her luck (sarcasm heavy) they were.

Showering, dressing — today she wore pants instead of a dress, applying make-up, she was ready when the phone buzzed. “Hi! I’m so sorry, but I didn’t have a chance to read your email until this morning. Yes.Yes. My room number is…”

Marlena finished the call, did one last check of herself in the mirror, and then waited. Three minutes later the knock on the door came, and Marlena hastened to open it and greet…

“Carrie!”

“Hi, Marlena.” Carrie gave her the warm smile Marlena loved to see.

Carrie had emailed yesterday saying that she was going to meet with a client in Morgan Hill Saturday afternoon. She’d take a flight up to the San Jose Airport early in the morning and would rent a car. She asked if she could stop by and visit Marlena in the morning. This morning.

“Come in.” They hugged joyously.

“I’m sorry it’s so early,” Carrie apologized. “I couldn’t get a later flight at short notice.”

“Don’t apologize! I’m always happy to see you. Even if I have to get up at the crack of dawn,” Marlena exaggerated.

They laughed. They sat and Marlena continued, “I’m the one who’s sorry. Again, I apologize for not reading your email yesterday. And I also apologize because I need to go to the hospital at 9 am to check on a patient who may be transferred today. I promised someone I would. Plus, Carrie, I have some huge news I’m going to share with you, but I have to ask you to keep it to yourself for a little while. Is that okay?

“Uh, sure. I guess so…”

“Probably just for a couple days,” Marlena elaborated.

“Okay. Now I’m really curious. What’s the scoop?”

Marlena and Carrie sat close together on the foot of the bed (which Marlena had hurriedly made up). Marlena looked at Carrie squarely and said, “Carrie, a miracle occurred. Last Wednesday when I was leaving the hospital, I happened to notice a man who was sitting in the Physical Therapy waiting area. There was something about him, so I went inside to investigate.” Marlena’s eyes shone, “Carrie, it was John. John Black.”

Carrie’s eyes went wide and her mouth fell open. “What?” Really, Marlena? You really saw him?”

“I did! I talked with him there. And I’ve spent time with him these last three days.”

Of course, Carrie was stunned. “That’s incredible! That’s beyond incredible.” she breathed.

Marlena laughed and hugged her again. “I felt — feel — the same way. I was so bowled over. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Carrie, I’ll be seeing him today at the hospital when I go in a few minutes. Come with me. But I have to warn you, John won’t know you. It’s a very long story that I’ll tell you, just as I will everyone in the family, but he doesn’t remember anything about Salem. However, I have told him some vital things, including about you. I am sure he’ll want to see you. Of course, he, like us all, is older now. So don’t be surprised by the gray hair. Also, he had a terrible break of his left leg, which is why I saw him in the Physical Therapy department.

When Marlena paused for breath, Carrie said, “That’s a lot to take in.” She looked closely at Marlena’s excited face, her sparkling eyes. Carefully she asked, “When you say he doesn’t remember anything, you mean he doesn’t remember you either?”

Marlena’s excitement dropped a few notches. “I’m afraid he doesn’t.” She became resolute though. “I have faith that he will though, Carrie.”

Squeezing Marlena’s hand, Carrie said, “I will pray for that. But it’s just such unbelievable news. Where has he been all this time?”

“Oh, Carrie, I promise to fill you in, but I’m running late. You have a rental, right?”

Carrie nodded.

“Would you mind driving me to the hospital? It’s a really short hop, and usually I walk, but –”

At about 9:10, Marlena left Carrie in a nearby waiting room, and hurried, by herself, to the double occupancy room Joe Catenacci shared with one of the approximately 30% of Vietnam vets with PTSD, and who received experimental treatment to curb it. Before entering, she peeked in the window, but she couldn’t see much because the privacy curtains were pulled around both beds inside. She hesitated about going in. Maybe John wanted to be alone with Joe. And because she’d arrived a little late, she assumed John had already gone in. If she’d been on time, she would have asked what John preferred. Now, she would have to take her chances.

Gently she eased the door open and soundlessly stepped inside, not allowing the door to even snick when it closed again. At first she heard nothing, but then she detected a low voice:

“…Rob Wenkins? He never had another nickname. How about Tiny Tim Beaver? Stan The Hammer Wychek? You’ve got to remember those guys. Then there was that gangly giant kid who came into the unit late. Called him ‘Dartboard’ because his height made him a target in the field. Kittens, who else? I’m the guy with the memory problems. I bet you have perfect recall of all those guys…”

Marlena edged herself farther into the room until she could see around the curtain. John perched on a chair very close to Joe who sat immobile in a wheelchair right near the window. John apparently noticed her movement because he turned his head. Seeing her, he gave a slight nod of acknowledgement but nothing else. He returned all his concentration to Joe.

“Joe, it’s been so long since I transferred out. Before 1980 and Operation Eagle Claw. I know the failure of that operation and the deaths out in the desert must have eaten at you. It wasn’t your fault though, Kittens. You did your job.”

A faint grunt came from the wheelchair. John looked at Joe. “You hear me, Kittens, It wasn’t your fault. And I know I wasn’t around when you went through hell in Vietnam. You did two tours there. I never went because I was still in Ranger training when the war finally ended completely for us in ‘75. You told me a few stories, but I always knew you kept the horrors to yourself. Hell, we all do. No point in telling anyone else about the unspeakable. But you know what, buddy? If it’s so bad, so corrosive, that it ultimately paralyzes you, better rethink that tactic. I’m here. I can listen. Open up and tell me what’s got you all tied in knots. Is it nightmares that won’t quit? Is it something you did in combat? Or something you saw? Get it out of your system. Do you really want to live in this condition the rest of your days? I can’t believe you do.”

Other than that one grunt, nothing else emitted from Joe.

But then John changed tacks. “Going to tell you a story. There’s this little kid I see in this hospital once a week. His name is Buddy Crickson. He’s in a wheelchair just like you, buddy. He’s really kind of a stick kid because he’s got a terrible affliction. He was born with bones that are really fragile. He’s got to be very careful because he can break those bones with barely a bump. You’ve had broken bones, Cat. You know what kind of agony they can be. I sure know it. Couple years ago, I busted up my leg real bad” — John waggled his left knee against Joe’s leg. “Damn thing looked like a freaky pin cushion with the sharp ‘needle’ points stickin out instead of in. But, usually, you and I are blessed with bones that don’t let us down. We’ve both gone through most of our lives with strong bodies. But little Buddy, who’s only five, has already endured more bone breaks than both of us have. And the thing is, he’s the sweetest little guy. He’s not badmouthing God for the body he was clothed in at conception. He’s not constantly wailing, ‘Woe is me.’ And he’s not crawling inside of himself and curling up into a catatonic ball. He’s persevering. He’s scared and cranky sometimes, sure. But he doesn’t quit. He doesn’t quit. And I didn’t think you’d quit, either, Joe.”

John lapsed into silence. He watched Joe’s slack face, but there were no further grunts and no other actions or reactions. Finally, John turned his head and glanced again at Marlena. Turning back to Joe, he said, “I’m hearing they’re going to send you to another hospital today. I’m glad I got the chance to see you before you left.” He got up and awkwardly gave his old army buddy a half hug. Moving his chair to what was probably its previous position, he straightened up and gave his friend a salute before walking, with his cane, over to Marlena.

Now that John had finished his visit, Marlena went and sat on the bed where Joe could see her if he wanted to. “Joe, it’s Dr. Evans. I just wanted to say good-bye too. If you do get moved, I won’t have another chance. I’ll try to keep in contact with your doctors though, and if I can do anything for you in the future, I will.” She touched Joe’s hand and then moved alongside John. He put his arm around her shoulders and guided her to the door.

As they passed into the corridor outside, John’ arm around her fell away and he waved at the other name plate underneath Joe Catenacci’s. Marlena nodded. ‘Quentin Albright’ it read. She knew a little about his case. John told her, “I said hello to him before I started talking to Joe. He said the meds they’d given him were making him sleep all the time. I think he thought I was a doctor. He complained about it. Said he might as well be dead if the only treatment was sleeping.”

“Thanks for passing that along, John. I’ll leave a note for his doctor. Just a minute.”

Once she’d written it, she said, “I’m sorry Joe didn’t react more to you, John.”

“Yeah. I guess it would be silly to think that a guy he hasn’t seen in decades could get a rise out of him.”

Now Marlena needed to change his focus. “John, something unexpected happened this morning. That’s why I was a little late getting here — sorry about that, by the way.”

“What happened?” he asked a trifle warily.

“Remember I mentioned my oldest daughter, Carrie, who lives in LA?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “She’s your stepdaughter, and the one who didn’t believe I was her father. Smart girl, that one.”

Marlena let out a “Hmph,” at that and mock-glared at him. John flashed her a cheeky smile.

“Well, I neglected to read my emails yesterday, and so I missed her telling me that she intended to come up this way today. By the time I did read it this morning, she was practically at my door already.”

“She’s here in Palo Alto?”

“She’s here in a waiting room. John, I told her about you. And she would like to see you. Is that alright? Can I take you to her?”

John exhaled mightily. “I don’t know. She’s going to be disappointed that I don’t know her. I could ‘reminisce’ one-sidedly with Joe, but she’d be the one doing the one-sided reminiscing, and that would leave us both unhappy.”

“Please. I know I’m springing this on you. And that’s not fair because you don’t have more time to prepare. But, what can you prepare? Just see her. All right?” Marlena hooked her arm into his right one and before he could say yea or nay, they entered the waiting room where Carrie sat thumbing through emails on her phone. Seeing them, she stuffed the phone into her purse and before John knew it, she threw her arms around him.

Marlena watched a little enviously. Carrie had done so naturally what she had not yet done at all. She’d wanted to embrace him, but she hadn’t done it.

“John,” Carrie exclaimed. “I’m so happy to see you. Thank God you’re alive.”

Surprised at the enthusiasm and love from Carrie, John put his free arm around her too. “Carrie.”

Marlena saw the light in his eye and the moisture. She guessed he was feeling happy in a bittersweet way that here was another person who cared about him.

The three ended up in a diner John assured the two ladies cooked tasty breakfasts. The usual patrons came in earlier, so they had the little place practically to themselves.

Carrie had questions, and John willingly answered a number for her. One in particular interested Marlena greatly. “You said you’d been here a couple months. Where were you recuperating before?”

“I spent a lot of time at the Washington D.C. V.A. Medical Center. Had a number of my reconstructive surgeries there.”

“Before Marlena saw you, where were you going to go after you finished your physical therapy and the adjusting of the brace?”

John finished chewing and swallowing his current mouthful of English muffin. “I thought I might go to Santa Rosa. It’s –”

He was about to explain its location in California, but Carrie quickly interjected, “I know it. Austin, my husband, has an old tennis partner who lives there. Also, it’s just a few miles from Petaluma, where you lived as a boy, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Aren’t you worried about fires? The one they had two years ago, the so-called Tubbs fire, wiped out whole neighborhoods in Santa Rosa, didn’t it?”

“It did. I wasn’t there at the time, but my acreage came under mandatory evacuation orders. Thankfully, it did not catch fire. The last huge fire in that area took the stage fifty years ago, so I hope we aren’t due for another for some time.”

Marlena asked, “What kind of property do you own?”

“It’s a house on a few acres of property in the hills. It’s an investment I bought quite a number of years ago when I cashed in some bonds my parents left me. I’d been renting it out. But I thought I might go live there.”

“Do you have any relatives there?” Carrie inquired.

“Just one cousin left in Petaluma. Kent Snow is his name. He’s the surviving son of my mother’s sister. He’s about eight years older than I am. He taught math at the high school his entire career. I have another cousin, Terry Darrow. But he made Florida his home when he went to college. I haven’t seen either one of them since I was a kid.”

“So you plan to retire there?” Carrie persisted, without any judgment. She just wanted to know.

“I was thinking about it, yes. It’s usually got good weather, and with modern instant communications, I could still consult for any agencies that might ask” (John had not given Carrie specifics, just generalities, about his work). “Also, I’ve made some inquiries about helping coach little league and maybe other sports.”

As John and Carrie conversed, Marlena again envied Carrie who hadn’t let anything interfere with this opportunity to spend time with a man she’d thought she would never see again. While Marlena weighed every word, she thought Carrie felt free to speak without restraint. And John responded to that. But then, Marlena reflected, Carrie approached John from the perspective of having been a ‘daughter.’ Marlena’s past romantic relationship with him had clouded her ability to be so unguarded. Marlena mentally rebuked herself for that. She had hung back for fear of being hurt, she realized.

John asked Carrie questions about her work, about Austin, and about her plans. “Do you two intend to make LA your permanent base?”

Carrie said she doubted it because neither of them liked the horrible traffic or some of the pretensions they had to deal with when working for high-profile clients.

“Where would you like to live?”

“What’s Austin like?”

“What do you like to do when you aren’t working?”

Yes, Marlena thought as she watched those two, even though John didn’t remember Carrie, their old, familiar relationship could be seen reemerging. For the third time, Marlena envied Carrie. The younger woman had, in a sense, her RoJohn ‘father’ back, whereas Marlena did not have her lover, her soulmate back yet.

Finally, they had to part. Carrie had to get to her appointment. And John and Marlena were going to get that flight to Salem. Marlena had used part of the time Carrie and John gabbed to text Dr. Chang and ask for that change in her schedule. She told him it was a personal emergency, and assured him she would return to complete the consults. Dr. Chang granted her request without argument.

Carrie really felt badly about having such a short time to get reacquainted with John. But it was John, not Marlena, who said, “Carrie, don’t worry. We’ll get together again. Count on it. And there is always the phone or email.”

“I wish I were going with you to Salem,” Carrie lamented.

“Honey, if you can arrange it, you are always welcome at my townhouse. You and Austin. I promise to pay more timely attention to the communications I’m getting. If you text or email me, I’ll do my best to make sure I read it asap.”

Carrie tightly hugged them both and departed while Marlena and John headed back to the hospital.

“I thought you said Dr. Chang approved your request?” John asked.

“He did, but then I got a text from him asking me to come right away if possible. He didn’t say why.”

John said he’d wait in the Cherokee for her, but she persuaded him to come inside with her. She texted Dr. Chang, and in a few minutes she and John arrived at his open office door. Seeing them, Dr. Chang beckoned them inside.

Marlena introduced John, and Dr. Chang and he shook hands. Dr. Chang looked excited. “Dr. Evans, I understand you were with Joe Catenacci earlier this morning.”

Marlena corrected that, “Both of us,” she waved at John and herself, “were. Why? Is something wrong with Mr. Catenacci?”

“No! When the attendants came to get him ready for transfer, he gave a sharp shake of his body and let out this huge groan. Then his eyes focused and he swallowed and croaked, “Don’t touch me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Marlena’s mouth fell open. “He’s broken out of his catatonia?”

“Yes! I went to see him. He’s cantankerous, but he’s conscious and responding.”

John broke into a wide grin, and he pulled Marlena against his side and hugged her.

Marlena quickly put her arm around his midsection and strongly returned the embrace.

Then she told Dr. Chang. “I think John is the one to thank for this.” She looked up at John. “You got through to him, John. His reactions were delayed, but he heard what you said, and that probably spurred him to start existing again.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe I helped a little, but couldn’t it be a culmination of a lot of stimulation and care he’s received here?”

Dr. Chang replied, “With cases like this, it is usually very difficult to pinpoint the stimulus that actually pulled the patient out of that state, but thank you, Mr. Darrow, for coming and talking to him today. You might have been that tipping point he needed.”

“So he’s still here?” John asked.

“Yes. We asked him if we could move him to a different room. I wanted him to have a roommate who is friendly and talkative. I’m hoping that will further stimulate his willingness to relate to the outside world again.”

Overjoyed at this turn of events, Marlena and John went to the new room. The names by the door read:
Arnie Trine
Joe Catenacci

Marlena had talked to Arnie when the hospital admitted him a few days ago. When she and John entered, the privacy curtains were retracted so both Arnie and Joe could see each other and their visitors. Arnie waved at Marlena. “Hi, Dr, Evans!”

“Hello, Arnie. You seem chipper today.”

“I’m feeling a lot better. My daughter will be taking me home tomorrow,” he informed her cheerfully.

Marlena knew he’d been admitted with depression, and one of the reasons he’d given for it was that he could not turn to his immediate family for support. Apparently, that had changed, and the prospect of seeing his daughter and living with her had changed Arnie’s outlook. Without looking at his chart (and she didn’t because he wasn’t her patient now), Marlena couldn’t be certain, but she suspected he was also on some mild antidepressants. She smiled at him and gave him a thumbs up.

Meanwhile, Joe saw them too, of course. He growled at John, “Don’t gloat. You think your story about a little kid would change my life? There are sob stories all over this globe, man.”

John stood at the foot of Joe’s bed, reached out and gave his foot a little shake. “Not gloating a bit, Joe. Just happy as hell that something got your operating system started again. You’re a good guy, and this mixed up world needs every good man it can get. You’re not surplus, Kittens.” John grinned at him, even though Joe scowled.

“You want to be grumpy, Joe, go ahead,” John said affably, coming around and sitting down in the chair beside his old army comrade.

Marlena came and stood by John’s side. “I’m very happy about your turnaround too.” She didn’t introduce herself, believing that Joe had heard Arnie call her by name.

Joe lay back against his pillows. “It’s going to be a while until I get solid food, they said. I want a juicy steak, but it’s not happening.”

Marlena nodded. “Your body needs a chance to adjust. Just like earlier today, your voice wasn’t really working, was it? Now, after some water and some lubrication with your own saliva, it’s coming back.”

“It’s still really gravelly,” Joe complained.

John gave his old friend a searching look. “The main thing is you didn’t give up. I’m going to be out of town this week, but when I come back, let’s talk, okay? That’s me saying something and you replying. You say something so I can respond. A real conversation. I hate giving monologues to my friends.”

“Okay.” Joe said grudgingly. Then he added, with some signs of affection, “Thanks for coming.” And he cracked a little smirk.

When John and Marlena once again sat buckled up in the Cherokee, Marlena said, “Whew. Today has already been a whirlwind, and it’s not even 1 pm yet!”

“That’s a fact.” John turned his head toward her. “Look, I made a few calls this morning, and there is a small government jet that’s taking off from the San Jose Airport tonight at 10 pm. It takes about four hours to reach Chicago. That’d be about 4 am there. For a reasonable fare, we can hitch a ride on it if you want. I’ll rent a car there, since I think I should have one while in Salem. How long is it by car?”

“About three hours,” Marlena replied.

“Sound okay?”

Marlena nodded. They were really going to do this. She wondered if she should forewarn anyone in Salem before they descended on them. “Yes, thank you. That sounds like a good plan, John.”

John deposited her at her hotel. Both of them would take the next few hours to make their separate preparations. John would pick her up later for the drive to the San Jose International Airport.

Marlena went to the front desk and explained that she would need to check out. It was already past the normal 11 a.m. checkout time, so she would be charged for this Saturday night. Then she also made a new reservation so she could come back on Sunday, October 20 and stay through the 25th. She counted herself lucky the hotel wasn’t yet fully booked. But that made sense since tourist season began waning around this time of year.

In her room, she felt a tiny stab of regret that she would undoubtedly be assigned a different room next week. She really liked this one.

Marlena took off her shoes and wearily lay down on the top of the bed with just a light blanket covering her. She made sure to set the alarm. Relaxing her body, she tried to take a nap, but her mind played incessantly over so many of the details of the last few days, and projected forward into the possible scenarios when she and John reached Salem.

She debated whether to phone John and ask if they could invite Carrie to come with them. She thought Carrie had a right to be involved in more of the family ‘reunion.’ But, she hesitated because John barely knew her, let alone Carrie, and maybe it wasn’t fair to ask him to travel with them both.

Besides, Sami would be missing the ‘reunion’ as well. Marlena fingered her phone. Should she call Sami and ask her to fly to Salem? Maybe she should ask both Sami and Carrie to do that? Come on their own. What reason would she give Sami? And it was nearly 11 p.m. in Switzerland. Should she wait until tomorrow? Sami probably wouldn’t make it for a few days regardless, and by then many of the fireworks ought to be over with the other ‘children.’ But Marlena knew Sami’s night owl habits. Jake, a businessman, often traveled in Europe and North America, so it was possible that Sami was home busily writing another one of her ‘Sara Kingston, Ex-Pat Detective’ novels. Marlena dialed, hoping she wouldn’t be intruding on Jake and Sami or on Sami actually sleeping.

“Hello? Mom?”

“Hi, sweet girl.”

“Is something wrong, Mom?”

“No, Sami. I know it’s late there. I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t caught you at a bad time.”

“Not a problem. Jake’s in Cologne, Germany right now.”

“Okay good. Sami, I have a favor to ask you.”

“Mm ‘kay. What is it?”

“Would you be able to leave the kids with their nanny for a few days and come to Salem?”

“When?”

“Now. As soon as you could make arrangements and fly out.”

