Destiny – By Blair P

Marlena shook her head, hard, and blinked her eyes fiercely as she concentrated on the road in front of her. Dots swam in front of her eyes, and she felt a moment of genuine panic at the thought of passing out. But her head and her chest hurt too much for unconsciousness to be blissful, and besides her task was much too important. Oh, God, please don’t let me be too late!
A road sign slowly swam into view – BROOKVILLE 2 MILES. She laughed a bit, a sound of full pain and irony. Damn that arrogant bastard, she hadn’t been more than 30 miles from home the whole time he’d held her in that hideous macabre gilded cage. The thought of Stefano DiMera caused a pain to lance through her head that had nothing to do with her injuries. Don’t think about Stefano! But it was too late, and the horrible scene she’d left behind began to play over and over in her head: Give me the gun, Marlena. You know you cannot shoot me. We belong together – you, me, and the child we created together.
The arrogance of the man had nearly stopped her breath, but the words she had choked back while she was forced to play his games erupted from within her. We didn’t create this child! You forced it on me while I was drugged and unconscious. I would never willingly bring another DiMera into the world. I hate you! I’ve always hated you, and I always will. You’ve taken enough of my life, and I won’t let you take anything else from me – Not my life, my children, or John! Never again!
He had laughed that demented, condescending, infuriating laugh and said John is marrying Kristen, Marlena. He loves her. He is the father of her child, and that is a bond you cannot break. You must accept that that part of your life is over.
The only thing that is over is your power over me. I am walking out of here, and I am going home. I will tell John everything, and then we’ll be together, the way we were meant to be, the way we both want to be. I love him and he loves me, more than anything in this life, more than life itself. And there’s not a damn thing you or Kristen can do about it!
He’d been enraged at what she said, but she hadn’t been afraid

because the rage she saw on his face was nothing compared to the rage she felt in her heart. He’d taken two steps toward her and raised his hand toward the gun…and she had shot him, twice, in the chest, at close range.

I hope you’re dead, you detestable, evil son-of-a… She blinked and swerved the car back onto the road, narrowly missing the sign that read SALEM 20 MILES. Thank God, only a few more miles to go. The amount of blood pooling on the floor under the driver’s seat worried her. She had tried to tie a piece of her dress around her shoulder to stem the bleeding, but it had been difficult to do while driving the car, and she’d dared not stop to do the job properly. Stefano’s minions would be after her, true enough, but there was an even more pressing reason for haste. I won’t let you do it Kristen. I may half kill myself getting there, but I won’t let you marry John.
The last image she had seen through the virtual-reality goggles had been Kristen, twirling around her living room in an elegant, overdone white wedding dress shouting “Mrs. John Black” at the top of her lungs. The scene had confirmed Marlena’s suspicions that Kristen knew Marlena could see her via the goggles. There was no reason on earth for her to be wearing her wedding dress in Marlena’s penthouse, except to twist the knife still further. Stefano had confirmed Kristen’s complicity: Kristen is safeguarding her child’s future. Do not worry Marlena, for she will take good care of Belle. The thought of Kristen raising her daughter had nearly made her physically ill. At that moment she had decided it was worth any price to escape his prison – even if the price was her life. And it very nearly had been.
Ironically, she had felt fairly safe physically while trapped in her cage. Though Stefano’s demented inability to grasp her hatred of him caused her no end of frustration, she believed him when he said he would never let her die – but he would never let her go either. She had wondered what his guards would do if she ever managed to escape – exactly how much force they would employ to hold his prize. Letting her escape would mean certain death – but harming her would mean unpleasant reprisals also. So she hadn’t known what the guard who came upon them in the corridor would do when he saw her struggling out from under Stefano’s limp body. He had hesitated, she’d give him that, but as she’d risen from the floor he’d raised his gun and yelled at

her to stop. She hadn’t hesitated, her decision made long ago, and she’d turned to run. And he’d shot her in the upper back, spinning her around like a rag doll to catch his next shot, a graze to her temple. Somehow she’d manage to propel herself out of Stefano’s labyrinth, the guard behind her calling for the doctor, no doubt confident she would not get very far. But he had underestimated both her determination and her rage, not to mention her sheer luck, as the first car she’d come to still had the keys in it. She’d been amazed to find herself so close to home and had begun her journey immediately.

By noon tomorrow I’ll be Mrs. John Black, Kristen had said. Marlena wore no watch, but the sun overhead confirmed that time was running out. So no hospital, no doctor, no time for a band-aid even, not that it would have helped much. She was headed straight for St. Luke’s, where all the Brady brides were married, and when the minister asked everyone to speak now or forever hold their peace…well, watch out Kristen.
Hang on, John, I’m coming…
* * *
“John? John? Earth to John.” John looked up from the picture he’d been contemplating to see Abe staring at him with a concerned expression on his face. “Are you all right, partner?” “I’m fine, Abraham.”
“You don’t look it.” And Abe was right – he didn’t look it. Nor did he feel it. In fact, he felt ridiculously, hideously wrong standing there in St. Luke’s dressed in a tuxedo preparing to get married. What am I doing here? How can I be getting married while Doc is missing, maybe hurt….maybe dead. I should be looking for her…I should be doing
something! I should not be standing in a church in a monkey suit about to pledge my life to another woman. Dear God, how could this be happening?
Abe gave him an uncertain smile, obviously unsure how to gauge John’s mood. “I saw Kristen earlier. She looks radiantly happy.” John laughed sadly, “I’m glad. Somebody should be happy today.” He caught Abe’s concerned look. “Sorry, partner, must be pre-wedding jitters.” “You forget, John, I’ve seen you with pre-wedding jitters – twice. And both times you looked a hell of a lot happier than this.”
“I know…It just feels wrong, getting married without Doc here…It feels

wrong doing anything that isn’t a part of trying to find her. All I can think is what if right now is the moment when I would be discovering what I need to know to find her, if only I wasn’t here, doing this.” Abe was silent for a moment. “Then why are you doing this?”

John gazed up at the ceiling in despair. “Because I made a promise to Kristen that I would marry her before the baby was born. She’s convinced herself God understands why we got pregnant before taking our vows, because of her medical condition, but she really wants the baby to be born to two legally married parents. So I agreed to let her plan a ceremony, but…” he waved his hand around the room indicating the flowers and candles, “I never expected anything like this. Stefano’s kidnapped Marlena, for God’s sake, and we’re having a party!”
“I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you, John. She’s probably just thinking that…well, that this will be her last wedding ever and she wants it to be something special. I can understand that.” “So can I, I guess…and Doc would.” “What do you mean?”
John stared at the picture of him and Marlena and the kids cradled lovingly in his hands. “She wanted this so much. She was always pulling for Kristen and me, wanting us to be happy. She made excuses for why Kristen lost faith in me, pushed us together when all I wanted was to be with Doc…I believe she left the safety of the mansion to let us be together, even though she must have been scared to death of Stefano. This is what she wanted for me…and she always wants the best for me.”
Abe shot John a quizzical look. “Are you saying you’re getting married because your former wife thinks it’s the right thing to do?” John laughed shortly, ironically. “Yes, I guess I am…I mean, Doc is the smartest person I know. Who am I to argue with her?” “You’re the man who’s in love with her.”
John sighed. “We’ve been over this and over this, partner. Doc doesn’t want me anymore, I have to accept that. And Kristen is carrying my child. I was never able to give any of my other children a proper childhood – the nightmare Carrie, Sami, and Eric went through because of Stefano has scarred them for life, Brady lost his mother a few short months after he was born, and Belle…well, Belle I didn’t even know was mine. This kid’s going to get what I couldn’t give the

others – two parents, a house, a dog…the works.” He nodded his head toward the picture for emphasis, as if assuring Marlena he was doing what she wanted. Abe stared at him for a few moments, unsure of what to say.

Finally, he conceded defeat. He didn’t know what advice to give,
though his instincts told him to tell John to call it off before it was too
late. But he couldn’t marshal a convincing argument. “Good luck,
buddy.” “Thanks, Abe.” John took one last look at the picture before
setting it down on the table in front of the mirror. “Let’s get this show
on the road.”
Chapter 2
John inspected his tie in the mirror of the vestibule for what seemed like the hundredth time. He tugged at it impatiently, trying to ease the constriction around his throat, but finally conceded that there was probably no way to make a bow tie comfortable. Or was it really the tie that choked him? He dismissed that question as irrelevant. It was way too late for second thoughts now. In a few minutes he’d be getting married…again.
Maybe that was the problem. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to marry Kristen in the church where he’d married both Marlena and Isabella. Perhaps a church was only good for a limited number of weddings, and after that it just felt too strange. Oh, wonderful thoughts on the day of your wedding, John. This is not how you should be feeling!
He was distracted from his musings by a knock on the doorframe. “Someone in here call for a best man?” “Hey Bo. Glad you could make it.” Bo laughed. “Yeah, well, sorry, blame it on Hope. There’s just something about seeing me in a tux that makes her…well…” John gave him a wan smile. “As a former priest I probably shouldn’t be hearing this…but then again…So when’s your wedding?”
“As soon as we have enough money to give Hope her dream ceremony, so don’t worry, I’m not ticked off that you beat us to the altar. It’s also probably a good idea to marry Kristen before she’s pregnant enough to go into labor during the ceremony.” Bo saw the stricken look that crossed John’s face in the mirror. “Oh, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to remind you of that today.”
John sighed. “I hardly need reminding. I was just wondering if it’s

proper wedding etiquette to get married in the same church three times.” He tried to laugh about it, but Bo saw the strain in John’s eyes and decided to try to joke him out of his strange mood. “I don’t know – Maybe you could ask Mrs H. She’s been to about a billion weddings. If anyone would know, it’s her.” John turned back toward the mirror, eyes downcast, silent. Finally Bo could stand it no longer. “Hey, bro,” he said softly, “What’s going on?”

John looked at Bo, and the pain in his eyes seemed to come from his soul. “Do you remember when you married Hope that first time, Bo? Do you remember how it felt to see her walk down that aisle and take your hand and pledge to join her life to yours forever?” Bo smiled nostalgically. “Of course I remember. She looked so beautiful…and so nervous. Her hands were shaking, and she gripped mine so tightly that she almost cut off the circulation. Or maybe it was me, I don’t know… But it was the greatest day of my life until Shawn-Douglas was born.”
John looked down at his tightly clenched fists. “I remember that feeling. I felt it when I married Doc. When we thought that I was Roman and that we were reuniting our family, making ourselves whole again. And even after I found out that I wasn’t Roman, it didn’t change how that day felt for me…like finally claiming the other half of my soul.” He traced the contours of the JB monogram on his cufflinks. “I never thought I could feel that way again, but along came Izzy B…” He looked up at Bo with a rueful grin. “Your sister was really something…I think she was the only thing that kept me sane when I didn’t know my name or my past. The day we got married…the day she gave birth to Brady…I finally felt complete again, for the first time in years.” He looked back down at his hands and whispered softly, “And then she died…”
Bo looked away to hide his own tears, but John could hear them in his voice. “It wasn’t fair. She didn’t have nearly long enough.” He cleared his throat. “But she loved you with all her heart, and she gave you Brady…” “I know…and my children are my greatest joy. I remember when I found out Belle was my daughter…it was the greatest gift in my life.” He suddenly realized to whom he was speaking. “Sorry, Bo, I know how you feel about that.”
Bo looked at him consideringly. “I won’t say I wasn’t angry… and

confused. It seemed so out of character for both you and Marlena. But I began to understand it better after Hope came back…to understand how torn Marlena must have been, and how hard it was for you to give up the life you’d had for years. And I always understood how Isabella’s death affected you. Maybe it wasn’t right, but it wasn’t incomprehensible either.” Bo grimaced with brotherly guilt, but continued, “I think Roman should have tried to understand, to forgive Marlena. But maybe those eight years away changed him into a person incapable of that…I don’t know. It seems incredible to me that after all that time away he could just take off for two years…miss the birth of his first grandchild, his daughter’s almost-wedding, Marlena’s almost-death… If he could do that to the kids he already has, maybe Belle is lucky she has you.”

“But if Belle weren’t mine, then he wouldn’t have left…” “Water under the bridge, man.” Bo slapped him on the back. “And it’s not Isabella or Marlena coming down that aisle today. Kristen loves you, man, and you’re going to have an incredible life together.”
“That’s what I keep telling myself.” John glanced up at the clock on the wall. “Twelve-fifteen. Already running late. I wonder if she forgot the something borrowed or the something blue. I-” He stopped abruptly as a scream echoed from the hallway. “Oh my God, that’s…” ***

The persistent blaring of the car horn awakened her from her stupor, the piercing noise causing pain to radiate from the gash in her temple to all areas of her skull. “Please stop,” she whispered, unsure to whom she was talking or even where she was. She finally managed to raise her head from the steering wheel and the noise blessedly stopped. A field? What in heaven’s name am I doing in a field?
She turned to look behind her and the fire radiating from her chest brought her to full wakefulness. I fainted, she realized. I fainted and the car ran off the road into the field and my foot fell off the gas pedal…Thank God. She could have easily run into a tree or, God forbid, another car. Obviously she was in no condition to be driving, so why was she?
The wedding! That’s right, she remembered, the wedding. John’s wedding to Kristen. Kristen’s final triumph. I can’t let it happen!! Noon today, she said. It can’t be noon yet, it can’t be! But if it wasn’t it was

getting closer to it. She had to get back on the road, get to St. Luke’s before the priest pronounced them husband and wife. Bracing herself, she gritted her teeth, forced her good hand to grip the steering wheel, and pressed down on the gas. The car began to roll forward, each rut of the earth jarring the car and causing agonizing waves of pain to cascade through Marlena’s body. She fought the urge to faint, repeating the mantra in her mind, Please, God, don’t let it be too late…Please, God…

***
“Belle? My God, Caroline, what’s the matter with her?” John stared at his small daughter, who’d finally stopped screaming and was now crying with great gasping sobs, tears running down her small face into the fur of the disreputable looking bunny she clutched tightly to her small chest. He crouched down next to her and placed his hand on her back. She opened her eyes and launched herself into his chest, her small arms twining about his neck in a hug so strong it threatened to strangle him. “Daddeee…”
Kristen gave him an exasperated look that he assumed had something to do with him seeing her in her wedding dress before the ceremony. “She doesn’t want to let go of the bunny.” That explanation didn’t seem to explain the depth of his daughter’s distress. “So? What difference does it make?” “John! She can’t walk down the aisle with that…rabbit in one hand and the flower basket in the other. Just look at it. It’s falling apart.”
He examined Big Bunny and had to admit that she had a point, but he didn’t see its relevance. Then what she had said finally hit him. “Flower basket? She’s the flower girl? Why didn’t you tell me?” Kristen shot him a mutinous look. “You *told* me to plan the wedding. You *told* me not to bother you with details. Of *course* she’s inthe wedding – so is Brady. They’re your children!”
He looked up from Belle’s miserable face and said a little angrily, “When I said not to bother me with details I did not mean my children! You can’t just throw them into a ceremony like this with no preparation.” He murmured something soothing to Belle. “Where’s Brady?” Caroline favored him with a worried look. “He’s sitting in the corner of Father Francis’ office and he won’t come out. He also won’t talk to me. I have no idea what is wrong.”

John stood up, cradling Belle against his chest. “I’ll talk to him…to them.” He turned toward Father Francis’ office, but stopped when Kristen put a hand on his shoulder. “John,” she said plaintively, “What about the wedding?” “It’ll have to wait until my children are all right,” he snapped, but immediately felt apologetic. Pre-wedding jitters could make anyone tense and unreasonable, and if he thought about it, her wanting them in the wedding was actually quite a nice gesture. “I’m sure it won’t take long, and then we’ll get married.” He tried to give her a bright smile. “What wedding ever starts on time, anyway?” ***

The blood streaming down from the newly reopened gash on her temple obscured the vision in her left eye, but the view from her right wasn’t much better. The doctor part of her dispassionately noted that it wasn’t likely that she would remain conscious for much longer…and without medical attention it wasn’t likely she would remain alive long after that. Get thee to a hospital, Doc, said the voice in her head, a voice that sounded charmingly like John’s. I can’t. I have to stop you from marrying Kristen.
You can’t stop me, the voice replied, suddenly transforming into the menacing, accented tones of Stefano DiMera. I will stop you! I did stop you! Confused, Marlena looked up to see the familiar street leading to St. Luke’s looming on the left. Years of driving to early morning mass in a semi-stupor were proving beneficial at this moment, as the car proceeded toward its destination with minimal direction. She idly noted the bank sign on the corner: First United, 85 degrees, 12:45. The significance of the time eluded her for a moment, but then…12:45! No, that’s wrong! I’m not too late! Please God…
***
John settled himself and Belle on the couch along the back wall of the office. He turned to look at Brady, who was, indeed, seated in the corner with a mutinous look on his face and a quivering lower lip that indicated he was close to tears. “Slugger?”
Brady looked down at the floor and crossed his arms. “Slugger…I’m not mad at you.” The little boy looked up. “I’m worried about you, son, you and your sister both. Please come over here and tell me what’s wrong.” Brady traced the faint pattern on the carpet in front of him with the tip of his tiny index finger. He cocked his head to the side to

admire the effect, a gesture so like one of Isabella’s that it caused John to catch his breath. He looked up at his father and said something softly, too softly for John to hear. “Son?”

“Where’s Momma?” The question, coming so soon after the gesture, startled John. “Don’t you remember, Slugger? Momma’s an angel in heaven. Remember the stars?” Brady slowly stood up and walked over to his father. He placed his left hand on his little sister’s leg and gripped John’s hand with his right. “Not my Momma. Belle’s Momma. She said she’d share.” “What?”
“Belle said she’d share her Momma with me, so we could both have one, like you’re our daddy.” John swallowed a lump in his throat. “When did the two of you decide this?” Brady shrugged. “Don’t remember. But Belle said I could call her Momma. Where is she? Is she an angel too?” “Oh, Slugger, no…she’s on a trip, remember? I told you and Belle about it. But she’s coming back, I promise. And she’ll be thrilled that you and Belle want to share her.”
Brady traced the crease on John’s pant leg, seemingly unsurprised that Marlena would want him. John smiled. His son certainly had a healthy sense of his own self-worth. “Is that what’s bothering the two of you? You miss Momma?.” Brady nodded solemnly. Belle lifted her head from the crook of John’s neck and said, “Momma” in an emphatic voice. His burdens revealed, Brady suddenly reverted to the active, squirming boy with whom John was so familiar. “I don’t like these clothes. They itch.”
“You know what Slugger? Mine do too. What do you think we should do about it?” Brady grinned and climbed up onto his lap. “Take ’em off!” “Do you understand why we’re all dressed up like this today?” Brady nodded. “You’re going to marry Kristen and my little brother or sister.” John laughed. “Yes, I guess that’s true enough.” Brady ducked his head and murmured something. John leaned forward to hear it. “You don’t want to come?” Brady shook his head. Isabella pushed herself up from John’s chest and copied her brother’s headshake. “Why not?”
They shrugged, unable to explain, but John really couldn’t see any reason to force them to go. They’d just be unhappy and disruptive, and, besides, they were too young to remember the ceremony, anyway. “We’ll have Mrs. Naughton take you home, then, okay?” He

was rewarded with two beaming smiles.

**
When Marlena finally saw the spires of St. Luke’s she felt like crying in relief. She’d made it! The parking lot was still full, which meant the ceremony wasn’t over. She was in time! Her excitement caused her to gun the motor, and her fading reflexes weren’t up to the obvious result. She crashed headlong into the car with JUST MARRIED written on it in shoe polish and cans trailing down the back. Her seat belt flapped uselessly at her side – the thought of it pressing on her shoulder had been to hideous to contemplate. She was thrown forward, her bruised and bleeding head crashing into the steering wheel, and once again, she sank into unconsciousness. **

John stood at the front of the church next to Bo and Abe, watching Hope, looking radiant, and Jennifer, looking elegant, proceed down the aisle as bridesmaids in opulent dresses reminiscent of the southern ball gowns worn at Maison Blanche. Don’t think about that, John! He realized he was still a little angry about the lavish ceremony, and about Kristen’s unreasonable reaction to the news that he’d decided to let the children go home. But Brady’s the ring bearer, she had argued. Bo and Jennifer are perfectly capable of carrying a couple of rings, he’d replied testily. Then, suddenly, as if recalling something important, Kristen had smiled brightly, agreed, and shooed him to the front of the church so they could begin the wedding.
He realized that he wasn’t feeling what he should be feeling as a groom waiting for his bride at the front of the church. As Kristen began her trip down the aisle on her brother’s arm he flashed on both Marlena and Isabella in their wedding gowns – Marlena, tall, statuesque, beautiful; Isabella, pregnant, radiant, glowing with excitement. He hadn’t lied to Bo; he remembered every moment of those ceremonies, every feeling, every nuance. So why was he having such a hard time concentrating now?
Kristen made her way slowly up the aisle, shoulders straight, head tall, a small triumphant smile on her face. I told you Marlena, she thought. I told you he was mine but you wouldn’t listen so I had to get rid of you. And now he’s about to become mine forever! She gazed at her beloved, strong and handsome, and above all, hers. She knew the

lavish ceremony had upset him, but she wasn’t about to let Marlena cheat her even a little bit in absentia. Today was the day all her dreams came true. When she reached the front of the church, she leaned in for Peter’s kiss, handed her flowers to Jenn, and turned to join hands with her soon-to-be-husband. ***

or the second time that day Marlena woke with a pounding headache and no idea where she was, but this time she awoke with a concussion. The view through the windshield swam in front of her eyes, out of focus and jumpy. She squeezed her eyes shut in concentration, trying hard to remember why she was there in that car with an agonizing headache and a chest afire. When she opened her eyes, the JUST MARRIED sign came briefly into focus. Oh, no you don’t, she thought. Mustering her last reserves and ignoring the screaming of her muscles when she even attempted movement, she finally managed to wrench open her door. She tumbled out of the car onto the ground, violently jarring her arm and sending screaming furies up her nerve endings.
She pulled herself up using the car door and her good arm – crawling probably would have been easier, but that really required two arms, and her left one was now totally useless. The front door of St. Luke’s loomed in front of her, all of ten feet away – and as good as 10 miles. John’s in there, she told herself. He’s in there and if you can just get to him and tell him he’ll understand and make it better and then you can rest.
Agonizing minutes later she reached the door, a door she had opened on countless Sundays without a thought and with very little effort. It seemed to weigh a million pounds. She leaned her back right side against it and braced herself with her legs. It began to open, inch by agonizing inch, and she could hear the murmuring of Father Jansen. The ceremony! They’ve started the ceremony! That thought provided the inspiration she needed to open the door the last few inches. She nearly collapsed on the floor as it gave way in front of her.
At the doorway to the back of the church she leaned against the doorjamb, her eyes drinking in the sight of John, standing tall and proud and alive (I knew you were lying, you bastard!) Father Jansen, the only one who could conceivably see her from his position,

concentrated on the Bible in front of him as he intoned the words she had been waiting to hear.

“If anyone has reason why these two should not be wed, speak now or forever hold your peace.” Marlena opened her mouth, but no sound came out. Exhaustion, dehydration, blood loss, and concussion all combined to rob her of speech. No! I didn’t come this far to fail! I’m here, John! I’m here!
John heard the ritual words through the buzzing in his ears and the overwhelming feeling in his heart that this was WRONG, that it shouldn’t be HAPPENING. He turned to look at Kristen, and suddenly a feeling washed over him that he’d felt only a few times in his life, an indescribable soul-deep connection that defied all explanation and logic, a feeling that had led him to take a midnight walk on a foggy pier for no good reason five years ago – a feeling that led to Doc. Slowly he turned around and was rewarded by the sight of her.
Marlena leaned heavily against the pew, eyes full of tears, gazing at John with all the fierce love and devotion that had sustained her throughout this long, horrible day. He drank in the sight of her beloved face, his smile of delight changing to one of horror as he saw the shredded crimson mass of her dress, the trail of blood leading from the front door of the church. As the rest of the church turned to see what had caught his attention, their gasps nearly drowned out the words she had come here to say, but John, attuned to her on levels beyond the physical, heard them.
In a low thready, voice she whispered, “I have a reason.” And then
she slid bonelessly to the floor.
Chapter 3
“Where the *hell* is the ambulance, Mike?” John looked up from the lifeless form of Marlena cradled in his lap, expecting to see the concerned face of Mike Horton staring back at him, surprised instead to see Father Jansen. “Sorry, Father, it’s just that-”
“No need to explain, John. I understand your worry.” He looked up at the ring of shocked, murmuring people surrounding the fallen woman. “Perhaps if I led everyone in a prayer service…and got them out of Doctor Horton’s way?” Mike looked up from where he was attempting to stem the flow of blood from the wound on Marlena’s back. “Thanks, Father, that would be a great help. She needs room and air.” John

turned to look at him, exasperated. “She needs an *ambulance*!!”

“It’s on the way, John…and it hasn’t been that long. Here, turn her toward me…” Mike was silent for a moment as he worked, but then began an emotionless recitation of her injuries. “She suffered a bullet wound to the upper back; it went clear through – looks like it just missed the heart and major arteries – good thing, too, because she never would have made it here, otherwise. Another bullet wound to the temple, fairly deep, but could have been worse. She has a concussion, possibly as a result of the wound, or perhaps another blow to the head. The injuries weren’t life threatening at the time of occurrence – prompt medical attention and she would have been fine with time.”
“What are you saying, Mike? How long ago did this happen?” “My guess would be between three and four hours, judging from the amount of blood loss. I didn’t have any trouble stopping the bleeding, but I’m afraid that’s because she doesn’t have much blood left to lose.” “John!” John looked up at Abe’s shout to see him and Bo running back into the church. The stricken expressions on their faces told John they didn’t have good news. “We found the car she must have driven – God knows how. It’s crashed into yours – both are a total loss, I’m afraid. We looked inside of hers…” he paused, as if to brace himself, “There’s a great deal of blood on the floor and some on the steering wheel…I really don’t see how she managed to stay conscious.”
John swallowed with difficulty. “Did you see anyone else outside? How did she get the car? How did she get away? He had her in a cage…I can’t believe he would have shot her – He thinks he *loves* her!” “We don’t know Stefano did this, John.” “Of course he did,” John snapped. “Or he knows who did – same thing. The point is, this wouldn’t have happened if he hadn’t kidnapped her.”
Abe grimaced in agreement and turned to Mike. “How is she?” “Very weak, and getting more so. There’s only so much I can do. She needs a hospital right now.” John bent low over Marlena, meticulously avoiding jarring her injuries as he held her close, stroking her hair. He kissed her on the temple, carefully, on the opposite side of the gash on her head. “Come on Doc…You can do it. You got this far…Stay with me.” Tears streamed down his face. “Don’t leave me, Doc. Please…” ***

Kristen stared at the picture of her fiancee cradling his ex-wife and could barely contain a frustrated scream. From her vantage point next to the altar she couldn’t hear what he was saying – but she could guess. I love you, Doc. Don’t leave me. We’ll be together forever. I love only you.

An arm snaked around her shoulders, startling her. She turned quickly, “Peter, dammit, you startled me!” “Sorry.” He stared at John and Marlena for a moment. “How is she?” “I have no idea, and I don’t care,” she whispered vehemently. “Kristen!” came the shocked voice of her mother, and Kristen rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Don’t worry, mother, I’m sure Marlena will be fine.” “Why do you say that, Krissy?” Peter asked. “She looks pretty bad to me.”
“Because I don’t have that kind of luck, that’s why,” Kristen muttered angrily. “She got all the way here from wherever Stefano was holding her, just in time to make a grand, bloody, entrance precisely at the right moment during the ceremony…of course she won’t die now! She’ll wake up, tell John everything that I did, and I’ll lose him!” She swiped her hand at her tears of frustration. “I can’t believe this…just *ten* more minutes…”
Rachel turned sad eyes toward her daughter. “It wouldn’t matter if she had arrived later and you and Johnny were married. As soon as he finds out what you’ve done he’ll leave you…It’s probably better this way.” She spotted Laura across the room, an anguished expression on her face as she watched her son labor to save her friend. “I must help Laura” Kristen and Peter watched her go, Kristen with an angry expression on her face. “You know, Peter, I was really happy when we found out our mother was alive…but she hasn’t been much of a mother to us since.”
Peter looked at her doubtfully. “Come on, Krissy, if she had wanted to blow us out of the water she’s had plenty of opportunities.” Kristen shot him a mutinous look. “I’m her daughter. I’m carrying her first grandchild. And all she can think about is *Marlena*. What *Marlena* wants. What *Marlena* needs. That’s all anyone can think about! Especially John…”
They watched in silence as the ambulance attendants gently transferred Marlena to the stretcher and bore her out of the building, John and Mike following closely at their heels, the rest of the wedding

guests not far behind. “He didn’t say goodbye…He didn’t even look at

me. She’s back, and it’s like I don’t even exist anymore.” Kristen
turned and buried her head in her brother’s chest. “Oh, Peter, what am
I going to do?”
***
Carrie carried the tray of coffee into the waiting room, idly noting that no one had moved since she’d left ten minutes ago. She hadn’t really wanted coffee, but she’d wanted even less to remain in that room engaged in what felt uncomfortably akin to a deathwatch. “Coffee’s here,” she announced, voice echoing loudly in the silence. Austin came over and silently helped her pass it out. John stared blankly at the cup she held out to him, and then returned his stare to the door of the operating room, as if his gaze could cause it to open and make the doctor emerge with good news. Carrie shrugged, put the coffee back on the tray, and returned to her seat on the couch next to Austin. “Any news?” she whispered.
“No…Bo and Hope went to tell Sami.” He looked uncomfortable with the subject of Carrie’s sister. “They’re going to baby-sit Will and Belle and Brady. Shawn and Caroline encouraged everyone else to leave; they promised to call if there’s any news. John hasn’t said anything at all.” They turned to look at his motionless figure. “He looks pretty wiped…and I think that tux is a total loss.” “John won’t care about that,” Carrie said confidently, “but Kristen might…Did you see her after Marlena fainted? She didn’t look concerned…it was more like…I don’t know, annoyed, maybe.” Austin shot her a doubtful look. “Well, it did sort of screw up Kristen’s wedding.”
“Maybe.” Carrie was silent for a moment. “I guess it’s John’s reaction I find the most interesting.” She looked down and idly stirred her coffee. “I remember…God, was it ten years ago?…I remember before Marlena disappeared the first time, when Stefano held her prisoner for five years and we thought she was dead…A horrible man named Orpheus had blown up our house, and everyone believed Marlena was inside when it blew…and John had to tell me Marlena was dead…I remember him saying ‘She’s gone, Punkin.’ And I said, ‘What do you mean, gone? Kidnapped?'” She gave Austin a rueful smile. “I guess that’s sort of a revealing commentary on my childhood. Anyway, he told me she was dead and I freaked out…He was hugging me and trying to tell

me that we were going to be okay, but I could tell he didn’t believe it. His eyes were totally empty…” She turned to look at John, “…Just like they are right now.”

Austin squeezed her hand sympathetically. “But Marlena wasn’t dead then, and she isn’t going to die now – You have to believe that.” He was silent for a moment. “I thought…never mind.” Carrie looked at him curiously. “What?” He shook his head. “Come on, Austin, ask me. It’s okay, really. Anything to keep me from counting the number of ugly yellow linoleum tiles over and over again.” He smiled. “Okay…I remember you saying something before about Stefano using a plane crash to kidnap Marlena once before…but you just said house explosion…and I was just curious -”
“Curious how many different ways Marlena has disappeared from our lives?” Austin winced. “Sorry,” she said, “It’s just that I’m really tired of it, you know? I wish all these nuts would leave my family alone.” She took a deep breath. “Okay, beginning at the beginning…see, my dad – my real dad – he first met Stefano here, in Salem, when he was a cop. He tried to take Stefano down because he knew that he was a bigtime criminal. That’s how Stefano met Marlena, through Dad. Anyway, some weird stuff ended up going down on one of Stefano’s many islands, and he and my dad fought each other up on a cliff, and Stefano pushed my dad off – Uncle Bo saw the whole thing and found my dad’s body, but after he went to get some help and came back, Dad was gone. We all believed he was dead.” She fell silent for a moment, remembering the horrible pain she’d felt at the loss of her father.
“Then Stefano decided to go after Marlena – I guess that’s really when his obsession with having her for himself started. He kidnapped the twins, but Uncle Bo managed to find and rescue them. Then Marlena confronted him in the old Salem ice rink…don’t ask,” she added at his perplexed look. “Anyway, they were up on a catwalk and the place was on fire…he was going on and on about how they would be together forever…and Marlena shot him.” Austin looked shocked. “Marlena? Shot him? On purpose?”
Carrie smiled tightly. “Yeah. I guess she was tired of his games and his obsession…and she hated him for what he had done to Dad. He fell off the catwalk – and everyone assumed he was dead. Of course

he wasn’t,” she said ironically. “That’s why they call him the phoenix.” “I guess so,” Austin replied, “I mean, he’s been presumed dead *twice* just since I’ve been in town.”

“I don’t think anyone should believe Stefano is dead unless they’ve driven a stake through his heart,” she stated vehemently. Austin gave her an odd look, but didn’t interrupt. “Marlena went on trial for his murder – but the prosecutor finally admitted during the trial that she shouldn’t go to jail, and the judge threw out the case. Everyone thought the whole Stefano thing was over.” She turned her gaze to John, who sat on the couch across from theirs, head buried in his hands, and she smiled softly. “Then an amnesiac stranger calling himself John Black showed up in town…”
“You mean he went by the name John Black before everyone though he was Roman Brady? I thought that was his real name…I mean, the name he went by when he became a priest, after he stopped being Forrest Alamain.” Austin frowned. “So if he knew his name when he had amnesia…”
“He didn’t know it, really – he told me later that he saw it on a plaque on the wall and chose it on the spur of the moment. Maybe he felt some kind of connection to it – or, maybe it was just some great cosmic coincidence.” She shrugged. “It’s not really that uncommon a name.” “Still…that *was* quite a coincidence.”
“Yeah…” She was silent for a moment, then continued with her story. “Marlena helped him try to overcome his amnesia, once he admitted to her that he had it. He kept having weird flashes about people he’d meet and places he’d go…Eventually he began to suspect who he was.” “You mean he began to think he was Roman.” She laughed quietly. “No, I mean he began to think he was Stefano.” Austin laughed, “You’re kidding!” He studied her face, then sobered. “You’re not kidding.”
“Nope. Have you ever seen the tattoo on John’s back? It’s a phoenix, Stefano’s crest. I guess he branded John with it when he held him at Maison Blanche the first time. But it made John and Marlena think he might be Stefano. Marlena really freaked out, but by that time they were on the run and John wouldn’t let her go…Anyway, a lot of stuff happened, but I was too young for anyone to tell me at the time, and I haven’t demanded any specifics since, but the upshot is, Marlena

thought she found proof that he was Roman Brady in the records of the plastic surgeon who supposedly altered his looks. And they were both thrilled, because they were in love with each other.”

“You mean they fell in love before they thought he was Roman?” “Yes…” She looked at John consideringly. “You know, I’ve always wondered if anyone ever told my dad that.” Austin looked puzzled. “What do you mean?” Carrie shrugged. “It’s just that after Dad came back he acted like John and Marlena being married had never happened – like it was just a result of them wrongly thinking John was Roman – and once it was revealed that he wasn’t – POOF all their feelings for each other were gone.” She stared into her coffee. “Obviously *that* wasn’t true.”
“So John/Roman and Marlena got married…” She smiled. “Yes. I was the flower girl. It was a beautiful wedding…St. Luke’s was all done up in white flowers…” She stopped, then laughed. “I never thought about it, but John *always* gets married in St. Luke’s. Pretty bizarre considering he once took a vow of celibacy.”
“Anyway,” she continued, “Not long after they were married, Marlena was kidnapped again. This time John thought it was a man named Orpheus out for revenge on him for something he’d done while he was an agent for the ISA.” She frowned. “Something *Roman* had done, I mean. Oh, whatever… the end result was that Orpheus’ wife had died and he blamed John…Roman for it. But Orpheus didn’t have Marlena at that point, the ISA did.”
“What?” Carrie laughed bitterly. “Yeah, the wonderful, helpful ISA. They took Marlena to force John to remember where he’d…where Roman had hidden some treasury bonds a long time ago…” She looked at Austin’s confused expression and sighed. “It doesn’t matter…John got her back from both the ISA and Orpheus and brought her home to Salem. They decided it was best to get out of town while the authorities looked for Orpheus, because Orpheus had sworn to make John feel the pain *he* had felt when he lost *his* wife. So we were supposed to go on a skiing trip…The twins and I were at the Fish Market waiting, and John was putting the skis on top of the car when the house…the house exploded…”
Austin whistled softly. “Wow.” “I know what you mean. Anyway, Dad – I mean John – found out a little later that Marlena was still alive and

being held captive by Orpheus and forced to play mother to his kids, and he went after her. But before he could get to her, Orpheus sent her off on a plane…a plane that crashed into the ocean.”

“I get it…a plane crash that Stefano rescued her from.” “I guess. After she came back Marlena didn’t remember anything about it…and John had killed Orpheus in self-defense so *he* wasn’t any help…and of course, Stefano would never tell *anyone* the real story. So how she got from the plane to Stefano’s island has remained a mystery.” She stared off into the distance. “I don’t suppose it really matters now.” Austin covered her hand with his, and she leaned against his shoulder. The waiting room was silent except for the ticking of the clock on the wall. The minutes crept by, until John could stand it no more and jumped to his feet. “That’s it! I’m going to-”
But they didn’t find out what it was he would have done, because the
operating room door opened, and Dr. Horton came out, his scrubs
covered in blood.
Chapter 4
Samantha Brady surveyed her new living room in satisfaction. Everything in its place; everything the way she wanted it; everything perfect. She frowned. Except for Austin…
As if summoned by her thoughts, a knock sounded at the door. Smiling, she put her laundry basket down on the couch, smoothed her hair, and went to answer the door. She was slightly taken aback to see, not her baby’s father as she’d expected, but her uncle and aunt, dressed to the nines in tux and ballgown, carrying a sleeping Brady and Belle. Bo waited in silence for a moment, and when it became obvious she wasn’t going to say anything, asked, “Can we come in?” She shrugged and waved her hand toward the couch. “Sure, why not?”
Hope stepped carefully around the stack of boxes next to the door, balancing Belle on one hip and taking Brady from Bo with the opposite arm. “Is Will here?” “Yes…I just put him down.” Hope smiled. “Well, why don’t I take these two to join him? Your Uncle Bo needs to talk to you.” Samantha watched her aunt disappear into Will’s room and turned a wary eye on her uncle. “Well?”
He averted his eyes and pointed toward the couch. “Mind if I sit down?” She narrowed her eyes. “No…Mind if I fold my laundry?” “Go

ahead.” He sat silently for a few moments, twirling his bow tie around and around with one hand. Sami began to stack Will’s jumpers on the coffee table. “So..” she asked casually, “How was the wedding?”

He looked relieved that she had spoken first. “Actually, there wasn’t one…I mean, there was, but it didn’t exactly go as planned.” Sami looked at him expectantly. “You see…umm…when the priest asked everyone to speak now or forever hold their peace…well, someone spoke.” He looked frustrated, as if that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Sami laughed. “Maybe it isn’t such a good idea for Bradys to get married in St. Luke’s. It never seems to go off as planned…I mean, John and Kristen, Austin and Carrie, you and Billie…” Her voice trailed off, and she frowned at the expression on his face. “Come on, Uncle Bo, you didn’t come over here just to tell me that. And why do *you* have Belle and Brady? I thought Grandma and Grandpa would take care of them while John and Kristen were on their honeymoon…until Mom got back from her conference, anyway.” She tried but could not keep the note of bitterness out of her voice. Bo glanced at her sharply, then returned his gaze to the coffee table.
“This has to do with your mom…” He took a deep breath. “Your mother never went to a psychiatric conference, Sami.” Sami looked confused. “I thought…” “I know. That’s what John wanted everyone to think. He thought it was better than telling everyone the truth and worrying them when there was nothing they could do.”
Bo reached out to touch her hand but she pulled away and stood up, folding her arms in front of her as she walked toward the window. She gazed out into the sunlight, and asked in a light, carefully controlled, determinedly unconcerned voice, “So, if she wasn’t at a conference on crazy people…then where was she?”
“Stefano kidnapped her…hijacked her plane, actually.” Sami’s shoulders slumped, and Bo got up to go to her, but she took a deep breath and turned around to face him. “And?” “And the plane exploded…but she wasn’t on it,” he added hurriedly. “John never believed that she was, and he convinced the rest of us. He’s been trying to get her back for weeks.” Sami scowled. “Weeks? She’s been kidnapped for *weeks* and he never told me? Who does he think he is? He’s not my father. He had no right…” “Stop it, Sami.” He made a sharp cutting motion with his hand. “This isn’t the right time to get into

that. He was doing what he thought was best for everyone involved.” She rolled her eyes. “He was, was he? Does that include taking a little time out for a wedding and a honeymoon while an *insane* man holds my mother prisoner?” “They had their reasons for having the wedding. And they weren’t going to go on a honeymoon. Kristen planned the whole wedding herself because John was so busy looking for Marlena.” He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “Look, Sami, that isn’t important right now. What’s important is that your mother escaped. Actually, she was the one who interrupted the wedding.” He cleared his throat. “She fainted.”

Sami tried to stifle a short burst of bitter laughter. “Why? Was she
pregnant, too?” His steady gaze unnerved her, and her sardonic smile
faded. “What? What is it? What aren’t you telling me?” “Your mom
didn’t faint because she was pregnant, Sami…She fainted because
she was shot.”
***
Kristen paused at the door of the waiting room to regain her composure. You’re concerned, Kristen, she told herself, Concerned about the health of your ‘good friend’ Marlena. It doesn’t matter to you that she screwed up your wedding…your LIFE… She took a deep breath and counted to ten. Damage control, girl,…you only get one chance at this.
Mike held up his hands as John, Carrie, Austin, Shawn and Caroline converged around him. “She’s alive.” He waited out the small storm of relieved emotion that this news occasioned. “We’ve repaired the injuries due to bullet wounds. We won’t know how severe her concussion is until she wakes up, but in the mean time, I’ve ordered a CAT scan. Our main concern was replenishing her blood supply. We started her on transfusions immediately upon arrival. In fact, she’s still receiving transfusions now that she’s out of the operating room.”
John wiped relieved tears from his eyes. “Where is she now? Can we see her?” “She’s being moved to a private room – room 343, upstairs. And you can go see her in a minute…but I have something else to tell you first.”
Kristen tuned out the doctor’s voice as she backed out of the doorway and sagged against the wall. She had felt her last hope disappear with the words “She’s alive.” I really have lost him for good now. When

Marlena wakes up she’ll tell him everything. When she wakes up she’ll turn him against me. When she wakes up… Kristen slowly pushed herself away from the wall, a speculative gleam appearing in her eye. If she wakes up… She spared one glance for the family back in the waiting room, then turned and walked toward the bank of elevators at the end of the hall.

John could barely contain his impatience to see Marlena. “What is it, Mike?” The doctor motioned them toward the couches. “When we brought Marlena in, it was necessary to begin blood transfusions immediately, so we called up her computer records and got her blood type from them.” He noticed their confused expressions and explained, “That isn’t standard procedure right now. A few months ago a computer hacker got into our system and messed up some of the files, so now, even when we have blood type on record, we type and cross-match just to be sure. But I didn’t know if we had the time to wait in Marlena’s case.”
John frowned. “Are you saying the blood type in the computer was incorrect?” “Not at all – but a bad reaction could have proven fatal, so I told the internist to run a check on her clothing, just to make sure. I didn’t want to draw any more blood from her.” He smiled painfully. “She needed all that she had left.” Still puzzled, John looked at the others and saw they didn’t understand any better than he did. “I don’t get it. Why are you telling us this?”
Mike took a deep breath. “The blood on her dress…it isn’t all hers.” “What?!?” “It’s all her blood *type*, but it isn’t all hers. Some of the other blood factors show that the blood on her clothing came from two different people.” He rubbed his hands together. “In a way, it was a relief – it meant Marlena hadn’t lost quite as much blood as we thought.” “Then why don’t you look relieved?”
“Well, if you remember, Marlena’s blood type is rare.” He looked steadily at John. “In fact, a few years ago when she needed a transfusion, our supply was very low and we had a hard time finding a donor.” He watched comprehension dawn on John’s face. “Stefano!…Stefano donated blood to her.” He turned a shocked look to the rest of the family. Mike nodded. “That’s right…so I looked up those records to make sure.” He took a deep breath. “And now I am sure…the blood on Marlena’s dress…the blood that isn’t hers…belongs

to Stefano DiMera.”

***
Kristen looked warily out of the window of the door to Marlena’s room and sighed in relief. No one had seen her enter. She turned to look at the sleeping woman on the bed, idly running her gaze over the IVs that provided her with blood and nourishment, the respirator that provided oxygen. Marlena looked pale and fragile lying there on the bed. She didn’t look threatening at all. But Kristen knew how misleading that appearance was. Because the woman on the bed was the most dangerous woman in the world. The woman on the bed had the power to destroy her.
Why did you have to come back here? she thought angrily. I was perfectly content to let you live with Stefano. He loved you. He would have given you anything! Kristen picked up the extra pillow from the chair next to the bed and punched it in frustration. Why couldn’t you be satisfied with that? Why did you have to want MY life? It was MINE. I EARNED it! I DESERVED it! I deserve HIM. I’m having his baby. And he loves me…I KNOW he does.
She began to pace up and down the floor, pounding the pillow to emphasize the points she made in her one-sided conversation. “I had the right to protect myself. I had the right to hide that letter! I didn’t really do anything to keep John from telling you how he felt…if he had wanted to. Obviously he didn’t.” She turned abruptly toward the bed. “And *you* didn’t tell him how *you* felt…you, the epitome of truth and honesty.” She laughed derisively. “And you called *me* a liar…”
Suddenly Kristen shoulders slumped, and her voice died to a whisper. “But John won’t see it that way, will he? John will believe *you*. He’ll trust *you*. The one person who ‘never let him down, never stopped believing in him.'” She looked up at the ceiling. “God, am I tired of hearing that!” She bunched the pillow up in frustration. “No, if you tell him what I did, he’ll leave me. There’s nothing I can say that will stop that. If you tell him…” Her voice trailed off, and she stared at the pillow in her hands as if seeing it for the first time. She gripped it convulsively, then speculatively, and repeated softly, “If you tell him…” She leaned over the bed and stared at Marlena’s sleeping figure. The moments crept by as indecision and decision waged a battle in her eyes. Finally the conflict ended…and Kristen slowly raised the pillow…

Chapter 5

Kristen stared at the figure of Marlena, sleeping quietly on the bed in front of her. She held the pillow above her head, prepared to administer a killing blow – to smother the unconscious, helpless woman before her. Some fading remnant of a once vital conscience gave one last faint cry – in the anguished voice of her mother – Kristen, DON’T!! The pillow wavered. I have to! cried Kristen, whether to her mother or herself, she wasn’t sure. I have to protect myself and my baby!
The pillow resumed its descent.
***
“I can’t believe this.” John stared at Mike, shock and disbelief flashing across his face. “Are you absolutely sure that the blood on Doc is Stefano’s?” Mike nodded, a sympathetic frown on his face. “We ran the test twice – it’s his, no question. I suppose the next thing to do would be to examine the blood in the car and see if any of it is his as well.”
Carrie turned to John, puzzled and upset. “This doesn’t make any sense, John. If some of that blood is Stefano’s…then he was hurt, too. But she was *his* prisoner. If he didn’t shoot her…Who could have shot them both?” John shook his head. “Well, I don’t think we can necessarily assume that they were injured by the same person. But Stefano has a lot of enemies…maybe one of them shot him and Doc was just in the way.”
“But no one knew where he was,” Austin pointed out. Caroline agreed with John. “*We* didn’t know where he was – but he was hiding from John. Somebody else could have found him…Someone who didn’t know who Marlena was, someone who might have thought she worked with him…or someone who didn’t care who got hurt, as long as Stefano did.” An expression of revelation came over John’s face, then disappeared – but Shawn saw it. “What is it, son?”
John looked at each of them in turn, speculation warring with his desire not to upset them any further. He took a deep breath. “Maybe…maybe Marlena shot him…maybe she was willing to die if she could kill him.” Shocked silence reigned; then Carrie half-laughed, half-sobbed, “I can’t believe that, John. Not Marlena.”
He reached over and took her hand. “I know it’s hard for you to

understand, Punkin. You don’t know what it feels like to be under his control, totally incapable of helping yourself.” Disagreement flashed in her eyes, and he remembered her own ordeal at the hands of Stefano. “Or maybe you do – but you were a child, depending on me to get you away from him.” He smiled sadly at her. “You believed your father could do anything, rescue anyone…Marlena can’t believe that anymore. She spent five years away from her children because I couldn’t protect her.” “That’s not fair, John,” Carrie protested. “You thought she was dead…*everyone* thought she was dead.”

He looked down and tightly clenched his fists. “Maybe she thought we believed it this time, too…She told me once that she would rather die than ever be his prisoner again.” He slowly raised his eyes to meet those of the daughter he’d always loved. “Maybe she decided to take the risk.” Tears streamed down Carrie’s cheeks, but when she spoke, her voice was angry and defiant. “Well, she *isn’t* going to die! And I hope you’re right. I hope she did kill Stefano DiMera! And I hope he felt a terrible lot of pain before he died.” Shawn reached over to place his hand on Carrie’s shoulder. “Oh, Carrie, darlin’…” She gave him a mutinous look. “I mean it, Grandpa. I hope he’s dead.”
John held up his hand to forestall any further conversation. “We’ll know soon enough. When Marlena wakes up – and she *will* – she can tell us everything that happened.” He waited for their nods of agreement. “And then we’ll go on from there.” ***

“What are you doing here?”
Kristen started, convulsively snatching the pillow from mere inches above Marlena’s face back to her own chest. She plastered a rather wan smile on her face and began to plump the pillow as she turned to face Marlena’s visitor. “Sami…I didn’t hear you come in.”
Sami gave Kristen a strange look, then shrugged. “I came to see Mom.” She slowly walked toward the bed and peered cautiously around Kristen at Marlena’s still white form, eyes widening as they took in the array of tubes and machines to which her mother was attached. “How is she?”
Kristen laughed shakily. “I don’t know…I haven’t seen the doctor. I was…looking for John.” She held up her hands, the pillow hanging limply from her left. “I thought he’d be here.” Sami’s mouth twisted

bitterly. “Yeah.” Then she brightened, smiled slyly, and said in a sardonic voice, “I heard about your wedding – pretty rough luck. I guess Mom learned something at Austin and Carrie’s wedding after all.”

Kristen’s smile was bright but brittle. “It doesn’t matter. I’m just glad Marlena’s all right. And the nice thing is, the next time we get married she can be there.” Sami regarded her dubiously. “Uh-huh.” They stared at each other for a moment, then Sami cleared her throat. “If you don’t mind…I bet John and everyone are with the doctor. You could go and find them.” Kristen looked nervously back toward the bed. “No, that’s all right…I mean, I could wait with Marlena if you want to go and find out about her condition.” “No thanks. I just…want to sit with her a minute.”
Kristen hesitated but couldn’t think of anything to say that would get Sami out of the room. She ground her teeth in frustration; her one chance was slipping away because of this blasted girl – Marlena’s *daughter*, of course! “All right…I’ll just go find John and see what the doctors say.” Sami watched Kristen as she left the room, a suspicious frown on her face. “You sure have some weird friends, Mom.” She turned back toward the bed, dismissing Kristen after one last glance. “If she is your friend…”
Sami pulled the chair up next to the bed and sat down. She stared at her mother’s hand lying limply on the blanket, and slowly, tentatively reached out to cup it in her own. Tears filled her eyes, but she pressed her lips together to keep them from falling, inhaled deeply, and forced herself to look into her mother’s face. She sat watching Marlena breathe for a moment, suddenly at a loss for words.
Finally she let out a strangled laugh. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m here, huh? It’s crazy…Uncle Bo told me you were hurt…and it was like nothing mattered but coming here.” She gripped Marlena’s hand more tightly as if in a plea for understanding. “I didn’t know, Mom. I swear I didn’t. John didn’t tell anyone. I thought you were at some psychiatry conference.” She looked away, ashamed. “No…that’s not right.” She turned back to her mother, suddenly grimly determined to tell the truth. “I didn’t think about you. The whole time Stefano had you
– in a *cage*, Uncle Bo said – that whole time all I thought about was myself, and how I could get Austin back.” The tears finally began to

spill over. “I should have known something was wrong. You didn’t call about the custody hearing. You didn’t come back and yell at me for what I did to Carrie and Austin.” She swiped at her tears with her free hand. “I just let my anger at you take over again, and I convinced myself you didn’t give a damn.”

Sami sighed and reached up to smooth Marlena’s hair. “How long have I been angry at you, Mom? It seems like forever.” I know thought the woman on the bed.
Oblivious to the internal reactions of the unconscious woman in front of her, Sami continued her monologue. “I was thinking on the way here about how long it’s been since our family was really, truly happy.” She sniffed and wiped her eyes. “I guess we’d have to go all the way back to before Stefano kidnapped Daddy.” She lowered her voice and shut her eyes. “You know what, Mom? I don’t remember that. I remember daddy ‘dying’. I remember you telling us that he was gone, and I remember being really really sad for a long time. But before that, when we were a family…I don’t remember that.”
She shook her head. “When you came back, we were so happy, because we did remember *you*…” she grinned, “and Daddy…I mean John…used to let us dress up in your clothes and jewelry, and he told us great stories about you.” Her smile faded. “Stories that weren’t even his memories to tell.”
Sami paused for a moment, then looked back up at her mother, eyes thoughtful. “But some were, I guess – the ones from after he came, and we thought he was our father – when you were married. I bet you thought I didn’t remember that, but I do. Especially that one birthday party, do you remember?” She laced her fingers through Marlena’s, held on tightly, and laughed. “Our Star Wars belated birthday. Grandma and Grandpa gave us a party with our friends on our birthday because the ISA had kidnapped you and Daddy was off looking for you. But after he got you back we had a make-up party and you and Da-…John…you and John gave us the Star Wars trilogy on tape and we dressed up like all the characters…You were Princess Leia with her bun-ears, and John was Han Solo, using your hair dryer as a blaster, and Eric was Darth Vader, and Carrie was…um..Chewbacca, wearing your fake fur coat, and I was the robots – you let me wear that gold dress of yours and I painted the

trash can blue and white to make it look like R2-D2.” She giggled. “And we persuaded you to let us stay up and watch the movies and act them out, but Eric and I fell asleep during the second one…” Her smile faded and a haunted look came into her eyes. “And a few weeks later, you were gone.” She leaned over to rest her cheek on Marlena’s outstretched hand. “Eric made us watch those movies every week for months after you were gone. Like he thought they’d bring you back or something. I can’t even watch them now…they seem so sad to me.” Sami sighed. “Oh, Mom, how did everything change so much? How did it all get so awful?”

The woman on the bed did not stir, but inside she was crying. I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m so sorry.
***
Kristen peered around the corner at the door to Marlena’s room, let out a frustrated sigh, then leaned back against the wall. How long is that girl going to stay in there? She didn’t have two words to say to Marlena before she was kidnapped – What’s so damned important now? Kristen knew her last chance would come when Sami left the room, if only the girl would do it soon. Her earlier indecision had hardened into diamond-bright resolve. She has to die! There isn’t any other way. If only that damn girl would leave… “Kristen?”
Kristen jumped. She slowly turned around to see John, Carrie, and Mike staring at her quizzically. “Hi, honey,” she stammered. “I was just waiting here for you…um, Sami’s in with Marlena now.” John, distracted, muttered, “Well, that’s good…but how did you know what her room number was?” Kristen was spared having to answer because he immediately rounded on Mike. “Dammit, Mike, no one is supposed to know she’s here. Abraham’s arranging some protection, but in the meantime…”
“In the meantime she’ll never be alone, John,” Mike replied patiently. “I promise.” He smiled, “She’s pretty important to us, too, you know.” John nodded and clapped Mike on the back. “I know, sorry, sorry…I’ve just been so worried for so long.”
“I understand.” Mike looked down at his chart. “The rest of my tests will have to wait until she wakes up. We won’t know the severity and effects of the head injury until we talk to her.” He held up his hand to forestall their questions. “I’m very optimistic though. But do me – and

Marlena – a favor. One visitor at a time, okay?”

They nodded and watched as he walked down the hallway. Carrie reached for John and he enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug, squeezed his eyes tight and sent a quick thank-you prayer up to God. “She’s going to be all right, Punkin…She’s going to be all right.” Neither of them saw the anger on Kristen’s face, but, Sami, leaving Marlena’s room, saw it and wondered at it.
Then she spied John and Carrie and her eyes hardened. Sensing her presence, John opened his eyes and let go of Carrie. “Hey, Sami…how’s your mom?” She folded her arms across her chest, awkward and glaring. “I was just coming to find the doctor to ask that. She’s asleep right now.” Carrie angled her head up at John. “Do you mind if I go in now? Just for a minute…I know you want to see her, but-” “No, it’s okay,” he said, still watching Sami. “You go ahead. I want to talk to your sister.”
Carrie gave his arm a last squeeze, smiled distractedly at Kristen and disappeared into Marlena’s room. Sami stood where she was, defiance in her angry glare and rigid stance. “You had no right to keep this from us,” she said fiercely. “We’re her *family*. We had a right to know!”
A thousand replies went through his mind – I didn’t want to worry you, frighten you – I didn’t want you to believe your mother was dead – I thought you had enough to deal with – but standing there, looking into the stricken face of the girl who had once thought him the greatest man in the world, he no longer felt he had the right to say them. He just stared at her, silently, sorrowfully, and then said simply, “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Surprise covered her features and the defiance drained out of her face, leaving only pain and bewilderment behind. John took a tentative step toward her and held out his arms. Sami hesitated, but then slowly walked forward into his embrace. He rested his chin on top of her head and whispered, “It’s going to be okay, Sami – Your mom’s going to be okay.” She closed her eyes and hugged him tighter.
Kristen, watching from a few feet away, clenched her fists and silently
swore.
Chapter 6
Carrie solemnly studied the features of the woman who had been

more of a mother to her than her own for most of her life. “You look good,” she whispered, “Pale, but good.” She smoothed the covers around Marlena’s shoulders and straightened the edges of the blanket, willing herself not to cry. “When John told me Stefano had you again…I couldn’t believe it. I thought…it’s starting again – all the madness – and I can’t STAND it!” She laughed hollowly. “Pretty self-centered, huh? Thinking about me at a time like that…but I just couldn’t handle losing you again. I’ve lost too many people too many times.” She turned to look out the window of the door of the room, where she could just make out John and Sami holding each other, and said quietly, “Sometimes even when they’re here they’re gone.”

Carrie turned back to Marlena and smiled brightly, determined to maintain a cheerful, conversational tone. She’d learned as a candy-striper to assume that unconscious patients could hear you, and she wanted to do her best for Marlena. “Austin was here earlier, but he went home to see Will. Wait ’til you see him. He’s an absolutely gorgeous baby, and he’s getting so big! You’ll hardly recognize him.” She bit her lip. “Sorry.” She looked down at the bright ring on her hand. “We’re back together, you know… After we found out what Sami…after it happened, you were the first person I wanted to tell – but I wanted to tell you in person and see your face light up. You always rooted for us to get back together…” She was silent for a moment. “Austin asked me to marry him again. And you know what? This time you *will* be my matron of honor.”
Carrie sat down next to the bed and took Marlena’s hand in hers. “I know what you’ll say…you’ll want me to forgive Sami, to try to understand – you’ll remind me of how close we used to be.” Tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill over. “It won’t happen, Marlena. It’s too late, and too much has happened. Somewhere along the way we took a wrong turn and we can’t go back.” Her voice became almost inaudible. “I’m so sorry…because I can remember how close we were too…”
Oh, Carrie, Marlena thought.
***
Sami held close to John for another moment, then gently pushed away, wiping her eyes. “What did the doctor say? John led her over to the couch in the waiting area outside Marlena’s room. Kristen watched

them for a moment, angered that they didn’t seem to even register her presence. Exhausted, she walked over to the nurses station and leaned against the counter.

John sat down next to Sami and put his hand on her knee comfortingly. “Mike is very optimistic, Sami. They repaired all the damage the bullets did, and he thinks the head injury isn’t that serious. She lost a lot of blood, but the transfusions are taking care of that. She’s exhausted, but sleep will help. The important thing is, she’s alive, she’s going to be all right…and she got away from Stefano.”
Sami looked away and said softly, regretfully, “I can’t believe he had her all that time and I didn’t feel it – I didn’t even have a clue!” “Sami-” She cut him off. “I’m not talking about you not telling us – I’m talking about just *knowing*. She’s my mother! He’s kidnapped her God knows how many times…and I never know when it happens, and I *always* assume the worst. Like that time in New Orleans, when I thought you and she…” She looked down for a moment, then resolutely met his eyes, “and all that time he was hurting you and she was desperate for help…and Daddy came…but this time she was all alone…”
John didn’t know what to say. He reached for her, but dropped his hand to the couch, uncertain. “Your mother’s a very strong woman, Sami. And the love she has for her family gives her even greater strength. She never stopped thinking about her children, about getting back to you and Eric and Carrie and Belle.” Sami frowned quizzically. “How do you know that?”
“Didn’t Bo tell you about the goggles?” “Well, yeah…but I didn’t really understand what he was saying. You mean you could watch her? And him? And hear what they were saying?” He clenched his fist and looked away, a muscle working in his jaw. “Yes.” She watched his obvious distress silently, waited a beat, then asked hesitantly, “What did he do to her?”
John looked down at her, tempted to lie, to dismiss the question and spare her distress. But this thaw in Sami’s attitude toward Marlena just might become more permanent if they were careful to be scrupulously honest with her. He sighed. “He kept her in a…well, a cage of sorts, a huge cage with no privacy and no fresh air and no contact with anyone who didn’t work for him. He told her…” he shut his eyes and

shook his head, “He told her I was dead, that he’d killed me in an explosion – he had a fake newspaper reporting my ‘death’ made up, to convince her that no one would come for her, that there was no possibility of rescue. And then he…” His voice faded and he looked away, unable to go on.

“He what?” Sami asked in a small voice. John swallowed. “He tried to make a ‘deal’ with her…He offered her her freedom, in exchange for…” Sami, her eyes wide, repeated his final word, “For?” He turned to look at her, and the pain in his eyes stopped her breath. “For sleeping with him. He offered her her freedom if she would spend one night with him.”
Sami was silent, but then forced herself to ask: “Did she do it?” He bit his lip and gazed at the ceiling. “I don’t know. The goggles wouldn’t work after that…But he was manipulating her – giving her pictures of her children, playing tapes of Belle’s voice – and I’m afraid…” “You’re afraid she did it,” Sami said flatly.
He turned to her and gripped her hand. “You can’t blame your mother for doing what she felt she had to. She was so alone, so desperate-” Sami cut him off. “Oh, I don’t blame her, John.” Her voice was low and vicious. “I blame him. Stefano DiMera. I blame him for everything bad that’s happened to our family and I hope he rots in hell!” He squeezed her hand. “He may be closer to it than you think.” She looked up at him questioningly. “What?”
He gave her a wan smile. “Mike identified some of the blood found on Marlena as Stefano’s. It’s possible that he’s the same shape as your mother; maybe worse. I think…well, I think there’s a distinct possibility that she injured him while she made her escape.” That made Sami smile. “I hope so. I hope she hurt him a lot.” “That’s what I said.” John and Sami looked up to see Carrie standing in the doorway of Marlena’s room, watching them. Sami gently pulled her hand away from John and stood up. “Is she awake?”
Carrie gazed at her for a moment, then turned to John. “She’s not awake yet. I talked to her for a little while…but I knew you’d want to see her.” She stepped out of the doorway and gestured to the room, smiling a little. “Maybe if you give her a kiss, she’ll wake up, just like Sleeping Beauty.”
He grinned at her. “I’ll have to try that.” He squeezed Sami’s shoulder

and walked to the doorway, pausing to touch Carrie’s cheek in silent thanks, then disappeared into the room. The three women watched him go – Carrie deep in thought, Kristen seething with anger, and Sami *very* curious over the infuriated expression on Kristen’s face. ***

John stood just inside the doorway to Marlena’s room and gazed at the women he loved more than anything, anyone in this life. He looked up toward heaven, unable to articulate a more elaborate prayer than “Thank you, Lord” repeated again and again. He slowly approached the bed, eyes roving over her, drinking in her beloved face, soft hair, beautiful lips – her features were pale now, but free of the terrible tension he’d seen in them through the goggles. “That’s right, Doc, you’re free now…and no one will ever hurt you again.” He sat down in the chair, leaned forward, cupped her cheek in his right hand, and whispered, “I swear to you…I will dedicate my life to keeping you safe, protected…happy.” He closed his eyes. “Oh, Doc…I love you so much. I would do anything…” He took her hand in his left and pressed it to his lips. “I lost you once before and it nearly killed me. When I thought you were dead all I could think was ‘Take me with you, I want to go with you.’ If it hadn’t been for the children…”
John smiled at her tenderly and softly traced her eyebrows with his index finger. “They’re together outside right now – Carrie and Sami. You’re the only person in the world that could make that happen. Sami and I…*Sami* and I even had a nice conversation…for a few short moments she was free of the anger caused by our affair. Her beautiful blue eyes were so clear and trusting…like when she was little and believed we could fix anything…before it all went wrong.”
He brought his other hand up to stroke her hair. “We can fix everything, Doc. We can do anything now that you’re back. We can do anything if we’re together.” He bowed his head. “I know you don’t love me the way you did…I can accept that…I can be your friend if that’s all you want. But I *need* you in my life…I need you more than anything in the world.” His voice lowered to a whisper and filled with longing pain. “Oh, Doc, I love you…”
The pressure on his hand was so gentle that he didn’t realize what was happening for several moments. She had squeezed his hand! His head snapped up, and he leaned forward until her face was mere

inches away. “Doc? Doc? Can you hear me, Doc? Can you hear me?” Tears of relief sprang to his eyes as she managed a slight nod. “Oh, baby…oh, sweetheart…you’re all right, it’s going to be okay. Let me get the doctor.” He made as if to get up and leave, but the slight pressure on his hand increased, and a low voice whispered, “No…please don’t leave…”

He sat back down and touched her cheek. “I’m not going anywhere, but I need to tell the doctor you’re awake. Mike needs to check you out.” “…in a minute…” He leaned forward to catch her words, which came in a slightly stronger voice. “…love you too…”
John hid his surprise. “What? What did you say?” Marlena managed a weak smile. “I love you, too, of course.” He smiled uncertainly. “Of course.” He watched her silently for a moment, then ventured tentatively, “You’re my best friend.” Her smile became stronger. “That, too…” She licked her lips. “Water?” John leaped up toward the pitcher on the side of the bed. “Sure, sure, of course, it’s right here.”
He gently helped her lean forward and drink the water. She took a few sips, then leaned back and closed her eyes, a peaceful expression on her face. But as John watched he saw tension return to her features, and she let out a low moan. “Oh God…the plane crash… the plane crashed and I was so scared…”
“I know, Doc, I know…but I knew you weren’t dead. I never believed it for a minute. I never stopped looking…” He looked away guiltily. I didn’t find you in time. I didn’t find you at all. Don’t hate me for not finding you, Doc…
Marlena grimaced in pain, unaware of his silent torment. “*I* thought I was dead…The last time I saw him he was so cold…I knew he never expected to see me alive again – and I don’t think he planned on dying in the near future.” She missed the confusion that crossed John’s features. When she opened her eyes all she saw was the love on his face, and it gave her the courage to ask, “Where is he? Did you find him?”
He frowned in confusion, but she mistook his expression and squeezed his hand. “It’s all right. It doesn’t matter.” John smiled at her tenderly. “I really wish you’d let me call the doctor to make sure you’re all right.” She sighed, nodded and released his hand. He gave her one last loving look, stood up and started toward the door, only to be

stopped short by her next question.

“Roman?”
He stopped and turned back toward her, perplexed. “What did you say?”
She closed her eyes in pain and turned her face toward the wall, but
he heard her voice clearly anyway. “Roman, do you think Orpheus will
come after us? Do you think he’ll try to hurt us again?” John stared at
Marlena, openmouthed with shock.
Chapter 7
John stared at Marlena, his mind blank with shock, unable to frame an answer to her question. *Roman* she’d said. She’d called him Roman!!
Marlena opened her eyes and looked at him, confused and afraid. “You think he’s coming, don’t you? You think he’ll keep coming and coming until he…” She choked off with a sob and turned her head to hide her tears. John reached her side in two strides and took her hand in his, mind racing. “No, Doc…shhh..it’s okay.”
“Okay? How can it be okay? Orpheus is obsessed, Roman. He has *nothing* to lose, nothing to live for worth sparing your…my…*our* life. He wants to torture you. Even his children aren’t enough…” Her voice trailed off and she compressed her lips, eyes bright with pain. “Can you imagine not caring enough about your children to give up on an insane, pointless vendetta?”
John, still reeling from the shock, murmured, “Well, he loved his wife a lot…” Marlena let out a derisive, pain-soaked laugh. “That isn’t *love*! You would never do that, I know you wouldn’t. You would never turn the amazing love we share into something evil.” She reached up to delicately trace the line of his cheek. His breath caught at her featherlight touch and the sheen of love in her eyes. For a moment he let himself become immersed in her visions of the past, and he leaned forward and kissed her softly.
She leaned into the kiss, grimacing slightly at the discomfort it caused, willing to stand the pain for the warmth of his touch. He slid his arms behind her to gently lower her back to the pillow. She smiled broadly and closed her eyes. “Mmmmm…a few more of those and I’ll be completely cured.”
John grinned at her and pushed her hair back. “Lots more where that

came from, ma’am.” Cured…her words brought him crashing back to reality. What should he do? Tell her the truth? No – better to talk to Mike – immediately. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the forehead, carefully avoiding the bandage over her head injury. Head injury! Maybe that was it…

He couldn’t keep himself from caressing her cheek again. Marlena’s breathing evened out, the pain medication already returning her to the realm of dreams. John allowed himself one wistful moment of wishing he could join her there, back in the past, when all the problems and obstacles in their life were external, when the bond between them was unshakable, rock-solid…when the bond between them was marriage. It didn’t matter that she had thought him her dead husband – the feelings between them had been real and powerful, the most powerful feelings he’d experienced in all his remembered life. She’d loved him before she thought he was Roman – even when she’d thought he might be *Stefano*! – …and he’d loved her from the moment he’d first seen her, a caring, compassionate doctor concerned for the welfare of her anonymous, gauze-wrapped patient. I’m Doctor Marlena Evans… – words that had transformed his life.
Now she was the patient, and it was his turn to lead her through the minefield that was memory and past. He grinned ruefully and tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear. “Maybe we should start a club, Doc…” John stood next to the bed and gazed down at her for a few long moments, satisfied that her sleep was peaceful. “I love you, Doc. And I’ll get you through this, just like you did me. I owe you one.” One more loving caress – then he turned and left the room. ***

Kristen slowly paced back and forth in the lounge, absently sipping the lukewarm liquid that passed for coffee in the hospital, though in actual taste it bore more resemblance to battery acid. Her stomach and the small occupant situated below it growled and kicked in protest, but she didn’t notice, lost in her litany. Damn her, Damn her, DAMN HER!!!! Her hand automatically began to caress her belly, and she took several deep breaths, trying to regain her composure. She’d almost lost it out in the hallway, listening to the *oh-so-touching* conversation between John and his sometimes-children. After John had gone into Marlena’s room, Sami and Carrie retreated to opposite ends of the

waiting-room couch, lost in a chilly silence. Kristen had looked up from her angry reverie to see Sami watching her with a puzzled, speculative gaze. The shrewdness in those cold blue eyes sent a shiver through her, and she’d excused herself, pleading exhaustion. Carrie had barely acknowledged her, but Sami’s gaze bore into her back as she hurried down the hallway.

It’s really hard to believe that Sami is Marlena’s daughter and not Carrie, she mused. From all reports, Carrie’s mother Anna was something less than a dedicated parent – Carrie had basically grown up without benefit of either biological parent. Therefore, it would seem much more likely that Carrie would turn into the little witch that Sami reportedly had become. John had sadly relayed to Kristen the lengths to which Sami had gone to snag her sister’s boyfriend. Kristen found herself reluctantly impressed, and a little worried. If anyone in the perfect little Brady family circle could divine her thoughts and deduce her actions, it was probably Sami. Set a thief to catch a thief, Kristen.
But, she mused pensively, cocking her head, why assume that Sami would even be interested in *catching* Kristen? The concern she was presently exhibiting for Marlena would probably vanish the instant the woman regained consciousness. Sami had worked too hard developing her massive store of righteous anger – she wouldn’t abandon it just because of a few gunshot wounds, would she? If Satan hadn’t done it, would bullets?
Kristen found herself increasingly intrigued by this train of thought. What if Sami were not only *not* a hindrance to her plans, but a help? After all, John and Marlena’s affair had derailed her life in the first place. She surely wouldn’t be interested in seeing a resumption of that relationship. She’d probably even be willing to do whatever she could to ensure that it didn’t happen. It would definitely matter to Marlena what Sami thought – Kristen still remembered Marlena’s guilty expression when Kristen had mentioned the pain the affair had caused her family. She knew that John’s guilt still ate at him also. His voice still echoed with yearning when he spoke of the children and the life he had lost when he discovered he wasn’t Roman Brady, and with guilt when he acknowledged what his attempt to recapture that life had cost them. She knew that when he looked at Sami he didn’t see the calculating woman she’d become, but the little girl who’d called him

Daddy for seven years – just as he didn’t see Kristen’s true character when he looked at her. Thank God for John’s rose-colored glasses or we’d both be in trouble, Sami.