“Uh. Mom, I know you like to celebrate Eric’s and my birthday with us, but –”

“I do enjoy that, but I have another, very important reason for asking you to come. And I can’t talk to you about it on the phone.”

“Mom. You’re not ill, are you? You didn’t get some kind of ominous diagnosis, did you?”

“No, sweetie, I promise you, I’m not sick.”

There was silence on the line, and Marlena waited for Sami to consider.

“When do you want me there?”

“As soon as you can come. I’m going to return to Salem too. I’m flying a red eye tonight, and will stay a week before I fly back to California to finish my obligations here.”

“Can’t you just tell me now?”

“No, it’s, I mean, it’s better if you can see for yourself.”

“That’s pretty cryptic, Momma. Okay, I’ll see what I can do and text you back.”

“Thank you, honey. Love you. Bye.”

Marlena didn’t like texting too much. The micro screen keypads on phones slowed her ability to get messages out quickly. She also avoided the voice option for texting because often those required manual corrections. But Carrie might be in her meeting right now, and Marlena didn’t want to disrupt that. Laboriously, she formulated her suggestion that Carrie (either by herself or with Austin) come to Salem too.

Setting her phone on the nightstand, Marlena’s eyes felt heavy. After a few minutes she dropped off into slumber.

Next thing she knew, she was back in the hospital, talking to a doctor who had some of Dr. Chang’s features and some of Panny Green’s. The doctor gave her a sheet of paper with a single sentence: FIND JOLENA. “Go do it,” he ordered her.

Marlena looked in every single room, every single closet, every single space. Everyone she met, she asked, “Are you Jolena?” No one was. “Do you know Jolena?” No one did.

She left the hospital and began to canvas the outskirts of the hospital and as she moved away, the surroundings changed from metropolitan to wilderness. Bo rushed up to her and shouted, “Stay with us. Don’t wander off again.” But in an instant he’d disappeared. A man she didn’t know brandished a gun at her, and she, irrationally, decided to follow him…at a “safe” distance. But he scrambled into the gondola of a large balloon and floated away over a river that meandered endlessly. Then one large hawk winged his way back and forth above her head. She stumbled into trees and thought she heard voices so she ran toward them, but even when she changed direction several times, she never got closer to them. They faded, and she stumbled out into a clearing. She decided to get this “Jolena” to come to her. With all her strength she shouted, “JOLENA!” A little wolf cub scampered up and when he was close enough to touch if she bent over to him, he yapped at her, “Look down!”

Marlena told the animal, “There is no ‘down’ here!” But just as she pronounced the words, she saw the earth in front of her give way and a long, steep ravine revealed itself. Cautiously, she inched to the edge. Far down at the bottom she saw one figure lying all askew. “John,” she screamed at the inert person. How could she get to him? “Help, help,” she cried, but the wilderness offered her nothing. Then a huge buzzard appeared and flew to her, flapping his wings to stay stationary, and he told her, foul breath in her face, “Throw yourself down and at least you’ll be together. He’s not coming back. He can’t.”

Defiantly, Marlena shouted, “Let me ride on your back, and take me down to him!”

The buzzard cawed at her, his own version of laughter, and flew off. But then Marlena spied a ladder, very long and very rickety. She couldn’t see where it ended, but she thought it might take her to the bottom of the ravine. As she struggled down it, huge winds buffeted it and sent it careening against the side of the cliff. She thought she’d break her neck (and every other bone in her body), but she kept descending. Finally at the bottom, she frantically looked for the splayed body she’d been sure was John’s. But in the spot where he should have lain, she spied only a grimy piece of paper. Partially crumpled, she saw “Jo” written on it. When she pulled and straightened the paper and then properly spread out, it read “John and Marlena, 1986, RIP.’

Marlena screamed, and threw the paper away, sinking down onto the spot and wailing. The buzzard came and hovered a mere few feet above her and again screeched out his horrible laugh, while the little wolf sat down too and laughed so hard he turned into a hyena.

With a cry and a start, Marlena woke. Shaking, she took deep breaths and reoriented herself. It had only been a nightmare. A crazy, sickening dream.

Marlena checked her text messages, but there was nothing from Carrie.

After freshening up, she went to the hotel restaurant and ordered a Cobb salad and sat by the large windows, hoping to enjoy the evening light. But, still absorbed in her thoughts, she left more than she should have on her plate, and she forgot the view outside. Returning to her room, she felt the phone buzz. Carrie would get a flight and come. Austin would join her as soon as he could.

Good! Marlena felt she’d accomplished something. The family would be reuniting.

As she packed up her things, some of the images of her dream came to her unbidden. Marlena seldom experienced such crazy dreams. And she couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding. Because she feared most of all that John would never again feel for her what he had. Of course, she also feared he’d never remember the times with the various children either. But she didn’t think they would be quite as devastated as she would be if that occurred.

When the time came, she rolled her suitcase to the lobby and checked out. She waited for John and his Cherokee.

Sunday

Marlena reset her watch to Chicago/Salem time when the plane touched down. Both she and John had slept most of the flight.

Now, she didn’t need to check her watch or her phone for the time. She simply looked at the dashboard Infotainment system between them, and the illuminated digits told her it was 6:24 a.m.

Heading south, they made excellent time in the sparse, early Sunday morning traffic. They expected to arrive at her townhouse in about an hour.

John had chosen a Chevy Cruze sedan at the rental agency. Marlena got a kick out of the exterior color name: Oakwood Metallic. She liked even more the interior’s dual color scheme of jet black and umber. With John alert but relaxed at the wheel, the auto cruised at just above the speed limit.

They hadn’t talked much. Instead, they’d listened to various kinds of music. Marlena still knew what John had liked years ago, but in the long interim, she found much had been added to his list. And he often asked her whether she enjoyed a certain piece of music, obviously getting a better feel for her tastes.

They also tuned into the news, since in the last few days neither had paid much attention to the larger outside world. Marlena was struck by the natural disasters. First, they heard about Typhoon Hagibis making landfall in Japan, and then, shockingly, the news reported about the spreading wildfires in Southern California. This alarmed Marlena. Carrie had mentioned fires in the dry California south yesterday after she’d asked John whether he was concerned about more fires in the north near his rural house. Were these fires threatening the condo where Austin and Carrie lived? She needed to text or call Carrie about that when Carrie got up in two or three hours.

Telling John her worries, he asked exactly where they lived. Hearing her answer he said, “According to the reports then, they aren’t in danger, and haven’t been told to evacuate. They are well inside city limits, giving them higher protection.”

“But that could change. And, that, in turn, could affect their ability to travel to Salem. Not that that’s my primary concern here.”

John noted sensibly, “Carrie is still in Morgan Hill, isn’t she?”

Marlena would have to find out when she spoke to or texted Carrie.”At least we don’t have those huge wildfires in Salem.”

“You said you lived by the river, in a townhouse now, right?”

“Yes, they built two blocks back to back of narrow brownstone type townhouses about twenty years ago. I always admired them when I passed by. As luck would have it, one of them went on the market just as I decided to sell the house. The floor plan is quite simple. The ground floor houses a bedroom/bath to the right when you come in the front door. The two-car garage behind the bedroom is driven into from the street between the two rows of townhouses.

“On the second floor, the kitchen is in the back, over the garage, then the dining area. And the living room, above the first-floor bedroom, provides a view of the river. The third floor situates the master bed/bath at the front of the building. It also has a lovely view. The other guest bedroom/bath is just down the hall. It’s not a huge townhouse, but it’s not cramped at all either.”

“Sounds ideal.”

“I hope the stairs won’t be a problem for your leg, John.”

“I’ll manage, don’t worry.”

Marlena’s phone vibrated. The text from Sami succinctly informed, “Got flight. In Salem Wednesday. Will email itinerary.”

Marlena relayed this to John and thought to herself: by then most of the family will already know the explosive secret.

As if he could read her mind, John said, “Hope she won’t mind that everyone will know about me before she arrives.”

Giving a wry laugh, Marlena replied, “Sami had a tough adolescence. She and Eric were still toddlers when I disappeared and you were left with them. Then, when I and Roman reappeared in succession in their lives, and you left, they were very confused. Eric became quieter and more introspective, but Sami acted out. And this continued throughout her teens. She and I butted heads many times. Sami did bond with her father after a while, but nothing I did met with her approval. Finally, she went away to college — at the University of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign. Then she got a chance to do a one-year exchange program in Switzerland and there she met another exchange studen –”,

“Jake Lawrence.”

“Quite! They dated. They broke up. When Sami graduated, she came back to Salem and landed an entry position at Titan — where Brady works now. She stayed for a couple years before jumping to a competitor. Five years after they first met, Jake surprised her with a visit, and within three weeks they were not only engaged but married. He had continued to live and work in Switzerland after he finished a Master’s Degree in Business, so Sami agreed to move there with him. Sami and Jake have, as I mentioned, three children. Jake Jr., seven, Lauri Ann, five (although she insists we all say ‘five-and-a-half’ since she passed that marker), and Marlena Samantha whom they call Mindy. She’s two.”

“Sorry they’re so far away.”

“Me too. I’d love to see them grow day by day, but Jake is really settled professionally there.”

Glancing at her, John suggested, “I guess you could move to Switzerland — or maybe spend half your year in Salem and half over there?”

“Oh, I have thought about it, believe me.”

“But?”

“Sami and I get along well now. But I think part of that is because we are not generally in the same city. I’m not sure we would have such a peaceful accord if I were nearby.”

“You and Eric get along?”

Marlena smiled, thinking of her tall, blond son. “Eric always loved me. He had his problems with Roman when he came back, but if he had any anger at me, he didn’t show it or express it.

“And you should know that Eric and Sami both missed you. You were their dad, John, for their early years. Sometimes if Roman did something that angered Eric, he would throw that in his face. Eric wouldn’t do that unless Roman really riled him, but sometimes Roman couldn’t seem to help himself and rode him. I think Roman wanted Eric to be less introspective and more of an action man. I also know Roman harbored a wish that Eric would follow in his footsteps as a cop.

“Once I asked Eric about that — did he have any interest in joining the police force? I’ll never forget his answer. He was silent for nearly a minute, and I thought he’d decided not to reply. But then he shifted his steady gaze to me, ‘Mom, Dad — John, I mean — as a kid I remember him going to work at the cop shop. He was a great police officer, I’ve been told. But when he was home, he was just Dad. If he were here now, I bet he wouldn’t put any pressure on me to be a copy of him. I don’t like that this dad, my own biological father, does it. I’m seeking my own path, Mom.’ ”

She looked over at John and saw him swallow. He said, “Did Roman give his blessing to Eric when he started studying for the priesthood?”

Marlena nodded. “Yes, he did. The Irish Bradys are a Catholic family, and Roman’s parents, Shawn and Caroline, were both so proud of Eric. Roman saw the respect and love the rest of his family had for Eric’s choice, and he showed him that same respect and love. I think he really did come to fully support Eric’s seminary studies, his ordination, and his work as a parish priest.”

“You too?”

“I was always in Eric’s corner. I hoped that he would never regret foregoing marriage and children — I still hope that. But I just wanted him to follow his heart, and he spent a great deal of time in high school praying about it and discerning.”

Marlena added, “I’m not Catholic. I never converted when I married Roman. So, I’m kind of an outsider in the family in that sense. Oh, I went to church with them, and I agreed to let all the children be raised as Catholic. But I was raised as a Presbyterian. My family has been Presbyterian for generations. So, I just didn’t convert.

“When you came to Salem, John, and we were all convinced you were Roman, you were as Catholic as the rest of the family. It seemed very natural to you. Do you have any religious affiliation now?”

“That’s a good question. When I escaped from the syndicate and returned to my previous life with the AIAF in 2002, I really didn’t give a lot of thought to religion. My parents, John and Helen, sent me to Sunday school at a Bible church when I was a boy. And I attended the Catholic high school in the area because it had a stellar academic and sports reputation — maybe that’s why I seemed as Catholic as the Bradys. Both my parents were God-fearing people who sought to do the Lord’s will, but they were not inclined to be what they called ‘religious.’ They were content to seek God in prayer and in action in the world. I have kind of followed their examples in the last quarter of a century.

“But, it’s interesting that you ask right now, because when I was in the hospital in Washington recovering from all my injuries from the fall, the chaplain who most often came to see me was a Fr. Herb Zakowicz. And he got me interested in the Catholic Church again. So, I’ve been going to Mass in Palo Alto. But I haven’t been received into the Church.”

At this point, they approached the city limits of Salem. As they glided along still quite empty streets, Marlena began to point out landmarks that had been familiar to John when he lived there.

They went by The Brady Pub, The Penthouse Grill, the pier that had been so important to them. Marlena had him make a detour to pass by his old loft, and they also went by the house where John had been Roman Brady — the suburb house next to the Hortons’ that Marlena had recently sold.

Marlena watched avidly for any sign of recognition in John, but she couldn’t detect anything. Finally, they headed for her townhouse. He idled the car in front of the driveway, which, as Marlena’d said, opened at the rear of the townhouse. She found the garage door opener fob in her purse and pressed it. The door retracted upward. But Marlena had to get out of the rental and unlock her own Mercedes-Benz C-Class which she’d bought new six years ago. She partially backed out of the garage and parked it closer to the wall so the Chevy Cruze could maneuver alongside. The fairly bright overhead lights stayed on as Marlena then closed the garage door again.

They pulled their luggage from the Cruze trunk, and Marlena unlocked the door from the garage into the hall that passed by the third bedroom. Its door was closed, and they didn’t stop to look inside. Instead, they moved on to the stairway that led upstairs. Beyond the stairs, a few more steps led one to the front entrance to the townhouse. An intercom and camera setup by that front door allowed Marlena, from upstairs, to monitor and buzz in anyone she wanted who didn’t have a key.

John stopped before they started up though. “I can stay in the bedroom down here.”

Marlena asked, “Are you concerned about stairs? Once you’re up on the main second floor, it is just one more staircase to the bedrooms on the third floor, and so whichever spare bedroom you use, you’ll have the same number of stairs to either climb or descend.”

“No, I was just thinking that when either Carrie or Sami stay here, they might prefer being upstairs with you.”

Marlena smiled charmingly at him. “One of them will be fine here, and the other — looks like it will be Sami — can stay at the Salem Inn which is only a couple miles from here — or she can even sleep on the sofa bed in the front room if she prefers. It’s quite comfy too.”

John didn’t argue. He held his bag and his cane in one hand and held onto the bannister with his other as he slowly followed Marlena. The staircase brought them to approximately the middle of the second floor space. Marlena watched as John, looking to his left, saw a very modern kitchen with a small island and decorative frosted glass doors on the cabinets. The kitchen wall had been painted a warm “egg nog”.

A half bath fit in snugly behind a generous pantry space.

The dining area contained an oval table with a graceful, not-chunky, oak pedestal base. A sky-blue tablecloth reached low to the floor. Four comfortable wooden chairs with gray upholstery surrounded the table. Against the wall, a modest glass and wood buffet exhibited some fine dishes. And a few feet away a rustic-wood computer desk with a file drawer hugged the wall, another of the dining chairs in its leg well. A sixth dining chair rested against the wall next to the desk. Unopened mail and a laptop computer lay on the desktop.

The walls in the small dining area and then in the living room had been painted white, lending a pristine brightness to the home. The living room contained a number of comfortable stuffed chairs arranged at various angles; a sofa; a glass-doored curio cabinet with knick knacks and framed photos; a narrow, high bookshelf nearly filled to capacity; a side table; two small end tables for the sofa on which stood brass lamps; and a flat screen TV on one side wall. Cobalt blue throw pillows and blankets united the various colors and materials of the furniture. Here at the front of the house, large windows allowed in plentiful light.

Polished hardwood — natural white oak — stretched from end to end of the second floor. In the living room, a neutral salt ‘n pepper carpet covered the area on which the sofa and the chairs stood. Under the dining table, a small oriental area rug showed off lively blues, oranges, creams, and reds.

John took it all in. Giving an admiring nod of his head, he said, “You have lovely taste in decoration, Marlena.”

“Thank you! I’m glad you like it. Come upstairs and see the bedrooms.”

The master bedroom combined various hues of yellow and brown for a whole that looked like sunshine, especially when the actual rays of the sun shone through big windows with their many smaller framed sections. This bedroom was built, of course, right above the living room. A light beige carpet with a very short nap had been laid wall to wall. In the far corner an eggshell upholstered chaise lounge with patterned back pillows looked inviting. Next to it stood a low, oval wooden table with upturned borders that held a large-based lamp, a photograph and a couple medical journals. The chair angled toward the queen-size bed tucked against the opposing wall. The dark wood headboard gracefully arched, much of it hidden by pillows in shades of creams and browns. The plump white comforter serving as a bedspread was offset by a goldenrod folded velvet blanket for colder nights. At the foot of the bed sat a tufted upholstered bench with some storage space inside, the exact same color as the bed’s folded blanket. Two night tables bookended the head of the bed, and on each table an identical shaded lamp with a slim, curving body stood ready to provide additional light. Several plants provided greenery. The entire room had been painted laguna yellow — pale but charactered. Well, everything but the window sills, which shone white. Small, mellow yellow and brown checks decorated the curtains at the window. And paired smaller photos in oversized black walnut frames hung over the bed and behind the chaise.

Standing in it with Marlena and perusing its details, John whistled quietly. “It really seems to suit you. It’s beautiful.” He didn’t go into her bathroom, which she told him had a walk-in closet on the far side. In fact, he didn’t really venture too far into the bedroom.

Putting down her own baggage, Marlena led him down the hall into the guest room at the back of the third floor. Like downstairs, this room contained hardwood floors — but in this case, very dark chocolate color boards, which contrasted strikingly with the white walls. The double bed stood a little higher off the floor than Marlena’s bed did. Its machined patchwork quilt featured a lattice effect with different squares of predominantly black, gray, white, and beige/tan patterns. A small chest of drawers, painted muted green and partnering well with the beige in the bedspread, stood in a corner next to the closet door. The bathroom, with shower, opened on the other side of the room. One night stand with a modern LED lamp stood next to the bed, and beside it a gray, cloth covered wingback chair and a matching ottoman with long legs finished the furnishings. A few more photos adorned the walls, as did one colorful watercolor.

John set his things on top of the chest of drawers. “This room is really nice too,” The watercolor, 12” by 14” and framed very understatedly, caught his eye. Observing it closely, he added, “This looks like an original, not a print.”

Marlena came to stand by him in front of it. “Yes, it is.” The painting depicted a summer garden with multitudes of blooming flowers including butterfly weed, Lenten roses, geraniums, bee balm, and daylilies. A dog lay sunning himself near the low fence, and a rotating sprinkler spritzed out water onto the lush lawn.

“It’s so colorful and bright. Makes me want to be there. Do you know the artist?” John asked.

“Yes” She smiled shyly. “I painted it. It’s part of the backyard of someone I know. You’ll have a chance to see the yard and the dog in person, I hope.”

John looked duly impressed. “You have talent. Did you paint back when I knew you?”

She shook her head. “No. I only started dabbling in watercolors after Roman died. And this happens to be what I think is my best effort to date. Sometimes, if I’m sending someone a card, I’ll paint a little design or something simple on the cover, but I haven’t yet painted anything more intricate than this scene. And I haven’t tried painting people.”

“Well, based on this cheery painting, you should continue this hobby. I’m glad it’s mounted in here where I can see it.”

Marlena, happy to hear his praise, still felt a little self-conscious, and decided to change the subject. “If you find the bed uncomfortable, let me know. As I mentioned, there are other places in this house to sleep.” After she said it, Marlena wondered if he thought she was flirting with him. Had she been? Honestly, she wasn’t sure. Mostly, John seemed to want to keep a distance, and she had to respect that. But, she also wondered how she was going to sleep tonight, knowing he was right down the hall.

“I’ll leave you to get settled and freshen up. I think I have some breakfast items in the kitchen, but I’ll have to check. If you don’t mind eating oatmeal or something, I’m pretty sure I’ve got that. If I have eggs, I’d better check the expiration dates though. They may not be edible anymore.”

She decided she was babbling and told herself to stop. As she moved out of the room, John said, “Thank you, Marlena. Thanks for letting me stay here and helping me meet people I should never have been parted from.”

She came back in and decided she should be as brave as Carrie. She went to him and put her arms around him, With her face against his chest, she breathed in the scent of his nearly faded cologne (a different one than she remembered) and his own scent. She hugged him saying, “I used to tell you you smelled so good. That hasn’t changed.”

John hugged her back, using only one arm because he had his cane in the other. He put his cheek — which now needed a shave — against the top of her head. His arm came up and he touched her hair. When Marlena pulled her head back a little and looked at him, he met her eyes. And then he lowered his head and oh so gently kissed her. Closed lips to closed lips. Marlena felt the joy of it as they both deepened the kiss. Now they were open to one another. But she could tell he was still holding back purposely. After a few more moments of that intimacy, he just as gently disengaged. He didn’t speak. He just looked at her, seeming to search her eyes, then the rest of her countenance, beseeching them to release to him the memories he didn’t have. Finally, he smiled at her, a smile tinged with sadness. “I need to shave and all, but I’ll be down soon.”