Kristen abruptly slammed her coffee down on the table, shaking off the depression that had fallen around her like a shroud when she had realized she wouldn’t have another chance to be alone with Marlena before the woman woke up and spilled her guts to John. Maybe that won’t be the end… After all, what had she *really* done that Marlena could point to? The letter, yes, but that could be explained by fear for her baby. The plane number? Again, no proof…and perhaps, just perhaps, with a certain young, blond, ruthless ally…perhaps this wasn’t the end after all.
She straightened her dress, plastered a smile on her face, and set out
to find her new *best friend* for a heart-to-heart talk…*mother to
mother*…
***
Carrie and Sami trailed behind John like two wayward satellites, each taking two steps to match his one as he strode quickly down the hall. His odd behavior alarmed Sami, who lunged forward and caught his arm as he turned the corner. John stopped and looked back, seemingly surprised to see her behind him, but he merely asked, “What?” in a distracted voice.
Carrie caught her breath. “What do you mean *what*? What’s going on? What’s wrong with Marlena? You shot out of her room like someone was after you, you don’t say a word to us, you start running down the hall…” Her face filled with fear. “She’s not…?”
John held up his hands, instantly contrite that his behavior had caused them distress. “No, it’s nothing like that…” He wondered what to tell them, wavered a moment, and finally decided on the truth. “She woke up, in fact.”
Sami let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “But that’s great! Isn’t it?” She studied him uncertainly. “So what’s wrong with *you*?” John looked from one to the other, a rueful, uncomfortable expression on his face. He reached out and caught their hands in his. “She….um, she called me….she called me Roman.”
They looked at each other and then back at him, asking in unison, “What?!?” He nodded, gripping their hands tighter. “She called me

Roman. She thinks it’s 1986 and she’s just awakened from the plane crash. She thinks Orpheus is after her. She thinks you two are still children…She thinks we’re still married.” He suppressed an ironic chuckle at the sight of them standing there with identical expressions of open-mouthed shock on their faces. “And I really think we need to talk to Mike about it.”

“Talk to Mike about what?” All three of them turned in unison as Mike walked up the hallway. John eyed him pityingly. “It’s about Marlena. She’s awake. And you’re never going to believe this…” ***

Kristen peeked around the corner into the waiting room outside Marlena’s door. She needed to get Sami alone, away from Carrie. This was going to be tricky.
She frowned, confused by the empty lounge. Where in the world would they have gone? Surely they wouldn’t have already left. Maybe they were off telephoning the rest of the family. Or maybe they just couldn’t stand being in a room alone together without tearing each other’s hair out. Do I ever understand that feeling!
Kristen pondered the door to Marlena’s room. Was John still inside? Had Marlena awakened? Did he know all that she had done? Her shoulders slumped as her earlier optimism deserted her. He would never believe her over Marlena…and he’d use any pretext available to justify returning to his former wife. It wouldn’t matter if what she’d done didn’t actually merit losing him – he loved Marlena more than he loved Kristen. She’d heard it herself from his own lips.
She sagged against the wall, spent. Planning and plotting caused perpetual exhaustion, she’d discovered these past few months. Constant fear and tension had reduced her to one giant raw nerve. It might almost be a relief to have it all over…but, no, she couldn’t give up until she was sure. Pushing herself away from the wall, she made her way over to the window in the door to Marlena’s room and looked inside. Unsurprisingly, Marlena rested on the bed, eyes closed, peacefully asleep. But surprisingly enough, she was alone. Where was John? Kristen shook her head. It didn’t matter. All that mattered was that this was truly her last chance. She looked around to make sure she hadn’t been noticed, reached for the door handle, and entered the room.

Perhaps disturbed by the whisper of noise from the door hinge, the

woman on the bed stirred, moaned, and opened her eyes, which
widened in panic at the sight of someone standing over her. Kristen
smiled. “Hello, Marlena.”
***
John held up his hands in a finis gesture. “So that’s it. She doesn’t remember anything about what Stefano did to her, how she got to the church, nada…she doesn’t remember Stefano kidnapping her the first time, she doesn’t remember Roman coming back from the dead…ten years, gone,” he snapped his fingers, “Just like that!”
Mike rubbed his forehead in consternation. “I have to admit that this isn’t something I anticipated. Her injuries don’t seem consistent with traumatic memory loss.” He sighed. “Though I haven’t seen the CAT scan yet…”
John closed his eyes and pressed the heels of his hands against his temples, trying to keep fatigue at bay. “She’s terrified that Orpheus is going to come for her. I have to tell her that he’s dead, that she has nothing to worry about – from *him* at least. I have no idea how she’s going to take the news that we’re not married…that I’m not who she thought I was…that Stefano’s alive and as obsessed as ever…that she’s missed *ten years*…”
Mike held up his hand to silence John. “And you’re not going to find out.” John, Carrie and Sami looked at each other, confused, and turned back to Mike in unison. “What?”
Mike leaned forward on his elbows, eyes intense, voice emphatic.
“You’re not telling her anything.”
Chapter 8
“You’re not pretending to be *my* father again, John!” Sami’s eyes blazed with anger. “There is *no way* that I will ever let you do that again.” “He didn’t pretend-” Carrie began indignantly, but John held up his hand to cut her off. “I don’t think that was what Mike was saying, Sami.”
She scowled at him. “Wasn’t it? You just told him Mom thinks it’s 1986 and that you’re still Roman Brady – and he said not to tell her any different. Are we supposed to let her believe that you’re still her husband…our father?” Her hands fisted in her lap. “I will *never* do that! Never!”

“Sami, honey,” he said, reaching for her, but she flinched back from his touch. He sighed and dropped his hand. “Look, there’s no way we could pretend that it’s 1986 for more than a few hours – it would be totally impossible to keep that information from her – she’s too perceptive, and she could always read me like a book. And it wouldn’t be any easier to keep up the pretense that I’m still Roman.” He smiled at her tentatively. “I think what Mike meant was that he didn’t want us to tell her anything *just yet*, not *not ever*.”

Sami’s frown faded until she looked merely confused. “Then why didn’t
he say that? And where did he go?” John shrugged. “I guess we’ll find
out when he gets back.”
***
Kristen enjoyed the terror she saw in Marlena’s eyes; it told her that the other woman understood that Kristen was still very much a threat to her. She therefore became confused as the terror quickly drained from Marlena’s face. The woman on the bed smiled softly and shut her eyes. “I’m sorry, I forgot where I was for a minute…I thought you were someone else.” Kristen’s brow furrowed. “You did?”
Marlena sobered and opened her eyes again. “I’m so used to people watching me when I sleep – no privacy, no way to escape.” She sighed. “I guess you don’t recover from being kidnapped that fast.” Kristen picked the extra pillow up from the chair and squeezed it softly, contemplating reviving her earlier plan to smother the life out of Marlena. “Mmmm-hmm.”
Marlena schooled her expression into one of polite interest and waved her hand weakly toward Kristen’s white coat. “You must be new here.” Kristen glanced confusedly down at her chest. “I used to know all the nurses in this hospital.” “What?-” “I guess I’ve been gone longer than I thought,” Marlena continued, oblivious to Kristen’s bewilderment. “But then, it did seem like an eternity.” She bit her lip. “It’s really true, you know – You don’t know what you have until you lose it. I missed Roman so much. Every day without him was like a knife in my heart.”
Kristen’s head was spinning. “Roman Brady?” Marlena came out of her reverie and glanced tiredly at Kristen. “Yes. Oh, I’m sorry. I just-…well, it’s been so long since I’ve really been able to talk about him. My kidnapper hated him; talking about my husband made him totally irrational.” She yawned, overcome again by the medication.

Kristen shook her head, perplexed, and turned to pace toward the door. “Well, of course it did. He’s always hated Roman.” She plumped the pillow, mind racing. She doesn’t seem angry. She doesn’t even seem to recognize me! And what’s all this about Roman? She loves *him* now? What about John? What the hell is going on? She bit her lip and looked out the window into the hallway. I have to find out what she’s going to do. I can’t *stand* this anymore! She took a deep breath. “What are you going to do, Marlena?”

No answer. Kristen turned back toward the bed. Marlena was asleep again, oblivious to the world. Kristen fingered her pillow contemplatively. What am *I* going to do?
***
“Sorry that took so long.” Mike’s words exploded in the utter silence of the room like a gunshot. John, Sami and Carrie turned toward him in unison, eyes widening as his mother came through the door behind him. John frowned. “Where did you go? And why is *she* here? Uh, no offense, Laura.”
Mike placed the manila folder he’d been carrying on his desk and sat down. Laura stood behind him, a sympathetic expression on her face. Mike steepled his hands, sweeping his gaze across each of them in turn. “I asked her to come here because of Marlena. I’ve told her everything you’ve told me. And,” he said, tapping his fingers on the envelope, “I’ve gotten the results from the CAT scan…I have to tell you, this is going to be complicated.”
Sami looked from him to John and back again and asked impatiently, “What do you mean, *complicated*? And what did you mean before about not telling Mom *anything*?”
Mike glanced up at his mother. She nodded. “The results from the films don’t indicate injuries consistent with traumatic amnesia. And the fact that she showed up at the church *after* she was injured indicates that she hadn’t yet forgotten the last ten years.” Carrie nodded slowly. “That makes sense – I mean, if she thought John was still her husband, why would she be looking for him in the church where he was marrying someone else.”
Sami scowled. “Well, why was she there anyway? How did she know where you’d be?” John shrugged. “That’s a good question. From what I saw on the goggles, Stefano was trying to convince her that I was

dead.” Mike pursed his lips, deep in thought. “About those goggles, John…Was there any indication from what you saw that Stefano was attempting to brainwash her, the way he did you?”

John shook his head. “No…no drugs, nothing. And I don’t think that’s something he would do.” At that, Sami gave a disbelieving snort. “No, I’m serious, Sami. Stefano’s obsession with Marlena has always been based on…well…possessing her as she *is*. As the beautiful, caring woman she’s always been.” Carrie looked at him, eyes thoughtful, but he didn’t see her perceptive glance. “It wouldn’t mean as much to him to make her love him if she wasn’t really *her*…Do you understand what I mean?”
Sami nodded doubtfully. “I guess so. But if he didn’t brainwash her and the head injury didn’t make her lose her memory…then why can’t she remember the last ten years?” “That’s a very good question, Sami,” Mike said. “That’s where the *other* Dr. Horton comes in.”
Laura smiled and put down the CAT scan results she’d been studying. “Head injuries and brainwashing aren’t the only possible causes of amnesia. Sometimes the cause is psychological.” She paced back and forth behind her son, gesturing as if lecturing a classroom of students. “When something sufficiently traumatic happens, it’s possible for the mind to protect itself by eliminating the event from conscious memory. It’s a form of self-protection.”
“Well, that makes sense, I guess,” John said. “But erasing a traumatic event isn’t the same thing as erasing ten years of your life.” Laura beamed at him as if he were a student who had offered a particularly perceptive observation. “True. And the extent of her retrograde amnesia would usually be associated with substantial brain damage, which isn’t indicated in this case. But I’m struck by the similarities between this situation and the one she found herself in in 1986.” She held up her hand to tick off her points one by one. “Stefano DiMera kidnaps her, using the ruse of a plane crash to convince her family that she’s dead. She’s ripped away from her children and,” she eyed John for a moment, “all the other people that she loves. As the days passed while she was in that cage she probably wondered if she was going to lose five more years – or even longer – because of his obsession. And then something even worse happened…”
“She shot him,” Sami speculated. Laura pursed her lips and nodded.

“Perhaps…if she killed him, that realization might have been sufficient trauma.” Carrie shook her head. “But she killed him once before…and I really don’t think she was even sorry about it.”

“Well, I wasn’t here, then. But *something* happened that was beyond her ability to cope, and her subconscious mind decided to erase her entire kidnapping.” “And while it was at it, it erased the earlier one, too? And everything in between?” John asked disbelievingly. “I’m sorry, Laura, but I find this all really hard to believe.”
Mike nodded. “I understand. And at this point, without having talked to Marlena, it’s merely speculation. But if what we suspect is true, then what we tell her – and what we *don’t* tell her – could have a substantial impact on her recovery.”
Laura nodded in agreement. “I’ve told Mike the questions to ask. I’d do it myself, but my appearance in her room alone would be enough to tell her that something was amiss, since I was catatonic in 1986. I think you should be there too, John. You seem to be one of the few constants in her life at this point.” “Except that Mom thinks they’re married and that he’s someone else,” Sami pointed out sarcastically.
Laura looked at her, eyes solemn. “True – and it might possibly be necessary that she continue to think that.” “But-” Mike waved away her response. “Let’s just talk to your mother first, okay?” ***

Kristen sat in the chair next to Marlena’s bed, her mind on the bizarre conversation they’d just had. It’s almost as if she doesn’t remember what I did to her. It’s almost as if she doesn’t remember *me*. She eyed the bandage on Marlena’s forehead. Maybe that knock on the head scrambled her brain a little bit. She’s just confused…and it probably won’t last very long. This probably really is my last chance. She stood up, picked up the pillow and raised it over Marlena’s head. She was about to bring it down on her face when she heard the click of the doorknob. She snatched the pillow back, sighing. What are the odds of *that* happening twice in one day?
“Kristen?” It was John’s voice. “What are you doing in here? She’s not awake, is she?” He craned his head to see around her, relief washing over his face as he saw Marlena was asleep. He stepped in the room, grabbed Kristen’s arm and pulled her out the door. “What? John, let go, you’re hurting me!”

“Oh, sorry.” He dropped her arm. “You didn’t say anything to her, did you?” Kristen eyed him suspiciously. “Not much. She wasn’t making much sense, and then she fell asleep.” She studied him for a moment, unable to decipher his expression. “She was just going on and on about how much she loved Roman,” Kristen added slyly, expecting his face to fall, but if anything, he looked a little pleased. She saw Sami scowl. Why? Why would hearing Marlena loves Roman make John happy and Sami angry?

John nodded, satisfied. “Okay, then. Mike and I have to talk to Doc.” He looked back toward the girls. “Sami and Carrie can explain to you what’s going on.” He and Mike disappeared into Marlena’s room. Kristen watched them go and then turned toward the two, eyes wary. “What’s going on?”
Sami wrenched her gaze away from the door where Laura was loitering, listening to the conversation taking place inside but carefully keeping out of Marlena’s line of sight. “Well, you might as well pack up your wedding dress, because according to Mom, John’s already married.”
“Sami-” Carrie said plaintively, “You’re not helping…” Sami laughed. “Really? And what exactly *would* help in this situation? Should I be happy that my mother has forgotten my father?” Kristen grabbed Sami’s wrist angrily. “What are you *talking* about? I just told you that Marlena said how much she loves Roman.”
Sami shook off her grip contemptuously. “No, she didn’t. She was talking about John – only she doesn’t know that he’s John. I mean, she’s forgotten that he isn’t Roman Brady. In fact, she’s forgotten the last ten *years*.”
Kristen snorted in disbelief. “Yeah, right. Good one, Sami.” Carrie held out her arm to bar the way when Kristen turned toward the door to Marlena’s room. “Sami’s not lying – though I can certainly understand why you would believe she might be.” Sami made a face at that. Carrie ignored it. “Marlena really doesn’t remember the past ten years, and Mike and Laura think it’s possible that she might not ever remember.” “They didn’t say that,” Sami objected. “And even if she doesn’t remember…well, all we have to do is tell her what went on. There’s no reason to let her believe that John is still Daddy. That wouldn’t be fair to him.”

“Fair? How would he even know?” Carrie rounded on her, angry. “Dad hasn’t paid any attention to *anything* going on in Salem for the past two years. Why would he even *care* about this?” “Oh, he would care all right. He left Salem in the first place because John tried to steal his life – and Mom tried to let him.”

Carrie shook her head vehemently. “No, he left because he couldn’t handle the fact that our lives didn’t stop when Stefano kidnapped him – and we weren’t willing to forget everybody and everything that happened while he was gone. If he couldn’t have everything the way he wanted it then he didn’t want it at all!”
Sami’s eyes blazed. “That’s *not* true! Being here was just too painful after all the horrible things Mom and John did to him.” Carrie looked worriedly toward Marlena’s room and lowered her voice a notch. “People get divorced, Sami. It happens all the time. But Dad divorced Marlena, not his children. Just because they weren’t together didn’t give him the right to divorce *us*, too.”
Tears brightened Sami’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. “He didn’t do that. He loves us…he loves me. He wouldn’t do that.” But she didn’t sound convinced.
Carrie sighed. “I believe he loves us, Sami. But it isn’t enough. I remember when he first came back, and he’d go on and on at the drop of a hat about how he never *ever* would have left his family if he’d had any choice at all in the matter. And three years later, *Poof*, he’s gone. And that *was* his choice.”
Sami pressed her lips together and turned away, swiping surreptuously at her eyes. Kristen watched them both in disbelief. They’re serious. Marlena doesn’t remember *anything* I’ve done. She looked up toward the ceiling. Thank you, God!
John and Mike walked slowly out of Marlena’s room, faces solemn. John waved Carrie and Sami over toward him as Mike carefully shut her door. Laura looked at all of them, her expression grave. “You see what I mean now, don’t you?” she asked her son. He nodded. “Marlena’s subconscious mind is protecting her from what happened.” She looked toward John. “Your presence is key to that protection. Your presence is vital to her recovery.”
Sami gave him a mutinous look and turned toward Laura. “Why *his* presence? *I’m* her daughter. *I’ll* help her.” Laura smiled at her

sympathetically. “I’m sure you will. But you have to understand that you – and your sisters and brother – are going to be part of the shock she’ll have to endure when she finds out it’s no longer 1986. That’s one change we can’t possibly keep from her, and it’s going to be a painful realization.” Sami didn’t look convinced. “Don’t you understand? In her mind, you’re still a child. Finding out differently will be a major shock. And she’ll need John to help her get through it.”

Carrie nodded slowly. “So, you’re going to tell her that she’s forgotten ten years of her life?” “I’m not.” Laura tilted her head toward John. “He is. He’s the one she trusts more than anyone. It’s vital that she has him to center herself on. He’s the rock upon which she’ll have to rebuild her life, and we can’t do anything to shake her faith in that foundation.” She looked at each of them in turn, carefully meeting all of their gazes, lingering finally a bit longer on Kristen’s. “That’s why no one’s going to tell her that John is no longer Roman Brady – *no one*.” Chapter 9
Kristen looked from one face to the next until her disbelieving gaze finally rested on Laura Horton. “You can’t be serious, Laura! You can’t just let Marlena think that John is still her husband. He has a life, too, you know. You can’t just expect him to put everything on hold to baby-sit Marlena.” She rubbed her hand over her protruding stomach to emphasize her point.
Sami rolled her eyes at that bit of drama. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with Kristen…about lying to Mom, I mean. Do you have any idea how complicated that would be? It would never work!” John switched his gaze from Kristen, whom he’d been regarding with a hurt, puzzled look, to Sami. “Sami, no one is suggesting that we do this for the rest of her life – just until she’s strong enough to handle the news.” He turned to Laura. “Did you see her reaction when I told her that I shot Orpheus in self-defense?”
Laura nodded. “I did. She was obviously very upset at the thought of losing you.” She looked over toward her son. “What was her pressure, Mike?”
He perused his patient chart, pursed his lips, and shook his head. “Too high. It’s very important that she remain calm. We managed to repair her injuries, but excessive agitation at this point can only be detrimental to both her physical and her mental health.” John frowned

worriedly. “Maybe we shouldn’t tell her about the memory loss, then.” Laura tilted her chin, considering that, but finally shook her head. “I think the risk is too great that she would figure it out fairly quickly on her own. It would be much better to hear it from someone she loves. And until we explain the time loss, she won’t be able to see her children, and that would cause a considerable amount of stress in and of itself.” She smiled gently at Carrie and Sami. “She asked about you two – and your brother – several times. It’s obvious she missed you very much.”

Carrie, with a faraway, memory-laden look in her eye, murmured, “We missed her, too.” Sami regarded her silently for a moment, then turned back to John, her expression still dubious. “So, you’re going to tell her that it isn’t 1986 anymore. Then what?”
“Well, I think we’ll need to get her out of the hospital fairly quickly, or someone she knows will probably spill the beans by accident.” Mike and Laura nodded their agreement. “As long as she remains calm and takes it slow, she isn’t in any serious danger,” Mike said. “I can come by and check her out periodically, though the hospital does frown on doctors who make house calls.” He smiled. “And Mom can begin to prepare her for finding out the rest once she’s settled.”
Carrie came out of her reverie and fixed her gaze on John. “Settled where, exactly? She can’t go back to Kristen’s.” “No, you’re right, that’s definitely out.” John bit his lower lip, thoughts racing. “It has to be someplace familiar to her,” Laura offered. “She needs a safe, comfortable environment…the loft, maybe? Was she ever there in 1986?”
John shut his eyes, thinking back. “That was when Bo and Hope…Kim? no, Kayla…oh, I don’t remember, but I know *someone* in the family lived there. So she’s been there, but I don’t know how comfortable she’d find it.”
“What about the house?” Sami blurted out. Startled, the others looked at her. She was a little surprised she’d said that herself, and mumbled, “Well, it’s just sitting there and no one’s using it…” Carrie nodded slowly, but then shook her head, pointing out that the house was no longer as it was in 1986, and explaining to Laura about the explosion Orpheus had orchestrated. “But it’s substantially the same, isn’t it?” Laura asked. “And she probably knows about the explosion, anyway. I

think the house is a very good idea.”

John watched Sami intently until she raised her eyes to meet his. He reached out to squeeze her shoulder gently. “Are you sure about this, Sami?” She gave an ironic little laugh. “No…but I don’t want to do anything that’ll hurt Mom. And the more comfortable she is, the sooner we can tell her the truth, right?”
John nodded. “Right. Okay, the house it is.” He clasped his hands together and began to pace. “We need to move her things over there. Most of her stuff is at the penthouse, but some of it is at Kristen’s.” He turned toward Carrie and Sami. “Can you two handle that?”
They looked at each other and nodded. “You need to move your stuff in, too,” Carrie pointed out. Sami opened her mouth as if to protest, but then shut it again. John gave her a sympathetic look. “I know it’s hard – but you’re going to have to clean out the house, too.” “Clean it out?” Sami asked. “It’s not really that bad. I was over there a couple of weeks ago, getting some old Dr. Suess books for Will. There’s some dust, but-”
“That isn’t what I meant, Sami.” He put his other hand on her opposite shoulder and turned her until she was facing him directly. He looked deeply into her eyes. “Marlena and Roman lived there for several years…years that Marlena doesn’t remember. Any evidence of those years…well, it has to be removed. Can you do that?”
Can I? Sami thought. Can I remove the last traces of the existence of my family? The last proof that Mom and Daddy ever loved each other? She felt the familiar anger build, and she looked away from John. Her eyes came to rest on the door to Marlena’s room, and the rebellion inside her died. She doesn’t even remember why I’m angry. How can I punish her for something she doesn’t even know she did? Does it even matter anymore? She knew the answer to that question. Yes. It did matter. But it didn’t matter more than her mother did. She gently shook off John’s hands. “Don’t worry about it, John. I can handle it.”
She could almost read his mind as he turned back toward the others. I hope so, Sami. He nodded to all of them. “Okay, Mike and I will tell Marlena about what happened…about the time loss, anyway. She’s going to want to know why she’s in the hospital, though.” Mike considered that for a moment. “How about gunshot wounds from a robbery? It’ll explain her injuries…and you’re going to need a good

reason for the guards you’ll have surrounding her.”

Kristen spoke for the first time in several minutes. Her thoughts had been racing as she wondered whether her thanks to God for Marlena’s memory loss had been grossly premature. A protected Marlena was a dangerous Marlena. And a Marlena who believed John was her husband didn’t bear thinking about. “Guards? Why guards?”
John spared her an exasperated glance. “Stefano may still be out there, and there’s no way I’m *ever* letting that bastard anywhere near her again.” He turned back to Mike. “But a robbery would be a stressful thing to hear about, too.”
Mike nodded. “Maybe…but it would explain the nature of her injuries, which she *will* notice once the meds are dialed back a little. And I think a *random* act of violence would be easier for her to take than the knowledge that Stefano is still after her…” He paused, struck by a sudden thought. “My God, he’s been doing this for decades, now! How can she stand it?”
John closed his eyes and sighed deeply. “I know. And I’ve wondered myself how she’s managed to carve out such a good life in spite of it.” He opened his eyes and studied Mike for a moment. “Okay, I’m willing to trust your judgment on this one. Are you ready?”
“I’m ready.” Carrie reached for John and enveloped him in a hug. “Good luck. Tell her…tell her that we love her, and we can’t wait to see her.” He squeezed her tightly. “Thanks, punkin’.” He let go of her and looked at Sami, whose eyes were wary but not unsympathetic. She nodded shortly. “Good luck.” He smiled at her softly. “Thanks, Sami.”
The two young women turned toward Kristen. “Well?” Sami asked. “Well, what?” Kristen replied crossly, her eyes following John as he, Mike and Laura crossed the corridor to Marlena’s room without so much as a see-you-later. Sami snapped her fingers impatiently in front of Kristen’s eyes. “Spring cleaning?” she said sarcastically. “The removal of your fiancee to join his once- and future-wife? The beginning of total lunacy?”
Kristen’s expression as she turned back toward them made Carrie glad that the axiom “If looks could kill…” wasn’t literally true. “You have to *clean out* the house first, don’t you?” she spat out. “I have things to do right now.” She spared one last angry glance for Marlena’s door and stalked off down the hall.

Carrie watched her for a moment, stunned. “I’ve never seen her act that way before, have you?” Sami shrugged dismissively. “I haven’t seen her much, period. She does seem like kind of a weird choice for John, though. And I thought she and Mom were friends.”

Carrie bit her lip. “Me too. I don’t know, maybe it’s just about her
wedding being blown to hell.” She glanced sharply at Sami. “I know
how *that* feels.” Sami rolled her eyes. “Here we go again! Carrie
Brady, eternal victim-slash-heroine. Sami Brady, evil devil-slut. Give it
a rest, would you? We have things to do.” She turned her back on her
sister and walked down the hallway. Carrie pondered Marlena’s door
for a moment, wondering how things were going inside, then turned to
follow her sister.
***
John looked back to where Laura stood just out of sight in the doorway. She gave him an encouraging smile, but managed to look just as nervous as he felt. Mike was a little better at hiding his trepidation, but John could see the white knuckles that testified to how tightly the doctor was gripping his clipboard. Great, John thought. Does *anyone* believe this is going to go well?
He walked quietly to the side of the bed and took Marlena’s hand. She awoke instantly, despite the medication, reminding John of how tense the past few months must have been for her. He wondered how long it had been since she’d had a peaceful night of sleep. I’m sorry, baby.
John smiled gently at Marlena. “How are you feeling, honey?” The endearment fell from his lips without conscious thought.
She smiled at him a little tremulously. “Fine…I guess. I think…I think I’m relieved.” She shut her eyes, guilt written all over her face. “It’s terrible to be relieved that someone’s dead. I’ve never felt that way before, except with Stefano.” Her still-closed eyes kept her from seeing the panicked glance John shot toward Mike. “I don’t know,” she continued, “I can’t seem to relax…even now that it’s over and I’m back with my family…I have this overwhelming feeling that something is terribly wrong.” She opened her eyes and studied John’s face, and as he had feared, read it with all her customary ease. “Something *is* wrong. What is it?” He swallowed uneasily, unsure how to begin. “Is it the children?”
He squeezed her hand. “No, the kids are fine. In fact, the kids are

incredibly relieved that you’re all right.” She smiled, her eyes filled with tears. “Can I see them?”

“Soon,” he said, and looked up at Mike. He saw it in the doctor’s eyes.
It’s time. He turned back to Marlena, and gently cupped her cheek with

his other hand. His eyes met hers and his heart nearly broke at the
love and trust he saw reflected in them. “There’s something I have to
tell you, Doc.”
Chapter 10
Sami stood at the foot of the double bed and surveyed the room in which her mother had lived for months after her return from Aremid. It was surprisingly devoid of any personality at all. Well, she did move out for a bit before she was kidnapped, Sami mused doubtfully. Personally, she thought the whole house was really creepy. Why in the world had her mother been willing to live in a house once owned by Stefano DiMera? With his daughter and her fiance, who just happened to be Mom’s ex-husband? Sami grinned sardonically. Twisted. Really twisted. And the creepiness of the house was only accentuated by the I-Dream-of-Jeannie reject who had answered the door. Sami had debated making a joke about it to Carrie, something about how it was surprising that Rachel Blake didn’t choke every time she tried to talk and inadvertently inhaled her veil in the process. But Carrie wouldn’t have thought it was funny. She would’ve said something tiring and pious about how hard it is to be scarred, and how she remembered the feeling *so* well. Yuck. Oh, well, Sami shrugged. I’ll tell Lucas later. *He’ll* think it’s funny.

She heard a box drop in the room down the hall. Carrie was packing John’s stuff in the room he and Kristen shared. Rachel was helping her, since John had more belongings here than Marlena. Sami didn’t mind. She just hoped they finished before Kristen got done having her tantrum and came home. Carrie had pointed out as they drove over here that Kristen expected them to clean out the Brady house before coming to get John and Marlena’s stuff. Sami had replied that she didn’t really care what Kristen thought, and, moreover, had had enough of the woman’s snarky remarks. Carrie had shrugged and gone along with her. You do that *way* too often, sister mine, Sami thought. No wonder you’re so easy to manipulate.
She levered the half-filled cardboard box up onto the bed, idly sifting

through its contents. One robe…one jewelry box…a set of hairbrushes…three books on psychiatry…two pairs of shoes… “Not much of a collection, Mom.” She looked around the room again, eyes finally resting on the dresser. “Drawers, drawers…,” Sami muttered, crossing the room. She pulled open the top drawer. “Socks, pantyhose…ooh, Milk Duds, shame on you, Mom…Hello, what’s this?” She pulled the white envelope out from its hiding place in the back of the drawer. “Let’s see…oh, just pictures.” She made a mildly disappointed face, then smiled a little. “Well, what did you expect, girl, a stash of cash?” She chuckled to herself and pulled the pictures out of the envelope. Marlena, John, Belle and Brady grinned up at her. “Oh…”

Sami reached to the side, pulled up a chair and sat down in it without looking, eyes glued to the grinning faces in the picture. “They look…happy….They look like a family,” she said, a little surprised that
the realization didn’t make her angry. She traced the faces in the picture with her index finger. It took very little imagination to see herself and Eric in Belle and Brady’s places. “You two are very lucky,” she said to them, softly, conversationally. “They’re very good parents…when you’re little, anyway.” She shook her head from side to side as if to rid her mind of unpleasant memories and riffled her fingers through the rest of the pictures. She wondered who had taken them on what had obviously been a happy day in the garden. Not Kristen, I bet. She was suddenly seized by an overwhelming stab of longing and jealously. I WANT that for Will…Two parents in love, a little sister…and maybe a dog, too. She stopped short as she realized what she’d just thought. In love? No… But that’s what it looked like. John and Marlena looked at each other like they were in love…like they used to look at each other when Sami was little. “No, I can’t be reading this right…can I?” She pulled out the last picture and laughed at the sight of the four of them all sticking their tongues out for the camera. Sighing a little, she tried to return the pictures back to the envelope, but they wouldn’t fit. “What’s this?” She pulled out a folded white piece of paper.

“It’s a letter…” Sami unfolded it slowly. “It’s from John…to Mom…Oh my, God…”
Dear Marlena,

If you are reading this letter, then I have been executed. No man is without sin but God knows that I did not kill Tony. I have gone with the faith that death is not the end but a summons to a new existence; a summons to live with God in Paradise.

Of course, I feel that my time has come too soon. But God works in mysterious ways. I leave with few regrets: one is that my children will never know their father; the other one is leaving you Doc.
I know that our life together has been complicated; you’ve been in love with other men, I’ve been in love with other women. But the love *we* shared was something special Doc. There never was and never could be anyone to fill the special place you hold in my heart. I love you. I know now I always have….and I always will.
Tears streamed down Sami’s face. She held herself very still and stared at the letter, mind racing. I always have and I always will… She raised her eyes to look out the window into the garden, fingers tightening on the letter and wrinkling the paper. “Oh God…how in the world do I feel about this?” The trees, leaves waving in the wind of the beginnings of a late summer storm, did not answer her. ***

John stared at the jumble of tubing, wiring, and fluid bags which Mike had just detached from Marlena’s body, while the doctor held Marlena’s wrist loosely with his left hand and checked his watch. His eyes were full of doubt when he looked up at John, but he nodded reluctantly. Mike then turned to Marlena, smiled reassuringly, and said with a hint of scolding, “You have to stay calm, Marlena. It’s not good for you to get excited.”
Marlena took a deep breath, winced, and slowly exhaled. “I’m sorry, Mike. It’s just…” she turned toward John, “I can tell something is wrong…Please tell me what it is…”
John rubbed her arm gently. “That’s why we’re here, Doc, but you have to calm down first.” She shot him an exasperated look. “Well, I’m *trying* to…maybe if you just *told* me already…” He chuckled and smoothed her hair back on her forehead. “All right already…and you call *me* impatient!”
Her mouth curved in a soft smile and she reached up to cup his cheek. John caught his breath at the warmth of her hand. She chuckled. “Well, maybe you’re starting to rub off on me.”

He bit his lip uncertainly and looked up at Mike. “Maybe…” He took a deep breath. “Tell me something, Doc…what is the *very* last thing that you can remember.”

Marlena frowned in concentration, eyes filling with visions of the past. “I remember being in the plane…I was telling the pilot to stop the plane but he wouldn’t…” She shut her eyes and winced in pain. “He *wouldn’t*! I begged him and begged him…and I looked out the window toward the tower, and…well, I know it sounds crazy, but…I *saw* you…I mean, I *knew* you were there…and I was crying and screaming…but he wouldn’t *stop*…he *wouldn’t*! And then we were up in the air, and I was so angry because I *knew* you were down there waiting for me…and then something happened and we were going down toward the water and all I could think was *NO* because you were so close…” She was trembling now, tears streaming down her face. John looked helplessly toward Mike who was watching Marlena with a worried, but resigned, frown. It’s too late to stop now.
John reached up to cup Marlena’s cheeks in his hands and brought his face to inches away from hers, wiping the tears away with his thumbs. “It’s okay, Doc.” He waited until she met his gaze with her pain-filled hazel eyes. “I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. We’re together. There’s no one between us. Do you hear me? Do you?” he asked fiercely. Marlena looked deep into his eyes, and, comforted by whatever she saw there, nodded slowly and relaxed back into the pillow. She reached up and wiped her eyes with her right hand as she captured his with her left and held it in a surprisingly strong grip.
She looked over at Mike and smiled reassuringly. “I’m okay, Mike. Don’t look so worried. Whatever it is…” she turned to look at John and repeated, “*Whatever* it is, I can handle it. I can handle anything as long as you’re with me.”
I hope so, Doc. John squeezed her hand. “Okay, Doc…What I have to tell you may be a little hard to grasp at first, but you have to trust me here, okay? I would never do or say anything to deliberately hurt you. You believe me, right?”
She gave him an are-you-kidding? look. “Of course I believe you. I trust you more than anyone in the entire world. You *know* that.” He nodded. “Okay, then.” He glanced up to the ceiling as if

asking for divine inspiration. “What you remember happening…the tower, the plane…it didn’t…it didn’t just happen a few days ago, Doc.” Marlena watched him calmly. “It didn’t? How long ago did it happen?” She turned her head toward Mike. “Was I in a coma again? Did I lose another 6 weeks?” Mike remained silent and looked pointedly at John. She turned back toward him. “Roman?”

John shook his head hesitantly. “It wasn’t a coma, Doc. And it wasn’t weeks.” He saw panic begin to rise in her eyes once again and reached up to squeeze her arm. She made a conscious effort to relax, unknotting her brow and carefully rotating her shoulders. She reached up to tentatively touch the bandage on her head. “You’re saying I’ve forgotten some period of time, right?” John nodded. Marlena shut her eyes, bit her lip, and asked in a light voice that fooled no one, “How long was it, then?”
After a few subjective millennia of silence, she opened her eyes to gaze at John, whose face held a mixture of dread and resignation. “You said it wasn’t weeks…Was it months?” Her eyes widened. “Years?” She saw the truth of it in John’s face, and her eyes filled with tears again. “Oh, God, not years…” Her grip on his hand tightened until it was nearly painful. John wished with all his heart that she wasn’t going through this, but there was no way around it. And it wasn’t finished yet.
Marlena took a few deep breaths, fighting the overwhelming feeling of panic that threatened to rise up from the pit of her stomach to choke her. It wasn’t over; she had to know *all* of it. She tugged on John’s hand to make him look up to meet her gaze and caught her breath at the pain in his eyes. But she had to know. “How long?”
John reached up to stroke her cheek, knowing the agony she’d feel in a few moments, angry that he was the one to cause it, and raging at the knowledge that he was helpless to do anything else. He squeezed her hand and stared into her eyes, hoping she could see the love there, praying it would be enough. “It’s been years, Doc…ten years.”
Marlena pulled her hand from John’s, crossed her arms over her stomach and curled over on her side, an instinctively defensive reaction that did nothing to stop the pain coursing through her body. She squeezed her eyes shut to stop the torrent of tears that had begun to flow. “Nooo…” she moaned. “Oh, God, no…it’s not true…it

*isn’t!*…no, please…” John reached for her hands, but was unable to get to them without hurting her. He hoisted himself up on the bed beside her, moving next to her until they were wedged together up against the railing on the other side. He carefully wrapped his arms around her and began to rock her slowly back and forth, her head tucked just under his chin. He kissed her hair softly, murmuring, “It’s okay, Doc…It’s okay…” over and over. He shot a wild, panicked look toward Mike and then Laura, who was standing in the doorway with tears running down her own cheeks. They shrugged, helplessly. It was all up to Marlena now.

It seemed like years to John but was really only minutes before Marlena’s panicked sobs dissolved into quiet, constant tears. Her tense body began to relax on his, and then she wrapped her own arms around his waist, unmindful of the angry stabs of pain shooting from her chest wound and the twinges from her forehead. She held him tightly, drawing strength from him, until her breathing calmed and the tears eventually slowed. Finally she tilted her head up toward his, eyes full of grief and sorrow. But when she spoke her voice was strong. “Ten years, huh?” He nodded.
She closed her eyes for a moment, then opened them and met his gaze, managing a tremulous smile in the process. “But I’m here…and you’re here…and as long as that’s true, I can get through anything.”
John leaned down and kissed her softly, lingeringly. “Well, I am here. And I’m not going anywhere. And neither is anyone else who loves you.”
She brought her hand up to his chest and used it to lever herself up into a sitting position. Her breathing was even now, and her voice was calm, if a bit unsteady. “You’re talking about the children, aren’t you?” She winced with sudden realization. “But they aren’t children anymore, are they? Are they all right?”
John eased back out of the bed so she could settle herself more comfortably among the pillows. “They’re fine. Sami and Carrie were outside waiting for news about you. I told them about…” he waved his hand uncertainly “…all this. They really want to see you, but Mike thinks maybe it ought to wait for a bit.” John realized the doctor had been right in that assessment when Marlena made no demur. She apparently felt she had reached her limit for the moment as well. But

she *was* handling it. Maybe this won’t be a total disaster after all. “And Eric?” she asked. “Eric’s in school in Colorado, Doc. I’m going to call him tonight and tell him you’re all right…and everything that’s going on.” She gripped his hand urgently. “I don’t want his life disrupted, okay? I’ll talk to him, tell him I’m fine…he doesn’t need to put his life on hold to come and see for himself, okay?”

John nodded at her. “Whatever you say, Doc.” He looked over at Mike, whose obvious concern had faded into slight unease mixed with tentative optimism. The doctor smiled at Marlena. “Okay, the plan is for you to stay here for two more days…you can spend the time playing catch-up on what’s been going on in the world. If you listen to your doctors and do what we say, you can go home in two days.” He looked over toward John. “Until then, I’m limiting your visitors to this man, here.” Marlena smiled, weakly. “You have a lot coming at you all at once and we want to be sure that you’re ready for it.” She gave him a slight nod. Mike reached over and placed his hand on top of hers. “If you need anything, call me, okay?” She nodded again. Mike gave her hand one last pat and turned and left the room.
When they were alone, John turned back toward Marlena. She compressed her lips to hold back the tears that were again threatening to flow, scooted over toward the far side of the bed, and patted the empty space next to her. Wordlessly, he climbed in and she eased into his arms, lying on her uninjured side with her head on his chest. She could feel the faint reassuring reverberation of his heartbeat under her cheek. They held each other quietly for a few moments. Finally John said “Doc?” in a slightly worried tone. She turned to look up at him and pulled him toward her for a kiss. “I’m all right, now. It was a shock…it *is* a shock and I’m still getting used to it, but I’ll be all right.” Her arms tightened about his chest. “Just don’t leave me, okay?”
He barely managed to resist the urge to give her a fierce hug, but some of the vehemence he was feeling echoed in his voice when he answered her. “Never!” He repeated the same promise silently to himself. Never again, Doc…I’ll never leave you again!
Chapter 11
John paused outside of the door of Marlena’s hospital room and took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the role of Marlena’s

concerned, loving husband. From the back of his mind a little voice warned him that the process was entirely too easy and comfortable. He mentally cautioned the little voice to shut up. Whatever Marlena needed she would get, he vowed to himself. No matter how much it would hurt him to give it all up when her memory returned.

He peered through the window to see Marlena sitting up in bed as she had been for most of the last two days, perusing a stack of pre-screened newspapers and magazines, vainly searching for some tidbit of information that would trigger her memory’s return. She’d reluctantly accepted Mike’s ban on other visitors, in spite of her desperation to see her children, but she’d refused to simply rest and regain her strength. He was worried about her, but he understood her need to try to remember better than anyone else in the world. Not having a past caused an almost physical pain. It broke his heart to know what she was enduring.
John schooled his expression into a smile and opened Marlena’s door. She looked up from the newspaper she’d been reading with her brow knitted in concentration, and the incredible beaming smile that came over her face lit up the room. His own smile changed from a forced grimace into an impish grin upon seeing it. “Catching up?” he asked lightly.
“What? Oh..” Marlena said, wrenching her gaze from his face and looking back down at the paper. She held it out in front of her and let the pages fall to the bed. “It’s amazing the things that happened in the world in just ten short years. The fall of Communism… some hellish, incomprehensible three-way war in Yugoslavia – excuse me, Bosnia-Herzegovina…three different presidents… three Olympics… something called the Macarena…” She looked up at him and shrugged. “And I know that all of it is real…but it doesn’t *seem* real, you know? It’s like reading fiction.”
John settled himself into the chair next to the bed, placing the stack of magazines and newspapers on the floor. “I know, Doc. I think that’s because this information doesn’t have all that much to do with your life. Mike thought it would be easier to start you out on world events and wait a bit to delve into those a little closer to home.”
She nodded. “I understand that. I *am* a doctor, remember. He wanted me to get some rest and get my strength back.” She held her

arms out, managing not to wince at the pain from her chest wound. “And I have. So do I get to leave today like he said?” Her eyes locked onto his, filled with equal parts hope and trepidation.

He exhaled slowly. “Yes, you do. I just finished all the paperwork and they’ll be sending up a wheelchair momentarily.”
“Good.” She ran her fingers nervously over the pleats of her nightgown and checked her ponytail to make sure it was straight. “I hope they send the nurse who was in my room when I woke up two days ago. I have a feeling I owe her an apology, because when I look back on it, she seemed incredibly confused when we spoke.” She sighed. “I probably know her…she’s probably my friend or something.” John held himself very still and asked casually, “Um, what nurse would that be?”
Marlena ran her fingers through her bangs, blowing a puff of air up to fluff them out and nearly crossing her eyes as she tried to gauge the effect. Finally conceding the futility of her efforts, she turned to John and smirked. “What do you mean, what nurse? The beautiful blonde one who came to see me after you left to get Mike.” She mistook his uneasy expression. “Oh, come on, Roman, you’re married – you’re not a priest. It’s okay to *look*. Besides, she’s pregnant.”
John managed to hide his astonishment.. “Oh, *her*…” Marlena laughed. “Yes, *her*. What’s her name, anyway?” John swallowed and essayed cautiously. “Kristen…uh, Blake. Kristen Blake.” “Mmmmm-hmmm,” she muttered distractedly, leaning over to pour herself a drink of water. She took a sip and glanced over at John. “So, *is* she my friend?” John shook his head cautiously. “Ahhh, I don’t really know. You’ve mentioned her a couple of times…I think she’s new.”
He glanced up to see if she had noticed his odd reaction, but Marlena wasn’t looking at him at all. She was staring down at her left hand holding the water glass, an indescribably sad expression on her face. A shaft of alarm pierced his heart. “Doc?” She shut her eyes briefly, then looked up and smiled regretfully. “I guess he got my ring, huh?”
“What?” She bit her lip. “The robber. I guess he took my ring before he shot me.” He reached over and removed the glass from her fingers, covering her hand with his own. “We’ll get you another ring, Doc.”
Marlena smiled at him tearfully. “But it won’t be the same, Roman.” She took a deep breath, swiped at her tears and said jokingly. “You

know, if I had known sooner that all it took to get jewelry from you was to wake up in a hospital bed, I’d have done it a lot more often. Of course, last time I got a proposal, too…”

He groaned. “Don’t even joke about that, Doc. It kills me to see you in here.”
She glanced at him tenderly, then looked startled, struck by a sudden thought. “Roman, what’s today?” He frowned in confusion at the change of subject, but told her. She nodded in satisfaction, then leaned over the side of the bed and took his face between her hands. She brought her lips to his in a kiss that began softly but soon became much more. He rose from the chair to put his arms around her and gently lowered her back on to the bed. They parted minutes later, both breathless. John traced Marlena’s lower lip with his thumb and asked, “What was *that* for? Not that I’m complaining…”
She grinned at him. “Happy belated anniversary, sweetheart. I love you.”
He felt his heart melt at her words. “I love you, too, Doc.” Instinctively he reached for her to kiss her again, but before he could do so they heard the door open and a nurse entered with a wheelchair. John turned back to Marlena and grinned. “Your chariot awaits, madam.” Her smile was like sunshine. “Finally!”
***
Carrie surveyed the living room of her childhood home and planted her hands on her hips in satisfaction. “I think that’s it, Sami.” Samantha’s reply was a muffled “What?” that drifted out from her position inside the cabinets next to the fireplace. She backed slowly out of the door, knocking her head on the shelf in the process and letting out an unladylike expletive. “What did you say?”
Carrie crossed the room to pick up one of the two boxes Sami had extracted from the cabinet. “I said I think we’re finished.” Sami plunked her box down on the table and pulled off the lid, grimacing and sneezing at the cloud of dust the movement stirred up. She scowled darkly. “Yeah, except for whatever it is that we’ve forgotten…oh, damn.”
“What is it?” Sami reached into the box and pulled out John and Marlena’s wedding picture. Carrie plucked it from her hands and wiped the dust off of the glass. She grinned upon seeing herself all self-

important in her flower-girl dress. “I remember being afraid that I was going to trip as I walked down the aisle.”

“Mmmph.” Sami averted her gaze from the picture and looked back down into the box. A glint of gold caught her eye. “What’s this?” She pulled out a charm bracelet. Carrie turned her gaze from the picture and glanced at the bracelet. “I’ve seen that before. John gave that to Marlena the Christmas after they were rescued from the pit.”
Sami shot her a disgusted look. “The Christmas before they had their affair, you mean.”
Carrie bit her lip and reached out to touch the charms. “I guess so…I don’t think I ever really looked at it that closely. She stopped wearing it…when she ended the affair, I guess… Oh, my God, Sami. Look at this…” “What?”
“These are our birthstones…He gave her charms representing us…” Sami held the bracelet up into the light, an uneasy, ambivalent expression on her face. “You’re right…What’s this one? Is it a *couch*?” That occasioned a strangled laugh.
Carrie grinned. “He always did have a warped sense of humor.” The half-smile fell from Sami’s face. “Yeah. So, what’s in your box?” Carrie took the lid off and peered into the box. “Just more pictures. I guess Marlena didn’t want Dad to see them.” She stared into the box for a few moments. “You know, it’s funny…I guess Marlena did five years ago what we’re trying to do now.” “What do you mean?”
Carrie picked up a picture of John, Marlena, Sami, Eric and herself dressed up in full Star Wars regalia. She sighed. “She tried to erase time – to pretend for Dad that she and John were never married, that he was never our dad…I sure hope this works better for us.”
“It won’t,” Sami said flatly. “I’m absolutely sure of it. But nobody listens to me, anyway. Let’s just take these up to the attic with all the others.” Carrie reached out to stop her from putting the lid back on her box. “No, Sami…these pictures have to go up on the mantle. It isn’t enough to remove the ones with Dad. This place has to look like John and Marlena have been living here for ten years.” She pulled out the wedding picture and walked over to the fireplace. She placed it on the center of the mantle. “What do you think?” “I think it’s a mistake – a *huge* mistake.”
Carrie whirled about and eyed her sister impatiently. “All right, I get it,

okay? You don’t think this is going to work. But you agreed to go along with it, and it’s too late to back out now. They’re going to be here any minute. So *help me* already!”

Sami sighed, scowled and grabbed the box of pictures. “Fine.” ***
John noted on the drive over that the closer they got to the house the more tense Marlena became. By the time they rolled into the driveway she was clutching the door handle so hard her knuckles were white. “Doc, you *have* to calm down.”
She shot him a wild-eyed look. “Calm down? Are you serious? I’m about to *meet* my children…children in my mind, that is. They’re adults now, Roman, and I don’t even know them. How am I supposed to do this? What am I supposed to say?
John fought down a slightly hysterical laugh. “Well, it’s not like there’s a manual for this situation, Doc.” He reached over and took her hand. It was cold as ice. “They love you, Doc, and you love them.
They’ll do everything they can to make this easier on you.” I hope. She
seemed to gain strength from his touch and nodded tentatively. “All
right, I’m ready.”
***
They’d just finished arranging the pictures to their satisfaction when the doorbell rang. Sami and Carrie looked at each other and then wildly about the room, hoping they’d managed to remove everything that needed removing. Carrie rubbed her hands on her jeans nervously. “I’ll get it.”
She walked over to the door and stood in front of it for a moment, trying to calm her breathing. Her hand shook on the doorknob, but she managed to turn it anyway and opened the door. John stood on the front walk, Marlena in his arms. Her face was buried in his neck, but as Carrie watched, she slowly raised her head and turned to look at her stepdaughter. Their eyes filled with tears simultaneously. “Oh, Carrie…” Carrie smiled at Marlena and stepped back out of the doorway so John could carry her into the living room. He nodded his thanks. Marlena laid her head back on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
John’s gaze swept the room as he gently lowered her onto the couch. His eyes rested on Sami where she stood silently next to the fireplace,

an indecipherable expression on her face. Better get it over with… “Sami?”

Marlena started and looked up at him. She turned to follow his gaze to see her daughter staring back at her with something akin to fear in her eyes. A small voice in the back of her head cried, No, that isn’t my baby girl…I couldn’t have missed that much time… But there was something of the familiar impossible, irrepressible nine-year-old in the girl’s wary expression and defiant stance. The tears in Marlena’s eyes spilled over and she reached a hand out to her daughter. “Sami?”
Seconds passed as fragments of thought raced through Sami’s mind. How do I feel? What do I do? But the thoughts made little sense, and her heart overcame them. Almost without conscious thought she found herself across the room seated on the couch next to her mother. Marlena’s tentative hand hovered centimeters from her cheek, a hint of questioning in her hesitance. Sami could only manage a small smile, but that was enough. “Oh, Sami,” her mother cried, enveloping her in a fierce hug made with total disregard for her injuries. “Oh, my baby girl…”
Sami held her mother tight, eyes locked on John’s over Marlena’s
shoulder. His eyes were filled with relieved tears, and he gave her a
proud nod. She nodded back fractionally, then shut her eyes, allowing
herself to become lost in the feel of her mother’s arms. “Welcome
home, Mom.”
Chapter 12
John stood in front of the fireplace, hands in his pockets, and stared at the pictures on the mantelpiece. He picked up one framed in silver – he and Marlena were holding each other, her wearing a bright yellow sweater, him with an incredibly happy, goofy smile on his face. We were so happy then. He sighed. Damn. Why is it that the things that should last forever never do? He shook his head and mentally castigated himself for his negative attitude. Following the revelation of his priestly background, he had found it easier to accept the difficulties of life. When they happened to him, anyway. But Marlena…Marlena mattered more than he did. Marlena mattered more than anything. He would give anything to protect her – offer his soul for her life, his life for her happiness. But something always seemed to hurt her in spite of him. And that tore at his heart like nothing else could.

He stared at the images of happy, smiling faces lined up on the mantle. Not this time, he vowed to Marlena, Sami, Carrie and Eric. This time I will protect her. I’ll do anything it takes. I swear that to you.

“John?” He turned to see Carrie standing at the foot of the stairs, a quizzical expression on her face. “Are you okay?”
He smiled. “I’m fine, punkin’. It’s just…a little odd to be here again, like this.” He let his gaze take in the walls, the furniture, the knickknacks. “This used to be *our* house, hers and mine.” He looked back at Carrie. “I remember the first night we came back here after we found out…” he paused, then continued, “…after we *thought* we found out that I was Roman Brady. We walked in the door…and she welcomed me home. I didn’t feel it then…I was so confused I barely knew where I was, let alone *who*. But Marlena, she was the only thing that made any sense at all – the one I held onto when the rest of the world spun out of control.”
Carrie nodded slowly, a slightly ashamed look on her face. “I do remember that night. I remember how awful I was to you…I guess I never apologized to you for that. I’m sorry, John.” He raised an eyebrow. “Why should you be sorry? After all, you *were* right. I wasn’t your father. I *was* a complete stranger trying to take his place.”
She walked over toward him, stopping a few feet away to cock her head to the side and grin slightly. “Well, you did a damn good job of it. I turned out pretty well, if I do say so myself. And a lot of that is due to you. You were a good father to us, John…In a lot of ways, you still are.”
John was visibly touched by this, but waved his hand in a half-hearted gesture of dismissal. “But it wasn’t fair to Roman…”
Carrie shook her head. “You know, I can’t understand why you always let him – and the rest of us – make you feel responsible for that. It wasn’t your fault that Stefano decided to brainwash you into thinking you were Dad. Dad was *gone*, John. And whether you came or not, I don’t think Stefano would have let him go. All your ‘not coming’ would have meant is that when he decided to take Marlena as well, Eric, Sami, and I would have been alone.” She grimaced slightly. “I probably would have had to go live with my mom in Europe. Grandma and Grandpa would have taken Sami and Eric. And they would have

done their best for them. But it wouldn’t have been what we had with you. We wouldn’t have been together, and we would have felt…all alone in the world.” She reached out and gripped his arm tightly. “We had a *great* childhood with you, John. Full of love and fun and family. And I think that’s what Daddy couldn’t stand. That we didn’t miss him every day of our lives.” She took a deep breath. “And I think that’s really selfish of him – to prefer that his children…and Marlena…had been alone for all that time.”

The look John gave her was slightly ill. “Oh, Carrie, I don’t think he wanted that.” She looked him straight in the eye. “See? Even you can’t say it like you believe it.”
“Carrie, your father went through hell.” Her gaze was clear and sad. “So did you.” He had no reply for that. They simply stared at each other in silence until the stillness was shattered by a knock on the door. Carrie crossed the living room to the door and opened it to find Sami in the doorway. She looked from Carrie to John. “Am I too early?”
John shook his head. “No, you’re right on time. Marlena isn’t awake yet. She was in a lot of pain at about four o’clock this morning so I made her take some medication. She should be out for a few more hours. In fact, we’ll probably be back from the family meeting before she wakes up. But in case we aren’t…well, don’t tell her anything-”
Sami nodded impatiently. “Anything about the last ten years – I *know* that, John. Did you think one night’s sleep would make me forget everything we decided?”
He sighed and put the picture down on the coffee table. “Of course not. But I’m finding out how hard it is to remember what you can and can’t say. And the littlest thing could tip her off.”
Sami’s expression was slightly mollified as she flopped down onto the couch with a noisy sigh. She looked up at them expectantly. “Don’t you guys have to go? Everyone’s probably at the Pub by now. They were coming in as I dropped Will off.” John nodded and turned to Carrie. “Did you get hold of Austin?”
Carrie shook her head. “He was over at Victor’s with Kate and Billie last night. I left a message with Henderson for him to call me here, but he never did. I’m going to run over to Titan and pick him, Kate and Billie up and bring them over to the Pub.”

Sami scowled. “Kate? Why Kate? This isn’t any of *her* business.” John held up his hand to forestall another argument. “We have to tell anybody who might try to get in touch with Doc, not just the family.” Sami’s scowl dissolved into a slight frown. He eyed her sympathetically. “I know you don’t like her – but she’s Marlena’s friend, and she’ll find out about this eventually. It’s better to tell everyone at once, don’t you think?”

“I guess,” Sami muttered, noisily plunking her feet on the coffee table in a minor show of defiance. He ignored it with a slight wry smile. After all, it’s not actually my furniture anymore. He leaned down swiftly and, before she could react, kissed her on the cheek. Sami looked up at him, eyes wide. “Good luck, sweetheart.” He and Carrie headed for the door, leaving Sami openmouthed in shock. ***

Kristen sat in one of the front booths in the Brady Pub ostentatiously drinking a large glass of milk. She eyed her brother over the rim and whispered out of the side of her mouth, “Is it just me or is everyone staring at me?” Peter’s glance darted around the room. “It’s not just you. They’re probably wondering why you’re here, Kristen. I mean, they probably figure John’s already told you what’s going on.”
Kristen grimaced. “Well, I was there when he thought of this *brilliant* plan. And he managed to sandwich in *one* confirming phone call to me during the two days when he wouldn’t leave Marlena’s bedside for more than a few minutes. But I still can’t believe it. I want to hear him actually *tell* the Bradys that he’s going to pretend to be their son again. I want to hear him try and make it sound like a rational, logical thing to do.”
Peter pursed his lips and said archly, “No, what you want to hear is them telling him ‘No way in hell!'” He sighed. “It’s not going to happen, Krissy. John’s going to explain what Mike and Laura told him and everyone here is going to agree to go along with their plan.”
Kristen lowered her eyes, a petulant expression on her face. “Well, I can dream, can’t I?” She abruptly slammed the glass down on the table, causing droplets of milk to erupt in every direction. She noticed Bo and Hope watching her from the next table, questioning expressions on their faces. She smiled wanly and turned back to her brother, her whisper low and vehement. “I cannot *believe* this is

happening. I thought it was a gift from God that Marlena forgot everything I did and everything she knows about me. I was positive that was the absolute *best* thing that could possibly ever happen!”

Peter covered her hand in sympathy. “Well, you know what they say, Krissy – Be careful what you wish for.” She shot him a disgusted look. “Oh, just shut up.”
“John!” Shawn’s call from the back of the Pub alerted the crowded restaurant that John had finally arrived. He stood in the door for a moment, eyeing the assembly uncertainly, until a tap on the shoulder caused him to move out of the way as Carrie, Austin and Billie came in behind him. He surveyed the crowd and nodded in satisfaction. Everyone was here. Except…
“Carrie, where’s Kate?” Carrie shrugged. “I don’t know. Austin said she was in the office this morning, but when we went looking for her, no one knew where she was. We can fill her in later, though.”
He swallowed. “Right.” He walked over to the bar, nodding at people as he weaved among the tables. Laura and Mike were already standing at the bar next to Caroline. Good. Nothing like a couple of reliable medical opinions to back up an insane plan of action. He turned toward the crowd and cleared his throat. “Okay, people, I guess you all know why we’re here. I need to talk to you about Marlena…” ***
Sami remained where she was on the couch, mind racing, her hand on the cheek John had kissed. I know how you feel about Mom, John. Is that why you’re doing this? Or is it because Mike and Laura say it’s the best thing to do? Or is it both reasons? She sighed and flung her purse onto the coffee table in frustration. The strap struck the photograph, causing it to skitter across the wood toward her. She picked it up and stared at John and Marlena’s smiling faces. They still look the same. This was taken ten years ago, but they look the same. Why? And why am I so angry and so sad at the same time?…And why did you kiss me, John? She leaned forward to set the picture back on the coffee table and idly began collecting the items that had spilled from her purse. A photo peeking out of her datebook caused her to pause. She slowly slid it from its hiding place. It was a photo from a few weeks after Will was born, showing her and Austin and Will, with Will in her arms and Austin beaming down at him. It looked like a

happy family portrait, but Sami knew how false that was. She picked up the picture of John and Marlena and held it up next to the photo, and the difference was glaringly apparent. The look of love in Austin’s eyes had nothing to do with Sami, unlike John’s adoring gaze on Marlena. Sami closed her eyes in pain. Why can’t Austin look at *me* like that? Why can’t *we* be a family?

“Sami?” Her mother’s voice caused her to jump. She turned her head
to find Marlena staring over her shoulder at the picture of Austin and
Will. “Who’s that?”
***
After he had come to the end of his explanation and Mike and Laura had added their emendations and their audience had exhausted all its questions, John stopped and waited for vociferous vocal reaction. There was none. The room was totally silent. Everybody stared at their tablecloths or their table- mates, many darting quick glances toward Kristen as if attempting to gauge her reaction to this remarkable plan. She fought to keep her visage impassive, despite the fact that she was seething inside.
Finally, John could stand it no more and turned to Caroline. “Caroline? What do you think?” She simply looked at him for a moment, hands absentmindedly rubbing a cloth over the same glass she had been polishing for the last twenty minutes. She turned to look at Shawn, whose expression was a mixture of doubt and resignation. She turned back to John, carefully placed the glass on the counter and picked up his hand. “I think…I think that you should call me Mom.”
He released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding. “Are you sure?” She nodded, eyes bright, her grip warm and steady. “I’m sure.” John gave her a relieved smile and turned to Shawn with a feeling of trepidation. If there were anyone in the Brady family who would strongly object to the plan, it would be Shawn. Marriage and loyalty and family…these were sacred to Shawn Brady. The silence between them lengthened, until Shawn finally sighed, “I guess that makes me Pop again.” He mustered up a wry smile. “‘Course that means you’ll be doin’ as I say now.”
John allowed himself a relieved grin. “Whatever you say, Pop.” It was as if this exchange opened the floodgates, and suddenly everyone in the room was talking at once. John felt relief flooding through his

veins. I should have known they’d be willing to do anything for

Marlena… He had actually begun to relax until he felt a tug on his
sleeve and turned to meet Kristen’s gaze. The room fell silent, so her
statement sounded unnaturally loud in the stillness. “John, we need to
talk.”
***
Sami shoved the photo back into her purse and pasted a shaky smile on her face. “Who is who, Mom?”
Her mother gave her a Don’t give me *that*, little girl look. It had been so long since she had seen that expression on Marlena’s face that Sami had to choke back a slightly hysterical laugh. She held up the framed picture. “It’s you and J-Daddy, Mom. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what you look like, too.”
Her mother grinned wryly. “Very funny, Sami. You know who I’m talking about.” She pushed away from the back of the couch she’d been using for support, grimacing slightly at the pain. Sami leapt up from the couch to help Marlena seat herself in the cushions. The pallor of her mother’s face alarmed her. She bit her lip, remembering John’s admonitions. She can’t get upset, Sami. That’s the worst thing for her. She has to remain calm. Sami looked up to the ceiling for divine inspiration. Well let’s see – Uh, gee, Mom, I got pregnant at 17 by my sister’s boyfriend after I drugged him to force him to have sex with me. But I got my GED so everything’s just peachy-keen. Except that he hates me, Carrie hates me – Well, the whole damn town hates me. Don’t you wish you could remember? Oh, God, what the hell do I say? She watched in horror as Marlena reached into the purse and extracted the picture. She heard her mother catch her breath and saw the sheen of tears in her eyes as she turned to look at her daughter. Sami reached over and plucked the picture from her nerveless grip.

“Sami? Is there something you want to tell me?” Sami stared blindly down at the picture, knowing that Marlena couldn’t fail to see it for what it was – mother and child. How would her mother react to knowing her daughter was an unwed teenage mother? How much stress would that cause? John hadn’t even been gone an hour and already she was messing up her mother’s life. She hesitantly raised her gaze to meet Marlena’s. The empathy she saw there was nearly her undoing. “He’s yours, isn’t he, Sami?” her mother asked tenderly.

“Or is it a little girl?”

Sami’s finger gently traced her son’s face as tears began to stream down her cheeks. “No, he’s a little boy. His name is Will.” She swiped at her tears and rubbed them away where they landed on the picture. She looked up at her mother and smiled. “You were there when he was born. He was…sick at first and we were so worried about him and you were there the whole time. That meant so much to me – I never told you that but it did.”
Marlena’s eyes were wide, full of tenderness and something Sami was alarmed to identify as a mixture of growing fear and pain. She saw more blood drain from Marlena’s face, her skin growing visibly paler. Oh God, Mom, what have I done?
Her mother’s voice was faint. “Of course I was there, where else would I have been?” Sami reached out and clasped her hand. “Nowhere. Oh God, Mom, please don’t get upset. I promise – you love Will, you really do, and so do I and so does Austin. You don’t have to be upset, *please*!”
Marlena’s grip was so strong it was almost painful. “Austin? Is he the boy in the picture?” She thought her mother was about to faint. Marlena’s eyes were dilated and her breath came in short gasps. Sami nodded fiercely. “Yes, Austin…Austin Reed. He’s a wonderful father, he takes wonderful care of Will and he loves him so much…”
“And you?” Marlena shut her eyes, visibly fighting to keep herself under control. She lifted a trembling hand to blindly cup her daughter’s cheek. “He loves you, doesn’t he? He loves my little girl.”
Oh my God. Oh, what do I say? Help me… Sami shut her own eyes and took a deep breath. She opened them to see Marlena staring at her, an expression of such hope on her face that it caused a shaft of pain to knife into Sami’s heart. She slowly exhaled and finally nodded. “Yes, Mom, he loves me very much.” Marlena looked a little relieved at that but still considerably agitated. What can I do? She’s so upset…
Sami laid a hand on her mother’s knee, gazed straight into her eyes and said with an uncertain smile, “In fact, he’s my husband.”
Marlena watched her for a moment as if searching her statement for flaws. Finally she smiled gently and the color began to seep back in her cheeks. She shook her head slightly and said ruefully, “I’m sorry, honey. I guess in my mind you’re still nine years old. But I can see that

you aren’t.” She looked down at the picture. “And I can see that you and…your husband love your son very much.” She looked back up at Sami and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Don’t look so worried. I’m okay. Really.”

“Are you s-” The ringing of the doorbell interrupted Sami. She shot her mother an apologetic look and got up to answer it. Since no one they knew was aware they were here, it was probably the Girl Scouts with cookies or something. Good idea. Maybe a couple of boxes of peanut-chocolate clusters would help. Sami opened the door, her eyes unconsciously at Girl-Scout-level and in consequence faced with the ornate buttons of an expensive designer suit. Her gaze traveled upward to meet the triumphant gaze of Kate Roberts. “Hello, Sami.”

Chapter 13
Marlena heard the shrill ring of the doorbell faintly over the rushing vortex in her ears. She stared down at the picture of her little girl with her grandson…and her son-in-law. Son- in-law…grandson… The words sounded over and over in her brain, almost drowning out the sound of conversation in the doorway. But the panicked tones in her daughter’s voice caused her to raise her head. She saw an elegant woman standing in the doorway, wearing a striking designer suit and an oddly triumphant smile. An elegant woman who looked vaguely familiar…
“Kate? Is that you?”
Both women turned toward her, a look of satisfaction coming into Kate’s eyes at the expression of terror on Sami’s face. ***

John halted in the doorway of the DiMera house, scanning the foyer with a vaguely uncomfortable look. Kristen paused at the entrance of the living room, turned back and reached for his hand to lead him inside. “Come on, silly. Stop acting like you’ve never seen the house before.” She smiled. “After all, this is your home, too.”
He smiled gamely. “Oh, I know, it’s just that…well, Sami’s all alone at the house and I really want to get back before Doc wakes up.” He shot an obviously longing glance over his shoulder toward the front door.
Kristen bit her lip to hide her frustration. “I’m sure Sami can handle it, John. I need to talk to you.” She rubbed her hand over her belly and

watched in satisfaction as a flash of guilt crossed John’s face. She reached up to caress his cheek with her left hand, making sure the sparkling diamond engagement ring caught his gaze. He sighed and nodded in acceptance, seating himself on the couch. “Okay, what’s up?”

Kristen snorted in disbelief. “What’s up? What do you mean, ‘what’s up’? My fiancé is pretending to be the husband of his ex-wife and has somehow persuaded the whole town to pretend that he’s someone he’s not, and you’re asking me ‘what’s up’?”
He looked a bit impatient. “You know why we’re doing this, Kristen. Laura and Mike explained it to everyone again today. We have to protect Doc.” He tried to hide his exasperation as he patted her hand gingerly. “I know how much you care about her, and I know you want to do what’s best for her. And this *is* what’s best. I promise.”
Yeah, right. It took all of her concentration to squelch an angry sneer. Kristen lowered her gaze so that John wouldn’t see her true feelings reflected in her face. She pinched the tender skin between her thumb and forefinger, forcing tears to her eyes, and injected a pathetic waver into her voice. “I *do* want to help Marlena…but I can’t help thinking…” His voice softened. “Can’t help thinking what, Kristen?” She sniffed and wiped away a tear. “Oh, a lot of things. Like if she had arrived ten minutes later we’d be married…and our baby would be safe…and also that Marlena is going to be really unhappy when she finds out how everyone is lying to her.”
John put a finger under her chin, tilted her head up and looked her right in the eye. “The baby *is* safe, Kristen. And ten more minutes might have been the difference between life and death for Doc. Nothing matters more than that.” He grimaced. “As for her reaction when she finds out we’ve been lying…well, hopefully that’ll mean she’s regained her memory, and she’ll understand everything we had to do.” “But how long will it be before that happens, John? How long will *our*”- she patted her belly in emphasis -“life be on hold? What about *our* plans, *our* dreams?” Suddenly she gripped his hand urgently, pretending to be struck by a wonderful new thought. “*I* know what we could do – a way we could protect Marlena and have what *we* want at the same time!”
John regarded her warily. “How?” Kristen smiled at him and squeezed

his hand lovingly. “We could get married – right now, today. We have the license and everything. We could just find a judge or a justice of the peace and become Mr. and Mrs. John Black before dinnertime.” She closed her eyes and sniffed nobly. “It doesn’t matter to me if we don’t have a big ceremony. All I want is to be married to the man I love.” She peered at him expectantly under her lowered lashes, pleased to have formulated such a perfect solution. By the time you remember everything, Marlena, it’ll be too late and John will be mine. Forever.

But John was shaking his head regretfully. “I’m sorry, Kristen, but I can’t do that.” He frowned, trying to frame his explanation in a way that would make sense to her. “See, it’s necessary that we lie to her about this much – we don’t have a choice. But marrying you now – that would make the lie we’re living so much worse.” He rubbed his hands on his thighs in frustration at his inability to make his misgivings clearer, but finally sighed and held up his hands. “I can’t explain it, Kristen…but it’s just not possible for us to get married right now.” He reached over and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I know this is hard on you.”
Kristen fought desperately to keep anger from her face and managed reasonably well. She took his hand. “You know that if Marlena was in her right mind she would *never* allow us to give up our lives for her sake,” she argued.
“If Marlena was in her ‘right mind’, as you put it, none of this would be necessary.” He extricated his hand from hers and stood up. “But she’s not all right, and this *is* necessary. We have to do everything it takes to make sure she isn’t hurt anymore. That’s the *only* thing that matters.” He looked down at his watch and pursed his lips. “I’m sorry, Kristen, I’ve got to go.” John leaned down and gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek, straightened, and strode swiftly from the room without a backward glance.
Kristen clenched her teeth and her fists as she heard the front door slam. “No, John, you’re wrong. The only thing that matters is *us*. Marlena doesn’t matter at all. I’ll find a way to get you away from her.” She rubbed her belly soothingly. “I promise you, little baby, I’ll get your daddy back for us. I’ll do whatever it takes.” A glint of steel came into her eyes. “*Whatever* it takes.”

Standing unnoticed in the shadows surrounding the entryway into the dining room, Rachel Blake watched her daughter and prayed. ***

This is a nightmare and I’m going to wake up now. Sami closed her eyes and opened them again, but the picture in front of her remained unchanged. Oh, God. Kate Roberts was standing in the living room, regarding Marlena with an expression that Sami had seen before, weeks ago, when Kate had smiled a shark’s smile and inquired if Sami had packed enough drugs for her trip with Austin – an expression that meant she was about to expose all of Sami’s lies. You couldn’t even wait for mom to recover, could you Kate? Oh, no, you had to come and tell her everything I’ve done at the first possible moment. Why? You got what you wanted. Why are you doing this to me?
She reached out to catch Kate’s arm and pasted a weak smile on her face. “Kate, Mom just got out of the hospital and she’s really not up for visitors yet.”
Marlena waved a weak hand from her position on the couch. “It’s all right.” She peered at Kate closely for a moment as a slow smile dawned across her face. “It *is* you. I can’t believe it.”
Kate shot Sami a smug glance and glided across the room to seat herself next to Marlena on the couch. She reached up to lightly touch the bandage on Marlena’s forehead. “Are you all right?”
Marlena shot Sami a rueful glance and stifled a yawn. “Not exactly. But I’m getting there. Mike says I’m healing as quickly as can be expected – physically at least.” She smiled tenderly at her daughter. “Sami’s been taking very good care of me.”
“Uh-huh, sure,” Kate remarked in a disbelieving tone. She looked from mother to daughter and back again, confused by the loving expression on Marlena’s face and the abject fright on Sami’s. What was the little witch up to now? She turned back to Marlena and reached for the picture in her hand. “What’s this?”
Oh God, Oh God, Oh God. Sami stood frozen where she was, unable to think of anything to say that would halt the train wreck she saw happening before her. Everyone thinks you’re such a good liar, Sami, she told herself sarcastically, but you can’t think of one single thing to say that will keep your mother’s world from blowing up.
Oblivious to her daughter’s frantic thoughts, Marlena regarded the

photo in her hand with a soft smile and said in a voice full of wonderment, “That’s my grandson.”