Marlena lightly touched his raspy cheek with her hand. “Take a shower if you want. I’d better get cleaned up too before foraging in the fridge.”

After she took a shower, happy to be in her own home again, Marlena chose a pair of dark brown chinos, sensible but still dressy shoes, and an Italian-made tin blue/green powder stitch sweater with bell sleeves. She also hunted in her jewelry case for the charm bracelet John had given her the Christmas just before he left and, for the first time since that day so long ago, clasped it on her wrist.

Once downstairs, she saw John, dressed in a pair of regular fit black jeans (to better accommodate his leg brace, she assumed) and a knit, collared natural wool pullover over a t-shirt. Back to her, he rooted in the refrigerator. Apparently hearing her, he turned. “Your eggs are still good. Would you mind if I made us a couple of omelettes? I promise I won’t get egg shells in them.”

She laughed good-naturedly and nodded for him to go ahead. She helped him find the pans, etc. while she said “You have a good memory for everything I’ve been telling you these last days.” Then she added, “I can hardly believe it’s only been five days since I first saw you in the Physical Therapy waiting room.”

Once they had downed the very tasty omelettes and cleaned up, it was just after 9 a.m. Marlena leaned against the counter and said, “Before I give anyone a call, John, there’s something else I need to tell you.”

“Oh? I thought you’d told me the highlights. Especially about my son.”

“If you want, I’ll call Brady now and ask him to come right over. I won’t tell him why on the phone. But if you’ll agree, I’d like to ask both him and someone else to come together.”

“Why? Wouldn’t it be better for me to talk to him without the distraction of another person?

“Let me fill you in on something else, and then you can decide, okay?”

They sat in the living room, and Marlena began. “As you know, I told you I have five children. I told you that Roman and I adopted two children. A boy and a girl.”

“Right. And you said later that you didn’t actually adopt Brady.”

“Correct. We were his guardians.” She continued, feeling nervous again. “Well, I haven’t mentioned much about the girl we adopted.”

“That’s okay,” John piped up. “It’s great that you both decided to share your home with an orphan girl who needed a family. I’m sure I’ll get to meet her also since you said she lives in Salem. And I want to. But I think I should talk to Brady first. He deserves answers from me, and even though I can’t offer him a whole lot, I’ll tell him what I’m able.”

“Brady understands more than you think, John.”

John looked confused. “How so?”

Marlena got up from the chair she’d chosen to sit in. She went to the window where the day was brightening up. “John, when I was kidnapped in 1987, we’d been living as a married couple for months. As I told you, I didn’t remember what happened to me during those years I was away. But since then I have learned that Orpheus took me away to an island because he bore a huge grudge against you.” She hated saying that, but felt it necessary.

“Why”

“Because, while he busily committed crimes, and you sought to arrest him, a tragic incident took place in which his wife died. She showed up during a showdown between you two, got in between you, and took a bullet from your gun. It was a terrible accident, and you felt awful about it. Orpheus, who did love his wife very much, hated you for killing her and vowed vengeance. That’s the reason he took me. He wanted you to suffer the grief of the loss of your beloved just as he had.”

John looked mortified. “So, it WAS my fault that you were kidnapped and prevented from seeing your children for five years.”

Marlena came to him and knelt in front of him and took his hands in hers. “NO. It was not your fault. You didn’t mean to harm her in any way. She got in the way, and it was, as I said, a tragic accident. What Orpheus did to me, he did intentionally, viciously, and out of hate. You didn’t.”

John didn’t look convinced, but he said, “Okay, go on with the story, please.”

Marlena stood and this time sat on the sofa. “When I came back in 1991, I had no idea what I’d been doing those missing years.”

“I know the feeling,” John interjected.

“You certainly do,” Marlena agreed. She continued. “I thought later that maybe Stefano DiMera had snatched me. And I thought for a while that I was in a coma or something the entire time I was away. But ultimately, I did find out from stitching together a number of clues, and from a very few flashbacks I experienced, that I’d been with Orpheus and his children. And I learned I had been awake for at least some of those years. Orpheus wanted me to be his children’s stand-in mother.”

“Because I’d killed their real mother.”

“That was his reasoning — if you can call it reason.” She paused, mentally girding herself for what she would say next. “Also, I know now, although I didn’t for many years, that I was pregnant with your child when I was kidnapped.”

“What? You were pregnant? You lost the baby because of that man’s vendetta against me?” John looked agonized. “Oh, Marlena, I’m so sorry.”

“John, honey, please, let me finish, I didn’t lose the baby.”

“You didn’t? What happened to it then? Did Orpheus keep the child when you returned to Salem?”

“As near as we can tell, Orpheus gave the child to Stefano DiMera who wanted it to have leverage over you and me, and the Bradys. I’m not sure when that happened. Because I don’t recall those years, I can’t tell you anything based on my own knowledge, but I have been told that I had our child with me for at least part of the time I was held by Orpheus.”

Now it was John who couldn’t stay seated. He did his pacing thing — something Marlena was rather used to by now. “Who told you that?”

“I’ve heard it from a couple sources. Orpheus — also known as Milo Harp — for one. When the authorities apprehended him a few years ago, I talked to him at the jail, and he confirmed that. He said I’d been with our daughter.”

“Our daughter.” John repeated that several times in wonder. “1987. Our daughter is now past 30. We’ve got to find her.”

Marlena noted John’s powers of deduction, quite sharp regarding so much of the shocking news she’d delivered so far, weren’t putting the pieces together here. “John, that’s what you did on December 28, 1992. You found out something about all this. You heard that you and I might have a child out there somewhere. You apparently got a lead and decided you had to run it down, and you had to do it immediately and in secrecy, so you told no one in Salem. You thought you’d be back just as you had promised Shawn and Caroline. But something went wrong, and you didn’t come back.”

John, listening intently to all this, said again, “We have to find her. Did you and Roman look?” He held up his hand. “Of course you did. You looked for me. You looked for the child too.”

“At that time, we didn’t know about the child, John. That didn’t happen until one fateful evening in October, 2001.” She paused, girding herself to tell this unbelievable tale.

“That night started like most of our evenings. But unexpectedly, there was a sharp rap on the door. Then more pounding, as well as ring after ring of the doorbell. I happened to be closest to the front door, and I rushed to find out who needed to see us so badly. There before me stood a young girl, grimy, clothes torn, shivering, looking dehydrated and very tired and frightened. She looked like a runaway, a homeless person. I couldn’t really judge her age. I got her inside, and by then Roman and the kids had all gathered around just as dumbfounded as I. Roman, ever the police officer said, ‘Young lady. I’m Commander Brady, Salem Police. Have you been assaulted? Are you in danger? Tell me, so I can help you.’

“She started shaking more and then she gulped convulsively and said in an accented, halting, and terrified voice, ‘Yes, there are men out there who kidnapped me. Now they might be after my dad! Please help us! Find him! Save him from them.’

“Roman leaped into action and got the search going. I took the girl to the kitchen and gave her food and drink. I asked how she’d come to our door. ‘They had the address,’ she said, ‘I think my dad made them bring me here.’

“The girl stared at me most of all. She looked at Sami and Eric (Brady had already been tucked into bed), and Roman when he was in the room. But she appeared fascinated with me.

“Finally, I asked her, ‘Honey, why are you staring at me? What’s wrong?’

“She dropped her eyes guiltily. She said in the faintest voice imaginable, ‘Nothing’s wrong. Daddy told me about you, but I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you in person.’

“I just about had a heart attack right then. ‘Who are you?’ I asked, feeling faint, horrified, and elated all at once.

“ ‘I’m Emma. Emma Black.’ ”

John’s face lost all color. “She was the child you had on the island. Our daughter.”

“That’s right. You found her somehow, John. And you were with her for about nine years. Then, something happened, and she came to us and was rescued. But you didn’t come. You were still out there somewhere. As I said before, we looked long and hard for you again after Emma came, but we never found you, and finally we thought, again that you’d died. That you’d been killed by the men who had pursued and kidnapped Emma.”

“But they let her go?”

“We don’t know exactly why. Those particular men were never caught. But we think it was because somehow you forced them to do so.”

John shook his head in wonder and bewilderment. “I don’t remember any of that. I don’t remember her at all.” He looked terribly pained. “Dear God, how could I forget such vital things as my own children?”

“John, the torture techniques they used on you forced those memory blocks in place. It’s not your fault that you don’t recall.” She willed him to understand that, and perhaps he did because he took a deep breath and seemed to refocus.

“Emma. That’s a beautiful name.”

Marlena smiled. “Yes, when you and I were married, we talked about names for children if we had more after the twins, and Emma was right at the top of your list for girls’ names. I think that’s why I named her that.”

“So,” John said slowly, “Emma is the girl you and Roman ‘adopted’?”

Marlena nodded. “She is. Again, we didn’t adopt her in the usual sense. I was her biological mother (we checked of course) so I didn’t need to adopt her. And Roman would have, but Emma, who was old enough then to have a say, explained she wanted to keep the Black surname. So, both she and Brady kept your name — what they thought was your name.”

John said wonderingly, “She’s the one you said is now 32, is a pediatrician, and has a husband and two twin boys. Right?”

Approaching him again, she stood in front of him and smiled with great joy, but there were also tears because he’d missed so much. They together had missed so much. “Right. Johnny and Teddy — named after their grandfathers — are just a blast . Wait ‘til you meet them.”

Seeing him try to process all this, Marlena urged him to sit on the sofa with her. “I know this is a huge amount of new information. Emma herself is the best person to tell you what she remembers about the nine years you two were together. So let’s wait on that.”

“I have a son, a daughter with you, and two grandchildren. And I never had the faintest idea,” John lamented.

Marlena nodded sympathetically. They were quiet, lost in thought for a few moments. Then Marlena roused herself and collected her cell phone. “What do you want me to do? Shall I call Brady first? Maybe it would be better for you to see them one at a time. Thinking about it, your first inclination was probably wise. It can be even more confusing if you have two people at once to try to catch up with. Besides, Brady is already home from church, I bet, while Emma’s family goes at 9.”

John rubbed his hands on his pants, understandably nervous. “Okay. Sounds like a plan.’

Listening to the digital “ringing” after she selected Brady’s number, Marlena tried to think logically about what to say.

“Hello, Mom,” Brady’s strong, young voice greeted her. “This is a nice surprise. How’s it going in California?”

“Hi, Brady. That’s partly why I’m calling. I’m not in California. I got a plane back last night.”

“Are you alright? You planned to stay until Friday.”

“I’m fine. But something happened while I was there, and I need you to come to the townhouse, right now, if at all possible. There’s someone I need you to meet.”

Brady was silent, and Marlena could well imagine all the possibilities that were running through his head. But he didn’t waste any more words. “Okay. I’m on my way. See you in a bit.”

John’s anxious face waited expectantly. “He’ll be here in about ten minutes — if he was at home. His apartment is on the other side of town, closer to Titan.”

John nodded. “His old man really fits the bill. Gray hair, glasses, gimpy with a cane.” He straightened up fully, a look of determination in his azure eyes.

Encouraging him, Marlena said, “Brady is a sensitive young man, but he doesn’t judge people by their looks. Not that there’s anything wrong with your looks. And besides, he’ll be so amazed to see you that he probably won’t even pay much attention to all that.” She said carefully, “Maybe I should go downstairs and meet him at the door? I can prepare him a little before he comes up here and sees you.”

He just nodded, lost in his own preparations and in trying to absorb the news about Emma.

Marlena actually went outside the townhouse to wait. And in just a few more minutes, Brady’s Mazda 3 slid smoothly into park against the curb on the street.

Watching him proudly, Marlena reflected that Brady was just about John’s height; and he kept his athletic build in shape by going to the gym most days. His short, nearly black hair was styled in the fairly common spiked look of the day. Brady’s face was fronted by Isabella’s nose, with just a touch of pug; his eyes were gray, and the shape of his head, especially his strong chin, came from his father.

Marlena moved to meet him halfway, and seeing her, he hurried too. They embraced. “So glad to see you, Brady.”

“Happy to see you too,” he assured her. “You sounded kind of mysterious on the phone. What’s up?” Brady, the young businessman, liked to get to the point.

Putting her arm affectionately around his waist, she guided him to the townhouse entrance. “I had the most incredible experience in Palo Alto. I saw someone there. At first, I didn’t believe my own eyes.”

Interested, but not obviously comprehending the full import of her experience, Brady said, “Who was it?”

As she opened the door and let them into the building, she said, “Brady, I want you to brace yourself. You are about to meet someone you never thought you would.”

They climbed the staircase, and Marlena, stepping out of Brady’s line of sight, led him toward the living room where John had waited. But now, John moved toward them too.

Watching Brady, Marlena caught the exact moment when the identity of the man in front of him dawned on him. He reeled and blanched and croaked, “Dad?”

John nodded wordlessly and, without his cane, approached Brady and enveloped him in the strongest, most loving bear hug he could. Marlena saw the tears in John’s eyes.

Brady, still stunned, finally reacted and hugged his father back. After the longest time, they broke apart, and John looked at Brady, taking in every detail he could. Memorizing his son, Marlena thought.

The son also stared mesmerized at John. He too had tears in his eyes. He choked out, “You’re alive. You – You’re here. Where did you come from? Where have you been all these years? Everybody searched for you nearly twenty years ago, but there wasn’t a trace.”

John responded by hugging Brady again fiercely. “Son. Please believe me when I say I didn’t stay away on purpose. If I’d been able, I’d have been here for you. I’ve missed so much of your life, and I beg your forgiveness for that.”

Brady moved backward so he could see John more clearly. Obviously, he saw the scar on John’s temple, and he apparently noticed the brace because he said, nodding his head at it, “You were hurt.”

“Yeah, but I’m okay.” John continued, determined to spill out a list of regrets, “Brady, I missed reading to you as a kid. I missed seeing you off to kindergarten. And teaching you how to throw a baseball, and how to bat. I didn’t come to your games. I didn’t give you the talk about the birds and the bees. I wasn’t around when you crossed into adolescence. I couldn’t give you inane advice about dating. I missed your graduations.” John heaved a huge sigh and tears ran down his face. “I’d give anything if I hadn’t missed all the moments in your life.”

Marlena’s heart ached for John. It hadn’t been his fault that he’d missed all that. Brady seemed rocked by not only seeing John but by his declarations of remorse. He didn’t appear to know what to do or say, so Marlena subtly intervened. “Brady, I know this is a shock. I felt the same when I saw John in the V.A. hospital.”

“Brady roused himself from his shocked stupor, “What were you doing at the hospital?” he asked John.

“I was getting this brace fitted.” He slightly shook the brace.

“What happened to your leg?”

“I broke it into many pieces in a very bad fall.”

“Sorry,” Brady said vaguely. He kept staring at John, also trying to soak into his mind’s eye every molecule of his father’s sixty-something face.

“Why don’t you two come sit down?” Marlena invited. She didn’t lead them to the living room. She gently tugged them both to the dining table where two chairs sat quite close together.

Brady said to her, “Sit with us, too.”

“Maybe you two would like a little time alone?” she asked gently.

At first, Brady shifted and seemed alarmed at that idea. John too looked a little lost. But then Brady squared his shoulders. “Thanks, yes, Mom.”

Marlena kissed them both on the tops of their heads and then headed upstairs to her bedroom. Part of her desperately wanted to hear the conversation continue, but she decided that would be selfish. John and Brady needed to tell each other their stories. They needed to try to come to terms with their long, enforced separation. And, she hoped they would then be able to build a good relationship for going forward. They both deserved so much to have each other in their lives. Regrets on John’s part, possible grudges on Brady’s (although she really didn’t think he would harbor any when he heard about John’s life), needed to be washed away in a tide of honesty and love.

Now Marlena debated about whether she should call Emma or wait. Could John deal with another highly charged meeting today? Should she wait until tomorrow and let Brady and John have the rest of the day to be together? She wasn’t sure about Emma’s on-call schedule. If she delayed until tomorrow, would Emma be too busy with work and the twins to come? Would she then have to spell out the situation on the phone instead of in person to get her to come?

Finally, Marlena capitulated to her first inclination, and she rang Emma’s cell. It was now well past 10 am, and she ought to be free to answer the phone. After three rings, Marlena heard the very feminine voice of her second biological daughter. Emma, as was often the case, sounded a little stressed. But she always tried to be bright and cheery too. Quickly, Marlena answered the same questions Brady had had for her. No, she wasn’t in Palo Alto anymore. Yes, she’d returned to Salem early. No, she wasn’t ill.

“Sweetie, I called to ask you about your schedule. What do you have free today and tomorrow? Or, maybe I should put it this way: what can you free up?”

Emma replied, “If you need me, I’m there for you.”

“Thank you. I know that. There’s someone I need you to meet, but at the moment I’m not sure when. Is that okay? Would you be able to come over at basically a moment’s notice? I wouldn’t ask, but this is extremely important.”

“Yeah, I think I can do that. Tad can watch the boys today. Tomorrow, it would depend on the time. I’m at the practice seeing patients while the boys are in preschool. If you call later, I might have to bring Johnny and Teddy. Would that be a problem?”

“We’ll work it out. You know I always love to see my grandsons.” Emma’s curiosity came out, and she asked whom she needed to meet. Marlena succeeded in sidestepping the query. They said goodbye, and Marlena felt satisfied with that conversation.

She played back memories of Emma’s boys. Seeing them for the first time in the hospital nursery. Helping them learn to take their first steps. Reading their baby books to them over and over. Swinging them at the park. Watching them play with their mutt rescue dog, Cody — also the dog in her watercolor. The Rivliks lived in a suburban house only a few blocks from Marlena and Roman’s old homestead. Tad, an engineer for the city, had grown up in Salem too, and both he and Emma revelled in raising their family here.

Now, she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. She was too keyed up to read. She couldn’t check her snail mail because it lay downstairs. She’d already unpacked. She thought about taking a long warm bath to relax, but nixed that idea because first of all, she worried she might fall asleep in the tub, and secondly, one of the men might come up looking for her. She could lie down and take a nap, but after that nightmare in Dinah’s Garden Hotel, she didn’t relish a possible repeat.

She remembered about the fires in Southern California, and called Carrie to get an update.

“I’m back home, Marlena,” Carrie said. “The Saddleridge fire is prompting some evacuations. Not us, but both Austin and I have decided we can’t come to Salem right now. But I’m still shooting for the birthday party planned for Friday. I hope I can make it. Austin said he’s staying here in case he has to evacuate things from our condo. How’s it going with John?”

Marlena told her about Brady and John, and that he would also see Emma very soon.

They talked for some time. When she said goodbye to Carrie, she finally decided to relax in the chaise and listen to one of her favorite playlists on her phone. She did close her eyes…and the next thing she knew she heard a knocking sound. Pulling the earbuds out, she listened again. Yes, a definite knock on her door which wasn’t completely closed.

“Yes?”

Brady pushed the door farther open and smiled at her. “Hope I didn’t wake you?”

“I guess I did doze off,” Marlena admitted. “Not much chance to sleep soundly with the plane and car trips last night.” She got up and went to Brady, and putting her hand on his arm, she asked, “How’s it going?”

Brady’s face split into a wide grin. “It’s great! Really great. I thank God, and I thank you, for bringing him here. So many times in my life, I’ve longed to have a real talk with my dad. And today that wish finally came true.”

Marlena beamed at him. “So what are you doing up here instead of downstairs with him?”

Brady looked a little crestfallen. “I’m afraid I’ve got to go — at least for a while. I lost all track of time talking to Dad and forgot I promised Audrey I’d be over and help her move this afternoon.” As he was speaking, he and Marlena walked back down to the second floor. John got up from the table as they appeared.

Brady continued looking from one of them to the other, “I’d really like to cancel, but if I don’t go, Audrey won’t be able to make the move with just Gary. I already made my apologies to Dad, and now I just wanted to let you know that I need to go. I was supposed to be there at 1. I’m twenty minutes late. She’s already left me a couple voicemails and texts.”

John spoke up, “You go do what you need to, son. I promise I won’t disappear on you again.”

Marlena agreed, “Brady, you come back whenever you want — today, tomorrow, whenever. Just text or call me — or John….did you two exchange numbers?”

They had done that. Brady and John shared another hefty and emotional embrace, Brady hugged Marlena too, and it was then that she reminded him to please not tell anyone about John yet. Brady agreed, and then he took the stairs down in big bounds. Both John and Marlena went to the living room windows and waved to him as he popped the Mazda 3 locks. He waved back and was gone.

“Hope he doesn’t get a ticket,” John said.

Marlena laughed.

“What?” John inquired.

“Nothing. It’s just.. you men can say the most ordinary things at monumental times.”