Kate smiled in response. “Yes. He’s really something, isn’t he?” A dark cloud came over Marlena’s face. She closed her eyes and sighed. “I don’t really know.”
Sami strode quickly around the other end of the couch and reached for Marlena’s arm. She shot a killing glance at Kate but managed to keep her voice low and soothing. “Come on, Mom. You should be in bed. Daddy made me promise to see that you rested until he got back, and he’s not back yet, so let’s get you upstairs.”
Kate frowned. “Roman? But I thought-” Sami interrupted Kate before she could reveal anything, saying quickly, “Yes, Daddy’s at the Pub with the rest of the family. He’s telling them about how Mom’s forgotten the past ten years because of her head injury and how we have to be *really* really careful not to upset her or overload her with too much information too soon.” Kate’s eyes widened in disbelief, and she let out a short bark of laughter. “Oh, *sure*, Sami.”
Marlena looked from Sami’s face to Kate’s, her brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s true, Kate.” She smiled wanly. “I don’t remember anything about the last ten years. I look at my little girl…and I can’t believe that she isn’t nine years old anymore.” She closed her eyes, her face once again pale as parchment, and squeezed Sami’s hand. “I think you might be right, sweetheart. I’d best go back up to bed ’til your daddy gets home.” She stood up slowly on shaky legs and looked down at Kate. “It’s good to see you again, Kate. I hope you’ll come back soon.”
Kate and Sami watched her as she made her way across the room and slowly ascended the stairs. Sami shot an uncertain glance at Kate and crossed to the foot of the steps, peering upward to make sure her mother was out of earshot. When she was convinced there was no danger of being overheard, she whirled on Kate and spat out in an angry voice, “What the *hell* are you doing here?”
Kate tried for another triumphant smile, but the doubt in her eyes spoiled the effect. “Afraid I was going to tell your mother about all your sins, Sami?”
Sami’s eyes blazed with anger and her hands fisted at her sides. “No! I’m afraid you’re going to let your need for revenge – or whatever the

*hell* it is that makes you so damn concerned about everything I do – I’m afraid you’re going to let it destroy my mother. I won’t let you do that, Kate. You stay the hell away from her, do you *hear* me?” Her voice rose to a shout, and she clapped her hand over her mouth and tried to slow her breathing. I’ve got to calm down or Mom will hear.

Kate raised an eyebrow. “My, my, my. Such concern for your dear mother. Funny how it only appears when *you* need something, isn’t it?” Sami crossed her arms and glared at Kate. “What does *that* mean?”
Kate took two steps forward and shook her index finger in Sami’s face. “It means that I know you, Sami Brady. I know you better than anyone
– certainly better than your poor mother. She may be blind to your true character because of her regrets at not being there during your childhood and the guilt she feels over her affair with John. But I see you as you really are, and I know that you don’t care about Marlena at all. You were just afraid that I would tell her all of the horrible things you’ve done. The only person *you* care about is Sami Brady.”
Sami’s cheeks grew red, and angry sparks brightened her eyes. Her voice was low and vehement. “You get the hell out of here, Kate Roberts. I want you out of my house *right now*!”
They both turned at the sound of footsteps on the cement walk. John stepped through the door that Sami had left ajar and cast a worried glance toward the staircase. He looked back at them, frowning in alarm. “What is going *on* here?”
Sami raced over to John’s side, relief mixing with the anger on her face. “Oh, thank God you’re here.” She shot a venomous look toward Kate. “Kate somehow found out Mom was here and just had to race right over here to tell her everything that I’d done.”
“What!?!” Kate held up her hand to calm him. “I overheard Carrie talking to Austin at Titan about how Marlena came here after being released from the hospital, and I wanted to come make sure she was all right.”
John’s voice rose with urgency. “You didn’t tell her anything, did you?” He looked down at Sami. “Did you explain to her about the amnesia?” “I tried to! But Mom was down here when she came in and I was afraid Kate would let something slip about the last ten years before I could get Mom up to bed.” Her lip curled. “Didn’t I mention to you that Kate’s

made it her *mission* in life to make mine a living hell?”

John shot Kate an annoyed glance. “For God’s sake, Kate, Marlena was shot only three days ago. Couldn’t this have waited?” Kate attempted a conciliatory smile. “Look, John, I simply thought Marlena could use some happy news. I know she wanted Carrie and Austin back together and I wanted to let her know that it had finally happened.”
He eyed her disbelievingly. “Don’t you think Carrie and Austin can handle that themselves?” He looked down at Sami’s stricken face. “In fact, maybe you should let *them* handle their *own* lives from now on. They *are* adults, and they have to learn to handle their own problems. As for Marlena…I’d appreciate it if you’d leave her alone for the time being.”
Kate cocked her head. “Are you serious about the amnesia, John? Marlena doesn’t remember anything about the last ten years?”
He shook his head. “No, she doesn’t.” He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “She still thinks I’m Roman. She thinks we’re married, that this-” he waved an expansive hand “-is our house, and Sami-” he rested the hand on her shoulder “-is our daughter.” Sami gave him a small smile and allowed his hand to remain where it was. She raised an ironic eyebrow at Kate.
Kate frowned. “What about Brady and Belle? What about your *job*, John?”
“She doesn’t know about Brady and Belle. We haven’t told her. Can you imagine the shock of finding out you have children you don’t even remember, Kate? The *point* of this charade is to keep Marlena from becoming upset. As for the job…well, Abe is going to arrange it so that any call Marlena makes to the cop shop gets relayed to me.” His lip quirked. “Not that I’ll be going to ‘work’ for awhile. I think it’s perfectly natural for a husband to stay home with his wife after she’s been shot twice, don’t you?”
Kate nodded doubtfully. “If you say so, John…um, excuse me, *Roman*.” She sent Sami a malicious look. “But if you’re expecting Sami to protect Marlena from shocking news about the past ten years, then you’re depending on the wrong person.”
“What is *that* supposed to mean?” “It means,” she said archly, “that when I walked into this room, Marlena was looking at a photograph –

and when I asked her who was in it she said ‘My grandson.'” She smiled at the anger and disbelief that crossed John’s face. “And *our* grandson, if you’ll remember, is considerably less than ten years old.” She shot one last triumphant glance toward Sami and walked out the front door.

Sami slammed the door behind Kate, muttering under her breath, then
turned to see John regarding her with a face that held a mixture of
anger and betrayal.
“What did you do, Sami?”
Chapter 14
Sami flinched at the biting anger in John’s voice. She tried to arrange her face into an unconcerned expression but couldn’t quite pull it off. Instead she walked over toward the fireplace, keeping her back to John. “What do you mean?”
“Kate said Doc was looking at a picture of Will! She said Doc called him her grandson. Is that true?” He reached out and grasped her shoulder, turning her to face him, and saw the truth in her face. “Dammit, Sami, what were you thinking? How could you-”
“I didn’t do it on purpose!” she burst out, hating herself for the pleading note in her voice. She shook off his hand and shot back accusingly, “*You* said she’d be asleep for hours! I thought she was going to stay zonked out upstairs until you got back. I was just sitting on the couch looking at-” She glanced at the picture of John and Marlena still resting on the coffee table, stopped talking abruptly, and turned her back on him again, only to find herself faced with even more pictures of the two of them lined up on the mantle. She sighed.
Behind her John fought for control of his anger and exasperation. He reached for her shoulder again, but this time his touch was gentler. “Looking at what?”
Sami’s shoulders slumped. “Looking at that picture of you and Mom,” she said defeatedly. “And then I spilled some stuff out of my purse and when I was putting it back in I saw a picture of me and Austin and Will.” She bit her lip. “I was…comparing them when I heard a noise behind me.” She shut her eyes. “It was Mom – she was looking at the picture and she asked me who they were.”
John sighed. “And what did you tell her?” Sami looked up at the ceiling. “What was I supposed to tell her? It was obvious from the

picture that Will is my son. That’s what she said – ‘He’s yours, isn’t he?’ And I said that he was.” She clenched and unclenched her fists in frustration. “What was I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, Sami,” John admitted in a quiet voice. “What did *Doc* say?” Sami turned back toward him and regarded him unhappily. “Not much, really. She just turned really pale and her voice got very faint. I started babbling…I don’t really remember what I said, something about her not worrying because she loved Will and *I* loved Will and Austin did, too. So she asked me who Austin was and I said he was Will’s father. And then she asked me did he love me, too.” She compressed her lips and looked down at the floor.
John reached out and tipped her chin up toward him, forcing her to meet his gaze. “And you said…” Her eyes darted toward the stairs and back again, full of uncertainty. Will you believe me? Or will you think I did it to hurt her? Finally she burst out, “I told her that he did love me – but I did it because I was afraid of how she’d react if she knew the truth, John! I mean, being an unwed teenage mother is a bad enough; I didn’t think she could handle finding out *how* I got pregnant!”
He rubbed his forehead tiredly and began to shrug out of his jacket. “You may be right about that. Exactly *what* did you tell her?” He laid his jacket on the arm of the couch.
Sami hugged her arms to her chest. “I told her Austin and I were married and that we were really happy.” She winced at the pained expression that crossed his face. “And I was right to say that,” she argued. “The color came back to her face and she stopped trembling and shaking. I swear, John, I thought she was going to pass out or something – that’s the only reason I said what I did.”
He regarded her silently for a few moments. She could see the doubt and distrust in his eyes, and it made her angry. “I am *not* using what happened to her for my own purposes, John, no matter what Kate Roberts says! The only thing *I* care about is Mom getting well.”
John caught the emphasis she placed on the pronoun. “Why did you say it like that, Sami?” She gave him a mutinous look. “I meant that *I* wouldn’t do anything to take advantage of the fact that she doesn’t remember the last ten years.”
“Are you saying *I* would?” There was no mistaking the hurt in his eyes. Instantly she regretted her outburst, but as had happened so

many times before, her anger had prevented her from thinking before she spoke. Damn.

Her expression softened. “I found the letter, John. I know how you feel about Mom – how you’ve never *stopped* feeling about her. I guess I was implying that you could use the fact that she still thinks you guys are married to make her love you again. You wouldn’t, would you?” It wasn’t quite a rhetorical question.
John looked stunned. “*My* letter? What letter are you talking about?” “The letter you wrote when you thought you were going to die. I found it in Mom’s things when I was packing her stuff at Kristen’s. She kept it with a bunch of pictures of you two with Brady and Belle.” She watched him, puzzled. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Are you saying she’s read the letter I wrote to her when I was waiting to be executed? Doc *knows* how I feel?”
Sami cocked an eyebrow at him, confused. “Of course she knows! It’s *her* letter.”
He turned toward the stairs, a faraway look in his eye. “I didn’t think she ever read it,” he said softly. “She never said anything…”
Sami didn’t know what to say. “I don’t understand this, John. Why did you write Mom that letter if you didn’t want her to know how you feel about her? And if you love Mom then *why* are you marrying Kristen? And why the hell didn’t you just *tell* her how you felt?”
John gave her a You *know* why look. “Oh,” she said. “You didn’t tell her because of before.” She bit her lip and looked away.
“Exactly,” he said softly. “I didn’t want to hurt her – or anyone else – the way I did the last time I told her how I felt. I thought she didn’t love me anymore, and I didn’t want to burden her with *my* feelings.” He sighed. “I guess I made the right decision, then. If she read the letter and she didn’t say anything to me…well, now I know for sure how she feels. She doesn’t love me.”
Well, damn, Sami thought. Why do I feel sorry for *him*? “I don’t know what to say, John.”
He gave her a grim smile. “You don’t have to say anything. And you don’t have to worry. I would never use Marlena’s amnesia to my advantage. Remember, I know exactly how it feels to have large parts of your life totally blanked out – and I’ve had people try to use it against me. I could never do that to Marlena. I agreed to all of this because

Mike and Laura said it was best for Doc – that’s the only reason.” He gazed at her steadily, trying to communicate his sincerity with his eyes. “I promise, Sami.”

She watched him for a moment, uncertain. I believe you, John. But how long can you hold out against her when she loves you so much – and wants to be with you, to make love to you. If this were Austin and me – I could never do it. How can *you*? Sami took a deep breath. “Okay, John.”
He squeezed her arm in gratitude and looked back toward the stairs. “I’d better go see how she’s doing.” He turned back to Sami. “Thanks for staying with her.”
She gave him an ironic smile. “Sure, no problem at all.” They simply looked at each other for a moment, until Sami finally broke the silence. “Well, I guess I’d better go pick up Will.” John let go of her arm and nodded. “All right. See you later.” He turned and started up the stairs. Sami watched him go. “See you,” she said softly. ***

Marlena lay curled on her side on top of the king-sized bed in the master bedroom, one large pillow clutched to her stomach with her right arm and the picture of her grandson held in her left hand. She stared at it, tears coursing down her face. How could you forget your own grandson, Marlena? How *could* you? Objectively, as a doctor, she understood the mechanics of amnesia. She knew the person who forgot was not to blame – hell, her experiences with Roman bore that out as nothing else could. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember so many details of their life together, and she *didn’t* blame him. But somehow it was different when it was she who had forgotten – maybe because it was her responsibility to safeguard their memories. Don’t be silly, Marlena. You still remember everything that Roman forgot – and now he’ll simply do the same for you. She smiled tearily. Talk about your strange family dynamics!
She heard heavy footsteps in the hallway outside the bedroom. Roman, she thought. I don’t want him to see me this upset. He’s worried enough about me as it is. Marlena knew he wasn’t aware that *she* knew he hadn’t slept at all last night. She had lain quietly in his arms as he stroked her hair, periodically gathering her to him and kissing the top of her head, her cheeks, and once, toward midnight,

her lips. He’d murmured things to her, nonsense words in a voice too low for clear understanding. The pain of her injuries made it difficult to sleep in anything other than total silence, but she hadn’t cared. The feel of his arms and his lips had been better medicine than any drugs could possibly be. But she’d felt the fear and worry emanating from his embrace. He was terribly afraid for her, she knew. And she didn’t know how to reassure him, because she didn’t understand the fear.

The hinge creaked slightly as he opened the door. She swiped hurriedly at her cheeks to hide the evidence of her tears. The footsteps approached the bed, then paused, and she could imagine him standing there watching her, worry and love etched on his face. Slowly she rolled over onto her back and looked up at him. His eyes were full of sympathy. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you needed me, Doc.”
The tears she had just managed to choke off threatened to break free again. She swallowed. “It’s okay. You’re here now.”
He sank down onto the bed, causing the mattress to tilt her toward him slightly. She reached up and tugged on his arm to bring him down beside her. John sighed, reclined against the other pillow and pulled her carefully into his arms. She rested her cheek on his chest, her fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt, and laughed shakily, “So do I call you Grandpa now, or what?”
He winced and shut his eyes. “I didn’t want you to find out that way, Doc. I know there probably wasn’t a *good* way to tell you, but I wanted to be there, at least.”
“I know you did.” Silence, then another quiet laugh. “I have so many questions, I don’t even know where to begin.” She slipped her hand inside his shirt, idly rubbing it up and down his chest. “Sami said this boy Austin is a good husband and a good father. She said he loves them. Is that true?”
John, mentally castigating himself for having to fight for concentration over the distracting warmth caused by her touch, asked, “Why would you even question that, Doc?”
She swirled her fingers through the short, rough hair on his chest. “I don’t know…there was something so sad in her eyes, Roman. I thought it might only be that she’s upset that I can’t remember her son…but it seemed like more than that. She seemed…desperately

afraid.”

John stroked his hand up and down her arm. “She has no reason to be afraid, Doc. Will’s just fine and so is Austin. And you will be, too, you’ll see.”
Marlena closed her eyes and hugged him tightly to her. “I want *so much* to remember, Roman. I want to remember being there when Sami had her first child…when she got married…when she had her first *date*, for heaven’s sake! It isn’t fair to her, or to Carrie and Eric, that I don’t remember those things.”
He held her close, relishing the feel of her body against the length of his. “You *will* remember, Doc, I’m positive of that. And the kids’ll be fine. They’re just grateful you’re alive.” He cupped her cheek and turned her head toward his. “And so am I. I’m so incredibly grateful that I can’t even put it into words.”
She smiled at him and reached up to trace his lips with her index finger. “So don’t *use* words.” Their mouths came inexorably together, drawn by a connection that neither could voice but both felt to the depths of their souls. Marlena’s left hand deftly undid the remaining buttons on John’s shirt and shoved it back off of his shoulders. She leaned up to bring her body down more fully on top of his, lost in the intensity of the kiss.
“I love you, Doc.” He said the words the moment he felt them, a sentiment straight from the heart that completely bypassed his mind and any semblance of rational thought. What are you doing, John? This will only make it worse later…when she finds out she doesn’t love you anymore. But he couldn’t stop. She felt so wonderful in his arms, so warm and willing, so loving. It was as if the thousands of dreams he’d had since that one moment of clarity in an Aremid jail cell were suddenlycoming to life. His hand slowly unbuttoned her shirt as he gently eased her sideways to keep from breaking their kiss. She moaned in the back of her throat and shrugged out of her blouse, drawing him back to her, heated skin to heated skin.
It was the bandage on her chest that stopped him, its stark whiteness a jarring contrast to the creamy paleness of the skin around it. He reluctantly broke away from her and stifled a small burst of purely male satisfaction at the dreamy look in her eyes. “Doc, we can’t do this.”

She grinned up at him. “Sure we can. We got *married* and *everything*.”

John chuckled a bit painfully. “It’s not *that*.” Marlena’s rebellious fingers began an adventurous trip down his chest, but he gently captured her hand before it could reach its intended destination. “Come on, Doc. Don’t do this to me. You just got out of the hospital less than twenty-four hours ago, and this definitely wasn’t one of Mike’s prescriptions.”
She kissed him. “Hey, I’m a doctor, too, you know. So you have to do what *I* say, too. And I say, make love to your wife, Roman Brady.” The invitation in her eyes was nearly his undoing, but hearing the name Roman Brady stiffened his resolve. And the growl from her stomach broke the heated tension between them. He laughed, “I think your stomach knows what you need better than your brain does.”
She gave him a wicked smile. “That *wasn’t* my brain.” The smile changed to a mock-petulant scowl. “All right, you can feed me first. But then I’m going to have my way with you, and I don’t want to hear any backtalk, mister.”
John eased out of the bed and lifted her into his arms. “Dinner it is, then.” He carried her through the doorway and started down the stairs. Halfway down she tugged on his ear to bring his face within range and kissed him hard. Her eyes sparkled. “Don’t you dare think I’m going to forget what I want for dessert.”
His foot landed with a thunk on the bottom step. He couldn’t help but grin as he laid her gently on the couch and kissed her on the nose. “You have a one-track mind, lady. But haul it out of the gutter long enough to tell me what you want for dinner, okay?”
She cocked her head. “Well, that depends on what’s available. Are you cooking?” He sent her a mock sidewise glare. “Are you impugning my culinary skills? Talk about people living in glass houses who shouldn’t…”
She slapped him playfully. “I am not impugning your considerable..bly nonexistent cooking skills. I was just wondering if there’s even any food in the house. You didn’t leave my side at the hospital long enough to eat a sandwich, let alone make any trips to the supermarket.”
“Well, Carrie told me that she and Sami bought all the stuff that was

on Mike’s list as acceptable for you to eat. So, *you’re* covered.” Marlena made a face. “Yuck, hospital food has followed me home.” She held up her hand to forestall his reply. “And I’ll eat it, okay? But you don’t have to. After all,” she said with a mock leer, “you’re a growing boy.”

He grinned and gave her another quick kiss. “Well, I’ll order myself a pizza after I rustle up something for you.” He pointed a stern finger at her. “Now, don’t move from this couch, you hear me?”
She saluted him. “Aye, aye, Captain Brady!” She watched him disappear into the kitchen. “And the invalid is once again left to her own devices…which, in this case, include a telephone.” She reached over to the end table, picked up the phone, and opened the drawer to extract the telephone book. “Pizza, pizza, pizza…hmmm, oh, here it is.” She pressed the numbers and listened to the ringing. A distinctly teenaged voice answered the phone. “Hi, I’d like to order a pizza…umm-hmm, a large with pepperoni and…anchovies,” she laughed, “no, better not – just pepperoni and black olives, please…What? By credit card, really? That’s amazing. No, just a minute, let me see…”
She reached over and pulled John’s jacket off of the arm of the couch, feeling in the pockets for his wallet. “Ah-hah, here we are – some things never change.” She wedged the phone between her good shoulder and her ear, “Just a sec, I’m looking for…Oh my God!” She stared down into the wallet clutched in her hands, face immobile with shock, oblivious to the buzzing of the worried voice from the fallen phone.
That was how John found her when he backed through the kitchen door bearing a tray full of apple sauce, cottage cheese and ice cream. Her stricken face turned toward him. “My God, what is it, Doc?”
Silently she held up the wallet. He stared at it, his heart sinking. The only thought that raced through his shock-blank mind was Well, John, you really had a lot of nerve getting mad at Sami, because as bonehead moves go, yours really takes the cake!
Chapter 15
Sami Brady took a deep breath, braced herself, and slowly pushed open the front door to the Brady Pub. It was, as she had feared it would be, filled with people that she knew – friends and family who had

gathered to hear the news about Marlena, received it, and then lingered to discuss it, detail by juicy detail. Bo, Hope and Billie formed a silent, uneasy trio in the booth nearest to the door. Vivian -Vivian!?!-was speaking into the pay phone, faithful Ivan hanging on her elbow. John *couldn’t* have invited her! Oh well, maybe she just likes the burgers. The Horton contingent occupied the three tables in the center of the room amid occasional bursts of laughter. And, forming a charming family portrait near the bar – a sight which nearly made Sami physically ill – Austin and Carrie were playing with Will, Shawn and Caroline standing behind them, beaming proudly. Sami stood in the doorway, scowling, but no one noticed her until Abe and Lexie descended from upstairs, Belle and Brady in their arms. “Sami?” Lexie asked. “What are you doing here? I thought you were with Marlena.”

The entire restaurant turned to look at her. She ignored all of them
and crossed the room quickly to snatch her son from her sister’s arms.
“I was, until John got back. But I missed my baby boy.” She nuzzled
the top of Will’s head, grinning when he burbled happily. “Did you miss
me, honey?” He looked up at her and waved his hands. She darted a
glance toward her grandparents. “And John wanted to talk to Mom
alone.” Something in her tone of voice tipped them off, because
Caroline turned toward her with a frown of suspicion. “Why, Sami?
What did you do now?”
***
John stood stock still next to the couch, the tray of ice cream and cottage cheese he held in his hands all but forgotten, his gaze locked on the wallet in Marlena’s hands. *His* wallet. How could I leave my wallet on the couch *right* where she could find it? A wallet full of credit cards with a name imprinted on them, a name that was most definitely not that of Roman Brady. He noted the open telephone book and the fallen phone. She must of been trying to order him a pizza, he realized, and she’d gotten way more than she’d bargained for. Her eyes were wide with trepidation and…anger?
“Doc?” he asked cautiously. She licked her lips nervously and swallowed. “Roman? What *is* this? I don’t understand.”
John set the tray down on the coffee table abruptly, causing the ice cream to slosh over into the cottage cheese. He sat down next to her on the couch and eased the wallet from her hands. “What is what,

Doc?”

“This,” she said, reaching into the wallet and pulling something out. It was a picture, he realized, not a credit card. “Let me see that, Doc.” Wordlessly, she handed it over, and he found himself looking at a picture of him, Marlena, Belle and Brady. He recognized it as the one he’d had shrunken to wallet size from the roll of pictures taken in Kristen’s garden last spring. Brady sat on Marlena’s lap, hands entwined with hers, and Belle stood between them on the bench, her little arms wrapped around their necks, pulling all of their heads together in a happy family foursome. He’d loved that picture from the moment he’d first seen it – it made them look like the family they’d never had a chance to be.
John looked up at Marlena, unable to totally squelch the expression of pride on his face at seeing his beautiful, perfect children. She watched him closely, a tentative flowering of hope evident in her eyes. “You look…” she inhaled sharply “…you look like Sami did-” His brow furrowed. “What?”
She smiled softly and gently pried the picture from his fingers, her gaze inexorably drawn to the happy, smiling faces. “When I asked her if the little boy in the picture was her son, she had the exact same look on her face as you have now – a mixture of worry and…pride, I think.” She took a deep breath. “Are these…are these *our* children, Roman?”
John briefly wondered what Mike and Laura would say about the wisdom of revealing to Marlena the existence of children she didn’t remember having. He suspected they wouldn’t be great fans of the idea. But he knew there was no way to lie about this – not here, not now, with Marlena sitting right in front of him, seeming almost eager to hear him say yes. She seemed to *want* it to be true. It took him only a split second to decide to tell her that it was.
A rueful grin came over his face as he reached out to take her hands in his, carefully avoiding bending the picture. “Yeah, Doc, they’re ours.”
She looked from his face to the picture and back again, an incredible smile slowly transforming her face until it was almost blinding. In a voice full of wonder, she breathed, “They’re beautiful, Roman. They’re just so beautiful…”

He nodded, blinking rapidly, and swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Aren’t they?” He reached up and used his thumb to wipe a tear from her cheek. “And it isn’t just *us* who think so, Doc. Everybody says so

– everybody with *taste*, anyway.” Marlena laughed through the tears. She ducked her head down and traced the two little faces with the tip of her finger, then looked back up at John, eyes suddenly full of questions. “Roman, what are their names? How old are they? Do they get along with each other? What-”
John held up a hand to cut off her breathless interrogation and laughed, “Hey, whoa, Doc, calm down a minute.” She inhaled deeply and nodded. He reached over to the picture and pointed to Belle. “That’s Belle. Isabella Beatrice B- um, Brady. She’s almost three years old now.”
Marlena swiped at the tears running down her cheeks. “Belle…that’s a beautiful name, Roman.” He nodded, smiling in remembrance. “Yes, it is. She was named after a very special woman who…passed away before she was born.” Something in his voice caused her to look up at him with narrowed eyes. “A close friend of ours?” He nodded again. She looked back down at the picture. “And our little boy?”
John grinned down at his little slugger. “That’s Brady.” He realized his mistake as soon as he saw the puzzled look that appeared on her face. “Brady?” she asked. “Brady Brady? What kind of name is that, Roman?” He laughed shakily. “Of course not, Doc. Brady Brady? It sounds like a pizza ad.” She looked even more perplexed. “Sorry, Doc
– Brady is what we *call* him – you know, like Hope calls Bo ‘Brady’.” Marlena nodded doubtfully. “I see…” “Umm-hmmm.” He rubbed his hands together nervously. “Well, his other name is Victor.”
She frowned. “Victor? As in Victor Kiriakis? Are you serious, Roman?” He laughed again, a sound even more strained than before. “No, no, of course not…though Vic *has* mellowed considerably over the years.” Marlena rolled her eyes. “Yeah, sure, Roman.” She looked down at the picture again. “Brady…Belle and Brady…” She smiled, eyes full of stars, cheeks glowing. “Our children…” She reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. “I want to see them, Roman. I want to go see them right now. Where are they?”
*
“You did *what*?”

Sami shot Carrie a disgruntled look. “I *said*, I told Mom about Will.” Shawn’s face was thunderous. “How could you, Sami? You know what the doctors said about tellin’ your mother things that might upset her.”

She hugged Will a little more tightly. “It was an *accident*, Grandpa.” She noted that they were even worse at hiding their distrust and disbelief than John had been. “It *was*. I thought she was sleeping upstairs, and I was looking at a picture of Will and Austin when she came up behind me and asked me who they were.”
Austin snorted. “And you just *had* to tell her…” “That’s right. I told her that Will is my son and you are my husband, and I’m *not* sorry about it. John understands why I did it, and he’s not mad. And there isn’t anything any of you can do about it now, anyway.” She rose from her chair and grabbed Will’s diaper bag. “I’m going to go change Will.” She managed to make it to the stairs before any of the shocked people around the table could reply.
Austin and Carrie looked at each other and asked in stunned unison, “Her husband?” Carrie slammed her glass down onto the table. “I can’t believe this. I mean, I knew she was still totally obsessed with you, but I didn’t think she would use what happened to Marlena to get to you.”

Caroline grimaced. “I’m beginning to wonder if there are any depths Sami won’t sink to.”
Abe shook his head and shifted Brady to his other hip. “Unfortunately, she does have a point.” Everyone turned and stared at him. He held up his hand in mock surrender. “I’m just saying that she’s right about there being nothing we can do about it.” He scanned about the room and frowned. “It looks like both Mike and Laura are gone already. But I think they’d agree that changing Sami’s story *now* is not a good idea.”
Austin rolled his eyes and scowled. “Of course not. So Sami gets her way *again*. But if she tries to drag me to some kind of *family* dinner or something, she’s in for a really big disappointment.”
Carrie reached over and took his hand. “I know you’re upset, Austin, but the only thing that matters right now is Marlena. And if it means that we have to stomach Sami gushing over you at the dinner table once or twice, then that’s what we’ll do.”
Austin’s scowl faded to a look of annoyance. “I’m beginning to wonder if this is a good idea after all.”

Belle squirmed in Lexie’s arms and popped her thumb out of her mouth. “Mommy?” she asked. Lexie smoothed her shining hair. “No, sweetie, mommy isn’t here right now.” The little girl’s lower lip poked out and began to quiver. “Want Mommy…” Brady looked over at his little sister and nodded in agreement. “And Daddy. We want Daddy, too. When is he coming back from the wedding?” The adults shared a look of trepidation over the children’s heads. Abe hitched Brady up a little higher on his hip. “Soon, Brady. Daddy will be back soon. But in the meantime, you two need to get to bed. Come on, Lex.”

Shawn, Caroline and Carrie kissed the children goodnight. They sat silently at the table after Abe and Lexie had gone, staring at each other and the tabletop in turn. Finally Caroline could no longer stand it. “I wonder how John and Marlena are doing?” ***

John stood outside the door to the Pub, Marlena in his arms. She was staring in wonder at the front of the building, her mind still insisting that there really should be a fish market inside. “An Irish Pub, hmm? Whose idea was that?”
John was watching her worriedly. “Pop’s, I guess. Are you sure you’re all right, Doc? We could do this tomorrow.” She squeezed him with the arm wrapped around his neck. “No, Roman, I’m just fine, I promise. In fact, I can’t remember ever being this excited.” She grinned. “It’s almost like giving birth, only without all of the pain.”
He regarded her silently for a moment. “Cut the snow job, Doc. I know the thought that you could forget your children is eating you alive. I’ve been there, remember?”
She nodded solemnly. “I know, Roman. But you can’t tell me that you would have ever put off seeing them any longer than you absolutely had to.”
He sighed and smiled. “No, I wouldn’t have, you’re absolutely right. So…you ready?” She took a deep breath and nodded. “Ready.” ***

Abe and Lexie had just returned from putting the kids down when the front door of the Pub opened to reveal John with Marlena in his arms. The sight of her alive and (relatively) healthy automatically brought smiles to the faces of the family – smiles tinged with uncertainty. Carrie raised her eyebrows at John. What are you *doing* here?

Marlena’s eyes were wide, drinking in the sight of her beloved family, and she smiled slightly at their expressions of open-mouthed shock. “Hi, everyone,” she said softly. There was no reply. She glanced quickly at John, who gave her a reassuring smile. She looked back at them and grinned. “*I’m* the one with the amnesia, *remember*? So why are all of you looking at me like you’ve never seen me before.” Her words nudged them out of immobility. Shawn and Caroline reached her first.

“Oh, Marlena darlin’, we were so worried about you.” “I’m fine, Shawn. I’m just fine. Roman and the girls have been taking very good care of me.” Shawn glanced at Caroline, who hid her unease behind a welcoming kiss. “Come in, sit down, you should be *resting*, dear.”
Marlena laughed. “Well, now I know where Roman, Sami and Carrie got their worry genes. I’m fine, Caroline. And I just *had* to come when I heard about the children.”
Shawn and Caroline exchanged another glance and looked back toward Carrie and Austin, who shrugged. They turned back to Marlena, eyes wide with feigned innocence. “Children?”
John smiled. “It’s okay, guys. She knows about Belle and Brady.” Sami reached the bottom of the stairs just in time to hear that. He shot her an apologetic glance and said in an embarrassed voice, “She..uh..she found a picture of them in my wallet.” Sami snorted, causing the family to turn to her in puzzlement. She stifled a grin. “Hi, Mom.”
John lowered Marlena gently into a chair. “Hi, Sweetie. How’s Will? And…” she frowned at Carrie and Austin’s intertwined hands, “…is this Austin?” Sami walked over to their table and put her arm around Austin’s shoulders. “Yes, it is. Austin Reed…Marlena Evans Brady.” Austin looked slightly ill, but he eased his hand from Carrie’s and held it out to her. “Nice to see you.”
“Nice to *meet* you,” she said softly with a welcoming smile, but then turned back to John, unable to hide her eagerness. “Roman?” He smiled. “I’ll go get them, Doc.” Carrie nodded and stood up. “I’ll go with you.”
Marlena watched them ascend the stairs and then turned to grin at Abe. “I’m so nervous, I can’t tell you.” She saw the emotion in his eyes. “It’s good to see you, Abe.”

“Good to see you, too, Marlena. And this is my wife, Lexie.” Lexie extended her hand, only to have Marlena draw her into a hug. “It’s very nice to meet you. And I hope we’re good friends, because Abe is very important to Roman and me.” Lexie bit her lip to hold back her tears. “Very good friends,” she vowed, hugging Marlena tighter.

Shawn squeezed her shoulder when they finally parted. “You just missed Bo and Hope. Shawn-Douglas had a baseball game, and they didn’t want to be late.”
She looked up at him. “I’m sorry I missed them…um, who’s Shawn-Douglas?” “What? Oh, aye…he’s my namesake, and Doug’s. Bo and Hope’s son. He’s quite a handful, got a curveball like you wouldn’t believe.”
Marlena’s eyes were bright. “A son? Oh, that’s wonderful. Is he…is he the baby Hope was pregnant with when I…” her voice trailed off painfully. Shawn tried to cover with a hearty laugh. “That’s right. And Bo fainted dead away in the delivery room, yes he did.”
She blinked hard to keep the tears from falling. “He did, did he? I’m so happy for them…I really am.” “Oh, Marlena,” Caroline said softly, enveloping her in a comforting hug. “I’m so sorry, dear.” Marlena held on tightly.
“Momma?” She went rigid in Caroline’s arms, then slowly extricated herself from the hug. She looked toward the corner of the room where John held Belle in his arms and Carrie held Brady’s hand in hers. The little boy was the one who had spoken. He let go of Carrie’s hand and ran toward her.
He came to a halt in front of her and cocked his head, puzzled over the emotion on her face. “Are you all right, Momma?” She slowly slid out of the chair to kneel on the floor in front of him, drinking in his little face, his fine brown hair, his dimples. “I’m just fine, Brady. I was…sick for a while, but I’m better now, and I couldn’t wait to see you and your sister.” Marlena held out her arms, and he launched himself into them without hesitation. “I missed you, Momma.”
“Oh, baby, I missed you, too. I didn’t even know how much.” Her eyes met John’s over Brady’s shoulder, both his and hers filled with tears of joy. John murmured softly to Belle as he crossed the room and slowly knelt next to them. Marlena shifted Brady to her left arm and reached for Belle with her right, unmindful of her injuries in her eagerness to

hold her children. Belle looked solemnly up at her father and then held her arms out to Marlena, twining her right arm about her mother’s neck, settling onto her hip, and popping her left thumb contentedly into her mouth. Marlena hugged them tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks. Brady raised his head from her chest and reached up to wipe them away with one small hand. “Don’t cry, Momma. We’re together now.”

She smiled down at him tenderly. “Yes, we are.” She looked up at John, Carrie and Sami. “And we’re never going to be apart again, I promise.” She looked deeply into John’s eyes. “Never.” Chapter 16

Marlena lay on her back on the checkered quilt and stared up at the puffy-cloud-filled heavens, satisfied and happy. Belle’s head was a comforting weight on her outstretched arm. The little girl’s sticky fingers were entwined with hers, and her cheeks puffed in and out with every breath, causing a tiny whistle with each exhalation. Brady was in a similar state on top of his father’s chest, arms stretched around John on either side to anchor himself as his father inhaled. He was drooling slightly, but John didn’t mind. He merely gazed up at the clouds and thanked the Lord for the day, the best one he’d had in a very long time.
He looked over at Marlena and noted her expression of rapt contemplation. “What are you thinking about, Doc?” he asked in a low voice so as not to wake the children.
“Mmmm,” Marlena said languidly as she turned her head toward his, a sleepy smile on her face. “I was trying to remember another picnic I’ve enjoyed as much as this one.”
He smiled at her and plucked a stalk of grass to whistle between his teeth. “I know what you mean. It *has* been a while.” She frowned slightly. “Has it? I sort of figured that we did this a lot and I had just forgotten.”
He averted his eyes so she wouldn’t read the lies on his face. “You know how it is, Doc. Life gets in the way, and you don’t do the things you *should* do until you get a wake-up call.” He looked back at her. “That’s what your shooting was for me, Doc – a really frightening wake-up call. It made me realize that we shouldn’t wait to do the things we really want to do, because we could run out of time to do them real

quick.”

She reached for his hand with her free one and squeezed it gently. “I’m okay, Roman. And if something good has come out of all of this, then I’m glad. I don’t ever want to take you, or the children, for granted. You are all *so* precious to me.” She grimaced a little guiltily. “I’m just sorry that Carrie, Sami, and Austin aren’t here.” She glanced toward the bassinet where Will lay sleeping peacefully. “They deserve a family holiday as much as we do. It wasn’t fair of us to stick them with all the work.”
John laughed quietly. “They volunteered, Doc.” She shot him a disbelieving look. “No, they *really* did, I swear. They wanted to give you a day off, and since they were the ones that dismantled Belle and Brady’s rooms in the first place, it just seemed easier for them to put them back together.”
Marlena blinked at him. “I still can’t believe you went to all that trouble. Wouldn’t it have been easier to simply tell me about the children in the first place?”
He sighed. “We were just doing what Mike and Laura told us to do. They want you to remember on your own, Doc, and I can’t argue with that. But I’m glad you found out about the children. Being away from you wasn’t good for them.”
She nodded and rolled to a sitting position, cradling Belle in her arms. The little girl muttered softly but didn’t awaken. “And vice versa, Roman. Just please tell me there aren’t any more new family members who are going to pop up and say hello, okay?”
John lifted Brady from his chest, using the movement to hide the guilt he knew shone from his eyes. Well, not if you don’t count the *real* Roman Brady, my fiance, or the child that’s on the way… “I swear, Doc, all of your children and grandchildren are now present and accounted for…You ready to go? They should be about finished by now. We can go *inspect* the results.”
Marlena laughed. “Oh, they’ll love that.” She rose gingerly to her feet and settled Belle on her shoulder. “Let’s go.” ***

“I swear, Austin, everything that Brady owns has *something* to do with baseball. I mean, pajamas, sheets, and stuffed animals I understand – but toothpaste? Come on…” Austin shot Sami an

impatient glance. “Well, maybe he *likes* baseball.” He looked around Eric’s transformed bedroom and said reflectively, “I would have loved a room like this when I was a kid.” Sami smiled, “Maybe this is how we should do Will’s room, then.”

He scowled. “Well, you can do his room in *your* apartment however you want. Carrie and I will decorate his room in ours.” Sami looked away, blinking back sudden tears. They were silent for a moment, Austin placing the last of Brady’s truck collection in the toybox while Sami arranged the stuffed animals on the bed. She took a deep breath. “Don’t you want this for Will?” she asked plaintively. “A happy home, security, loving parents…” She bit her lip in frustration. “I don’t understand how you can’t want that for him.”
He shut the lid of the toybox with a loud snap. “I don’t want to live a *lie* for him, Sami. That’s what all of this is-” he said, waving an arm about the room “-a lie. And when Marlena remembers everything that’s happened and they break up this little ‘family portrait’ then it’s Belle and Brady who are going to be hurt. And I *don’t* want that for Will. No false hopes, no false promises.”
“Is that what you think we’re doing?” Sami demanded. “If you thought this was so *wrong* then why did you agree to go along with it in the first place?”
“No one *asked* me, Sami,” he reminded her. “But since *you* are, I’ll tell you what I think. This whole thing is going to blow up in everyone’s faces.” He stared contemplatively at the giant baseball painted on the lid of the toybox. “I just hope the fallout isn’t as bad as I think it’ll be.” ***
Carrie stood in the middle of her bedroom, a sense of satisfaction at its successful transformation warring with an overwhelming feeling of loss. This is *my* room, a small rebellious voice inside her head insisted. The room that had been hers ever since she could remember, through a succession of fathers and stepmother and father’s-girlfriends, a constant in her life that no one could take away. A sanctuary. She remembered hiding under the bed and locking the door against the kind-eyed, tall stranger Marlena had insisted was her father, changed by surgery for purposes she couldn’t comprehend. She remembered seeing the room for the first time after the explosion that had taken her stepmother – damaged by water and soot, the

pictures of her family curdled at the edges, the smell of smoke permeating her stuffed animals. She remembered countless tedious hours of well-earned punishment for infractions small and large, punctuated by sympathetic visits from her father/not-father, ever-conscious of his paternal duty but too soft-hearted for his own good. She remembered hours on the pink princess phone with girlfriends and boyfriends, sleepless nights of giggling mad-libs and truth-or-dare. And she remembered leaving the room for the last time as an adolescent, when she’d insisted on leaving to go live with her mother in Europe. She’d seen the sadness in John’s eyes, his reluctance to let his baby go, but he had done it, as he always had, confident in her love and her common sense, even when that confidence wasn’t warranted. And she’d left, knowing that he’d keep the room the same, and that he’d be waiting there for her to come home.

But he hadn’t been. And she’d come home to a family radically altered and a father that was at once familiar and a stranger. And she’d felt guilt for all the happy times she’d had in this house that had nothing to do with him. She’d lashed out at John, attacking a man who had suffered more than his share of attacks and adding wounds to those that already ran soul-deep – the greatest shame of her life. But he’d loved her still, and kept on loving her, through the ostracism of the family and childish avowals of hatred. So when he’d come to her and asked her for something for the very first time – asked for her room for his daughter – she hadn’t said no.
But it still hurt. Sighing, Carrie picked up the last box of her possessions, staring down at the ribbons and trophies jumbled among the paperback books and assorted knickknacks. She let her gaze roam the room one last time, seeing not the colorful toddler-style decorations transplanted from Marlena’s penthouse but the accoutrements of a rebellious teenager with a father she loved more than anyone in the world. She smiled softly and walked toward the hallway, pausing in the doorway for one last look back. Goodbye. ***

Marlena opened the front door fractionally with her free hand and peeked her head around the frame. “The coast is clear,” she said conspiratorially as she held it wide for John, Brady, Will and the picnic basket. “Have we got everything?”

John affected a frown of deep concentration. “Let’s see – picnic blanket, picnic basket-” he paused to give her a charming smile “-beautiful wife, and…oh yes, three perfect little angels.” He kissed the top of Brady’s sleeping head and looked around the living room. “I wonder if they’re finished yet.”

“We are,” said Carrie from the second stair, startling them with her sudden appearance. She hefted her box and smiled brightly at them, but John, who knew her every mood, saw something in her eyes. “Punkin’?” he asked questioningly. She shook her head, but Marlena understood the look on her face, even if she couldn’t divine its cause. “Roman? Here, let me have Brady and I’ll take the children up to bed.” “Doc, no, you can’t…” She shot him a silencing look. “It’s all of thirty feet, Roman.” He nodded reluctantly and settled Brady on her hip. She balanced Brady and Belle gently in her arms and kissed John lightly on the lips. “Why don’t you and Carrie talk.” He nodded, and Marlena made her way carefully up the stairs showing no obvious signs of discomfort. John watched her until she was out of sight, placed Will’s bassinet on the coffee table, and turned to Carrie. “What is it, Punkin’?”
Sighing, Carrie flopped down on the couch and allowed some of her misery to show. “I guess packing up my old room was harder than I thought it would be.” John was instantly contrite. “Oh, Carrie, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize-”
She waved off his apology. “There’s no reason that you should have. I haven’t lived in that room for years – I didn’t think it would matter to me at all to give it up. And I know the only reason you asked was because the intercom in the guest room doesn’t work and you wanted to keep tabs on Belle. *And* because you didn’t want to ask Sami for *her* room.” She tried but couldn’t keep a note of bitterness from her voice.
John put his hand on her knee in a comforting gesture, apology in his eyes. “That’s all true, but it doesn’t mean you don’t have a right to be upset.” He looked down at his hand and said softly, “I just couldn’t ask Sami for her room. I’ve hurt her so much…” he looked up at Carrie and compressed his lips. “I know I’ve hurt you, too, but-” he shrugged helplessly, “I haven’t *scarred* you the way I did her. I didn’t…ruin your life.” His eyes were bleak.
She shook her head at him, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “You

two just don’t realize how she uses that to get what she wants.” She put her hand on his to stop his automatic protest. “It’s okay, John. It really is. I’m perfectly glad to give my room to my little sister – It’s better than you turning it into an *office* or something.” She grinned at him. It took him a few long moments to return it, but when he did it was heartfelt. He reached out and enveloped her in a hug. “I love you, Punkin’.” Carrie held on tightly and buried her face in his shirt, which smelled of fall leaves, fried chicken and something she’d always think of as the ‘essence of dad’. She inhaled deeply and smiled. “I love you, too…” Daddy.

They held each other for a few moments until the silence was broken by the ringing of John’s cellular phone. He reluctantly let go of Carrie and shot her an apologetic glance as he picked up the offending instrument from the coffee table. “Hello?”
“John, it’s Kristen.” Guilty grimace. His fiance, of whom he hadn’t had a thought for the entire morning. “Hey…how are you?” “I’m fine.” But she sounded upset. “Are you sure?” he asked.
“Well…I know you’re probably busy and I hate to bother you…” Another well-placed arrow of guilt. “You know you’re never a bother, Kristen.” A shaky laugh. “Could you please come over then? I really need to talk to you.” “Well…”
“Please, John, it’s important.” He sighed. “Sure, I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He snapped the phone closed and tried to hide his reluctance from Carrie. “That was Kristen,” he said, unnecessarily. “She needs to see me. Can you guys handle everything here for a bit?” Carrie nodded, her face expressionless. “What do you want us to tell Marlena?”
He grimaced. “Just tell her I had to go to the cop shop for a couple of hours. If she tries to call me Abe has arranged for it to be forwarded to my cellular, so there shouldn’t be a problem. I’ll try to make it quick.” Carrie mustered up a smile and kissed him on the cheek. “Tell Kristen hi.”
He nodded uncertainly and stood up. “Sure.” He leaned down to
rearrange Will’s blanket and then started reluctantly toward the door,
turning for one last wave. “Bye.” The door clicked shut behind him.
Good luck, Carrie thought.
***

Marlena softly shut the door to Belle’s room, smiling at the mental image of her little girl curled up in the middle of the large pink bed, arms wrapped around a disreputable-looking lop- eared bunny. She transferred Brady to her right side and grimaced at the twinges of pain. Being shot is no fun at all, she thought, laughing at the understatement. “Let’s get you to bed, little man.” She proceeded down the hall to Eric’s old room and eyed the door a little reluctantly. Roman had assured her that Eric hadn’t objected to being relegated to the guest room when he came home for school vacations, but she worried just the same. She didn’t want any of her children to feel neglected. Trust Roman, she admonished herself, her hand on the doorknob. She could hear raised voices coming from inside the room.

“Everything okay in here?” she asked, opening the door. Sami whirled around, face flushed. Austin averted his gaze toward the window. “Sami?”
Sami smiled brightly. “Everything’s great, Mom. Should you be carrying him, though?” She reached for Brady and hefted him onto her hip, careful not to wake him. “How was the picnic?” Marlena smiled. “It was wonderful, just what we needed. But I wish you two could have been there…and Carrie. It’s not a family outing without you.”
Austin smiled gamely. “Well, we wanted to get everything arranged here. What do you think?” Marlena took in the decorations and nodded a bit ruefully. “I think *someone’s* interest in baseball hasn’t abated one bit in ten years.”
Sami laughed. “No kidding.” She gently laid Brady down in the center of the bed. He stirred but didn’t awaken as she covered him with a light blanket. Silently, Marlena motioned for them to follow her into the hallway, where she shut the door behind them. “I imagine you two want to see Will. He’s downstairs sleeping, exhausted from his entertaining day in the park.” Sami smiled. “Let’s go.” ***

John stood on Kristen’s doorstep, staring up at the forbidding facade of the house he’d never been able to think of as home. On good days it was still ‘Donovan Manor’ and he almost expected to hear the cultured British tones of Shane Donovan greeting him at the door. On bad days it was the DiMera mansion, permeated through and through with the menacing presence of a man he hoped was dead. He thought

longingly of the bright home and children and *wife* that he’d just left, but then abruptly shook his head. You’re being *really* unfair, John. He felt guilty about his distressing lack of guilt over his desire to ignore his fiance. Sighing, he pressed the doorbell. Scant seconds later, Kristen opened the door.

“John? What are you doing ringing the doorbell? Where’s your key?” He looked surprised. “Sorry. I…forgot for a minute.” He frowned with concern. “Are you okay?”
She smiled brightly. “Sure. Come on in.” He entered the foyer reluctantly. “I thought you said it was important.” “It is. It’s *very* important.” She helped him peel off his jacket and hung it on the coatrack, discreetly switching off his celphone as she did so. She took his hand. “Come into the living room.”
When they stepped through the entrance his eyes were immediately drawn to the large box sitting where the coffee table used to be. “What’s that?”
She turned to him, excitement written all over her face and a sparkle
in her eyes. “That’s our baby’s crib. And we’re going to put it together
today. Just the two of us.”
***
Carrie sat slumped on the couch, moodily regarding her nephew as he slept in his bassinet. I wonder if you have any idea what’s going on around you? I wonder if you have any idea what kind of person your mommy is? Her reverie came to an end as Marlena, Sami and Austin clumped noisily down the stairs. She pasted a smile on her face and turned to Marlena. “So, what did you think?”
Marlena smiled at all of them. “I think it’s wonderful. And I think all of you went above and beyond the call.” She squeezed Carrie’s shoulder sympathetically. “And you all look exhausted. Why don’t you three go take a nap and come back later for dinner.”
Sami gave her a mock wary look. “Are *you* cooking?” Marlena returned a mock glare that dissolved into a conspiratorial smile. “No, I think I’ll let someone else handle that.” They all assumed she meant John and laughed in response. Austin looked over to Carrie and nodded fractionally, then turned to Marlena and said, “Actually, Carrie and I have some work to do at Titan, but we’ll be here for dinner.” He shot a glance toward Sami filled more with duty than feigned love, but

Marlena didn’t see it, occupied as she was with cooing at her grandson. “Why don’t you and Will stay here with Marlena, and we’ll see you at dinner.”

Sami frowned, unable to think of anything to say but, “Sure, okay.” She picked up Will’s bassinet and said to her mother, “Will and I will be up in my old room. Call me if you need anything.” Marlena smiled indulgently. “I’m sure I’ll be just fine.”
Sami nodded, and just to annoy Carrie, kissed Austin goodbye. He endured it with no comment and headed for the door, Carrie right behind him. “Bye.”
Sami stood uncertainly at the foot of the stairs after they’d left. “You’re sure you don’t need anything, Mom?” Marlena made shooing motions with her hands. “I’m sure, go, go.” Sami smiled and disappeared up the stairs. “I have things to do,” Marlena said to herself softly. “Because tonight, my children, you are going to be rewarded for all the hard work you did today. Tonight…” she said, breaking into a wide conspiratorial grin and holding her arms out as if to embrace the entire room – or the entire world – “…tonight we are having a *party*!” Chapter 17
The slamming of the front door awakened Sami from a troubled sleep. She rubbed her neck and stared blearily at the clock on the bedside table. 5:00 p.m. Wow, I must have been really tired… She lay back on the covers, unsuccessfully attempting to motivate herself out of her comfortable, familiar childhood bed. She found herself staring at the corkboard on the wall, idly noting that she hadn’t changed the decorations since her father had left and she’d moved into the Pub. Festive ribbons, concert stubs and party favors were pinned in a jumble with a calendar from 1994 and her sign-language alphabet sheet. Benjy, she thought, smiling, and then her eyes came to rest on a happy family picture partially covered by a rock poster. Her smile faded as she thought of her mother, smiling and laughing downstairs, oblivious to the fact that the whole world had fallen in four years ago because of one reckless moment in the Titan conference room. What difference does it make, Sami? She groaned, buried her head in the pillow and decided to go back to sleep. She was sure Marlena was okay downstairs. After all, John was with her. ***

“Kristen, I’m telling you that putting this thing together without the instructions is a really bad idea.” Kristen laughed at John and handed him the wrong screwdriver. “What kind of man are you anyway, wanting to use the instructions? Haven’t you ever seen Home Improvement?” She carefully avoided looking anywhere near the trash basket, where the directions for putting together the baby crib lay crumpled in a ball, deposited there scant minutes before John had arrived. She had no intention of letting him leave any sooner than she had to.

John muttered something under his breath and reached across her swollen belly to snatch the right screwdriver from the toolbox. “This is a *crib*, Kristen. It’s not something you throw together any which way and hope it holds up. I’ll just get another copy of the instructions and come by again sometime to finish putting it together.” “But John-”
“*Kristen*,” he said, and this time there was no mistaking the annoyance in his voice, “We have *months* to do this. I’m getting nowhere here. And I *really* need to get back to Doc.”
Kristen gritted her teeth to keep from screaming. “She would have called you if she needed you,” she said. Except, of course, that I switched off your phone… That thought brought a genuine smile to her face. She had managed to have John to herself for an entire afternoon without any interference from his precious *Doc*. And this is only the beginning. Soon he’ll be here all the time…and you’ll be just a memory. But she recognized that it was time to let him leave now, before he became suspicious of her – before he realized that she really didn’t give a damn about Marlena. I’ve reminded him of his commitment to me. I’ve reminded him that his so-called life with Marlena is a fraud. And I’ve *really* reminded him about our child on the way. A fair day’s work, she congratulated herself. She leaned over and gave him a quick kiss that he didn’t exactly evade, but didn’t exactly enjoy, either. Patience, she cautioned herself. “Okay, sweetie. Call me later?”
John got to his feet with alacrity. “Umm, sure, if I can.” He shot her an apologetic glance. “We have to be careful, you know. It’s probably better if you don’t call me at the house, Kristen. If you need to get a message to me, call the Pub. Shawn and Caroline can get in touch with me without Doc getting suspicious. Okay?”

No, it is *not* okay! She managed a smile, though she suspected it looked more like a death grimace. John didn’t notice. He was halfway out the door already.

Kristen levered herself up onto the couch, seething with anger. How can he spend an afternoon putting together our child’s crib and then dismiss us so easily? Damn. The longer this little charade goes on the more involved he’ll become – until there’s no difference between the act and reality. I can’t let that happen!
The phone rang shrilly at her elbow, causing her to jump. She sighed and reached for the receiver. Well, I know who it *isn’t*, anyway. “Hello?”
“Hello, am I speaking to Kristen Blake?”
“Yes, you are.”
“This is Dr. Marlena Evans…”
***
Sami stood in the doorway of Brady’s room, a puzzled expression on her face. Brady slept peacefully under a small mound of blue covers topped by tousled brown hair in the center of the lower bunkbed. Will’s bassinet rested where she had placed it hours before on the giant baseball-glove chair next to the toybox – but it was empty. He must be downstairs with Mom and John, she thought. I guess I’ll go see what they’re up to.
***
Marlena danced slowly about the living room, patting her grandson’s back in time to the music that wafted softly from the stereo system in the corner. She cocked her head to the side, debating whether or not she liked the song. She’d recognized the names of few of the musical groups contained in the vast CD collection in the cabinet and had decided a refresher course was needed to select the music for her party. This one was a keeper, she concluded as she sat down on the couch. “What do you think, sweetheart?” Will laughed and snagged a lock of her hair. “I agree,” she said. “I guess you inherited my taste in music.”
“He likes all kinds of music,” Sami said from the stairway. “Austin used to be a pianist, though, so I think that’s probably where he gets it.” Her mother turned to her and grinned, “Well, I’ve noticed he has *your* eyes, anyway.”

Sami nodded. “Yes, he definitely has the Brady eyes…” Her voice trailed off as she looked around the living room, noting the table linens and the flowers. “What’s going on, Mom?”

Marlena smiled and held Will up high above her head as he laughed and clapped. “We’re having a party, aren’t we, Will?” She winced at the pain in her chest and brought him back down to eye-level, touching his nose to hers. “Aren’t we, baby?” Sami leaned heavily against the back of the couch, stunned. “What?”
Marlena settled Will on her lap and picked up her list, making a checkmark against the entry entitled ‘Music’. “I decided you kids deserved a reward for all your hard work today. And I decided Roman and I deserved a belated-second-wedding- tenth-anniversary party. *And* I decided that I’d like to see everyone I know and love. Who knows, maybe someone or something will jog my memory.”
Sami swallowed hard, a queasy feeling developing in the pit of her stomach. “Maybe…uh…so what does Daddy think about this?” “Hmmm?” Marlena asked, still absorbed in her list. “Oh, I haven’t talked to Roman. Carrie called after you went to sleep to tell me he had to run to the station for a few hours. I tried to get hold of him but Abe said he was out of the office.” She looked up at Sami and smiled. “Besides, I like the idea of surprising him, don’t you?” She reached into her stack for another list.
“Oh, he’ll be surprised, all right,” Sami murmured, the queasy feeling traveling up from the pit of her stomach to her throat, almost choking her. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Mom? You just got out of the hospital.”
Marlena ticked off a few more items. “I’m okay, sweetie, don’t you worry. All I had to do was dial the phone. The caterers and the florists have done everything else. Except selecting the music, of course.”
Sami swung her legs over the side of the couch to seat herself next to Marlena and reached for Will, who was contentedly gnawing on a lock of his grandmother’s hair. “So…” she said, in a voice she hoped sounded nonchalant, “Who’s coming to this party?”
Marlena pulled the guest list triumphantly from her pile. “Well, the family, of course. Those that are still in town, anyway. The listings I have in my address book for Kayla and Kim are in Los Angeles.” She cocked an eyebrow at Sami, who nodded, eyeing warily the book from

which she hoped Carrie had pruned all potential explosions. I hope to God she remembered to remove *John’s* name, at least! “And the Hortons, of course,” Marlena continued. “Although dear Tom…” she closed her eyes in pain and was silent for a moment. “But Alice agreed to come with Mickey and Maggie-”

“They said they’d come?” Sami asked incredulously. “All of them?” “Everyone I’ve managed to get on the phone. Shawn, Caroline, Bo, Hope…and a lot of hospital personnel, too.”
“That’s great, Mom,” Sami said, her voice faint. She hugged Will to her chest, mind racing. This is going to be a total disaster! A party, for God’s sake, with everyone pretending that Mom and John are married and John is Daddy and Austin is my husband and…Oh God…John’s going to kill me for letting this happen!
“Doc, why is that catering van in our driveway?” Two blonde heads turned in unison toward John as he came through the doorway. Marlena gave him a dazzling smile; Sami’s expression more closely resembled that of a deer caught in the headlights. His gaze traveled over the room decorations and he experienced a sudden sinking feeling. “What’s up, Doc?”
Marlena burst into delighted laughter and fell back against the couch cushions; even Sami smiled. Marlena wiped tears of mirth away as she held her stomach painfully. “Oh, don’t make me laugh, Roman…Come here and kiss your wife.”
John snuck an uncomfortable glance toward Sami, who stared fixedly down at her son. “All right,” he said, crossing over to the couch and leaning down to give Marlena a swift kiss. She caught his cheeks between her hands and kissed him thoroughly in return. He couldn’t help the smile on his face when she finally let go. Sami studiously kept her eyes averted, but her expression remained neutral. John straightened. “So…what’s *going on*, Doc?”
She beamed at him. “We’re having a party, Roman.” John’s mouth opened in shock, but Marlena didn’t notice his reaction because of the sudden crash that sounded from the kitchen. Marlena frowned, “Oh dear, I think I’d better go check on the caterers.” She stood up and gave him another quick kiss before disappearing into the kitchen. He turned a disbelieving look on Sami.
She grimaced. “Don’t look at me, John. I was asleep when she came

up with this idea. I thought you were downstairs with her. Carrie *forgot* to tell me that you were *at the station.* Where were you really, anyway?”

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I was at Kristen’s. She called and said she needed to see me…Tell me something, Sami – Do you think there’s any way to stop this?”
Sami shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so. She’s already called everyone, and they all agreed to come. They were probably so stunned they couldn’t think of anything else to say.”
John sat down heavily on the couch and sighed again. “Yeah, I think I know exactly how they feel.” He stared at Sami helplessly; she could only stare back. “I have a very bad feeling about this.” ***

Kristen outlined her lips with a bright red lip pencil and filled them in with a tube of Ruby Red. She rubbed her lips together and smiled. Perfect. She stood up from the makeup table and twirled around in her dress, a skimpy affair that left little to the imagination and consequently called any observer’s eye to gravitate directly to her stomach…and John’s child. This’ll be a showstopper, she thought with satisfaction, an eager gleam in her eye. An invitation to a party full of people attempting to pull off this ridiculous charade…a party *full* of opportunities for the whole scheme to be blown out of the water…if I play my cards right. She smiled and curtsied to herself in the mirror. Showtime!
***
John answered the door for the fourth time in five minutes, admitting another pair of guests who looked at him as if he were crazy. Abe scanned the room and noted with relief that Marlena wasn’t present. “What’s going on, John? *Why* in the *world* are you having this party?” he asked as he ushered Lexie through the door.
“It wasn’t my idea,” John explained patiently for what seemed like the hundredth time. “Doc came up with it and made the arrangements before I heard anything about it.”
“She called me, John, trying to get in touch with you, presumably to talk about all of this. I tried to forward the call to your celphone like we arranged, but I couldn’t get through. Then she asked us to the party…” Abe shrugged, “I was so surprised I just said yes.”

John nodded. “That seems to have been everyone’s reaction.” He waved his arm at the assembly of guests in the living room. “As you can see from the turnout… I’m sorry, Abe – I checked my phone when I got home because I couldn’t understand why no one had called me to ask me about this. Apparently I turned it off sometime this afternoon.” He smiled painfully at their expressions. “I know, I know – so now I deserve to spend an entire evening walking a tightrope over a pit of snakes, right? I sure hope we can pull this off, because if we can’t…God, Abe, I can’t stand the thought of hurting Doc again.”

Abe clapped him sympathetically on the back. “It won’t happen, buddy. Everyone will make sure of that.” He turned as Sami appeared at the bottom of the stairs carrying a giggling Belle decked out in her party finery. “Daddy!”
He plucked her from Sami’s arms and swung her up over his head. “How’s my baby girl?” She leaned forward and pressed his nose gently with one small index finger. “I’m fine, Daddy. Momma gave me ribbons, see?”
He smiled at his daughter. “I do see. You look just beautiful, Belle, just like your mommy.” He turned to Sami. “You look wonderful, Sami.” She flushed a little in embarrassment, then made a face. “Well, I feel like I’m going to throw up…I just know this is going to be a total disaster. She’s going to find out everything, John. I can feel it.”
“She *isn’t*,” he said sharply. “As long as everybody quits *talking* about it. Is she still upstairs?” Sami nodded. “Yes, Brady had a few objections to his tie, so they’re trying to reach a compromise.” John laughed at the mental picture her words conjured up. “Yes, well, he’s just like his father when it comes to formal wear.”
Sami smiled in agreement. “I remember that you could never tie a bow tie, so Grandpa had to teach me how to do it for you.” His gaze softened. “I remember, Sami.” She met his eyes for a moment, then looked away in confusion. What she saw made her eyes narrow and she frowned, “Oh, that’s just great. I swear, they’re like rabbits in heat or something.” John followed her gaze to see Austin and Carrie kissing in the corner; the sight brought an identical frown to his face. “They can’t do that here, dammit – Doc thinks he’s married to you.”
Sami crossed her arms defiantly. “That’s right, she does. And no matter how much they like to torture me, they’d better cut it out.” John

opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “I’ll take care of it.” Abe and John watched her cross the room and interrupt the two lovers. She pulled Carrie roughly away from Austin and said something in a sharp voice. Carrie turned to see John frowning at them, looked away guiltily, and disappeared into the kitchen. Austin sighed in exasperation and followed her. Sami watched him go, a scowl on her face, then stalked over to the stairs. She shot a glance at John and muttered, “I’ll be lookout, okay?” He nodded sympathetically, but she’d already disappeared up thesteps.

Well, it looks like everyone she would have invited is here already. John held up his hand to quiet the room so he wouldn’t have to raise his voice. Family and friends immediately quit talking and eyed him expectantly. “Okay, people,” he began in a low voice, cradling Belle to his chest. “Get ready for the performance of your lives. Remember, Doc doesn’t know that I’m not Roman, she thinks we’re still married, and she believes that Stefano is dead. She *can’t* find out any differently this evening. Be careful what you say, and not just to her. Don’t talk about this situation at all, not even if you think you’ve found a quiet corner somewhere. We have to be on our toes – for Marlena’s sake. We have to be *so* careful.” His voice echoed with passion and urgency. “I know how much all of you – all of *us* – love her. We have to do everything in our power to protect her.”
Bo surveyed the room of anxious faces and then focused his gaze on John. “You got it, man. We’ll do everything we can for Marlena, don’t worry.”
John raised his brows, mouth quirking ironically. “Don’t *worry*?” Bo smiled a little, “Well, don’t let her *see* you worry, at least.” John nodded his thanks. “Got it, bro.”
Staccato footsteps sounded on the stairs as Sami reappeared. “They’re coming,” she announced as she took up position next to John. The room held its collective breath as Marlena appeared at the foot of the stairs, Brady in her arms. A delighted smile dawned across John’s face when he saw the results of the compromise she and Brady had made – the little boy wore his tie *and* his baseball cap and he was giggling, clearly proud of himself.
Marlena halted at the foot of the stairs, her eyes filling with tears as she beheld her friends and family. She hiked Brady up higher on her

hip and held her hand to her mouth, desperately trying to control her emotions. The room was utterly still as the moments passed, until Alice Horton finally approached her. “Welcome home, Marlena, dear.” The tears spilled over. “Oh, Alice…” She embraced the older woman and kissed her on the cheek, “It’s so good to see you…” Alice cupped Marlena’s cheek with her hand and smiled. “Not half as good as it is to see you – alive, healthy and happy. You really had us worried, Marlena.”

“I’ll second that,” Bo said, as he and Hope stepped up to take their turn. He kissed her cheek and reached for Brady, who grinned and held out his arms. “Uncle Bo!” Marlena reluctantly surrendered the little boy to his uncle, then turned to embrace Hope with enthusiasm. “I’m so glad you’re here.” She leaned back from the hug and held Hope by the shoulders, shaking her head ruefully. “You don’t look *any* older, it’s positively annoying.” Bo wrapped his free arm around his fiancee’s shoulder and grinned, “Isn’t it, though? She’s as beautiful now as the day we got married.”
John watched the byplay with concern. He could see the strain behind the happiness on Marlena’s face – the awful dawning certainty that not only were her memories of *her* life missing, but her memories of all the lives of those around her. He gave Belle to Abe and walked over to stand next to Marlena, sliding his arm around her waist for moral support. She sank gratefully into his embrace, but her smile didn’t falter as each friend and family member stepped up to greet her. John studied her face surreptitiously, smiling tenderly at the expression of genuine surprise on her face as she realized exactly how much all these people loved her. You should have known, Doc. You should have known how much we love you.
The procession of friends and family finally came to an end. Marlena’s arm around John’s waist tightened as she wiped away her tears with her free hand. Her gaze touched upon everyone in the room in turn. “I can’t begin to tell all of you how much it means to me that you came here tonight. This…situation is very difficult for all of us, and I want you all to know how much I appreciate all the effort you’ve gone to on my behalf.” She smiled tenderly at her children, who had commandeered the couch for themselves – Austin holding Will on his lap, Sami cradling Belle, and Brady standing on the cushion behind Carrie, his

arms wrapped around her neck. “This celebration is in part a thank you to my children for all the hard work they have done at a very difficult time in their lives. It isn’t easy for a child when a parent…forgets, and our children have had to deal with this more often than their fair share. I hope you know how much I love you,” she said to them. Visibly touched, they nodded.

Marlena turned to look up at John. “And I hope you know how much I love you, honey.” Swallowing hard, he nodded. She turned to address the room again. “Some of you may not be aware that my husband and I just had an anniversary – the tenth anniversary of our *second* wedding.” She laughed. “And a lot of you might be wondering why anyone would want to have to remember *two* anniversaries instead of just one. But the anniversary that just passed is a very special one to us.” She turned back to John, meeting his eyes with such a loving gaze that he felt his soul melt. “When Roman and I first got married, I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone on this earth. And when I lost him it nearly destroyed me. For a long time life seemed barely worth living for me. But then I met a man…” She reached up and gently wiped away a wayward tear that had escaped down John’s cheek. “A wonderful, beautiful, *mysterious* man – who teased me and fought with me and frustrated me…and intrigued me. I didn’t know anything about him…except that I *wanted* to know everything. There was a connection between us that I didn’t understand…but it became *so* important to me to maintain that connection, to make it stronger, because it made me feel *alive* again. So alive…” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him softly, lingeringly. “And our love was reborn, stronger than before – deeper, as though our souls were now truly one. And that’s what our second wedding symbolizes for me

– both a reaffirmation *and* a beginning.” For long moments they remained lost in each other’s eyes.
Finally Marlena wrenched her gaze away from his to see the engrossed expressions on the faces of friends and family. “I suppose we could look at this as our third beginning. A chance for us to realize all over again how fortunate we are to have each other – and all of you.” She took John’s hand and led him around the couch to the low table which held the glasses of champagne. She picked one up, handed it to him and gestured for everyone to help themselves. She

held her own glass up in the air. “As the hostess of this celebration, I’d like to propose a toast – A toast – to the man I love more than anything in the world…to the children I cherish beyond all else…to the family that gives me so much love and support…and to the friends who make life such a joy.” Glasses rose all around the room. Marlena turned to John, and as their gazes and their glasses met he felt such a rush of overwhelming love that it took his breath away. He barely heard the calls of “Cheers!” from the others in the room, so consumed was he by the sight and sound and smell of her. As the champagne bubbled down his throat he remembered the taste of her as well. He set his champagne glass down on the table in order to give in to the overwhelming urge to taste her again. He reached out to cup her face with his hands and their lips met in an explosion of love, tenderness and desire.

Long moments later, the kiss finally ended. Marlena wrapped her arms
around his chest and buried her face in his neck. “Oh, I love you so.”
He held her tightly and closed his eyes for a moment. “I love you, too,
Doc,” he whispered. When he opened his eyes again he found himself
looking toward the couch. Brady and Belle were watching them,
entranced and delighted. Carrie had a bemused expression on her
face, while Austin bounced Will on his knee, oblivious. Sami met his
gaze for long moments, her face unreadable; finally, she looked away
toward the front of the house. An expression of abject horror came
over her face. John turned to follow her gaze. His eyes widened in
shock as he saw Kristen standing in the open doorway, her face
suffused with anger.
Chapter 18
Marlena held John tightly, relishing the feel of his body against hers and the reassuring vibration of his heartbeat. She squeezed her eyes shut and sent her thanks up to God. Thank you, God, for everything you’ve given me. I know I may have seemed ungrateful these past few days, angry for the memories I’ve lost. But I haven’t forgotten the beautiful children you’ve given us, the wonderful family and friends…I haven’t forgotten that it was you that gave me this amazing man in my arms… She smiled and buried her head in his neck. Thank you…
John’s arms instinctively tightened around Marlena as he stared at the doorway in shock. Kristen’s angry eyes were locked on the two of

them, but hers were the only ones. The rest of the party guests stared at Kristen along with John, their apprehension apparent in their sudden total silence. The only sound in the room came from Will, gurgling quietly to himself in Austin’s arms on the couch. Sami shot a panicked look toward John, who could only shrug helplessly. That small movement caused Marlena to look up at him, then turn to follow his gaze to the woman at the door. Her brow furrowed as she extracted herself from John’s embrace and crossed over to the doorway. “Miss…Blake, isn’t it?” Kristen swallowed and said in a strangled voice, “That’s right.”

Marlena smiled and gestured for her to enter. “I’m so happy you could come. I wanted to apologize to you for…well, for not recognizing you in the hospital when you came to visit me. When I saw your name and number in my address book I realized that we must be…friends? Is that right?”
Kristen bit the inside of her cheek so hard she feared it was bleeding, but managed to nod. “Umm-hmm.” Marlena smiled again. “I’m so glad…I assume you know most of the people here-” she laughed “-it seems like almost everyone I know has *something* to do with the hospital.” Kristen nodded again as Marlena took her arm and drew her across the room to stand in front of John. “Have you met my husband?”
John’s face held a mixture of guilt and anger, but he managed to mask his feelings when Marlena looked up at him, though his smile was forced. He thrust out his hand, regarding Kristen with narrowed eyes full of warning. “Hi, I’m Roman Brady.”
Kristen stared down at his outstretched hand for a moment, darted a quick look around the room, then gingerly shook his hand. “Hi…” Marlena swept an arm toward the couch. “And these are our children…this is Carrie and Brady, Sami and Belle, Sami’s husband Austin and their son Will.” Their smiles were even more forced than John’s, and it dawned on Marlena that the room was suddenly full of too silent, pale-looking party guests. She turned back to John, who compressed his lips and looked away. “Is something wrong?”
Carrie leapt up from the couch. “What could be wrong, Marlena? I think the party’s going great…except I heard one of the caterers mention they needed to talk to you right before you came down. We’d

probably better go see what he wanted.” Distracted, Marlena nodded and excused herself to Kristen. Carrie took her stepmother’s arm and led her toward the kitchen, shooting a frantic look over her shoulder toward John as they disappeared through the door.

John turned to Kristen, his voice low and vehement. “Kristen, what in the *hell* are you doing here? Kristen raised mutinous eyes to meet his. “I was invited, *Roman*. Marlena called me right after you left and asked me to come. I was just so shocked I said yes without thinking about it.”
“Oh, sure,” Sami said, getting up from the couch. “Like she would have even noticed if you didn’t show up.” She turned to John. “I told you this would be a disaster. Mom’s *bound* to find out everything now.” He shook his head, and Sami snorted derisively. “Come *on*, John, your *wife* just introduced you to your *fiancee*. This is totally insane. We have to tell Mom before she finds out-” she cocked a suspicious brow at Kristen “- from someone else.”
John gripped Sami’s arm urgently. “*No*, Sami, we’re not telling Doc anything until the doctors say it’s okay. All right?” Sami looked away and refused to reply. John turned to Kristen. “I think you’d better go. Sami’s right, this is too risky.”
Kristen managed a sincere-looking smile. “Honey, you don’t have to worry about me. You *know* how concerned I am about Marlena. I would never do anything to jeopardize her health…but she knows I’m here now, and it might look suspicious to her if I leave.” She reached up to caress his cheek and felt a spurt of anger when her touch caused him to flinch. “It’ll be fine, you’ll see…I’ll just hang out with my brother and sister- in-law.” Peter and Jennifer smiled half-heartedly from their position by the French doors.
John shook his head doubtfully. “I don’t know, Kristen. It’s bound to be hard on you, watching Marlena and I celebrate our anniversary and everything…”
Kristen squeezed his arm. “It’s okay, sweetie. I know that this is all pretend – that you’re in love with me, and the real Marlena, wherever she is, knows that she only cares about you as a friend. I can handle it, I promise.”
John managed a wan smile. “Okay, then.” His assent released the room from its state of suspended animation, and doubtful murmuring

began among the guests. John gently pried Kristen’s fingers from his arm. “I’m going to go check on Doc.” He turned and disappeared inside the kitchen within three strides. Kristen stared at the swinging door, concentrating fiercely in order to keep her overwhelming anger from showing on her face. She glanced down to find Sami watching her with speculative eyes. “What?” she asked in a clipped tone.

Sami regarded her silently for a moment, then turned to reach down and gather up her son. She smiled brilliantly with absolute insincerity. “Oh, nothing…absolutely nothing. Come on, baby boy, let’s get you to bed.” She headed for the stairs. Kristen turned to see Austin’s eyes on her, Belle and Brady leaning on his shoulders from either side. She smiled at them, but they merely watched her with solemn eyes. “How are you doing, little ones?” Belle popped her thumb in her mouth; Brady cocked his head to one side. She shifted on her feet, uncomfortably aware that the entire room was watching this little scene. “Aren’t you glad to see your Aunt Kristen?” Brady clambered down off of the couch using Austin’s leg as a brace, then turned to look up at Kristen once he regained his feet, a mutinous expression on his face. “You’re not really my aunt,” he declared suddenly, then turned and raced for the stairs. Kristen looked down at Belle, who hid her face in Austin’s neck. He lifted her into his arms and stood up, regarding Kristen uncomfortably, “I, ah…I think they’re tired. See you later.” He skirted the couch and put Belle down at the foot of the stairs. She regarded him silently for a moment, then scampered up the steps to follow her brother.

Kristen surveyed the room, an uncomfortable half-smile on her face. Peter took pity on her and crossed the room to give her a hug. When he released her he was surprised to see the less-than-humiliated look in her eyes. “Krissy?”
She turned her head to hide her expression from the people who still watched them and kept her voice low, but Peter could still hear the undercurrent of excitement. “This is it, Peter,” she whispered. “This is the night Marlena’s perfect little world blows up in her face.” She beamed at him as she turned to greet Jennifer’s approach.
Bo and Hope watched her from their vantage point next to the fireplace. “What do you make of that, Fancyface?” “I don’t know,” Hope said slowly. “I don’t understand why she came here tonight, Bo.

It can’t be easy for her to watch John and Marlena together. It’s perfectly obvious to absolutely anyone that…well…”

“That John and Marlena love each other? It’s an act, Hope.” She raised an eyebrow. “Is it, Bo? Do you really think so? I don’t. I think it’s clear that Marlena loves John more than anything in the world…and I’m beginning to think he feels the same way about her.”
Bo crunched a carrot and chewed speculatively, his gaze still locked on Kristen as she laughed at something Peter said. “Maybe…and if that’s true – and if Kristen sees it, too – then that might be the reason that she’s here tonight. To remind John of his commitment to her – and their child.”
Hope leaned back against him and sighed. “Oh, God, what a mess,
Brady. I just hope…,” her voice trailed off and she laughed sadly, “I
don’t know *what* I hope…” Bo nodded and snagged another glass of
champagne from the table. “I know exactly what you mean,
Fancyface.” He turned to see John, Marlena and Carrie emerge from
the kitchen. “Maybe we’d better settle for hoping everyone makes it
through this party.”
***
Kristen watched silently as John shepherded Marlena toward the couch and listened to his faint remonstrance to her about conserving her strength. Marlena reached up for John’s hand and pulled him off-balance, causing him to crash down on the couch next to her. They laughed as family and friends began to converge around the couch. Jennifer spotted Jack hovering awkwardly next to the table of champagne and excused herself to Kristen and Peter. Peter scowled as he watched her make her way to her ex-husband. “What the hell is Jack doing here? Marlena didn’t know him ten years ago, did she?”
Kristen shrugged. “I don’t know. She probably just invited all of the Hortons – and you know Alice still considers Jack a Horton.” Peter made a disgusted face. “It doesn’t matter, Peter. You’re Jen’s husband, and, anyway, we don’t have time for this right now.” She looked around the room. “I need your help, Peter. Somehow, some way, I’m going to make sure that Marlena finds out everything tonight. But I have to do it in such a way that no one ever suspects me. Do you have any ideas?”
Peter couldn’t tear his gaze away from Jack and Jennifer, who were

now seated on the couch with Marlena and John. “I don’t know, Krissy. It looks like they’ve been pretty thorough. Carrie and Sami had a couple of days to hide everything incriminating while Marlena was in the hospital.”

Kristen bit her lip, deep in thought. “*Hide* everything, huh? Do you know where?” He glanced at her sharply. “I think I heard Carrie say they put everything in the attic. Why?”
She smiled. “I think it’s time I made a little trip to the attic, then.” She turned toward the stairs, but stopped short as Sami appeared at the foot of the steps and scanned the room, eyes finally lighting on Kristen. She smiled insincerely, made her way to the table of hors d’oeuvres and popped a cracker into her mouth, gaze still locked on Kristen, who smiled at her in return and turned back toward her brother. “Damn, Marlena’s devil-child is watching. You’re going to have to help me, Peter.”
He looked unsure. “I don’t know, Krissy.” She turned to see Marlena take Jack’s hand in sympathy while Jennifer placed a comforting arm around his shoulders. “Look at that, Peter. Isn’t it wonderful the way Marlena brings people together?”
His face hardened in anger. “What do you want me to do?” ***
Marlena smiled softly at Jack and squeezed his hand. “I can’t say that I knew Steve that well, but I know that he was a very good man underneath all that…attitude of his,” she said, chuckling. “He helped Roman rescue me when a horrible man named Orpheus kidnapped me, and he wouldn’t even let me thank him when it was over.”
Jack’s grin was tinged with rueful sadness. “He didn’t really like getting credit for anything. It made him uncomfortable – I think it upset his macho loner self-image.”
Marlena laughed. “I think that’s it exactly. But Roman tells me that he and Kayla were very happy and they had a beautiful little girl.”
He nodded. “Stephanie. She’s a few years older than our little girl, but I hope they become as close as Jen and Hope are. I don’t want Abby or my sister’s kids to miss out on getting to know their cousin because Steve isn’t here anymore. I know he’d hate that.”
Marlena smiled in agreement. “I’m sure you’re right about that. I wish you had brought your little girl with you to the party. I’d love to meet

her, and I’m sure Brady and Belle would have loved entertaining her.” She looked around the room, puzzled. “Where *are* the children, Roman?”

“They’re upstairs, Mom,” Sami said from her position behind the couch where she still watched Kristen, now deep in conversation with Mickey and Maggie. “I took Will up and they came in a few seconds later. They’re playing in Belle’s room.”
“Well, I think I’ll go check on them. It was nice to meet you, Jack.” She enveloped Jennifer in a warm hug. “And it’s wonderful to see *you* again. I can’t get over how much you’ve changed.”
Jen smiled and returned the hug. “I’m definitely not a little girl any more.” Jack stood up from the couch and Jennifer took his hand as they moved off toward the food table. Marlena and John watched them go. “You said they aren’t married any more, didn’t you, Roman? They seem very close for a divorced couple.” He nodded. “They do, don’t they? Do you want me to go with you to check on the children?”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a leisurely kiss. “Nope, I can handle it. You make sure everyone has enough champagne, all right? We don’t want our anniversary party to be a dud, do we?”
He laughed. “I don’t think that’s possible, Doc. Hurry back.” She kissed

him again. “No problem.”
***
Peter gingerly closed the attic door, mentally cursing the thoroughness of the Brady children that had led them to bury everything incriminating under what seemed to be years worth of junk. He tucked the book under his arm and set off down the hallway. I hope this is what you had in mind, Krissy. I can’t believe I’m risking my marriage for this. He castigated himself mentally for letting her get to him so easily, simply by pointing out Jack and Jennifer together. You sure know how to push my buttons, little sister. The sound of footsteps on the stairs brought him out of his reverie. Damn. He looked wildly around the hall and slipped into the nearest room, sighing in relief as he saw it was the master bedroom, complete with attached bathroom and a built-in excuse. He turned back to the door and peered out through the crack. Marlena came down the hall and opened one of the other doors, calling to her children in a cheerful voice. The sound of

childish laughter greeted her.

Great! Peter thought, scanning the room. Now I just have to figure out where to put this. His eyes again lit on the bathroom door. Perfect, he thought, moving past the bed. He opened the book in his hands and stared thoughtfully at the pictures inside. It had fallen open to snapshots of some sort of party. Roman and Marlena stood together underneath a banner that said -NIVERSARY, Roman looking proud and proprietary, Marlena looking faintly sick. Another anniversary party, he thought. I wonder if this is the one… He knew that Belle had been conceived on John’s jet 4 years ago on Roman and Marlena’s anniversary, just as he knew Sami had discovered their secret when they made love on a conference table at the Titan Publishing party that same year. He wondered idly if John or Marlena found it humiliating that everyone in town knew the intimate details of their affair. He turned the page of the book to see a picture of John and Marlena sitting on the couch together, faces serious. He thought he could see the sheen of tears in her eyes. So much pain… he thought before he could stop himself. And now I’m going to contribute to more of it. Like father like son. Peter shook his head miserably, remembering John’s instant forgiveness after he’d been seconds away from death because of Peter’s prosecution. And Marlena…What the hell has she ever done to me…to anyone? Stefano tortured her for years, and now I’m going to continue the family tradition. He shut his eyes. I can’t do this. A mental picture of Kristen’s miserable face swam in front of him, and he considered the future of his sister and his niece or nephew if John and Marlena remained together. Peter sighed. I really don’t have any choice. He laid the book on the marble countertop of the sink and crossed the room to peer around the door. Marlena’s voice sounded faintly from her children’s room. He slipped quietly out of the room and made his way down the hall, sighing in relief when he reached the foot of the stairs unnoticed by anyone. The party guests were clustered in knots about the room. He headed for Jennifer, comfortably ensconced in a group with Bo, Hope, Alice and *Jack*.

“What’s going on?” he asked, pretending he’d just moved on from another group. Jennifer glanced at him distractedly, then returned her concerned gaze to Jack. “Marlena mentioned Jack’s brother, and we

were just talking about him.”

Bo looked grimly sad. “Steve was the best, the absolute best. He died because he was trying to help me, and that’s really hard to live with.” Alice laid a comforting hand on Bo’s arm. He squeezed it gratefully. “He was like a brother to me, just like John is.”
Jack looked down at his hands. “And you were more like a brother to Steve than I ever was.” Jennifer wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulders. “That’s not true, Jack. Steve knew you loved him, I know he did. And he loved you, too. That’s why he gave you that picture.” Peter looked at the wallet in Hope’s hand, opened to an old black and white photo of two little boys. He valiantly tried to subsume his anger as his wife held her ex-husband, and bitterly remembered that it was Marlena who had started this whole chain of events. He turned to catch Kristen’s eyes from across the room and smiled. She smiled back. You’re welcome, Krissy.
***
Marlena shut the door to Belle’s room, smiling softly at the sounds of childish laughter coming from within. Do you want to play tea party, Mommy? Belle had asked. The temptation had been almost overwhelming, but she’d regretfully had to offer a raincheck. And then she’d had to explain what a raincheck was. She’d left them seated around Belle’s doll-sized table, Belle – the proper little lady – serving tea, and Brady valiantly trying to pretend he was interested at all. They get along so well. I guess we’ve done something right. She swiped at the tears of happiness on her cheeks and pursed her lips ruefully. I’ve got to stop crying at the drop of a hat. I must look a mess. She opened the door to the master bedroom and headed for the bathroom. I’ll just check and make sure I haven’t cried all my mascara down my cheeks. She stopped short when she saw the book on the counter. What’s this?
***
“What the hell were you thinking, Carrie?” Sami asked fiercely, momentarily taking her gaze off of Kristen to dart a look toward the stairs. No sign of her mother. Carrie shook off her sister’s hand. “What are you talking about now, Sami?”
Sami rolled her eyes as Austin and John walked up. “I’m talking about leaving *Kristen’s* name in Mom’s address book. Are you *completely*

insane?” Austin’s face colored with anger, but John looked as if he agreed with Sami.

Carrie sighed. “Well, I had already whited-out Dad’s name and John’s name from the B’s in her book, and I thought she might get suspicious if I erased any more. Besides, I didn’t have any idea that Marlena knew who she was.”
John nodded, accepting her explanation. “Well, no real harm done. It could have been a disaster, though. We have *got* to be more careful.”
Sami shot him a plaintive glance. “You actually still believe this could work? I can’t believe this. You’re all nuts.” She threw up her hands and headed for the dessert table. The three of them watched her go, Carrie’s brow furrowed in suspicion. “It almost sounds like she *wants* Marlena to find out, doesn’t it?”
John frowned in disagreement. “Oh, I don’t think so, Carrie. I think Sami wants to protect Marlena as much as we do.” Their eyes widened as they spotted something over his shoulder. He turned to see Marlena arrive at the foot of the stairs, eyes wild, a large leather-bound book in her hands. “Doc?”
The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at her, but she only had eyes for John. She held up the book in her hand, and John saw the PHOTO logo with a sinking heart. Her face was pale, eyes dilated hugely, and he could see the book shaking as her hands trembled. Her voice was a mere whisper. “Please tell me what’s going on. What *is* this, Roman?”
Unnoticed by anyone, Kristen smiled in satisfaction.
Chapter 19
John stared at Marlena, stunned, unable to believe that after all their hard work and all their careful planning, she had still managed to somehow discover the truth on her own. And, as much as he had anticipated and *dreaded* this moment of revelation, he still hadn’t come up with the perfect thing to say to explain the situation. So he simply looked at her, numb, and waited to see what would happen next – along with everyone else.
The room was so quiet Marlena could hear the harsh sound of her own breathing in her ears. She looked wildly down at the book she held, gripped so tightly between her fingers that her knuckles were

white. There has to be an explanation! There has to be! She looked back up at John, who was watching her with something akin to horror on his face. “Roman?” Her voice was faint, and it was Mike, eyes resting on her with a doctor’s clinical detachment, who saw her peril and raced to catch her as her knees gave way. He led her over to the couch on shaky legs as Abe began to wave the party guests out the doorway in a silent single file. Kristen paused next to the coat closet, eyes still glued to Marlena, but Abe pulled on her arm until she reluctantly turned and walked out the door. John shot him a grateful glance as he eased himself onto the couch next to Marlena. “Doc? Are you okay?”

She shut her eyes. “Okay? *Okay*!?! Do you have any *idea* what is in this book, Roman?”
He eyed it, wondering. There were any number of bombshells still to be uncovered, and he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions the way he had when she had found his wallet. “What, Doc?”
She opened the cover of the album, and he could see a stack of loose pictures laying between the pages. She pulled one off of the top of the pile and held it up. He recognized it as a picture from that fateful anniversary four years ago – Roman’s arm rested casually on Marlena’s shoulders as he spoke to John, who stood across from them next to a smiling Carrie. For a moment John wondered what they had been talking about all those years ago. The whole party remained a blur to him, merely a nebulous, hazy aftermath to unforgettable moments of the most incredible passion he had ever experienced. Oh, *God*, Doc…
He raised his eyes to Mike and Laura, who looked at each other, then back at him. Laura nodded slowly and patted Marlena’s shoulder, then she and Mike turned and made their way to the door. John and Marlena sat alone in the room. He steeled himself and somehow managed to raise his eyes to meet hers, which were bright with tears. Here goes…
She looked blindly back down at the picture. “I don’t understand, Roman. This looks like…I…and Carrie’s a grown woman…It’s not *possible*, Roman, but he…looks like you did, before you-” She looked back up at him. “Please *explain* this…”
He closed his eyes, apprehension mixing with sneaky tendrils of relief.

At least the lies would finally end. Even if he was going to lose the love of his life once again. “I’ll try, Doc.” ***

Sami rubbed her arms briskly as the chilly November wind whipped through the thin sleeves of her blouse. She eyed the closed french doors, wondering anxiously what was happening in the room behind them. “What do you think is going on?” She turned back to Carrie and Austin, who were waving to the last of the guests pulling out of the driveway. Austin shot her a dirty look. “What, you mean you didn’t set up a camera to record it for posterity?”
Sami’s jaw dropped and she blinked, stung. “What are you talking about, Austin?” Carrie rolled her eyes. “Come on, Sami. You and I were the only ones who had any idea where those photo albums were. We *buried* them in the attic under years worth of junk. There is *no* way Marlena could have found that book on her own, and *I* didn’t do it, so who does that leave?”
Sami looked from Austin to Carrie, a lead ball of queasy foreboding forming in the pit of her stomach. “*I* didn’t do it, either. I swear I didn’t!”
Austin snorted, “Sure, Sami. Just like you *didn’t* drug me into sleeping with you, like you *didn’t* faint at our wedding on purpose to reveal your pregnancy, like you *didn’t* kidnap your own baby sister. We know all about the things you *haven’t* done, Sami. But I can’t believe you actually risked your own mother’s mental health for a little revenge. That’s low, even for you.”
Sami closed her eyes, wincing. I think I finally understand what that story about crying wolf is all about. “I didn’t,” she moaned softly, knowing they wouldn’t believe her. “I didn’t…”
Austin ignored her and eyed at the front of the house, which projected a normal, solid, suburban Leave-It-To-Beaver facade. But underneath that facade… He grimaced. “I don’t think John and Marlena are going to want to see us anymore tonight, Carrie. We might as well go. We can call them tomorrow.” She nodded slowly, obviously torn. “He’ll break it to her as gently as he can, Carrie. There isn’t anything you can do to help right now.”
She sighed, “I know you’re right, but-” She took a deep breath. “Okay, so what about Will?” “Sami can take care of him…that is, if John will

even let her into the house after what she’s done. But I’m sure he’ll be okay for tonight. Brady and Belle are there.”

Carrie smiled. “Yeah, he’s probably having the time of his life with his
aunt and uncle.” She slipped her arm around his waist. “Let’s go.”
Austin wrapped an arm about her shoulders and they walked away as
one toward his car, departing without a word to Sami. She watched
them leave, eyes full of tears – from the bitter cold or their harsh
words, she couldn’t tell. When they had finally slipped from sight, Sami
turned back toward the house, shoulders slumping in worry and
defeat. She focused her gaze on the french doors, as if staring hard
enough would enable her to see through them to the drama unfolding
within. Are you all right, Mom? The biting wind rose to a keening
whistle, but she didn’t even feel it.
***
John gently pried the picture from Marlena’s hands, mind racing as he wondered how in the world to begin. “Oh, Doc, I’m so sorry. I didn’t want you to find out this way. *Mike* didn’t want you to find out this way. We’ve been so worried about how it would affect you-”
“How *what* would affect me? Didn’t want me to find out *what*? Please, Roman-” He held up his hand to stop her midsentence. “No, Doc.” She frowned. “No? What do you mean, ‘No’? No *what*, Roman?”
He ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “No *Roman*, Doc. Don’t you understand? I’m not Roman. The man in that picture is Roman Brady, not me.”
Marlena watched him from the corner of her eye, a small, uncertain smile of stunned disbelief on her face. “Oh, come on, Roman, I *know* who you are.”
John abruptly shot up from the couch and began to pace with restless energy. “You do know me, Doc. You know me better than anyone ever has, better than anyone in this world. You know my heart and my soul, my thoughts and my dreams…” He stopped pacing and sank down on his knees in front of her, taking both of her hands in his. “But you don’t know my name, sweetheart, because we…we were wrong about me, honey. I’m not Roman Brady…I never was.”
She shook her head back and forth wildly as if to prevent his words from reaching her ears. Her hands felt like blocks of ice in his. “No,

you’re wrong…the picture…the picture from the plastic surgeon’s files, it proved you *are* Roman Brady, my husband. You *are*!”

John shook his head slowly, his eyes never leaving hers. “No, Doc, it didn’t.” He took a deep breath. “That was just what Stefano wanted you to believe.”
Marlena’s face drained of all remaining color. “Stefano!?!” “That’s right.” He nodded grimly. “We were right about him, Doc. He wasn’t dead – even if he wasn’t *me*. That bullet you pumped into him wasn’t fatal. And he never gave up on punishing the Bradys. What he did to me…well, that was just part of his revenge.”
Her voice was a mere whisper. “What did he do to you?” John sighed and looked away. “He brainwashed me. He took away my past and my life – and he gave me Roman’s in their place. And then he sent me to you, to make you believe that I was your husband…and you did.”
She pulled her hands from his to cup his face in her palms and said urgently, “I did – and I still *do*. You *are* my husband. I don’t care what Stefano DiMera or *anyone* else says. I felt the connection between us from the first moment I saw you again. You are my *husband*.”
He reached up and circled her wrists with his fingers, gently pulling her hands away and placing them in her lap. “No, Doc. I married you using another man’s name and another man’s life. It wasn’t legal. You were still married to the *real* Roman Brady when…when we fell in love.”
Marlena’s stricken eyes dropped to the discarded pictures on the couch, and she reached out and ran tentative fingers over them, unable to dismiss the truth when it was staring at her in Kodacolor. “Where *is* he, then?” she asked softly. “And where *was* he, all those years ago, if he was still my husband?”
John rose heavily to his feet and resumed his pacing. He decided her second question would be infinitely easier to answer than her first. “Stefano had him, Doc. He found him on the beach under the cliff after Bo left to get help, and he took him away and locked him up for seven years.”
Marlena looked up at him, eyes wide. “Seven *years*?” John nodded. “But finally, five years ago, Roman escaped from him, and then he came back to Salem – to his family, his job, his home…and his

*wife*…”

Marlena looked back down at the picture and ran the tip of her finger over the festive ANNIVERSARY banner hanging over their heads. “To me? Are you telling me that after six years of marriage I just said to you, ‘Sorry, I was wrong, you have to leave now’ and suddenly we weren’t married anymore? Now I *know* that none of this can be true, because I *never* could have done that. Never!”
He stared down at his hands. “No, *we* never could have done that.
But it didn’t happen that way, Doc. We…we weren’t married when
Roman came back.”
That rocked her for a moment, but then she shook her head firmly. “We *never* would have gotten a divorce.” Her voice held utter conviction, as if pronouncing a statement of unalterable fact. John had to smile upon hearing it. He sat down gingerly on the cushion next to her.
“No, Doc, you’re absolutely right. We never would have divorced. And if we had been together for those six years then I firmly believe that things would have turned out a lot differently than they did when Roman came back.”
“Why weren’t we together then?” Marlena asked hesitantly. He took her hand in his again and squeezed it gently. “Do you remember what I asked you in the hospital about the last thing you remembered happening, Doc?”
She frowned. “Of course. And I told you the last thing I remembered was looking for you in the tower as the plane went down. I said I didn’t remember you rescuing me or anything else after that moment.”
John drew her hand up to his cheek and shut his eyes, relishing the soft feel of her skin. He kept his eyes closed so as not to reveal the burning shame he felt for the oneunchangeable fact he was now compelled to reveal to her. “I didn’t rescue you, Doc…I believed you *died* in that plane crash.”
Marlena’s eyes filled with tears of empathy. “Oh, Roman, how horrible you must have felt. I’m so sorry…” He nodded, deeply touched by her compassion. “I did feel horrible…In fact, losing you nearly destroyed me. If it weren’t for the children I don’t know what I would have done. It was a long time before I could think of any reason to get out of bed in the morning, except for them.”

She used her thumb to wipe away a wayward tear forming in the corner of his eye. “A long time, you said…how long, Ro-” she cut herself off abruptly, then repeated, “How long – how long was it until you found out I was still alive?”

His hand captured hers and held it against his cheek. “Five years, Doc. I thought you were dead for five endless years…until one night when I suddenly felt compelled to take a walk on the pier…on *our* pier…and I saw the figure of a ghost in the distance – no, not a ghost, an *angel* – and she called out to me. And I walked toward her, not believing what my eyes and my ears told me…not until I touched her. And then I knew she wasn’t an angel, she was *real* and she was *here*. God, Doc, that was one of the greatest moments of my life.”
She smiled tearily. “Mine, too, I imagine. So what happened to me? Where was I for five years?” He swallowed thickly. “Stefano had you, Doc. He must’ve found you after the plane crash and decided revenge would be much more satisfying if he had both you *and* Roman.”
She nodded gravely. “So he held me in prison, too, then?” John shook his head. “Not exactly. He…he drugged you, Doc. He kept you in a coma for five years.” She sat back, stunned. “Then something went wrong and you woke up. And even though you didn’t know where you were or what was going on, something inside you told you that you had to escape from that place…and you did, and you made your way back to Salem.”
“Back to you…” He compressed his lips and nodded. “But it wasn’t the homecoming you imagined. I don’t know if I ever told you how sorry I am for that, but I’m telling you now.”
“Why wasn’t it the homecoming I imagined? Was Roman already here?” Her voice held both curiosity and apprehension. “You said Stefano held him for seven years and me for five – that would mean that we came back around the same time, right?”
John sighed, stood, and walked over toward the french doors. He fingered the doorhandles, his mind’s eye recreating the heartbreaking scene she must have beheld through those doors after fighting so hard to make her way back to him. “Roman hadn’t come back by the time you made it to Salem. You weren’t…you weren’t quite sure how to approach me, Doc. And you didn’t want to scare the kids. So you tried to call me at the police station – asked for *Captain* Brady, really

threw my sergeant, I can tell you – but I wasn’t there. Then you came over here to try and see me, and…” His voice trailed off as his mind painted a vivid picture of the pain she must have felt watching him propose to Isabella. “And?”

His eyes acquired a faraway look as they perused the room, seeing a scene that had ended long before. “You told me later that you were standing right outside these doors. I was in here, on the couch…,” his gaze rested on her, “…sitting right where you are now, in fact.” He closed his eyes and bowed his head. “Right next to Isabella.”
Marlena’s breath caught in her throat. “Isabella?” she murmured faintly. John kept his closed, unwilling to see the pain on her face. “Isabella Beatrice Toscano…a beautiful, courageous girl. She was…my fiancee. You watched me propose to her that night.” He waited in silence for her to reply but she didn’t make a sound. He opened his eyes to see her sitting stiffly on the sofa, eyes straight ahead, an expression of such bleakness on her face that he felt as though he’d just been punched in the stomach. “Please say something, Doc.”
She wouldn’t look up at him. “I…I don’t know *what* to say, Ro-” She winced and shook her head, bringing her hands up to cover her ears. “I can’t…I can’t believe this, any of it.”
John sat down next to her on the couch and tugged on her hand, cradling it in his. “It’s true, Doc. I wouldn’t lie to you about something this important.”
Marlena kept her eyes straight ahead. “If it *is* true then you’ve been lying to me from the moment I woke up in that hospital room.”
He looked away and nodded wearily. “You’re right. I didn’t want to, Marlena…but Mike and Laura thought it was best. They weren’t sure you could handle anything more than finding out you’d lost ten years of your life. They think…they think your amnesia isn’t simply the result of your head injury, Doc. They think there may be some psychological trauma at the root of it. And they thought you would need me to help you readjust – and need me to be *Roman* while you did it.”
She nodded mechanically. “So you concocted this elaborate charade and persuaded the entire town to go along with it.” A pained expression crossed her face. “I can’t believe this. Shawn…Caroline…my God, the *children* – all pretending that you’re

someone you aren’t anymore.” She finally turned to face him. “What did he…what does *Roman* think of this?”

John stood up again, wanting to get away from her questions, dreading the revelations that would come next even more than what had gone before. “I’m not sure he knows, Doc. Caroline said they would try to get a message to him, but he’s working on a case that has him incommunicado for months at a time.”
Silence. Then – “I *really* don’t understand now. In the pictures…I’m married to *him* in the pictures, aren’t I?”
John nodded slowly. “Yes…” He turned back toward the couch and reluctantly resumed his seat, waiting in silence until her eyes finally met his again. They were cloudy with pain, sorrow, and an unbearable soul-deep hurt. Oh, Doc… He took a deep breath and covered her hands with his. “It’s really difficult to explain what happened after you came back, Doc. I was just so *confused* about what to do. I loved Isabella, I really did. But when I saw you standing there on the docks, it was like those five years just disappeared and you and I were man and wife again, and…” he clenched his jaw. “I couldn’t deal with it. So I decided to do what I could about finding out what had happened to you for all those years. I thought if I could just make sense out of it then I would know what I should do.”
He took a deep breath and continued, “You and I figured out where you had been held – an island called San Cristobal in the Caribbean. So we went there…and that’s where we found him. Roman, I mean. The *real* Roman.” He laughed with unconscious bitterness. “Not that I believed it at the time…and you didn’t either, not entirely. His captors had told him some garbage about me being a trained assassin. He kept accusing me of being in league with your captor, of being somebody paid to destroy the Brady family – basically a cold-blooded killer.” He smiled painfully. “You told him that was crazy – you knew better than to believe that I would harm you. But you also couldn’t dismiss his claims about who he was. So we brought him back to Salem with us.”
Her eyes were wide. “What happened?”
“I asked him to wait until I could prepare everyone for the shock, but he called Bo the first chance he got and Bo took him to see the rest of the family. They believed him right away when he told them he was

Roman. I walked in to find them welcoming him home.” Marlena heard the pain underlying his words and bowed her head in sympathy. “Then Shawn and Caroline decided to start calling me *John* again.” Her head snapped up, eyes ablaze with indignation. He held up a calming hand. “I won’t say it didn’t hurt, but I understand now why they did it. After all, they were right.”

She shook her head angrily. “No, they weren’t. It doesn’t matter if you aren’t their son by blood. You *were* their son for seven years. You loved them as a son and cared for them as a son – they never should have *hurt* you that way!”
Thank you for that, Doc. “They were in a really difficult position, though. They didn’t want to hurt me – but they didn’t want Roman to think my feelings mattered more than his, either. He had been through so much for so long. And they felt guilty and disloyal for ever believing I was him in the first place.”
She steepled her hands in front of her mouth and said in a pained voice, “Because I convinced them that you were…and I convinced *you* that you were, too.” She looked away, guilt written all over her face. “You must have hated me for that.”
“I could *never* hate you, Doc!” John’s voice held utter conviction, and he stared at her until she met his eyes and he saw that she understood he meant what he said. Then he walked over to the mantle and gazed with unseeing eyes on the pictures. “And, anyway, at that point I didn’t believe you *were* wrong about me being Roman. Even after the ISA performed a blood test that proved I wasn’t, I still wouldn’t accept it.” He shook his head, remembering. “Anyway, we followed what information we had to Mexico, where we found Stefano. He admitted that he had brainwashed me, and he taunted me with a satchel he said contained the secrets to my past. But the bag was damaged in the fire that *supposedly* killed him, and the contents were all but unusable. So there I was – no name, no family…no *wife*. Just a bag of charred unidentifiable clues and a baby on the way.”
Marlena started. “A baby!?!” He nodded, a slight smile of remembrance on his lips. “Umm- hmm. Isabella told me in Mexico that she was pregnant. And after I found out who I really *wasn’t* I needed something…something to prove that I *existed*, that I *mattered* – even if I *wasn’t* Roman Brady. Isabella and our baby could give me

that…and you couldn’t.” She stared down at her tightly clenched hands. “Or you didn’t *want* me to…”

He shook his head sadly. “No, Marlena, that wasn’t it. I loved you then, as much as I ever had, maybe more. And you loved me, despite everything we’d discovered – I knew that. But you loved Roman, too, and I loved Isabella. And I needed to find *my* life, a life apart from an identity that could never be mine, no matter how much I wanted it to be. So we decided to…well, to go on with the people who loved us…and to try and forget what we meant to each other.”
She compressed her lips and shook her head in disbelief. “That *couldn’t* have worked.” He eyed a picture of Eric and Sami smiling proudly, seated on shiny new bicycles. “You’re right, Doc. It didn’t. I wish we had known then that it wouldn’t. It would have saved everyone a lot of heartache.” Marlena bit her lower lip, then forced herself to ask, “What do you mean?”
John sighed and returned to the couch. “It worked for a little while. You and Roman and the kids started a life together, and Isabella and I concentrated on her pregnancy and the search for my true identity. She gave birth to Brady on our wedding day – went into labor right in the middle of the ceremony, so he was the littlest witness.” He smiled warmly at the memory, but then a shadow crossed his face. “We were happy for a little while…a few months after Brady’s birth she went to the doctor and found out…and found out that she had incurable pancreatic cancer.”
Marlena’s eyes filled with tears. “Oh, God…” He nodded bleakly. “I just went numb, Doc. We’d worked so hard to create a new life for ourselves – Izzy B. and Brady were the only things in the world that were *mine*. And I was losing her…I just couldn’t handle it. I shut down totally. And after she died everyone talked about how well I was dealing with it, but you knew that I *wasn’t*, and Isabella had known that would happen.” He smiled at Marlena, eyes swimming with tears. “She asked you to promise to take care of me and Brady, and you said you would. You were the only one who could get through to me, the only one that could make me feel alive. I *needed* you desperately…and I guess it started to get on Roman’s nerves a little.”
Her face was incredulous. “Roman was *angry* with me for helping you deal with the death of your *wife*?”

“I don’t know – not exactly, Doc. He didn’t *confide* in me, you know. But I got the impression from Carrie and from a few things that he said in passing that you two had been having problems because…well, because he preferred to live as if those years apart had never happened, and you weren’t able to do that. He wanted…he wanted to turn back time, I think. He treated Carrie like she was still a little girl – Sami and Eric, too. It drove Carrie nuts. She used to come to me and complain about it, and, boy, did he really hit the roof when he heard about that.”

Marlena frowned. “Couldn’t he understand how attached they were to you? You were their father for so long…”
“He didn’t like to think about that, Doc – about me being their father *or* your husband.” He picked up a couch pillow and began to squeeze it between his hands. “You and he got into a big fight about that right before you were supposed to leave for a conference in New York. Then, on the way to the conference you were…abducted by the wife of one of your patients, an unbalanced woman who blamed you for the end of her marriage. She held you in an abandoned warehouse for weeks.” He paused a moment to see how she was taking this piece of news, but she regarded him calmly. “I managed to figure out where you were a few moments before the building was demolished. We ended up trapped in there together…we thought we were going to die, Doc. We started talking…and suddenly all the things we had been suppressing, all the feelings we’d denied for the good of everyone else
– they all came to the surface. And once we were rescued we had a really hard time dealing with them.”
Marlena swallowed. “What happened?” John bowed his head in guilt. “We…tried to get past them, but we couldn’t. We tried *very* hard, I swear. But we…eventually gave into them, Doc. You and I…we had an affair.” She paled. “Oh my God…”
He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “It was my fault, Doc. If I hadn’t pressured you to acknowledge your feelings, nothing ever would have happened between us. Roman and your family never would have been hurt, and he never would have left you. But my feelings for you were *so* strong, and I was so tired of losing everyone I ever loved…”
Marlena released his hand and edged away, standing up to walk

toward the french doors. She crossed her arms protectively in front of her chest. “So Roman and I got divorced?” “Yes.” She considered that for a moment, then turned back toward him. “What about Belle, then? You said Brady was Isabella’s son, but that she died a few months after he was born. So who is Belle’s mother?”

“You are, Doc.” He paused for a moment, but couldn’t think of a way to soften the news. “Belle was the result of our affair. We didn’t know that until she was a few months old, however. Sami had…discovered our affair and altered the blood tests because she was desperate to keep her family intact.”
Marlena closed her eyes in pain, swaying slightly. “Oh, poor Sami. No wonder she had a baby so young…”
John abruptly decided that she couldn’t handle the particulars about Sami just then. “She’s all right, Doc. We all are. I know this is hard to take in all at once, but you have to understand that we all made it through okay. Your children and your family, they still love you very much. Why do you think they were willing to go through all this?” He waved an arm at the detritus of the party.
She rubbed her eyes tiredly, shoulders slumping. “I’m sorry…I just…can’t deal with this.” She looked back up at the room and recoiled slightly upon seeing the decorations. “I have to get out of here, Ro-…I have to go.”
He leapt up from the couch. “Go where, Doc?” She shook her head. “I don’t know…the Fish M-…the Pub, maybe, I guess. I just need some time to get a grip on all of…this…everything. Can you…possibly understand that?”
John nodded and walked over to join her at the door as she reached for the doorknob. He held up a hand to touch her, but stopped himself inches from her back. Marlena stilled suddenly, as if sensing his indecision, then turned back toward him and stood up on tiptoe to plant a soft kiss on his lips. He barely managed to restrain himself from pulling her into his arms. Her gaze was intense as she looked up at him. “I need for you to know that I *do* love you – that could *never* change.” She shrugged helplessly. “I just-”
He placed his index finger over her lips to silence her. “I understand, Doc.” He peered out into the darkness and pointed to a car parked at the curb. “That’s Frank, the guard I told you about. He’ll give you a ride

to the Pub. Just tell him I said it was okay, and the code word is FORTRESS.”

Marlena nodded slightly, looking shell-shocked. “Tell him *you* said…,” her voice trailed off. She looked up at him in silence, eyes filling with tears, which finally spilled over as she asked in a heartwrenching voice, “But who *are* you?”
John smiled through his own tears, though he could feel his heart breaking. He reached up and rubbed her tears away with the pads of his thumbs. “Why, I’m John Black.”
A low tormented sob broke from her throat. She reached out and hugged him to her fiercely and swiftly, and he could feel the hot wetness of her tears soaking through the front of his shirt. Then she turned and pelted quickly down the walkway toward the car. He watched as she said something through the window to Frank, who looked up to where John stood in the doorway. He nodded to the driver as Marlena sank into the back seat. Seconds later, she was gone in a flash of headlights and engine exhaust.
He simply stood there in the doorway, watching. Goodbye, Doc. Chapter 20
Marlena idly ran her hand along the brass railing of the bar at the back of the Brady Pub. She studied her reflection in the mirror behind the liquor display, the glass bottles refracting her image into some kind of bizarre Picasso figurine, broken and sad. Eyes rimmed with red, her hair drawn up in a haphazard ponytail and clad in an old SALEM POLICE ACADEMY sweatshirt and pants, she looked as if she hadn’t slept at all last night. Truth in advertising, I suppose, she thought wryly. When she reached the end of the bar she collapsed onto the far left stool, propped her elbows up on the polished wood and buried her head in her hands. What am I going to do? She rubbed her eyes wearily, then opened them to find herself staring at a small plaque affixed to the wall underneath a large round red and green dartboard. She had to squint to read the small print.
THIS DARTBOARD IS HEREBY OFFICIALLY KNOWN AS THE JOHN BLACK MEMORIAL DARTBOARD IN THANKS FOR HIS GENEROSITY IN MAKING IT – AND THE PUB THAT HOUSES IT – POSSIBLE. YOU WILL ALWAYS BE OUR SON, OUR BROTHER, AND OUR FRIEND. EVERLASTING LOVE AND THANKS. THE

MANAGEMENT.

A grin came unbidden to her face, forcing its way to the surface even as the tears began to flow. Son, brother and friend…but not husband. You can have more than one son, more than one brother, and more than one friend – but only one husband. Her breath hitched as she choked back a sob. Dammit, you’ve cried enough! she thought angrily as she swiped at her tears, but it was no use. Giving up the futile effort, she crossed her arms on top of the bar and buried her head in them, shoulders shaking as she dissolved into heartwrenching sobs.
From the foot of the stairs Caroline watched her, her face a mask of worry and compassion. John had phoned them the night before to warn them that Marlena would be coming and to update them on what she had just learned and what he hadn’t yet revealed. He’d tried to sound optimistic, but Caroline had heard the intense worry underlying his determinedly calm voice. When Marlena had finally arrived, Caroline had taken one look at her and realized that the last thing she needed was more questions, so she had wordlessly led her daughter-in-law upstairs to one of the spare rooms. Marlena had collapsed onto the bed without saying a word. Maybe after a few hours of sleep she’ll feel like talking about it, Caroline had thought as she softly shut the door. But looking at Marlena now, Caroline suspected that she hadn’t even been able to sleep for a few *moments*, let alone hours. I have to help her…but how?
***
John awoke to find himself stretched out on the couch in the Brady living room, feet dangling over the right armrest, head bent at an awkward angle. He rubbed his aching neck and stared at the ceiling blankly, disoriented and confused. Where am I? He turned his head slightly as his attention was caught by the table full of sparkling glasses of long-flat champagne. Oh, God… he thought, closing his eyes in pain as he remembered falling asleep on the couch, unable to face the idea of sleeping alone in the bed that he had shared with Marlena only one night before. It hadn’t mattered that they hadn’t made love in it since she had returned from the hospital – it was still *their* bed and *their* room. One of the hardest things he’d ever had to do in his entire life was returning to that room after he’d believed that she was dead and lost to him forever. He had no desire to revisit

that loss and pain, even in muted form. Not that sleeping on the couch had enabled him to avoid it.

He sighed and reluctantly levered himself up into a sitting position, but he lacked the energy to actually get up from the couch. He knew that at any moment Brady and Belle would come racing down the stairs and demand to know where Mommy was. He’d been saved any explanations last night because they’d fallen asleep on the floor in Belle’s room, exhausted from their exciting day. But there would be no way to avoid the questions this morning. He leaned back against the couch and closed his eyes. What am I going to say?
Sami halted at the foot of the stairs, her courage suddenly failing her
at the sight of John’s dejected form. He’s going to think I did it, just like
Carrie and Austin. She would’ve liked to be able to point him to a likely
alternative suspect, but, viewing the situation objectively, she had to
admit that the smart money could only be lain on her. The only other
person with a motive that she could discern was Kristen, and Sami
hadn’t let the woman out of her sight long enough for her to find the
carefully hidden photo album. She’d had to discard Kristen as a
suspect, albeit reluctantly. And, frankly, Sami, that leaves me, myself,
and I on the probable list…or at least he’ll think so. She watched John
for a moment, heart contracting just a bit at the abject misery etched
on his face. I can’t face him now, she decided, grimacing slightly at her

cowardice as she turned to go back up the stairs. A hungry morning
cry from her son caused her to jump and bang her arm against the
wall. John opened his eyes and looked toward the stairs. Their eyes
met.
***
Marlena started when Caroline laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. The older woman smiled apologetically. “I’m sorry, dear. Are you all right?” Marlena wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand and nodded wearily. “I guess Ro-…I guess *John* called you, then?” Caroline seated herself on the stool next to Marlena’s. “Yes. He tried to hide it, but I could tell that he was terribly worried about you.”
Marlena clasped her hands together tightly and stared down at the polished wooden countertop. “I didn’t…take the news very well. And Mike and Laura had him thinking I’d get hysterical and have a breakdown or something.”

Caroline frowned worriedly. “You aren’t angry with him for keeping things from you, are you? He didn’t want to lie, but he had to do what the doctors’ thought was best. We all did.”

Marlena shut her eyes. “I *know* that. I just wish…I don’t know *what* I wish.” She opened her eyes and studied her hands. “No, that’s not true. I *do* know what I wish. I wish this was all a horrible mistake. I want my *life* back – the life I had in 1986. I want the life that I *remember*, the *husband* that I remember…” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Caroline wince and look away. She drew in a sharp breath. “I’m sorry, Caroline. I wasn’t thinking. Of course I wasn’t wishing that he…that *Roman* were still being held by Stefano. I just…” Her voice trailed off and she sighed.
Caroline laid a comforting hand on top of hers. “I understand, dear. Finding out about him the way you did must have been quite a shock.” Marlena shoved away from the bar and began to pace restlessly. “*That’s* an understatement. When I saw those pictures…” She halted and turned toward Caroline. “It must have been a shock for all of you, too…”
Caroline nodded, compressing her lips in remembrance. “I almost had a heart attack when he walked through the front door. I think Shawn did, too. Kimmie and Kayla were speechless, and Bo…” She sighed a little sadly, “…Bo seemed *angry* really. I think he *did* believe that Roman was really Roman at that point – but he didn’t *want* him to be. He and John had a much *friendlier* brotherly relationship.” Marlena gave her a wan smile. “Really? When did *that* happen?”
Caroline stared off into space, brow furrowed. “I don’t know…It was a gradual process, I suppose. I don’t think *Bo* really changed that much…but the way John reacted to him was different. He seemed to understand Bo better than Roman did.” The plaque on the wall caught her eye and she grimaced slightly. “That was one of the things Roman found especially frustrating after he came back.” “What was?”
Caroline turned and regarded her steadily. “The way we all felt about John…the fact that – regardless of his bloodline or his name – we all loved him very much. Roman couldn’t…or wouldn’t…understand that. He felt like John had simply replaced him within the family, and, therefore, since *he* had come back to us, then John should no longer have a place…”

“And we should just dump him like yesterday’s garbage?” Caroline winced at the bitter sarcasm in Marlena’s voice. “Not that, exactly, but I don’t think he understood that our feelings for John could – and *did*

– exist outside of our thinking that he was our son…or brother…”- she took a deep breath -“or husband…”
Marlena couldn’t meet Caroline’s gaze. She closed her eyes to avoid having to look at Roman’s mother and gripped the end of the countertop so hard that her knuckles turned white. “I don’t understand, Caroline,” she said softly. “I don’t understand *any* of the decisions I made five years ago. I don’t understand why I’ve done the things I’ve done…I don’t understand *me* anymore.” She opened her eyes and looked beseechingly at Caroline. “Please tell me *why*…”
Caroline waited a moment, but Marlena didn’t say anything more. “Why you had the affair with John?” she ventured tentatively.
Marlena shook her head, a rueful expression crossing her face. “I *know* why *that* happened.” Caroline raised an eyebrow, but Marlena stared fixedly down at her hands. “I *love* him, Caroline,” she vowed softly. “It doesn’t have anything to do with thinking he’s Roman Brady. I loved him *before* I thought that. I loved him when I thought he was *Stefano*, for God’s sake. What I don’t understand is why I *ever* believed that I could shut those feelings off and pretend nothing ever happened, that we were never married! How could I do that, Caroline? How?”
Caroline sighed. “I think you felt you didn’t have a choice. Roman loved you, dear, and it wasn’t his fault that he had been gone so long. I think we all wanted to believe that it was possible somehow to go back to the way things were all those years ago. To pretend that none of us *had* changed. Especially Roman…”
“What do you mean?” Marlena asked, sitting down at the table. Caroline sank into the seat across from hers. She was silent for a moment, gathering her thoughts as she absent- mindedly twisted the wedding ring on the fourth finger of her left hand. “Do you remember the night everyone found out about Bo being Victor’s son?”
Marlena blinked, surprised by the change in topic. “Yes, of course I do. It was the night of Bo and Hope’s anniversary party. Right after John and I got back from West Virginia…” “Right after we thought we’d gotten Roman back…”

Marlena ducked her head. “Yes,” she said in a low voice, her guilt still very much in evidence. Caroline’s eyes were fixed on her ring. “Do you remember how John reacted to the news?” Marlena nodded. “He was very upset and very worried. He wanted to be there for the two of you, to help you deal with it, but he wasn’t sure how to do it. He still didn’t feel like a member of the family…”

Caroline smiled painfully. “I remember.” She took a deep breath. “I also remember thinking that his reaction clinched it for me.” Marlena frowned in confusion. “I don’t understand.”
Caroline looked up at her, her smile less strained, but her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “His concern for us – for the family. His desire to *fix* everything, to somehow come up with a solution that could make it right for everyone, even though that was impossible. *That* reaction convinced me he was my son more than any photograph or blood test ever could, because *that* was how the boy I raised felt about his family.”
Marlena nodded her agreement, a puzzled expression on her face. “I don’t understand why you’re talking about this *now*, though.” Caroline sighed and went back to twisting her ring. “Roman found out about Victor being Bo’s father a few weeks after he came back. He’d heard all about Victor from Bo, John, you…We weren’t really hiding it from him. It just wasn’t an issue, since Bo regarded Shawn as his father and he hated Victor so much…” her voice trailed off, and Marlena began to see where this was leading.
“What did Roman say when he found out?” The tears began to slide down Caroline’s cheeks. “He said I’d betrayed the family…and he wasn’t sure if he could ever forgive me for that.”
Marlena reached across the table and gripped her hand in sympathy. “He had no right to say that to you,” she said with low vehemence. Caroline shook her head. “No, he had the right, and, anyway, he *did* eventually forgive me.” She didn’t sound at all certain of it. “But the fact that he *did* say it…well, it made me see that those seven years in prison had changed him in a lot of ways.” She sighed. “Not that we shouldn’t have expected it to, I guess. And not that we shouldn’t have seen what kinds of problems it would cause.”
Marlena withdrew her hand and picked up the saltshaker from the center of the table. She began to roll it nervously between her palms,

a frisson of trepidation traveling up her spine. “What kind of problems did it cause?”

Caroline stared down at the red and white tablecloth, her son’s face looming large in her mind’s eye. “He told me once about life in his prison,” she began in a pained, distant voice. “He told me how he used to replay every scene in his life, over and over, re-enacting the events in his mind in order to keep from going mad.” She looked up at Marlena. “The drugs they gave him in the beginning – the ones they used to get the memories they implanted within John, though Roman had no idea at the time why they were doing it – he said those drugs allowed him to remember a lot of details about his life that would have otherwise been forgotten. He said those memories were all that kept him sane those first few years.” She took a deep breath. “But after a while, memories weren’t enough anymore. So he started to weave new ones, based on his dreams and expectations of the life the two of you had together. Dreams about Carrie’s first date, or teaching Sami and Eric to ride a two-wheeler, or…I don’t know, anything and everything…”

Marlena gave her a *psychiatrist-nod*. “That’s a common way of dealing with traumatic separation.” Caroline bit her lip. “But it made it even more difficult when he came back and found that no one else had experienced that trauma – because no one knew he was gone.” Marlena flinched and closed her eyes. “I can see how that would have hurt him.”
“It did. And he dealt with it by *not* dealing with it. By trying to force his life to conform to the pictures he’d drawn in his mind while Stefano held him captive. And we…we let him do that. All of us. Even you…” She silently watched Marlena for long moments until the other woman finally opened her eyes and met her gaze. Then she added, “And then, there was Isabella…” Marlena winced and looked away. “Yes…” Caroline regarded her with compassion. “It must have been difficult for you to hear about her.”
Marlena sighed as she idly traced the red and white checked squares of the tablecloth with her index finger. “Objectively,” she began, in what Caroline privately termed her *psychiatrist- voice*, “I can understand John falling in love with someone else. And if I had really *been* dead, it would have been what I wanted for him.” She picked

up the saltshaker again and rolled it back and forth between her palms. “I think that I can even be happy that he had someone to love – to love *him* – while I was gone. I never wanted him to be alone and unhappy. And the children…they needed a maternal figure.” She smiled wryly up at Caroline. “In addition to you and all of their aunts, I mean.”

Caroline nodded. “They loved Isabella very much.” Marlena took a deep breath and forced herself to ask, “John did too, didn’t he?” Caroline nodded again. Marlena looked back down at the shaker in her hands. “I don’t know why I asked you that. I know he did. I could tell from the way he talked about her. Did she…did she make him happy?”
Caroline wondered fleetingly if talking about this was really a good idea, but she couldn’t see any way to avoid it. “Yes, she did. And she gave him someone to hold onto during one of the worst periods of his life.” Marlena shut her eyes and nodded. “When he lost *everything*. When we *took* it from him.”
Caroline sucked in her breath as she finally realized the extent of Marlena’s guilt and self-recrimination. “He didn’t see it that way, Marlena. He never blamed you…or even *Roman*, not really. It was *his* decision to walk away from Roman’s life – to give you up…to give the children up-”
Marlena’s eyes flashed. “And his *job*? And his *home*? My God, Caroline, he probably made more payments on that house than *Roman* or I ever did. And just because he wasn’t *Captain Roman Brady* that doesn’t mean he wasn’t a wonderful police officer. And even if he didn’t carry a drop of Brady blood in his veins, that doesn’t mean that he wasn’t the father of those children. Fatherhood is *not* biology, it’s *being* there. It’s being there when they’re sick, and scared, and happy, and sad…” She pressed the heels of her palms to her eyes and shook her head tiredly, suddenly enervated from her angry outburst. Caroline had to lean forward to catch her muffled final sentence, delivered in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper. “He *was* their father…and *my* husband…”
Caroline waited until Marlena finally looked up at her again before she nodded. “Yes, dear, he was.” She laid a hand on her arm. “But so was Roman…and you did *choose* him, in the end. Do you really find that

so hard to understand?”

Marlena pressed her lips together, eyes far away, deep in thought. “I don’t know…maybe…” She closed her eyes and laughed with painful irony. “It’s odd that I seem to be facing the exact same situation again five years later, isn’t it? Coming *back-from-the-dead* to find out everything’s changed…” Caroline raised her eyebrows. “Well, it isn’t exactly the same, is it? Roman isn’t here this time.”
Marlena nodded slightly in agreement. “I know. And that does make a difference. I mean, I *believe* what everyone is telling me – in my *head*, at least. But I don’t suppose it feels real in my heart.” She snuck a sideways look toward Caroline as if debating how much she should reveal. “I still *feel* the way I did before I found that photo album,” she offered finally.
“You still love John,” Caroline stated in a quiet voice. Marlena nodded.
Caroline managed a small smile. “Then I guess the situation isn’t
really that different after all.”
***
“Sami.”
That was all he said. Nothing more. But those two syllables were enough to chill Samantha to her bones. She paused on the stairs, one foot still in the air, poised mid-flight. Where are you going to run to, anyway, little girl? she thought. She listened for a moment, but Will’s hungry cries had ceased. Taking a deep breath, she turned and stepped into the living room. “Good morning, John.” The phrase sounded trite and hollow, and was so patently untrue that she had to squelch a sudden urge to giggle hysterically.
John didn’t seem to find it funny at all. “No, it isn’t,” he said simply, and turned his back to her again. Sami eyed the back of his head, wondering anxiously what he was thinking. She couldn’t divine anything at all from his tone. Slowly she walked over to the couch, eyes glued to his profile as she rounded the arm. His eyes were shut – as if he were listening to the words of some private inner voice. He opened them as she sank tentatively down onto the cushion next to his, and he turned to look at her, his expression grave.
“I didn’t realize that you had come back last night.” She couldn’t tell if he regarded her return as a good thing or not. Or if he simply didn’t care *what* she did anymore.

Sami cleared her throat cautiously. “Actually…I never left.” He remained silent, so she continued, “I was outside – I came back in after Mom left to go to the Pub…You were upstairs putting Belle and Brady to bed. I didn’t want to disturb you.”

A small smile came to his lips and he closed his eyes again. “You didn’t want to face me,” he corrected. Then, silence. Sami rubbed her hands on her thighs, surprised at how nervous she felt. “You’re right,” she said finally. “I didn’t. I realized what you were probably thinking after I talked to Carrie and Austin.” She darted a look at him out of the corner of her eye. “They think I’m the one who left the photo album out.”
“Aren’t you?” Sami was surprised at how much two small words could hurt. Two words from a man she’d professed to care nothing about, except perhaps for a bit of residual hatred. She remembered this tone of voice very well – a tone she had done all she could to avoid hearing throughout her childhood. A tone that could cause more pain than all the yelling in the world.
She looked away to hide the tears suddenly welling in her eyes. “No, I’m not,” she said softly, not expecting him to believe her any more than Austin and Carrie had. She waited for a sarcastic rejoinder, but he simply sat there, eyes closed, unbearable sadness etched on his face. “John?” Nothing. “Say something, please.” “What do you want me to say?”
I want you to say that you believe me! she thought, with a longing that nearly staggered her. “I don’t know,” she said instead. “Something…” He sighed, leaned forward and cradled his head in his hands. “Does it really matter now, Sami? She knows. And now she has to deal with it.” Sami was silent for a moment. “I know that. But I think it *does* matter…I think I need to know. *Do* you believe me?” He finally turned to look at her. His gaze held no condemnation…but no trust, either. “I don’t know,” he said, and she could see he was being totally honest. “If it makes any difference to you, I *want* to believe you. I just don’t know if I can.”
She lowered her eyes and nodded sadly. “It makes a difference.” The words were unaccustomed, but she managed to say them anyway – “Thank you.”
Another long silence stretched between them, this one a little more

companionable than before. Sami reached over to the coffee table and picked up a discarded napkin. She spread it out on the table and rubbed it flat as if to remove the wrinkles – a jaunty HAPPY ANNIVERSARY marched across the paper. John winced upon seeing it.

“What did you tell her?” Her question jarred in the thickening silence. His eyebrow quirked. “I didn’t tell her about Austin, if that’s what you’re asking.” She flushed a little. “It wasn’t,” she insisted. “I guess you had to tell her about Daddy because of the pictures. But what about…oh, I don’t know…what about Belle? And Stefano? And the *devil*?”
He leaned back against the cushions and sighed. “Yes, I told her about your father.” Her gaze was piercing, but he managed to meet it. “*Everything* about your father – including the affair, Belle, the divorce
– everything. She knows Stefano is alive but not about the last kidnapping. And I didn’t even *mention* the exorcism. I don’t think she’ll be ready for *that* for a long while.”
Sami nodded her agreement. She looked down at her hands, which were shredding the paper napkin with absent-minded efficiency. She squeezed the remnants into a ball. “What about Kristen?” she asked diffidently, looking back up at him just in time to see an indescribably uncomfortable expression cross his face. It’s almost as if the idea hadn’t even *occurred* to him. Part of her found that conclusion deliciously amusing. Boy, wouldn’t hearing *that* drive Kristen nuts!
John was silent for a moment, slowly digesting the ramifications of the stunning realization that he hadn’t thought about his fiancee even *once* during the interminably long previous night. What does *that* say about your relationship, John? Impatiently he pushed that thought aside. “I didn’t say anything about Kristen. Your mother had had all that she could take for one evening, Sami.”
“I understand,” she said. “I won’t say anything, I promise.” She was aware of how hollow her pledge would seem to him if he genuinely believed that she was the one who’d blown their charade out of the water. When he turned to look at her, the acceptance in his eyes made her want to cry with relief…and something that felt suspiciously like gratitude…or love.
“I’d appreciate that,” he said softly. “That’s one thing that really has to come from me.” He watched her for a moment, then sighed, stood up

and turned toward the stairs. “Where are you going?”

He rubbed his hand through his hair tiredly. “I’m going to get the kids up, and dressed, and fed.” She nodded and rose to join him, but his next words stopped her in her tracks. “And then I’m going to pack.” Chapter 21
Sami sat on the couch in the living room, Will comfortably ensconced on her lap, a bowl of baby food in one hand and a spoon in the other. She waved the spoon, piled high with strained carrots, in front of her son’s face, trying in vain to interest him in what she had to admit was very unappealing-looking glop. She eyed it warily, wondering if eating a spoonful of it herself would inspire Will to imitate her action. Abruptly she decided against it, sincerely doubting in her ability to choke down even one bite. Whether that was due to the unappetizing orange goo or the lump that had taken up permanent residence in her throat, she wasn’t sure. He’s leaving, she thought miserably, angry and confused. Why does that upset me? I don’t even live here!
Her reverie was broken by a knock on the door. “Come in,” she called. “It’s open!” Probably not the brightest thing to do, but at the moment Sami didn’t care.
The door swung open to reveal Marlena, who eyed her daughter questioningly. Sami managed a weak smile in return. “Come on in, Mom. I was just giving Will his breakfast.” Marlena crossed the room swiftly and smiled down at Will, who was using Sami’s momentary distraction as an opportunity to bury both of his hands in the bowl of strained carrots. Sami noticed his game just as Will flung a double handful of baby food into her lap. “Oh, geez, Will. I know it doesn’t look that great but you didn’t have to do *that*!” She dabbed ineffectually at the gooey stain. Marlena stifled a laugh and reached for her grandson. “Here, let me give you a hand.” She deftly snagged a dishtowel from the pile on the table and wiped Will’s hands clean before settling him against her shoulder and sinking down on the couch next to Sami. “You never liked strained carrots much either,” she confided, chuckling.
Nothing about that statement should have caused a rush of tears to come to Sami’s eyes, but she found herself desperately blinking them back anyway. She turned her head away to hide her tears, but not before Marlena saw their suspicious sheen. “Sami?” she questioned

softly.

“I’m okay, Mom,” Sami returned in a muffled voice, then contradicted her statement with her next words. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”
Marlena patted Will’s back slowly, considering. “Perhaps it’s the fact that you’ve been under an enormous strain for the past few days, trying to hold this…charade together.” She shot a look back toward the staircase. “Did you talk to your-” She bit her lip, then continued, “…Did you talk to John?” Sami nodded. “He told me you found the photo album with the pictures of Daddy in it.”
Marlena winced imperceptibly at the word *Daddy*. “Yes, I found it in the bathroom upstairs.” Sami couldn’t hear any hint of accusation in her voice, but her defensive instincts caused her to respond anyway – “I didn’t do it. I didn’t put it there.” Marlena eyed her strangely. “Why would I think you had?” Sami ducked her head guiltily and returned her focus to removing the carrot stains from her dress. “Sami?” She shook her head and scrubbed harder. “Does this have something to do with your discovering John and I…discovering our affair?”
Sami stopped scrubbing and her shoulders slumped. Marlena reached over to take her daughter’s chin in hand and turn her head, forcing Sami to meet her mother’s gaze. They regarded each other silently for a moment. Marlena sighed deeply. “I’m sorry, Sami. John told me how much what we did hurt you, and I can’t tell you how much it grieves me, knowing the pain you went through. I never *ever* wanted to cause any of my children pain like that.”
Sami merely watched her for a moment, mildly puzzled that her usual sense of triumph over getting her mother to acknowledge her less-than-perfectness seemed to be absent. I don’t want to hurt her anymore, she realized, vaguely shocked. Sami wondered briefly if her newfound reluctance had anything to do with the fact that her mother didn’t actually *remember* the affair for which she was apologizing. Sighing, she decided it really didn’t make a difference. She hesitantly reached over to touch her mother’s free hand. “It’s okay, Mom. It doesn’t matter now.”
Marlena gripped her hand gratefully but shook her head. “I think it does, Sami. Especially if you’ve made some important life choices based on the pain we caused you.” She gently rested her cheek

against Will’s downy head. Sami was silent. Finally, Marlena ventured, “Did you decide to have Will so young because you wanted to rebuild your family?” She winced at the baldness of that statement, but Sami didn’t seem upset. She merely regarded her son thoughtfully and slowly shook her head.

Sami’s eyes met Marlena’s briefly before she looked back down at her lap. “There’s something I have to explain to you, Mom.” She took a deep breath. “Will wasn’t exactly…planned,” she said carefully. “Austin and I…we weren’t *trying* to have a baby.” She darted a quick glance at her mother, whose face held only compassion and understanding. How long will *that* last? “In fact, Austin and I weren’t…*together* when Will was conceived.” Marlena’s look of compassion changed to one of bafflement, but she remained silent. Sami could hear the ticking of the living room clock magnified loudly in her ears, each second passing as if it were an eternity. Finally, she could stand it no more. “Austin was in love with Carrie then. In fact, he still is. We aren’t actually married…”
Marlena’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t release Sami’s hand. “I think you’re going to have to explain that one to me,” she said in a mild tone.
Sami kept her eyes locked on her lap. “I fell in love with Austin the first time I met him, before I even knew that he was Carrie’s boyfriend. But they had a *lot* of problems in their relationship, and I could tell they weren’t right for each other at all…and I was so *angry* at Carrie for what she’d done. I wanted her to understand what it was like to feel that kind of pain…to come in second with *everybody*. I wanted someone to love *me* the way *everyone* loves her. I thought if I could just get Austin to…to make love to me, then he would understand how much better *I* was for him than *she* was. So…I drugged him, and he slept with me, thinking I was Carrie. And we made Will…” She couldn’t have looked up at her mother at that moment if there had been a gun held to her head. Marlena’s grip on her hand tightened convulsively. “What did Carrie do to you?” she asked softly.
Sami reached up with her free hand to scrub angrily at the tears streaking down her cheeks. “She convinced the whole *world* that I was a *liar*, and because of that Alan didn’t go to jail and he

*deserved* it for what he did to me – He deserved to *die* for what he did to me!” Her voice held both passionate anger and heartwrenching agony.

Her mother’s voice was hushed in contrast, though no less pain-filled. “What did…Alan…do to you?”
That quiet question was too much for Sami. The desperate sobs she’d managed to suppress until then finally broke free. She pulled her arm away from Marlena and buried her face in her hands, shoulders shaking with years of pent up anguish. Marlena gently laid Will in the corner of the couch and reached over to envelop her daughter in a bonecrushing hug. Sami’s response was to cry even harder. “Oh, baby,” Marlena murmured, tears streaming from her own eyes. “Oh, my little girl.”
In a voice that sounded remarkably like the one Marlena remembered from her nine-year-old daughter, Sami sobbed, “He raped me, Momma. He raped me.”
Oh, *God*, Marlena thought. Not my baby! Not *my* baby! Her arms tightened reflexively around her daughter, who responded by burying her face in Marlena’s chest and wrapping her arms around her mother’s waist. Marlena rocked them both slowly back and forth as years of suppressed tears came rushing out in one long torrent.
Long minutes later Sami’s wrenching sobs finally subsided to intermittent sniffles and hiccups. She tried to pull away, but Marlena wouldn’t let her go. Sighing, Sami allowed herself to sink into her mother’s embrace. “I’m sorry, Mom,” she murmured.
Marlena kissed the top of her head. “Don’t you *ever* apologize to me for how you feel. *I’m* the one who’s sorry. You shouldn’t have to relive all this pain just because I can’t remember what happened.” Sami closed her eyes. “It’s not like it ever really went away,” she said, voice muffled by the fabric of Marlena’s blouse. “Actually, it feels good to talk about it with you.”
John paused at the bottom of the stairs, riveted by the scene in front of him. Sami in Marlena’s arms. He hadn’t known how much he wanted – needed – to see that again.
Will chose that moment to break in with a spate of baby- babble. Both Sami and Marlena began to laugh soggily. Sami reluctantly let go of Marlena to reach for her son. He chortled happily and grabbed her

long golden hair with one tiny fist as Sami cradled him against her chest. She looked over to her mother and smiled, the first genuine, reservation-free smile she’d managed since Marlena had returned from the hospital. “I’ve got to take him over to Austin’s. It’s Will’s day with his father.”

Marlena caressed her cheek. “All right, sweetie. Will you…will you come back soon?” Sami smiled self-consciously, intending to reply in the affirmative, but she caught sight of John out of the corner of her eye. She leaned over and kissed her mom on the cheek instead. “I’ll come back tomorrow, Mom.” She stood up, nodded toward John, and reached down for Will’s bag of baby regalia. “See you both later,” she said as she slung the strap over her shoulder. She tossed one final smile toward her mother as she softly shut the front door.
Marlena stared at the closed door for a few moments, her expression suffused with the pain caused by Sami’s revelations. Finally, she turned her gaze toward John, who was regarding her with tender compassion. “I guess she told you, huh?” he asked as he walked across the room to join her on the couch. Marlena nodded mutely, her back held ramrod straight and her hands clenched firmly in her lap. “Must’ve been hard for you to hear,” he ventured.
She nodded again, lips pressed tightly together, shoulders rigid. He sighed and drew her gently into his arms. She stiffened for a moment, then allowed herself to sink into the comfort of his embrace. “I’m sorry, Doc,” he murmured. She nodded against his chest, her hand gripping his shirt tightly. They held each other that way for long minutes.
Finally she pushed herself up against his chest to look him in the eye. “Why didn’t you tell me about Sami last night?” Her tone wasn’t accusing, but he could see the hurt in her eyes. “I thought you had enough to deal with, Doc.”
Marlena gently extricated herself from his embrace, stood, and walked over toward the window. “You were probably right,” she admitted in a quiet voice. “I cannot believe everything that my little girl has been through in the last few years.” She whirled back toward him. “And *why* do I get the feeling that’s the *first time* we’ve talked about any of it since it happened?”
He shook his head tiredly. “It’s not the first time you’ve talked about it, Doc. But as far as I know, it’s the first time she’s ever let you comfort

her about it.”

Marlena winced and shut her eyes. “So she did hate me for our affair.” John sighed. “I don’t think it was really *hate*, Doc. But she *was* angry…”
She crossed her arms defensively, eyes full of pain and guilt. “And she ruined her life over it…and Carrie’s too, it seems.” He leapt from the couch and crossed over to her in two strides. He gripped her upper arms and swore in a harsh, vehement voice, “No, Doc. I won’t listen to you blame yourself like this.”
His touch caused a shiver to run up her spine. She laughed, a sound tinged lightly with bitterness and irony. “Oh, I don’t blame *myself*. I blame *her*.”
John dropped his arms, frowning in confusion. Sami? he thought. No, that doesn’t make any sense. “I don’t understand, Doc.” She smiled up at him, eyes shooting angry sparks. “Don’t you? I blame *her* for the mess my life has become – the *other* Marlena, the one whose choices I simply *cannot* understand, the one whose dreams and desires made absolutely *no* sense.”
He shook his head. “No, Doc. You can’t blame her-” He cut himself off, abruptly realizing how ridiculous he sounded. He reached for her hand and captured it against his chest, waiting patiently until her eyes met his again. “You always tried to do what was best for *everyone*, Marlena. You just didn’t want to anyone to get hurt.”
She shook her head, her mouth set in a bitter line. “So instead I hurt *everyone*. Sami, Carrie, Eric, Roman…” She looked up at him, eyes brimming. “You…” She reached up to cup his cheek in her hand. “I can’t believe how much I hurt *you*…”
John blinked and looked away. “You didn’t mean to, Doc. I knew that.” “That’s *not* good enough!” she cried angrily. “It’s not *enough* that I didn’t *mean* to do it. I *did* hurt you! Only I can’t understand *why*!” She swiped at her tears with her free hand. “Caroline tried to explain it to me, but I just…” Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes. “I don’t understand the choices I…the choices that *she* made. Not a single one,” she said softly. “Caroline says that I might understand it better if this situation were more similar to the one I faced five years ago…” She cocked her head to one side as if considering that idea, then shook it negatively. “But I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean?” John asked as he led her over to the couch. Marlena sighed as she sank into the cushions. “She pointed out that *Roman* isn’t here this time…and maybe if he were then I would understand better how I felt back then.” She grimaced slightly. “You see, I told her that this whole situation still felt totally unreal to me.” She eyed him for a moment, then said carefully, “I *believe* what you’re telling me about not being Roman, but it hasn’t made a difference in how I *feel* about you.”

John felt his breath catch in his throat, but he firmly squelched the hope alighting in his chest. “Well, Doc, you haven’t had a lot of time to deal with the news yet…”
She sighed, closed her eyes and leaned back against the cushions. “I know. And even if Roman *were* here, it still wouldn’t be exactly the same as it was five years ago, would it? At least this time you don’t have a pregnant fiancee waiting in the wings.” *That’s* not quite true, John thought, averting his gaze guiltily, but Marlena misinterpreted the expression on his face. “Oh, God, I’m sorry, John. I wasn’t being flip about it, I promise.”
He put his hand on her thigh to quiet her. “Shhh…I know that, Doc.” She nodded and covered her eyes with one forearm. “I was just thinking of what could possibly make this whole situation more complicated than it already is.”
John shuddered theatrically. “I really don’t think any more complications are required. Do you?” Her answering laughter was faint but genuine. “No, I guess not.” She sat up again and looked around the living room. “Speaking of complications…where are the children?”

John smiled. “Mrs. Naughton took them to their play group. Don’t worry – I told them you were at work this morning and that they could see you when you got home.”
Marlena nodded in agreement, then raised an eyebrow. “Mrs. Naughton?” He nodded. “She’s their nanny. I hired her after the nanny Isabella and I picked out for Brady had to quit. Belle used to have a nanny named Ivy, but she left a couple of years ago. They’ve been sharing Mrs. Naughton ever since. I think it works out better this way. I want my kids to grow up very close to one another.”
She was watching him closely, a puzzled expression on her face. “What is it, Doc?” She frowned. “It’s nothing really…except I remember

how we had to scrape to save the money to afford Mabel – and she wasn’t even full-time! How could we afford *two* nannies?”

He bit his lower lip, shrugged, and finally offered her an embarrassed smile. “Well…um…you see, it’s like this…” He searched for the proper words but couldn’t find them. Finally, he sighed and simply blurted out, “I’m rich, Doc.” Her brow furrowed. “What?”
John nodded. “I’m rich. When I found out who I really was, my new identity came with quite a hefty bank account.” He grimaced. “And that’s about all I can say for it.”
Marlena shook her head in confusion. “You know who you are?” He nodded. She looked nonplussed. “Then why are you still using the name John Black?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, a rueful smile coming to his lips. “Well, I didn’t much like the name I was born with – or the family I was born *into*. They aren’t very nice people, Doc. The Alamains. My aunt Vivian and my brother Lawrence…and me – *Forrest*.”
She bit her lip to repress a wayward grin and raised her eyebrows. “Forrest?” He chuckled. “Yes, I know, it’s a bit hard to picture, isn’t it?” She nodded and allowed her smile free reign. “I guess I found it a little hard to picture even before the brainwashing, because by the time I met Stefano, I was already going by the name John Black.”
She frowned again. “But I thought you said you got that name off of a war memorial plaque.” He shrugged. “I thought I had.”
She looked down, a faraway expression on her face. “So you always *were* John Black then…,” she mused thoughtfully. He nodded, then cleared his throat. “Yes…er…*Father* John Black, actually.”
“Father?” She looked up again, eyes widening in comic horror. “You don’t mean…”
“That’s exactly what I mean.” Marlena stifled a slightly hysterical laugh. “Stefano brainwashed a *priest* into believing he was my *husband*?!?”
John nodded. “I heard a something damaging about him in confession once. He wanted to make sure I never told anyone any of his dirty little secrets.”
She nodded mechanically in comprehension, eyes still wide with shock. “But that means…when we came back from West Virginia thinking we were married and we…” Her voice trailed off and her face

flushed bright red.