“Hmph.” After a moment, he added softly, “There’s just a lot to process.”

She grew serious again. “Of course, John. You’ve had a tremendous amount thrown at you in less than a week. It will take time.” She headed for the kitchen. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

“I’m good right now. While Brady and I were talking, we ate a few of the big oatmeal cookies in your jar and drank some more coffee.”

“Oh, dear. Those cookies had to have been stale. I do need to go to the store and get some fresh veggies and fruit.” Marlena jotted down a list, asking him too what he’d like. …”Are you still an apple eater, John?”

“Yeah,” he smiled, “as a matter of fact, I am. I ate them a lot when I lived in Salem?”

With a mischievous twerp of her eyebrows, she told him, “One time we were in the living room and — the kids were not around — I was in my pink satiny bathrobe and you were shirtless. You had a big red apple in your hand. I don’t recall the buildup conversation, if there was any, but you took a huge bite out of that apple. Chewing a couple times, you looked at me with hunger and said, “You’re next!” Then you slung me over your shoulder and, with me laughing wildly, you took the stairs — maybe two at a time — and we ended up making passionate love in our bed.”

“Glad to know I was a smart man of action,” John grinned, clearly savoring that story.” He then said seriously, “Look, I know I’ve been a little standoffish, and I’m sorry for –”

“You have nothing to apologize for,” she interrupted, coming to him. She urged him to sit back down with her at the table. “As we’ve just said, you’ve had a lot thrown at you. I can only imagine trying to assimilate all that. When Emma came to us, I had a little taste of being blown away with a surprise I’d never expected, but you’ve had so much more. You have every right to take your time and let it all sink in. Plus,” she said calmly, even though she felt a stab to her heart when articulating it out loud, “I know your memory loss has robbed you of the feelings — the love — you had for me.”

“Marlena –”

“No, it’s true, and there’s no point in pretending it isn’t. Dear God, John, when I saw you in that waiting room, the emotions and the memories that poured through me were nearly unbearable. I desperately wanted to run to you and throw my arms around you and kiss you endlessly. And I wanted you to embrace me with the same loving care and strength you did so many years ago, and kiss me the way only you did.

“I remember countless details of our time together, brief though it was. I loved you so. You ARE, I am certain of it, my soulmate, the great love of my life. And I don’t mean to be disloyal to Roman — as I’ve said, I loved him very much. But you and I were something incredibly special together. I loved you when we didn’t know who you were, when we thought you were Stefano, when we thought we had proof you were Roman, and when we got DNA proof you weren’t. You became an irrevocable part of my heart — the heart of my heart.

“All these years, I’ve missed you. With my rational mind, I did agree with others that you had to be dead, because you had disappeared so completely. And, yet, a tiny voice inside kept alive the belief that if you had truly died, I would have felt it, and I never did.

“But that’s me, John. That’s my experience. Yours is so different. Part of me is angry because I can’t quite fathom how that everlasting love you also had for me could be extinguished. But memories are our lifeline to ourselves. To. Our. “Selves.” Without them, we have to start over from square one. That’s what you’re doing, and I have to let you do that.”

Marlena couldn’t stop talking. She felt a compulsion to explain the human condition.

“I keep thinking that no matter what kind of tricks our memories play on us, we are still human persons with natural dignity. Your friend Joe, ‘Kittens’ as you affectionately call him: he and others like him all possess an inviolable personhood too, but their withdrawal from the world (in catatonia and other extreme conditions) drastically limits their ability to experience and wield the complete range of their personhood. Thank God, Joe has come out again.

“Amnesia also limits personhood — our rights to fully be who we are. It is often so misleading to the sufferers of it, because they don’t know what they’re missing. Some people might say, ‘Oh, that can be a blessing too if they have forgotten terrible things.’ I suppose one could make that argument with Joe Catenacci. And with you, John, I suppose one could make that argument too in some respects, because you were undoubtedly treated unspeakably when you were a captive in 2002.”

John broke in there, “Well, as I said, I do now recall being Stefano DiMera’s prisoner in 1985. So, I guess, my memory forgot to delete that delightful experience.” He gave a rueful snort. “And, as I told you, I know a little about what happened to me in 2001-2002 at the hands of Stefano’s bastard son.”

“Yes, I am so sorry you suffered at the hands of those evil men.” Marlena held his hand and squeezed it in sympathy.

She continued with her train of thought though, “But if we forget (whether by ‘choice’ or by duress and force), we do lose the vital component of being able to relate to others as we did before, at least in the case where the intimacy of lovers is concerned. And that’s why I pray with all my heart that you will remember everything, but, honestly, me in particular.

“Seeing you with Carrie, and today, with Brady, I realized something else. You will be able to love all the kids again with as much — or nearly as much — depth and generosity of spirit as you did before whether you regain your memory or not. That love — for one’s own offspring and for adopted children too — somehow is transcending your memory block.

“But romantic love is unique. It sparks between two people as they live through something together that no one else shares. The right circumstances, the right time in their lives, etc. We like to think that two people who are really in love can always overcome anything and that love will still be there. But not always.

“What I’m clumsily, badly, trying to clutch at is that you don’t owe me any apology. Maybe it is I who owe you one because I’ve been pretty forward with my feelings, and all I’m probably doing is causing you to want to withdraw more.”

Having said her piece, unsatisfactorily, she thought, she wondered what he thought of that gush of words. He had not taken his gaze off her while she spoke, and now he still met her eyes levelly.

“Contrary to common belief, lightning can and does strike twice (or more) in virtually the same place. Perhaps that’s what we have to hope and pray for, Marlena. If we fell in love once, why not again? Especially since this time around it is only I who have not yet been hit by the bolt.”

“Back in 1986, you said a number of times that the first time you met me, something inside told you I was the one. And I felt that way too. This time, though, you haven’t felt that.”

John shifted and raised his eyebrows. “When did I first tell you that back in 1986?”

“Gosh, I don’t know exactly. It was probably after we came back from West Virginia and ‘knew’ you were Roman. I think it was the second time we made love, thinking we were married. A couple of months…”

“And how long have we known each other in 2019?”

“Five days,” she admitted. “Okay, I get your point.”

“Things are moving very fast. You’re so right that it’s a lot for me to take in. My head is swirling with so many revelations. And, of course, today, seeing my son for the first time since he was a baby was more awesome than I can ever express.”

Marlena again squeezed the hand she still held. “I’m so happy for you, John. And for Brady too. It’s a dream come true for him.”

John got misty-eyed, and he took off his glasses and wiped away the moisture. When he wore the spectacles again he said huskily, “Thank you with all my heart — you and Roman — for raising Brady. Thank you both so much for being his loving parents when I and his birth mother couldn’t. You did a wonderful job with him, and he obviously loves you very dearly as the mom he’s always known.”

“Oh, John, no thanks are needed. I love Brady just as much as I love all my other children. And Roman loved him too. Now, though, you have the chance to get to know and love him yourself.”

“That would never have happened without you. If you hadn’t stopped in the hospital and checked me out.” He smiled a little slyly. “I did notice you doing that as you hugged the wall as much as possible, slowly heading for the abandoned check-in desk. Once there, you didn’t ring their little bell for service. You stood, trying to figure out what to do next. You kept your eyes on me and your face was ghost pale. I had no idea what was going on with you.”

Marlena huffed and rolled her eyes. “Glad I was so inconspicuous.”

John grinned, obviously pleased to get a bit of a rise out of her. But he returned to his point. “I’m so grateful for your showing up there and finally sitting down to talk to me. You have been the ‘mover and shaker’ in all this.

“And I do understand that you’re frustrated by my lack of reciprocation of your feelings. You have every right. When I asked how many days we’ve known each other in 2019, I was deflecting, I admit. I didn’t want to face your worries head on. Still don’t really, I guess,” he confessed. “You meant that in 1986, both of us felt something right away. It just took a while for both of us to say so. And that’s different now. If, right this minute, I felt what you feel, I could say so — just as you did. You probably reason that since I’ve held back and haven’t admitted to such an initial feeling that I didn’t have it.”

“Yes, that’s right, John.” Hearing him articulate this caused her pain, but she tried to hide it from him.

“I take it I was a pretty confused guy when I first came to Salem, wasn’t I?”

“You were. You put up a front that everything was just fine, and that worked with people who just dealt with you on a run-of-the-mill basis. But I gradually saw the cracks. You tried to pretend you knew your past, but you avoided the subject if you could. And when you couldn’t, you didn’t have a script for all occasions and questions. One minute you appeared confident and calmly in control, the next you got nervous and made hasty exits with lame excuses. One minute you’d be relaxed and joking. But if I said the ‘wrong’ thing, you would clam up or snap at me. When you finally admitted you didn’t know who you were, you showed me how terrified you were of that.

“And later, when we thought your identity had been established as Roman, you had moments when your frustration at your persisting memory block made you act out physically. At least once, you scared Carrie who walked into the front room just as you threw something at the wall. She wasn’t hurt at all, but she was frightened of you for a while.”

“I’m really sorry I scared her. I’ll definitely do my best not to throw anything this time around.” He smiled, trying to lighten the mood. “But thanks for telling me about my mental condition then. In a way, it’s good to know I was a mess then too.”

John’s tone hardened, “The truth is, Stefano’s brainwashing made me a blank slate on which the life of Roman Brady could easily be imprinted. I’ve got to tell you, that’s not exactly an ego-booster for a guy like me. Stefano used me to become an imposter in your and the Bradys’ lives, and I didn’t — couldn’t — stop it.”

“But that wasn’t your fault. I’m sure you resisted to the max. As a man who’s been in covert service for most of your life, you know better than I that modern torture techniques can overcome the will of anyone.

“Besides, I insist that, despite the evil intentions of Stefano, love came from it. Our love. Our daughter. And the love you had for the Brady family and they all had for you. I’m sure Stefano didn’t expect that.

“You mentioned being grateful that Roman and I raised Brady, but, again, John, I’m just as grateful to you because Carrie, Sami, and Eric had a loving father in you those years Roman and I couldn’t come home.”

John nodded a few times slowly. “Okay, I see your point. I guess the point I kind of veered away from is you’ve helped me understand a little better that I didn’t handle my amnesiac state well at first in 1986.

“In the present, the same. For decades my life had gone along a certain trajectory. And I’d become accustomed to the blank years. I’d gotten used to being without family. Then, out of the blue, a beautiful, loving woman walks into that life and tells me about a very busy chunk of it I haven’t reckoned with.”

“I know, John.”

“I’ll be honest. I didn’t feel I’d met my soulmate again that day in Physical Therapy. Fireworks didn’t explode in my mind. In that sense, I guess you’re right that my reunion with you didn’t mimic the first time we met.”

Even though she appreciated his candor, she also didn’t. His words confirmed her worst fears: John had lost the love he’d once felt so completely for her. Her face fell.

“I’m sorry. Too much bluntness there. I know you’d give anything if I could say different.”

“It is what it is, right? We have to work with the truth, not with a fairy tale.”

“Even though I didn’t relate to you as someone I’d known or as someone I felt in my marrow lost memories be damned, that first time you spoke to me, I thought ‘what a gorgeous woman.’ And in the five days I’ve known you, Marlena, as you’ve told me about yourself, your family, and me; my feelings for you have vastly expanded. I’m getting to know you — the strong, capable, determined woman you are. And as I said before, I’m nearsighted, not blind. I see and sense at least a part of the depth of feeling you have for me.

“As you obviously are aware, I am a physically passionate man. Due to my work, I haven’t had the opportunities to allow that side of myself to have full rein in the last twenty-five years. Perhaps it will be possible with you again. Who knows, maybe a couple of months’ wait will be the charm for us once more…”

Marlena knew she could not wave a magic wand so John would remember and love her as she loved him. Then she wondered if she had turned their love into an icon that resembled what they’d truly had, but idealized it and magnified it. Sometimes loving someone thought dead became easier than being with and loving a live person.

She showed him the charm bracelet on her arm. “You gave me this at Christmas in ‘92. And I gave you a watch. On the back of it, I had engraved ‘J, thanks for giving me time, M.’ That’s what I have to do for you now, John. Give you time to adjust, to reconnect with people, to see where you fit in now.”

John regarded her with a kindly expression. “Thank you,” he said simply.

Then he looked more closely at the charm bracelet. First he said, “That needs some more charms.” Then he added, “Should I have given that to you? Didn’t Roman get upset about it?”

“I didn’t tell him about it. I put it in my jewelry box, so I wasn’t hiding it. But he never looked in that box, so we avoided ever having a conversation about it. “

“I see.” John nodded. “I understand.”

They were both silent. But John broke that silence, “Weren’t you hungry? Eat something.”

They both laughed.

Marlena heard her phone. A text. She snapped the cell off the counter and read it. “Oh, my gosh!”

“What?”

“Emma texted me three times. She asked if she could come over because she’s curious about who I want her to meet.” Marlena couldn’t help chuckling at the third one, which Emma’d sent about 20 minutes ago. She read it aloud, “I’ll bring you groceries if the coast is clear, and I can come.”

John smiled as he walked around to exercise his leg. He stretched too. “Hmm. She’s a practitioner of bribery, eh? If it’s okay with you, let her come.”

“You sure? We could put her off until tomorrow. After all, Brady might come back again, you know.”

“Yeah, he might, but it’s about 3 now. He’s probably still helping move.”

Marlena texted their daughter, “Sorry for the delay. Yes, come on over. Groceries not necessary, but if you’ve already bought them…”

Marlena was hungry so she downed a granola bar and drank a bottle of water. John ate a few saltine crackers spread with peanut butter and found a soda in the fridge.

A few minutes later, Marlena’s phone chirred with Emma’s reply. “On my way.”

John had gone into the living room and he stood in front of the bookshelf examining the titles. Marlena joined him and noted, “Some of these books belong to you. They’d been stored in the house’s attic, and I brought them with me.”

He thumbed a few, trying to pick out which ones he’d owned. Marlena smiled. “Yes, the ones on this shelf are nearly all yours.”

“I don’t remember ‘em. Maybe I’ll read them again and see if they are still books I’d buy.”

He then turned his attention to the photos in the curio cabinet. He took one out, and Marlena viewed it with him.

“That was taken five years ago. I took that photo. Roman had to leave right after the ceremony on a police emergency, so he missed this moment.” Marlena explained the background of the picture to John. In it, all five of Marlena’s children gathered together. They’d come to celebrate Brady’s graduation from college. Emma, only three years younger than Eric and Sami, stood proudly next to her little brother. Although Brady, not surprisingly, stood inches taller than she did. Emma, born of two tall people, had topped at 5’ 8” like her mother. Unlike Sami’s tresses, at least as blonde as Marlena’s, Emma’s hair tinted in the browns. A lighter shade of chestnut than John’s, and she wore it in a nicely layered, fairly short style as a pediatrics’ resident.

“What color are her eyes? John asked.

“Deep blue like yours.”

“Her beautiful face is very like yours. If she had blonde hair and your hazel eyes, the resemblance would be striking,” John noted, holding the photo to the window’s light to see the details better.

‘Yes, a lot of people who see us together say that,” agreed Marlena.

John also perused Eric and Samantha’s images. Eric wore a black suit and his Roman collar. Marlena said he looked uncannily like the actor who plays Dean Winchester on the TV show “Supernatural.”

“I haven’t seen that show.”

“I haven’t either, but I surfed the internet for a picture of the man, and yes, Eric and he could be twins.”

“Hah. Then you’d have had triplets,” John joked before adding, “Eric is a really handsome young man.”

“Thank you. Sometimes that can be difficult for priests. But he seems to deal ably with the parishioners.”

The shortest of the five, Sami sported the longest hair of them all. She also possessed piercing blue eyes but much lighter in hue (“swimming pool blue” Marlena offered), clearly revealed by the picture. Sami’s face had grown a little fuller than the others’. “Sami is beautiful too, but what people often notice most about her is her strong-mindedness and her determination to attain what she wants” Marlena said. “I think that can be seen in this photo.”

John replied, “She seems formidable, and, yes, beautiful too.” Returning the photo to its place, he asked, “Has she brought her children to visit you in Salem, or do you need to go to them when you want to see them?”

“She’s brought them here once so far. For Roman’s funeral last year. The children didn’t go to the funeral, but I was so glad to have them around. They provided their grandmother with a chance for some relief and even enjoyment with them.”

Marlena heard a car out front. Yes, it was Emma’s distinctive Jasper Green Subaru Forester. She hurried downstairs to let her in, leaving a once-again nervous John.

Emma had brought two bags of groceries, so after they greeted each other, each took a sack.

When they were inside at the bottom of the stairs, Emma said, “Is the mystery guest here, or do I have to wait for him or her to arrive?”

Marlena stopped her daughter. “No, you don’t need to wait. But just realize that you are in for a shock.”

Emma laughed, “Okay, Mom. I’ll brace myself.”

They ascended the stairs and Emma looked around the second floor space, but saw no one. Putting her bag on the island she looked quizzically at Marlena.

Just then someone descended from the third floor. Both Marlena and Emma watched as his face came into view. John smiled a little uncomfortably as he came toward Emma.

Emma froze. Absolutely froze. Spotting her paralysis, Marlena immediately put her arm around her. “Yes, Emma. He’s your father. You’re not seeing things. It’s your daddy.”

Just like that, Emma came back to life. She sprang forward and launched herself into John’s arms. Fortunately he strategically stood with his back to the wall so there was no chance that he might stumble backward. He tightened his arms around her and held her close to his heart. Emma began blubbering, and that made John (and Marlena) cry too.

“Dad!” she said barely coherently. She hadn’t seen John in eighteen years.

Later…

After dinner, Marlena marveled for the umpteenth time that she sat here with two of her beloved children and their father. For the first time ever.

Brady gave John a speculative look. “I guess it’s too early to ask you if you have any plans based on everything you’ve learned?”

Marlena and John exchanged glances, and both chuckled. “Your mom and I were talking earlier about it only having been five days since she found me in Palo Alto. So, you’re right, Brady. I’m still at the stage where I’m learning new things, and I haven’t given a lot of thought to the future yet.”

He turned to his daughter, “New things…such as everything you told me. Never in a million years would I have guessed any of that, and I haven’t had any dreams or flashbacks of that time either.

“But I can sure say this. I definitely want to get to know you both better — and Carrie, Eric, and Sami, too. And I can’t wait to meet those twins of yours, Emma.”

“They’ll be thrilled to have another grandpa.” she said excitedly.

Marlena felt a touch of sadness. Roman had doted on Johnny and Teddy. Trying to explain to them why ‘Poppi” didn’t come play with them anymore had intensified her own loss of him.

Speaking to John, Marlena said, “You are now the proud ‘owner’ of the major family ‘surprises,’ John. I’m sorry they got doled out piecemeal, but I couldn’t think of any other way. There’s just so much. Plus, of course, your relating your own incredible story. You’ll end up retelling that quite a few more times, I’m sure.”

“I’m sure too,” John echoed. “This is tentative, but I will probably go back to California when your mother does. I have to finish up with getting my brace fully adjusted and making sure I’m using it properly. Then I can hang up my cane for good, I hope.”

“You’ve been doing really well, John. Sometimes you don’t use the cane at all. I think you just forget about it.”

“Thanks.” He smiled. “As to longer future plans, everything’s up in the air.” Looking at Marlena again he added, “If you want to see it, I can show you that place I own in the Santa Rosa hills.”

“I’d love to,” Marlena assured him.

“You have a house there?” Emma asked.

“Yeah. It’s a small cottage-style house with two bedrooms and bathrooms. Has a wrap-around outdoor porch and a small side enclosed porch too. I furnished it, and someone I trust has been living there to keep an eye on it.

Brady’s financial side surfaced as he said, “Real estate in California is through the roof. You’re probably sitting on a tidy sum there, especially if you’ve paid off the mortgage.”

John winked at Brady, “I bought it with an inheritance, so, yeah, no mortgage.” He sobered. “I count my blessings. The 2017 Tubbs fire sheared within 100 yards of the back of my property. But I was in the hospital in D.C. and helpless to do anything. The fellow living there was forced to evacuate, but when he was allowed back, the house still stood.”

Emma asked, “Do you have pictures of your mom and dad? When we were together, you didn’t remember them. I’d like to know more about them and see what they looked like.”

“I’ve got a couple old photo albums my mother assembled. It contains pictures of us, but also of most of my grandparents and even a few great-grandparents. They’re stored at the Santa Rosa house — another reason to be thankful the house didn’t burn.”

They talked comfortably for another ten minutes, but Marlena saw the exhaustion in John’s face. She’d stolen a nap in the morning, but John had had no rest, and the two reunions with his children had taken a tremendous surge of energy. So, she spoke up, “I’m sorry to break this up, but what with the red-eye flight and the drive from Chicago here, I think both John and I need a good night’s sleep now.”

John beamed at his offspring. “It’s been a wonderful day, but, yeah, a long one. I can’t even begin to tell you two how bursting with joy I am today.”