He choked back a laugh. “You know, Doc, I never thought about it in quite that way.” Marlena looked him up and down out of the corner of her eye, her eyes pausing imperceptibly at waist-level. When she’d finished her perusal and returned her gaze to his face, he quirked an inquiring eyebrow at her and grinned. She covered her face with her hands. “Oh, God, I am *so* embarrassed.”
He tugged at her hands, laughing. “Don’t be embarrassed, Doc. It’s actually kind of flattering that you couldn’t tell I’d been living my life under a vow of *celibacy*.”
She finally managed to meet his gaze with sparkling eyes, a blush still staining her cheeks. Whatever she saw in his face caused her to burst into peals of delighted laughter as she flopped back onto the couch cushions, breathless and gasping. “I had absolutely *no* idea! None whatsoever,” she vowed, raising her hand as if swearing in court. They grinned at each other companionably for a few moments, until both became uncomfortably aware of the heated electricity between them.
John cleared his throat nervously. “So, Doc, do you have any more questions?” She raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t *still* a priest, are you?” she asked archly.
He shook his head. “No, I’m not. I was released from my vows about a year after I found out about them.” He studied his hands pensively. “You know, Doc, it’s hard for me to believe how comfortable being a priest was for me sometimes.” He looked back up at her and smiled ruefully. “Not that I ever considered making it my life’s work again. I’d come to…appreciate too many things about life outside of the priesthood.” She grinned at him. “But the work a priest does…it has value, and purpose. There’s just something so fulfilling about a life like that.”
“Like the life you had when you were a police officer?” she guessed softly. He nodded slowly. “Maybe.” He sighed. “I suppose in a lot of ways I’ve simply been drifting ever since I gave up my badge. I mean, I have all of these businesses that I’m just not interested in overseeing and no real clear idea about what comes next.”
She regarded him quietly for a moment. “*All* these businesses?” she asked lightly. He nodded, embarrassment again tingeing the tips of his

ears with red. “Yep.” He held up a hand to tick off the list. “Let’s see now…one-half owner of Alamain Industries, a world- wide industrial conglomerate; CEO of Toscano, ditto; chairman of the Toscano Foundation, established for the distribution of charitable funds; board member of Titan Industries and Bella Magazine, in trust as Brady’s inheritance; co-director of the Horton Center, home for wayward teens…” He squinted as if in fierce concentration. “…Oh, yes, and member of the board of directors of University Hospital.”

Marlena’s eyes were wide. “I’m impressed, John…and you could still find the time to sit around and babysit *me* for a week?”
He reached up and squeezed her shoulder, eyes dark with unwavering conviction. She held her breath, realizing that somehow the joking tone of the conversation had suddenly evaporated. “*Nothing* is more important than you are, Doc,” he vowed in a low voice. “Nothing in this *world*.”
She laughed shakily, releasing her breath in one relieved whoosh. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.” He cocked an eyebrow at her questioningly. She looked back down at her lap. “I was thinking last night…that’s all I *did* last night – think, I mean…I was thinking about what the future holds…about what I want it to hold. And I came to some conclusions…”
“What conclusions, Doc?” he asked quietly. She kept her gaze averted. “I *know* how I want the future to unfold, John. But I kept coming back to the same question.” She slowly raised her eyes to his. “I kept coming back to the question of what *you* want. The question about whether or not *you* still love *me* the way *I* love *you*.”
John shut his eyes in mingled joy and anguish. “I *do* still love you, Doc,” he said softly. “I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you in that hospital room. I’ve never stopped…never been *able* to stop, even when I wanted to – to stop the pain of having to live without you. I’ve never been able to get you out of my heart.” He opened his eyes to see her regarding him with a tender smile on her face, all the love in the world shining from her eyes.
She scooted over until her legs touched his. “That’s good, then,” she breathed softly, reaching up to caress his face. “Because that’s how I feel about you.” She pulled his face down to meet hers, their lips meeting in a soft kiss that soon became a consuming inferno of

desire. She loves me, John thought, allowing himself a moment of warmth among the flames of their mutual passion. His hands tangled in her hair as he deepened the kiss, forgoing the necessity of oxygen to fulfill his raging need.

Long minutes later they parted, eyes still shining with desire. Marlena stood up and reached down for his hand, wordlessly conveying what she wanted them to do. Still lost in the spell of her nearness, he allowed her to draw him up from the couch. They were halfway to the stairs before cold reality brought him to his senses. He halted abruptly and she turned back toward him, eyes questioning. “We can’t do this, Doc.”
She smiled confusedly. “Of course we can.” She peered closely at him, alarm filling her eyes at the expression on his face. “You said you *loved* me, John. I don’t understand – I thought you wanted this.”
A small moan of anguish escaped his lips. “Oh, Doc, I do love
you…and I’ve *always* wanted you. I always will.” He took a deep
breath, feeling his heart break in his chest because of what he had to
tell her. “But you don’t love me anymore, Doc. That’s why we can’t
make love. Because *you* don’t want *me*.” He tugged his hand away
from hers and turned his back, unable to bear seeing the expression
on her face. She stood immobile, arm outstretched, staring at him in
open-mouthed shock.
Chapter 22
Kristen stalked back and forth in front of the fireplace and shot an impatient glance toward her brother as he slowly poured himself a glass of brandy from the decanter on the sideboard. “Come on, Peter,” she demanded when she could stand the suspense no longer, “What *exactly* did Caroline say?”
He took a sip of his drink and grimaced at the taste. “Not that much, Krissy, but, then, you can’t really expect that she would have. I am *your* brother after all.”
Kristen came to an abrupt halt, then flopped down heavily on the couch, shoulders slumping in defeat. “Which means that something is happening that Caroline knows I wouldn’t like hearing about. And the only thing *that* can mean is that our little bombshell didn’t succeed in breaking John and Marlena apart.”
Peter pursed his lips, considering that. “I don’t know, Krissy. Bo and

Hope were eating lunch a couple of tables away from me, and I *did* hear Caroline tell them that Marlena stayed at the Pub last night.” Kristen brightened. “Really?” she asked hopefully. He nodded, then held up his hand to stop any subsequent triumphant diatribes. “But she also said that Marlena went home this afternoon. And then *Sami* showed up, but all she said was that she thought Marlena was going to be all right and she was talking to John. She left right after telling them that – the family was kind of cold to her. I think they believe she was the one who left the album out.” He managed to ignore the pang of guilt that caused.

Kristen grinned maliciously. “Great. I never liked her, anyway.” Then her smile faded. “But John and Marlena talking this soon – that *can’t* be a good sign.”
Peter set his glass down on the table and stuffed his hands in his pockets, shrugging. “You know what kind of person Marlena is, Krissy. Did you really expect her to hold a grudge once she found out that they did all of it for her own good?”
Kristen leaned back and sighed wearily. “I guess not – not our *little Miss Perfect*. But I did think hearing that John wasn’t Roman might change her feelings about him.” Her lip twisted. “I was *hoping* she’d pick Roman again, like she did the last time.”
“Well, Roman isn’t here, is he?” Peter sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know what to tell you, Krissy, I really don’t.” He rested a compassionate hand on her shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just don’t think it was enough.” He looked at his watch. “And I have to go. I’m meeting Jennifer in half an hour.”
Kristen didn’t look up from her self-pitying reverie as he let himself out the front door. Dammit, Dammit, Dammit… The profane litany repeated in her head as the image of John and Marlena embracing in front of all their friends and family replayed ad infinitum. She shook her head hard to rid it of the offending visions. “No!” she muttered angrily. “I’m not giving up yet!” She patted her bulging stomach, drawing new resolve from the small life nestled there. “If the photos weren’t enough, then I’ll just have to try something else,” she soothed her unborn child. Groaning heavily, she braced her arms and managed to push herself up from the enveloping mound of cushions on the couch. She wandered toward the sideboard, eyeing the brandy

longingly. A discarded newspaper lying on the chessboard next to the

decanter caught her attention. She regarded the picture displayed on
the turned-down page, a delicious idea forming in her mind. It’s not
over yet, Marlena, she vowed silently, with a vicious smile. Not for
John and me, anyway… but it just might be over for you. She opened
the desk drawer and pulled out her address book. She had a phone
call to make.
***
John stood in the middle of the living room, shoulders stiff, his back to Marlena, the words that he’d just uttered playing over and over in his head like a broken record: You don’t love me, Doc…You don’t love me, Doc… He closed his eyes and bowed his head, the overwhelming agony of losing the love of his life *again* simply too much to bear.
Marlena watched him silently, an unhappy and confused expression on her face. What is he *talking* about? she wondered, bewildered. Of *course* I love him. The dejected slump of his forlorn figure told her that he did believe everything he’d just said, however. Well, he’s wrong! she thought, with rising determination. And I’ll prove it to him.
John started with surprise when her arms circled his waist from behind. Marlena pressed her body close to his, her cheek resting against his back; her nearness sent shivers of desire racing up and down his spine. “How can you say I don’t love you,” she asked softly, “when I’m standing right here behind you, loving you more than I ever thought was possible?”
He allowed himself a few delicious moments in her embrace before gently pulling her arms away and turning around to face her. He offered her a weak smile. “You don’t understand, Doc.” She looked up at him. “Then explain it to me, please. Because right now you aren’t making *any* sense.”
He sighed and waved her over toward the couch, not trusting himself to touch her without giving in to the raging passion only she could inspire…without allowing himself to fall into her tempting dreamworld for as long it lasted. She reached for his arm, but he dodged her touch and sat down gingerly on the edge of the couch. “I believe that *you* believe you love me right now, Doc,” he began in a tight, brittle voice. “And if that were enough, there is nothing I would rather do than make love to you right now – and for the rest of my life,” he admitted ruefully.

“But I can’t take advantage of you like that, no matter how much I might want to.”

Marlena quirked an ironic brow and leered laughingly at him. “Not even if that’s *exactly* what I want you to do?”
John choked on a startled chuckle, then shook his head, his smile fading. “No, Doc.” He sighed. “Right now you’re at a disadvantage, because you don’t remember the last ten years.” He clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. “But I do. I remember all of it. I remember everything the affair we had cost you – Roman, your children, your family… and I remember the agonizing pain you endured after Roman left, and how it left you open for…for even worse things.”
She frowned, puzzled. “What *worse things*?” He rubbed his temples wearily. “It doesn’t matter now, Doc. The point is, it was *my* fault that you ended up feeling so isolated and alone.”
Marlena reached over and rested a hand on his thigh. She could feel the tension in the knotted muscles beneath her palm. “Far be it from me to interrupt a really good case of the guilts,” she averred softly, “but you’re forgetting that it takes two to tango, John.”
He looked up at her, eyes bleak. “Maybe…but I knew how you felt about me, and I took advantage of it. We never would have made love if I hadn’t pushed you so hard.”
She held his gaze. “I wanted you, John,” she stated quietly, but with conviction. “I may not remember exactly *how* it happened, but I can be absolutely sure of that. Ever since I’ve *known* you I’ve wanted you. That hasn’t changed.”
He closed his eyes to avoid seeing the desire reflected in her face. “You wanted your *family*, Doc. And I took it all away from you…”
Her hand tightened on his leg. “You can’t tell me I blamed *you* for that.” He shook his head. “No, you never did. Not even when finding out Belle was *my* child put an end to any hope of reconciliation between you and Roman. You didn’t try to hide it or wish it away. You came to me and said, ‘She’s yours’ and smiled at me, even though I knew your heart was breaking. And even when the family offered you the option of blaming it all on me, you wouldn’t take it…”
“Because I knew that we *both* wanted what had happened.” He opened his eyes. “Yes, we did,” he finally agreed. “*Then*…” She inched closer to him on the couch. “And *now*…” she said softly. “It’s

what we both want *now*…”

“No!” he whispered in an anguished voice, pushing up from the couch. “It’s what *I* want. But the Marlena who remembers everything I cost her – the *real* Marlena – *she* doesn’t want me anymore. She doesn’t *love* me anymore, not *that* way. Don’t you understand? I *know* that, because she knew how I felt months ago and she didn’t feel the same way.” He looked down into Marlena’s troubled eyes. “I can’t take advantage of the fact that you’ve forgotten everything I did to you. I *won’t*, no matter how much I want to!”
Marlena stood up, her eyes never leaving his, an angry flush beginning to color her cheeks. “Let me get this straight – what *I* want, how *I* feel, it makes no difference to you now? *My* feelings aren’t relevant?”
He tilted his head to the side and reached out to touch her cheek, stopping himself mere centimeters from her face. “Of course not, Doc. How you feel *does* matter, more than *anything*. But when you remember everything that has happened – and you *will* – you’ll understand why I had to do this.”
“What if I don’t *ever* remember?” she shot back angrily. “How long am I going to be on *emotional probation*? How long do I have to wait until *my* feelings are taken into consideration.”
He smiled sadly at her. “It hasn’t been that long, Doc. Mike and Laura think everything will come back to you soon, when you’re ready. And I hope it does,” he said in a strained voice. “I really do.”
“Well, I don’t,” she retorted, scowling and crossing her arms across her chest. “If it means we both end up miserable and alone, I hope I *never* remember.”
“Don’t say that, Doc,” he begged. “Think of all the things you’d be missing. Think about Belle…”
Marlena blinked back sudden tears and looked away. “Maybe it would be better if I never remembered Belle being born,” she said bitterly. “If it was a period of incredible pain for all of us…since her birth was a lie, and her *real* father wasn’t there to see it…”
A small smile of remembrance rose unbidden to his lips. “Actually, Doc, I *was* there.” She glanced up in surprise. “We were stranded in the Horton Cabin on Smith Island, and we had no way to get to a doctor. I actually delivered our little girl…”

The tears began to spill over. “And then you gave us away…”

“It wasn’t like that, Doc,” he said in a pleading voice. She swiped at her tears. “Well, I don’t *want* to know what it was like, John. Can you understand that? Don’t you see? All the memories I *do* have of our life together are happy ones. Even when everything was going to hell all around us, we both *knew* that we loved one another and that nothing on earth could stand in the way of that – nothing could change it or make it go away. I don’t *want* to remember a time when that wasn’t true!”
He reached for her. “Doc-” he began, then swore at the interrupting chiming of the doorbell. “Just a minute,” he said, walking over to the door. She nodded and turned her back to hide her tears from their visitor. John opened the door. “Laura,” he said blankly, in a not-quite-welcoming tone of voice. “What are you doing here?”
Dr. Horton looked pointedly into the living room until John reluctantly moved away from the doorway and let her enter. She headed straight for Marlena. “How are you doing, honey?”
Marlena turned toward her and pinned a bright smile on her face, a smile that didn’t fool either one of them. “I’m fine, Laura.” Laura turned back to John and sent him a give us a minute, will you? look with her eyes. He sighed. “I’ll be upstairs, Doc.” Packing.
Marlena watched him as he disappeared up the stairs, sighed, and collapsed on the couch. Laura seated herself on the cushion next to her. “How are you doing, *really*?” she asked in a calm voice.
“How am I doing?” Marlena repeated as she gazed up at the ceiling. “I’m *frustrated*, Laura, that’s how I’m doing!” Laura patted her knee. “That’s understandable, Marlena. Wanting to remember something and being unable to do so is a very frustrating experience.”
Marlena cocked an eyebrow at her. “It isn’t *that*,” she replied impatiently. “It’s *John*. He has got to be the most stubborn, pig-headed man I have ever met in my *life*!”
Laura settled herself back on the couch. “What do you mean?” she asked, smiling a little at the expression of fond exasperation on Marlena’s face.
“He won’t make-” Marlena began, then cut herself off and waved her arm futilely. “He’s so damn *noble*,” she burst out finally. “He doesn’t want to ‘take advantage of me’,” she mimicked. “I can’t get him to take

me seriously. All he talks about is what the *real* Marlena wanted.” She shot Laura an angry look. “As if I’m a figment of his imagination or something.”

Laura considered that. “How exactly did he fear he would be ‘taking advantage’ of you?’ Marlena looked away, flushing slightly, and didn’t answer. “Oh,” Laura said, biting her lip to keep from smiling. This is a positive sign! Then she turned serious again. “Does this mean you two have dealt with the fact that he isn’t Roman Brady?”
“Dealt with it?” Marlena replied. “I suppose…there really wasn’t that much to deal *with*. I believe him, if that’s what you’re asking.” “Actually, I was asking more how you *feel* about knowing that he isn’t the man you thought he was.” Marlena sighed. “Caroline asked me the same thing this afternoon. And I’ll tell you *exactly* what I told her – it doesn’t make any difference at all in the way I feel about him. It doesn’t matter *what* his name is – John, Roman, *Forrest*” – she grinned – “Mickey Mouse…I love him, Laura. It’s as simple as that.” Laura let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. “I’m glad to hear it.” She eyed Marlena’s unhappy countenance. “So what’s the problem?”
“*He* is,” she replied, her tone carrying more than a hint of anger. “I don’t think he believes me…or he *does* believe me but he doesn’t think it matters.”
Laura shook her head in automatic disagreement. “I know that how you feel is very important to John. He’s very protective of you.” Marlena snorted softly in derision. “*Too* protective, if you ask me. And right now he’s trying to protect me from *myself* – at least that’s what he *says*.”
“What do you mean?” Marlena leaned forward and clasped her hands between her knees. “He says I don’t really love him, Laura. The *real* me, I mean – the one who remembers the last ten years. He says I knew he loved me before I was shot and I didn’t return those feelings. And he won’t take advantage of the fact that I don’t remember that now, no matter how much he might want to – or how much *I* want him to.”
Laura frowned, puzzled. “Now *that* doesn’t make any sense.” Marlena held up her hands. “See? What did I tell you? It’s so frustrating…” Laura shook her head and grabbed Marlena’s hand.

“That’s not what I mean, Marlena.” Marlena raised her eyebrows quizzically. Laura returned her gaze, excitement sparking in her eyes. “He’s *wrong*, Marlena. He’s wrong about how you felt before you lost your memory. You *told* me that you loved him, and that you wanted to be with him again.”

Marlena stared at her, hope slowly dawning across her face. “I *told* you that?” Laura nodded. “But why didn’t I tell *him*?” Marlena asked incredulously.
Oh, oh, dangerous ground. Laura bit her lip worriedly. “You…um…I think you were waiting for the right moment, Marlena.”
Marlena gave her a strange look, but overlooked that not- entirely-convincing explanation in the rush of her newfound excitement. “I *knew* it,” she whispered triumphantly. “I knew it!” She squeezed Laura’s hand. “Will you tell him that, Laura? Will you tell him that for me?” Her eyes were shining. Laura smiled at her. “Of course, I’ll tell him.”
“Tell him what?” John asked as he descended the stairs, dropping his suitcase with a thump when he reached the ground floor. Marlena’s gaze was riveted on it. “Why do you have a suitcase, John?” she asked, a note of panic in her voice.
He regarded her steadily. “I decided it would be better for all of us if I moved back to my loft.”
“*You* decided…” she replied in a faint voice. She took a deep breath and stood up from the couch, eyes flashing. “*You* decided!” she repeated angrily. “I am *sick* of you deciding everything, John! Don’t I have *anything* to say about this?”
“I heard what you had to say, Doc,” he replied in a quiet voice, his face bleak. “But I can’t do what you want. I’m sorry.”
Marlena softened a little at his obvious sincerity. “You don’t have to be sorry, John.” She squeezed Laura’s hand and smiled at her. “Tell him.” John looked from Marlena to Laura and back again, frowning in puzzlement. “Tell me what?”
“John,” Laura said carefully. “Marlena’s told me of your…objections to the…to doing what she wants.” He planted his hands on the back of the couch and eyed her warily. “What she *thinks* she wants.” Indignant, Marlena started to interrupt, but Laura held up her hand to silence her.

“I’m curious about something, John. I don’t understand why you’re so sure you know how Marlena was feeling before she was ki-…um, before she was shot.” He darted a nervous glance toward Marlena. “I found out a few days ago that she had proof of my feelings for her in her possession, and she never said anything about it to me. Obviously because she didn’t return my feelings.” Marlena gave him a quelling frown.

“What *proof*, John?” Laura asked insistently. He looked back down at the couch. “It was a letter I wrote her when I was in Aremid, right before…well, when I wasn’t sure when I’d see her again. I wasn’t aware that she had even seen it until Sami found it in her things when she and Carrie were packing for the move. Obviously she received the letter and decided it would be better for everyone not to bring it up. I’m sure she just didn’t want to hurt me by telling me how she really felt.” He bowed his head.
“The love we shared was something special, Doc…” Laura recited in a dreamy voice. John’s head snapped up, an incredulous look on his face as she continued, “There never was and never could be-”
“…anyone to fill the special place you hold in my heart…” John finished. He turned to Marlena, who was watching him with shining eyes. “I love you,” he said softly. “I know now I always have…and I always will…” The sound of the ticking clock filled the stunned silence in the room after his voice faded. John stared into Marlena’s eyes, transfixed by the overwhelming love he saw radiating from within them. Long moments passed; then, Laura coughed lightly, and the spell was broken.
John turned to Laura. “How did *you* know what I wrote in that letter?” She smiled at him warmly. “Marlena showed me the letter the day she found it. I remember thinking it was one of the most beautiful declarations of love I’d ever heard.” She reached over to clasp his hand. “And she *told* me that day that she loved you, too, and she wanted to be with you just as much as you wanted to be with her.”
John absorbed that silently, hope and fear playing across his features. “She really said that?” he managed finally, his voice a mere whisper. “Yes, I did,” Marlena interjected emphatically. “I’m *sure* I did, because I’m sure that’s how I felt. How I’ve *always* felt.” She reached for his other hand and brought it up to her heart, tears of happiness

coursing down her cheeks. “I love you, John Black. You believe me now, don’t you?”

“I-” Once again, the chiming of the doorbell interrupted them. “I’ll get it,” Laura said quickly. “You two stay right there.” When she reached the door she glanced back at them and was amused to see that they really hadn’t moved a muscle, so lost were they in each other’s eyes.
“Momma!” Brady yelled when Laura finally opened the door. He let go of Mrs. Naughton’s hand and raced across the room to land against Marlena’s leg with a thump. “When did you get here, Momma?”
Marlena managed to wrench her gaze from John and looked down at the little boy, who grinned up at them happily. She bent to pick him up. “Oof, you’re getting heavy…I just got here a little while ago. Daddy said you and your sister were at your play group. Did you have a good time?”
He nodded, squirming, and drew a folded square of paper out of his front pocket. “I made something for you, Momma.” “Did you? Well, let’s look at it, shall we?” He nodded eagerly as she sat down on the couch and settled him in her lap. John took Belle from a smiling Mrs. Naughton and plopped down on the cushion next to them. Brady laboriously unfolded his masterpiece, a large piece of butcher paper covered with fingerpaint. “It’s our family, see?”
“I do see. It’s very beautiful, Brady. Tell me, who’re they?” she asked, pointing to five large stick figures with cascading purple and orange hair in the upper left-hand corner.
“That’s my granpas and grammas. And that’s Uncle Bo and Aunt Hope and cousin Shawn D. Aunt Kimmie and Aunt Kayla and Andrew and Jeannie and Stefanie are over here ’cause they live in Los Ango-…Los Anga-”
“Los Angeles, slugger,” injected John, smiling. Brady beamed up at him and twisted his neck around to ask Marlena, “Do you know where that is, Momma? It’s really far away.” “I sure do…I’ve even been there. Tell me who else you’ve got here. Who are they?” she asked, pointed to two identical black haired figures framed by a big grey blob.
“That’s Uncle Frankie and Uncle Max. They’re in Africa. Is that farther away than Los Angels, Daddy?” “It’s a lot farther, slugger. It’s all the way across the ocean.” Brady nodded. “And it has elephants.” He pointed to the grey blob. “That’s the elephant.”

Marlena smiled. “Very impressive. And who’s that?” she asked, indicating a woman near the top dressed all in yellow. Brady was silent for a moment. “That’s my angel-Momma.” Marlena sucked in a breath. “Oh…”

Brady looked up at her, eyes solemn. “She said it was okay for Belle and me to share you. She said it was okay to have an angel-Momma and a Momma here, too. Right?” She smiled tearily and hugged him to her chest. “Absolutely.” She reluctantly lessened her hold when he began to squirm. “You’ve still got a few more people in this picture.” He grinned. “I had the most people of the whole class!” John ruffled his hair. “That’s great, son.”
Brady pointed to the three figures near the center of the page, one holding a bundle in her arms. “That’s Carrie and Sami and Will and Eric.” He frowned. “I didn’t know what color his hair was. Is that right?” Marlena glanced at John, puzzled. He avoided her gaze. “That’s just right, slugger.” Brady smiled. “And that’s you, Daddy, next to Momma and me and Belle. And that place is for the new baby.”
Marlena coughed, startled. “*What* new baby?” “Um, we can talk about that later, Doc. Right now,” he said, catching Belle mid-yawn, “I think these two munchkins are about ready for their naps.” Brady made a minor protest, but John grinned at him and ignored it.
“I can take them up,” offered Mrs. Naughton. Marlena stood up, still holding Brady. “I’ll go with you.” She smiled at the older woman. “I guess I’ll have to get to know *you* all over again, too.” Mrs. Naughton accepted a sleepy Belle from John and smiled. “I’m all yours.”
Marlena reached out and touched John’s arm before turning to follow the nanny. “I’ll be right back,” she said softly. “I’ll be here.” He and Laura watched her disappear up the stairs. Laura turned and nearly laughed at his besotted expression. “I’ll just get out of your way, then.” “No, Laura, wait.” She turned and eyed him expectantly. He swallowed. “Were you telling the truth just now? *Did* Doc tell you she loved me before she was kidnapped?” Laura nodded.
“Why didn’t she tell *me*, then?” he asked in an anguished voice. Laura shot him an exasperated look. “Why do you *think*, John? She found the letter the day Kristen announced that she was *pregnant*! She was going to tell you, but then Dr. Bader walked in talking about how *delicate* the pregnancy was and how Kristen couldn’t have any

*stress*…” John closed his eyes. “Oh, *God*…”

Laura nodded. “So Marlena decided to wait to tell you how she felt, because she would never do anything to put your child at risk. She was going to tell you when she got back from San Francisco.”
He was nodding resignedly. “Only she never *got* there…” “Exactly.” She gave him a compassionate smile. “I realize that this puts you in an incredibly awkward position, John, but I thought you had a right to know.”
He reached out and took her arm. “*Thank you*,” he said, his gaze and his voice intense. “Thank you *so* much.” She grinned. “Glad to be of service.” They both looked up to see Marlena and the nanny descending the stairs. “All tucked in?” John asked.
“Yes,” Marlena replied, smiling at him. “I’ve given Mrs. Naughton the rest of the day off. After all,” she said impishly, “*We* aren’t going anywhere.”
Mrs. Naughton picked her coat up from the back of the couch. “Thank you, Dr. Evans.” Laura grabbed her coat as well and flashed a smile at the two of them before turning to the nanny. “I’ll see you out. Bye, you two!” she called gaily before the door slammed shut.
John and Marlena turned to look at one another. “Doc-” “John-“, they began at the exact same instant, then both started to laugh. Marlena walked over to him and fell into his arms. “Oh, I love you so…”
John kissed the top of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her hair. “I love you, too, Doc.” She tilted her head back to look up at him. “Oh, so *now* you believe me?” she said, laughing. “I always wanted to, you know,” he replied seriously.
“I know,” she said. They held each other quietly for a few moments. Then Marlena asked in a muffled voice, “Does this mean you’re going to stop pulling away when I kiss you?” John chuckled. “I think that’s what it means, Doc.” She looked up at him, eyes sparkling wickedly. “Prove it, Mister.”
“Gladly.” He leaned down and captured her lips with his, sighing with pleasure as her mouth opened to allow him to taste the sweetness within. He groaned as they fell backward on the couch in a tangle of arms and legs. “John,” she whispered feverishly as she began attacking the buttons on the front of his shirt, “I want you so much.” He nibbled on her ear as his hands found their way underneath her

sweatshirt. “Not half as much as I want you, Doc.”

She pulled the shirt down off of his shoulders and grinned. “Wanna bet?” she asked impishly, before bending down to cover his mouth with hers. “That depends,” he replied breathlessly when they finally came up for air long moments later, “on what the winner gets…” Marlena licked his lips lightly with her tongue, eliciting another low moan of desire. “Anything *she* wants…,” she whispered seductively, before turning her attention to the waiting expanse of exposed, hard-muscled chest. “I could go for that,” he muttered, so full of need for her that he no longer clearly remembered what they were talking about. “Oh, Doc, that feels so good…”
“Daddy?” came a piping voice from over by the stairs. “What’cha doin’?”
“Brady!” he exclaimed, bolting upright on the couch and clutching the halves of his shirt together. Marlena flushed and adjusted her sweatshirt to a more modest position. John grinned at her discomfort before turning to look at his son. “I thought you were asleep, slugger.”
The little boy rubbed his eyes. “Couldn’t.” He yawned. “Would you read me a story, Momma?” Marlena bit her lip, her face a mixture of desire, regret and parental affection. “Sure, Brady,” she sighed, smiling ruefully. “I’ll be right up, okay?” He nodded and turned back up the stairs, a dilapidated looking blanket trailing behind him.
She looked back at John who was still grinning at her. “Oh, get that smirk off your face,” she said, laughing. “You were just as embarrassed as I was.”
He nodded ruefully. “You’re right, Doc. But that’s a sight he’s just going to have to get used to, me kissing you.” Marlena’s breath caught, eyes kindling with desire. “Is it?”
John leaned over and kissed her quickly. “It is if *I* have anything to say about it.” She grinned and traced his lips with her index finger. “Tell me more.”
He stood up and pulled her off of the couch, swatting her backside playfully. “Later, Dr. Evans. You have someone waiting for you…” His expression turned serious. “And *I* have someone I need to see.”
“John!” Marlena began in protest, but he cut her off. “I won’t be long, Doc, I promise. But there’s something I have to do before we…continue this.” She regarded him dubiously. “We *will* continue it,

I promise,” he said, holding his hand up as if swearing an oath. “When I get back, we’ll talk, and then we’ll do…*whatever* you want.”

She regarded him silently for a moment, vaguely puzzled, then shook her head, dismissing whatever misgivings had come to mind. “That sounds promising,” she whispered, before wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him another long, slow kiss. “Hurry back.” “Definitely.”
***
Kristen slammed the front door of the Dimera mansion, strode into the
living room and threw her purse on the couch. She twirled gleefully
around the coffee table, unable to squelch the triumphant smile that
came to her face. “Yesssss!!!” she cried, pumping her arm in victory.
“I’ve got you now, *Doc*.” Her eyes glittered evilly. “After tonight, John
is *mine*!”
Chapter 23
Lonnie Parker pulled the folds of his dilapidated brown parka more closely around his shoulders and rearranged his back against the trunk of the tree on the edge of the front lawn of the Horton Center. He snuck a sideways look at the guard sitting in the car at the curb, just to make sure that the bastard still couldn’t see him. He looked down at his watch; the DiMera woman had ordered him to wait an hour before fulfilling his assignment, to give her time to get Black out of the house. But he just left, Lonnie thought in confusion, knowing that enough time had not passed since she’d left for it to be *her* doing. Think, man!
Lonnie knew he wasn’t the brightest guy in the world – toughness, loyalty, unswerving dedication to pissing off any and all authority figures – those were *his* redeeming characteristics. In fact, his unswerving loyalty had landed him in the Horton Center in the first place. He’d knifed two assholes from a rival gang who’d been stupid enough to mess with a couple of his brothers, and he’d ended up in this damn juvie prison, living with a bunch of wimps who’d done stupid, piddling stuff like breaking curfew and swiping cars for joyrides. In a way, he knew he was lucky – violent repeat offenders didn’t usually get fobbed off on halfway houses run by Grandma Walton. He knew he owed the DiMera lady for that one, since it had been she who’d convinced the judge he didn’t deserve to serve hard time. And if anyone knew the importance of payback, it was Lonnie Parker.

The hell with it, he thought, standing up, carefully avoiding stepping into the guard’s line of sight. I’ll just sneak through the backyards to the rear door and get it over with right now! He had no particular feelings about the job he’d been enjoined to do. His only concerns revolved around not getting caught – and the tantalizing possibility that this could possibly be an audition for membership in the greater DiMera criminal empire. He grinned. Wouldn’t that make those bastards jealous! He was about to slip around the side of the Center when he heard the unmistakable sounds of the arrival of another car. He turned back to see a young, beautiful blonde slam her car door and stride confidently up the Brady front walk, a plastic bag swinging from her left hand. Damn! he swore silently, before hunkering down to continue his vigil. Ah, hell, calm down, man…You’ve got plenty of time.

***
Kristen paced back and forth in front of the phone, her mind racing as she tried to formulate a plausible reason to demand John’s immediate presence at the mansion. I should have thought of a good reason *first*, she acknowledged ruefully. But the idea for Marlena’s dispatch had taken root so quickly that she hadn’t had time to think the plan through. Maybe the crib… she thought, staring at it where it stood half put-together in the corner of the room. But no…he wouldn’t come over just for that, not at this hour. Cramps? Or perhaps possible imminent miscarriage? she debated judiciously, before reluctantly discarding both ideas. While having the baby in jeopardy would put her high on the sympathy meter, John would insist on taking her to the hospital, and she wanted to speak to him *alone*. She looked down at her watch and swore. You’re running out of time, Kristen. Her reverie was interrupted by the doorbell’s chime.
“Just a minute!” With one last desperate glance toward the phone, she quickly crossed the foyer and opened the door. “John!” she exclaimed, mouth slightly open with shock. “What are you doing here?”
He had a pinched, uncomfortable look on his face. “Can I come in?” he asked, although he sounded as if he didn’t actually want to.
“Sure,” she nodded, stepping back to wave him inside. He gave her an uncomfortable smile and walked past her into the living room. A sly smile of satisfaction slowly bloomed on her face. Perfect! **

Marlena rearranged the vase of lilacs in the center of the table, then stood back to gauge their effect. Perfect! she thought happily, placing the silverware a little more carefully. Just perfect…I can’t wait!

The doorbell rang, interrupting her entertaining fantasies about the evening’s prospects. She smoothed the folds of the skirt of her flame-red dress as she crossed the living room over to the doorway. “Carrie!” she exclaimed happily when she opened the front door. “Thank you so much for coming!”
Carrie’s mouth made an ‘O’ of stunned admiration as she took in the shining strapless silk creation molded to Marlena’s form like a second skin. “Nice dress, Marlena,” she finally managed. “It’s so…”
“So…*not* me?” Marlena replied brightly. She chuckled. “I found it in my closet upstairs. I know it doesn’t look like something I’d normally wear – but I must’ve had a reason for buying it, right?” She grinned a bit mischievously. “And tonight is a *very* special occasion.”
Carrie raised her eyebrows in amusement as she entered the house. “Is it?” Marlena nodded happily. “I’m making dinner for John. And I think it’s even edible!”
Carrie laughed and plopped down on the couch, setting the plastic bag she carried on the coffee table. “That *is* a special occasion.” Marlena made a face as she sat down next to Carrie. “Very funny, sweetie. Did you bring what I asked for?”
Carrie poked her foot at the bag on the table. “The three *romantic* CDs you didn’t have, and some candles, as requested.” She looked over toward Marlena, questions in her eyes, but didn’t say any more.
“Carrie?” Marlena asked, frowning slightly in concern. “What is it, sweetheart?” Carrie looked away, nervously chewing a fingernail. “I heard…” she began softly, “I heard that John and Sami told you…well, pretty much everything. Is that right?”
Marlena nodded calmly. “Yes.” Carrie was silent. “You’re wondering what Sami told me about what she did to you and Austin, aren’t you?” Carrie nodded miserably. “She’s so good at *twisting* everything around, making it look like other people are responsible for the awful things she does.” She turned to look at Marlena. “It wasn’t Austin’s fault, Marlena. It wasn’t *mine*, either, no matter what Sami says.” Marlena watched her carefully for a moment. “I realize that,” she said finally in a quiet voice. “I think Sami does, too. But she’s in a lot of

pain, Carrie.”

“I’m tired of hearing about Sami’s *pain*, Marlena. She just uses it as a weapon to hurt everyone else. What about *my* pain? How do you think it feels to know that your own sister hates you enough to do all the horrible things that Sami has done to me?”
Marlena sighed. “I don’t really think it’s hate, Carrie. Sami’s just very confused and hurt right now.” Carrie shoved herself up off of the couch impatiently. “That doesn’t give her the right to ruin everybody’s lives,” she pointed out angrily. Marlena bowed her head. “I know that, Carrie.”
Carrie turned toward her, instantly contrite for having caused the defeated tone in her stepmother’s voice. “I’m sorry, Marlena. I shouldn’t have brought all of this up right now. I don’t want to ruin your evening.”
Marlena took a deep breath and smiled up at Carrie. “Thank you,” she said simply, gesturing toward the elaborate table- setting. “Actually, I really wasn’t sure how you’d feel about all of this.”
Carrie gave her a small smile. “How I’d feel about you and John together?” Marlena nodded solemnly. Carrie took a deep breath. “I love Dad, Marlena,” she began, reaching out and resting her hand on Marlena’s shoulder. “I love you, too, though, as much as if you were my biological mother. *And* I love John. He *was* my father for such a long time…” She grimaced a little as she spoke her next words. “It seems pretty obvious that there’s no way for *all* of you to come out of this mess happy. Two out of three is the best we can hope for, I think. And as far as I’m concerned, Dad made his choice when he divorced you. I really want you and John to be happy.”
Marlena smiled softly. “I hope we will be,” she replied. Carrie grinned wickedly. “I think I can pretty much guarantee that seeing you in that dress will make *him* happy.” Marlena’s eyes glinted with amusement. Carrie glanced around the living room. “This place looks great, Marlena. But what about Brady and Belle?”
Marlena waved a hand toward the stairs. “They’re asleep.” Carrie raised an eyebrow. “And you think they’re going to stay that way long enough for you guys to have a romantic evening? Did *we*, ever?”
Marlena grinned ruefully. “Now that I think about it…” Carrie rubbed her hands together and grinned. “Why don’t you let Austin and me

babysit the kids. I’m sure they’d love to spend the night with their big sister. And that way,” she said as she winked suggestively, “you won’t be…disturbed…during anything important.”

Marlena blushed and started to laugh. “You’ve got a deal!”
***
“Can I get you anything, John?”
John looked up from where he’d been contemplating Stefano’s chessboard with an expression of unconscious loathing on his face. Why the hell does she keep this here? “No thanks, Kristen. This isn’t exactly a social call.”
A nervous flutter began deep in the pit of Kristen’s stomach. “It isn’t?” she asked, a tiny waver in her voice. John heard it and grimaced guiltily. This has gone on way too long, John. Why did you let it go this far?
“No, it isn’t,” he said softly, seating himself on the couch. He patted the cushion next to his. “Come sit down.” “Ohhhkay,” she said slowly, gingerly settling on the cushion. “What’s going on, John?” He looked down at his tightly clenched fists and didn’t answer. “How’s Marlena?” Kristen asked finally.
John took a deep breath. “She’s fine. I’ve told her…*almost* everything, and she’s dealing with it very well – much better than the doctors thought she would.” Kristen studied his expression carefully. “She knows that you aren’t Roman?”
He nodded, a small smile of reminiscence on his face. “She said it doesn’t matter to her,” he said softly. Damn! Kristen thought savagely, barely managing to mask her anger with a serene expression. “I’m glad she’s not upset,” she managed.
John averted his eyes guiltily. Not half as glad as *I* am, he thought before he could stop himself. He took a deep breath. “Kristen,” he said carefully, reaching out to take her hand, “There’s something I have to tell you.”
Oh no, Kristen thought. I have a very bad feeling about this… ***
Lonnie watched silently as the front door of the Brady house opened and the young woman emerged carrying a small dark-haired boy and a large canvas bag stuffed to the brim. She turned back toward the house and called out something through the open door. A beautiful

blonde in a revealing red dress appeared in the doorway, carrying a little girl – who looked remarkably like a miniature version of the woman holding her – fast asleep in her arms. Is that *her*? he wondered, whistling slightly in awe and grinning wolfishly. This could be very interesting!

The woman made her way to the car and strapped the children in their seats, softly kissing each of them in farewell. The younger woman paused, her hand on the open car door, and said something to the blonde that caused her to laugh as she hugged her goodbye. The girl lowered herself into the driver’s seat and slammed the door, waving as she backed out of the driveway. The blonde stood on the walkway and watched until the car passed from view, then turned and made her way back into the house. Lonnie could see the dazzling smile of anticipation on her face before she shut the door behind her. Not for long, lady, he thought. He spared one last glance for the bored guard at the curb before slipping around the corner of the Center. Showtime…
***
“I need to apologize to you, Kristen,” John began, his hands rubbing his thighs nervously.
Not an auspicious start, Kristen thought, her feeling of trepidation growing. “For what, John?” she managed to say lightly. He kept his eyes on his hands, unwilling to look up at her. “For a lot of things…for misleading you. For hurting you.”
Oh, God. “I don’t understand what you mean, John. You haven’t hurt me.” He shut his eyes and sighed. “But I’m going to…”
Kristen shot up from the couch and moved over toward the chessboard, picking up one of the pieces and nervously tossing it from hand to hand. She didn’t want to ask – but she knew she had to: “What are you talking about, John?”
“I’ve been lying to you, Kristen,” he replied softly. “To you, to Doc…and to myself. But mostly to you.”
Kristen squeezed the chess piece convulsively and gasped as the prongs on the King’s crown bit into her hand. She watched as a small drop of blood beaded on her palm. No, no, no, no… she thought helplessly, horribly aware of what was coming. But she couldn’t think of any way to stop it.

“What happened to Marlena has caused me to reevaluate some of the decisions I’ve made in the past few years,” John began carefully, darting a glance at Kristen before returning his gaze to his hands. “Her amnesia has forced me to look back…in a way that I’ve been avoiding doing for a very long time now.” He smiled wanly. “I have a lot of regrets, Kristen. Mostly about what happened after Marlena returned in 1991. And I’ve had to face them, because I’ve had to explain the choices we made to Marlena.” He sighed and ran his hands through his hair. “And explaining things to *her* has made them a little more clear in *my* mind.” He finally looked up and met her gaze. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes twice, Kristen.”

She swallowed. “You can’t relive the past, John. It can’t be 1986 *or* 1991 again, no matter how much Marlena…or you…would like it to be.” He nodded in agreement. “I know that, Kristen. And so does Doc. But we *can* keep from repeating our mistakes.”
Kristen turned back toward the chessboard, her heart pounding. “I don’t know what you mean, John.”
John took a deep breath, fully dreading the coming moments. “When Marlena first came back to me…,” he began finally, “…I found myself torn between my desire to resume our marriage, and my feelings for Isabella. I had a really hard time making any sort of decision, Kristen. So I put it off, by trying to find out what happened to her, by tracing her trail back to Stefano’s fortress on San Cristobal.” His stared straight forward, eyes faraway, lost in the past. “She went down there with me…and it felt just like it had when we were married – the two of us, together against the world…If we’d left there when she first wanted to, I think we would have come back to Salem and resumed our life together. But I wanted to make one last foray into the past…” He sighed. “And that’s when we found Roman…”
“And you realized that the two of you had never really been married in the first place,” Kristen interjected a little desperately.
John didn’t look up at her. “Marriage is more than legalities, Kristen,” he objected softly. “And our decision to…part…had much more to do with my identity crisis and Isabella’s pregnancy than any *legal* invalidation of our marriage.” He stood up and walked over to stand next to her, but still didn’t meet her eyes. He reached down and plucked the queen off of the chessboard, rubbing the base of it with

his thumb. “Finding out I wasn’t Roman did nothing to change our feelings for each other,” he stated quietly. “We thought that we could put them away, out of sight and out of mind…but it didn’t work.”

Kristen reached for his arm. “Isabella *died*, John. You just needed *someone* to help you get through it…”
John shook his head. “No, Kristen,” he disagreed softly. “I’d like to think that I never would have been unfaithful to Isabella…but I don’t kid myself that I loved her any more than Marlena loved Roman, or wanted to hurt her any less than Marlena wanted to hurt him. It was out of our control, Kristen, or as close to it as makes no difference. We shouldn’t have given in to our feelings – I *know* that. But we shouldn’t have tried to bury them like we did in the first place.” He met her eyes. “*That’s* the mistake I don’t want to repeat.”
She held her breath. This is *agony*! “What are you saying, John?” He looked back down at the chess piece in his hands. “Do you remember the night we first met?” he asked finally in a faraway voice.
She nodded, smiling slightly. “Of course I do. You rescued me from those thugs in the park and got yourself knifed in the process. You were so heroic…”
` He waved a hand in dismissal of her last comment. “And we went over to Roman and Marlena’s…That was right after she had ended our affair, and I still wanted her so much that I *ached* with it. I remember the electricity in her touch when she bandaged my arm…” He closed his eyes. “Not long after that I found out that she was possibly pregnant with my baby. I never wanted *anything* in my life more than I wanted that baby to be *my* child. Because that would give me a claim on Marlena…a reason to stay in her life, to be with her…” He shook his head slightly. “Do you remember the day you and Alice ran into Marlena and me eating lunch with Carrie and Rebecca at Johnny Angels? It was right after Mrs. Horton set us up to go out to the cabin.” She nodded mutely. “That was the day we were waiting for the results of the blood tests. And I was sitting there trying to make small talk with my whole *future* hanging in the balance…I think that was the longest meal of my life.”
“I never knew that,” she whispered softly. He smiled ruefully. “*Nobody* knew – except for Sami, obviously. We met in the church chapel after Marlena received the test results. I never admitted to her

that I’d been sitting there praying that the child would be mine…because I knew she’d been praying for the exact opposite result. We said goodbye that day…” His voice was thick with sad remembrance. “She asked that we meet as friends – and only friends – the next time we saw each other. I promised her that we would, though I knew I was lying. I knew that nothing would ever dim the feeling I had for her…and I was right.” He looked at Kristen, eyes bleak. “I told her that the only way for me to get past the pain was to find someone else – and she said that’s what she wanted for me.”

Kristen gripped his arm urgently. “And you *did*, John. You found me. We found each other! And we love each other!”
He reached for her hand, eyes glinting with suppressed emotion. “You saved me, Kristen. You gave me someone to hold onto when I was near the depths of my despair. I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you did.”
“I *wanted* to,” she said urgently. He nodded. “You helped me accept what had to be, Kristen. Even though you didn’t know it. And slowly I began to be able to see the two of them together without wanting to die of the pain. I could be happy that *she* was happy. That’s all I ever wanted…” His expression hardened. “But *Stefano* found out about our affair, and forced her to reveal everything at Belle’s baptism.”
“Not *everything*, John,” Kristen objected. “She didn’t say with whom she had the affair – you’re the one who volunteered *that* information.” He compressed his lips. “I couldn’t very well let *her* take all the blame, could I?”
“*Marlena* was the one who was married, John.”
He shot her a disgruntled look. “It didn’t make any difference, Kristen. What we did we did *together*, because *we* wanted to. We were *both* responsible.” He plunked the chess piece back down on the board, his face a mask of misery and regret. “She lost everything that day, though it took us a while to realize it. Her family rejected her, her friends lost respect for her…but she never blamed me for that.” He shut his eyes, smiling painfully. “Sometimes, when it all became too much to bear, I’d go over to the penthouse with Chinese food or a pizza, and we’d talk for hours, about anything and everything, because we were the only ones who *understood* what had happened, the only ones who could accept *us* without reservation. We helped each

other keep the darkness at bay.” He opened his eyes and glanced over toward Kristen. “*She* believed me when I said Stefano was alive, even though everyone else thought I was crazy. She even hypnotized me to help me remember the past when the mere *idea* of it worried her half out of her mind. And it *worked*.”

“It led you right into Stefano’s *trap*, John.” He shook his head. “I *beat* him, Kristen,” he said softly. “I *won*. I had him tied to a chair, a gun to his head. I could have ended *all* of it at that moment. Maybe I should have…” he mused pensively. “But then he revealed that he’d lured *her* to Maison Blanche using my voice, because he knew she’d do *anything* to help me. And I had to let him go.” He grimaced bleakly. “He forced us to play his little game, to wear formal clothing and be his *guests* at dinner. She watched me drink his damned drugged soup with tears running down her face, because she knew I was doing it under threat of her starvation. He made her call Roman and tell him we were together, and she did it in order to help me…” He suddenly brought his hand crashing down on the chessboard, causing the pieces to jump and scatter. “And then he forced her to play *chess* for my life!” he spat with barely restrained rage. “She let him *touch* her just to save *me*!”
“I remember you saying that before,” Kristen said softly, thinking back to that emotional day in the penthouse. John didn’t seem to hear her. He continued without pausing, “She kept me from giving in to despair, bolstered me when my confidence flagged. And whenever we lost hope we held each other and prayed for our deliverance.” His mouth twisted wryly. “And Roman came…I really thought they’d be able to work things out. I *wanted* them to, because I knew that’s what *she* wanted. But she couldn’t do what he wanted, so he left…”
“What did he want?” Kristen asked in a tiny voice. John turned to look at her. “He wanted her to get me out of her heart…and she told me she couldn’t do it.” He closed his eyes, pained. “I saw the agony she was in, and I felt horrible about it – but there was *nothing* I could do. *Nothing*!” He swore under his breath. “I thought if I gave her some space she could at least repair her relationship with Sami, but it didn’t work. And it meant I didn’t see how vulnerable she was…” He opened his eyes and looked down at her. “To your father…and to the devil.” “She’s free of them now, John. You both are. It’s time for you to get on

with your *lives*.”

John nodded. “I know that, Kristen. *We* know that.” He turned to pace toward the fireplace. “I haven’t told her about the exorcism, yet. Or about your father kidnapping her this last time.” He turned back to look at her. “Or about you…” She swallowed. “Why not?”
“Because…” he said softly, “before I can answer her questions about our future – *hers* and *mine* – I have to talk to you about *our* future…”
Her eyes burned with unshed tears. “What about it?” He grimaced. “This is where my apology comes in…because I’ve been lying to you – and to her – ever since I almost died in that gas chamber back in Aremid.” He laid a compassionate hand on her arm. “I realized something when I was waiting for them to drop that gas…” He smiled painfully. “I realized that it’s true what they say about your life passing before your eyes, because that’s what mine did – my life with my children…*all* of them…and my life with Doc. And in that moment, I realized that my feelings for her had never changed.”
Kristen bowed her head, her tears spilling over. He squeezed her arm. “I’m sorry, Kristen. I never meant to hurt you, or to lie to you. I thought I had gotten over my feelings for Doc – but I’d just managed to hide them better this time.”
Kristen shook her head angrily. “You never said *anything* about this, John. You made love to *me*! You promised to marry *me*! We’re having a *baby* together! How can you say you don’t love me anymore?”
His grip tightened, his eyes glinting with compassion. “I *do* care about you, Kristen. And I thought we could get back to what we had before…before I found out you believed I murdered Tony. I thought I could get past my feelings for Marlena.” He lowered his voice. “But I was wrong, Kristen. I should have told you.” He sighed. “And I should have told Doc.”
Kristen scrubbed at her tears angrily. “It wouldn’t have made a difference, John. She may think she loves you now, but she didn’t before Stefano took her. We both know that. And you can’t *possibly* be thinking of taking advantage of her amnesia to get her back.”
He let go of her arm and cleared his throat. “That’s not quite true, Kristen. Laura told us today that Doc *did* love me before Stefano

took her.”

Kristen gave disbelieving snort. “Laura?!?” John frowned at her. “Yes, *Laura*. And I believe her, Kristen. But that isn’t the point.”
“What *is* the point, then?” she shot back angrily. “It doesn’t matter *how* Doc feels about me, Kristen – not for the future of *our* relationship,” he returned calmly. “There’s always the possibility that she’ll reject me after I tell her about you. I’m willing to take that risk. I’m not saying that you and I can’t stay together because Doc is in love with me. I’m saying we can’t be together because I don’t love *you* the way you *deserve* to be loved – wholeheartedly, without any reservation. There’s a part of me that has always belonged to Marlena, no matter who else I’ve been with. And that means I’ve been lying all along – to Isabella, to you, to Doc, and to myself.” He shook his head sadly. “It’s time to stop lying,” he said softly. “Starting now…I’m so sorry, Kristen.”
Kristen shook her head angrily and crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I can’t believe you’re doing this to me.” She gazed down at her protruding belly. “To us…”
“I’ll always be here for you and the baby,” he vowed in a quiet, steady voice. “I’d never abandon my child or its mother. But I can’t make promises to you that I can’t keep, Kristen. And I won’t lie to you anymore.” He took a deep breath. “I love Marlena,” he admitted softly. “I want to be with her, to make a family with our children.”
Kristen turned her back to him and bit her lip, refusing to answer. He reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder. She flinched in response. “I’m sorry, Kristen,” he said quietly. “I understand your anger and your sadness. But I hope we can find a way to get past this, for our child’s sake.” She still didn’t reply. He dropped his hand. “I’ll call you.”
Kristen listened to the sound of his retreating footsteps and the subsequent slamming of the front door. She squeezed her eyes shut as waves of pain engulfed her. Finally she could stand the agony no more. “Noooooooo!” she screamed angrily, picking up the chessboard and flinging it across the room. It crashed into the glass doors leading into the garden, and they shattered in a shower of broken glass. “It’s *NOT* over!” she yelled into the cold night air. “It will *NEVER* be over!” She bent down to pick up a discarded chess piece, rocking

back and forth on her heels in helpless misery. “You’ll come back to

me, John,” she vowed in a high-pitched sing-song voice. “Marlena will
be gone and you’ll come back to me.” A wild, not-quite-sane smile
transformed her face into something quite hideous. “You just don’t
know it yet…”
***
John stood on the porch in front of the Brady house and took a deep breath, carefully smoothing his hair as he prepared to call on his *date*. He looked down at the bouquet of lilacs in his hand, smiling softly as he reached out to press the doorbell. He could hear the chime reverberate inside the room beyond the door. The moments passed, but no one answered. “Doc?” he called. No response.
Frowning, he took out his key and inserted it into the lock. He thrust the door open and peered quizzically into the darkness beyond. He fumbled anxiously for the light switch. The sight that greeted his eyes caused him to drop the flowers in shock. The living room was a shambles. “DOC!!!” he screamed, trying desperately not to remember a day long past when he’d come home to a wrecked, deserted house and found his wife gone. “Where are you? DOC!!!” There was no answer.
Chapter 24
John stood silent and frozen in the middle of the Brady living room, immobilized with shock. He stared at the mess of linen and glassware dumped on the floor next to the dining table, a scattered pile topped by one forlorn white candle, wax frozen mid-drip a few inches from the floor. Slowly his mind began to register the extent of the damage – the pillows from the couch strewn about the floor, the end-table lamp shattered on the carpet, and the pictures from the mantle crumpled on the bricks in front of the fireplace, their glass fronts shattered within broken frames. John shut his eyes, the blood draining from his face, his hands turning as cold as ice. Just like last time… his brain kept repeating over and over. Just like when the ISA took her… But he hadn’t known then that it was the ISA, and he’d nearly gone crazy imagining her in the hands of faceless, nameless madmen. But this time the madman had a name and a face. Stefano DiMera. He isn’t dead after all. You should have *known*, dammit! You should have *known*! A searingly painful new thought caused his breath to catch,

an anguished sob managing to force its way out through the lump in his throat. And the kids…Oh, GOD, no!! He took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. Keep it together, John. Gotta call the police… He was reaching for his celphone when a gasp from the doorway caused him to spin around, crouching defensively in a display of unconscious police instinct despite the fact that he was unarmed.

His eyes met Carrie’s. She wrenched her gaze from his to take in the devastation of the room, her face a mask of horror. “My God, John, what happened?”
John shook his head numbly and slowly rose, waving a helpless arm. “I don’t know, punkin. I just got here and I found it this way. There’s no sign of anyone. I’ve got to call the police.” Carrie nodded slowly, carefully picking her way toward the couch and settling herself gingerly on the edge of the cushion. Her eyes were wide with fear as she stared down at the lonely white candle. “I was just here,” she whispered, rocking slowly back and forth. “I brought her the candles…” John finished dialing and held the phone to his ear, then swore angrily as he realized it wasn’t working. “What are you talking about?” he asked, stabbing viciously at the ON switch with his index finger.
Carrie shook her head abruptly as if to bring herself into the present. “She asked me to bring her some stuff for your romantic evening. She was so excited…” Carrie looked up at him, smiling a little wildly, her face alarmingly pale. “She had on the most amazing dress, and her eyes were sparkling the way they do when she has a secret…you know?” He nodded, swallowing with difficulty. “I told her to let Austin and me take the kids for the evening so you two wouldn’t be interrupted, and she laughed and said yes…” The crushing weight in John’s chest lightened just a little. “You have the kids?”
Carrie nodded. “They’re at Austin’s. But I forgot Belle’s Big Bunny, and I know she can’t sleep without it, so I came back to get it…” Her eyes were dilated with shock, and her expression was pleading as she turned to him. “Where is she, John?” she asked in a hopeless voice, not really expecting an answer. John was spared having to reply when the police finally picked up his call. Carrie listened quietly as he described the situation to Abe. When he finished, he closed the phone with a violent *snap* and shut his eyes. “They’ll be right over.”

Carrie crossed her arms over her stomach and drew her legs up on the couch, tucking her chin between her knees. “Do you think it’s Stefano?” she asked in a muffled voice. The look John gave her was bleak; he didn’t answer, but, then, he didn’t really need to. She closed her eyes and rolled back on the couch, curling herself into an anguished ball. “Oh, God…”

John turned his back to her, unable to bear seeing her pain. You blew it, John. You promised to protect Doc and you blew it. He pressed the palms of his hands to his temples as if to rub away the stabbing pangs of loss; his knees gave way, and he sank to the floor. Long moments passed in silence as they rocked back and forth in unison, each lost in a private sea of pain and horrible memory. Finally, John opened his eyes and hesitantly reached out to pick up the candle, absently noting that the waxwas still warm enough to smear on his fingers.
“John?” He looked up at the puzzled tone in Carrie’s voice. She was frowning as she dug her hand between the couch cushions. “I felt something…” She pulled out a crumpled ball of newspaper. “What’s this?”
John pushed himself heavily to his feet, frowning. “I don’t know,” he replied as he joined her on the couch. She slowly uncrumpled the wrinkled pages. “It’s not from today,” she said, biting her lip in consternation as one of the pages tore. Suddenly she inhaled sharply. “Oh, my God, John, look at this.” He reached for the paper, recognizing it as a part of the Lifestyle section. The Wedding Announcements page. And one specific announcement – outlined with red magic marker – in particular. Oh, *no*…
MRS. RACHEL BLAKE ANNOUNCES THE WEDDING OF HER DAUGHTER KRISTEN DIMERA TO JOHN BLACK ON FRIDAY, THE…
The rest of the words blurred as tears of horrified comprehension rushed to his eyes. “I’m so sorry, Doc…” he whispered as he crumpled the paper into a ball again, painfully certain that the smears in the ink of the announcement had been caused by Marlena’s tears.
Carrie’s sympathetic gaze moved from his tormented face to the mess on the floor. “Do you think Marlena did all this?” she finally asked, uncertain whether that would make the situation better or worse. John’s eyes were drawn to the mangled pictures next to the fireplace.

“Maybe…” Suddenly, he snapped his fingers and hit himself on the side of the head. “Damn, what was I thinking? Frank, Frank, Frank…” he muttered as he fished out his celphone again and pushed one of the automatic dial buttons. “Frank?” he managed to ask before he was almost deafened by a torrent of high-decibel information. “Calm down, Frank. Have you-…What?…Okay, where, then?…No, stay there, I’ll come right now.” He shut the phone with a snap, sighed, and turned to Carrie. “Frank says Doc ran out of the house about thirty minutes ago. She took her car. He followed her and tried to call me, but-” he grimaced slightly – “my celphone was off again.”

Carrie plucked at his sleeve anxiously. “Is she all right?” John shrugged, eyes full of concern. “She wouldn’t talk to him, except to tell him to go away. I’m going to go to her and try to explain…somehow. God *knows* how. Will you call Abe and tell him we don’t need the police?”
She nodded. “Sure…but, John,” she said, holding up the crumpled ball of newspaper, “That doesn’t explain where this came from.”
He frowned. “No, it doesn’t. But I can’t think about that just now. The
only thing that matters *now* is Doc.” She reached for his hand and
squeezed it. “Good luck.”
***
Marlena stood silently on the edge of the pier, her arms wrapped around her chest protectively, the wind whipping through her unbound hair and sending her red skirt billowing behind her. Her eyes were turned toward the far bank, but her gaze remained blank and unseeing. Nothing in her line of vision could possibly superimpose itself on the image burned into her brain – a picture of John Black holding Kristen Blake – Kristen DIMERA!! – a picture captioned by the announcement of their wedding only a short time before. He’s *married*, she thought bitterly. Married to the *enemy*! No wonder he didn’t want to tell me. She choked back an angry sob. No wonder he didn’t want to make love to me. Because he has a *wife*…a *pregnant* wife…a pregnant *DiMera* wife…
She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, unconsciously trying to warm the pale, chilled flesh. She’d run from the house without even stopping for a coat, unbearably desperate to escape a place full of reminders of the life she and John had shared and John’s utter

betrayal. So why’d you come here, then, Marlena? a small voice in the back of her mind jeered. Why’d you come to *your* pier, yours and his? She shook her head angrily. “I came here long before I met John Black,” she retorted aloud. “This is *my* pier.” The voice in her mind laughed derisively.

She closed her eyes in anguish. How could you do this to me, John? She hadn’t known what to think when she’d first found the newspaper on the back steps after hearing a knock at the kitchen door. She’d briefly entertained the hope that it was all somehow a horrible mistake, but the information in that newspaper explained too many things…the reaction of everyone at the party when Kristen had shown up, the odd silences when she came into a room, Sami and Carrie’s nervousness…John’s reluctance to make love to her. “That really should have tipped you off, Marlena,” she chastised herself bitterly, remembering how they hadn’t been able to keep their hands off of one another when they were married. “But you aren’t married to him anymore, are you, Marlena? He has another *wife*…” She raised her chin defiantly, allowing the wind to dry her tears before they could slide all the way down her cheeks. Why didn’t you tell me, John? Why did you let me think we’d be together? And *how* could you be with a DiMera, after everything Stefano did to all of us?

Her mind a distracting mess of bitter thoughts and emotions, Marlena didn’t hear the quiet footsteps on the wood as John came up behind her. “Doc?” She started so violently that she nearly fell into the water. John reached out to grab her arm to steady her, but she pulled away and hissed, “Don’t *touch* me. Not *ever*!”
John held up his hands and backed up a step. “Doc-” She glared at him. “Don’t call me that!” He winced, but she continued, unrelenting. “What are you doing here?” she spat angrily. “Where’s your *wife*?”
“She’s not my wife,” he replied quietly. “We didn’t get married.” She ruthlessly quashed the small spark of hope that information ignited in her heart. “I’m sorry if my getting *shot* interrupted your plans. But I’m fine now, so you two can get on with your happy little life together. I’m sure you’d like to be married before she gives birth to your *child*!”
He flinched, but managed to meet her eyes. “Kristen and I aren’t *getting* married, Doc.” He took a deep breath. “Not ever.”
Marlena turned her back to him, her mind whirling in confusion, the

tears on her cheeks bitterly cold from the wind. They were silent for a moment. “You’ve got to be freezing, Doc,” John finally said, shrugging out of his suit jacket. “You shouldn’t be out here without a coat. That dress isn’t-” He drew in a sharp breath when he finally noticed exactly what she was wearing – the dress in which she’d tried to seduce him while she was possessed. The dress that had almost been his undoing…”Where did you *get* that?” he demanded harshly.

She shut her eyes, pained. I had such hopes… “Don’t you like it?” she managed to retort, her voice brittle with sarcasm. “*Carrie* seemed to think you would approve. What’s the matter? Does your girlfriend have one just like it?”
He rubbed his eyes in consternation, unhappy with the turn of the conversation; the shock of seeing the dress had worn off quickly. “It’s not that,” he sighed. “And she’s not my girlfriend. In fact…I broke up with her tonight.”
Marlena made no reply. He cleared his throat. “Don’t you even want to know why?”
She laughed hollowly. “I have other, more *pressing* questions.” She whirled to face him, eyes accusing. “Such as how you could let me believe that we were going to be together when you were engaged to someone else! Or how you could *ever* get involved with a DiMera in the first place!”
John held out his jacket, but she shook her head vehemently and backed away. He dropped the coat on the planks between them and clasped his hands together in an unconscious imitation of prayer. “Kristen’s nothing like Stefano, Doc. She’s a good, kind woman – a social worker, in fact. And she never had any idea what kind of monster Stefano was. He managed to hide it from her completely until a couple of years ago.”
She shot him an incredulous look. “You can’t be serious, John! He practically has PSYCHOTIC tattooed on his forehead. He’s been accused of every crime under the sun and supposedly *murdered* on numerous occasions! What, did he tell her he was simply *misunderstood* or something?” John lowered his eyes. Marlena laughed derisively. “And she *believed* that?” He looked away, uncomfortably aware that she had made a very good point. “What *is* their relationship, anyway?”

John shrugged and rubbed his arms briskly. “He adopted her and her brother Peter when they were little. And she was married to Tony before he died last year.”

She frowned in confusion. “She married Tony DiMera? And he was her *brother*?” He nodded, shrugging. “Well, it was what Stefano wanted.” Marlena shook her head disbelievingly. “That’s…that’s disgusting.” She eyed him with disfavor. “And you got *involved* with this woman?”
He hunched his shoulders, trying to conserve warmth as the cold wind sliced through his thin cotton dress shirt as if it didn’t even exist. “I didn’t know who she was when we got involved, Doc. She didn’t tell me until Stefano showed up in Salem. By that time, it was too late, and we were already… And I had been so desperate for *someone* to love after…” His voice trailed off and he shivered.
“After what?” she demanded impatiently, against her better judgment. He sighed, turned, and trudged over to the bench at the back of the pier. “After you told me you weren’t going to leave Roman,” he said simply, collapsing heavily onto the bench and rubbing his forehead tiredly. “I knew that you meant it when you swore you loved him and would never leave him. And I had to let you go, even though it nearly killed me to do so. But watching you with him was torture. And dreaming about you at night, only to wake up and know the two of you were together the way *we* never would be again…laughing, talking, making love…”
Marlena turned back toward the water, unwilling to meet his eyes. “I needed *someone*,” he finished quietly. “And Kristen was there.” Marlena said nothing in reply as she stared out into the river. The wind blew ripples across the water, whipping her hair into a golden halo shot through with the lamplight illuminating the pier. The red dress molded itself to her body, the skirt trailing behind her, offering tantalizing glimpses of shapely leg. John swallowed, burning desire uncurling in his stomach.
He took a deep breath and wrenched his attention back to the subject at hand. “Kristen is…well, she’s a very nice person, Doc. In fact, she’s a friend of yours…a good friend.”
Marlena, still facing the river, rolled her eyes toward the heavens. Like I believe that! “Really, John?” she asked, her voice scathing. “A

*good* friend? Tell me, did I give her tips on how to have your child? Did I help her plan *your* wedding? Give her advice on what to cook you for dinner? Tell her just how you like to be touched when we’re-” Her voice broke on a sob and she bowed her head in silent anguish. Her hands fisted at her sides. Damn, damn, damn, I didn’t want to break down in front of him. Seconds later she could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end, and she knew he stood directly behind her. The electricity that had always existed between them charged the air. She tensed, sensing he was about to touch her, but what finally whispered across her skin was fabric, not flesh. He wrapped his jacket around her shoulders and rested his hands on her upper arms, sighing softly.

“I’m sorry, Doc,” he whispered, his lips inches from her ear. His warm breath caused shivers to run up and down her spine, and his touch felt like a sunburn in the cold night air. She shrugged out from under his grasp but pulled the lapels of the coat together tightly. No point in freezing to death, she reasoned sharply with the little honest voice in her head, to which the voice replied, And you’re not even noticing how much the jacket smells like him, like his robe in the morning, like the sheets after you’ve just made love… She shook her head in denial. Shut up! she told the little voice, and looked up to find John watching her quizzically.
She cleared her throat. “It isn’t about being sorry anymore, John. It’s not about regrets, or old promises, or history…” She grimaced and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, John beheld both pain and implacable purpose. She took a deep breath and smiled wanly. “I suppose I should apologize to you, actually – for turning your life upside down when you needed it the least. For forcing you to babysit me just when you’d carved out a wonderful future for yourself, with the person *you* had chosen. And especially for reminding you of a past you’ve worked so hard to overcome.” He began to shake his head in disagreement, but she held up a hand to prevent him from interrupting. “I think…” she said softly, “I think that until this moment I hadn’t actually accepted the reality of all that I’ve lost. I *understand* that I don’t remember the last ten years of my life, but I’ve yet to accept the kinds of changes ten years can bring.” Her eyes welled up with fresh tears, but she blinked rapidly to keep them

from falling. She offered him a teary smile. “When we were together, I had a lot of dreams about our future. Really vivid dreams…about the children, about Carrie’s college graduation, about teaching Sami and Eric to drive, and about-” her voice broke for a moment, but she took a deep breath, pressed the palm of her hand against her stomach, and continued, “about having more children, children whose childhoods you would *remember* being a part of…” She swiped at the tears which had finally begun to overflow, blurring her vision and causing her to miss the identical moisture on John’s cheeks. “And dreams about us…*so* many dreams about us…years of waking up in each other’s arms, drifting off to sleep in each other’s arms…” She managed a wry half-grin through her tears. “Years of doing *other* things in each other’s arms…” John reached for her, but she held up an arm to ward him off and turned back to look out across the water. “I couldn’t ever – not in a million years – have imagined a future like this one,” she said softly. “A future where there would *be* no us…”

“No!” John interjected desperately. “That *isn’t* the future, Doc. At least it doesn’t have to be. We *can* be together, if you’ll just let it happen.”
Marlena pulled the jacket more tightly around her shoulders, though she knew the coldness in her body had little to do with the chill night air. She tossed a sardonic smile over her shoulder toward John. “I don’t go in for threesomes, John.”
He almost smiled. “Neither do I. Remember, I *did* used to be a priest, Doc.” His attempt at levity fell flat, and she returned her gaze to the water. John took a deep breath. True confession time. “I was telling you the truth when I said Kristen and I would never be married, Marlena. I told her that tonight. I also told her *why*.” She remained silent. “Would you like me to tell *you*?” He felt his knees go weak with relief when he saw her infinitesimal nod. Maybe there’s still a chance… “I told her that I’d been lying to her the whole time we were together.” Marlena finally turned to face him, surprise widening her eyes. He nodded. “I’m not proud of it, but it’s true. And the only explanation I have is that I was lying to myself as well.” She regarded him quietly for a moment before finally walking over to join him on the bench. She sat down on the opposite end, as far from him as possible, her eyes locked on the water. “Go on,” she murmured softly.

John leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and rubbed his chin. “I suppose I behaved the same way after our affair as I had when you first came back. I tried to look at the situation objectively…” he flicked a glance toward her “…to accept your feelings for Roman…” he sighed “…and to deny my feelings for you. No, not *deny* them, but *bury* them – so far away and so deep that they couldn’t hurt me any more.” She winced visibly. He rubbed his forehead wearily. “I suppose I really set out to find someone else…not to replace you, because I always knew that wasn’t possible…but someone to be with, to laugh with, to talk to…someone to fill the empty spaces, even if only for a while. And I convinced myself that Kristen could do that.” He dropped his hands and stared out toward the water. “And I did a really good job of it, too. It wasn’t until last year…”

Marlena looked down at her hands clenched tightly on the lapels of the jacket. “What happened last year?” she asked softly.
He replied just as quietly, “I was on trial for murder, Doc. The murder of Anthony DiMera. The charge was murder one, with a possible death sentence if convicted.”
She looked up at him, wide-eyed. “But that’s ridiculous! Why would anyone believe you would kill Tony? You would never murder *anyone*.”
He grinned at her, his mood lightened slightly by her ever- unwavering faith. “That’s just what you said back then, Doc. And no matter how much evidence piled up to the contrary, you never lost your faith in me. You never stopped supporting me.” His face darkened. “Unlike some people.”
She sucked in her breath in sudden comprehension. “Unlike Kristen, you mean?”
He nodded. “She pretended to believe in me, for a while. And when we thought it was the end, she said she finally *did*. But when she was on the witness stand she admitted that she thought it was possible that I had killed Tony. And her testimony, along with a lot of really convincing circumstantial evidence, helped the judge decide that I was guilty. And he sentenced me to die.”
She covered her mouth with her hand in horror. “Oh, my God…” He smiled at her, eyes glinting with emotion. “But you wouldn’t give up. You were willing to do *anything*, even put yourself in danger of

Stefano DiMera, to help prove my innocence. But it was almost too late. They had taken me to the gas chamber and were seconds from dropping the gas when the governor granted me a temporary stay of execution. I can still remember how it felt being strapped to that chair…” His voice fell to a hushed whisper and memory darkened his eyes. “And I can remember the thoughts that came to me, the last thoughts I believed I would ever have…thoughts of the children…” he looked up at her “…thoughts of you…And I knew then that what I felt for you was as strong as it had ever been…stronger even.” Marlena couldn’t hold his gaze and turned back toward the water. “That’s when I wrote the letter, Doc. Because I thought I’d never get a chance to tell you myself, and I wanted you to know.” She nodded, wiping away the tears that rolled slowly down her cheeks.

He leaned back against the bench, a small smile on his face. “You saved me, though. You found the proof of my innocence and managed to get it to the gas chamber a few seconds after they finally dropped the gas. And when I regained consciousness, the first thing I wanted to do was thank you. And maybe tell you…” He waved his hand futilely. “But Stefano had taken you, and suddenly all that really mattered was getting you back. We managed it, just barely. But you were very weak, and I decided to wait to talk to you about everything until we were back in Salem. I looked around for the letter, but no one had seen it. I thought it was lost.”
Marlena ducked her head and bit her lip. “I guess it wasn’t.” “No, though I don’t really understand how it finally got to you,” he said meditatively. “Laura told me that you found the letter the day Kristen found out she was pregnant.” Marlena flinched and he sighed sadly. “Kristen has a medical condition that made it necessary for her to conceive as quickly as possible, or risk never having a child. And the pregnancy was very high-risk. Any stress at all could have caused her to miscarry, and you weren’t willing to risk it. Laura said you decided to wait to tell me how you felt until after you’d returned from a trip to San Francisco with…one of your patients. But Stefano kidnapped you before you had a chance to get there.”
Marlena’s head snapped up. “He kidnapped me *again*?” John nodded guiltily. “I thought I had planned for every contingency. I knew he was out there, knew he was obsessed with you. But I believed I’d

thought of everything.” He shrugged defeatedly. “I was wrong.” Chapter 25

Marlena watched him for a moment, tight-lipped. “What happened?” John didn’t look at her. “He held you in a cage,” he said in a quiet voice as he stared at the river. “He had this…device that allowed us to see you without you knowing it. He played all sorts of mind games with you, using the children against you…and me.” He closed his eyes. “You?” He nodded fractionally. “He convinced you I was dead, Doc. To rob you of all hope of being rescued. To convince you that attempting to escape was foolish.” He finally turned to look at her. “To make you stop loving me, I think.”
Marlena looked back down at her lap. “Did it work?” she asked softly. He shook his head. “I don’t know, Doc. He stopped letting us watch after that.”
She considered that for a moment. Then – “Who is *us*, exactly?” He glanced away uncomfortably. “Well, me, Abe, Lexie…Bo, Hope, some people with the ISA…Kristen.” Her knuckles whitened where she gripped the lapels. “I see…” Her voice was wintry. “And you were engaged to her then, were you not?”
He winced and bit his lip, but, finally, could only nod. “Yes…” Marlena turned to look at him, and he saw the anger kindling in her eyes again. “And he still held me captive on your wedding day?”
John closed his eyes to avoid her accusing gaze, but nodded again. “Yes…”
Marlena abruptly stood up and walked to the edge of the pier again. He could feel the emotional distance that went hand-in- hand with the physical distance. “Doc-” She held up a hand, cutting him off, and turned to face him. He nearly recoiled from the bitterness in her expression. “So, tell me, John – What happened then? Why aren’t you *Mr.* Kristen DiMera?”
He stood up on shaking legs and walked toward the edge of the pier, stopping a scant few feet away from her. He could feel the anger radiating from her, but he couldn’t help the note of pride that tinged his voice. “You escaped, Doc. All by yourself. You got away from Stefano somehow and showed up at the church in the middle of the ceremony. When Father Jansen asked for everyone to ‘speak now or forever hold your peace’ – well…you spoke. And then you fainted.”

She quirked a sardonic brow and asked in scathing tones, “Overcome with my love for you, hmmmm?” He flushed. “No, actually, from blood loss, Mike said.”

Her hand automatically went to her shoulder. He nodded. “You were shot trying to escape Stefano. We don’t know exactly what happened,” he said, smiling wanly, “We were sort of hoping you would tell us when you woke up.”
She stared at him a moment, eyes empty. “But when I woke up, I thought you were Roman Brady…” She turned back toward the water. “That it was 1986…” She lowered her eyes. “And that you loved me…” “I do love you, Doc.”
Her reply was somewhere between a groan of disbelief and a moan of despair. She hugged herself tightly and raised her head, but she wouldn’t look at him. “I really don’t want to hear it, John. Not right now.” “Doc-”
“No,” she stated quietly, utter finality in her tone. “Just go.” He watched her for a moment, his mind racing as he tried to think of something to say to change the way she felt. But there was nothing. “I can’t just leave you here, Doc.”
“I’ll go to the Pub. The kids are at Carrie’s. They won’t know the difference.” He voice was remote, totally devoid of emotion. “Just leave.”
Finally, he nodded shortly. “Fine.” He walked over to the stairs, his boots beating a staccato rhythm on the old wooden planks. He paused at the bottom of the steps, his hand on the rail, and turned back toward her. “I just want you to know something, Doc. It may have taken me far too long to recognize the mistakes that I’ve made – the wrong decisions, the foolish choices…It may be too late for you to forgive me, and I understand that.” He took a deep breath. “I really hope that it isn’t, though. But even if it is, it won’t change what I’ve said and done tonight. I’m not going to be with Kristen. Not ever.” He watched her carefully for some sort of reaction, but there was none. He sighed. “And I *do* love you,” he said softly. He regarded her silently for a few more moments, trying to memorize the way she looked in the twilight, her hair shining under the lamplight, her dress framing her beautiful body. Even her tears were beautiful, though he ached with regret knowing he was their cause. “Goodnight, Doc.” He

turned and mounted the steps.

Marlena listened as his footsteps receded into the distance. When she was sure he was gone, she finally released the emotion she’d held so well in check those last few moments. She closed her eyes in anguish, still hearing his voice though he was no longer present. I *do* love you…I *do* love you…Goodnight, Doc… She shook her head angrily, rubbing crossly at her tears. “Good-*bye*, John!” Unconsciously burrowing further into his coat for warmth, she turned away from the water and walked toward the stairs. Her hand on the rail, she paused just as he had and turned to look back at *their* pier. “And goodbye to you, too.” She walked up the stairs without a backward glance.
Marlena watched silently as the snow gently fell on the bushes in front of the Brady Pub, her breath making small clouds on the glass of the front window. She could hear the cheery notes of the Christmas carols playing softly from the stereo behind the bar, interspersed with the babblings of excited children – and adults – as they decorated the room with garland and tinsel. She turned to see Sami holding Will up to inspect the Christmas ornaments hanging on the festive – if lopsided – tree standing in the corner; he poked one small finger at a shiny green ball and chortled happily. Sami laughed and hugged him tightly to her chest. Marlena finally smiled for the first time that day, watching as her grandson enjoyed his second Christmas. But then a cloud of memory crossed her face, and she turned back to stare into the night.
Caroline watched her daughter-in-law from her position behind the bar where she was dispensing egg nog with a liberal hand. “I hate to see her like this, Shawn. It’s Christmas, and she’s healthy and safe and here with her family. She should be laughing and enjoying herself. Instead…”
Shawn nodded. “Instead, she’s lookin’ as if she just lost her best friend.” He sighed. “Has she told you what it’s all about, then?” Caroline shook her head. “She said she and John had a disagreement about him keeping certain things from her – but that’s all she would say.”
He frowned. “But I thought Sami said she understood all that….”
“She did,” came a voice from the stairway. They turned to see Carrie navigating her way toward them carrying a sagging cardboard box full of decorations. A rather dilapidated-looking Santa peeked out from

one split corner. Carrie grimaced. “But then she found out one last bit of news that she had a little bit more trouble accepting.” She heaved her burden up onto a table with a small grunt of satisfaction and flipped a wayward string of lights back into the box. She turned to see her grandparents watching her expectantly and sighed heavily. “She found out about Kristen.”

Caroline regarded her with dismay. “Oh, poor Marlena, that must have been such a horrible shock…” Shawn nodded his agreement. “How in heaven’s name did she find out?”
Carrie shot a disgusted glance toward an oblivious Sami. “*Someone* delivered an old newspaper containing John and Kristen’s wedding announcement over to the house. John came home to find the house empty and the living room trashed. We both thought that Stefano had taken her until we found the newspaper. Her guard told John she ran out of the house a few minutes before John got there.” She shrugged. “John went to talk to her. I have no idea what happened next.”
Caroline returned her gaze to Marlena’s dejected figure. “Nothing good, I think.” She watched in puzzlement as Marlena tensed at something she saw out the window, then turned and fled toward the stairs. “Marlena?” she called, but the woman ignored her, ascending the stairs at full speed, two steps at a time. Caroline raised her eyebrows and turned back toward Carrie and Shawn. “What in the world?”
The jingling of the sleigh bells hanging on the front door signalled the arrival of a new guest. John pushed his way through a knot of Hortons, nodding his greetings, shaking his head to dislodge the snowflakes and rubbing his hands together to warm them. “Daddeeee,” Brady yelled when he caught sight of his father. The little boy ran toward John to launch himself into his arms. “You’re *here*!” He gave John a smacking kiss on the cheek.
John grinned down at his son. “Well, of course I’m here, slugger. After all, this is where *you* are. And I could never have Christmas without my slugger.” Brady grinned and batted at the white ball of fur on the end of John’s Santa hat. “Hey, kid, don’t mess with the outfit.” Brady laughed and squirmed his way to the floor, then darted over to join his sister and Abby where they sat playing in a corner booth. Smiling, John watched him settle in before turning to face the adults at the bar.

His smile faded. “Where’s Doc?”

Shawn waved a hand toward the stairs. “She ran upstairs when she saw you comin’. Maybe you should leave her be, son. She has a lot to be dealin’ with right now.”
John gave him a pained smile. “I know that, Shawn. I just wanted to…oh, I don’t know.” They fell silent. John turned to gaze at his children, who were laughing happily as they sat with their friend. Brady held up two Santa cookies in front of Belle, each imaginatively – if not all that artistically – decorated with great gobs of icing. The little girl eyed each solemnly before pointing her finger at the one which sported a purple-and- yellow-suited Santa with a spectacularly large red nose. Brady handed it to her. She eyed it speculatively for a moment before biting off the head with a satisfying crunch. They both giggled, and John smiled. He turned back toward Shawn, jaw clenched with fresh determination. “I have to make her understand, Shawn. It’s just too important to…It’s too important,” he finished, shrugging helplessly.
Shawn cocked an eyebrow at Carrie, who caught the hint, grabbed her box and set off toward the front windows. Caroline murmured something about getting more egg nog and, hefting the large bowl still half-full of nog, disappeared into the kitchen. Shawn turned back to John. “Make her understand what, John?”
John looked down at his hands, which were clenched in trepidation over Shawn’s possible reaction. He took a deep breath. “I have to make her understand how much I love her, Shawn. I have to make her understand I never *stopped* loving her, that I never *will* stop. I have to make her understand that the only thing standing in the way of our having a future together is…” He exhaled gustily and looked up at Shawn, “…is her.”
Shawn eyed him, his expression noncommittal. “And your fiancee?” he asked.
John flushed and looked down. “Kristen isn’t my fiancee anymore,” he mumbled finally. “I told her that we couldn’t be married when I had such strong feelings for someone else. It wouldn’t be fair to her, to the baby, to me, or to Doc.” Shawn was silent. Finally, John couldn’t stand the suspense anymore and looked up at his former father. He was surprised by the compassion etched on the man’s face.

Shawn sighed sadly. “Ah, well…at least you’re learnin’ from your mistakes now.” John looked startled. “What?”

Shawn leaned forward on the bar, resting his weight on his elbows and propping his chin up on one fist. He gaze was piercing. “Ignorin’ your feelings for Marlena didn’t work the last time, did it now? And I’m thinkin’ that those feelings haven’t lessened any over time, have they?” Shawn looked down at his hands, callused and roughened by years of pulling nets and gutting fish. “And if you could hurt Roman the way you did, feelin’ about him and this family the way I know you do…then Kristen and the baby haven’t a chance in hell of holdin’ you back from who you really want…” He looked back up into John’s stricken face and his own softened with understanding. “It’s better to know it now, isn’t it?…for everyone’s sake.”
John rubbed his forehead tiredly, his voice lowering to a whisper. “Why is it…” he asked softly, staring at the polished top of the bar, “Why is it that no matter how much I want to keep from hurting the people I care about, that’s all I seem to do?” He met Shawn’s gaze, an apology in his eyes. “This family…a family I love like my own – no, *more* than my own – a family I love *as* my own…and Roman…” He clenched his fists and turned to look at Sami and her son. “And the kids…I *never* wanted to hurt the kids – I gave them *up* to spare them that kind of pain, and then I went and ruined the family I gave them to…” He closed his eyes in anguish. “And Marlena…” Her name came out on a moan of despair, and he covered his eyes with his hands. “I love her more than I’ve ever loved anyone in this life…and I’ve caused her more pain than anyone in the world.” He looked back up at Shawn. “And even Kristen…God, Shawn, she didn’t deserve to have this done to her.”
Shawn reached for John’s hand and held it with a surprisingly strong grip. “No…,” he said. “No, John, that’s wrong.”
John frowned, puzzled. Shawn squeezed his hand. “It’s Pop, remember?” he said thickly. John’s eyes widened, stunned. “What?” he managed to ask in a strangled voice. Shawn squeezed his hand again, eyes glinting with moisture in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. “We decided you’d call me Pop again, remember?” John swallowed. “But that was for Marlena…”
Shawn nodded. “But now it’s for you…and for me.” He cleared his

throat and gave John’s hand one final pat. “Because you are my son, mistakes or no…and you always will be.” John stared at him, eyes full of emotion. “Together you and Marlena will work things out, and the Bradys will be glad of it. And Kristen’s baby will always have a place as our grandchild, and Kristen as its mother.” His voice was implacable. “It’ll be all right, son. You’ll see.” He grinned wryly. “After all, ’tis the season of miracles, is it not?”

John managed a dazed grin. “I guess so…” Shawn grinned back at him, then abruptly pulled him into a rough hug. “I love you, son.” Releasing John, Shawn gripped his shoulders and laughed, a bit embarrassed. “You find Marlena, now. Make it right, you hear me?”
John smiled and squeezed Shawn’s arms in return. “I hear you, Pop. I hear you.” Shawn nodded abruptly and wheeled about, heading toward the Christmas tree where Brady, Belle and Abby stood in a small knot, admiring the decorations. He grabbed Belle around the waist and lifted her up to the ceiling as she giggled with delight. John watched them, a feeling of contentment spreading through his chest. *My* family…and I promise you, Shawn, I *will* make it right.
***
Marlena lay on the bed in the guest bedroom, staring directly up at the ceiling without actually noticing it. He’s here, her mind kept repeating over and over, accompanied by alternating feelings of joy and betrayal – joy from the idea of spending Christmas with the man she loved – and betrayal from knowing the man she loved was a stranger now. She rolled over onto her side, clasping her hands together between her knees, and looked out the window at the falling snow. But it’s Christmas, Marlena, and for the kids’ sakes you *have* to hold yourself together. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and curled into a ball. In a few minutes… she vowed to herself. I just need a little time. A knock sounded on the door. Caroline, Marlena guessed, remembering how closely her former mother-in-law had been watching her ever since she’d come to stay at the Pub. I really should have told her what’s going on, she thought guiltily. But she had barely managed to face it herself; it definitely didn’t bear talking about. “I’m fine, Caroline,” she called softly toward the door, her gaze still riveted on the falling snow. “I’ll be down in a minute.”

She heard the squeak of the hinges as the door opened, and she

sighed. “I really am all right, Caroline. I just needed a few minutes alone.” She felt the mattress sag as someone sat down. “It’s not Caroline.”

Marlena shot bolt upright and twisted to face the man at the foot of the bed. “John!” He smiled wryly at her. “That’s right. John Black…Good Guy with a capital ‘G’, remember?” His eyes softened with the memory of their first dance so many years ago.
Marlena resisted the urge to wipe her cheeks again to make sure the tears were gone – if they weren’t, he’d already seen them, and if they were, the gesture would tell him she’d been crying. And she didn’t want to show any weakness in front of him. “What are you doing here?” she asked coolly.
He played with a loose knot of thread on the quilted coverlet. “It’s Christmas, Doc,” he finally said softly, eyes downcast. “You know, a time for family? Peace on Earth? Good will toward men?” Her face felt hot. She turned toward the window again. “Right.”
John grimaced. “I’m not making fun of you, Doc, I swear. And I’m not belittling your feelings. You have every right in the world to be angry with me – I know that. But today is *Christmas*.” He winced at the pleading tone in his voice but continued. “Brady and Belle are downstairs, and they’re all excited about spending the holidays with us. The whole family is so incredibly thankful that you’re here and you’re healthy. It wouldn’t be Christmas for them without you here.” His voice lowered. “And believe me, it’s true. I spent enough Christmases without you to know that.”
Marlena blinked repeatedly to prevent rapidly welling tears from spilling over. “I wasn’t planning on staying up here forever,” she admitted softly. “I just needed some time…”
She saw him nod out of the corner of her eye. “Okay,” he said finally. “Then I’ll give you time….” His voice intensified. “I’ll give you whatever
you need, Doc. I’ll wait however long it takes. I’ll wait *forever*.” He took a deep breath. “I’ll be downstairs with the kids. I’ll tell them you’ll be down in a few minutes.” She nodded fractionally, eyes still locked on the darkness outside the window. She felt the mattress tilt as he rose from the bed, and heard the soft footfalls as he padded across the carpet. The door shut with a click.
She wrapped her arms around her chest, allowing herself one small

moan of misery. I’m so confused. I don’t know what to feel or think. I don’t know what’s true and what isn’t. She shivered. Do I have a right to judge him for things I don’t remember him doing? Or should I concentrate on what I *do* remember? She bowed her head in unconscious prayer. I remember that I loved him beyond everything in the world once upon a time…I remember that when I woke up scared and alone in that hospital bed, he was there holding my hand and chasing the demons away…I know that he turned his life upside down to help me, and never even asked any thanks for it…I know the way his eyes crinkle up when he smiles…the way his lips feel when he kisses me…the way his eyes darken with passion when we’re making love… She shook her head abruptly, anger flashing in her eyes. I know he was engaged to someone else! I know he lied about her! I know he’s going to have a *child* with her! The flash of anger flared brightly, but dissipated just as quickly. But Laura says you loved him anyway…

She closed her eyes. And you know it’s true. She pursed her lips, considering. So I love him – no big surprise. And he says he loves me. The question *really* is…do I doubt that? She frowned silently, her mind racing, but finally had to shake her head. No, I don’t doubt it. He loves me. Slowly she began to smile…but then the smile faded. But what about *her*? Marlena jumped up from the bed, her agitation exhibiting itself in nervous energy. She paced back and forth across the floor. He said he broke up with her, is never going to be with her, that she’s out of his life. He says he wants me and only me. That he’ll wait for me however long it takes. That he’ll wait *forever*. So again the question is…do I believe him? She turned to look at the door, suddenly overwhelmingly certain that if she opened it, walked down the hall and descended the stairs, she would find him waiting for her. Wanting her. Loving her more than anyone in the world. The thought brought an unbidden smile to her face. Yes, she decided finally. I do believe him.

***
John eyed his Santa cookie dubiously and glanced down at his small daughter, who grinned up at him expectantly. He inspected the orange and blue monstrosity, idly calculating exactly how many tubs of icing they’d managed to spread on just this one cookie. “Are you sure you want me to eat it?” he asked his daughter hopefully. “It’s so beautiful,

maybe we should keep it.” Sami snorted from across the booth. Her right hand held the cookie Brady had given her, which, though also liberally slathered with icing, was not nearly as well-laden as John’s. “Good one, John,” she said under her breath, but the smile she bestowed on Brady and Belle was tender. “These look great, guys!” Belle giggled. “Eat it, Daddy.”

He swallowed. “All right.” He squeezed his eyes shut theatrically and opened his mouth as wide as he could. “Here goes!” He pretended to miss his mouth entirely, causing Belle and Brady to erupt in laughter once more. “You missed, Daddy!” He opened one eye to give his little girl a wink. “I did, didn’t I? I’ll try it again.” He managed, after several more dramatic attempts, to get the cookie in his mouth. He swallowed a mouthful of icing and grinned down at his children. “This is wonderful, guys,” he said when he could finally speak through the sugary glue. “Why don’t you go give some to your grandparents? They’re right over there by the tree.”
Brady beamed at him and grabbed the gooey tin of cookies. “Okay, Daddy.” John lifted Belle off of his lap and set her on the floor. Brady grabbed Belle’s hand and the two children raced over toward their grandparents. He watched as they held the tin up to Caroline, who shot him a mock-threatening glare. He grinned at her and turned back to Sami, whose eyes sparkled with laughter. She held up her cookie. “Want another one?”
He grimaced and gulped a cup of egg nog to wash the icing down. “Not on your life. I’m going to have a sugar rush for the next week as it is. Belle *definitely* inherited your mother’s culinary skills.” He stopped, his expression one of comic dismay as he realized to whom he was speaking and then imagined her probable reaction to any mention, however inadvertent, of the facts of Belle’s parentage. But Sami just laughed as she eyed her cookie critically. “I think you’re right. I hope this means you didn’t buy her an E-Z Bake Oven for Christmas.”
John shuddered. “Bite your tongue.” Sami grinned at him. “I remember the year you got one for me. You ate everything I ever gave you.” Her eyes twinkled impishly. “Even the stuff I wouldn’t eat myself!”
He growled at her. “Why, you little…I should have known you were just trying to torture me because I couldn’t find you a Cabbage Patch Kid.”

Sami groaned and covered her eyes. “I had totally forgotten about those.” She peeked out at him between her fingers, smiling. “What was the attraction of those things, anyway?”

John shrugged. “Beats me. I mean, it’s not like they ate, or wet the bed, or grew hair, or anything any of your other dolls ever did. And, boy, were they ugly. But thirty-three stores in three different cities were *completely* sold out of them.” Sami’s face softened and her eyes glinted with emotion. “Thirty-three, huh?” He smiled. “Yes,” he replied softly.
“Thirty-three what?” said a voice from behind John. He turned to find Marlena watching them, a small smile on her face. She’s smiling! What does that mean?
“Thirty-three stores without a Cabbage Patch Kid, Mom. We were talking about Christmas gifts not purchased a long, long time ago.” Sami smiled at her and held out her hand. “Want a cookie?”
John laughed. “Oh, no you don’t, Sami. I ate mine, you have to eat yours. Besides, Belle and Brady will be after Marlena any minute now, and eating two of those might possibly be lethal.” Sami eyed the cookie, raising an eyebrow. “You’re probably right. But I’m definitely going to need some egg nog to choke it down.” She shoved her way out of the booth. “Here, Mom, take my seat.” She tossed them a fleeting grin over her shoulder as she made her way toward the bar. Marlena looked at John, hesitated for a moment, then slid into the booth.
They stared at each other in silence. Marlena drummed her fingers on the table and bit her lip. Finally, she cocked her head to the side and managed a small smile. “Hi,” she said. “Hi,” he replied softly, swallowing past the lump in his throat, a lump that had nothing to do with wayward icing. “I’m glad you decided to come down.” She took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and nodded. “Me, too. I don’t want to miss any more time with the children…” The hand he’d been extending across the table toward her abruptly stilled. He coughed. “The children, of course.” He produced a wan smile. “I know how much they’ve been looking forward to spending the holiday with you.”
She stared down at the table top. “Yes…” They were silent for a moment. Finally she looked up and met his eyes. “It isn’t just the children, John.” Hesitantly, she reached across the table and took his

hand in hers, the warm touch of her fingers causing currents of electricity to shoot up his arm. “I didn’t want to miss any more time with you,” she admitted softly. He smiled at her, tears filling his eyes. “I feel the same way, Doc. I want to be with you more than anything in the world.” She smiled back. “I know. I believe you.”

“Momma!” Brady yelled from across the Pub, having finally noticed his mother’s presence in the room. “Did’ja see the tree? Grandpa just put the angel on it.”
She gave John’s hand one last squeeze and scooted out of the booth, making her way toward the tree around the intervening tables. She bent over and hefted Brady into her arms as he continued his uninterrupted monologue on the attributes of the Brady Christmas tree. She smiled and nodded, eyes alight with maternal affection. John watched for a few moments, thanking the Lord silently that Brady had such an amazing mother to take Isabella’s place. Then he began to ponder various ways in which to give her his Christmas present.
“John?” He looked up to see Carrie standing next to his booth. “What is it, Punkin?” She held up a string of garland. “Could you help me hang this? It goes around the front window.” She pointed toward the front of the Pub. “Sure, Carrie.” He slid out of the booth and grabbed the box containing the rest of the garland. They weaved their way around the tables in the middle of the room, stopping to chat a moment with various guests. Carrie cast a critical eye toward the window. “I’ll stand on the ladder and you can hand me the garland and the tacks, okay?”
He grinned up at her as she climbed the ladder steps. “And catch you if you fall? Or maybe just give you someone to land on?” She laughed. “Exactly.”
They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Carrie muttered, “Oops…damn, I forgot it,” under her breath. “What?” John asked. She ignored him and scanned the room from her aerial vantage point. “There it is,” she said triumphantly, then raised her voice to call, “Marlena, could you bring me that bag on the table next to you?”
Marlena nodded and rehung the ornament she’d been inspecting. She picked up the bag and made her way over toward Carrie. “Here you go,” she said, handing it up to her.

“Thanks, Marlena.” Carrie peered into the bag and nodded with satisfaction. She turned back toward her work, and John and Marlena were left to stare awkwardly at each other. Finally, he grinned. “So, did Brady give you the history of *every* single ornament on the tree?” Marlena laughed. “Just about…I especially liked all the baseball-playing reindeer – Your contribution, I suppose?” He nodded, smiling.

“There!” Carrie stated with satisfaction from somewhere over their heads. “That’s perfect.” She cleared her throat ostentatiously, causing John and Marlena to wrench their gazes from one another and look up at her. And at what she’d just hung from the ceiling above them. Mistletoe.
She grinned down at them and raised her eyebrows. “Well?” John looked at Marlena and raised his eyebrows in an identical gesture. “Well?” he asked softly.
Marlena gazed up at him, eyes glinting with emotion. “Far be it from me to fly in the face of years and years of tradition…” John smiled tenderly and cupped her face between his hands, bending down to place a feather-light kiss on her lips. Marlena had other ideas. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close, until their bodies fused into one. She deepened the kiss, sliding her tongue inside his mouth to twine with his, eliciting a heartfelt moan of desire from deep inside his throat. They were oblivious to the stares of everyone in the Pub – some of the faces were disapproving, but most held surprised happiness, mixed with considerable doses of confusion. Shawn and Caroline smiled at each other in satisfaction. Sami bounced Will on her hip, her expression thoughtful. Carrie darted a triumphant glance toward Austin, who grinned back at her. But John and Marlena remained oblivious, as the kiss went on and on.
They were finally interrupted by the jingling of the sleigh bells on the front door. “Excuse me…”
Marlena abruptly broke off the kiss, stumbling backward in shock. She stared at Kristen, her eyes traveling down from her red fur hat to the bulge of her pregnancy, displayed fetchingly in a skimpy Santa minidress. She looked back up to see an expression of malicious satisfaction cross Kristen’s face, before the other woman schooled her features into a polite smile. She held out the stack of presents in her arms. “I’ve brought presents for everyone.”

Marlena glanced wildly at John, who stared at Kristen, a mixture of annoyance and guilt on his face. “Kristen, what are you *doing* here?” Kristen gave him a brave little smile and replied softly, “I didn’t want the children to think I had abandoned them, John, just because you and I aren’t together for now. They must be confused about not living at home with us anymore, and I need to make sure they know how much I care about them. I’ve been a big part of Brady’s life ever since he was a little baby – and a part of Belle’s ever since I helped deliver her.” Marlena inhaled sharply, her mind blank with shock and betrayal. She stared at the engagement ring Kristen still wore on her left hand as she was forced to confront several of the unalterable facts she’d tried so desperately to disregard. Kristen DiMera would never be out of John’s life – because she carried his child. And she obviously had a place all her own within the family. Marlena looked around the room at all the stunned faces, which now held only sympathy for Kristen’s brave front. They all love her, she thought, completely missing the scowls on Carrie and Sami’s faces and the confusion on Brady and Belle’s. A new realization hit her with the force of a stunning backhand blow. And that means John can’t *possibly* keep his promise!

Kristen’s voice pierced her anguished reverie. “Brady and Belle are going to be a big part of our child’s life, too, John. His or her big brother and big sister. I want them to know how much I’ll always love them, and that we’ll always be a family.” She smiled at him, then winced a little as if in pain. “Could you-” She bit her lip. “Could you help me with the gifts, John? They’re a little heavy.” He glanced swiftly at Marlena’s pale face before reaching out to take the boxes. Marlena let out a choked cry, turned, and fled toward the stairs. “Doc!” he called from behind the awkward mound of boxes, but she didn’t slow. She did not look back as she vanished up the stairs. Chapter 26

John snapped the lock on his suitcase and tossed it onto the couch, where it bounced before landing on the floor with a thump. He stood still for a moment and gazed around the room, depressed at the thought of leaving this house again. The last time had been horrible enough, he remembered. He’d departed with only one duffle bag of possessions, painfully aware that he was leaving behind everything that *really* mattered…his job, his home, his children…and Marlena.

And now he was doing it again…and it hurt more than ever. Sighing, he looked down at his watch. Where *are* they? ***

Kristen slammed the phone receiver down into its cradle in disgust. Damn that brother of mine! All he can think about is Jennifer, Jennifer, JENNIFER!!! How the hell can he possibly believe that she’d ever come back to him after finding out he tried to drive her mother crazy? Talk about deluded! She snorted derisively. At least I’m not so far gone that I can’t see that John would never understand *or* accept any of the things that *I’ve* done…That’s why he can never find out the truth. But I need Peter’s help to ensure that! She flopped down onto the couch and sighed. Oh well, Peter will have to accept the inevitable soon enough. And then he can help me. She grinned. After all, it’s not as if I’m doing all that badly on my own, anyway. She chuckled, remembering the shocked and tormented expression on Marlena’s face when Kristen had entered the Pub carrying the Christmas gifts, wearing a smile, a belly swollen with pregnancy, and John’s ring. The pain on the other woman’s face had been a sweet victory.

Kristen’s smile faded and she began to frown. John’s reaction hadn’t really been what she’d wanted, however. She’d expected him to be impressed with her courage and magnanimity. Instead he’d hustled her out the door at the first opportunity, without even letting her wait for Belle and Brady to open their gifts from *Auntie Kristen* – not that they’d seemed all that interested in them, anyway. He’d tried to cover by murmuring something about her probably having plans with her mother and her brother, but she’d seen through that excuse right away. He hadn’t wanted her there, for Marlena’s sake. And as much as his dismissal irked her, it was heartening to know that they obviously hadn’t completely worked things out yet, regardless of that kiss under the mistletoe. I still have time, Kristen thought, relieved and freshly determined. And that was only round one.
“Kristen?” Her mother’s tentative voice caused a frown to return to her face. She closed her eyes and leaned back onto the cushions. “What is it *now*, Mother?”
Rachel Blake crept around the doorway of the living room as if she were afraid that someone was going to jump out from behind the draperies and grab her. Kristen sighed, dutifully trying to stifle her

disgust at her mother’s weakness. Lord knew the woman had been through enough in her life. It was probably expecting a little too much from her, but Kristen wished she’d show some backbone. The months of the tablecloth-covered disappearing routine had been bad enough. But there wasn’t anything here to be afraid of – she was safe now. Why couldn’t she see that?

“What do you need, Mother?” Kristen asked again, her tone softening. That small change must have been sufficient, because Rachel came all the way into the room and looked her daughter in the eye. “Someone’s here, Kristen. I saw a car come up the driveway through the window.” Kristen’s heart leapt. “Is it John?”
Her mother’s brow furrowed. “I don’t think so…” Rachel said, her half-veil fluttering with every breath. She darted a glance toward the door before making her way to the foot of the stairs. “I’m going up to my room.”
Kristen strode quickly into the foyer and grabbed her mother’s arm, determined to bolster the woman’s courage whether she wanted it or not. “No, Mother. Stay here and see who it is. You need to meet more of my friends, anyway.”
Rachel tossed her daughter a look that clearly said Like you have all that many but made no verbal protest. She tugged at her arm ineffectually; Kristen dragged her over to the door. The bell obliged them by chiming, announcing their visitor. Kristen opened the door and pulled her mother into view, an action which distracted her from actually identifying her guest. Her mother’s gasp caused her to look up. Marlena stood framed in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest, a determined expression on her face. “Hello, Kristen.”

***
“Um, John? John? Are you okay?” John started with surprise when Carrie’s tentative voice finally penetrated his haze of memory. He whirled to find Sami and Carrie standing in the front doorway staring at him quizzically. He waved a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Thanks for meeting me here.”
Sami took two steps into the living room; then her gaze caught on the suitcase on the floor. She raised her eyebrows. “Going somewhere?” He nodded. “Yes. That’s what I need to talk to the two of you about.”

He gestured to the couch and they seated themselves, a good cushion and a half apart, their eyes never leaving his face. He sighed and rubbed his forehead, unsure of where to begin. “I guess you two noticed how Doc…reacted…to Kristen’s appearance at the Pub on Christmas.”

Sami scowled and nodded. “What was Kristen *doing* there, anyway?” He shrugged, unsure how to answer her question, as he’d been asking himself the same thing, to no avail. “Well, Brady and Belle are very important to her…” Sami rolled her eyes but didn’t reply. Carrie darted a glance toward her sister, then turned back to John. “We saw her run up the stairs, yes. And we saw you hustle Kristen out of the Pub as fast as you could.” John grimaced guiltily. “*And* we saw Marlena refuse to talk to you when you got back.” He nodded and lowered his eyes. “Have you spoken to her since then?”
He shook his head tiredly. “Not really. Not about anything important.” He looked down at them. “I think seeing Kristen on Christmas reminded Marlena that she would always be a part of my life…because of the baby. I’m not sure Doc ever really considered that before – and what it would mean to us if we were together.”
Sami watched him closely, her expression unreadable. “And you’re saying Mom wanted the two of you to be together?” He looked away. “She did,” he said softly, sadly. “Before…”
Carrie stood up from the couch and reached for his arm. “I’m sure she still feels that way, John,” she said urgently. “She’s just had so much new information to deal with the past few days. She just needs a little time to assimilate it, that’s all.”
Sami crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the cushions, a small frown on her face. “At least Mom knows everything now. And she *is* handling it just fine, in spite of what Mike and Laura thought would happen.”
Carrie turned toward her, eyes flashing. “That doesn’t mean you had the right to leave all those little *clues* around! She wasn’t supposed to find out the truth until the doctors gave the okay. But you went and risked her health for a little revenge!”
Sami scowled at her. “I told you I didn’t leave the photo album out. *And* I had nothing to do with the wedding announcement, either. Think about it, Carrie-” she said, her lip curling derisively, “Why would

*I* keep a newspaper with John and Kristen’s wedding announcement? I didn’t even go to the ceremony!”

“You did it to hurt John and Marlena,” Carrie shot back angrily. “You’d do anything in your power to hurt them, just like you always have. Because you have no capacity to forgive anyone, *ever*! Because you don’t care about anyone but yourself!”
Sami shot up from the couch. “That’s *not* true! I would never deliberately hurt Mom that way.” She took a deep breath, her face reddening with anger. “Not that I give a damn what *you* think, anyway. But you’d better stop trying to convince people that I had something to do with this, or you’re going to regret it!”
John held up his hand. “Stop it, you two. I mean it. Stop!” They looked at each other, then down at the floor. John turned to Carrie. “I believe Sami, Carrie.” She looked up and opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off before she could say a word. “I *believe* her.” Sami glanced at him with fleeting surprise and gratitude. He gave her a small smile. “I think you’re right about one thing, however, Carrie. Marlena does need time…*and* she needs space. And I’m going to give it to her.”
Sami looked pointedly at his bag. “I guess that’s where the suitcase comes in,” she concluded, raising a brow. “Yes. I have some business I need to take care of in Italy.” He smiled ruefully. “What with one thing and another I’ve really let a lot slide in the past year, businesswise. It’s not really that much of a problem with regard to Titan – luckily, Vic’s got a great management team in place or the company would be in the dumpster what with all of Kate and Vivian’s antics. Both the Horton Center and the hospital run pretty smoothly without my input as well. *And*, as much as I hate to admit it, Lawrence is pretty damn good at running Alamain Industries without any help from me. But Toscano and the Toscano Foundation really need some of my attention. We have some decisions that need to be made very soon. And I can probably make them better from Italy.”
They were silent for a moment. Carrie watched him solemnly, her eyes sad. “And Isabella’s there,” she said finally. He nodded fractionally and closed his eyes. “And Isabella’s there…” He sighed. “It may sound crazy to the two of you, but it makes me feel better to talk to her. Here in Salem I just look up at her star to feel closer to her. But

she’s buried in Naples…and sometimes I need to go there, too.” Carrie squeezed his arm. “She would want you to be with Marlena, you know. She as much as said so in the videotape she left behind.” Sami shifted uncomfortably on the couch, remembering that her parents had still been married when Isabella died. But she said nothing.

John opened his eyes and smiled down at them. “Maybe you’re right…maybe she did want that. But what Izzy B. wanted doesn’t matter right now…Neither does what *I* want. All that really matters is what Doc wants. And I think I need to leave her alone to let her decide what that is.” He took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. “*So*…I wanted to make sure I could count on the two of you to give her a hand with the kids while I’m gone. I’ve already explained to them that Daddy has to go on a business trip, but that they’ll be staying here with Mommy and Mrs. Naughton. Doc is almost completely recovered but she still tires pretty easily, so I want the two of you to keep an eye on her for me. Can you do that?”
They nodded. “Does Mom know you’re going yet?” Sami asked. He grimaced. “I called the Pub this morning. She didn’t want to talk to me, which convinced me I made the right decision about this. I told Shawn this afternoon and let Kate know over at Titan. I’ll try your mom from the phone on the plane, but if I don’t get hold of her, Shawn will tell her.”
They nodded again. Carrie reached over and enveloped him in a hug. “Are you sure you have to go tonight, John?” she asked in a hopeful voice. “It’s New Year’s Eve. Maybe you should stick around and give Marlena a kiss at midnight. It’s supposed to mean you’ll be together in the coming year.” John squeezed Carrie and smiled at Sami over her head. Sami rolled her eyes and bit back a sudden laugh. “I’m sorry, Carrie, but I really think it’s best if I go tonight.
Carrie nodded against his shoulder. “I understand, John. But remember, we’ll miss you. Hurry back.” He closed his eyes and held her close. We’ll see, Carrie…We’ll see. He finally released her, dropping a kiss on her forehead. “The kids are upstairs. Can you stay with them until Doc comes?” Carrie and Sami looked at each other, considered it for a moment, then nodded in unison. He picked up the suitcase and walked toward the door, pausing on the front step to look

back into the house at the two young women watching him. “I love you

two,” he said quietly. “Take care of yourselves, and your mother.” And
then he was gone.
***
“Marlena!” Kristen and Rachel both exclaimed her name in unison in identical shocked tones. She smiled a little at how ridiculous they sounded. “Yes, it’s me.” She turned a polite inquiring eye on Rachel. “Hello. Do I know you?”
Kristen swallowed nervously. This scenario hadn’t occurred to her in all her wildest imaginings. Marlena had looked so devastated, defeated…*scared* on Christmas Day that Kristen had believed she had her on the run. But Marlena certainly didn’t look it now. She looked…determined.
Marlena gave her an odd look, and Kristen realized she’d been staring. “Oh, I’m sorry, Marlena. This is my mother, Rachel Blake. You and she were…friends, before your kidnapping.”
Marlena’s brows drew together. “Really?” She smiled at Rachel. “I’m sorry. You might have heard – I’m having a little memory trouble.” She reached out and clasped Rachel’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you, *again*.”
“Yes…” Rachel said in a quiet voice, as she flicked a nervous glance toward her daughter. She looked back at Marlena, a glimmer of defiance in her eyes. “I would like to apologize to you, Marlena, for what Stefano did to you. If it weren’t for your friendship to me, he never would have been able to kidnap you.” Marlena raised an inquiring brow, so Rachel continued, “You were taking me to San Francisco…” she raised a tentative hand to her veil-covered cheek, “…to have reconstructive surgery. My daughter couldn’t fly with me because of her difficult pregnancy, so you offered to come, and Stefano hijacked the plane.” Marlena flinched slightly at the mention of Kristen’s pregnancy, but she offered Rachel a reassuring smile and squeezed her hand. Kristen noted the small chink in her adversary’s armor and smiled inwardly. Good!
“Stefano’s obsessions are hardly *your* fault, Rachel. He has tormented my family for many years, for reasons that came into being long ago. Don’t blame yourself,” Marlena urged. Rachel nodded and lowered her eyes. “Thank you for that…It was nice to see you again,

Marlena. I was just going upstairs to my room.” Marlena nodded and released her hand. Rachel shot her daughter a dark look before slowly making her way up the stairs. Kristen and Marlena watched her until she reached the landing and disappeared. Then they turned and stared at one another.

“I suppose you’re wondering why I’m here,” Marlena offered, finally. Kristen shrugged and waved a hand toward the living room. “I think I can probably guess the answer to that. Come on in.”
Marlena stepped through the doorway, then stopped short at the sight of the half-assembled crib. Kristen smiled maliciously from behind her. “John’s been trying to put that thing together for weeks,” she laughed lightly. “I think the instructions were written for Japanese people with mechanical engineering degrees…but I’m sure we’ll eventually figure it out.”
Marlena nodded mechanically, then wrenched her gaze from the crib to the plastic tacked over the broken windows of the French doors. “Did you have an accident?”
Kristen’s eyes darkened with memory. “An accident…yes. But everything will be back the way it was very soon.” Her voice held an odd note that caused Marlena to turn and look at her. They both regarded each other silently for a moment.
Finally, Marlena offered her a wan smile. “Well, this is awkward, isn’t it?” Kristen managed a rather fake-looking smile in return. “Awkward, yes.” She rubbed her swollen belly, nodding in satisfaction when the other woman’s gaze was drawn down to it. Marlena turned away abruptly and found herself facing the newly- reinstated chess set on the sideboard. She visibly shuddered before reaching a tentative hand out to touch one of the pieces. “Stefano’s?” she asked, in a strangled tone Kristen had never heard from her before…a combination of vicious hatred and bitter fear. “Yes, it was his,” she replied in a quiet voice. Marlena closed her eyes in pained regret. “I can’t believe I didn’t kill him,” she murmured to herself. “I thought I’d finally rid my family of him for good.”
“You *intended* to murder him?” Kristen asked incredulously. The *perfect* Dr. Marlena Evans? The epitome of forgiveness and compassion? It was almost funny…and a little bit frightening.
Marlena looked down at the chess piece in her hand. “Yes…” Her

voice hardened. “I’m just sorry I didn’t succeed.”

She means it! Kristen thought, vaguely shocked. She coughed uncomfortably. “Well, John thinks you might have, this last time. He thinks we all might not have to worry about Stefano anymore.” Marlena turned and regarded her quizzically. “Do *you* worry about Stefano?” Kristen nodded, still rubbing her stomach. “Of course I do. He’s a very dangerous man.”
Marlena set the chess piece down carefully on an open black square and cocked her head thoughtfully. “Yes, he is…but John said he was your father. Why would *you* be afraid of him?”
Kristen smiled softly. “Because I’m in love with his greatest enemy in the entire world, *and* I’m having his child…and Stefano *isn’t* a very forgiving man.”
Marlena looked away and took a deep breath. “That’s what I want to talk to you about. You and John, I mean. Though you probably figured that out already.” Kristen nodded. “To tell you the truth, I had.” She jerked a thumb toward the kitchen. “Would you like some tea? I could ring Aliana to bring us some.”
Marlena shook her head as she sank down on the couch. “No, thank you…People have been offering me tea ever since I woke up in that hospital bed. I think I’ve drunk enough tea for a lifetime.” Kristen smiled as she seated herself next to Marlena. “Believe me, I understand. Especially now that I seem to spend half my time in the bathroom.”
Marlena looked down at her hands clenched in her lap. “I understand…” She managed a small smile. “You should try it with twins.” Kristen smoothed her dress over her stomach. “Maybe next time I will.” Marlena’s head snapped up and she speared Kristen with a piercing glance. “Next time…with *John*, you mean?” Kristen studied her protruding belly. “I didn’t say that, Marlena,” she replied in a mild tone.”
“No,” Marlena agreed in a similar tone. “But that’s what you meant, isn’t it, Kristen?” Kristen didn’t reply. “You haven’t given up on John, have you? Even though he ended your engagement.” She looked pointedly at the large diamond still present on Kristen’s finger.
Kristen held her hand out in front of her and studied her ring. “You have to understand something, Marlena,” she replied softly. “John and

I have been involved for a very long time. We’ve been through a lot…overcome a lot just to be together. We survived everything that Stefano threw at us. We survived John finding out that he was a priest. We survived Tony’s attempt to frame John for murder…and the doubts I held about him for a *very* brief time.” She smiled tenderly at the ring on her hand. “I have a great deal of faith in the strength of the love between us. It’s the kind of love that never dies.”

Marlena’s convulsive grip on her knees was almost painful. “Yet he ended your engagement…” Kristen rested her hands on her stomach. “I know he did…but he had his reasons for that. And I understand them.” “You do?” Marlena deadpanned dryly.
Kristen nodded. “Of course. Sometimes I think I understand John better than he understands himself.” She offered Marlena a soft smile. “I understand what the Brady family means to him, Marlena. Shawn and Caroline, Bo, Kim, Kayla, the kids…you.” She nodded to emphasize her point. “Yes, Marlena, I understand how much *you* mean to him, that your happiness and well-being are incredibly important to him.” She took a deep breath. “And I understand *why*…” Marlena’s gaze was unblinking. “What do you mean, *why*?” Kristen cocked her head and gave Marlena a sympathetic smile. “John believes he destroyed your life, Marlena. And every day of his life since Roman left you…every day since Roman found out about your affair, actually…he has regretted the pain he caused you. And he’s done everything in his power to keep you from being hurt again. No matter what the cost.”
“The cost being his engagement to you?” Kristen nodded, still smiling faintly. “Yes. But I know he’ll realize soon that this isn’t the way to help you. And then we’ll be together, just like we planned.” She bit her lip and shot Marlena a sympathetic glance. “I really don’t mean to hurt your feelings Marlena, but I’ve always felt that honesty is the best policy. I was never comfortable with the charade that everyone enacted when you woke up thinking John was Roman. *I* think we should have been honest with you from the beginning.”
Marlena wrung her hands with frustration. “They were trying to *protect* me!” “Well, it didn’t work, did it? It didn’t protect you and you *have* been hurt. I saw your face on Christmas. I know what kind of pain you’re in.”

Marlena rubbed her forehead wearily. “I don’t think this has been easy on anyone.” She looked over at Kristen. “Especially you, in your condition.”

“Oh, I’ll be all right,” Kristen said, patting her stomach contentedly. “I’ve got my mother here living with me, and my brother is really excited about being an uncle. And no matter what’s going on between *us*, I know that John will always be here for the baby.”
Marlena stared off into the distance, her voice faraway. “Yes…he’s always there for *all* of his kids. No matter what.” She sent Kristen a distracted smile. “I’m so glad he’s still close to Carrie, Eric, and Sami, even though he’s not their biological father. And especially since Roman isn’t here himself.”
Kristen rearranged herself on the couch, awkwardly trying to position a pillow behind her back. She eyed Marlena questioningly. “You sound like that surprises you.” Marlena placed her hands carefully on her knees and smoothed the wrinkles out of her pants. “I suppose it does, actually. But then, a lot of things surprise me about what a lot of people did during the time I’ve forgotten. Not just Roman and John…but me, too.”
Kristen’s brow furrowed. “You?” Marlena nodded. “I made a lot of…very hard to understand decisions after I escaped from…your father.” Kristen lowered her eyes. “After I came back and found out that John wasn’t really Roman and we weren’t actually married. It seems like out of all the possible choices I could have made, I managed to make the least…*workable* ones.” She shook her head. “I guess I don’t really understand anything I did back then.” She set her jaw. “But I’m determined not to make the same mistakes again. And that means getting everything out in the open this time.” She looked at Kristen. “That’s why I came to see you.”
Kristen shrugged. “Well, I’ve been as honest with you as it’s possible for me to be.” Marlena nodded. “I appreciate that. And if you’d like, I’d be glad to return the favor.” Kristen took a deep breath and nodded. “All right, then…” Marlena bit her lip and looked down at her lap, as if trying to decide how to begin. “You…talked about the deep love between you and John. You called it the kind of love that never dies.” Kristen nodded. “I was thinking that that was the perfect way to describe the love between John and myself.” Kristen began to shake

her head in disagreement but Marlena held up a hand to silence her. “No, let me finish…” She gave Kristen a small smile. “I’m not doubting that John loved you, Kristen. I know that he could never make the kind of commitment to someone that he made to you without feeling a great deal for her.” She looked back down at her hands. “But I’m not quite sure that I can subscribe to your interpretation of John’s recent actions.”

Kristen cocked her head to the side and asked, “What do you mean?” “I know John,” Marlena stated firmly. “I know him *so* well. And he doesn’t lie to me.” She waved a hand in dismissal. “Disregarding the recent past, I mean, because he was truly doing that to protect me…But he doesn’t lie to me about his feelings.” She looked up at Kristen. “He never has.”
Kristen leaned forward and said intensely, “But if you are *subscribing* to John’s interpretation of the not-so-recent past – meaning last spring

– then he has basically admitted that he *did* lie to you. That is, if you believe that he loved you then and just didn’t tell you.”
Marlena’s fists clenched. “Again, to *protect* me.” Kristen shook her head. “I don’t buy it, Marlena. You’re not that fragile…and neither am I. And you’re right – John is a very honest man.”
Marlena stood up, crossed her arms over her chest and paced toward the fireplace. “This is a circular argument, Kristen. If John is honest, then he’s being honest now about the reasons he broke up with you.”
“Well, maybe his protectiveness has overcome his honesty since your shooting,” Kristen argued in a reasonable tone. Marlena swung back toward her, a hint of desperation showing in her eyes. “Or maybe that’s what happened last spring.” Kristen shook her head implacably. “I don’t believe that, Marlena.”
Marlena looked down at her feet. “I don’t know if I do, either,” she said finally in a muffled, miserable voice. YES!!! Kristen thought, desperately trying to keep her sense of triumph from showing. She managed to wipe the glee from her face by the time Marlena looked up at her again. Marlena offered her a wan, crooked smile. “I suppose it all comes down to what we believe, doesn’t it? And I feel like I’m playing with only half a deck, because I can’t remember anything that happened.”
Kristen levered herself up from the couch and walked toward Marlena,

stopping a mere foot in front of her and looking her straight in the eye. “But I was here,” she pointed out. “And I remember *everything*.” Marlena swallowed. “I know,” she allowed finally. They stared at each other for a moment in a mental tug of wills that only ended with the interrupting chime of the grandfather clock. Marlena glanced toward it. “Is that the correct time?” she asked. Kristen nodded. “I have to get back before everyone starts worrying about me.” Kristen nodded again and stepped back to allow her to pass by, though not quite far enough that Marlena could avoid brushing against her protruding stomach. Marlena tossed her a small smile over her shoulder as she walked toward the door. She opened it, then turned back to face the woman still standing in the middle of the living room. “Thanks for the talk, Kristen. It was very…*enlightening*.”

Kristen smiled. “Yes, it was, wasn’t it?…Goodbye, Marlena.” Marlena nodded. “Goodbye, Kristen. Tell your mother it was nice to meet her.” She gave Kristen one last hard look before slipping out the door. It shut with a click.
Kristen turned back toward the fireplace, hugging herself with glee. She raised one arm and pumped it in a gesture of triumph. “YES!!!!!” ***
John shut his celphone with a resounding *snap* and gazed out the window on the side of the airplane. Dammit, she’s not at the Pub, the house…not even the hospital. Where the hell did she go? And why did I forget to give her her celphone back? He hadn’t really been looking forward to telling Marlena about his trip – but he felt even less comfortable with her finding out about it from Shawn. “Where are you, Doc?” he asked aloud, tossing the phone into a chair in frustration.
“I’m here, John,” Marlena said. He turned to see her standing in the
doorway, arms crossed, a guarded expression on her face. “I’m right
here.”
Chapter 27
John stared at Marlena. He could feel his heart pounding simply at the sight of her as she stood framed in the doorway to the main lounge of the jet, her arms crossed over her chest, her hair dripping rainwater into her eyes from the thunderstorm that had begun a half an hour before. Self-consciously, she reached up and pushed the wavy gold strands back from her face and rubbed the dripping water from her

cheeks. Tiny rivulets of moisture trailed down her neck and disappeared down the V-neck of her rain-flecked pink silk blouse, barely visible underneath the flaps of her dark blue overcoat. An uncomfortable heat stole through his limbs. She looks so beautiful, John thought longingly. But then, she always does. He swallowed hard. “Hey, Doc.”

She managed a small smile through chattering teeth. Her cheeks were red with cold. “Hello, John.” She glanced expectantly around the cabin of the spacious airplane and pursed her lips in a silent appreciative whistle. “Nice plane.” He was about to make a witty reply when her gaze came to rest on the light grey leather sofa on the aft side, and he was suddenly overcome with memories of making love to her on that sofa almost four years ago. Memories of white-hot incredible passion…Memories of conceiving Belle…
He coughed uncomfortably. “Thanks…I bought it from Victor a few years back. Traded him for it, actually. I gave him a new plane of this same model in exchange for this one.”
Her brow furrowed in puzzlement as she wrapped her arms more tightly around herself in a futile attempt to keep warm. “That doesn’t make very much sense, John. Surely the new one was worth more.”
John suddenly smiled. “Actually, it wasn’t worth nearly as much…this aircraft has *sentimental* value.” She smiled back at him, confused by his words, but warmed by the delight on his face. They were silent for a few moments, until John noticed her increasingly violent shivering. “Oh, God, Doc, I’m sorry. You must be freezing!” He opened one of the drawers at the base of the sofa and extracted a heavy blanket. “Here, take off your coat and put this around you. Are your clothes wet?”
She shook her head, sending droplets of moisture careening about the cabin. “Just my coat and my hair.” A squishing noise sounded in the cabin as she came toward him to take the blanket, shrugging out of her coat as she walked. She made a face. “And my shoes.” She looked mournfully down at them. “I think they’re ruined. I hope I didn’t like them very much.”
John choked back a laugh as he wrapped the blanket around her shoulders. He could smell a hint of flowers from her perfume and her shampoo, intertwined with the clean pure smell of rain and cold. He

held the two ends of the blanket together in front of her, his arm partly wrapped around her chest. “Here you go.” Marlena made no move to take the ends of the blanket. She leaned back into his chest and pulled his other arm around her waist. He rested his chin on top of her head and closed his eyes. They stood silently for a moment.

“Why are you leaving, John?” she finally asked in a quiet voice. He didn’t open his eyes as he answered her question with one of his own. “How did you find out I was here, Doc? I tried to call you at the house and the Pub. No one had seen you for hours.”
She craned her neck to look up at him. “I’m sorry, John. I hope you weren’t worried. I just had something I needed to do. But why didn’t you call Frank? He followed me all afternoon.” John smiled, embarrassed. “I forgot about Frank, actually. I had a lot on my mind today.” He fell silent and rubbed his face in her fragrant hair, overwhelmed by a sudden, unexplainable feeling of contentment.
She settled back against his chest. The combined warmth of the blanket and John’s arms had calmed her violent shivering. A comfortable lassitude stole over her limbs, and a ball of heat uncurled in her stomach. “Sami told me where you were, John,” she murmured, her mind on the muscled chest pressed against her back. “She said you’d just called to tell them about the weather delay. I figured I could catch you before you took off.” She felt him nod against her head.
Slowly he turned her in his arms until they were facing one another. “Why did you want to catch me, Doc?” he asked quietly. She stared up into his eyes, mesmerized by the heat in them. He is *so* beautiful, she thought distractedly, her gaze roaming over his beloved features. He raised an eyebrow at her continued silence. I love it when he does that…Oh! What was the question? She bit her lip in concentration.
Oh, yes, “I went to see Kristen today,” she blurted finally. The shock of her statement caused him to release his hold on her, and the blanket slipped to the floor. “Sorry, Doc,” he muttered as he bent down to retrieve it. He draped it over her shoulders and gestured toward the couch. She shot him a quizzical glance, wondering why his face had reddened at the sight of a piece of furniture. She nodded toward him as she sat down, and he seated himself gingerly next on an adjacent cushion, leaving a good foot and a half of expensive leather between them. John took a deep breath. “Why did you go see Kristen, Doc?”

Marlena pulled the blanket more tightly around her shoulders; the shivering had returned immediately after he’d released his hold on her. She reached up and tucked a damp tendril of hair behind her ear. “I had to see her, John. I had to talk to her, to see if I could make any sense of this whole mess. I can’t stand this…this *limbo* we’ve all been living in. I thought if I talked to her…Oh, I don’t know.” She shook her head and closed her eyes, leaning back against the cushions. “It was a very interesting conversation, though.”

John was quiet for a moment. “How so?” Marlena turned to look him in the eye. “She thinks you’re going to get back together,” she stated flatly. She was heartened by the lack of any agreement in his eyes; he merely drew his brows together in confusion. “Why would she think that?” he asked.
Marlena raised her eyebrows. “Because apparently the two of you have overcome more obstacles than Romeo and Juliet. She said you love is…the kind that never dies.” Try as she might, she couldn’t keep the sarcasm from her voice. The answering ironic quirk of John’s lip cheered her. Then he glanced away, murmuring, “I thought I made it clear to her…”
Marlena reached a tentative hand toward John’s knee. The muscles contracted under her hand, and she saw John swallow thickly, but he didn’t try to move her hand away. “Made what clear, John?” she asked, allowing herself a small smile as her hand inched upward.
John swallowed again and covered her hand with his own. He stared off into the distance, as if seeing something other than the elegantly appointed interior of the plane. “Did she mention any…*obstacles* in particular?”
Marlena shrugged, puzzled. “Um, yes, actually. Stefano, you being a priest, Tony killing himself…*etcetera*, I suppose.”
John laughed hollowly. “Yes, etcetera…” He was silent for a moment, rubbing his thumb across the back of her hand, an action that sent delicious ripples of desire shooting up her arm. She barely heard him as he continued thoughtfully, “She’s not truly wrong about that list, I guess. I think I just look at the nature of the obstacles a little differently.”
Marlena inched closer to him on the couch, drawn by the heat she could feel radiating from his body. “What do you mean?”

His voice took on a faraway tone. “You know, I saved her life the day I met her, Doc.” He chuckled painfully. “She was grateful for it, until I told her my name. Then she acted like I was Attila the Hun or something. I’d never known anyone to hate me with such virulence when I didn’t even *know* them. I suppose I found it a little intriguing.” He glanced at her. “You know, a mystery to be unraveled. A puzzle to be solved.” She nodded fractionally. “Of course, she felt that way because of all the things Stefano had told her about me before we met. It took a long time before she would accept that I wasn’t what he’d said.” He looked down at their intertwined hands. “We probably never would have even gotten involved if it weren’t for Alice. She was in full matchmaking mode at that point. I used to wonder sometimes if she hadn’t guessed that I was pining over you and not just getting over Isabella.” He squeezed her hand. “I know you didn’t tell her about us. The only people who knew were Sami, Kim and Victor. But I always thought that perhaps she suspected, and setting me up with Kristen was her way of helping us out.” He shook his head. “I don’t really know. I don’t suppose it really matters now.”

“What did Alice do?” Marlena asked softly. He compressed his lips, sighing. “She made us co-directors of the Horton Center, to make sure we came in daily contact.” He shrugged again and his lip quirked. “I guess after repeated exposure, I seem less and less like an evil psychotic bastard.” She smiled and nodded her agreement. He took another deep breath. “So we…got together…but she didn’t want us to tell anyone about it.” Marlena raised an eyebrow. “I know, I know, I should have known something was wrong then…I *did* know something was wrong, but I had no idea the secret she was carrying was as big as it was. I thought she was in trouble and needed me to help her. Little did I know…”
“What happened?” Marlena asked, wondering if he could hear the bitterness in his own voice. He picked up her hand and held it both of his as if unconsciously drawing support from her touch. “Well, one day I met my secret girlfriend’s father. And it was *Stefano*.” “Oh, John…”
His face was bleak. “Yeah, you could have knocked me over with a feather.” He turned to look at Marlena. “She *defended* him, Doc. I bared my *soul* to her, told her everything that bastard did to me, to you, to the entire Brady family and she sat there and nodded and

made sympathetic noises. And then the minute he shows up she acts like I made it all up or something! The defining event of my life…the most horrible thing anyone had ever done to me…and she didn’t believe it!” He stopped short to catch his breath, frowning, surprised by the depth of anger he still felt. He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “And I didn’t know if our relationship was real or part of some sick plan of Stefano’s.” He glanced at Marlena. “You and Roman encouraged me not to give up on her, in case she truly was unaware of Stefano’s evil. So I went to talk to her on Smith Island, and that’s when you gave birth to Belle.” Marlena nodded, eyes shining. He smiled at her in remembrance of that special day, but then his face darkened as he remembered what happened after it. He looked back down at their entwined hands. “And then I found out she’d been engaged to Tony all along.”

Marlena squeezed his hand. “She was engaged to Tony when she got involved with you?” He nodded, jaw clenched. “I got past that, too, though, by convincing myself that she never really loved him…and that she was only marrying him because it was what Stefano wanted. So I kept trying to prove to her what an evil man Stefano was.” He sighed. “You can guess how easy *that* was. The man’s as slippery as an eel. But I was making headway, so he decided he needed to derail me completely.” He closed his eyes in pain. “Somehow he had guessed that Sami had a secret. He stole her diary and found out about our affair…and about Belle’s parentage.” Marlena drew in a sharp breath. He nodded. “He showed up at Belle’s baptism ready to tell the world, so you confessed to Roman in front of everyone…and I admitted that I was the one you had the affair with.”
He opened his eyes to look at her. She seemed sad but not shocked; in fact, her lip quirked with unconscious humor. “Who else would it have been?”
He smiled. “No one else in the world, Doc.” He looked back down at his lap. “Kristen decided that this proved Stefano had been right about my *character* all along, and told me she was going to go through with the marriage. Roman and the Bradys decided I was Public Enemy Number One. And Roman asked you to move out…” He stole a glance at her, but she didn’t seem upset; her brow was furrowed in puzzlement.

Marlena looked over at him, then asked hesitantly, “So Kristen decided us having an affair meant you were as bad as Stefano said…even though she slept with you while she was engaged to Tony? And lied to you about almost *everything*?”

He was touched by the outraged compassion in her voice. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” She turned toward the window. “Sounds a bit hypocritical to *me*,” she muttered under her breath.
“I guess it does,” he replied, wondering absently why that hadn’t occurred to him at the time. “Anyway, I kept trying to prove what kind of man Stefano was. The DA had had to drop all the charges against him for his previous crimes because of tainted evidence and a lot of legal maneuvering on Peter’s part. So Abe took the guards off him, and he was free to wander around Salem wreaking havoc wherever he went. He made some…threats against Belle…” Marlena’s head snapped around, her eyes wide with fear. “We thought he meant to kidnap her or something, the way he did Carrie and the twinners. But he was really threatening us with the revelation about Belle’s parentage, only we couldn’t possibly have known that at the time. He tormented you about her one night in a restaurant and Kristen saw it…that’s when she started to waver about marrying Tony. And Roman and Bo were closing in on him, so he decided to fake his death again on the night of the wedding, in order to inspire Kristen to grant his ‘last wish’. But first he went to Roman and told him the truth about Belle.”

Marlena closed her eyes, pained. “That must have been *horrible* for him.” “Yes,” he agreed softly. “It was. In fact, we actually had a chance to arrest Stefano that night, but Roman blew it off because it meant working with me. He just went ballistic, not that I could blame him. So I decided to stop Stefano on my own…He was trying to make his getaway, and I shot out his tires. The car exploded and went down a ravine, and Stefano was presumed dead.” He looked over at her, irony shining from his eyes. “Though no body was found.”
Marlena sighed. “Is one *ever*? Don’t tell me everyone actually *believed* he was dead?” John nodded. “Yup. Though for most of them I think it was more a case of wishful thinking. But Kristen certainly believed it. She called me a murderer.” He said it lightly, but Marlena heard the deep pain underneath. “I’m so sorry, John.”
He squeezed her hand gratefully. “Thanks, Doc.” He sighed. “Anyway,

I decided to look for him on my own.” He shot her a swift apologetic glance. “Partly to prove I was right to Kristen, but mostly because I wanted some answers about my past. And he kept playing his games with me, sending me little clues to lead me on.” She frowned. “That sounds like a trap, John.”

He nodded. “Oh, it was, Doc. It was. But I thought I could beat him because I had an advantage.” He smiled grimly, remembering. “You believed me when I told you he was alive and taunting me; you were the only one who did, in fact. You agreed to help me by hypnotizing me. And Roman helped by remembering a location from his own captivity. So I got to Stefano before he expected me, and I almost *won*, Doc.” He smiled viciously at the memory. “I had him tied to a chair with a gun to his head. And it felt so *great* to have him at my mercy, the way he so often had me and so many others.”
“What happened?” Marlena asked quietly John closed his eyes in pain. “He had kidnapped you, Doc. He let me see you on a television monitor, tied up and unconscious, and he threatened to kill you if I didn’t let him go. And I knew he meant it…so I did.”
Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, John…” John held their clasped hands against his chest and met her gaze with one so intense she felt her breath catch in her throat. “I would have done *anything* for you, Doc. And you would have done anything for me. Stefano knew that. He counted on it. And he…used it against us.” He lowered his eyes, dreading her next question, which came just as he’d feared. “How?” she asked.
He sighed. “I had to agree to being drugged again to keep him from starving you.” He winced at her horrified gasp. “And you had to do…certain things…to keep me alive with my memory intact.” He tensed, waiting. “What *certain things*?” she asked hesitantly.
He closed his eyes. “Well, he forced you to call Roman and tell him you were having a *wonderful* time with me in New Orleans, knowing that would probably be the blow that would finally end your marriage.” “And Roman believed it,” she replied softly. It was not a question. “What else?”
“He forced you to play chess with him to bargain for my freedom from the drugs…” His voice trailed off. She squeezed his hand, waiting patiently for him to finish. Finally, he continued, “And you let him touch

you in order to get the keys to my chains away from him.” Her voice was faint. “*Touch* me?”

He squeezed her hand in return. “It didn’t go that far, Doc, because you drugged his wine beforehand. But it nearly drove me crazy to see his hands on you…” She turned a questioning gaze on him. “Oh, yes, Doc, he had a *special* monitor set up for me so I could watch.” Marlena looked nauseated. “That’s disgusting.”
John nodded wearily. “We didn’t realize it at the time, but it was the beginning of something even worse. He didn’t kidnap you this summer because he wanted to torture the Bradys, Doc…though I’m sure that was a welcome fringe benefit. He kidnapped you because he wanted you for himself.” Now she looked positively green. “Really?” she asked faintly.
John nodded again. “He’s obsessed with you. He thinks that he can make you love him somehow, if he could only get the chance.” Marlena raised her eyebrows. “By kidnapping me and taking me from my family? By locking me in a giant cage?” She shook her head in wonder. “It sounds like Stefano is more delusional than ever.” John grimaced. “Well, that’s one way to put it.”
Marlena took a deep breath. “I’m assuming that we escaped somehow, since we’re here. But what exactly happened?” John gently placed her hand on the couch between them and let it go. “Roman found us.” She stared down at her hand, still tingling from the touch of his fingers. “Roman,” she repeated blankly.
“Yes,” he affirmed quietly. “He found us in the basement, on the verge of death from asphyxiation.” She looked up at him, eyes wide. “I don’t think Stefano tried to kill us…he was gone by that point, his plans screwed up by Roman’s suspicion and an ill-timed costume ball. He said he would come back for us after everyone had gone, and take me away to erase my mind again, and you to be his mistress.” The nauseated look was back. “But Roman found our dungeon and pulled us out. And I went after Stefano, but found Hope instead.” She blinked with surprise. “And that’s a *really* long story. I’ll save it for later.” She nodded her agreement. “Anyway, while I was looking for Stefano I ran into Tony and Kristen in the garden. I was standing there in front of them with *shackles* on my wrists, but Kristen still wouldn’t believe me about Stefano. Not until she saw him herself, and knew that he was

alive and had lied to her about it.” He shook his head tiredly. “She found out that same night that Tony had known that Stefano was alive and hadn’t said anything. But Tony was injured – blinded – in the fire that destroyed the house, so she stayed with him anyway.” He reached out and tentatively touched her hand again. “You thought that when Roman found out that we weren’t on some ‘romantic rendezvous’ he might be willing to give your marriage a second chance. But he could see the bond between us that was strengthened by the hell we went through together, and he decided to go through with the divorce.” Marlena lowered her eyes. “You were devastated, Doc. And I felt so responsible.”

She sighed. “It wasn’t your fault, John.” “I don’t know,” he said meditatively. “Maybe if I’d tried a little harder to sever the bond between us. But I didn’t want to…deep down inside I didn’t want to give up anything more between us.” He turned to look at her. “Roman had your love, and your commitment, your hopes and your dreams. And all I had was a tiny piece of your heart that belonged only to me. I didn’t *want* to give that up. And you didn’t…or couldn’t…give it up either.” “Couldn’t,” she stated firmly. She bit her lip. “Is that when he left?”
John nodded. “I tried to give you space to deal with it, and to repair your relationship with Sami. And I was busy trying to get some answers from what little we’d retrieved from the house before it burned. A computer, containing the secrets of my past, encrypted and protected by a password.” Marlena looked over at him. “I assume you broke the code.”
He nodded again. “Yes.” He grinned ruefully. “That’s when we found out I was a priest.” His grin faded. “And Kristen said if that was true, then we could never be together again, because it would mean going against God…”
She nodded shortly. “I see…You know, John, it might not be my place to point this out, but up to that point she doesn’t strike me as having been a particularly *religious* person. Correct me if I’m wrong, but strict Catholicism precludes premarital sex, whether with your fiance *or* your father’s greatest enemy.” He couldn’t help but smile. “You’ve got a point there, Doc.”
She smiled back. “And even if you were a priest once, that doesn’t

mean you could ever return to that life. You’re a different person than the one Stefano captured all those years ago.”

He nodded his agreement. “That’s what *I* said, Doc. That’s what you said, too. And I suppose eventually she came to see our point, because after I was released from my vows, she asked if we could get back together.” Marlena frowned. “What about Tony?”
He ran his hand through his hair. “Kristen found out that he had lied to her about a lot of stuff. He’d regained his eyesight and hadn’t told her, and he’d replaced the birth control pills she’d been taking without his knowledge with placebos.” Marlena raised an eyebrow. “So she was mad at him for discovering her lie and lying to her in turn.” “Essentially.”
She compressed her lips, unimpressed. “So you two got back together.” He hunched his shoulders uncomfortably. “Sort of, Doc. Actually, we decided to wait until she got her annulment from Tony.” She nodded in comprehension. “And that’s when he developed his plan to frame you for his murder.” “Umm-hmm. And Kristen believed it.”
She cocked her head. “For a *very* brief time.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “That’s a direct quote, John.” He pursed his lips, considering. “But not exactly true, Doc. She believed there was a possibility that I had killed Tony from the moment it happened. She just didn’t admit it until she was on the witness stand.” Marlena inhaled sharply. “Yeah, Doc. I’m not sure which bothered me more – that she doubted me, or that she lied about it.” He turned to her and smiled tenderly. “But you never doubted me, Doc. Not for a minute. And you found the evidence to free me at the very last second. You risked everything to save my life. I’ll never forget that.”
She smiled softly. “It was my pleasure, I’m sure.” Her smile faded and she gently tugged her hand free of his. “But then you went back to *her*.”
He ran both hands through his hair, uncomfortable and frustrated. “I didn’t think you loved me anymore, Doc.” She rolled her eyes at him. “No, I knew you loved me, but I didn’t know you loved me *that* way.” He could still see a glimmer of disbelief in her eyes. “I don’t think you understand exactly how much anguish I caused you, Doc. I’m surprised you didn’t hate me for everything you went through because

of me.” “I could never hate you, John.”

He smiled sadly. “I know that, Doc. But it’s a long way from not hating someone to wanting to spend the rest of your life with him. And I wouldn’t risk the closeness we’d forged to ask you for more unless I was positive you wanted to be with me in return. I honestly didn’t think you did, Doc. Even when I think back on it now, I can’t see any of the signs I missed.” His eyebrow quirked. “You’re very good at hiding your feelings, Doc. Almost as good as I am.”
She shrugged. “Don’t ask me to explain *that* Marlena’s behavior, John. No matter how hard I try to understand, nothing she did makes any sense to me.” She looked down at her hands. “But I believe Laura when she says I loved you, and that I kept silent because of the baby.” She pressed her lips together. “What I don’t understand is why you were with her, if you loved me.”
He rubbed his temples and sighed. “I’m not proud of what I did, Marlena,” he finally said tiredly. “I just didn’t want to be alone again. Can you understand that? I’ve lost so much, Doc. I just didn’t want to be alone…” He closed his eyes and bowed his head. His heart stopped when he felt her tentative hand touch his thigh. His shoulders tensed as he braced himself, aware that his future rode on what she said in the next few moments.
He heard the soft rustle of her clothing as she slid over next to him on the couch. “There are worse sins, I suppose,” she murmured finally. John opened his eyes and looked down at her. Her eyes were shimmering with a mixture of pain, compassion and love. She reached up and traced his eyebrows with her fingers. “I understand now,” she said softly. “And I finally know what to believe…” He held his breath. “She didn’t deserve you, John.” He let out his breath and his heart began to beat again. “You deserve someone whose first instinct is to trust you, to believe in you…to support you no matter what. Because you, John Black, are a good, kind, honorable man.” A single tear escaped the corner of her eye and slid slowly down her cheek. “And I love you.”
He groaned and pulled her into his arms, burying his face in her silky hair. “I love you, Doc. I love you so much.” He held her tightly as they rocked back and forth in mingled tears and laughter, each aware that they’d finally come home, safe in each other’s arms.