They all got up, and John hugged Emma mightily and kissed her cheek and then her other one. “My daughter,” he said huskily.

“Daddy,” she said, kissing his cheek too.

Then he turned to Brady and hugged him too. “My son.” Everyone’s eyes were getting misted again.

Brady swallowed and said, “Welcome back, Dad. This will always be one of the greatest days of my life because you came back.”

Once the younger generation had departed, John settled a long look on Marlena. “It’s you who deserves all the accolades for making this day happen.” He pulled her gently into his arms and held her for a long time. Then his hands framed her face and he raised it so he could kiss her lips.

Even though this was their second kiss, Marlena felt desire more this time, and she wanted to really taste him. She opened and so did he, and they explored. Being so close to him, she felt the desire in him as well. But she also knew he was bone-weary, and she shouldn’t allow this to go any further tonight. She broke the kiss and stepped back out of his arms.

“That was wonderful, but I’m going to take a page from your book of caution now. We’ve both had a very full and exciting day. I think we need sleep the most right now.”

John’s azure eyes seemed to bore directly into her soul. He bowed his head slightly. “As usual, you’re right, Doc.”

Monday

Waking in her own bed — by herself — Marlena stretched and looked at the clock. 7:19. Definitely ahead of when she usually woke on her own. But the last few days had hardly been routine ones, so perhaps excitement primed her to start the day early.

Languidly, she reviewed the momentous events of yesterday. She had purposely missed the great part of John and Brady’s reunion, but she had not excused herself while Emma related her lengthy story of their nine years together. Of course, Marlena already knew it; Emma told Roman and her when she came to them. But she wanted to be there when John heard it. She had hoped it might spur some memory from him. But it hadn’t.

Of course Emma had to be told how Marlena stumbled upon John, and also about his own backstory. But she, in turn, had a great deal to tell him…

“You found me after Christmas but before New Year’s Eve, 1992. I’m not sure of the exact date. At five years old, the finer points of the calendar still escaped me then. But I do know it was my mama I thought would come for me” — Emma looked at Marlena. “I had a few memories of her, although it scared me because they had begun to fade away. I barely remembered the other island we’d lived on together. I’d been taken to this one after two men — one I knew and one I didn’t — apparently decided my fate on the previous island. The one I’d known Mom called Orpheus. She never told me the other one’s name because she had been separated from me by then. But it was the other one who took me away to the new island, and he told me to call him Uncle Stefano. ”

“Stefano? Stefano DiMera?” John’s voice began rising.

Marlen broke in, “Yes. But please try not to get upset. Just listen.”

“Where were you?” John asked Emma, not paying too much attention to Marlena’s attempt to calm him.

“I was taken to a Mediterranean island, one of thousands. I didn’t know where it was when we arrived, but learned later: somewhere between Italy and Greece. Uninhabited except for a few houses and utility buildings, probably constructed by Stefano’s men. One small fishing boat sat on blocks on shore most of the time, but occasionally men there dragged the boat, called NOEMI, into the clear waters and brought in a modest catch.

Everything manmade was camouflaged so nothing could be seen from the air (or spy satellites or what have you), or, I guess, from any boats that might have passed by. If I remember correctly, Stefano flew us in a private plane to an airport, maybe on the mainland. From there he had a boat — not the little NOEMI — piloted by his own men, take us to the island where you found me. There were a couple other children there because their parents worked for Stefano as servants, etc. I had a room and a lady who took care of me. I didn’t see Stefano DiMera much, but he was on the island a lot during that time before you arrived.”

“So you weren’t hurt or afraid?” John asked.

“I missed Mom. I wanted her so badly, but the woman just told me she couldn’t come, and I’d have to get used to that.”

Before John could ask more questions, Emma hurried on with her story, “One night, I was in bed asleep when the woman — her name was Signora Lucia — woke me, bundled me in the blanket and took me out of the house to a small cellar. She and I waited there. But I fell asleep again, so I don’t know how long we stayed there.

“But I do remember when the cellar door was forced open from outside and a man I didn’t know stood looking at us. He had a gun in his hand, and for a moment I was terrified, and I think I let out a shriek. He immediately tucked the pistol behind him and told me, in English and Italian, that it was okay and he wasn’t going to hurt me. He commanded Signora Lucia to come out with me. She did, also looking frightened. I stood there in my nightgown, wrapped in my blanket. The man let Lucia run away, and then he got down on a knee and looked me in the eyes. ‘What’s your name, sweetheart?’

“I told him. He then pulled a picture of you, Mom, out of his shirt pocket and showed it to me. ‘Do you know her?’ he asked. I got all excited, ‘That’s Mama!’ I told him in Italian. ‘Where is she?’

“ ‘I’m going to take you to her,’ he promised.”

Emma looked at John. “And, of course, that was you.”

“Later you told me that you had gotten information from a former ISA agent about Stefano’s whereabouts and, specifically about rumors that he was holding a little girl who might be Marlena’s daughter. The agent didn’t want you to tell anyone because he couldn’t completely corroborate the leads he’d been given, and he was afraid of leaks too. He told you he and a few other men, who had personal and professional reasons for wanting to be in on capturing Stefano DiMera, were going to raid the island. They deliberately didn’t inform the Italian or Greek authorities or any US government agencies. Too many involved could cause information leaks that might allow Stefano to get away. Apparently he had gotten away many times before.

“At first, you told me later, the raid was successful. Stefano and all his people on the island were rounded up when your boat landed under cover of night. But while you were with me further inland, more of Stefano’s men arrived. Either he sent out an SOS or there had been a leak about the raid anyway. They were able to overpower the former ISA man and his raiders.Then, though, Stefano apparently decided to abandon the island, fearing others would be following to arrest him if this group didn’t come back with him. And I never saw Stefano DiMera again.”

“He never came back? He just forgot you were there?” John asked incredulously.

Marlena interjected again, “I don’t think he forgot she was there. And he might have known you were there, although we never could prove it. But here’s what happened after he fled that island: He surreptitiously returned to Salem in 1993. And he tried to kidnap me. He may have wanted to take me to another of his hideouts, and then, when the coast was clear, go back to the island and bring Emma to me. He apparently had developed an obsession for me, and wanted me for himself. But Roman foiled his kidnapping plan. A shootout erupted at the private airport where Stefano had taken me. Roman killed him. That was kept under wraps though because the ISA and other law enforcement agencies wanted to protect Roman and our family from any retaliation for the death.”

John chewed on that. “So that was when and why DiMera’s worldwide crime organization came under different management. Raffaelle took advantage of his death and became an even more ruthless godfather than Stefano had ever been. Even though Raffaelle probably rejoiced at the demise of his father, if he had known the identity of the officer who’d shot him, he would have sought retribution. You’re right.”

He returned his attention to Emma. “Go on,” he urged her.

“You didn’t let me see, but later I found out that several of the men who’d come with you had been killed and lay in the compound. You did what you could for one who hung onto life. But he died too within hours. You never heard anything from any of the others, whom you thought had been taken as prisoners onto Stefano’s escaping boats. You later admitted they had probably been thrown overboard out at sea. And there were no boats left that you could take to get us to safety. The little fishing boat had no motor, and you wouldn’t risk my life attempting an extended voyage. All communications equipment had either been taken or destroyed. For about a month, we were on the island alone. You had begun to build a bigger boat.

“But then some people returned who’d staffed the island for Stefano. Lucia didn’t though. And although they didn’t harm you or me, they said they couldn’t allow us to leave. They said if they allowed that, their lives would be forfeit if and when Stefano returned. They were also deathly afraid of someone else, but they didn’t utter his name at that point — that must have been Raffaelle, Dad.”

John nodded agreement.

“They locked up all the weapons. They wouldn’t allow you to build anything. At night they locked you up and guarded you so you couldn’t escape while they were sleeping. But, during the daylight hours, they would let us be together as long as we were in sight of whoever was tasked with watching us.”

Emma looked at her father with love. “Honestly, that was a good time for me in many ways. I got to know my father. At first, I was shy and didn’t really know how to act around you. But I could see in your eyes and in everything you did that you loved me. That you had come here to rescue me, and that you felt even more frustrated than I that we were stuck there. You told me about my little brother, Brady. And you told me more about my mother and about so many others in Salem.

“You taught me so much too. You taught me about the natural world. We went for walks and you’d point out all the flora and fauna. You taught me how to fish — always from shore though. We had a bird list, Every time we saw a new one we’d add it, even though we didn’t always know their names. Stefano’s library didn’t include ornithology books. His library did have a chess set which you almost destroyed the first time you went in there. But later you were glad you’d restrained yourself because you taught me how to play. You also saw to it that I learned how to read — both English and Italian. Every weekday you set hours for “schooling” so I could also learn to write. We drilled basic math. I remember doing the times tables so often I started dreaming about them! You told me about the larger world, you explained about how important it is to respect other human beings. You taught me about God. And you played with me. The two other kids came back, so I played with them too. You taught us all how to play a modified version of baseball, and sometimes other adults on the island would join in too. It was, as I said, a time I’ll always cherish.”

“As the years went on, Stefano never came back, although we didn’t know why. Rumors cropped up among his people that he had died. Then, it became known that someone else had taken Stefano’s place as ‘godfather.’ They started saying his name. They pronounced his name with cold dread: Raffaelle Estanza. But if Raffaelle knew about our island, he never set foot on it. And no one else came who wanted anything of us. The supply boats — which were always so carefully guarded that you could never seize control — began to come less often, and pretty soon the number of people besides us on the little island had been whittled to just three. The other children and their parents left.

“I became a teenager there, and you had to help me navigate the ‘becoming a woman’ thing because the other three with us were all men. I felt awkward and you did too about that talk. Also, since I was no longer a child, you shielded me more from those other men. You made sure they didn’t ever get me alone. At the time, I didn’t recognize the potential danger, and you didn’t scare me by articulating exactly what could happen. But you were constantly on guard.

And, although you had stopped talking about Brady, I sensed the deep wound in you because of your separation from him. You burned with the need to get back to Salem and your son. You also desperately wanted to bring me to my mother.”

Emma sighed. “It hurt me too — so much — that you hurt, Dad.”

John smiled wistfully at her. But he didn’t speak, perhaps too inundated by this hidden history.

“Finally, just after I turned fourteen, you made a huge, extremely risky move. You succeeded in commandeering the supply boat that arrived. A whole year had passed since the last boat, and we’d subsisted for months on caught fish, vegetables we grew, and other edibles of the island. It seemed as if Raffaelle had pretty much written us off for the last few years.

“Anyway, you planned this seizure in the minutest detail, and you succeeded. You left the crew and the three others behind on the island, making sure they couldn’t contact anyone. You’d made certain in advance we’d have sufficient gasoline, food, and life jackets. We chugged away from the island we’d been stuck on for nine years. In those intervening years, you’d been able to find nautical charts and had determined where we were. You secretly showed me how to use the stars to plot courses too. Even though we couldn’t be outside at night, sometimes they’d let me be in your room for a while and you’d teach me astronomy through the window. All this prepared us for the journey.

“We made it to an uninhabited stretch of the Italian coastline. We gathered our few belongings, and you set the boat on a course back out to sea and fixed it so it would automatically run that course until it ran out of fuel. You sought to keep any pursuers off our trail.

“You and I could both speak a reasonable amount of Italian. We’d practiced with the native speakers on the island, and our accents were quite good. But you didn’t have any identification papers at all. I had none either, of course. We had only a few lire which you had taken from the supply boat crew. We walked and hitchhiked to the nearest village, which turned out to be Crotone. You got to a phone and called — collect — a European ISA contact number you remembered –”

“Who did I call?”

“Uh. You talked to someone named Frank. You didn’t say his last name. He was a U.S. government foreign agent covering the station you’d called.

“Anyway, You knew this Frank. He promised to come immediately and meet us. But it would take time because he had to travel from Rome. You were nervous. You didn’t want to stay in Crotone. You worried that Raffaelle would send men after us.

“You told Frank that you had learned some vital information and needed to get back to the States as quickly as possible. That surprised me. You hadn’t mentioned anything like that to me. Once you ended the conversation with him, I quietly asked you about that. ‘Later,’ you said.

“Even though I always knew you looked for every opportunity to escape the island during the nine years we were there, it was later — after I was reunited with Mom — that I looked back at the last few weeks we spent there and realized you intensified your determination to leave. As I said, you’d always burned to escape, but something had happened that made it an all-or-nothing attempt for you.”

John looked puzzled. “You still don’t know what that was?”

“No,” both Emma and Marlena said simultaneously.

Emma continued, “I guess Frank persuaded you to lay low in Crotone until he arrived. It would take him less than eight hours to drive the 600 kilometers.”

“Frank turned out to be a blond-haired man about your age. By then my growth spurt put me at about 5’ 6”, and he wasn’t much taller than I. Wiry, he ran over with frenetic energy.

“After eating a hurried meal, we started the trip to Naples, where Frank had already arranged for documents for you, Dad. Also, he said he’d make sure I could get into the U.S. when we landed there. All on the down low as you wanted, he assured you.”

“In Naples, we both got passports with pictures they took of us right there. Then, after you thanked Frank profusely and told him you owed him bigtime, we boarded a military plane. We flew to Washington D.C. I slept on the plane, and I assume you did too. When we deplaned there, we had no trouble when we showed our passports and declared virtually nothing. A man you never introduced to me came up to you. You asked me to wait for you in some seats, and you and the man moved away, and you spoke to him for a while. He listened. You talked. Finally, the man nodded, shook your hand, and rushed away. You returned. You didn’t explain about that meeting. You booked us on the next flight to Chicago. We only had to wait a couple hours, and in that time we ate again. My sense of time was really messed up, but apparently, when we arrived in Chicago, it was just after 5 a.m. local time.

“Ever since we’d left the island, you’d constantly been within eyesight, Dad. You were watching me, protecting me. For me, of course, our time in Italy, and then in D.C. and now in Chicago brought tons of new things to see and experience. My little world of the island had abruptly expanded incredibly. I felt deluged with new stimuli. I also thought, naively, that we were free. I didn’t see how anyone could be after us here. So, while you made arrangements for a rental car (apparently you’d gotten some money from the ISA), I slipped away from you. I spied a ladies room and decided I really had to use it right away.

“And that’s when it happened. As I was about to enter the bathroom, two men grabbed me. I think one of them chloroformed me, or maybe shoved a needle with something into my arm. I never could remember. The next thing I know I’m tied up and in what I later decided was a storage unit. At the time, I didn’t know because I’d never seen one. They fed me, gave me water, and there was a bucket in the corner to do my business. Mostly I lay on a blanket on the floor. I couldn’t tell how long I was there. Probably less than a day but it could have been longer. Then they came for me, and stuffed me in the trunk of a car and we drove. I had no idea where they were taking me, and my heart stuck in my throat with abject fear the entire ride. Finally, the car stopped. They roughly pulled me out of the trunk. It was dark. They untied me, and pointed me at a house across the street. ‘Go,’ they said. I said, ‘What about my dad? Where is he?’ One of them pointed up the street about 200 yards away to another auto that looked just like the one I’d been in. ‘He’s coming with us. You won’t see him again. Now, go. That’s your mother’s house.’ And he gave me a sharp shove toward it so I stumbled forward. I couldn’t see you, Dad. I’m not sure if you were in that car or not, But I thought maybe I could get help at that house if the man was telling the truth, or maybe even if he wasn’t.”

John cleared his throat. “Oh, damn it, Emma. I’m so sorry –”

Emma looked sheepish. In a small voice she said, “I never should have left your side in the airport. I acted so stupidly, and it cost so much.”

“I’m sure the kidnappers frightened you terribly, Emma. I’m so sorry you had to endure that.”

“As I said, it was my fault. I should have waited for you, and not cockily gone off on my own in Chicago. You were right to be so cautious, and you paid the far greater price because I didn’t pay attention to you. I’ve regretted that so many times.”

Marlena added, “We did find out that you had made a deal with the men. You gave yourself up when they let her walk to the door. If you hadn’t, the two with her would almost certainly have killed her.” Marlena glanced at Emma, “Sorry, honey, I hate saying that.”

“It’s true, Mom. I’m just not sure why they wanted to recover us — and especially you, Dad — so badly. “

“A good question that has multiple answers, I’ll bet. But the thing I want to focus on is that we had time together, Emma. It sounds as though, maybe there were some good times.”

“There were! I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t been there. I felt so lost without Mom, and, when I first met you, as I said, it took a while for me to warm up to you and love you. But I knew you loved me so much. You wanted to help me in every way you could. But I also knew you felt you had to get back to Salem because of Brady. As I said, you really suffered because you had left him, and you couldn’t return to him. And, you also wanted to get me back to Salem because you knew that Mom didn’t remember me. You told me a lot about her, and explained why she’d left and that she couldn’t remember me.” Looking at her mother, Emma quickly said, “Not because you didn’t want to. It just wasn’t your choice.”

“Oh, sweetie, that’s so true. I’d never have left you if I’d had a choice.” Marlena wanted to return to Brady. “John, Brady did have a hard time coming to terms with his father having left in order to be with another child. Even though rationally, he could comprehend and accept what happened, emotionally, he resented Emma when she came to us, but you weren’t with her.”


Emma agreed, “Brady is a wonderful brother, but, yes, over the years, that resentment has resurfaced a few times. He usually suppresses it, but if he gets into a particularly introspective mood — or if he has a little too much to drink — he may express his feelings. He’s envious of the time I had with you. Even though Brady did love Roman as his stepfather, when I came back to Salem and everyone here realized you’d been alive those nine years, Brady felt cheated. And as Mom said, he knew, when presented with the facts, that it wasn’t something that I or you, Dad, had intentionally inflicted on him. I told him repeatedly how unwaveringly you’d looked for every opportunity to escape the island. I told him he was upmost in your thoughts, and how guilty you felt that you were taking so long to return to him.”

John shifted uneasily. “The thing is, though, these last eighteen years, I haven’t done a blasted thing to get back. I never consciously gave him a thought. That’s hard for me to take.”

Marlena hastened to assuage his guilt. “You can’t blame yourself for that. And, really, you did everything you could to return, John. Brady does know that. And I don’t think he’ll blame you for the last eighteen years either.

“He seemed ecstatic to see you today,” she reminded him.

“Oh, I don’t doubt it. But once the newness wears off, he may reevaluate everything and still harbor resentment. And if he does, I can’t blame him. Because, regardless of the reasons, I wasn’t there for him,” John said gravely.

Then he fixed his eyes on Emma again. “But that is something I’ll have to work out with him. Right now, I just want to feast my eyes on my beautiful daughter. Hearing your voice, listening to you recount your memories of our nine years together are so precious to me. I’ll want to hear a lot more about that.

“And, honey, I’m so proud of you for following in your mother’s footsteps and becoming a physician. Plus having a family. No man could wish for more for his daughter.”

Emma laughed, a blush tinting her cheeks from the praise. “I didn’t follow all the way, of course, I chose another specialty. But,” she stole a quick look at Marlena and teased, “I think she’s forgiven me for that.”

Marlena pretended to disagree, “I don’t know. You’d make an excellent psychiatrist.” Then she laughed too. “I couldn’t be prouder of her either, John. She’s worked so diligently to attain her goals.”

“Mom, you know as well as I do, I didn’t adjust to living with all of you as easily as you and Roman hoped I would. I was secretive, didn’t make friends very well at all, and felt like an alien here. Living on a little island with a few people differed radically from life in Salem, USA. I had an Italian accent, so I felt out of place at school. It was a huge adjustment. And, as I said, it was my fault in a way that Dad didn’t make it back. Brady had a point….”

Marlena abruptly stopped reliving yesterday’s reunion between Emma and John. Emma had adjusted over time. Even her accent had faded to near nonexistence. It was John who had paid the price of not being able to come home.

Marlena sighed. Enough. It was time to get up and see what this day had to offer.

In the bathroom, after her shower, she critically observed her image in the still slightly fogged mirror. If her hairdresser hadn’t continued to add blondeness to her hair, she knew she would be just as gray as John. She’d had a few minor cosmetic procedures done to keep wrinkles to a minimum and to keep her skin smooth, not saggy. She kept in reasonable shape and hadn’t succumbed to the noticeable adding of pounds that some did at her age. Yes, her face and body still betrayed her years to a degree, but she admitted she looked pretty damn good. When she took her time and applied her makeup to render her features most attractive, she still received “those looks” from men — her own age and younger. She took the time to do that today, as she reminded herself John had called her “beautiful” a few times.

She dressed professionally because she intended to stop in at University Hospital. As Marlena descended the stairs, she smelled coffee. John sat sipping a cup and gnawing on a pastry Emma had brought yesterday.

“Good morning,” he greeted her.

“Good morning to you. How long have you been up?”

“About a half hour. Coffee’s hot and fresh still,” John added.

Pouring some, she asked him how he’d slept.

“Pretty good, thanks. The bed in your guest room is very comfortable. But everything that happened yesterday did keep me awake a while. Did you sleep well back in your own home again?”

“I did. I didn’t realize how much I missed it until I stretched out last night. But I also lay awake thinking.”

Small talk continued for a bit. Then John said, “You look even more beautiful today, Marlena.”

So, Marlena thought, he still notices everything, doesn’t he? Glad I took that extra time in front of the mirror. She thanked him for the compliment.

He added, “You also look like you’re going to work.”

“I just want to stop by and see Kayla Johnson. She’s the hospital chief of staff now, and I have to let her know about my promise to go back to the V.A. hospital next week.

“Did I know Kayla before?”

“You did. She is one of Roman’s sisters, and, when you were Roman, you were very close to all the Bradys. She is also married to Steve, aka Patch — because he lost an eye and wears a patch over one eye — Johnson. You were friends with him then too.

“Guess in due course, I’ll be meeting all these people. Maybe we should just tell them all to come together on a given day and time, and I can meet them all at once,” John said a little acidly.

Marlena smiled indulgently. “It’s true that you will probably have to endure quite a number of reunions with people who’ll be overjoyed to see you but who are strangers to you.”

“Yeah. With the kids it’s one thing, but these other folks I’m not so sure about.”

Fumbling for her cell phone, Marlena said, “Oh, no. That reminds me, we didn’t tell Emma to keep quiet about you. She isn’t exactly a sphinx. I’ll text her and warn her now not to tell Eric, Sami, or anyone else who doesn’t know yet.”

But barely had she pressed “send” when Emma texted back. “Oops. So sorry. Just spilled beans to Eric 2 mins ago. Won’t tell Sami tho.”

Marlena called her son without delay. Usually he celebrated daily Mass at this time of morning, but Mondays were his day off.

“Eric, hi.”

“Mom, Emma just told me –”

“Yes, it’s true. Emma thought you knew.”

“Mom, that’s a miracle!”

“It is,” she agreed, beaming at John.

Marlena drove John over to The Church of the Transfiguration in her car. The rectory stood across the parking lot from the church itself, and they spied Eric pacing around outside waiting for them. When they pulled up, he rushed to the passenger side, barely letting John emerge before Eric hugged him tightly. John grinned at him, slapping him on the back.

When they went inside and sat in the rectory’s living room, John repeated many of the things he’d already spoken of with Carrie, Brady, and Emma. What differed was what Brady told him. “Emma and you lived a completely different life. When you were in Salem, and Mom was gone, you were our dad, the only parent we knew because we were too young to properly remember her. You were a cop, and we lived in the suburbs. You saw Sami and me off to kindergarten, you took us to birthday parties at our friends’. You read to us at night. You took us to church on Sundays, and we saw Grandpa and Grandma Brady there. We’d go to Sunday dinner at their house quite regularly. The conversation was lively, especially when Uncle Bo and Aunt Hope were there too.

“You joked around with us a lot. Sami didn’t pick the most appropriate outfits when she got dressed, so you’d josh her into changing into clothes that the other kids wouldn’t jeer.

“Me, I was kind of slow getting up and starting the day. You’d have to come in a few times to prod me. You’d stick your head in the door when I was trying to catch a few more winks, and you’d give a shrill whistle and say loudly, ‘Hey, kid, did the bed eat you?’ Then you step up to the foot of the bed and tickle my feet through the blanket. I’d groan and giggle in spite of myself. ‘Okay, okay, I’m getting up.’ But when you disappeared, my incentive to get up waned, especially in Winter when the heater hadn’t kicked in yet. So, five minutes later, you were back. One of your favorite methods to roust me was to crash the cymbals you found up in the attic. ‘The circus train is leaving for your school in twenty minutes, and you need to be on it, buddy.’ Whether you drove the car pool or some other parent did, you always called our school ride ‘the circus train.’ I asked you why, and you said, ‘Because you kids are as entertaining as any circus act.’ After the cymbals, I often ducked my head under the covers. You’d come to the bed, saying loudly, ‘Huh. Now where did Eric go? He must be up already. I just see a lump under there. Can’t have a lumpy bed all day.’ Then you’d pick up ‘the lump’, blanket and all, and set me on the rug on the floor. ‘Oh! There are you!’ you’d pretend to realize the lump was me after all. ‘Okay, then, get your clothes on and move it downstairs. You’ve got to eat something before you leave.’ You’d open the chest of drawers and give me a little push to get me going. You were happy to play that game with me a couple times, but I knew the next time you looked in, I’d better be dressed and gathering my things. Usually, you ended up pulling a comb out of your pocket and running it through my hair before I left the house, because I often forgot to comb it myself.”

John and Marlena both laughed at that recollection. “You still a reluctant riser?” John asked.

“I’ve got a good alarm clock, and I lay off the snooze button,” Eric said genially. “I have to. The parishioners expect me to be on time.”

Marlena said, “I think you inherited that reluctance to get up early from me, Eric. I’m not generally a morning person. And I’ve been told that a number of times.” She looked at John. “You chided me a few times about that.”

“Yeah? You’ve been up early these last few days,” John grinned.

They talked for quite a while, but finally Marlena looked at her phone, “I’m sorry, but I need to go to the hospital and meet Kayla. I can go and come back for you, if you want to stay, John. Or, maybe Eric can bring you back?”

“I’d be happy to do that,” Eric assured them both.

So John remained with Eric. Marlena and John had agreed that Marlena could tell Kayla about him. And if she ran into any other Brady family members or into dear friends she could also spread the word. Also, to prevent Sami from feeling left out, Marlena had called her before they left the townhouse.

Of course, Sami had been astounded and overjoyed. She’d wished she could get to Salem sooner, but it would still be late Wednesday before she could be here in person.

Kayla’s office was as small and unexceptional as Marlena’s now. Reallocations of budget monies to care, especially for the indigent, and to increased emphasis on research, had played a part in that. Also, the hospital had undergone remodeling, and a conscious decision had been made to reduce the size of the offices. Marlena wished though they weren’t as cramped as they were. Also, the dark color scheme of the offices and much of the hospital itself did not appeal to her.

Marlena saw Kayla through the open door, but since Kayla had her attention trained on paperwork, Marlena knocked on the doorframe. Kayla smiled broadly. “Come in!”

The two gave each other a hug. “I’m surprised to see you, Marlena. Weren’t you going to stay at the V.A. hospital until the end of this week?”

“Yes, I was. And I have to apologize because things have been snowballing, and I just haven’t had time to keep people, especially you, in the loop.”

“Okay, tell me. Sounds serious. Are you okay? Is everyone in the family?”

“No one’s ill. But I experienced a huge shock last Wednesday. Kayla, I saw someone in the Palo Alto hospital whom I’d never expected to see again.” Before Kayla could ask the obvious question, Marlena came out with it, “I saw John. John Black.”

“Truly? You really did?” Kayla’s eyes were huge and, like so many Marlena had broken this wonderful news to, she paled with the shock.

“Yes! And he came back with me to Salem yesterday. So far, Brady, Emma, and, this morning, Eric, have seen and visited with him.”

“But. Where’s he been? Why didn’t he come back all these years?” Kayla’s voice rose as she spoke.

Quickly Marlena filled in the bare bones of John’s story so Kayla wouldn’t bust a fuse being angry that her “brother” had disappeared so completely.

“That’s a really unbelievable story. But then John lived an unbelievable story when he was here in Salem, so I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Kayla continued, “It must be very strange for him to meet all these people who were a part of his life he doesn’t recall.”

“Yes,” Marlena said sadly. “I’d hoped that we would trigger memories for him, but so far it hasn’t happened. Of course, he’s elated to see Brady and Emma. He didn’t know he had any children. He loves them just because they are his. He also showed genuine love to Carrie, whom we briefly saw in California, and to Eric. He’ll do the same with Sami when he meets her, I’m sure. And, he will be happy to see you and Steve, and Abe, and so many others who were friends and family back then. Perhaps he will feel a sense of belonging when he sees how many people care about him and love him still in Salem.”

“I certainly hope so. After what you’ve told me about his life, he deserves that.’ She added pensively, “Thank God you and he crossed paths in Palo Alto, Marlena. Thank God you listened to your little voice and went in and checked to see who this vaguely familiar man was.”

Marlena nodded solemnly. “Truth is, it gives me chills when I think I could easily have ignored that impulse to go into the Physical Therapy waiting room. If I had, I probably wouldn’t have gotten a second chance to see him.”

Kayla watched her friend and sister-in-law. “But how are you doing, Marlena? This must be hard for you — being with John, but not really having him fully be the man you remember and loved.”

Casting her eyes down, Marlena felt a wave of discouragement wash over her at verbally hearing her own predicament. “Yes, the stubborn persistence of John’s memory loss is a real blow to me. I long for him to feel with his whole heart and soul. I long for him to remember everything, including the tiniest details of our times together. Of course, I want that for him regarding all relationships he formed back then, but most of all, I yearn for him to relate to me the way he once did.

“I even persuaded him to let me hypnotize him, but the only Salem reference he made was, ‘My pop sells fresh fish.’ ”

“He said that?”

“He did. But it didn’t lead to anything further.”

“But maybe it’s a sign you should try again, Marlena.”

“Oh, if he’ll let me, I will, I assure you. But John is convinced that after 27 years — well, technically, it’s 18 years — his memory block is so ensconced that nothing will knock it down.”

Kayla considered that. “It is a long time. As you know better than I, amnesia doesn’t normally last very long.”

“True, but most amnesia (rare condition that it is, everywhere but Salem), isn’t deliberately imposed by a madman master criminal. John downplays it, of course, but he was subjected to prolonged torture both before he came to Salem in 1985 — at Stefano’s hands — and again in 2001-2002 — by a bastard son of Stefano’s.”

“According to what you said, John was taken captive again when Emma came to you, right?”

“Yes. Right.”

“That was just days before 9/11,” observed Kayla.

“Yes, but I think John had already been taken out of the U.S. by the time of the attacks, so the grounding of all flights and other transportation probably had no effect on his forced travel. And most likely he didn’t know about 9/11 until he escaped later in 2002. Why? Do you think there’s something significant there?”

“I have no idea. It just occurred to me that his kidnapping in 2001 took place very shortly before 9/11. It’s probably just a coincidence.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. Yesterday, when Emma told John what she knew, I was struck by her comment that John spoke to a man in Washington D.C. She also said John had been more determined than ever to escape the island when he finally succeeded. Perhaps he’d learned something from a loose-lipped employee of then-boss Raffaelle Estanza. Maybe he had vital information he turned over to the government before being captured again. Maybe it even had some connection with the upcoming 9/11 terrorism.”

“Hmm. Could be.” Kayla mused. “But wouldn’t Shane have known if he did that?”

“Perhaps he does know, Kyla. People in the covert services have a lot of secrets they must keep.”

They both thought about that for a minute.

Marlena sighed and returned to the subject of John and herself. “It is frustrating. John is John, but he’s also someone I don’t know. He’s kind and thoughtful — as he was before. He’s willing to embark on this adventure of reconnecting with people who knew him so long ago and still love him. And as I mentioned to others, I believe John will soon love Brady and Emma as much as they do him. Maybe Carrie, Sami, and Eric too. But when it comes to the two of us, he just isn’t feeling what he used to.”

“Give him time, honey. And give yourself some too.”

“That’s what he says. He reminds me it hasn’t even been a week since I found him.”

Kayla chuckled. “Good point.”

“All right, yes. But. But if he still felt the love he had for me, I don’t really see time as being significant.”

“From what you’ve told me, the loss of all his memories from 1986 until 2002 was all encompassing. And there weren’t any cracks. At least not until you hypnotized him and he did mention the fish market. That could be the hole in the dike. Maybe more will come spilling out with time if you hypnotize him repeatedly. And if he stays in Salem and is constantly in the environment he’s forgotten.”

“Perhaps so.”

“I know you’re worried that he might never remember. And that he might never feel for you what he did.”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I think true love won’t be denied. Steve and I have had a lot of difficult times, as you know. A few of those times, I really despaired that we would ever be together again. But here we are, Marlena. I love him so much, and I know he loves me just as much.” Kayla glowed when she talked about her husband.

“Maybe Steve should be John’s next visitor, Marlena. He might be able to knock a few memories loose. And, speaking of friends, have you told Abe yet?”

“Not yet. I’d like to tell him in person.”

Kayla smiled at her friend. “It’s such good news. Especially for Brady and Emma. And, I believe, it will be good news for you as well.”

“Oh, it is already. I am so happy for the kids and for John. And you’re right. I have to be patient. I’m working on it.”

Once they had confirmed Marlena’s intention to return to Palo Alto next week, they went their separate ways. Marlena checked into her own office, and determined there were no urgent messages waiting on her desk. Even in these days of texts and emails, some people still called the landline of her assistant and then pink little pieces of paper waited on Marlena’s desk. She also listened to the few voice mails on her own landline. Again, no emergencies she had to deal with now.

Then she checked her iphone again. Eric’s text read, “Taking John to Pier 29.” He had only sent it about 25 minutes ago. It would have taken about twenty minutes for Eric to drive there. Okay, then, that’s where she would go. She texted Eric back.

Marlena hadn’t been at Pier 29 in a long time. Oh, once in a while, she and Roman had walked along it during their marriage. But she had always most closely associated it with John, and most specifically with the reunion they’d had there when she’d returned to Salem in 1991. The pier represented a kind of icon to her. A symbol of them. She was not sure how she was going to react to being there again with John under the present circumstances. She doubted the place would have any meaning for John. She wondered why Eric and John had decided to go there.

Finding a place to park anywhere in Salem during a busy workday could be a challenge, but someone pulled out of a space conveniently just in front of her, and she managed to parallel park with a minimum of fuss even though she generally avoided that maneuver whenever possible.

As she stood at the top of the old but still sturdy wooden pier staircase, her eyes immediately fell on John and Eric standing together. Both of them faced out toward the river.

In a few moments she came alongside them. “Hello you two,” she greeted them cheerily.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, Marlena.”

“What are you doing down here?”

“I asked Eric to show me this pier since you told me some really important moments took place here.”

“That was a great idea,” she said warmly, looking at them both.

Eric leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He said, “I should be going. I promised a few of the guys I’d meet them for lunch.”

“Which ‘guys’ are those?”

“Those are some of my fellow priests and a couple deacons,” Eric said gamely.

“I’m sorry you can’t have lunch with us.”

Eric nodded. “Me too.” He looked at John and grinned. “Brady and Emma get to call you ‘Dad,’ right? Would you mind if I jumped on that bandwagon? For most of the time I knew you as a kid, that’s what I always called you. When things played out so weirdly when my other dad returned, I sure was confused for a while. So, even now, I’m not really comfortable calling you by your name.”

John gave Eric’s arm a manly smack. “Listen. You were my son. I still want you to be my son. We may not be blood, but if you want to call me ‘Dad’, I’m thankful and happy.” Then he deadpanned, “Should I call you ‘Father’, Father?”

Eric laughed. “No. Eric or ‘kid’ will do fine.” He exchanged a hug with John, and told them both, “I hope to see you before Friday, but if things get hectic at the church, I know I’ll be seeing you then for sure.” He smiled broadly again and hurried away.

John laughed delightedly. “He’s a fine young man. You and Roman did good with him.”

Marlena took his arm and assured him, “You did ‘good’ with him first. You were his sole parent for five years. Thank you, again, John, for all that you did for him, Sami, and Carrie. I know I don’t have to thank you. That you thought they were yours and were just doing what any father does for his own. But then you lost them when we all heard the DNA results. That was a devastating blow to you. I’m so sorry about how much you were hurt. Of course, as Eric mentioned, he, Sami, and Carrie were very confused. He and Sami had only known you as their father. If you had not disappeared on December 28, 1992; if you had stayed in Salem, I think all three of them would have wanted to maintain a good relationship with you. That might have hurt Roman, but perhaps he would have seen the benefits for the kids.”

“Yup, that was undoubtedly a very tough situation for everyone. If I’d stayed, my guess is that you and I would have had a rough road, especially when I became a widower and you were married to Roman.”

She nodded a little self-consciously. “You’re not wrong, John.”

Marlena decided to change the subject, at least partially. “Did Eric tell you more stories about when he was little?”

“He did! He remembers a lot. Did he tell you those stories too?”

A shadow fell across Marlena’s face, and it matched her mood. “Not a lot, no. Eric has always been able to sense other people’s emotional states. It’s one of the things about him that makes him a good priest. He knew it made me sad that I’d missed those crucial years in his life. Of course, I was happy that you’d been there with the children, but I thought Sami and Eric were my only biological children, and it crushed me that I hadn’t been part of those ‘discovery’ years of theirs. And, of course, when I finally met Emma, our daughter, I again had missed her childhood. She was a teenager already, and I didn’t remember being with her her first few years.”

John’s face sobered too. “You never recovered memories from those ‘missing years’ of yours, did you?”

“No.”

“So, we can’t really expect me to remember either,” he said bleakly.

“But you have remembered the early part of your own life, John. That’s just amazing and wonderful. If you could do that, maybe you can recall the rest. Maybe you just need the right stimuli.”

“Hmm. I thought coming here to this pier might be a useful stimulus. But I haven’t gotten any sense of deja vu being here.”

“Maybe it’s not the right time of day.”

“Come again?”

“Most of our rendezvous took place after dark, not in the brightness of day.”

“Ah.”

It was lunchtime. Last night they’d eaten Chinese with the kids. Now Marlena suggested a Mexican food truck that generally parked at this time of day only a block from this pier.

John seemed unsure, “If we go there, are we likely to meet people who know you and might have known me?

“No, I think we’d be pretty safe. If I want to see people I know, the Brady Pub is the main place. And a few others. But this truck, called Midwest Mex, is not a big meeting place for us.

As they ascended the stairs, Marlena realized John hadn’t brought his cane when they drove to see Eric. “You are getting around well now without your stick,” she said aloud.

“Yah. I’m really getting used to the brace, and even when I take that off at night, my leg feels better than before.”

“That’s great.”

Marlena ordered a chicken taco and John a carne asada burrito. They found a bench nearby and soon munched away, careful to keep bits of food from dropping into their laps. Once they’d satisfied their hunger, they continued to sit there, looking out at the river and people watching.

At one point both their phones virtually simultaneously alerted them to incoming texts from Emma. She asked if they would like to come see Johnny and Teddy this afternoon. Or, she proposed, she could bring them to the park a couple blocks from Marlena’s.

Marlena looked at John questioningly. “They are four-year-olds. Full of energy, excitement, demands, and questions.”

He didn’t hesitate. “I’d love to meet them.”

He texted back for both of them.

Then they still continued to sit there. And for once, Marlena felt uncertain about what to say. Finally, she simply informed him, “I did tell Kayla about you, and by now, she has almost certainly told Steve and Kim, and other members of the Brady family.”

“Okay, that’s to be expected, right? What about Bo and Hope?”

“They pulled up stakes from Salem years ago with their son, Shawn Douglas. They’re upper management in the Santa Fe Police Department, and will most likely retire there because they really enjoy living in New Mexico — which is odd because it’s landlocked, and Bo used to have a boat. He joined the Merchant Marines for several years when he was young. Shawn-D is still a sailor at heart and in fact. He lives in Florida and ferries around tourists in the Keys and elsewhere. But, Kayla will probably let them all know too.”

“And Shawn and Caroline Brady? The ones I thought were my parents for a while?”

“They’ve both passed on. Shawn in 2008, and Caroline just last year. In fact, she died only three months before Roman.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. Well, at least her son didn’t pass before she did…”

“Yes. Children should not die before their parents.” Marlena said firmly, as though making that pronouncement would prevent parents from experiencing that profound sorrow.

John glanced at her, sympathy in his deep blue eyes. “No, they shouldn’t. I’m sorry about your infant son, Marlena. I’m sure it’s still a hole in your heart.” He reached over and covered her hand with his, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Changing the subject, she asked, “This must all be so crazy for you, John. I don’t know if I would be able to deal with the avalanche of disclosures that I’ve asked you to.”

Continuing to hold her hand, John stared out at the activity on the river. “I was going to talk to you about that. After we see Emma and our grandsons — and believe me, it amazes me that I could just utter that statement — I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to just be on my own for a while. I think I’ll take the rental and go for a drive. Maybe get the lay of the land for myself, maybe get outside of Salem, going south instead of west as we did to see Eric this morning. Driving helps me clear my head.”

“Of course, John. You need to do that. You’ve got to have time to assimilate everything. Time to try to fit it into your understanding of the world. Take all the time you need.”

Marlena also wanted to ask something of him though. “When Kayla and I spoke, she said something that I wanted to run past you. She noted that you were captured again just days before 9/11. Do you actually have memories of 9/11? I mean nearly everyone alive then can tell you exactly where they were when they heard.”

“Yeah, like it was for those of us alive on November 22, 1963, the day of President Kennedy’s assassination.”

“Exactly. Do you remember that? Or did your memory erasure include 9/11 and the days after it?”