Chapter 28

Peter was startled when Kristen opened the front door of the mansion and greeted him with a blinding smile. “Krissy?” he asked cautiously, wondering nervously if perhaps she’d finally snapped. “You okay?”
She let go of the doorknob and pirouetted through the foyer, an ungainly penguin in black and white, arms raised in triumph. “Am I okay? Am I *okay*? I’m better than okay, Peter.” She twirled to a halt right in front of him and placed her hands on his shoulders, giving them a hard squeeze. “I’m absolutely, totally, wonderfully *fabulous*!” She pushed away from him in another excited whirl of ecstasy. “Ask me why! Just ask me!”
Peter followed her into the living room, a bemused smile on his face. “Let me guess…it has something to do with John, right?”
She turned around and shot him with an imaginary dart. “Bulls-eye, baby.” She flopped down on the couch, a triumphant smirk on her face. “Guess who came to visit me today?” He sat down beside her and shrugged. “Got me. Ummmm…Santa Claus? The tooth fairy?”
She grinned at him. “Nope.” She steepled her hands on her belly, a derisive curl marring her lips. “Marlena.” She laughed as his eyes widened with surprise.
“Marlena? Marlena came here? To see you?” She licked her lips, nodding. “Yessssss. And let’s just say we had a very *interesting* conversation.” Peter raised an eyebrow. “How so?”
She held up her left hand and studied her engagement ring thoughtfully. “Well, I told her all about the great love that John and I share,” she confided airily. “And then I stomped on all her little illusions…or should I say, *delusions*…about the nature of her relationship with John.” She turned to look at her brother, her eyes sparkling with wicked glee. “I swear, Peter, I almost had her in tears. It was *so* GREAT!” Unable to sit still, she pushed herself up from the couch and began to pace excitedly.
Peter watched her walk back and forth for a moment, an uncertain expression on his face. “That’s great, Krissy,” he said finally, looking back down at his own wedding ring. “I’m really happy for you.” Kristen grimaced in distaste at the note of self-pity in his voice, but Peter didn’t notice. He finally wrenched his gaze from the shiny gold band and looked back up at her. “So it’s all over then? You’ve won?”

She came to a halt, biting her lip thoughtfully, and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not sure,” she allowed finally. “There are still so many things that could go wrong.” She sighed and lowered herself down on the cushion next to him. “I’m just not very good at this, Peter,” she said, snorting ruefully. “I just spent too damn many years as a goody-two-shoes. I need some advice on what to do next…advice from an expert.”

He rubbed his neck, his eyes pained. “Well, don’t look at me, Krissy. My relationship with Jennifer is a total mess, thanks to Jack Deveraux.” Kristen barely managed to contain a derisive snort. Yeah, Peter, like you had *nothing* to do with it at all! “I wasn’t thinking of *you*,” she said finally, wincing at her own insulting tone, but Peter did not seem to notice. “I was thinking of Stefano.”
Peter turned to look at her, wide-eyed. “But Stefano’s dead,” he protested. “Or do you know something that I don’t?” She reclined against the cushions and waved her hand dismissively. “Haven’t you heard the stories, Peter? The Phoenix *always* rises from the ashes.” She met his gaze squarely. “I don’t believe that Father’s dead. I think he’s biding his time before coming back to get his revenge. But if he knew that *we* needed him,” she argued, squeezing his hand, “then he’d be here in a heartbeat.”
Peter sighed. “Fine, whatever.” He tossed her a jaded glance. “So what is it you want *me* to do, then?”
Kristen grinned at him. He’s *so* easy to manipulate. “I want you to find out where he was holding Marlena,” she announced. “I want you to find that giant gilded birdcage, Peter. Because if there *is* any way to trace Stefano, then that’s the place to start.” She looked back down at her engagement ring and added softly, “And then I’ll have everything I want…and Marlena will have *nothing*.” ***

John held Marlena tightly as he rocked back and forth, shaking his head in stunned amazement, unable to believe that he was finally *finally* holding the woman he loved once again. Every inch of his skin was tingling with the awareness of her nearness, sending fizzing, swirling motes of desire racing through his blood. He could smell the lilac scent of her hair, feel the velvety softness of her skin and hear the love aching in her voice as she whispered, “I love you…I love you…I

love you…” over and over again. Slowly he became aware of a growing dampness on the front of his shirt. Alarmed, he tilted her chin up with his finger until he could see her eyes, gleaming diamond-bright with tears. “Sweetheart?” he asked worriedly.

“I’m okay,” she reassured him, chuckling soggily as she wiped at the moisture on his shirtfront. “I promise. These are *happy* tears.”
He laughed and wiped his own eyes with his hand. “I think I’ve got a few of those myself, Doc.” They smiled at each other for a moment. Then he sobered as he gently mopped the tears from her cheeks with the pad of his thumb. “I almost can’t believe this is real…that you still love me and want to be with me…” He glanced around the cabin of the airplane. “And that I found out here, of all places.”
Marlena slid her arms around his waist and he lifted her onto his lap with a smiling groan of desire. “What do you mean, ‘here, of all places’?” she asked, snuggling closer. She felt the vibrating rumble of a laugh deep in his chest, but when she looked up into his eyes, she could see a fleeting glimmer of pain. He shook his head mutely and dropped a kiss on her forehead. She reached up to cup his cheek with her hand. “Does it have something to do with why you bought this aircraft from Victor Kiriakis for *sentimental* reasons?”
He stared down at her for a moment, debating over the wisdom of telling her about that fateful anniversary night almost four years ago. Then he sighed in acceptance. That’s no way to begin again – with me concealing the truth from her.
Marlena eyed him worriedly. Obviously, her question had brought forth memories John did not want to face. She covered his mouth with her hand when he opened it to speak. “No, it’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
He reached up and gently captured her hand with his, kissing each fingertip lightly before bringing them to lay against his chest. “No, Doc…” he said softly. “No, I *want* to tell you. It’s a good memory – the *best*, actually…” His voice trailed off and he sighed. “But it’s painful, too, for both of us.” He lowered his eyes. “Even more for you than for me.”
She tugged her hand free of his and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his head down to kiss him softly, longingly. “You know you can tell me anything, John,” she said seriously, her eyes locked

with his as her fingers toyed with the hair at the base of his neck. “Is it…Does it have something to do with Roman?”

John nodded, leaning forward until his forehead rested against hers. He closed his eyes. “Roman…and Belle. And something that happened in this plane almost four years ago. Something wonderful…and something terrible.”
Marlena could feel the tension emanating from his lean frame, as if he were bracing himself for some unimaginable buffeting. She slowly disengaged her hands from around his neck, pausing to kiss him one more time before easing from his lap and settling back against the cushions. He shot her a grateful look as he pushed up from the couch and stole across the cabin. He stared out one of the portside windows, watching silently as the driving rain etched liquid patterns on the clear plastic. Marlena stayed seated on the couch. He could hear the quiet sussuration of her breathing.
“I was standing right here,” he began softly, “I’d just finished talking on the phone to your answering machine.” He swung round to look at her. “I was telling you goodbye, and not to worry about me…to have a good life and forget about me.” Marlena stared up at him, eyes wide. “You were leaving?”
He nodded. “Me and Brady. We were moving to Italy to live…indefinitely.” She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. “Why?” she asked softly. He turned back to stare into the night. A flash of lightning lit his features through the rain-spattered window, magnifying the water droplets and projecting them on his cheeks in a macabre approximation of giant falling tears. “Because I was in love with you,” he admitted quietly, closing his eyes. “And you were in love with me.”
He heard a sharp intake of breath as comprehension dawned. “And I was married to Roman.” John nodded and bowed his head. “And neither of us wanted to *hurt* Roman,” he replied in a muffled voice. “But I knew that I couldn’t stand to see you…talk to you…be anywhere *near* you and not touch you…So I decided to leave before we did something we’d regret.” Marlena held her hands in her lap, her grip so tight that her knuckles gleamed white in the shadowed cabin. “What happened?” she asked tentatively.
“You came to the plane to stop me, Doc,” John said, a small smile

lighting his features, though he kept his eyes closed. “You came her to tell me that we could figure out some way to…I don’t know. To make it work, I guess…without Brady and me leaving the only home we’d ever known. Or in my case, the only home I remembered.” Marlena absorbed this silently, then repeated, “What happened?”

John finally turned to look at her, his mouth quirking in a sadly ironic grin. He crossed his arms over his chest. “We found out I was right, Doc.” She stared at him and licked her lips, unsure of his meaning. He groaned upon seeing it, imagining that delicate pink tongue…remembering times when she…He shook his head to bring himself out of his heated reverie. It’s this *airplane*, he thought. I can’t be here and not want her…hell, I can’t *breathe* and not want her.
Slowly Marlena rose from the couch and walked toward him, slowing to a halt mere inches away. “You were right about what, John?” she asked softly, reaching up to splay her hands against his chest. She felt his heartbeat quicken in response.
His eyes were dark pools of desire as he stared down at her, hypnotized by the play of the lightning and the shadows over her cheeks. “Right about…,” he whispered as skimmed his hands up her arms to come to rest lightly on her shoulders, “…right about me not being able to be near you and not touch you…”
Her breathing quickened, and all her senses heightened. She could hear the rush of heated blood echoing in her ears, the hushed tapping of raindrops hitting the metal body of the plane magnified a hundredfold, the soft rustle of her blouse as he ran his hands back and forth along her arms…the harsh sound of his breathing that had always signaled the beginning of the most passionate lovemaking she had ever known. She could feel the burning heat of his hands through the thin silk of her shirt, the straining of the thick cords of muscle along his back as he struggled to restrain himself from crushing her in a savage embrace. But seeing, hearing and feeling him…wasn’t enough. She wanted to *taste* him. “Are you still right?” she managed to ask raggedly.
He didn’t reply for a moment, lost in the shadows of her eyes, his mind replaying those moments four years ago over and over in his brain, an aching refrain running underneath: Please, God, let it end differently…Please, God… But the scene always ended the same way.

She disappeared into the rain and lightning, leaving him cold and alone, aware that all he had to give – his heart and his soul, all that he was and had been and could be – was not enough to keep her with him.

Her every sense attuned to him, she saw the flash of pain in his eyes, though it flickered there only a moment. She curled her right hand around his neck, her fingers tangling in the hair at the nape. “What is it, John? What happened?”
He lifted his hand to her cheek, tracing her features in the air scant centimeters from her skin, and she realized he was remembering a scene from four years ago, when she’d stood in front of him, in this cabin, on this plane – another Marlena, and yet not somehow. “You were crying, Doc,” he whispered hoarsely. “…I could never stand to see you cry…” She tilted her head forward until her cheek touched his hand. He flinched slightly as if suddenly jolted from the past into the present by her touch, but then he stroked her skin with shaking fingers, rubbing the salty tracks of her tears from her face.
“Of course I was crying,” she replied softly. “Thinking you were leaving…I felt that way tonight, only it must have been a thousand times worse four years ago, if I believed you were never coming back.”
“You did,” he whispered, bringing his left palm up to cup her other cheek. “Because I wasn’t.” She held herself still between his hands, barely breathing, afraid any movement would break the sensuous spell he had woven between them. “You asked me why it didn’t upset me, too…”
“Why?” It was less than a whisper, a mere exhalation of breath. He leaned forward until their mouths were inches apart, until the words he spoke were both warm breath on her skin and a quiet whisper in her ears. “I said I was past that, Doc,” he murmured, the touch of his fingers sending electricity skittering up her spine. “I said I was free-falling with the idea that I was *never* going to see you again…never going to hear you laugh…” He inhaled deeply and smiled down at her. “…Never going to smell your perfume…” His hands slid down the curve of her neck to rest on her shoulders, his fingers tangling in the collar of her blouse. “…Never going to touch you…” He gripped the collar and pulled her toward him. She stared at him, wide-eyed, totally lost in the

spell he had created with just the barest of touches and the soothing cadence of his voice. And his eyes…his eyes could seduce a saint…

His lips touched hers, barely, and his next words were a kiss in and of themselves. “And that thought was just too much for me, Doc. And I had to touch you…to taste you…” But still he held himself away from her, and she saw something in his eyes that said, It must be you who begins it, this time… She was more than willing.
With a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob, she brought her left hand up to join her right around his neck and pulled him to her, searing their lips together in a carnal kiss that was a blatant act of possession. His arms encircled her, and he crushed her body to his, teasing her mouth open with his tongue to plumb the depths within. The sweet, hot taste of her was nearly his undoing. “Oh, *God*, Doc,” he moaned, when the need for oxygen finally forced them to pause to breathe.
Her eyes gleamed with desire and her breath came in short gasps. “Then what happens?” she demanded, her voice roughened by passion. He managed a hoarse laugh. “Then I ripped off your coat.” Her breathing quickened and she licked her lips. He groaned. She smiled wickedly at the arousing sound. “I’m not wearing a coat, John,” she pointed out, her nimble fingers running through John’s hair, causing shivers to run up and down his spine. “Then what happens?” she asked again, breathless.
His eyes flicked toward the couch, and Marlena suddenly understood why he had blushed when he looked at it earlier. She chuckled, and the low, sexy sound of her laughter made the blood sing in John’s ears. Suddenly she pulled him toward her, and, off-balance, they half-walked, half-fell onto the soft leather cushions. Marlena shifted her legs until she was laying partway underneath him, propped up on her elbows. She could feel the length of him along her leg, hard and strong and throbbing. Her skin felt as though it were on fire. She looked deep into his eyes. “Then what happens?” she whispered.
John slowly swung his leg around to straddle her and reached out to run his hands up and down along her arms, then up toward her neck, once again entwining his fingers in her collar. She closed her eyes and held her breath, waiting, but he didn’t move. Slowly she opened her eyes to meet his gaze. His eyes burned hotly with tiny golden

flames, but the look on his face was touchingly insecure…still questioning. Do you want me? Do you really want *me*? She looked at him, allowing all the love she felt to show on her face as she slowly, deliberately, licked her lips one last time. The infinitesimal flaring of his nostrils told her he’d understood the message, seconds before he tugged hard on the fabric fisted in his hands. The flimsy material gave way, and suddenly the chill air of the cabin wafted over her overheated skin. She lay before him, clad only in a lacy camisole. John sucked in his breath. “Oh, Doc…” he said achingly, “You are *so* beautiful…”

His eyes were hypnotic. “I want to see you,” she murmured thickly. He
nodded slowly as he unknotted his tie in one deft movement, then
pulled his shirt apart, loose white buttons bouncing to the floor to join
her pink ones. His broad, bronzed chest gleamed in the stormy light.
Blindly, she reached for him, unable to bear not touching him for even
one more second. Dimly she registered the laughing surprise and
approval in his eyes, and in the millisecond before his mouth
recaptured hers in a searing kiss, she realized that it must have
happened just this way before…she must have touched him just this
way before…and then she was lost to all thought…given over totally to
feeling…exquisite feeling…hard, hot, pounding, *aching* feeling…and
then she was flying…
***
Sound was the first thing to penetrate the sensual fog that enveloped Marlena as she lay against John’s chest, drowsy and sated. The soft hollow pinging of the rain hitting the airplane. The quiet hiss of the air circulating through the cabin. The low bass rumble of John’s heart beating within his chest, just underneath her ear. She smiled proudly, eyes gleaming, half- lidded; his heartbeat had yet to return to normal.
She brought her hand up to his chest and ran her fingers through the crisp short hairs, swirling them back and forth in figure eights. His skin puckered with goose bumps where she touched it, the muscles rippling beneath her fingers. She could feel the beginnings of desire swell again, and John chuckled, causing her living pillow to vibrate. She smiled. “I love you,” she whispered softly.
It took her a moment to realize that the shaking was no longer caused by laughter. He leaned down to kiss her forehead, and she could feel

the salty moisture of tears dripping onto her skin. He’s crying, she thought, astonished. No, he can’t possibly regret this! But the fear of that possibility caused her voice to tremble as she asked, “John?”

He sighed softly. “That isn’t the way it happened, Doc,” he whispered, and she could hear the echo of remembered pain, heart- wide and soul-deep. She reached up to curve her hand around his neck. “Tell me,” she demanded quietly, her cheek still resting on his chest.
He buried his face in her hair, inhaling deeply as if the scent of her would make his next words easier to say…and his next thoughts easier to remember. “That’s what *I* said, Doc,” he replied softly. “We were lying here, just like this, and I was holding you in my arms, where I’d longed to have you for so long…and I said I loved you…and you told me not to say it…” “Oh, John,” she moaned regretfully. “No…”
She felt him nod. “You said you had no right to do this to Roman…” She shut her eyes, pained beyond words, but he continued, unable to stop the torrent of memory now that he’d begun. “You said we could *talk* about our feelings but not act on them…and you said that what happened was your fault, because you convinced yourself that you were coming to the plane just to talk…” She swallowed with difficulty past the aching lump in her throat. His voice sank to a whisper. “And then I asked you to look at me, and you wouldn’t do it.”
She bit her lip, hard, to keep her tears from falling, wincing in pain as she tasted the coppery tang of blood. “Why wouldn’t I?” she whispered, forcing herself to listen, to take her punishment for hurting him all those years ago.
He squeezed her. “You said if you looked at me and saw the love in my eyes, you were afraid you’d be lost…and you’d give your heart to me.” He sighed. “And it wasn’t yours to give…” She kissed his chest softly. “It was yours once,” she replied shakily. She felt his arms tighten around her involuntarily. “That’s what I said,” he returned in a voice filled with wonder. “That’s exactly what I said.”
She brought her other arm up beneath her and propped herself up on her elbows on top of his chest. She raised her head and looked him in the eye, her heart aching upon seeing the streaks of tears still evident on his cheeks. “It’s true, John. My heart *was* yours once.” She leaned forward to kiss away the salty streaks, then kissed each closed eyelid, then his nose, then his mouth. “And it’s yours now,” she

breathed softly. “Now and always…”

He opened his eyes and met her gaze; no trace of pain remained. He
brought his hand up to skim her face, the side of her neck, the curve
of her breast. Her breath caught, but she didn’t look away. “I love you,
Doc,” he whispered. He hooked his arms underneath hers and pulled
her toward him until she lay fully atop him, chest to chest, hips to hips,
legs to legs. She could feel the evidence of his desire, could see it in
his heavy- lidded gaze, could hear it in the rough timbre of his voice. “I
love you,” he repeated, his fingers tangling in her hair. “Now and
always…” And then he brought his lips to hers, and there was no more
talking.
***
“You can come out now, Doc,” John said, trying unsuccessfully to stifle a chuckle. One gleaming eye peeked out from under the blanket. Her hair had dried in the warm cabin air sometime during their activities of the past hour; he thought the tousled corkscrew curls were adorable. He rather thought the pilot had, too.
“Is he gone?” Marlena whispered, a rosy blush still staining her cheeks, though it had been a good five minutes since the pilot had…interrupted them…on the couch on his way to deliver a weather update. It’s a good thing he wasn’t ten minutes earlier, John thought gratefully. “He’s gone, Doc,” John assured her as he reached for the tattered remains of his shirt.
Marlena poked her head out of the cocoon she’d made from the blanket. “What did he say?” she asked, pretending nonchalance, but the illusion was shattered by that ever-present blush. John leered at her laughingly. “He said you were the sexiest woman he’d seen in a *long* time. *Ever*, actually.”
She glared at him balefully. “Tell me you’re not serious, John. He didn’t…well, he didn’t see *that* much, did he?” John shot her a rueful smile as he gathered their discarded clothing into a pile. “Of you, no, apparently not. Me? Well, that’s another story.”
She finally began to smile. “Just tell him you were a priest and therefore it’s a mortal sin to lust after your beautiful body.” John snorted. “I doubt it’s *my* beautiful body that’s tempting him now. And if that’s the penalty for lusting after me, then what’s going to happen to you?” Marlena slowly and deliberately licked her lips. “I think I’ll take

my chances.”

He groaned. “Stop that, Doc.” He tossed her clothes to her from across the cabin, aware that if he came within touching distance they were never going to get off of the plane. She stuck her tongue out at him. “Spoilsport.” She held her blouse up in front of her, frowning mournfully at its lack of buttons.. She lifted the torn camisole with her other hand, unaware that the blanket around her shoulders had slipped, revealing tantalizing glimpses of creamy skin. “Um, Doc-”
“Don’t blame me,” she replied, raising her eyebrows. “I’m not the one who ripped them to shreds. And just what, I ask you, am I supposed to wear to get home this evening?” His gaze was hot and searing. “Well, that blanket’s looking pretty damn good, I must say.” She glanced downward, blushed again, and grabbed awkwardly for the folds of fabric. He couldn’t resist teasing her. “Come on, Doc, it isn’t anything I haven’t seen before…fairly recently, if I’m remembering correctly.”
She quirked her lip impishly, eyes sparkling. “Memory going already, huh?” she asked, schooling her features into a frown of mock sympathy. “Well, you know, they say it’s the…” she arched a brow pointedly at his half unbuttoned pants, “…*second* thing to go.”
John laughed and crossed the cabin in two strides. He scooped her up from the couch, blanket and all, and settled her on his lap. “Ain’t nothing gone on me, lady. As you can probably *feel* for yourself.”
She traced his lips with her index finger, her breath quickening in response to his heated touch. “I might require a bit more of a demonstration, actually,” she said breathlessly. He leaned forward to touch his lips to hers, but pulled away, moaning softly, when she tried to deepen the kiss. He tried to frown sternly at her, but the pure, overwhelming joy of the moment wouldn’t let him. “The pilot…” he mumbled, distracted by her suddenly wandering fingers.
“What about him?” she breathed, smiling as she watched his eyes dilate with pleasure over her *explorations*. “Oh…he said…stop it, Doc…no, *don’t* stop…um…weather…” He sighed blissfully. “…delay…or something…” Her hands abruptly stilled. “John?” His eyes slowly came back into focus. “Hmmm?” She clutched the blanket to her chest. “The pilot said there’d be a delay in your takeoff?” “Ummm-hmmm.”
She scooted off of his lap, awkwardly trying to pick her way through

the clothes on the floor and wrap the blanket more securely around herself at the same time. “I see,” she replied in a quiet voice. He stood up from the couch and pulled her unceremoniously into his arms. “And I told him it didn’t matter,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”

She gave him a ravishing smile and stood on tiptoe to kiss him softly. “Then *what*,” she asked, kissing him to punctuate every other word, “am I going to *wear*?” He reached down to pick up her discarded coat. “Looks like this is the only thing that made it through intact, Doc. Feeling daring?”
She quirked an eyebrow at him, smiled seductively, and allowed the blanket to drop to the floor. “I will if you will.” ***

The pilot heard the laughter coming from the cabin from his seat in the
front of the cockpit. He grinned at the memory of walking in on Mr.
Black and the Lady Doctor…*enjoying* each other’s company very
much indeed. He was happy for them. Mr. Black was a great boss,
very undemanding, and he’d flown Dr. Evans to and fro several times;
she’d never been less than completely gracious. Wonder what
happened to the other one? he thought idly, remembering the thin,
haughty blonde with the icy eyes. He smirked, shrugging. Who cares?
He reached for the paper copy of the log book and uncapped his pen,
sighing gustily. Might as well get some work done. There’s no way I’m
going back *there* again. He began to laugh, wondering how long it
would take them to manage actually leaving the plane. They seemed
really happy together, a real love-match. He just hoped nothing would
come between them.
Chapter 29
John hummed softly as he broke open an egg and poured the yolk into the pancake batter in the large green bowl. He touched the tip of his finger to the griddle, then jerked it away quickly and popped it into his mouth. “Perfect,” he murmured happily, overcome by an overwhelming feeling of contentment. Everything is perfect…*Life* is perfect.
“John?” John started and nearly dropped the bowl of batter on the floor. He whirled to find Sami standing in the kitchen doorway, eyebrows raised expectantly. “What are you doing here, John? I

thought you were supposed to be in Italy, or at least lounging in a jet somewhere over the Atlantic.” He flushed, turned and set the bowl down on the counter. “I…ah…changed my mind.”

“I see,” she replied, and he could tell from the tone of her voice that she did. But he couldn’t tell how she felt about it. He turned back to look at her. “Sami?”
Sami sighed, slid into a chair at the table, and hunched her shoulders uncomfortably. She reached for the squeeze bottle of syrup sitting in the middle of the table. “I don’t know, John,” she said, replying to his unspoken question. “I don’t know how I feel about this.”
John pulled the opposite chair out from under the table and seated himself across from her, stirring the batter as he waited for her to continue. But she was silent, her hands nervously fiddling with the cap on the syrup. “I understand how you must be feeling,” he offered finally.
She quirked an eyebrow. “Do you think so? Now how do you figure that, when I can’t make it out myself?” He scraped surplus batter from the side of the bowl with the spoon and shrugged. “I’m guessing you’re confused, Sami.”
She smiled involuntarily. “Okay, point taken. I guess you *do* know how I feel.” She tipped the bottle on its side and poured out a few drops of syrup onto her finger. “Do you know *why* I’m confused?”
John tapped the spoon on the rim of the bowl to remove the excess batter. He looked up to find her watching him intently. “Maybe because…a part of you is angry, remembering the past…and a part of you is happy, because deep down you really want us to *be* happy…all of us.”
She ducked her head and mumbled, “I don’t know. Maybe.” He watched her for a moment, then stood up and walked over to the stove. “Well, let’s try this,” he said, ladling out generous dollops of batter onto the grill. “Describe your anger. Tell me *exactly* why my being with Marlena makes you angry.”
Despite herself, Sami felt a tiny frisson of amusement. “You sound like Mom.” John tossed her a grin over his shoulder. “I guess shrink-speak is catching if you’re around one long enough.” “I guess so…” Her smile faded. “You *know* why I’m angry, John.”
He turned and gave her a sad smile. “I do know. But I think that…just

maybe…you need to tell me yourself. And I need to hear it.” He turned back to the stove and flipped one of the pancakes with a spatula. Loose drops of batter spattered on the stovetop. Sami stared at his back. She could see the tension in his neck and realized that hearing what she had to say would not be as easy for him as he was making it out to be.

Sighing, she capped the syrup again and returned it to the middle of the table. She picked up the small plastic container next to it and opened up the lid. A puff of powdered sugar escaped. She inhaled deeply, smiling at the scent of memory of her childhood – of rainy Saturdays, hours of cartoons, and pancakes with her name written on them in powdered sugar.
“Are you making those for Mom?” she asked. He laughed. “Not unless she can eat about fifty of them all by herself. I’m making them for everyone. Brady and Belle *love* pancake breakfasts and Warner Brothers cartoons.” He carefully edged the spatula under another pancake. “Is Carrie still here?”
Sami dipped the tip of her finger into the powdered sugar. “Ummm…no, she left last night after we gave the little terrors…oops, the little *darlings* their baths. She had some kind of presentation this morning, and Mrs. Naughton said she was coming in early, anyway.”
John nodded, “I know – I called her this morning and told her not to bother, since we’d be here today.” He levered the last pancake onto the plate next to the stove, then snagged the butter from the refrigerator on his way to the table. He set the food before her with a theatrical flourish. “Breakfast is served!”
Sami stared at the plate of pancakes for a moment, took a deep breath, and finally looked up at him. “Would you fix them for me, John? The way you used to?” She could see the storm of tender emotion gather in his eyes. He nodded. “Of course.”
Sami watched as he drizzled syrup artistically across two of the pancakes. He reached for the powdered sugar, and poured a thin stream of it with shaking hands. S A M I. John looked up to see Sami’s eyes brighten with tears. He pushed the plate slowly across the table toward her. She looked down at the pancakes, her mind superimposing an image of countless Saturdays that had begun the exact same way when she was small. “Thanks,” she whispered

hoarsely.

“I remember, too, Sami,” he replied gently. She closed her eyes. One tear escaped to roll slowly down her cheek. “You know what? Sometimes we didn’t think you did, John.” Silently, he handed her a fork and a napkin. Then: “We?” She brandished the fork over her breakfast. “Me and Eric. After you left.”
John steepled his hands and lowered his eyes. “I didn’t think I had a choice, Sami. I was trying to do what was best for everyone. Especially you, Eric and Carrie.” Her eyes stung from the tears. “How was it best for us to think that the man we called our father for seven years didn’t even care enough for us to fight for us?” she replied sharply.
He sat back in his chair, stunned. “I…I *couldn’t* fight, Sami. Can’t you see that? It wouldn’t have been the right thing to do. Your parents didn’t give you up, or desert you. They were *taken* from you against their will. They had a right to be with their children.”
“What about *our* rights?” she burst out angrily. “Our right not to be left with two total strangers after the man we loved more than anyone in the world told us he was no longer going to live with us…and no longer going to be our father. Do you have any *idea* how frightening that was?” His eyes flashed with guilt, but he protested, “Doc wasn’t a stranger.”
She scowled. “How long had she been back, John? Two…two and a half months, maybe? After she was gone for *five* years! Maybe she wasn’t a total stranger, but she was pretty close. And we didn’t know *him* at all.”
John closed his eyes. “I couldn’t fight, Sami,” he finally whispered brokenly. “Can’t you see what that would have meant? Can’t you see what it would have led to?” He opened his eyes, and Sami flinched at the agonizing pain she saw within. His voice was almost inaudible. “After I said goodbye to you…” He swallowed with difficulty. “After I left…I just couldn’t deal with it. I thought I’d be strong enough to handle it, but I wasn’t. So I actually called a lawyer and asked him some…*hypothetical* questions. He thought I was making up a really crazy story, but he answered me anyway.” He met her gaze. “There was *no* way I could’ve won, Sami. I had no name, no past, no home, and no job. And Roman and Marlena were *victims*, just as much as I

was.” He sighed heavily. “Maybe, just *maybe* I could have gotten some kind of partial custody. But the price would have been just too high.”

Sami stared down at her plate. “What price?” she asked miserably. He reached across the table and took her hand in his. “Tell me something, Sami. What would you and Eric have done if you knew that I was fighting them for you?” Her brow furrowed. “What would we have done? What do you mean?” He squeezed her hand. “I mean, how would you have treated Doc and Roman?”
She glanced away uncomfortably. “I don’t think I know what you’re getting at.” “I think you do,” he replied quietly. “And I think I know what you would have done. You would have done your best to ensure that they wouldn’t *want* you. You would have told them you hated them and wished they’d just stayed dead. I’m right, aren’t I?” Sami lowered her eyes. “Maybe.”
He squeezed her hand again. “And what about the rest of the family? How could they have chosen? It would have started a war, and that’s the last thing I wanted. I love the Bradys, Sami. They’re like my own.” Sami looked up and regarded him steadily. She could tell he was speaking the truth…but maybe not the whole truth. “That’s not all, is it, though? Tell me something, John. If it had just been Daddy and not Mom…If *he* had been the only one who came back, then what would you have done?”
It was John’s turn to look away. He bit his lip and remained silent. She gave a short bitter laugh. “I’m right, aren’t I? You would have fought him for us, if it weren’t for her.”
He nodded slowly, regretfully, and held out his hands as if begging her for understanding. “Don’t you see, Sami? She was the one who brought you into my life in the first place. I remember the day she gave you to me,” he whispered achingly. “She was so incredibly happy to reunite her children with their father. And I remember the day she got you back.” He saw something flicker in her eyes. “And you remember it, too, don’t you? I couldn’t keep you from your mother, Sami. And she and Roman were together. I knew that she…that *they* would do their best by you.”
“So you dropped us like hot rocks, huh?” She tried for a tone of wry humor, but her statement came out tinged with bitterness. “It wasn’t

like that,” he replied quietly. “You know it wasn’t.” She stared down at the steaming pancakes. “I know *now* that it wasn’t,” she finally admitted. “But I didn’t know it then. I just thought you found a life…and a child…that you wanted more than you wanted us.”

“Oh, Sami,” he moaned softly. “Oh, no, sweetheart, it wasn’t like that at all. I *love* Brady…but he could never take the place you hold in my heart – or Eric’s, or Carrie’s. Loving your kids isn’t like that. What you feel for one doesn’t take away from what you feel for another.”
Sami nodded slowly in comprehension. “I can see that, now that I have Will.” She smiled wanly as she ran her finger around the rim of her plate. “You know, if someone came to me right now and said there’d been some kind of horrible mistake, that Will wasn’t really my son, it wouldn’t make a bit of difference in how much I love him.” She looked up at John. “He’s mine, in my heart, where it counts. And nothing in the world could change that.” He smiled. “And you and Eric and Carrie are mine, whether you want to be or not.”
She looked back down at her plate. “For a long time I didn’t want to be,” she whispered softly. He regarded her carefully. “And now?” She pressed her lips together to hold back her tears and set her fork down on the table. “I love Daddy, John,” she said finally. “It took a long time to get there, but I really do love him.” She took a deep breath, her voice tinged slightly with accusation. “You *gave* us to them. You *told* us to love them, to make a family with them. It was really *hard*, John.” She looked up at him, eyes brimming. “Eric-…Eric couldn’t bring himself to do it. He stayed in Colorado because he couldn’t live with the way things were. But *I* couldn’t live without my family…even a family I didn’t know, even a family that wasn’t my first choice. So I came back, hoping that I could help make a family that Eric *could* accept, so he’d come back and we’d be together.” She picked up her fork and ran her fingers over the tines, pressing hard enough to make grooves in her fingertips. “And then everything went all to hell. And Eric hasn’t come back since.”

John was silent for a moment. “I had no idea that’s why he hadn’t come back. I thought it was because Doc and I…” His voice trailed off. She shook her head tiredly. “It’s not even about *that* anymore, John. Eric’s finally managed to cut himself off from the family, and he’s not willing to let us back in. He just doesn’t want to *feel* anything for us

anymore.” She swallowed with difficulty. “That’s why he’s never even seen his nephew.” John blinked back sudden tears. “I’m so sorry, Sami.”

She shook her head, her own tears finally spilling over. “It’s not your fault, John.” She stilled abruptly, then looked up at him, her eyes filled with something akin to wonder. “It’s not your fault…” she repeated in a stunned voice. She closed her eyes, pained. “I’ve blamed you for so long…because it was the one thing I *could* do. Because it was better than admitting that I was totally and completely helpless. And that you, and Mom, and Dad…well, you were pretty helpless, too.”
John lowered his eyes guiltily. “In the beginning, yes. But my affair with Doc…” He sighed. “As much as I’d like to blame Stefano, I can’t hold him responsible for that.”
Sami cocked her head, lips pursed, considering. “He created a horrible, impossible situation, to hurt Daddy and Mom and conceal his own crimes. He *brainwashed* you to make you believe you were Daddy. You were a *priest*, John! *I* can’t even imagine doing anything that horrible. And I’ve done some pretty horrible stuff myself.” John reached for her hand. “You were in a lot of pain, Sami. Your mom and I, we understood that.” “We’ve all been in a lot of pain,” she replied bleakly. She turned blind eyes back down to her pancakes. “Do you think it’ll ever stop?”
He squeezed her hand encouragingly. “I think so. One of the things I learned while I was a priest is that admitting there’s nothing you can do to change the past can help you let go of the pain of it. Finding that out really helped me a lot.”
She took a deep breath and slowly nodded. “Maybe.” She squeezed his hand in return. “I think I’m ready to try, now.” He smiled at her tenderly. “I’m so glad.”
“Glad about what?” Marlena asked as she swept into the kitchen, the pink silk of her robe billowing behind her. She touched Sami’s cheek in a gentle caress, then captured John’s face between her hands to give him a long, lingering kiss. “Good morning, handsome.” He grinned at her. “Good morning, beautiful.”
Marlena reached over and dipped a finger into the syrup on Sami’s plate. “Mmmm…” She scowled at John with mock ferocity. “I woke up a few minutes ago to find that you weren’t sleeping next to me. And I

come down here to find you making pancakes for another woman, after I promised I’d cook a special breakfast just for you. Just *what* do you have to say for yourself, you disobedient man?”

He held the back of his hand against his forehead dramatically. “She bewitched me, honeybunch. Honestly, I swear! It wasn’t my fault. She just looked up at me with those beautiful blue eyes and asked me for pancakes and I was hypnotized…” Sami giggled at him. “So *that’s* why you were cooking.” Marlena shot her a quizzical glance, and she quickly changed her laugh into a choked cough. “Uh, he’s right, Mom. I was remembering how he used to make pancakes for us when we were little, and I asked him to do it again.” She pointed to the S A M still visible on the remaining uneaten pancakes. “See?”
Marlena laughed. “I’d forgotten how he used to autograph his cooking.” She ran her hand lovingly through his hair. “I guess it was such a rare occurrence that it required a signature for authenticity’s sake.” Sami’s smile faded a little. “He used to make them for us a lot after you…disappeared.”
Marlena reached over and gently cupped her daughter’s cheek. “Well, I’m glad. I knew he must have taken good care of you, but it’s nice to hear it anyway.” Sami looked over at John, eyes glinting with suppressed emotion. “He took very good care of us,” she replied hoarsely. John smiled back at her. “It was my privilege, Sami.”
She smiled, took a deep breath, and wrenched her gaze away to look blindly back down at her pancakes. Marlena recognized her discomfort and reached over to tip John’s chin up with her fingers. “What about me?” she demanded laughingly. “Don’t *I* get some of these famous pancakes.”
He grinned. “Yup, of course you do.” He stood up from the table and walked back toward the stove. “In fact, *you* get a little something extra.” Marlena grinned at his back and raised an eyebrow toward Sami. “Oooh, sounds intriguing, doesn’t it, sweetheart? What do you think it is?”
Sami waved a forkful of pancake toward the sink. “I think his surprise is that he saved the dishes for *you* to wash!” John glared at her over his shoulder. “Thanks a lot, Sami.” He dug into the front pocket of his robe, pulled out a small, gaily wrapped box, placed it in the center of the plate, and then ringed it with a stack of pancakes. He flipped a

napkin over his arm and raised the plate on one hand, like a waiter in a ritzy restaurant. “Your breakfast, madame.” He laid the plate before Marlena with a dramatic flourish. “Merry Christmas.”

Marlena reached hesitantly for the bright beribboned present. She cocked an eyebrow at him. “This is late,” she scolded with mock severity. With difficulty he managed to wipe the expectant grin from his face. “Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am…So, you going to open it or what?” She wrinkled her nose pertly. “I don’t know…What do you think, Sami?” Sami grinned. “Are you kidding, Mom? He’s richer than Donald Trump. Open it, already!”
Marlena laughed and held the box up to her ear, shaking it gently to see if it would rattle. “Well, let’s see…I don’t think it’s a pony…or a BMW…or a personal gym…” John growled at her. “Open it, woman, before I decide to take it back.” She clutched the package against her chest. “Oh, no, you don’t, mister. It’s *mine*.” She poked gently at the wrapping paper, peeling it away to reveal a flat jewelry box the size and width of a pack of cards.
“Ooohh,” Sami breathed, “I think I sense something shiny in your future, Mom.” Marlena flashed her a grin as she pried open the velvet-lined top. She sucked in a sharp, appreciative breath. “Oh, *John*, it’s beautiful!” She held up a gold charm bracelet, the jewels and charms twinkling brightly in the morning light. Sami smiled at the expression on her mother’s face, then raised her brows at John. “Uh, John…that bracelet looks kind of familiar…”
He nodded. “Well, there’s a good reason for that.” He turned to Marlena. “I gave you that bracelet for Christmas four years ago…for different reasons, with slightly different charms. Carrie and Sami found it when they were moving in here, and Carrie gave it to me.” Marlena regarded him, eyebrows raised expectantly. “I gave it to you for courage, Doc, because you’d just been through a horrible ordeal. I knew you were having trouble dealing with it, and I wanted to help you somehow.”
Her brow furrowed as she struggled to sift through the myriad of details from her forgotten years. “The patient…the one who kidnapped me? The one who trapped us in the warehouse?”
He nodded again and reached for the bracelet. “The charms are symbols, Doc. The angel…for hope. The anchor…for steadfastness.”

He grinned impishly. “The couch…for psychiatrist-ness. And then there were a few I had to remove, to make room for the necessary additions.” He darted a glance toward Sami. “Room for the charms for the children.”

Marlena inspected the shining charms closely, a beaming smile breaking out across her face. “Here’s Carrie’s birthstone! And Sami’s and Eric’s…” He smiled. “Yes. Those three were there four years ago.” She peered closer. “And this little stone attached to…Sami’s?” She held it out to her daughter, delighted. “For Will?”
John nodded. Sami looked over at him, tears of gratitude filling her eyes. “It’s beautiful, John.” Marlena fingered the tiny charms reverently. “Which one is Belle’s, and which one is Brady’s?” John pointed. “See, that one’s for May, when Brady was born. And this one’s October, for Belle.” Marlena looked up at him, her eyes glinting with emotion. “I love it, John. It’s just wonderful. I’ll wear it always.” She reached around the table to envelop him in a fierce hug, then gave him a heartfelt kiss. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her into his lap. “I’m glad you like it, Doc,” he replied quietly. “I love you, honey.” She kissed him again softly. “I love you, too.”
Sami cleared her throat ostentatiously, but when they turned to look at her, she was grinning at them. “Um, guys, sorry to interrupt…but there are impressionable children in the room.” “What?” Their heads turned in unison toward the doorway, where Belle and Brady stood watching them, blinking sleepily, clad in identical fuzzy-footed pajamas. A dilapidated blanket trailed behind Brady. Belle silently sucked on her thumb, wide- eyed. “Hey, munchkins,” Sami called. “You guys want some pancakes?” Belle popped her thumb out of her mouth. “Syrup?” she asked hopefully in a piping voice. “And powdered sugar?” Brady injected quickly.
Marlena slid off of John’s lap and stepped over to heft them up into her arms. “Syrup and powdered sugar,” she promised them solemnly, then kissed each of them on the cheek. “And lots and lots of pancakes. I sure hope you guys are hungry.” They grinned and nodded enthusiastically. John finished arranging their booster seats in the two vacant chairs and reached for Belle. “Here you go, sweetie.” Brady squirmed as Marlena settled him in his seat. “Daddy writes our names on ’em,” he confided loftily to Sami. She ruffled his hair, smiling

softly. “I know, Squirt. He did the same for me.” Brady dipped a small finger in her syrup and licked the sweetness from it, grinning impishly at her. “Well, you’re my sister, right? So it’s okay.”

Sami looked up to find John watching her, a tender smile on his face. She leaned over and kissed Brady on the forehead. “That’s right. I *am* your sister, so it *is* okay.” Brady grinned at her and batted at her hands playfully. “No mushy stuff.” She laughed and picked up her fork again. “No mushy stuff. Got it.”
John slid two plates of pancakes in front of his youngest children. “Here you go, guys. Eat up!” Belle immediately plunged both of her hands into the gooey plateful. Marlena reached for her a scant second too late. “Oh, Belle, you’re supposed to use your fork.” The little girl grinned up at her mother, syrup dripping from her fingers. Marlena laughed and reached for a napkin.
Brady eyed his sister disdainfully as he carved into his pancakes with a fork. He shoveled a large bite into his mouth, then blinked up at his father owlishly. He gulped down the mouthful and asked suddenly, “How long’re we stayin’ here, Daddy?”
John looked down at his son, startled. “Why do you ask, Slugger?” Brady swiped at his mouth with his sleeve. He grimaced and ducked his head guiltily. “Well…I don’t wanna go back and live with Kristen again.”
John darted a glance toward Marlena, who returned his gaze calmly. “We aren’t going to go back there, son. Not ever. Don’t you remember me explaining to you that Kristen and I aren’t going to get married after all?” Brady nodded slowly. “Uh-huh.” He peeked up at Marlena. “So are we stayin’ here with Momma?”
John ruffled his son’s hair with one hand while he wrapped the other arm around Marlena’s waist. “We’re definitely staying with Momma. Wherever we go, she goes. We’re a family now.” He grinned. “Good.” He looked back down at his pancakes. “What about the new baby?” he asked in a low voice.
John felt Marlena stiffen in his arms. “What about it?” Brady bit his lip worriedly. “It’s not gonna live in *my* room, is it? Babies stink.” He darted a chagrined look toward Sami. “Not Will, I mean. But other babies.” Sami grinned down at him. “Oh, I don’t know. Sometimes Will stinks a bit, too.”

He nodded at her, relieved that she understood, then looked back up at his father. “But there aren’t any more rooms, Daddy.” He smiled suddenly as inspiration struck. “Or it could live in Belle’s room. I bet she’d like that.” Belle looked up from her pancakes, waved a sticky hand in the air and shook her head firmly. “Nope. Not *my* room.”

The tension slowly drained from Marlena’s frame as she laughed at the little girl’s determined expression. She gave John a quick peck on the cheek and slid back into her chair. “They’ve got a point, John. There really *is* no more room at the inn.” Sami shrugged casually. “Well, Will and I won’t be here. The baby can have my room.” “No!” John and Marlena both exclaimed at the same time. They turned to look at each other in surprise. Sami eyed them quizzically. “Is something wrong?”
John raised an eyebrow at Marlena, who nodded fractionally in response. He turned back toward Sami. “We don’t want you and Will to leave, Sami,” he stated quietly. The bit of pancake she’d just swallowed caught in her throat. “Wh-what?” Marlena reached across the table to capture her hand. “I was thinking about this last night, sweetie. What do you think about coming to live with us full-time?”
Sami stared at her, shocked. “You really want that?” she asked, her voice ending in a high squeak. John nodded. “Of course we do, Sami. And it would be good for Will, too, to have other kids around to play with. Mrs. Naughton would be here to look after him whenever you needed to go out. And if you decided to take some classes at the university or something, you wouldn’t have to worry about arranging for child care.” She cast him a swift, surprised glance. He nodded. “Caroline said something about you maybe wanting to do that. But even if you want to be a full-time mom, we’d still like for you to stay with us.”
Sami blinked back sudden tears. “I…I don’t know what to say,” she admitted softly. Marlena smiled brightly. “Say yes!” Sami looked from her mother to John and back again. “I…” She took a deep breath. “I…all right…yes.” She grinned at them, feeling suddenly lighthearted and free. “I’d love to stay.” Their smiles were almost blinding. She held up a cautionary hand. “But then you’re left with the same problem you started with…there’s not enough room at the inn.”
John raised his eyebrows. “Well, that’s not really a problem…that is, I

mean…we could simply get a bigger house.” He looked down at Marlena uncertainly. “Er…If you wanted to…”

She looked down at her plate, her mind racing. “I think…” she began softly. “I think…that’s a great idea, actually.” She looked up and grinned at John and each of her children in turn. “After all, Daddy has a *pile* of money. We could get a house with a room for everyone.”
John growled at her. “I knew it! I *knew* it! You love me for my money.” Marlena tilted her head up and planted a smacking kiss on his lips. “Don’t you know it!” She turned back to the kids. “What do you think, guys? Do you want to get a new house? One that belongs just to us?”
Brady and Belle giggled and nodded. Sami smiled. “Sounds good.” She arched an inquiring brow. “Just how big of a house did you have in mind?” John affected a frown of deep concentration and held up his hands to tick off his requirements one by one. “Let’s see…one bedroom for me and Doc…” He paused momentarily to steal a swift kiss. “Mmmm…one for Belle…one for Brady…one for Sami…one for Will…”
Marlena chimed in, “One for Eric…one for Carrie…” She swallowed uncomfortably, then continued, “One for the new baby…” John squeezed her hand reassuringly and turned to Brady. “How many is that, Slugger?” Brady’s brow furrowed. “Ummm…seven? No, eight!” John grinned at him. “That’s right. Good job, son.” Sami groaned laughingly. “Eight bedrooms. Oh, piece of cake, *every* house has eight bedrooms!”
Marlena smiled at her. “Oh, I don’t know, Sami. We might want to have one more for a guest room, just in case.” Sami smacked herself on the side of her head. “Of course! A guest room! Why didn’t I think of that?” John shot her a quelling frown. “Now, now, don’t be sarcastic, Sami. It’s very important to make a list of the things you need when buying a new house.” He held up his fork, waving it to emphasize his points. “So…*nine* bedrooms, a kitchen, a dining room, four or five bathrooms, a living room…um…a playroom?” He quirked his eyebrow at Brady and Belle, who nodded enthusiastically. Sami bit her lip. “An office?” she offered doubtfully.
He nodded. “Good, yes, an office…” He glanced down at Marlena. “Or two,” he amended, smiling at her. Brady cocked his head. “A swimmin’

pool?” he suggested hopefully. John laughed. “There’s an idea. We’ll think about it, Slugger.”

Sami grinned. “I think if there’s a house out there with all the other stuff, you can pretty much guarantee that it’ll have a pool…and maybe a formal ballroom…a fully-equipped gymnasium…a helicopter pad…or maybe a moat…”
Marlena was laughing so hard tears were streaming down her cheeks. “A moat! Oh, God, Sami, anything but that!” Brady looked back and forth between the adults, his little face screwed up in confusion. “What’s a moat?” The adults were too convulsed with mirth to enlighten him. He turned toward his little sister, who shook her head uncomprehendingly. They both looked back up at the silly adults, shrugged amiably in unison, and dove back into their piles of pancakes. The sound of laughter rang throughout the kitchen. Chapter 30
Kristen lay on the couch in the darkened living room of the DiMera mansion, a cold wet rag covering her eyes, a half-filled bottle of headache medicine resting on the table beside her. She sighed heavily; the medicine was not helping, and she knew exactly why that was. Because her headache had a name – Dr. Marlena Evans – and no amount of medicine would make it go away.
The sound of a fist pounding on the front door made her flinch. “Go away!” she yelled angrily, the reverberation of her own voice grating on her shattered nerves. “Open the door, Krissy,” Peter called, his voice muffled by the intervening wood.
She closed her eyes again. “Open it yourself. You’ve got a key.” A few moments later she heard the scratching sound of a key in the lock. The door opened, and soft footsteps proceeded into the living room. “Krissy?” Peter asked cautiously.
“What is it?” she snapped. “Can’t you see I don’t feel well?” “Oh, sorry. I came by because I have some news for you.” He regarded her dejected form with raised eyebrows. “Is something wrong?” She laughed bitterly. “What could be wrong? I mean, just because my fiance dumped me for another woman – and I’m as big as an elephant with an illegitimate baby that he could care less about – and I have no idea what to do next…what could possibly be *wrong*?”
Peter settled himself on the arm of the couch and looked down at her

pale face. “I’m sure John cares about the baby,” he offered finally. Her lip curled sarcastically. “Is that the best you can do?” He shrugged. “Sorry, Krissy, but I was at Bo and Hope’s *non*-wedding too, and I saw John and Marlena together. And they looked like they were truly in love – really *together*, if you know what I mean.”

“Well, of course I know,” she snapped angrily. “*Everybody* knows. And nobody cares! You’d think I’d get a little more sympathy after my fiance dumps me while I’m swollen up like a blimp with his child, but noooooo….everyone was just so damn *happy* for them.”
Peter rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Well, Jennifer was pretty sympathetic, considering how she feels about *me* right now.” He shrugged. “Kristen, most of the people there were members of the Brady family. They think of both John and Marlena as family, so of *course* they’re happy for them.” He reached out and placed a tentative hand on her shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better at all, I’m sure none of them ever wanted to see you hurt.”
Kristen flung the wet towel across the room and struggled to sit up, wincing as a mild cramp seized her belly. “That’s just it, Peter. They’re *Bradys*. Like Roman is…like Sami is. Why are they so happy about this? John and Marlena *betrayed* them.”
“I don’t know, Krissy. I guess they just don’t see it that way anymore.” He shrugged again. “Even Sami looked reasonably happy about it.” “The little witch…” Kristen muttered under her breath. She sighed and buried her head in her hands. “I heard them talking about buying a new house,” she admitted in a muffled voice. “I guess that means my little mind games with Marlena weren’t as effective as I thought.”
*That’s* a bit of an understatement! “I’d have to agree with you there.” Kristen rubbed her temples wearily. “Well, I’m not giving up yet.” She looked up at him, eyes narrowing. “You said you have some news.” He nodded, eyeing her carefully. I wonder if it’s really a good idea to tell her this…but she’s not likely to let it go anytime soon. Oh, well… He sighed. “I think I may have found Stefano’s hideout.”
Intense interest flared in her eyes. “The place where he held Marlena?” Peter nodded and held up a cautionary hand. “I don’t know if he’s still there – In fact, I’d tend to doubt it. And my source had no information on how exactly Marlena managed to escape or how Stefano’s blood ended up all over her. But it’s a beginning, anyway.”

She reached up and grabbed his hand, squeezing his fingers so tightly

that he had to suppress a cry of pain. “It *is* a beginning, Peter. It’s
the beginning of the *end*…for Marlena, that is.” She smiled viciously.
“Just tell me where to go.”
***
“You have *got* to be kidding, Mom.”
Marlena looked up at Sami, eyes sparkling merrily at her daughter’s dry tone. “What do you mean, Sami?” Sami snatched the interior decorating booklet from her mother’s lap. “A living room done entirely in shades of beige and white? In a house with three young children running around? You can’t be serious!”
Marlena bit her lip to keep from laughing. “You think so? I remember how well-behaved and *clean* you and Eric were…” Sami playfully hit her mother’s shoulder with the rolled-up magazine. “Very funny, Mom. I’ve *seen* Belle and Brady after a relaxing day in the park – We’d probably do better to decorate the entire house in earth tones. *Dark* earth tones.”
Marlena grimaced as she blew on the steaming cup of coffee in her right hand. “I see your point. Either that, or we’re going to have to hire a maid.” Sami raised her eyebrows and quirked her lip. “I thought that hiring a maid was a given, Mom, or I *never* would have agreed to move in. Do you have any idea how long it would take to clean a house with *nine* bedrooms?”
Marlena shuddered theatrically. “Yikes, it doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?” She set her cup down on the coffee table and picked up a computer printout of real estate listings. “From this preliminary list, it looks as if there aren’t very many houses available in Salem that meet our requirements…and that’s after we conceded on the moat and the helicopter pad.” She flashed a smile at Sami. “But there are a couple in here that look pretty good. The agent said she could show them to us this morning if we wanted.”
Sami nodded. “That’s fine with me – I don’t have anywhere that I need to be. But where’s John?” Marlena frowned. “He went over to the boat to check on Bo. We were concerned about how he was taking Hope calling off the wedding.”
Sami nodded, sighing. “I really don’t understand what happened with them, Mom. They’ve seemed so happy ever since they got back

together last spring. I don’t understand what that Italian guy has to do with anything, and I had no idea that Billie’s return was affecting Hope so much.”

Marlena grimaced. “Well, apparently Hope feels Bo still has feelings for her. I don’t see it myself, but then all I can remember is how in love Bo and Hope always were, and how happy.” Sami looked down at her hands, nodding. “He was really devastated when she disappeared and everyone presumed she was dead. It took him a long time to accept it, but he finally did. And then he fell in love with Billie. So much so that he didn’t want to believe Hope *was* Hope when John rescued her down in New Orleans.”
Marlena winced and closed her eyes. “Another one of Stefano’s victims…” Sami scowled darkly. “And it looks as though they’re still paying for it.” Marlena reached over and squeezed Sami’s hand reassuringly. “We just have to hope that they can overcome their doubts and get married very soon.”
Sami nodded, lost in thought. A moment later she looked up at her mother. “I saw Kristen watching you and John together while we were waiting to find out if the wedding was going to happen. She didn’t look happy, and I *don’t* believe she was thinking about Bo and Hope.” Marlena pursed her lips and sighed. “Well, it’s not like we can really expect her to be happy for us, is it? I mean, I basically stole her life away from her.”
Sami shook her head in vigorous disagreement. “I don’t think John was ever really *hers*, Mom. From what I know of their relationship, she didn’t treat him all that well. And from what little contact I’ve had with her,” she added hesitantly, “I don’t think she’s all that…admirable…a person.”
Marlena nodded. “That’s the impression I’ve gotten, too, but, then, you and I are hardly objective observers. But I think that’s why I don’t feel as guilty as I probably should.” She shrugged. “We’re going to have to figure out a way to get along with her, for the baby’s sake. I will *not* be responsible for depriving John of contact with his child.”
Sami raised an eyebrow. “I think it’s much more likely that Kristen will *use* his child to make him remain an active part of *her* life.” Marlena ran her hand over the computer printout, head cocked thoughtfully. “You may be right.” She shot a confident glance toward

her daughter. “But it doesn’t make any difference. I trust John. And if it means he sees his child more often, then all I can say is, more power to her.”

Sami almost laughed. “You’re the most amazing woman, Mom.” Marlena grinned. “Why, thank you, sweetheart.” They idly thumbed through the magazines for a few moments; then both of them turned at the sound of a key rattling in the front doorlock.
John stepped through the door, his solemn face brightening at the sight of the two of them sitting on the couch. “Hey, you two.” Marlena beamed at him. “Hi, sweetheart.” Her smile faded into a look of concern. “How’d it go with Bo?” John tossed the keys on the coffee table and collapsed on the couch next to Marlena. He gathered her gently into his arms, sighing softly into her hair. “Not too good, Doc. He’s really hurting.”
Sami began to stack the home decorating magazines in neat piles on the coffee table. “I should think that *Hope* is the one with the right to be hurt,” she pointed out. “She found Bo in Billie’s arms on their wedding day!”
John nodded, tightening his embrace around Marlena. “I know. But Bo insists it was all a misunderstanding and I believe him. He says he only cares about Billie as a friend and was worried for her safety. That’s the only reason he went out to Smith island the night before his wedding.”
Sami cocked her head to the side, admiring her symmetrical stacks. “Maybe…” She bit her lip. “The one who really gets hurt in all of this is Shawn-Douglas. I just hope they remember that.” Marlena nodded, her cheek resting against John’s chest. She could see the dark sheen of painful memory in Sami’s eyes. “I hope so, too, honey.” They were silent for a moment. John gave Marlena another squeeze. “So…what have you two ladies been up to this morning?”
Sami grinned at him. “We’ve been trying to figure out a color scheme for the new house.” She held up one of the magazines. “What do you think of white and beige?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Are those actually colors? Sounds more like an absence-of-color scheme to me.” Sami and Marlena began to laugh. Marlena reached up and caressed his cheek. “Actually, we’d already eliminated that one as impractical for a house full of children. But we really do need to start narrowing

down our choices. Especially-” she said, reaching for the computer printout “-since we have our first batch of houses to look at this morning.” She looked up at him. “That is, if you’re not busy.”

He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Nope. I’m all yours until this afternoon, when I have a meeting with Abe scheduled. He’s going to update me on the progress of the investigation into your kidnapping.”
Marlena grimaced. “I’ll pass on that, thanks. Belle has a checkup this afternoon, anyway. But that gives us the whole rest of the morning to search for our new abode. Shall we take the kids along?” He smiled at her. “Why not? We might as well see just how kid-proof the houses are before we decide to buy one of them!” ***

Kristen caressed her protesting belly as she drove along the highway toward Brookville, her mind a tumult of fear and longing. Please be there, Father. I need you so much! With a grimace of guilt she remembered the betrayed look in her mother’s eyes when she had walked in on Kristen and Peter making plans to find Stefano. Kristen knew her mother despised Stefano with all her being – and hated that her daughter would ever go to him for help. I’m sorry, Mother, I really am, she thought desperately. But I have to do everything I can to safeguard my baby’s future. We *need* John. And I have to do everything I can to make sure that he’ll be with us.
Kristen squinted toward the side of the road, anxiously searching for the small sign that signalled the proper turnoff. The Lafferty farmhouse, she thought, chuckling ruefully. Stefano does love his irony. And he had more chutzpah than was good for him. Imprisoning Marlena in the same place where he’d held her kidnapped twins, the place where John’s identity as the Pawn had finally been revealed…knowing all the while that it was probably the last place anyone would think to look. It was a monumental act of gall that almost took her breath away. But it had worked! No one had even mentioned the farmhouse during all those long, interminable months of searching for Marlena. And they still didn’t know where she’d been held, thanks to her convenient memory loss. Stefano had enough hubris to still be there, too. He did so love to live dangerously.
Kristen’s eyes scanned the treeline restlessly as her car sped down the road. Please be there, Father…Please…

***

“This place is *enormous*, John!” Sami exclaimed, her voice echoing in the emptiness of the cavernous living room. She bounced Belle on her hip and pushed Will’s stroller over toward the window. “And just look at this view!”
Brady squirmed in his father’s arms. John lowered his son to the floor as his gaze took in the extravagant interior of the house. Brady raced over toward the large sliding glass doors, which opened up on a wide back porch and a view of verdant, rolling hills. He pressed his nose to the glass, waving his arms excitedly. “Look, Daddy. There’s a pool!”
The slim blonde real estate agent grinned at this show of enthusiasm. “That’s right, young man. And I think there’s also a tree house hidden up one of the oak trees in the back yard.” Brady turned back toward his father, a beaming smile on his face. “A tree house! Cool!” He raced back to John and tugged on his pants leg imploringly. “I like this one, Daddy!”
Marlena turned her laughing gaze on John. “Well, it looks like this house meets all of Brady’s requirements.” She turned back to the realtor, whose black nametag read CJ Johnson. “But John and I probably need just a little bit more information before we decide to buy it.”
CJ grinned. “I understand.” She looked down at her clipboard. “In keeping with your requirements, there are ten bedrooms – nine of them upstairs, four in the east wing and five in the west, with two full baths in each wing and a recreation room at the end of the east wing. The master bedroom is downstairs at the end of the west wing. It has a built-in jacuzzi and opens onto a sun porch. There are four other rooms on the ground floor of the west wing, in addition to another full bath. The previous owners used two of them as offices, one as a library, and the last as a nursery. The downstairs east wing houses the kitchen and the dining room, as well as recessed quarters for the household servants and the laundry room. And this…” she said, waving her arm to indicate the cavernous room in which they were standing, “is the living room.”
Marlena blinked. “Well, that certainly sounds…adequate.” Sami choked on a laugh. “Oh yes, *adequate*.” She affected a mock British accent, and said in her best Robin Leach imitation, “A simple home of

modest proportions for a cozy family of *nine*.”

CJ grinned at them as she checked her watch. “Why don’t you explore the house while I make a phone call from my car? I’ll be glad to answer any questions you might have when I return.” They nodded, and she disappeared down the front hallway.
John had a slightly stunned look on his face. “Doc, can you believe this place? It’s *huge*!” Her brow furrowed in concern. “It’s not too big, is it? I mean, too expensive? We really could look at something smaller.” He turned toward her, fighting back an embarrassed grin. “To tell you the truth, Doc, we could probably buy about twenty houses just like this and never miss the money. I just…haven’t ever done it before.” She chuckled at his embarrassment. “Well, Sami and I are willing to settle for only one – for the moment. Right, Sweetie?”
Sami sighed gustily, pretending to be greatly put upon. “I suppose…” Belle twisted around excitedly in her arms. “More!” she demanded, tugging on Sami’s hair. Sami grinned down at her. “You want to see the rest, Squirt?” Belle nodded enthusiastically. Sami laughed. “Well, then, let’s take your nephew here and see what there is to see.” She looked up at Marlena and John, who nodded their permission. Sami and Belle set off down the hallway toward the east wing, Will’s stroller bumping merrily over the carpet. Brady trailed after them, chattering excitedly.
John pulled Marlena into his arms as their voices faded away. He kissed her softly. “So, Doc, what do you think? Can you see us living a place like this?” Marlena tightened her hold around John’s waist. “I don’t know,” she murmured, her voice full of wonder. “Never in a million years did I dream of owning a home like this one…But I think I might be willing to try it.”
John bit his lip to keep from laughing. “That’s big of you.” She chuckled. “Isn’t it though? The sacrifices I’m willing to make for you…” John bent down, wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her up in the air, twirling her around the living room until she was breathless. When they finally whirled to a halt, he pulled her tightly to him as she slowly slid down the front of his body, causing sparks of desire to shoot down his spine. She gave him a lingering kiss and asked softly, “What was that for?”
He caressed her cheek with his hand. “Because you make me so

damn happy, I want to tell the world.” He captured her lips in another soft kiss. “I love you, Doc.” Her eyes darkened with tender emotion. “I love you, too.” She shifted in his arms until they were both facing the back doors, her arms hugging his to her waist. He kissed the top of her head and sighed contentedly. “So, Doc, what *do* you think of this place?”

“I think it’s absolutely beautiful, John. I’ve always liked these houses around the lake. And there’s just something about this place…it *feels* right.” He nodded in agreement. “The back of the acreage runs up against Vic’s estate. If we bought it, Brady and Belle would be able to ride their horses a lot more often.” She tilted her head up to look at him, surprise written on her face. He nodded again. “Vic bought them each a horse. Belle’s not quite big enough to ride hers yet, but she loves to feed him carrots. Brady’s turned into quite a little horseman, though.”
Marlena shook her head ruefully. “You know, I have a really hard time reconciling what I know about Victor Kiriakis with the man you’ve described to me.”
John was silent for a moment. “Vic has changed a lot, Doc. Finding out about…Finding out that Izzy B. was his daughter had a really big effect on the man. She told him the day Brady was born that if he promised to change, he could be a part of her son’s life. And he’s kept that promise, even though she isn’t around to remind him anymore. He’s a good grandfather, to both Belle and Brady, and he’s been a great father-in-law to me.” He sighed. “I just wish the prognosis for his condition was a little more hopeful. There’s been very little improvement in all the months since his stroke.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered softly, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. He gave her a grateful hug in return. “Thanks, Doc. But nobody’s giving up on him just yet. Not me, not Kate…not even Vivian.” Her brow furrowed. “Vivian? *Your* Aunt Vivian? The ‘less-than-admirable’ Aunt Vivian?” He grimaced. “Yeah. *Technically* she’s Victor’s wife, but only because she tricked him into marrying her. He was trying to get a divorce when he had the stroke. But as devious and ruthless as she’s been, I believe that she genuinely cares about him. She’d do anything to help him get better – we all would.”
Marlena cocked her head, considering his statement. “Do you think

seeing the kids would help? We could arrange a visit.” John squeezed her tightly. “That’s a great idea, Doc. I’ll call Kate about it later.” He took a deep breath. “But first, we have a house to tour.”

“That’s where I come in,” said a voice from behind them. They turned
to see CJ standing in the hallway, smiling. “So…do you have any
questions?” John and Marlena turned to look at each other, silent,
wordless communication flowing between them on currents of heated
electricity. They turned back toward CJ in unison and smiled. “When
can we move in?”
***
“Damn, damn, damn…” Kristen muttered as she fought her way through the thick undergrowth. She was flushed and hot and feeling none to well, the damp cold air chilling her skin even as perspiration ran down her face. “Where the *hell* is the damn farmhouse?” A tensile tree branch repelled by her sweeping hand swung back to slap her in the face. “Ouch! Dammit, Stefano, *what* were you thinking?” Her appreciation for her adoptive father’s cleverness in his choice of hideouts had decreased in direct proportion to the difficulty she was having finding the damn place. She knew that somehow, somewhere in all the undergrowth there probably existed a carefully hidden entrance through which she could have driven her car with no problem at all. Unfortunately, missing among her myriad of talents were the attributes of a bloodhound. She’d had to abandon her car a hundred yards back in order to claw her way through the bushes toward the sloping roof just visible above the treeline. “You’d better be here, Stefano,” she muttered threateningly, rubbing her aching back. Sighing, she raised her arms to continue her furious battle with Mother Nature.

Suddenly she found herself in a clearing, staring at a dilapidated wooden farmhouse with a sagging porch covered by drooping ivy. “This is it?” she exclaimed disgustedly – not because of the run-down look of the place, but because she couldn’t imagine her wealthy, cultured father ever condescending to live there. “This better not be a dead end,” she muttered darkly, thinking satisfyingly evil thoughts of the torture she would inflict on Peter’s source if he were wrong.
She reached a hand toward the porch railing, then stopped as a thought struck her. This is it, Kristen, my girl. The Point of No Return.

Until now, she hadn’t crossed that last line, not really. Hiding the letter had been unethical and sneaky…but not criminal. Telling Stefano the number of Marlena’s plane had been traitorous…but in the end, ineffectual. Pondering smothering the life out of Marlena had been morally offensive…but she hadn’t actually done it, had she? But joining forces with Stefano DiMera would be truly committing the unforgivable in John’s estimation. She closed her eyes in an agony of indecision. I could turn around, go back home, try and forge a life for myself and my child…remain John’s friend and build a relationship with him based on that. She opened her eyes again and stared at the ramshackle farmhouse. This is the place where Steve Johnson realized that John was the Pawn in my father’s master plan…this is the place where John began to run, not stopping until he ‘discovered’ his identity as Roman Brady and a life with Marlena…this is the place where Stefano held her twins hostage and threatened Marlena’s life to make her leave Salem with him… She shivered. So much evil in such a benign-looking place. She pressed her hands to her swollen belly, wondering if the twisting sensation she felt within was her conscience’s way of trying to reassert itself. You aren’t a part of *this* yet, it whispered. There’s still time to turn back. She turned around and looked out across the forest, a part of her genuinely tempted to leave, now, before it was too late. But that means saying goodbye to John and all your dreams, Kristen, returned another, more sinister part of her. Her eyes hardened. “No, I won’t,” she swore aloud fiercely. “I’ll do anything to keep from losing him!” Kristen could almost hear the slamming of a mental dungeon door on her fading conscience. She shrugged in dismissal, squared her shoulders, and mounted the rickety steps. She reached a hand toward the doorknob and twisted it. The door was unlocked. With an ominous screeching noise, it swung wide on rusted hinges. ***

CJ lifted up the clipboard and stared at the signatures on the bottom of the page, her expression slightly shocked. “I do believe this is the fastest sale I’ve ever made.” She smiled brightly. “Thanks!”
John and Marlena laughed. “Well, when the Doc and I make up our minds, we don’t see any reason to beat around the bush,” John said. “We just have a very good feeling about this place.” He knelt down in front of his two youngest children. “How ’bout you guys? Do you like

our new home?”

Belle giggled and nodded enthusiastically. Brady grinned. “We already picked out our rooms, Daddy.” He glanced up at his older sister. “Sami gets the one with the balcony, and Will gets the one next to her. And me and Belle wanna be right next to the stairs.”
“Belle and I, Brady,” Marlena corrected automatically. She smiled at them. “We can’t move in here just yet, guys. We have to buy some furniture first, and make sure that we don’t need to have any work done.” Grimacing slightly, she turned back to CJ and asked in an uncertain voice, “*Does* it need any work?” She laughed. “Guess maybe we should have asked before signing on the dotted line, hmm?”
CJ smiled. “Structurally, the house is completely sound, the kitchen is state-of-the-art, and all the fixtures are modern. Whatever improvements you might want to make would be in the area of interior decoration. Do you have anything in particular in mind?” They looked at each other and burst out laughing. Sami shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Well, we’ve managed to eliminate white and beige!”
Not quite understanding the joke, but charmed by their happy family portrait, CJ grinned at them and held her arms wide. “Well, congratulations to all of you!” She reached into her purse, extracted a set of keys, and dropped them into Marlena’s outstretched palm. “You are now the proud owners of a beautiful new home. I hope you’ll all be very happy here.”
John smiled down at Marlena, who returned his look with a happy grin
of her own. “Bet on it.”
Chapter 31
Kristen jerked to a halt in the middle of the cobwebbed living room, fists clinched, her belly roiling in frustration. “Nothing!” she spat angrily. “I’ve been through this damn house four times, and I haven’t found *anything* to indicate anyone has been here since 1985.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she hissed, “*Someone* is going to pay for this.” She stalked toward the door, then stopped abruptly in her tracks as what she had just said suddenly penetrated her angry fog. Slowly, she perused the room again. “Of course, if this *were* Stefano’s hideout, there *wouldn’t* be anything to indicate he was here, Kristen. That’s why they call it a *hideout*.” She thought back to

Stefano’s other haunts – the mansion, Maison Blanche, the penthouse next to Marlena’s. “Secret room,” she murmured. “There’s always a secret room.” She squared her shoulders and turned back toward the living room. “Well, if he can build it, I can find it…and then John’s precious *Doc* won’t know what hit her.” ***

“Hey, Abraham,” John called as he strode into Abe’s office, flinging the door open without knocking. It hit the wall with a resounding crash. Abe looked up from his phone call, a smile of greeting and a frown of exasperation warring for possession of his face. He murmured a quick goodbye into the receiver and set it back into its cradle. “You could *knock*, John,” he pointed out with some asperity.
“Sorry,” John replied blithely. “Spent too many years *not* knocking. I used to own the key to this place, remember?” Abe laughed as he stood up behind the desk. “You did turn that back in when you resigned, didn’t you?” he asked, one eyebrow raised in enquiry.
John’s brow furrowed. “Well, I don’t quite remember, partner. I don’t believe I ever did resign, actually. I took a leave of absence…and then I found out I wasn’t Roman, and the department gave him my job…and my office.” Abe flinched slightly, but he could detect no hint of resentment in John’s voice. “Um, right.” John settled on a corner of Abe’s desk, smiling faintly. “It’s *okay*, Abe. It was a long time ago, and I’m over it.”
Abe studied his face intently for a few moments. “You really are, aren’t
you?” His coffee-colored eyes began to twinkle. “But if I’m not
mistaken, this is a fairly *recent* development. I wonder what brought
it on?” John grinned in reply. “Well, it might have something to do with
a certain beautiful blonde.” Abe laughed. “Really? And who might that
be?” John brought his index finger to his lips in a shushing motion, an
unsuccessfully stifled smile causing his lips to twitch. “Quiet, Abe. It’s
a secret.” Abe chuckled. “Not to anyone who knows the two of *you*, it
isn’t.” He clapped John familiarly on the shoulder. “Congratulations,
buddy.” John looked up at him, his eyes glinting with gratitude at this
offering from Roman Brady’s best friend. “Thanks, Abe. That means a
lot.”
***
“Hello, Paulette.”

Paulette Sandene, Registered Nurse, looked up from her computer to see Dr. Marlena Evans smiling at her, a beautiful little girl sound asleep against her shoulder, a large purple lollipop clutched in her hand. “Dr. Evans!” she exclaimed, startled. “It’s so wonderful to see you!” Marlena’s lips twitched. “Same goes for me.” She leaned forward and confided in a conspiratorial whisper, “You have no idea how glad I am to see a familiar face.”