“No,” he shook his head. “I don’t have any recollection of that day or its immediate aftermath.” He paused. “My guess is I was heavily drugged and in some cell at that time.

“The first things I remember date from Spring 2002. There wasn’t a calendar or clock readily available though, so I’m not sure exactly when I started being really conscious again. I had no access to outside news either.

“I learned about 9/11 when I started working again for Lou at the AIAF. Why do you ask? Did Kayla think it was important in some way?”

“Oh, she had no specific thought except that, as I said, you were captured again just before 9/11. But, I mean, I wonder…”

“What?”

“Do you think there’s any chance that you were so important to the DiMera/Estanza crime organization because it had some peripheral connection with the 9/11 terrorist plot, and you had learned that before you escaped with Emma?”

“I..I.. don’t know.” John made a face. “DiMera’s and then Estanza’s syndicate had all kinds of criminal enterprises, but I don’t believe Raffaelle supported the 9/11 terrorism. I don’t think anyone ever suggested that.

“But, Emma’s story has brought in another angle. It did sound as though I had learned some vital intelligence that I believed needed to be passed along to the American authorities.”

“Yes, I’ve been thinking the same thing.’ Marlena agreed.

“I have no idea what that was though. However, when Emma talked about an agent named Frank helping us get back to the States, I thought later last night she probably meant Frank Schubert who worked for the ISA. You said Roman Brady worked for the ISA, so I must have known Frank from ‘being’ Roman.’ ”

“Yes, that makes sense. “

He let out a long breath.

“What is it?” she asked.

“Keep this to yourself, but I remember when I came back to the AIAF, Lou put me on a task force to investigate the death of Frank Schubert. The official report claimed he died accidentally just about a week after 9/11, although his body wasn’t found until April 2002. But our investigators found evidence he’d been murdered. With my memory loss, I didn’t know who he was. Now, I wonder if he wasn’t killed by order of Raffaelle because he helped me.”

“Oh, John.” Both Marlena and John looked horrified at the thought.

He thought some more. “After 9/11, law enforcement agencies did pay greater attention to the possible convergence between international crime and terrorism, particularly with regard to financing, and also just the fact that members of both would resort to similar acts of violence. I think that was one of the main reasons so much emphasis was placed and so many resources were expended on finding Raffaelle and his top lieutenants.”

“Perhaps it’s worth trying to find out more,” Marlena said.

“Yes, it could be at that,” John agreed.

“I was also wondering whether you would think about doing another hypnosis session. Kayla believes, as I do, that since you did remember that little bit about Shawn Brady’s fish market, you might have some other breakthroughs — more relevant ones — if we tried again. And I think you know by now that I wouldn’t ask you to explore any national security secrets you can’t divulge to anyone. In fact, Kim Donovan, Roman, Bo, and Kayla’s other sister, is a psychiatrist also, and if you wanted a second witness, we could ask her. Then Mr. Smith wouldn’t need to go to Salem.” She gave him a smile as she said that bit about David.

John smiled wryly too. “Mr. Smith goes to Washington a lot more than to Salem, that’s for certain.” He worked his jaw again, and said reluctantly, “I don’t know. It could take a lot of sessions to seriously get anywhere. And, yeah, even though you directed me on what to think about last time, there’s no guarantee I might not let something slip that I shouldn’t.”

“Would you please give it some more consideration?” she asked.

He shrugged and then nodded.

They strolled to Marlena’s Mercedes and drove on by the townhouse to the tree-filled park up the street. Emma’s Subaru hadn’t arrived yet, as far as they could tell, but they got out.

A number of children already boisterously played on the swings and slides and other recreation equipment. Two girls played with a ball. One dug in the sandbox.

“This is quite a large park,” John noticed. He stopped the ball as it rolled along near him after one of the girl’s let it get by her. Giving it a little kick with his left foot, he sent it back to her, and waved at her when she squealed, “Thanks, Mister.”

“Yes. It’s one of the twins’ favorite places,” Marlena replied, smiling at the girl too. “Oh, there they are,” she added, as the green Subaru slotted into a parking space.

They went over and greeted Emma who answered them happily but was too engaged in releasing her offspring from their car seats for any embraces. When one of the identical twins was put on the sidewalk, he saw his grandmother and his face lit up. “Gram,” he pronounced indistinctly, throwing up his arms for a hug.

“Hi, honey,” Marlena knelt down to his level and held and kissed him. Then she did the same with the other boy as soon as he stood by his brother’s side. The two four-year-olds were a bit small for their age, and their honey colored hair cut a medium between Emma’s darker locks and their dad’s much lighter crew cut. Their blue eyes and their chiseled noses had been appropriated from the grandfather they had never seen until now, Marlena had always been convinced. Funny how characteristics sometimes skipped a generation.

They looked curiously at John now. Their mother came to stand by him. “Johnny,” she gave his nose a brush. “Teddy,” she smiled and tousled his hair. “Remember what we talked about in the car? This is my dad. We lost track of each other a long time ago, but now he’s back. Say, ‘Hi’ to him. You can call him, ‘Grandpa.’ “

Shyness overtook Johnny more than Teddy who looked at John boldly and said, “HI!”

John also got down on his good knee and held out his hand to Teddy. “Hi, partner. Glad to meet you.” Teddy let John gently shake his hand. Then John turned to Johnny. “Glad to meet you too, Johnny. You and I have the same name. My name’s John too.” Johnny looked at the big hand John held out to him and slowly he imitated his brother and offered his.

Johnny said, “You name s Johnny too?”

Emma and Marlena laughed softly, but John nodded. “That’s a fact!”

Teddy didn’t like being left out. “Is yoo name Teddy too?”

Emma broke in, “No, honey, you share the same name as Granddad Ted, remember?”

“Oh” he said, looking a little confused. The boys were about as slippery as eels. They wanted to go play, so their mother let them run ahead to the slides where they impatiently waited their turn to climb up the ladder and zip down.

John gave Emma a hug as he, she, and Marlena stood a little distance away watching the boys. “They’re the best gift I’ve ever gotten — after you and Brady,” he told her, his voice laden with emotion.

“They’ll warm up to you,” she assured him.

And sure enough, after a while one of them ran up to where John stood and tugged on his pant leg. Marlena could tell the twins apart, but she thought perhaps John couldn’t yet so she gave the boy a big smile and said, “Hi, again, Teddy,”

John again kneeled down to meet the child face to face. Teddy said, “Will yoo push us on th swings?”

So off John went to where Johnny kept dibs on two empty swings. And soon the boys were laughing gleefully as they swung into the air.

Marlena smiled. “You and I are no longer the most desired swing pushers. They’ve found someone who can put more strength into it.”

Emma gave her mom a sympathetic look. “They had Roman to push them last year, but they’ve missed the masculine granddad touch since he’s been gone. And, of course, Tad comes to the park with them too sometimes.”

Marlena didn’t want to dwell on Roman. “You didn’t bring Cody?”

“No, I have to keep him on a leash here. We take him to the dog park close to home.”

“Oh, right, Yes, that’s a people park too,” Marlena pictured it as she spoke. In fact, that park, even larger than this one, was called “The Tom and Alice Horton Memorial Park.”

Before they were through at the park, John played a little bit of several kinds of ball with the boys. He even obliged them as much as he could when they wanted him to play “monster” and chase them. Although he couldn’t yet run around a lot, he was able to give them a few frights when they got too close to him. He’d pretend to be sleeping, or unaware of them, and they would cautiously sidle up. Then John would roar and swipe at them and they would scatter, laughing hysterically. Even some of the other kids joined in with that game.

Finally, Emma called her sons back to their car, and goodbyes were said all around. The twins, eyes all sparkly, made sure John knew they wanted to play with him again.

Emma hugged her parents. “It means so much to me to have you both!” she said, her eyes tearing up. That, of course, caused the same reaction in both Marlena and John.

Once the Subaru had signaled and joined the traffic, John turned to Marlena, his voice still husky with emotion, “You’ve given me these precious gifts. Thank you, with all my heart.”

As he pulled her close, she snuggled her head against his shoulder. “Your return is just as precious a gift to all of us. You’ll be able to teach these twins about baseball and take them to games. Tad isn’t much of a baseball fan, so he won’t mind your expertise.

“And you know, as you were playing with them, I thought again and again that you certainly must have played with Eric and Sami that way when they were four years old. I bet they loved “monster” too. And you did the same with Emma. Played with her, taught her sideline life lessons, encouraged her to develop her natural skills, and all. I missed seeing you do that with those three, but now, I’m so happy to see you with Johnny and Teddy.”

“I bet I was a wilder monster with them. It’s been a lot of years since any of them were so young.”

“You’ll be fine. As you said, pretty soon you should be able to run on your left leg, and,” she lifted her face to him, “you are still in very good physical trim.”

“You think so?” John held her a little closer. Then he angled her around in front of him and kissed her. Gentry, almost feather light at first. Then with more pressure and soon they engaged eagerly. But since they still stood in a park rated “general audiences,” they broke apart reluctantly. John gazed at her and his hands both touched her face in a way so familiar to her. Again, she thought he was straining to remember her and the way they’d been together.

At last he kissed her cheek and, without speaking, they meandered to her car. As she started the finely-tuned engine, she asked softly, “Where to?”

He looked over and replied, “Back to your townhouse? I’d like to take that drive I talked about earlier.”

“Of course.” When they arrived, Marlena gave John her extra garage door opener. After a trip upstairs, he swiftly returned, and said as he climbed into his driver’s seat, “I don’t know how long I’ll be….”

Nonchalantly she assured him, “Not a problem. Take all the time you want. If you come back really late, you’ll be able to get into the townhouse through the garage.”

He waved in acknowledgement and reversed out and into the street. Once he was gone, Marlena closed the garage door and went upstairs. In her front room, she kicked off her shoes and lay down on the sofa.

Her emotions were all roiled again. She had no claim on John Finley Darrow. He could decide to go back and live in his house in Santa Rosa and just visit his children and grandchildren and have them visit him. She still had no idea what he had planned to do in his retirement. For that matter, he probably didn’t know yet either.

But she did know if he couldn’t remember their love, chances were good that she and he would be on separate tracks for the rest of their lives. The anguish of that slashed her heart. She and John belonged together. Of course in the beginning, Orpheus, and then Roman and Isabella, had obstructed that togetherness after only a short period of ‘marriage,’ but now they had another chance in the autumn of their lives. If only they could fully grasp that ring of opportunity, that ring of grace. Marlena was ready to grab it. But it was useless to do so by herself. John had to be right there with her, and they both had to reach for it and claim it together.

Marlena knew stewing about it wouldn’t change a thing. She hoped while John drove around, letting everything he’d learned in the last six days percolate in his own confused mind, he’d give serious thought to her suggestion to continue hypnosis. She could think of no better way to stimulate in him some connection to the past, because, even though he had met her, Carrie, Brady, Emma, and Eric — all of them from his unrecalled past — those meetings hadn’t jerked loose his memory block.

Afraid to wallow too much in the morose possibilities, Marlena picked herself up, stepped into her shoes again, and left the townhouse.

She knew where she aimed her Mercedes. John hadn’t wanted to go there, but now, by herself, Marlena headed into the heart of Salem and once parked, she walked a block to…The Brady Pub.

At 4:37 in the afternoon, a lull time, the bar and the tables didn’t hold too many customers yet. But the person Marlena hoped would be there was: Steve “Patch” Johnson. Working behind the bar, he looked up when the door’s little bell chimed, and a welcoming smile burst on his face. “Marlena! Hi!” He came out and gave her a hug.

“Hi, Steve. So good to see you.”

“You too.” Steve gave her a conspiratorial look and lowered his voice, “Kayla told me that huge news. About John. I can’t wait to see him. Is he right behind you?”

Marlena smiled as they sat down at an empty booth. Kayla and Steve owned the pub now that her parents had both died. Steve, who’d served in the Merchant Marines with Bo Brady when they were young, had done some shady things when he came back to Salem, but then served law enforcement in several capacities, including occasional ISA agent. Now, being largely retired from such activities, he ran the pub. “It is great news. But you’re going to have to wait a little longer to see John. Right now, he’s taking a drive and trying to digest everything. He needed some time by himself.

“Yeah, I can imagine. Amnesia is a bitch. You know that, and I know it too.” Steve added, “It sounds like he has a really odd case of it. Kayla said he now remembers his early life before Salem — which was a total blank when he was here before.”

Marlena nodded and continued the thought, “And he remembers the last 18 years. But now it’s 1985 through early 2002 that are missing from his memory.”

“Very strange. How is that even possible?”

“I don’t know. It’s definitely one for the medical books.”

“So, he doesn’t remember me, right?” Steve, whose black eye patch was famous, continued, “So he doesn’t remember that I got hold of him when he came to Salem with his head swathed in bandages, and, finding out that Victor Kiriakis wanted to get his hands on him, tried to sell him to Victor?”

“No,” Marlena gave him a kiddingly baleful glare. “And you probably shouldn’t lead off with that when you see him.” She added, “Good thing you didn’t succeed, by the way.”

“Well, he — we called him The Pawn then since we didn’t know his name or anything much about him — escaped.” Steve said matter-of-factly.

“He doesn’t remember any of us, Steve.” Marlena couldn’t help the note of self-pity her voice betrayed when she said that.

“I’m sorry. Finding him, but being denied a real reunion. That’s just not fair to you. Or him, even though he doesn’t know it, does he?”

Marlena wanted to cry, but she held back the tears. “It’s just so gut-wrenching. I can see him, I can touch him, and talk to him. But the essential ingredient that made him love me the way I still love him is missing!”

“Hey, honey, listen.” Steve leaned over the table and held her hand as his one good eye engaged her. “You know that sufferers of amnesia are a fickle lot. There’s no predicting when one of us will get lost memories back. Have some faith. Give him some time, okay?”

“I do know that, and I’ve always been so thankful you regained your memory. But, as you know, I haven’t. The years I was held by Orpheus are still a blank to me. And, as John said upfront, he has been missing the years 1984- 2001 for nearly twenty years now too. The longer they are blocked, the less likely they’ll be recovered.”

He looked thoughtfully, even pleadingly, at her. “What can I do to help, Marlena? Whatever you and John need, I’m here for you. Kayla and I are here for you.”

“I know, Steve. You don’t know how much that means to me. And if I think of something specific you can do, believe me, I’ll be rushing over to ask.”

Steve nodded approvingly. “I guess John has been pretty swamped by everything he’s learned.”

“Definitely,” Marlena agreed.

“Okay, so I’ve gotta be patient. I’ll wait until he comes to me.” He looked uncertain. “Do you think that’s the right move? Or will I wait forever if I do that?”

“I think that’s the right tack for right now. He probably will come here to the Pub and see you and Kayla and any other Brady or Johnson or Horton who’s around and remembers him. After all, the party for Eric, Sami and Tad will be here, and I think he’ll attend that. Just don’t expect too much.”

“Is he okay — besides the amnesia, I mean?”

“He had a terrible fall a couple years ago. It took a long time for him to recover from his injuries, and he’s still working on rehabilitation for his left lower leg which he broke very badly. And, of course, like all of us, he’s older. But he’s still in good shape, and still a very good man.

“I think Carrie, Brady, Emma, and Eric were all thrilled to see him, and he showed them all love. Sami’s the only one who’s missed out, but on Wednesday, she is expected here.”

As Marlena finished this thought, Kayla walked through the door. And so, the three of them had dinner together and talked more about John. But they also talked about Marlena’s other experiences at the Palo Alto Veterans’ Hospital, about Joey, Steve and Kayla’s son, about a vacation the Johnsons were planning at Christmas, and other subjects that took Marlena out of herself and her worries for a while.

At 7:30 Marlena excused herself and took a call from Brady who wanted to know if he could come over and see her and John. Marlena explained about John taking some time for himself, and Brady totally understood. “I was going to call him directly at first, but now I’m glad I didn’t disturb him,” he said.

“Honey, maybe tomorrow evening will work. I’ll ask him when I see him, alright?”

Thinking this interruption was opportune to fully excuse herself and go home, Marlena thanked Steve and Kayla for their company and home-cooked food, and left the pub.

She then wandered around Salem Place, window shopping. Many of the shops sported Halloween decorations, a few complete with noises meant to startle and give a little fright. The lights were being extinguished in many that closed at 8 p.m. As she loitered in front of the men’s store display, she reflected she hadn’t had any need to enter and purchase anything there since Roman died. Now, she wondered, would she again be a patron there, or would she pass by without any need to stop in?

Marlena saw a few people she knew as she strolled, but she didn’t seek them out, and they either didn’t see her in return or were preoccupied and couldn’t come to her. She didn’t worry about walking alone in this area. As long she stayed in well-traveled zones, she felt secure.

Lost in her own thoughts about John, she stared unseeingly into several other windows. Perhaps her dreaded scenario would play out. Perhaps John would never be able to recall their earlier love. Then what? Could they salvage something valuable even then? John had kissed her a few times, and she knew that like within herself, passion had also risen in him. Their bodies still reacted to each other. Could that be a reflex or a learned response left over from their earlier lovemaking? Or was it simply that both of them had been without lovers for a while, and desire took its cue from that celibacy? Whatever the reason, the mutual attraction, the mutual passion still existed.

And, of course, they had other commonalities. They shared a daughter, and two grandchildren. They had, in various ways, other grown children to whom they were connected. Marlena hoped John would be able to meet Sami’s children, and would love them too. John would hopefully get to know Kayla and Steve, Kim and Shane, Victor Kiriakis (who was, after all, Brady’s grandfather on the maternal side, and who, in his old age, didn’t step outside the law, at least not to the degree he had when John came to Salem in 1985), his son Justin and his wife, Adrienne, and perhaps even Bo and Hope if they returned to Salem for a visit. In other words, she hoped he would put down roots here. That he’d want to make this city his home instead of Santa Rosa, California.

Perhaps even if he never remembered, he might fall in love with her again. Once the shock of all he’d learned about his missing years wore off, he might focus more on her and see a match between them as fortuitous to himself as well as to her. The physical part was there. The built-in family and friends were there.

But, she thought forlornly, I don’t want him to be with me just for those reasons. Sure, they’re important, but I want the real thing with him. The fact that John was as reserved as he was with her told her he had not (and she’d said this already) felt the electric zap of love at first sight this time. That crushed her heart. Not because her ego took a pounding, but because her innermost self — which she had given to John in 1986 — yearned for the sealing of souls they’d once had. Again, she asked herself whether she could “settle” for anything less than that with him. Would she be willing to accept him on terms by which he did love her, but not to the same extent he had once?

As she continued down the street-lighted blocks with little traffic, she realized Pier 29 lay just ahead. Why not? She’d go and see if the water and the quiet there might offer her a little clarity. As she approached she also prayed interiorly, “Dear Lord, I thank you with every fiber of my being for bringing John back into my life and the lives of the children. I’m so grateful that he’s generally well, and still such a good, caring man. Lord, you know my request. Please grant John the ability to remember his entire past. Please give him access to it so he can fully love all those who love him. And, yes, dear God, I ask this for myself as well. Please, please permit him to remember our true love. Amen.”

Now at the top of the wooden pier staircase for the second time, Marlena noticed the clear, crisp night. The beautiful vault of the heavens stretched around her, and she could see more of the Milky Way than she could in Salem Place. She shivered a little, not really from coldness, but from the enormity of being one tiny person on this tiny planet, in this little solar system that traveled around the galaxy that was only one of billions of other galaxies.

It brought to mind a paraphrase of what Rick Blaine had famously uttered in that classic old movie: “Our problems don’t amount to a hill of beans in this crazy old world.” In this gargantuan universe, did her heartache about John matter? Yes, she thought, it matters. I just prayed to the Creator of the Universe because He cares about each of us. He cares about John. He cares about me. We have to do our part and live as courageously as we can, but I can ask God to help us and have faith He wants to do just that.

She looked down and saw a few people in the dimmer light there. She paused and let her eyes adjust to that level of light. She felt a little mesmerized…

And then she saw him. He stood near the edge of the pier, and no one else was around after all. And, just as he’d done so many years ago, he was throwing little bits of something she couldn’t identify into the river, a kind of act of meditation, a physical roteness, something like the rhythmic movement of rosary beads in the hands of one repeating Hail Marys.

And unlike that epic night in 1991 when fog blanketed this pier, as mentioned already, tonight she saw with crystal clarity. Nevertheless, like her younger self, Marlena proceeded down the steps until she nearly reached the landing. It flitted through her head that she should more fully reenact the 1991 night by calling out, “Roman.” But she quickly discarded that.

“John.” She did not speak loudly. And he did not hear her. So, again, with a little more volume, she called him. “John.” She also rustled a bit on the stairs, but still he remained so engrossed in his own thoughts, he did not turn to her. Clearing her throat, she called out, with a bit of amusement in her voice, “John!”

Apparently slightly startled, he abruptly turned his head toward her. Marlena knew she was standing in a pool of light so he could see her clearly. Unlike in ‘91, her hair didn’t run down her back. And, of course, the years had aged her skin which had been so youthfully supple back then. But she was still the woman who loved him. Could he see that?

John, so like his earlier self, turned to look at the vision she presented. He didn’t move. He just drank her in. Then his eyes closed. He squeezed them shut. His face looked pained. He raised a hand to his forehead and pressed against it, then moved the hand to his scarred temple. He staggered, shifting closer to the river.

Alarmed, Marlena started toward him. What was happening? She didn’t want him taking a header into the water — as he had deliberately done right after their ‘86 wedding — and she hoped to God he wasn’t experiencing a brain aneurysm. But he apparently heard her movement and held up the other hand to stop her. She obeyed and remained where she was.

For what seemed like minutes, neither moved. Marlena hardly dared to breathe. John, though, took deep, ragged, very audible breaths. From the waist, he leaned forward a few degrees, and Marlena thought he might retch.

Then his crisis seemed to pass. He stood upright, let his hands fall down from his head, and opened his eyes. Behind his glasses, Marlena could see tears rolling down his cheeks. Completely baffled, she again started to close the distance with him, but he moved more swiftly and in the few steps, met her.

Then he reached out and pulled her into his arms, tightening his hold and lifting her off the platform. “Doc! Oh, Doc!” It’s you! I know you! I remember you! I love you so much!”

Exhilaration filled Marlena. Although he was embracing her so tightly she could barely fill her lungs to speak, she managed a whispery squeak in his ear, “John! You do? You remember us?”

John, still holding her in the air, twirled her around a couple times — almost as though they were dancing. Then he set her down, and as soon as she raised her head to meet his eyes, he brought his lips down on hers in a lung-bursting marathon kiss that began with passion and finally finished with star-bursting white-hot fire.

Jubilation overflowed in Marlena too, and as she and John held each other body to body and cheek to cheek, she felt her now copious tears mingling with his.

…Marlena jerked out of her trance. Where was she? Oh, yes, Pier 29. Except she no longer stood on the steps, but had inexplicably moved down to the dock area itself, and quite a ways down the pier length. What had just happened to her? Had she “daydreamed” that scene? Had it been a vision? A cruel game of the mind? So many emotions deluged her: desolation, betrayal, bewilderment, fury.

What mattered was, it wasn’t real. John wasn’t there with her. He hadn’t remembered her. He didn’t love her as he had once.

Not by the water’s edge, but back in the shadows of the looming pier, Marlena broke down and sobbed inconsolably. Her anguish consumed her so completely that she had no awareness of her surroundings.

Then she felt a very sharp blow to her shoulder. Forcing herself to surface from her inner suffering, she swiped at her face, clearing the tears from her eyes and cheeks. She’d have thought this night couldn’t get worse, but now she saw the peril that proved her wrong.

Three young gang members (??) loosely encircled her. One, directly in front of her, grasped a switchblade knife. Another one waved a broken bottle, and the third she felt rather than saw because that person stood in her blind spot. It was the third ruffian who had apparently punched her to get her attention.

Switchblade nastily spat at her, “Quit yer wailin’, broad. Give us yo phone an yo bag. Now. Or y’ get this.” He brandished the blade at her.

Marlena’s heart pounded as her mind finally gauged the danger. She saw no one else on the pier now. If she didn’t hand everything over, they would set upon her and likely stab and cut her viciously, leaving her to bleed out here. But if she did hand over the valuables, would they just melt away, or would they still harm her?

As a psychiatrist, Marlena had dealt with street criminals who came to her for court-ordered therapy. Her experience told her these were not just kids who got off on bullying but weren’t going for a life of crime. These men were probably all in their late twenties and gave the impression of being hardened, repeat offenders who probably had escaped apprehension in their past muggings and other misdemeanors and felonies. They exuded arrogance and confidence that they’d picked a perfect victim tonight.

Marlena saw all three assailants now, the third one having shuffled into her line of sight. He had no visible weapon, but he loomed massive and muscular, and his beefy fists could probably beat anyone into mincemeat. She faced the river (but she couldn’t see past the men), and the menacing trio crammed around her, presenting their backs to the pier stairs.

If she passively gave them her purse, she had a 50% chance of being left unhurt. Still the feisty side of her rebelled at being a victim. And for a fleeting moment, a recollection of SHENANIGANS and the gun wielding punks who’d threatened her there raced across her mind.

“Hand it over NOW, you m–.” Beefy Fists grabbed the purse off her shoulder with one hand and shoved her viciously with the other. Marlena shrieked fearfully, drowning out his ugly epithet. She fell hard onto the pier.

The three hoodlums jeered and crowded around her threatening all kinds of mayhem. Switchblade jabbed the blade at her helpless, prone body.

Then a deep, hard voice behind the men angrily commanded, “STOP.” Beefy Fists swiveled his huge frame to the sound first, murder in his eye. And something whistled, and a snake-like thing whipped down on his muscled hams of arms. He howled in pain.

Immediately after, Switchblade watched his knife go flying as something inflexible flashed, and crashed down on his hands. Marlena, dazed and scared as hell but not really hurt, was sure she heard the sound of breaking bones as he crazily lurched backward, agony written on his face. The flashing thing whiffed through the air and caught Switchblade’s shins too, and he cried out again and fell to his knees only a couple feet from Marlena.

Meanwhile, Broken Bottle saw the intruder become visible (just as Marlena did) as his two fellow hooligans struggled to regain their senses after the turbo attack. He cocked his arm and hurled his beer bottle at the attacker. Undoubtedly aiming for the forehead, his panicked throw missed slightly and careened off John’s left, already scarred, temple, knocking the side piece of his glasses askew. For a moment, John stood immobile and stunned.

Despite the bottle wound beginning to bleed profusely, John recovered his wits. He charged Broken Bottle and slammed him back against the logs that held up the pier in the rear with so much force the criminal hit his head and slid to the plank floor unconscious.

However, Beefy Fists and Switchblade were not finished. They both came at John. “John! Behind you!” Marlena warned shrilly.

Marlena, by the way, had not been frozen in place during this remarkable struggle. When John went for Broken Bottle, she scrambled the few feet needed to snatch the knife off the pier.

Hearing her shout, he pivoted. His cane could cut a wide swath, and he swung it hard, catching Switchblade with another blow, this time to the ribs. Groaning and doubled over with his newest pain, Switchblade backed up and Beefy Hands stayed out of the arc of the cane.

Before either of them could pick up the makeshift “bullwhip” John had fashioned out of a clot of rough rope he’d apparently taken from a pier hook, John ordered thickly, “Get out of here,” Trying to control his breathing he added. “I called the police. Your pal,” he pointed to the unconscious one, “is going to jail. Stick around and you will too.”

Rubbing the visibly scarlet and swelling rope burns on his arms, Beefy Hands backed off. “Come on,” he told Switchblade whose broken hands could no longer hold the blade again even if he grabbed it back from Marlena.

They hightailed it for the stairs, but as they ran up, a few of Salem’s finest stopped them cold.

All three would-be-muggers were carted off to jail, although the emergency room became their first stop.

As soon as the two ran, Marlena picked herself up and rushed to John. His head continued to bleed, as head wounds do. She led him to a bench, “John, sit down so you don’t faint.” She found a clean handkerchief once she retrieved her purse from where it had bounced after Beefy Hands dropped it. Carefully, she held the cloth to his wound to try to stop the loss of blood.

A couple of the officers came to their aid, and instead of waiting for an ambulance, they took both John and Marlena to University Hospital, and Marlena ensured John received the best care from the resident on duty there. She knew Doctor Diane Ushida well.

She stayed in the treatment room with him while they assessed his wound. The bleeding had stopped but a slip of skin lay against his cheek, partially sheared away from his temple. “That will need stitches,” Doctor Ushida said. “We don’t need to do an MRI for this, but since you were slashed with a broken bottle that could have been anywhere, I’ll give you a tetanus shot too.”

Doctor Ushida also noticed his glasses next to John. “Glad the bottle didn’t shatter those.”

John replied listlessly, looking at the doctor but not Marlena, “They’re not glass. They’re polymer. But, yeah, glad they’re not broken since they’re my only pair.”

Then he did rest his eyes on Marlena. He said, “Doctor, check her out too. She was pushed to the ground. Make sure she’s not hurt.”

Marlena demurred. “I’ll have a few bruises, but I’m okay, really. Nothing’s broken, nothing’s sprained.” John shot her a dubious look.

The resident skillfully gave John both a local anesthetic (he grimaced) and the tetanus shot before she stitched the flap of loose skin back into place, dabbed the area with disinfectant, and put a bandage over it. “I see you already had a previous injury there,” she said as she worked.

“Yes,” he agreed. “Now I’ll have a double scar there.”

Marlena said, “I don’t think this one will be very noticeable after it heals completely. Or am I wrong, Diane?”

Doctor Ushida assured him that Marlena was right.

“Doesn’t matter,” he said without much inflection.

John seemed preoccupied or detached to Marlena. She wondered if he had briefly lost consciousness in the police car. She hadn’t been sure. Maybe the bottle had smacked him harder than they thought. Now, he was certainly conscious, but seemed almost in a twilight zone.

His own blood dramatically stained nearly the entire front of his shirt, and the nurse assisting Diane, Jenni Constans, had offered him something to wear instead until he got “home,” but John declined. “I’ll change it when I get back to the townhouse,” he told her. Then, he seemed to rouse himself briefly, and a little black humor crept out of him, “I’m all ready for the local Halloween horror house. Just point me to it.” The ladies laughed.

When the doctor and the nurse left the treatment room, they were free to go. Marlena had given a preliminary report to the police officers already, and they, knowing she was the widow of Roman Brady, decorated and high-ranking former member of the force, had volunteered to round up both her and John’s automobiles and park them outside Marlena’s townhouse. Then they’d brought the keys back to them. Now, Officers Podesta and Washington would give the two a ride back to her home. Tomorrow, she and John would go into the station and sign the charges being proffered against the three muggers. Marlena thought John would probably meet Abe then.

John said virtually nothing on the short drive to the townhouse, although he joined Marlena in thanking the officers for everything once they arrived.

He and Marlena both drove their respective cars into the garage, locked up and headed upstairs.

Seeing the red mess on his shirt, John said, “I’ll go change.” Then checking his watch, he amended his plan, “It’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Before she could say anything he’d already started up the stairs, using the cane he had obviously brought with him when he’d gone out for his drive earlier that afternoon (although Marlena hadn’t seen him with it earlier). He took it slowly.

Marlena knew it was about 10 p.m. She flailed internally, unsure what to do. She thought his strange attitude due to anger at her for putting herself in danger on the pier. Should she follow him and apologize? Or should she wait until tomorrow after they’d both had some rest, and their nerves had returned to normal?

When she and John had been married, they had tried never to go to bed angry at one another. They didn’t always succeed, but she felt wrong about leaving things so unsettled between them tonight.

Making her decision, she turned off the lights on the second floor and followed him to the third. She did feel some aches and pains from her fall, but she ignored those. Taking a deep breath, she marched down the hall to the guest room he occupied. The door leaned partially open, and she could see him as he unbuttoned that bloodied shirt and pulled it from his pants, simultaneously turning his back to the door as he took it off. She put her hand up to knock on the door but as she completed the action, she drew in her breath sharply at what she saw.

John, probably hearing both the rap and her gasp, wheeled around to face her. Seeing her shocked face, he said tonelessly, “Come in then.”

“John,” she began.

He held the shirt away from his body and said, “Take a good look.” He turned slowly so she could see his entire upper body, front and back. Pitting scars from some kind of instrument, burn marks– including acid burns, she thought — and some slashing marred his front. His back, still, as he’d said, carried the old phoenix tattoo, but he also carried deep whip scars and, again, some burn marks, and some indentations she couldn’t identify.

Instead of speaking — because she couldn’t have even if she’d wanted to — Marlena came to him as he faced away from her and put her arms around his waist. With tears running down her face, she kissed every single torture scar she could. At the first touch of her lips to his skin, John tried to pull away, but she stubbornly held on, continuing her mission.

Then she moved around and kissed all the marks on his chest. She did not look at his face, fearing disapproval or revulsion from him. After she had found each one, she laid her head against his hard-beating heart, her tears of sorrow for his pain still running, creating little trails down his chest and abdomen.

John still didn’t speak, but he put his arms around her too.

Finally, Marlena said, “I’m so sorry, John.”

John put his hand in her hair and gently pulled her face up so they looked into each other’s eyes. Marlena saw his wet eyes and cheeks. “Why? You didn’t do it. And,” he swallowed hard, “no one has ever reacted to these scars with the love you just did.”

“Yes, I’m sorry for your pain. No one should ever be treated like that. But, also, I mean I’m sorry for putting myself in danger tonight. If you hadn’t come and saved me, I might still be lying on the pier now, dying or dead.”

John stared at her. Probably without thinking, he tightened his hold on her hair. “Why did you do that?” he demanded, “What were you thinking being on that pier by yourself? YES! You could have been killed.”

In a small, chastened voice she said, “It’s hard to explain. It’s kind of embarrassing, in fact.”

Lowering his hands, disengaging, and moving a couple feet back, John glared at her. “Embarrassing? What are you talking about?”

Marlena dropped her gaze to the floor. “When I came to the pier and stood on the staircase, I had the most vivid daydream or vision, John. It seemed so real. I saw you down by the water’s edge, and when I called to you, you told me you remembered about us. We were both ecstatic. You whirled me around and we kissed like we used to do. But then the dream evaporated and I found myself down deep along the docks. Before I could go back up the stairs, those men accosted me. I had no idea you were there until you took on those three single-handedly and saved me.”

“I wasn’t there before, Marlena. When I came down the staircase, I saw the gang clustered around a woman. I didn’t know it was you at first. Fortunately I had my very sturdy metal cane, and I grabbed the rope and crept up. It wasn’t until I was quite close that I realized it was you.”

John reached out and held Marlena by the shoulders. “Thank God you weren’t hurt!” he said roughly and low in his throat. He pulled her close again and nearly wouldn’t let her breathe. But abruptly, he let go. He closed his eyes and swayed a little.

Alarmed, Marlena called his name again, “John. What is it? Maybe you have a concussion. Sit down here.” She tugged him to the end of the bed and urged him down.

John held his head in his hands, forgetting his bandaged temple for a moment, but then moving his hand away from it. He took off his glasses, tossing them on the bed, and Marlena saw a few bloodstains on the wire frames and one lens. He rubbed his eyes. “It’s odd that you had that vision.”

“It was so real,” Marlena repeated.

His naked gaze — for the first time really looking directly into her eyes without lenses between them — speared her. Then he looked away, fixing his eyes on the door. “When I got hit with the bottle, I nearly blacked out. And then I had this rush of images. They were so disjointed, and fleeting. That’s why I was so quiet at the hospital and when we were driven here. I had a few more. I could still see some of the images in my mind’s eye, and I tried to make sense of them.”

John shifted his eyes back to hers as she breathlessly listened. “When I came into this room, I saw something a little longer.” He paused, apparently marshalling his thoughts. “You were standing in front of me, so awesomely beautiful. Dressed in a white gown, wearing an ornate headdress. I could tell I was formally dressed and had a flower in my lapel. There was a minister or a priest, and people witnessing.”

Marlena exclaimed, overjoyed. “Oh, John, this is wonderful. This could be the breakthrough.” She forced herself to slow down. He had been injured tonight. He needed to rest. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

“It is late. I need to let you get some sleep. But, John, tomorrow, will you allow me to hypnotize you again and see if we can’t bring out more of these scenes that are partially imaging in your brain now?”

Her eyes, her entire face danced with excitement. She leaned her head toward him, and kissed him lightly on the lips. She then started to rise from the bed. But John’s hand reached out and his long, strong fingers entwined with her more delicate ones. “Do it now,” was all he said.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s better to wait until we can start this fresh tomorrow.”

“Do. It. Now.” He added, “Please.”

She acquiesced. He put on a fresh shirt, set his glasses back on his nose, and sat in the chair while she continued to sit on the bed. Within minutes, John was under and Marlena guided him to the flashes of memory the bottle injury had provoked. He told her he still only got a bunch of very brief flashes of images and he couldn’t separate them or put them in any chronological order.

“Okay, that’s fine, John. Don’t worry about that. Don’t try to force anything. The images will hopefully resolve themselves over time. You said you had a little longer memory of our wedding though. Put yourself in that frame. Can you see that?”

There was a long pause. He seemed to be searching for it. Then his face resolved and he nodded, “I see you in your dress. My hands are all sweaty and I feel like I’m burning up in the monkey suit I’m wearing.”

Marlena chuckled, “You looked very handsome in that tux, John. I promise you. And very sexy too.” Turning serious again, she said, “What else can you see, hear, or feel?”

“I’m putting the ring on your finger. I also see you putting mine on me.” John moved his ring finger. “I can feel that gold band on my finger now.”

“How do you feel, John? What do you feel as you stand there with me?”

He frowned, apparently trying to access that. “I’m not sure. I can see how happy you are. I feel incredibly nervous. My heart is pounding so loudly in my ears.”

She waited, thinking to herself — please, John, remember how much you loved me. Please remember.

“I keep thinking how beautiful you are.” Suddenly he laughed, surprising Marlena. Explaining that he told her, “I kissed you before it was time!”

Laughing with him, she replied, “Hmm nn. You did. And I didn’t mind a bit.”

John scowled then. “What is it?” Marlena asked, worried that he was losing the memory. He didn’t answer right away. He stretched his neck and scrunched his eyes as if concentrating more. Marlena said, “Don’t strain, John. Relax and let it flow as it will. Don’t try to organize it. We can do that later.”

He recited, “ ‘That is the true season of love.’
‘When we believe that we alone can love’
‘When no one has ever loved before us’
‘And no one will ever love in the same way after us.’ “

Marlena beamed. “You hear us saying that?”

John nodded, and then his face blushed bright red. His voice cracked, “I love you so much. Every single molecule in my body loves you. My emotions are so exposed and raw. I feel like one big nerve. You said you loved me and I’m struck dumb because all I can think is I love you too! You can’t possibly love me any more than I love you, Doc!”

Now it was Marlena who was struck dumb. John was remembering! He was actually feeling the love he’d felt for her back then!

“You’re my soulmate. The love of my life. You’re the one who makes me feel whole and safe and cherished. You’re the one who loves me the same way I love you. And we both knew it when we shook hands in SHENANIGANS.”

“Yes, John.” Marlena murmured, felt the tears well up. But she wondered whether he would feel it after he came out of the hypnosis.

They had milked everything they could. “It’s time to come back to the present, John. You’ll remember everything. When I count to three, open your eyes. One. Two. Three.”

John did open his eyes, and he just ruminated for a few moments, saying nothing. Marlena smiled at him. “You did great, John. You remembered so much!”

John got to his feet, and he took Marlena’s hand and urged her to stand with him. His fingertips began to gently touch her face all over as if he were a blind man. She didn’t know why he was doing it, but she let him. Then he kissed her. Again, gently.

After that, he enveloped her in his arms, with his head next to hers, his warm breath tickling her ear. He whispered, “I’m so sorry I’ve been gone so long. But it worked out as it was supposed to. You had a long marriage with Roman, and I couldn’t have stayed in Salem when we couldn’t have each other. Now, it’s different again. You found me, and you also found a way to release my long imprisoned, unrecognized love for you. It’s back, Doc. I feel it again with every fiber of my being. There’s so much I still don’t remember, but I know I loved you, and I still do. Just as much. Maybe more. I love you with all my heart.”

Marlena’s heart sang a joy she could hardly contain. She tightened her arms around his neck, stood on her toes and whispered in his ear, “I love you, John. I can’t even begin to tell you how full my heart is right now. I think I love you more right this minute than I ever have. Ever since we met, you’ve been my greatest love, and I’m sorry we’ve had to spend so many years apart. But, we have time left, and I want to spend it with you, my love, if you’ll let me.”

In response to that declaration, John kissed Marlena with unbridled passion. They would not spend tonight in separate rooms, or separate beds. Tomorrow, they would have fresh challenges, more people to see, and plans to make. Wednesday, Sami would descend on them. And Friday, the birthday party for Eric, Sami. and Tad would be celebrated at the Brady Pub. Then, in a few days John and Marlena would head back to Palo Alto and wrap up their respective obligations there. They would also pay a visit to John’s home in the Snoopy world headquarters, Santa Rosa. And after that, they would again fly back to Salem. They would be joined in matrimony as Mr. and Mrs. John Finley Darrow as soon as they could arrange it, and both of them would rejoice in saying new vows and exchanging new rings with each other. They would carry on their life together for as long as God allowed them. And, although they would not be blissful every second of every day, John and Marlena would grace each other’s lives and each of them would be eternally grateful for the ability to share love and life, children, and grandchildren with each other. It would not matter whether John ever recovered all his memories. He had remembered the woman he loved more than life itself, and that was all he and Doc needed.

Fin