“Oh,” Paulette bit her lip. “That’s right, Dr. Horton told us about your amnesia. I’m so sorry.” Marlena smiled. “It’s all right. I’m managing.” She looked down at her daughter, her expression tender. “I may have forgotten some things, but I’ve gained so much that it’s hard to feel angry.” She looked back up at Paulette. “Besides, Mike told me the memory loss probably isn’t permanent. I’m sure it will all come back to me soon.” Gently, she began to extricate the lollipop from Belle’s limp fingers. “I’m sure it will,” Paulette replied. “Will you be coming back to work soon? Your patients have been asking about you.”
Marlena lowered her eyes as she absently licked the lollipop. “I’m not sure. I don’t believe it would really be fair to my patients if I came back at this point. My playing catch-up might be detrimental to their continued treatment. And Mike hasn’t certified me fit to come back to work yet.” She smiled ruefully. “Not that that would stop me, normally. But John’s been watching me like a hawk.”
Paulette grinned at her. “Mr. Black cares about you very much.” Her tone left no doubt that she knew just exactly *how* much. Marlena looked up at her, surprised. “You knew about that?” Paulette rolled her eyes laughingly. “*Everybody* knew about that…except for you and Mr. Black.” Marlena bit her lip in consternation, but finally burst out laughing. “Well, why didn’t you tell *us*, for Pete’s sake? It sounds like we could have used all the help we could get!” Paulette cocked her head, smiling. “We thought you’d figure it out eventually…and it was so much fun to watch!”
“Mmmm,” Marlena replied, unconvinced, but finally she shrugged in acceptance. “I suppose everything did work out, in the end. No matter *what* Stefano DiMera tried to do.” Paulette’s smile faded. “Has there been any news?” she asked soberly. Marlena shook her head. “No…And I’m torn between hoping there will be, and hoping we never hear anything about him ever again.” Paulette nodded in

understanding. “That man’s a blasted menace. I wish he’d just learn to accept reality and leave your family alone.”

Marlena nodded. “You and me both.” She hitched Belle up higher on her hip and caressed her cheek with her hand. “You’re worn out, aren’t you, Sweetie?” she whispered softly to her sleeping daughter. “Well, it’s been a very tiring day. We’ll get you home just as soon as your sister comes back from changing your nephew.” She looked back up at Paulette. “Belle had her booster shots today, poor thing, but she came through it like a trooper.”
Paulette cocked an eyebrow and stifled a grin. “So now you’re eating her lollipop? Shame on you!” Marlena grimaced guiltily. “There are a few more of them in my purse. I thought I’d bribe her into forgetting I just stood there while the doctor stuck her with needles.” Paulette laughed. “She’ll get over it, Dr. Evans. They always do.”
“Dr. Evans? Dr. *Marlena* Evans?” The sound of a low male voice caused both women to look up. Marlena missed the grimace of distaste that crossed Paulette’s face as her gaze took in the tall, dark-haired man standing before her, clad in a white medical jacket and sober navy tie, a clipboard tapping impatiently against his knee, a well-practiced scowl on his face. “Are you Dr. Marlena Evans?”
She winced at the anger in his voice and the contempt in his gaze as he looked her up and down, his scowl deepening at the sight of her faded blue jeans, untucked oxford shirt, dilapidated sneakers and half-eaten lollipop. She raised her chin defiantly and curled her hand protectively around Belle’s back. “Yes, that’s me.” His contempt became even more overt. “You have some explaining to do, Doctor.” ***
“Yes!” Kristen cried exultantly as the loose paneling in the back of the bedroom closet finally gave way. A rush of stale air wafted out from the opening, causing her to choke and cough. Uh oh, she thought. That probably means no one’s been here in a while. She shook her head angrily. “Well, if he isn’t here, then I’ll just find something that’ll tell me where he’s gone, that’s all.” She took a tentative step into the opening, wishing absently that she’d thought to bring a flashlight. She extended her hand along the wall, trying to feel her way forward, and her hand met the hard protuberance of a shelf. “Speak of the devil,” she murmured when her hand encountered a large square flashlight.

She clicked it on. The soft white beam illuminated a dark cobweb-laden stairwell. The battery still works! It can’t have been here long…

“I’m coming, Father,” she whispered, and, stepping gingerly into the
blackness, she began her descent.
***
“So Marlena knows everything now?” John nodded. “Even about – God help me – the exorcism. I told her all about the possession yesterday after we got back from Bo and Hope’s nonexistent wedding. She made some comment about St. Luke’s looking a bit different, and that led to a discussion of the Desecrator, and, in the end, I told her everything.” Abe regarded him compassionately. “So how’d she take it?”
John grimaced. “Better than I expected, actually. Not that I know what I expected, really. She just looked at me, a little perplexed, and said, ‘Did you hear what you just said, John?’, and I said I had, and she asked, ‘Do you believe what you just said?’ and I said I did. She thought that over for a few minutes, and then she said, ‘Well, I know you wouldn’t lie to me, John. If you say I was possessed, then I was possessed.’ And I said, ‘You were, Doc, but it’s over now.’ Then she looked up at me in that way she does and said, ‘Thank you for saving my life, John. Do you mind if we don’t talk about it ever again?'” John smiled ruefully. “I said I didn’t mind at all. And that was that.” Abe frowned. “Do you think she’s okay?”
John sighed. “I don’t know, Abraham. Sometimes I get the feeling she’s just decided to disregard everything bad that happened during the time she’s forgotten.” He grimaced. “I can’t say that I blame her for wanting to, and I don’t really see what it hurts. She and Sami are okay now, and Roman isn’t here. We have so much to look forward to. It seems a shame to ruin that by dwelling on things we can’t change anyway.” Abe didn’t look convinced, but he shrugged his acceptance. “If you say so, buddy. You know her better than I do.”
John studied the pictures on Abe’s desk absently. “Yeah…” Suddenly a wide smile crossed his face and he looked back up at Abe. “Guess what we did this morning!” Abe choked on a laugh. “No way, John. Some things aren’t *any* of my business.”
John looked nonplussed for a moment before comprehension dawned. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Abe.” Abe cocked an

eyebrow at him and didn’t reply. John’s face reddened. “Damn…I haven’t blushed in years. That’s *not* what I was talking about.” Abe shrugged, eyes twinkling. “Okay, John, whatever you say.” John shot him an exasperated look. “We bought a *house*, Abe.”

Abe’s smile faded as he realized John was serious. “You bought a house,” he repeated blankly. John nodded. “But I didn’t know you were even looking for a new house, John.” “Well, we just started…today, in fact. It was the second house we looked at.” Abe thought about that for a moment, a smile slowly blooming on his face. “The second house you looked at…” he murmured, grinning at a suddenly uncomfortable John. “Damn, it must be nice to be rich.”
John looked away, embarrassed. “Well, Sami and Will are moving in with us, and we needed some more room,” he mumbled finally. Abe took pity on his poor friend. “That’s great, John. I’m really happy for all of you. So where is this new palace?” John compressed his lips, the tips of his ears still pink with embarrassment. “Next to Vic’s,” he admitted finally, not meeting Abe’s gaze. Abe hit his ear with his flattened palm, as if trying to restore his hearing. “What’d you just say?”
John looked up at him, his eyes flashing with a combination of irritation and amusement. “I said,” he replied, enunciating each word clearly as if speaking to an especially dimwitted young child, “that Marlena and I bought the house next to Victor’s.” Abe laughed in disbelief. “But that place is *huge*, John. It must have eight bedrooms, at least.” John finally began to smile. “Ten, actually.” Abe blinked. “Ten…” He shook his head ruefully. “My God, you’ve come a long way, John.”
John looked around the dingy confines of Abe’s office, overcome by a sudden feeling of nostalgia. “Not all that far, Abe. I just inherited a lot of money I never did anything to earn. Nothing else has changed.” He looked back at Abe. “Not the way I feel about my friends.” Abe smiled. “Not the way I feel about my family.” John took a deep breath, exhaled slowly, and smiled. “And *definitely* not the way I feel about Doc.”
Abe clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. “And not the way she feels
about you.” John grinned at him. He grinned back. “So, when do Lexie
and I get the grand tour?”
***

Kristen shined the beam of her flashlight around the empty cavernous room at the bottom of the stairwell, finally bringing it to rest on the set of large double doors on the opposite wall. “I recognize those doors,” she murmured softly, walking over to stand next to them. She reached out and ran her hand over the intricate inlay, so at odds with the rustic appearance of the rest of the house. Her brow furrowed as she struggled to remember, and she rubbed her aching back distractedly. The images from the virtual reality goggles had faded with the passage of time, as memories often did, but she thought the doors in front of her resembled the doors outside the bars of Marlena’s gilded cage. She set the flashlight on the ground and brought both palms up to brace against the doors. “Are you in here, Father?” she murmured in a low singsong voice. “Are you here?” Her gaze roamed the ornate carving, searching desperately for a latch or a doorknob that would allow her entrance into the inner sanctum. But there was nothing. She pounded her fists on the unyielding wood, desperate not to fail when she’d come so close. “Father!” she screamed desperately. “Stefano! You have to help me! I need you!”

The beam of the flashlight caught on a sparkle of metal on the wall next to the door. She peered closely at it and discerned a number pad not unlike the one next to the door of Marlena’s penthouse. She closed her eyes, pained. While Stefano seemed to have no trouble waltzing through Marlena’s door without batting an eyelash, her breaking and entering skills were considerably less advanced. If this security system was anywhere near as complex as the one in the penthouse, she had absolutely no chance of getting through the doors.
She turned back toward the stairwell, anger and frustration quickening her breathing. “It’s not fair!” she screamed up at the ceiling; it remained silent, looming mockingly overhead. She whirled back toward the door and slammed both fists into it, wincing at the sharp crack of bone against wood. “Stefano! STEFANO!! Answer me, you detestable son-of-a-bitch! Where the bloody hell ARE you?!?” She continued to rain ineffective blows on the unyielding wood, welcoming the sharp pains that came with each punch. Finally, exhausted, she turned her back and leaned against it, sliding down slowly until she was sitting on the floor. Tears of anger and despair streamed down

her face. “What am I going to do?” she moaned miserably to her distended belly. “Stefano was our last hope.”

The small occupant twisted and heaved in protest. She rubbed a soothing hand over it. “Don’t you worry, little baby. I’ll get your Daddy back for us. I just have to come up with something new.” She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the wood with a hollow thump. She tried to relax, calm her racing mind, and catch her breath.
The first stabbing pain caught her completely by surprise. ***
“Do I know you?” Marlena asked, her tone cold and rigidly polite. Belle stirred uncomfortably in her arms, half-awakened by the sudden tension in her mother’s body.
The scowling doctor crossed his arms. “No, I don’t suppose you do, actually.” He gave her a mock bow and said in a voice dripping with sarcasm, “Dr. James Reilly, Chief of Staff for University Hospital. But then, you’d have to come to work once in a while to know *that*, now wouldn’t you?”
Marlena rubbed Belle’s back soothingly and darted a quick glance toward Paulette, who was pretending intense interest in the screen of her computer, her mouth set in a grim line of distaste. Marlena looked back toward Reilly. “I have a very good reason for not knowing who you are, Doctor-” she began, but Paulette interrupted with warning glance. “He just started here last week, Dr. Evans, and he isn’t quite up-to-speed yet.”
“*Thank* you so much, Nurse,” Reilly spat in Arctic tones. “Don’t you have somewhere else to *be* right now?” Paulette shot Marlena an apologetic look under her lashes, hefted a stack of patient charts in her arms and departed quickly, her back stiff with protest. Marlena watched her go, then turned back to Dr. Reilly, her eyes blazing. “There was no need to treat Paulette in that manner. She was merely trying to prevent you from saying anything else that you might regret later.”
His gaze was cold. “I sincerely doubt I could ever possibly regret anything I said to you regarding your incredibly poor work habits.” He held up a file. “I’ve been reviewing the employee records of the psychiatric department this morning, and I am utterly appalled that such flagrant absenteeism has been allowed to continue without

appropriate disciplinary action. My predecessor obviously cared little for the quality of psychiatric care for the patients in this hospital.” He slammed the file down on the counter. “You will not find that is true in *my* case, Dr. Evans. You *will* come to work, or you’ll find yourself out of a job.” He arched a brow toward her attire. “And when you grace us with your presence, I expect you to dress professionally. *Am* I making myself clear?” he ended in a near shout.

The noise succeeded in finally waking Belle. She opened her eyes, stared wide-eyed at the strange man glaring at her mother and began to sob fretfully. “Momma,” she cried, reaching up to grab a fistful of Marlena’s shirt.
Marlena’s eyes stung with the rage she was trying to contain for her daughter’s sake. “It’s okay, baby,” she whispered soothingly, but Belle’s cries only grew louder. They drew the attention of her bodyguard, who had been loitering unobtrusively in the lounge. “Dr. Evans?” She and Reilly both turned to regard the new participant in their conversation. “Is everything okay, Dr. Evans?” Frank asked, giving Reilly a hard glare. Scaring a little kid that way…
She took a deep breath. “Everything’s fine, Frank. Why don’t you go see if Sami needs a little help with Will and Brady?” Her soothing touch was beginning to quiet her young daughter. Frank frowned. “But Mr. Black told me to stay with you.” Marlena sighed, exasperated. “I hardly think anything is going to happen to me in the middle of a busy hospital, Frank. The Chief of Staff and I were just having a small difference of opinion. It’s nothing for you to be concerned about. And the sooner we get Sami and the boys, the sooner we can go home.”
He gave Reilly another glare, then nodded reluctantly. “All right. I’ll be right back.” He took off down the hall, aiming one final warning glance at Reilly over his shoulder.Reilly watched him leave, his angry scowl tinged with a bit of puzzlement. “Who *is* that?”
Marlena handed Belle the remains of the lollipop. The little girl licked it happily, her momentary upset forgotten now that the adults were speaking in something resembling a civilized tone. Marlena looked up to find Reilly’s gaze on her, a frown still marring his features. “That was my bodyguard,” she stated simply, enjoying the surprise he wasn’t quite quick enough to hide.
“Why do *you* need a bodyguard,” he asked, his tone implying that

she wasn’t worth the fuss. Marlena dropped a kiss on the top of Belle’s head. “Because the man I love is worried that the man who kidnapped me last fall is going to try again…the way he has so many times before. You see, he’s worried that I’ll lose my job due to unauthorized absenteeism as a result of being kidnapped.” She offered him a totally insincere smile.

He swallowed, suddenly unsure. “You were kidnapped,” he repeated in a tone of studied disbelief. She nodded. “That’s right. *And* I was shot, which is why I’m on medical leave. Mike Horton is my doctor, if you have any questions. Are you finished yelling, or would you like to upset my daughter a bit more?”
He had the grace to look mildly embarrassed, but his belligerence still held full-force. “I didn’t mean to upset your kid. Look…is this on the up and up? That stuff about kidnapping isn’t in your file, and frankly, at your rate of absenteeism, you’d have to be kidnapped a couple of times a year to explain all the lost time!” Marlena compressed her lips worriedly. She wondered how much work she *had* missed. It had obviously been a stressful past few years. “Actually, Dr. Reilly-” she began, only to be cut off by another newcomer.
“Marlena!” She turned to see two people walking toward them, a slight brunette woman and a tall man with curly blond hair. “How *are* you, darling?” the woman asked breathlessly. “The way John’s been talking I thought you were at death’s door, but you look simply marvelous!”
Marlena looked from the woman to Reilly and back again. Clearly the doctor had no more idea who these two were than she did. “I’m sorry,” she began, but the woman cut her off again. “It’s *Vivian*, dear.” The blond man cleared his throat, and Vivian waved distracted fingers. “Oh, and Ivan, of course.” Marlena nodded slowly in comprehension. “John’s aunt..” she murmured. “Of course,” Vivian replied, smiling brightly, then she turned and offered her hand to the doctor, palm-down, as if expecting him to kiss it. Bemused, he gave it a gingerly shake. “Vivian Alamain Kiriakis,” she informed him loftily, glancing at his ID badge. “And you’re our new Chief of Staff, aren’t you? How marvelous. I’d been wondering when I’d finally get a chance to meet you.” He nodded. “James Reilly.”
Vivian waved her hand negligently. “Oh, I know *that*. You see, I sit on the Board of Directors of this hospital, or at least I do while my poor

Victor is incapacitated. I myself voted in favor of your appointment just a few short weeks ago.” She offered him a blinding smile. He bit back a sarcastic retort. “Well, thank you, Mrs. Kiriakis, but I really must be returning to work now.” He shot Marlena a hard glance, and advised in menacing tones, “*Do* let me know if and when you intend to return to work. Let me know very very soon.” He turned his back on them and strode swiftly through the lounge.

Vivian and Ivan glanced at each other before turning back to Marlena. “Well, he was rather rude, wasn’t he?” Vivian offered finally. “Perhaps I made a mistake in choosing him after all.” Marlena shook her head and eyed the strange pair. “I’m afraid I’m the one he’s angry with, but that’s not your concern.” Vivian smiled at her. “Of course it’s my concern, Marlena. After all, I’m the great-aunt of that adorable child you’re holding.” Marlena’s arms tightened instinctively around her daughter, but Vivian pretended not to notice. “She’s the image of you, Marlena, except for the eyes. *They* belong to John.”
“Mom?” Sami and Frank rounded the corner and stopped short in surprise at the odd group before them. Sami bounced Will on her hip, and he let out a loud yawn. “Is everything okay?” Marlena sighed. “I suppose, Sweetie.” She glanced at Brady, somnolent against the bodyguard’s wide shoulder. “I think we’d better get the kids home for their naps. This day has held a bit too much excitement for them, I’m afraid.” She turned back to Vivian and Ivan and offered them a small smile. “It looks like we’re going to be neighbors. John and I just bought the house next to the Kiriakis estate this morning.” She grabbed her purse from the counter and motioned for Frank and Sami to follow her. “It was nice to meet you both. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.” They took off toward the elevators, Sami pausing momentarily to shoot Vivian and Ivan a hard glare over her shoulder before rounding the corner.
Vivian stared at the empty corridor, eyes narrowed speculatively. “Isn’t
that interesting, Ivan?” Ivan eyed her and sighed. “If you say so,
Madame.”
***
When Kristen regained her senses, the first thing she was conscious of was the hard wooden floor underneath her cheek. What’s going on? she thought blearily, before another searing pain from her abdomen

brought her to full consciousness. Oh, my God, the baby! she thought, panicked. I’m losing the baby! “NOoo…” she moaned, wrapping her arms around her stomach as if that could stop all internal processes. “I *can’t* lose my baby.” She looked longingly toward the stairwell, thinking of the celphone in her purse in the car. I just have to get up there and call for help. She managed to roll over on her knees before the next wave of pain hit, slightly less severely than before. “You can do this, Kristen. Just get to the car.” She pictured the front seat in her mind, but was vaguely surprised to find she couldn’t picture her purse. Which one did I use today? Her panic escalated as she realized that in her haste to find Stefano she might possibly have forgotten to bring her purse along…and the accompanying phone. What if it’s not there? she agonized. What am I going to do? She bit her lip so hard that she tasted blood as it mingled with the tears streaming down her face. The next pain caused her to collapse back on the floor.

Father, she thought brokenly, before the blackness claimed her once again. Where are you when I need you?
***
Abe snatched the picture of Lexie from John’s hand and gave him a quelling frown for good measure. “Don’t keep me in suspense, John. Just tell me – are you going to make an honest woman of Marlena, or are you just going to live in sin in that great big mansion?”
John laughed, but his eyes were clouded. “You know I want nothing more than to be with Doc for the rest of my life, Abe.” He looked down at his hands. “But I’m not sure it would be fair to marry her before her memory comes back.” Abe carefully returned the picture of his wife to its place on the desk. “I thought you believed what Laura said about Marlena’s feelings for you before she was kidnapped.” John shrugged noncommitally and didn’t answer. “For what it’s worth,” Abe offered cautiously, “Lexie said Marlena told her much the same thing after Aremid, when she was staying at your loft.”
John looked up, surprised. “Really?” Abe nodded. John sighed heavily and looked back down. “I *do* believe she loved me, Abe,” he admitted quietly. “But I can’t help wondering if she had decided that it wasn’t enough, and *that’s* why she really didn’t tell me, not just because of the baby. Sometimes all the love in the world just isn’t enough.” He looked back up at his friend. “Do I have the right to make

that decision for her?”

Abe placed a comforting hand on his arm. “You aren’t, John. Marlena may have lost her memory, but she’s still perfectly capable of making her own decisions. You just have to let her.” John offered him a wan smile. “Maybe you’re right,” he said finally. “Maybe-” The ringing of Abe’s phone cut his reply short.
Abe shot him an apologetic glance as he picked up the receiver. “Carver…what?…when?…Are you sure?….Is he absolutely
positive?…Okay…No, it’ll be the plan we discussed before. Give me thirty minutes.” He slammed the phone down and looked up at John, eyes wide. “We got a lead on Stefano. You’re never going to believe this, John.” He squeezed John’s shoulder with his hand. “The Lafferty farmhouse.” John’s eyes widened in shock. Abe nodded. “The Lafferty farmhouse,” he repeated. “The bastard’s been right here under our noses the whole damn time.”
John leapt up from the desk, shrugging into his jacket as he strode swiftly toward the door. “Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!” Chapter 32
The only sound that reached her ears was the soft whisper of moving air. She kept her eyes closed, unwilling to open them and face the loss she knew was coming. If she just stayed asleep – if she never woke again – then life would never become completely unbearable. She would not lose her mind.
Screwing her eyes tightly shut, hugging her arms to her achingly empty belly, Kristen willed herself to sink back into dark unconsciousness. Her last thoughts were of John. ***

John stared at the dilapidated farmhouse just visible through the intervening curtain of trees. He knew it was merely a trick of his memory that made the house look *exactly* as it had the last time he saw it all those years ago – intellectually, he knew it had weathered years and storms and neglect to look considerably worse for wear. But as he gazed at it he felt an unerring sense of deja vu. He had come here once before searching desperately for answers, but afraid that what he would find would tear him from Marlena Evans forever. He was feeling that way again.
Stop it! he ordered himself vehemently, shaking his head to rid himself

of such defeatist thoughts. Doc loves me and we’re together and nothing we could possibly find in this damn place could ever change that! But he couldn’t stop the overwhelming feeling of dread that rose up within him to grasp him by the throat. He let out a strangled cough. Abe’s hushed voice brought him out of his reverie. “You okay, buddy?” his friend whispered, covering the headset microphone he wore with his hand so his query wouldn’t be heard by the surrounding officers. John swallowed thickly and nodded. “Are we going in now?” he asked hoarsely.

Abe shook his head. “My men are going to sweep the place first.” He held up a hand to forestall John’s inevitable rebuttal. “They’re going in first, John, and there is nothing you can do about it. I will *not* be forced to explain to Marlena how I got you killed in some trap of Stefano’s because I didn’t follow police procedure.” He signalled to the lead officer, just visible in her vantage point behind the bushes next to the porch. The black-suited team immediately swarmed into the house, accompanied by another team performing the same maneuvers from the back entrance. Their passage was so silent that John had to resist the urge to clear his ears, knowing that nothing was wrong with his hearing. “Your people know their jobs,” he complimented Abe in a grudging tone.
Abe gave him a grim smile of thanks. “They really want Stefano, John.
The Salem Police Force is sick of him walking all over them, using
procedure and protocol to evade the law.” He turned a steely gaze
back toward the farmhouse. “If he’s in there, we’ll catch him.” One
paint-darkened face appeared in the front window, and a black gloved
hand flashed toward them in a series of complicated signals. John
turned a baffled gaze on Abe, who returned it with one filled with
implacable purpose. “She says they’ve found something,” he
whispered, standing up and brushing the dirt from his knees. “Let’s
go.”
***
Sami’s foot paused on the bottom step of the staircase as she eyed her mother, who lay curled on the couch, limp with exhaustion. Marlena’s eyes were closed, her brow slightly furrowed as if she were perplexed about something…or fighting a really bad headache. “Mom?”

Marlena answered without opening her eyes. “Is everyone all tucked in?” Sami crossed the living room to stand next to the couch. “Yes. I had to read Green Eggs and Ham to Brady twice, but he finally nodded off. And Belle and Will never even woke up.” Marlena managed a weak smile. “That’s good…Thanks for putting them down, honey.”

Sami remained silent for a moment, then asked, “What’s wrong, Mom? Is it Vivian? You know, you really shouldn’t pay attention to anything she says. She may be John’s aunt, but she’s a first-rate kook.”

Marlena’s smile grew a tiny bit wider. “Is she? I thought her friend Ivan was a bit odd, myself…No, honey, Vivian Alamain isn’t who’s bothering me, kook or no. Actually, Vivian sort of rescued me from the person who *was* bothering me.” She opened her eyes and rose up on her elbows, eyeing her daughter ruefully. Sami sat down on the arm of the couch. “Who was it?”
Marlena grimaced and swung her legs around to rest her feet on the floor. “I met the new Chief of Staff of University Hospital today,” she said, sighing. “His name is *Doctor* James Reilly. And he was *not* happy to meet me.” Sami frowned in confusion. “Why not? You’re a great shrink. Everybody says so.”
Marlena managed a low chuckle and reached over to squeeze Sami’s knee gratefully. “He wasn’t really questioning my abilities, Sami. He was more concerned about my…um, work ethic.” She grimaced. “Apparently, I’ve missed quite a lot of time at the hospital in the past few years.”
Sami slid down the arm of the couch and landed softly on a corner cushion. She shot her mother an incredulous glance. “None of that was *your* fault, Mom. It’s not like it was your choice to spend months trapped in a giant gilded cage.”
Marlena nodded ruefully. “No. And I told him the reason I missed all that time last fall. But apparently that wasn’t the only instance of absentia.” She raised an eyebrow at Sami. “Even though you and John and Carrie have told me everything that happened during the last five years, I haven’t yet assimilated enough of it to really mount a coherent defense against chronic absenteeism. I was trying to explain the memory loss to him when Vivian walked up and alienated him even further.” She grimaced. “Not that I think he would have believed

me anyway. The man definitely likes to cling to his opinions.”

Sami scowled. “Well, he’s just going to have to change them this time.” She reached for the spiral notebook and pen on the coffee table and impatiently flipped past pages of home decorating ideas to find a blank sheet. She looked up at her mother, a determined gleam in her eye. “I’m going to write a timeline for you explaining exactly why you missed the time you missed. You can give it to His Royal Highness Mr. Chief of Staff.” She grinned wickedly. “And then he can just go take a flying leap.”
Marlena was unable to stifle the laugh that mental image conjured up. She smiled gratefully at her daughter. “Thanks, Sami. I’d like that.” ***

John paused on the threshold of the hidden entrance in the back of the closet. “I never knew this was here,” he murmured to Abe, running his hands along the false wooden paneling resting against the wall.
“It might not have been,” Abe replied, peering down into the gloom of the stairwell. “It might be a more recent addition.” He looked back at John. “You ready? Whatever Seagull wants us to see is down this staircase.” John nodded, shooting Abe an embarrassed smile. “Yeah, I’m ready. I’m sorry Abe – it’s just…well, Stefano and dungeons together in my mind don’t make a very good combination, youknow?”
Fleeting comprehension crossed Abe’s face. “Oh, John, I’m sorry. I should have realized…Maybe you should let me check it out first.” John grabbed Abe’s arm. “No way, Abe. I’m not letting any ghosts from my past keep me from helping Doc.” He took a gingerly step into the darkness and turned back to grin at Abe. “I will let you come *with* me, though.”
Abe chuckled. “You’ll *let* me, huh? Who’s the cop here?” He grasped the thin iron railing and followed John’s careful descent, the reverberations of his muffled laughter still echoing in the stillness. ***

Kristen felt herself swimming toward consciousness again, her sleepy battle to return to oblivion overpowered by the sound of insistent voices above her head. She felt gentle hands probe her stomach, feeling for the soft edges of her yet-to-be- contracted uterus. She could hear the muted tone of sympathy in the quiet murmurings, but, instead of making her feel better, it only made her angry. I don’t need

your goddamn sympathy! she screamed inside her head. I need my baby!…I need John…Oh, God, John, where are you? The questing hands touched a particularly sensitive spot, and Kristen let out a small moan of pain before lapsing into unconsciousness again. ***

John paused on the bottom step of the rickety spiral staircase and sniffed the air. “Is that blood?” he asked quietly. One black suited figure turned toward him from the dimness of the opposite side of the room. The gleaming whites of her eyes were a disconcertingly bright contrast to the face paint, the black outfit she wore and the darkness of the room. Suddenly a bright light flared, and the beam of the portable searchlight allowed John to make out the form of a petite young woman with short black hair. She gave him a professional nod and turned to her superior officer. “Yes, sir. We’ve found some fresh blood on the floor in front of the doors.”
John looked up and caught his breath. He strode quickly across the room and halted next to the doors, carefully avoiding the area marked as evidence. “I recognize these doors, Abe. I saw them in the visions from the goggles.” Abe’s brow furrowed. “Are you sure, John? That was a long time ago.”
John turned toward him, his gaze intense, as he ran his hand over the intricate designs of the wood. “I’m sure, Abe,” he whispered. “I dreamed about these doors for weeks, wondering what was on the other side, and how I could use it to find Doc. These *are* the doors that lead to her cage, I’m sure of it.” He turned his gaze back toward them, squinting, as if he could see through them if only he concentrated hard enough. “Someone’s here, Abe. That blood is fresh. We have to open these doors.”
Seagull was watching him with widened eyes. “It’s a five- digit keypad lock system, Commander. We can’t open it without the code. Or the guys from the bomb squad could blow it open, but we don’t have the right equipment with us now.” John’s jaw clenched. “We’ll just have to figure out the code, then,” he stated firmly.
Abe raised his eyebrows. “It could literally be *anything*, John. The odds against guessing the right code are a million to one. It would probably be better to wait for the bomb squad.” “No!” John turned to glare at his friend. “We can’t wait that long. I can’t explain how I know

that, but I do. I can just feel it.” He peered down at the combination keypad, his expression determined. “And the code won’t be *anything*, Abe. It will be something cute and clever and oh-so-Stefano-like. Remember the code on the warehouse door? Aremid. DiMera spelled backward.”

Abe shrugged doubtfully. “Maybe. But this isn’t some warehouse where he keeps his exotic little toys. He wanted to make sure there was no way for Marlena to escape this place. He wouldn’t have chosen something that Marlena was likely to guess. And you know everything about him that she knows.” John frowned. “You’re right, Abe…” Suddenly he brightened a little. “But the same isn’t true of her.” Abe rubbed his forehead. “What?”
“I know things about Stefano that she doesn’t, Abe,” he argued excitedly. “Because I tangled with him while he was drugging her into that coma. You remember…when he was tormenting Diana and me with the possibility that Doc might still be alive.” His face darkened as he realized what a bit more diligence on his part might have uncovered all those years ago. Abe nodded slowly. “Of course I remember, John. But you told Marlena about that, didn’t you?”
John shrugged. “A little. Not a lot. After Stefano *died* in Mexico it didn’t seem that important.” He reached out and ran his hand over the numeric keypad. “Let me see your celphone, Abe. I left mine in the car.” Abe handed John his phone wordlessly. John flipped it open and stared down at the numbers on the face, each framed with three letters of the alphabet. He reached a tentative hand toward the combination lock and typed 3- 5-5-3-6. Abe raised a brow. “Ellen,” John whispered, and watched the lights on the lock, hoping the red would change to green. It didn’t. He compressed his lips together thoughtfully, then typed 6-7-4-6-6. Abe tilted his head and eyed the face of his phone. “Orion?” he guessed. John nodded. The light still didn’t change.
He tried more number combinations, gleaned from the names Diana, Hawke, Steve, Kayla…but nothing worked. The red light gleamed dully in the dimness, signalling their failure and mocking their desperation to get through the door. Abe clapped a hand on John’s shoulder comfortingly. “Let’s just wait for the bomb squad, buddy.” “No, Abe,” he replied, voice tight with impatience. “We can’t wait, I told you. And

blowing open the door might disturb evidence that we *need*.”

Abe frowned. “Why are you so sure there’s evidence here, John? The rest of the house is totally clean – someone obviously cleared everything out after Marlena escaped.” John clenched his fists in frustration. “I can’t explain it, Abe. But you *know* Stefano. He wouldn’t have told anyone else the combination to this room. And if he was injured when Marlena escaped, then maybe his minions couldn’t get in here.” Abe’s eyes held measured disbelief. “I *know* it’s a long shot, Abe…but I just have this overwhelming feeling!” He stared down at the keypad accusingly. “If I could just figure out the code…” Suddenly he looked up at Abe, eyes gleaming with triumph. “Of course! Why didn’t I think of that?”
“What?” Abe asked. John ignored him and punched in the numbers 2-3-6-5-9. He held his breath, and watched with a touch of disbelief as the red light winked out and the green light flickered on. Abe looked up at John, stunned admiration on his face. “What was it?” he asked, as the groan of unused mechanisms signalled the slow opening of the door. The officers – who had been standing behind them, watching with a mixture of disbelief and grudging respect – reached for their arms and pulled them roughly out of the way, then positioned themselves for attack around the slowly widening opening between the doors. John peered around the shoulders of a particularly husky pair of lieutenants, whose willingness to sacrifice themselves to save John and Abe from the unknown was almost comical in its intensity.
“It was Benjy,” John whispered to Abe in a voice full of malicious satisfaction. Abe nodded in comprehension and John allowed himself a small triumphant smile. Benjy, he thought silently. The one child we rescued from you…the one DiMera your evil will never taint. A part of him had understood the ominousness of Stefano’s unwillingness to discuss his youngest child upon his return to Salem. John hadn’t even brought up his name to Kristen, unsure whether or not she knew of the existence of her youngest brother. Not that he’d been afraid Kristen would hurt him…but she would have wanted to meet him, and John couldn’t allow that. It was a debt he owed to Steve and Kayla…and Orion, too. And in a way, it was a debt he owed to Benjy himself, for all those years of silence the boy had endured, his deafness the result of an explosion John had caused. His memories of that time were still

unclear – but he remembered the cheerful blond-haired imp who’d blown in and out of his life in a matter of months back in 1988. He remembered how delighted Sami and Eric had been with their new friend, and the months they spent communicating in sign language even after the boy had gone. They had missed him dearly when he’d disappeared into hiding with his grandfather…and Steve and Kayla had missed him as well, though they knew he was better off far away from any DiMera. Stefano had seemed to accept their parting, knowing how much the little boy despised him for the death of his mother. But the one thing Stefano never does is give up on his family, John realized. I never should have been so complacent about that. The depth of Stefano’s remaining malice shone clearly in the winking light on the control panel. Obviously he had yet to accept the loss of his youngest son – or the role John had played in his disappearance.

John set his jaw. Well, you outsmarted yourself this time, old man.
The doors had opened enough for the police team to slip inside. He
tried to peer into the darkness within, but the intervening lieutenants
blocked his view. Suddenly Seagull appeared in the space between
the doors, her expression a mixture of awe and anger. She waved
them forward, and John shoved the two officers aside in his
eagerness to get into that room. As he reached the doors another
searchlight flared to life, illuminating the space beyond. He caught his
breath. “Oh my God…”
***
The third time Kristen regained consciousness, no amount of internal pleading allowed her to sink back into oblivion. Finally, she opened her eyes, wincing at the glare of the fluorescent lights overhead. Cold memory came racing back unbidden, and, weeping softly, she recalled her panicked, shaky crawl up the iron staircase and out the front door of the farmhouse. She had bunched her dress between her legs in a futile effort to stop the bleeding. Hang on, little baby. Hang on. She’d managed to reach her car, and, sure enough, she’d forgotten her celphone. The cramping had begun again in earnest, blood seeping through her dress to stain the seat cushion and the floorboards. Dots swam in front of her eyes, darting in and out of the encroaching dimness that hampered her peripheral vision. But somehow, she’d managed to start the car and make her way to the Brookville clinic.

The last thing she remembered was her drunken wild turn into the parking lot. How did I get inside? she wondered dully for a moment, but a lack of interest caused her to abandon that train of thought. The aching emptiness of her belly told her that all her efforts had been in vain, anyway. She’d lost her baby. And any chance at all of ever getting John back.

A warm hand enveloped her own icy cold one. “Ma’am? Are you awake?” Kristen kept her gaze riveted on the ceiling, but she blinked once in tired affirmation. A cheerful, kind-eyed face rimmed with clouds of curly brown hair leaned into her field of vision. The sympathy in the nurse’s expression caused Kristen to close her eyes in pain. “I’m so sorry for your loss, ma’am,” she whispered, noting correctly from the expression on her patient’s face that she knew she had miscarried her baby. “Can you tell me your name? Is there someone you’d like me to call?”
I want John. The thought came unbidden with unbearable soul-deep longing. I want him here to comfort me. I want him to tell me that he loves me, that he loved our child…that we’ll have another chance to make a baby together. Anguished tears leaked out from under her closed eyelids. But he’d never say that…he’d tell me how sorry he was, and then he’d go home to Marlena and be secretly glad that there were no further complications to his happy life with her. She licked her dry lips, and the nurse quickly held a cup of water to her mouth. She took a few swallows and closed her eyes again. “No,” she whispered hoarsely. “There’s no one.” No one at all. ***

John and Abe stood frozen in the doorway, their gazes riveted on the monstrosity in front of them. No matter how many times John had seen Marlena’s prison through the virtual-reality goggles, nothing could have prepared him for the first sight of it up close and in person. He proceeded hesitantly into the room and reached out a tentative hand to touch one gleaming golden bar. The rough skin of cold metal brought him out of his stunned reverie. “Damn,” he whispered softly, his mind all too willing to imagine what it had been like for Marlena, trapped on the other side of those bars.
“Yeah…” Abe breathed in wholehearted agreement. He wrenched his eyes from the cage to take in the surrounding room. This portion of

Stefano’s lair lacked the sterile anonymity of the farmhouse upstairs. Glowing antique eyesores filled every nook and cranny. Drawers lay half-open in the sideboard desk, folders and files peeking out in disarray. A shining steel filing cabinet rested incongruously in the corner, its drawers shut tight, no keys in sight. The furniture looked disarranged, as if a struggle had only recently taken place. Abe turned back to look at John, who met his gaze with a grimace of satisfaction. “I think you were right, John,” Abe murmured. “It looks like nobody got a chance to clean this place out.”

John turned toward the cage, his eyes drawn to the large four-poster bed placed prominently in the middle, the covers wrinkled and mussed as if its owner had just awakened. He couldn’t help wondering if his worst nightmare had taken place in that bed before Marlena had managed to escape. He shut his eyes, flinching at the thought. Don’t think about that, John! He opened his eyes and reached for the cage door. It swung open on creaking hinges, and he slowly stepped inside. He turned back to look at Abe through the golden bars. “God, Abe,” he whispered hoarsely, his voice full of anguish for what Marlena had endured. Abe just nodded and waved his hand toward the silent officers, who began to make a photo record of everything in the room. John turned blindly away and sat down on the bed, his face a mask of pain. Idly, he reached over to the nightstand and picked up a maroon, leatherbound book. It took him a few moments to identify it as Marlena’s diary.
“What have you got there?” Abe asked quietly, sitting down on the bed next to John. The mattress sagged with the addition of his weight. “It’s Doc’s diary,” John replied bleakly. “I used to see her write in it sometimes through the goggles. She looked so sad, Abe – so desperate, so alone. And I did nothing to help her.” He shot up from the bed as his voice rose with anger. He slapped his thigh with the book, causing a loud thwap to echo through the basement, making the police officers look up at him momentarily before going back to their tasks. He never noticed. “Absolutely *nothing*! I watched him torment her day after day and I did *nothing*!”
Abe stood up and gently extracted the diary from John’s tortured grip. “Because there was nothing you could do,” he murmured softly, shaking his head at John’s dubious expression. “That’s the hardest

thing for you to accept, isn’t it, John? That you did everything you could for her, but you couldn’t keep him away from her. It wasn’t your fault that he got her, John. Marlena wouldn’t want you to blame yourself.” Abe handed the diary to one of his lieutenants, who carefully placed it in a box of files to be transported as evidence.

“I do blame myself, Abe,” John whispered, his gaze faraway. “Now more than ever. Because *now* I know how she felt about me. If I had just told her how I felt, we would have been together then, and she wouldn’t have been on that plane alone.” Abe winced and shut his eyes. “Stop it, John,” he said, his tone almost pleading. “Please stop. Marlena’s all right now, and the two of you are together, and if there is any justice in the world, Stefano DiMera is dead. Don’t let him win by robbing you of the happiness you’ve managed to find. Don’t give him that kind of power.”
John exhaled slowly and finally nodded. He turned to look at his friend, eyes full of banked gratitude. “Thanks, partner.” He watched the officers packing up the room’s contents for a moment. “Where are you taking this stuff, Abe?”
Abe looked up from the particularly ugly sculpture he’d been contemplating. “To the evidence warehouse, of course. Why?” John frowned. “Come on, Abe. We know Stefano’s got a contact on the Salem P.D. If there’s anything relevant here, he’ll have it removed before we even see it.”
Abe squelched an automatic feeling of defensiveness on his department’s behalf. Unfortunately, John was right – there was no way Stefano could have managed any of his maneuverings over the past several years without an inside man on the police force. And though Abe felt confident about the officers specially picked for the farmhouse team, the Salem Police was too large an organization for him to vouch for everyone. “What do you suggest, then?” he asked, tightlipped.
John rubbed his eyes tiredly. “Pick a few of your best men, and I’ll pick some of mine from my security force, and we’ll put them on guard at an unknown location.” He held up a hand to stop Abe’s protest. “Just until we do a preliminary run-through Abe. A couple of days, maximum.” He turned beseeching eyes on his friend. “If there’s something here that will tell us what happened to Doc…if there’s something that will tell us if she’s still in danger from that bastard…we

*can’t* let it slip through our fingers. We *can’t*, Abe.”

Abe regarded John silently for a moment, then sighed in reluctant
acceptance. “Fine. I assume you have some place in mind, then?”
John’s brow furrowed for a moment; then his face brightened. “I know
just the place.”
***
Kristen lay quietly in her hospital gurney, staring absently up at the water-stained ceiling tiles. At any other time she would have found the shabby accommodations insulting, but she was too tired and heart-sore to care at the moment. They hadn’t moved her from the emergency room yet; the lack of beds in the clinic meant that priority went to those patients with proof of insurance. Each time someone came to query her about her name or her relatives, she merely shut her eyes and feigned noncomprehension. What does it matter? she thought resignedly. I’ve lost everything that matters, anyway.
The sound of voices outside the plastic curtain surrounding her bed – the only concession for her privacy – brought her momentarily out of her depressed reverie. She could hear two nurses talking; one was the one who had spoken to her earlier – she recognized the soft drawl of a southern accent. The other’s tone held a broad midwestern twang that carried through the air, though she tried to keep her voice low. Kristen shut her eyes and listened idly to their conversation. “Did Kenny call back yet?”
“No. He said it might be a while. He wasn’t supposed to say anything about the raid to anyone in the first place, but he wanted to make sure we were prepared in case of any casualties.”
A moment of silence. “I can’t believe that *Stefano* DiMera might have been living in our town for all those months.”
“Kenny said they didn’t know for sure if this was the right place, but a Commander from the Salem Police Force and the shrink’s boyfriend were pretty sure about it.”
“God, I can’t even imagine how frightening it must have been to be kidnapped by that raving lunatic.”
A new voice broke into their conversation, low and male and laughing. “She called me a raving lunatic?”
“Kenny!” A squeal of delight, a spate of giggles, and the sound of a kiss of greeting. “I guess that means the raid went okay.”

A long sigh. “Sweetheart, I told you not to tell anyone.”

“I didn’t tell *anyone* – I told Nancy.” A small silence. “I’m sorry, honey. I was just so worried about you, I couldn’t keep it to myself.”
Another kiss. “It’s okay, I guess. We didn’t find DiMera. But Dr. Evans’ boyfriend said that was definitely the place. You should have seen it, baby. A giant golden cage with a bed smack- dab in the middle. Really creepy, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh, that poor lady. Did you find anything to tell you where he’d gone?”
“Uh-uh, not that I could see. But there were some files and stuff left behind. We’re taking all of it to Salem. That’s why I dropped by – I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so don’t wait dinner on me. And kiss the kids goodnight if I don’t make it in time.” A sigh. “All right. Good luck.”

Another kiss. “Thanks, honey.” A rustle of paper. “Hey, do either of you know if you can get to River Street from the Sycamore exit? The place where we’re stashing the loot is on River.”
“Um, I think so. I know you can get there from Canterbury.”
“Thanks, Nancy. I’ll see you later, sweetheart.” The sound of retreating footsteps.
A relieved sigh. “Boy, am I glad *that’s* over.” Rueful chuckle. “Guess we ought to get back to work.”
“Yeah. You get anything out of that Jane Doe with the miscarriage yet?”
“Nope. I think she’s asleep. I’ll check on her in a few minutes, ask her some questions. The *insurance police* are getting a bit insistent about finding out who to charge.”
A snort of derision. “*Lovely* folks, aren’t they? The poor lady loses her child and all they care about is getting their money. Check you later.”
“Bye.” Two more sets of footsteps retreated into the distance.
So John was at the farmhouse, Kristen thought dully. If I hadn’t miscarried the baby I probably would have been there when he and Abe arrived. And there’s no way I could have wormed my way out of that one. She let out a strangled, anguished laugh. But I would have had his baby. I would have always had a tie to him – a bond that couldn’t be broken, just like the one he shares with Marlena. If only I

hadn’t lost the baby. She closed her eyes and pictured Marlena’s gilded cage in her mind…pictured John’s reaction to seeing her prison up close for the first time, his horror upon seeing the four-poster bed, the makeshift shower in the corner that revealed more than it concealed. She pictured him running his hands over the golden bars, the soft coverlet on the bed, the ornate carving of the antique nightstand. She saw him opening the drawer, reaching inside…withdrawing the diary. Her eyes flew open. The diary! She let out an anguished moan. If he reads it, he’ll hate me. Her heartbeat skipped unsteadily. The only thing I have left is that he doesn’t hate me…I couldn’t stand that. I couldn’t bear it…not on top of everything else. I can’t let him read that diary!

She sighed tiredly, the revitalizing spurt of energy fading once again into lassitude. What the hell can I do about it? The police have everything from the farmhouse. There’s no way I can get anywhere near it. She closed her eyes and prepared to sink back into oblivion, the liquid sound of the dripping IV lulling her like a nursery rhyme. Liquid… she thought drowsily.
Liquid…waterfalls…sprinklers…raindrops…rivers… Her eyes flew open. River Street. That cop said River Street! A long and winding street that snaked through half of Salem, the name of the street wouldn’t be much of a clue to anyone else. But Kristen had intimate knowledge of one particular building on River Street. The building that held John’s loft. They’re taking the evidence to John’s loft! Gritting her teeth, she ripped the needle of the IV from her arm, wincing at the sharp prick of pain. She struggled to sit up in the gurney, her ears straining for the sound of returning nurses, but she could hear nothing. She braced her arms on the edge of the bed and pushed herself off the sagging mattress. A ball of stabbing agony uncurled in her stomach, and she felt the trickle of blood begin again between her legs. She bit her lip to keep from crying out and staggered toward the curtain. I’ll make it, she swore vehemently. John won’t read that diary. I won’t let him! A moment later she was gone, leaving only a tiny crimson trail behind. Chapter 33

John stood in the doorway and stared at the cage that had been Marlena’s prison for so many weeks. Even stripped of its elaborate, incongruous and sinister furnishings, the spartan room still held an

almost palpable level of menace, as if the air were somehow poisoned. The golden bars of the cage gleamed in the harsh beam of the spotlight, resembling nothing more than a giant grotesque gilded birdcage. Except a bird doesn’t need a king- size bed… John squeezed his eyes shut. Stop it, John. Don’t think about that! It’s over, it doesn’t matter. Doc doesn’t remember it, anyway… Frowning, he opened his eyes and turned toward Abe, opening his mouth to speak before thinking better of it. Abe saw the abortive twitch of his lips. “What is it, John?”

John shook his head reluctantly and turned back toward the cage. He was silent for a few moments, then he sighed sadly. “I was just thinking about Doc’s amnesia, Abe. Mike and Laura said they think it’s a result of some trauma Doc is trying to suppress, and not just her head wound. I was wondering what that trauma might be.”
Abe waved an arm toward Marlena’s erstwhile prison. “I should think this would be sufficient trauma in and of itself.” John sighed again and rubbed his forehead tiredly. “For most people, yeah, I’d buy that, Abe. But as much as I hate to point this out, Doc’s been kidnapped by Stefano plenty of times before.” He found himself staring with almost hypnotic fixation at the bed in the center of the cage. “I wonder what was different about this time?” he murmured softly.
Abe followed John’s gaze to the bed. His face hardened in angry, helpless comprehension, and he clapped a comforting hand on John’s shoulder. “That’s all of it, buddy. Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve had enough of this damn place.” John nodded his agreement, and Abe turned to make his way toward the stairwell. John remained where he was for another moment, his eyes locked on the bed. Finally he shook his head and turned away. He left without a backward glance. ***

Kristen craned her head around the brick-covered corner of the warehouse building that housed John’s loft and warily eyed the bored uniformed policeman leaning against the wall next to the front door. Suddenly, the officer straightened as the door opened, accompanied by a squeal of inadequately oiled hinges. Two more policemen emerged, paused to confer quietly with the guard for a moment, then strode off toward their car. I think that’s all of them, Kristen thought. She’d been watching the building for what seemed like hours, waiting

impatiently for the bustle of the unloading of Stefano’s possessions to die down a little and give her an opportunity to retrieve the diary. I think only one guard is as good as it’s going to get, she concluded glumly. John and Abe would be arriving soon, she was sure. And at the moment, she couldn’t think of a good excuse for being in John’s loft if she were caught – not an excuse that John would believe, anyway. His years as a cop had given him an extraordinary ability to read people, and he knew her all too well. She *had* managed to divert his suspicions about Marlena’s true feelings before Stefano had kidnapped her…but that was child’s play compared to the magnitude of deception she was attempting to practice now. I lost his baby, she thought miserably, pressing her hand to her aching belly, where a banked fire of agony periodically shot forth burning flames of pain. If he saw me now, one look at my face would allow him to see the truth.

A movement near the door pierced her self-pitying reverie. The guard darted a quick glance at his watch, rocked back impatiently on his heels, then abruptly strode to the opposite edge of the building to glance down the alley. He turned back toward the entrance, his steps jerky and restless. Suddenly a smile broke out on Kristen’s face as she realized the… ah…*nature*…of his problem. The guard looked at his watch again, then shot a longing glance toward the corner diner two buildings away. He turned back toward the building and managed a few more minutes of quiet pacing, before he finally threw his hands up in despair and took off toward the diner at a fast trot.
Kristen wasted no time slipping through the front door. As she pressed the button for the elevator that led up to John’s loft, she chuckled painfully. Thank God for the call of nature! When I leave I’ll just pretend I belong here…the guard won’t be suspicious of people *leaving* the building, not when the police think the location of their stash is a secret. The elevator arrived on a squeak of cables, and she stepped inside, fingering the shining key in her hand – a key John had never asked her to return. Her heart constricted a little as she stared at it. He’d given it to her as a sign of love, commitment and trust…trust that allowing her access to his child, his home, and all he held dear was not a mistake…trust that she’d never use that access to hurt him. She closed her eyes, pained. Why am I doing this? she asked herself miserably. What exactly is the point? She looked down at the

gleaming key, seeing not a small piece of metal but a symbol of John’s regard for her – a regard that would be gone forever if he read what Marlena had written in that diary. She tightened her grip on the key. No, I won’t let you take that from me, too, Marlena! she thought angrily. She closed her eyes as she remembered the day John had given it to her…

“Your key, Madame,” he said, presenting it to her with a flourish. She stared incredulously at the winking bit of metal in her hand. They’d only known each other for a few months, had only been lovers a few days. He knew nothing about her, not really, and when he found out her true identity he was going to hate her, if his relationship with her father was anything like Stefano had described. Not to mention the utter betrayal of finding out that she was committed to someone else. But here he was, giving her free access to his life…because he trusted her. “You’re giving me a key to your loft?” she managed to ask.
He grinned at her. “Yup. And I want you to protect it carefully – for that is a very rare item around these parts. Let’s see, only Marlena, Bo, Hope…um, Jennifer, Jack…Kayla, Carly…and I have a key to this place, so guard it with your life.”
She raised an inquiring brow. “You gave all those people a key to your apartment?” He shook his head, smiling. “Nope. It’s just that they all lived here at one time or another, so a few of them probably still have a key. Except Doc – she never lived here. But I gave her one, of course.” She heard something in his voice that caused her to look up at him quizzically, but whatever it was vanished with the blink of an eye…dismissing it, she leaned up to give him a kiss to thank him for the incredible gift he’d given her.
Kristen’s grip on the key tightened convulsively; she could feel the sharp edges bite into the skin of her hand. “He gave her one first, *of course*,” she muttered angrily, the pleasant memory ruined by the realization of what it was that had flickered in his eyes those final moments. He was still in love with *her*…and she was pregnant with his child! In her mind she pictured Marlena the way she had looked in those moments between contractions in the Horton cabin. Tired, sweating and bedraggled, she’d resembled nothing less than a beautiful Madonna giving birth. Kristen remembered how Marlena had clung to John’s hands for faith and reassurance – “Of course, I trust

you…”. She remembered the times when she’d come back from checking for the transport boat only to see John move reluctantly from Marlena’s side, a happy yet somehow guilty smile on his face. At the time she’d believed it was guilt over being present for the birth when Roman wasn’t. But that wasn’t it, was it, John? You felt guilty because you still loved her…and she still loved you! What was it Marlena said? – oh, yes, “John and I share a very special bond…”

“Dammit!” Kristen screamed, slamming her hand into the elevator door as it slid open. “To hell with your goddamn *bond*!” she spat bitterly, her renewed anger sparking the resolve she thought had died along with her baby. It’s not enough she’s trying to take him away from me. Now she’s trying to take away everything we ever had, even back to the very beginning! She jammed the key into the lock. “I won’t let you do it, Marlena!” she swore vehemently. “I’m not giving up. You may have cost me my baby,” she muttered, grunting with the effort it took to open the sliding door, “but I haven’t lost John. Not completely…not yet.” She smiled triumphantly at the array of boxes scattered about the floor. Somewhere in here is that damn diary. I just have to find it. And then no one will have any proof of anything I’ve done…and Marlena won’t know she has an enemy at her back. A very dangerous enemy…

Reaching into the nearest box, she began to plow through a pile of files. “It isn’t over…” she vowed angrily. “Not by a longshot…” ***

“I think that’s it,” Sami said, smiling in satisfaction as she thrust the notebook toward her mother. Marlena gave her a weak smile in reply as she gingerly gripped the spiral binding. She looked down at it, a slightly nauseated expression on her face. “Thanks, Sami,” she murmured softly.
Sami’s smile faded. “I’m sorry, Mom. I know it must be hard for you to hear about all of this.” Marlena slowly shook her head. “I’m okay, sweetheart…I just have a bit of an upset stomach, I think.” She held up the notebook. “And I want you to know how much I appreciate your going over all of this for me. I realize that it must bring up a lot of unpleasant memories for you.”
Sami grimaced and looked away. “Actually…,” she murmured softly, biting her lip, “I didn’t know what was going on a lot of the time. I mean, during the whole thing down in New Orleans, I thought you

were on vacation with John.” Sami ducked her head guiltily, remembering how angry she’d been at her mother – and how often she’d said she didn’t care if Marlena ever came home. Marlena squeezed her hand comfortingly. “And I had…run away…while you were possessed. I didn’t get back until after it was over.” It was Marlena’s turn to look away. Sami squeezed her mother’s hand once before letting it go and taking a deep breath. “We didn’t hear about Stefano trying to take you in Aremid until it was all over, because everything happened so quickly. And John didn’t tell me about Stefano kidnapping you this last time until after you escaped and showed up at the wedding.”

Marlena heard the underlying hurt in her daughter’s voice. “I think,” she offered softly, “that sometimes John’s need to protect the people he loves makes him hide things from them that he shouldn’t.” Sami blinked back sudden tears as she stared down at her clenched fists. “Maybe,” she whispered in a ragged voice. “I’d rather think he did it for that reason…than believe he did it because he figured I just wouldn’t care, anyway.”
Marlena pulled her daughter into a comforting embrace. Sami stiffened momentarily before allowing herself to sink into the warm sanctuary Marlena offered. “He never could have thought that, baby. John loves you…he believes in you. Nothing in this world could change that…Nothing at all.”
Sami closed her eyes and squeezed her mother tightly. “Thanks, Mom,” she whispered gratefully. “It means so much to hear you say that…” Her voice trailed off; she took a deep breath to gather her courage, then whispered in a low, almost inaudible voice, “I want you to know that I love you, Mom. I *really* do.” Marlena cradled her daughter gently in her arms and smiled softly. “I love you, too, honey.” ***
Abe looked over at John’s hands where they rested on the steering wheel. The fingers curling around the expensive leather covering gleamed ivory with strain. His gaze rose to John’s face, which was set in lines of unbearable tension. “Hey, buddy,” he said softly. “Slow it down a little, huh? Stefano’s stuff isn’t going anywhere. We’ll get there soon enough. And then we’ll find whatever there is to find.”
John swallowed convulsively and finally nodded. The needle of the

speedometer crept downward slightly. “Okay, Abe,” he agreed quietly.

“Okay…”
***
Kristen shoved another stack of files back into the sagging cardboard box. She rubbed her perspiring forehead with her leather-clad hand – the gloves she wore made her task very awkward, but she refused to leave any fingerprints behind for the police to find. “Damn, where is that stupid thing?” She sat back on her heels and grimaced as another shaft of pain impaled her through her stomach. Oh, God, I *really* shouldn’t have left the hospital…but I didn’t have any choice. I have to find that diary! She forced herself back to her feet and turned toward the couch, eyeing the three boxes resting on the cushions. An object on the desk caught her eye, and she limped across the room toward it. It was a picture, framed in jaunty pastels, of Marlena and her infant daughter. Kristen remembered seeing that photograph countless times before and thinking nothing of it…just a photo of his child, nothing more… She snorted angrily and picked up the photograph. Marlena smiled up at her, clearly proud of her beautiful baby. “You’re so damn smug, aren’t you, you bitch?” Kristen snarled. “You think you have everything, don’t you? John, his undying love, his *child*…” Another cramp seized her belly. “It should be *mine*, all of it! *My* husband. *My* baby!” Her fingers tightened on the delicate frame. “And it *will* be mine, every bit. I swear it will be!” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she brought her other hand up to trace Belle’s smiling face. “I swear it on my baby’s grave…”

Kristen stared silently down at the picture for another moment, then suddenly flung it with all her might toward the brick fireplace. It crashed into the wall just below the mantle, the clear glass front shattering into a million shards on the floor next to the desk. The picture hung drunkenly, half-in, half-out of the twisted frame. Kristen kicked it with all her strength, unmindful of the tearing pain in her abdomen. This last abuse was too much for the handcrafted ceramic; it shattered, leaving the scrap of photo forlorn and torn on the floor. Kristen whirled back toward the couch, a wild look in her eye. “I have absolutely nothing to lose now, Marlena,” she whispered in a singsong voice. “But *you*…you have *everything* to lose…And I’m the one who’s going to take it from you…” Kristen smiled an evil, triumphant

grin, for there, right in front of her – one scuffed leather corner peeking out of a half-closed cardboard box – was Marlena’s diary. She reached a tentative hand out and plucked it from its resting place. The cover fell open, and Kristen could see the words For John written across the first page in precise black script. “Oh, no, it isn’t,” she murmured softly as she turned toward the front door, her expression one of smug satisfaction.

The sound of a key in the lock froze her in her tracks.
***
“Are you okay, honey?” Marlena asked softly, smoothing Sami’s long blond hair away from her forehead. Sami nodded, her cheek still resting against Marlena’s chest. The growl of Marlena’s stomach caused Sami to emit a watery chuckle. “Sounds like someone is hungry, Mom.”
Marlena nodded as Sami gently extricated herself from her embrace. “Well, it’s been a long time since breakfast, and all I’ve had since then is half of Belle’s lollipop.” Sami grinned at her mother as she straightened her wrinkled clothing. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t want to join the rest of us in some of that *delightful* cafeteria food. I’d think you’d be missing it by now.”
Marlena made a face. “A *million* years away from cafeteria food wouldn’t make it any more palatable. And truthfully, I think I was a little too excited about the new house to eat just then.” Sami smiled. “I know what you mean.” She glanced around the living room, a trace of sadness flashing across her features. “I think it’s a great idea to make a fresh start in a new home.” She looked back at her mother and smiled brightly to cover her momentary melancholy. “How about I make you some dinner, Mom?”
Marlena shook her head weakly and waved a dismissive hand. “You don’t have to do that, honey.” Sami stood up and put a hand on Marlena’s shoulder to keep her from rising from the couch. “No, I want to, Mom. And you really have nothing to worry about – I’m a great cook, I swear.” Marlena gave her a grateful nod and sank back down on the couch, eyes closed. “God knows whom you inherited *that* from,” she said, a slight smile causing her lips to twitch.
Sami gazed down at her mother tenderly. “God knows…” she repeated softly, smoothing Marlena’s hair the way her mother had done for her

only moments before. She leaned down to plant a gentle kiss on

Marlena’s forehead, then disappeared into the kitchen to make her
mother’s supper.
***
John yanked the door of the loft open with a mighty pull; it opened protestingly, accompanied by a rending screech. “The rollers need oiling,” he muttered to Abe, who nodded his agreement. John turned his gaze to the piles of boxes in the living room and the tall gray filing cabinet and heaved a tired sigh. “Look at all this, Abe. It’ll take days to wade our way through it.”
Abe lifted a file from the box resting on the chair and thumbed through it halfheartedly. “You’re probably right,” he said in an enervated tone. He looked around the room. “Been a long time since I’ve been here, partner.” John nodded. “Me, too. It feels like coming home.” He ran a hand over the dusty kitchen counter. “You know something, Abe?” he mused thoughtfully, idly fingering one of his favorite coffee mugs – it had been a birthday present from Brady, an aqua- colored monstrosity covered with a tacky Star Trek design that Kristen had declared to ugly to hold liquid. “No matter how long I spent at Kristen’s, that place never felt like home to me…and the living at the house, well, it feels like I’m home *and* it feels like I’m intruding…all at the same time. Does that make any sense?”
Abe offered him a wry grin. “Considering your history, I’d say it makes perfect sense, John.” John quirked an ironic brow. “I guess so…” He ran his thumb around the rim of the mug. “And the penthouse…” he sighed painfully, “The penthouse is the place where Doc went through the worst experience of her life…the place where all I could do was stand by and watch her terrible suffering.”
“You did a lot more than watch, John,” Abe replied sharply. “Marlena never would have survived any of that without you.” He shoved the file in his hand back into the box. “You know what I think, partner? I think it’s great that you and Marlena are buying the new house…a place that belongs to the two of you and no one else.”
John looked up and flashed Abe a smile of gratitude. “I think you’re right, Abe.” He walked toward the couch and lifted a cardboard flap of one of the boxes. “Look at this mess,” he said, pulling out a stack of folders and placing them on the desk. A sparkle of glass on the floor

caught his eye. “What the-” John bent down and gently picked up the picture of Marlena and Belle, carefully repositioning the torn corner. He looked up at Abe, anger building in his eyes. “How could they be so careless, Abe?”

Abe shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry, John. I’m sure it was an accident.” John set his jaw and managed, with difficulty, to swallow his anger. “I’m sure it was, Abe,” he conceded finally, gently placing the photo in his pocket and smoothing the shirt material carefully so as not to damage the picture. He eyed the boxes on the couch with disfavor and sighed. “Look, Abe, I know that coming straight here was my idea, but would you mind if we put this off for a while?” He offered Abe a wan, crooked smile. “I just really feel the need to see Doc right now, you know?”
Abe nodded his agreement. “I know what you mean. Seeing that room…seeing the evidence of Stefano’s evil…well, it made me want to run home and hug my wife, and thank God that Stefano is no longer in her life.”
John grimaced. “We hope.” He gazed around the room once more. “The security cameras should be installed first thing tomorrow morning. I don’t think we have much to worry about until then. One guard should be enough. After all,” he said, shooting Abe a half-hearted smile, “no one else knows this stuff is here.” Abe nodded and wrenched open the sliding door. “I think you’re right. Let’s go home to our beautiful women, John. Everything else can wait.” John grinned as he turned to slide the door shut behind them. “You got that right, partner.” The lock clicked home. A momentary silence permeated the room.
Kristen peered around the corner that hid the door to the downstairs bedroom and breathed a deep sigh of relief. She was positive they would have found her hiding in the bedroom if they had stayed much longer. The coppery smell of blood swirled miasmically in the air, though so far she had managed to keep any of it from dripping on the floor by bunching her skirt between her legs. She clutched the diary with one blood-slick glove and tried to block out the memory of John’s voice saying that he’d never felt at home with her. “No…” she moaned softly, briefly shutting her eyes. Her fingers tightened on the book. “I’ve got it, now,” she murmured as she carefully picked her way down the

stairs to the door. She turned to look back at the room, her eyes

darkening as she noticed that John had taken the picture of Marlena
with him. “It doesn’t matter,” she told herself in an determinedly
optimistic tone. “I’ve got time. John will never find out the truth. And he
*will* come back to me.” She caressed her empty, cramping belly. “I’ll
get your daddy back,” she whispered, then turned and walked out the
door.
***
John squinted into the dimness that shadowed the living room as he let himself in the front door. “Doc?” he whispered softly. One slim hand appeared over the back of the couch to give him a halfhearted wave. “Over here, sweetheart.” He skirted the couch and looked down at the woman he loved, who lay back on the sofa in a pose of utter exhaustion, the back of her other hand resting against her forehead. His brow furrowed in concern. “Are you okay, Doc?”
Marlena nodded fractionally, wincing as if fighting a headache. Slowly she drew her legs up to allow him room to sit on the far cushion. He sank down on the sofa, pulled her legs into his lap, divested her of her sneakers, and began to massage her feet. “Ooooh, that feels good,” she murmured, a small smile crossing her lips. “I’m fine, John. Just a little worn out. It’s been a very long day.”
John nodded his wholehearted agreement. “I know *exactly* what you mean…my day wasn’t exactly uneventful either. It wasn’t Belle’s check-up, was it? She’s okay, isn’t she?” Sudden trepidation caused his voice to rise slightly. Marlena shook her head. “No, her appointment went fine, really…It’s just, well…afterward I ran into some mildly unpleasant people, that’s all.” John’s hands crept up her legs and began caressing her shapely calves through the faded denim of her jeans. “Like whom?”
Marlena squirmed toward him to give him better access. He obligingly slid his hands further upward toward her thighs, his fingers warm and strong through the intervening fabric. She sighed softly, a combination of resignation over the afternoon’s events and mounting bliss from the magic he was working with his hands. “The new Chief of Staff of University Hospital, for one – a *very* unpleasant individual by the name of James Reilly.”
“Mmph,” John replied in comprehension. “Reilly, yeah, I remember

hearing something about that a few weeks back. At the time I really didn’t care about anything but finding you – Mickey had my proxy. I don’t know who he voted for. You’re saying this guy was a mistake?”

Marlena struggled up onto her elbows as John inched toward her on the couch, sliding his thighs underneath her legs until she was practically sitting in his lap. “I don’t know about a *mistake*,” she replied, reaching up to wrap her arms around hisneck and dissolving against his chest with a soft moan of contentment. “I have no idea how competent he is as a doctor or an administrator. All I can say is his people skills could use a little work. You know Paulette, that gorgeous brunette nurse on the fourth floor?” John’s eyes twinkled as he offered her a leering nod. She gave his chest a playful slap. “Well, Paulette was trying to help me and he practically bit her head off!”
John frowned and brought a hand up to caress her cheek. “Help you? Why did you need help, Doc? You’re okay, aren’t you?” She kissed him softly on the cheek and snuggled deeper into his embrace. “I’m fine, John. Stop *worrying* about me. Paulette was just trying to help me explain my abysmal work record for the past couple of years, which was the subject of Dr. Reilly’s introductory tirade.” She could feel the angry tensing of the muscles of his neck.
“He has no right to criticize you for something he knows *nothing* about!” John growled angrily. “None of that lost time was your fault.” Marlena kneaded his shoulder muscles gently until she felt the tension begin to melt away. “I *know* that, John. And I’ll take care of this myself.” She pointed to the notebook on the coffee table. “Sami helped me make a timeline to explain the events of the past few years. I’m going to show it to Mr. Personality, and then he can, in the words of my brilliant daughter, go take a flying leap!”
John chuckled. “Okay.” He kissed the top of her silken head. “Who else did you run into?” She curled a hand around his neck and pulled his head toward hers. “Oh, no one really,” she whispered, her soft breath on his cheek sending shivers of desire up and down his spine. “Just your aunt and her weird friend Ivan…”
He frowned and halted his lips mere centimeters away from hers. “Vivian? What did *she* want?” Marlena nipped lightly at his nose with her teeth, determined to divert his attention to other, more important matters. “I have no idea. Nothing, probably. She just introduced

herself, and I told them we were going to be neighbors.” She reached up to smooth the worried wrinkles between his brows. “Hey…it’s nothing to worry about, I really believe that…Now why don’t you show me if you missed me as much as I missed you today.”

John looked down into her sparkling eyes and banished all thoughts of his exasperating aunt from his mind. “More…” he whispered, before claiming her lips with his own. She made a small sound of inarticulate longing in the back of her throat as they sank into a deep endless kiss. Of their own volition, John’s hands began to creep underneath her oxford shirt to trace wild patterns of mounting hunger over her silken skin. Marlena’s own fingers tangled nimbly with his tie, and suddenly they began to tear hurriedly at each other’s clothing, lost in a torrid haze of desire. The clang of dishes from the kitchen barely penetrated the sensuous fog.
Marlena reluctantly tore her lips away. She glanced back toward the kitchen and smiled ruefully. “Sami’s making dinner,” she managed to say softly through her ragged breathing. “I think we’re going to have to take a raincheck.” John groaned in frustrated longing, his eyes still glued to her moist, rosy, kiss-swollen lips. “I don’t know if I can wait that long, Doc.”
She gave him a low and sexy chuckle as she ran her hand down his chest, causing the hard muscle to bunch with desire at her feather-light touch. “How about if I promise to make it worth the wait, big guy?” Her manner was playful, but her eyes were serious. “I think this is really important to Sami, John. She needs to do things like this to show us how much she cares, because she doesn’t feel she’s good at saying it.”
He sighed resignedly, nodded, and reluctantly disengaged his hands from underneath her shirt. “You’re right, I understand,” he said, his eyes sparkling with rueful humor and pent-up desire. “But I *will* take that raincheck, lady.” Marlena leaned forward to plant a quick kiss on his lips before scooting out of his lap. “I’m counting on it, mister.”
She concentrated on straightening her disarranged clothing for a moment, looking up just in time to see John reach for the notebook on the coffee table. He contemplated the timeline of Marlena’s missing life with s tired sigh and a morose expression. Marlena plucked the book from his hands, and, seeking somehow to lighten his suddenly

dark mood, smiled brightly and asked, “So how was *your* day, dear?” Her perky June Cleaver imitation didn’t elicit the response she expected; instead, John’s expression darkened even further. “Not so good, actually,” he whispered finally.

Marlena felt a ball of foreboding uncurl in her stomach as she remembered the afternoon meeting he’d had scheduled with Abe. “What do you mean?” John reached for her hand and carefully laced their fingers together, bringing their shared handclasp to rest on one strong thigh. He closed his eyes. “We found it, Doc.” She swallowed nervously. “Found what?”
He was silent for a moment longer, then seemed to reluctantly accept the necessity of telling her everything as he gave her a slight nod. “We found the cage, Doc.” Marlena felt her blood run cold. “And?” John’s fingers tightened on hers. “And…we didn’t find Stefano. We’re going to go through all the stuff that got left behind to see if we can find any indication of his present whereabouts; that is, if he isn’t really dead. But so far…zilch.”
Marlena took a deep, calming breath and tried to keep her voice light, though her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she was surprised John couldn’t hear it. “So, where was it?” John pressed his lips together in a combination of anger and guilty chagrin. “The Lafferty farmhouse. The bastard had you in the Lafferty farmhouse the whole damn time and *none* of us thought to check there! I can’t *believe* we were so stupid!”
“It’s all right, John,” she whispered softly, squeezing his hand. “*I’m* all right and it’s over. It really doesn’t matter if you find anything or not.” She nodded at his swift surprised glance. “It doesn’t. I mean, if you do, that’s wonderful…but if you don’t, it won’t affect us. We have the perfect life planned, and nothing in the world is going to mess it up. We won’t let it,” she concluded vehemently.
John’s eyes searched hers for a moment before he finally nodded his agreement. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it softly. “You’re absolutely right, Doc.” He leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. “I love you.” She gazed into his eyes, her own filling with tears of love and gratitude. “I love you, too.” They sat still for a moment, basking in the fog of contentment that swirled between them whenever they were together. John’s hand reached up to cup her

cheek, and she tilted her head to meet its warmth.

The squeak of the kitchen door broke the spell. “Dinner’s ready!” Sami called happily as she placed a large bowl of salad on the dining table. She turned toward the couch to see John and Marlena together; she smiled at him. “Good, you’re home. I hope you’re hungry, because I made enough for an army.” John grinned at her, then glanced at Marlena. “I hope *you’re* hungry, Doc. Sami’s an excellent cook, though God knows who she got *that* from…”
Marlena giggled and turned toward her daughter, who was attempting to stifle her own laughter with little success. “That’s what *I* said.” John stood up and offered her his arm. “Would you allow me to escort you to this most excellent repast, madame?” “You sound like your aunt’s friend,” Marlena remarked as she braced one hand against the couch cushion and reached for his arm with the other. “I’d be…delighted,” she murmured, shaking her head with sudden dizziness as she rose up from the couch. John stared down at her, concern filling his eyes. “You okay, Doc?”
“Fine,” she muttered, the buzzing in her ears becoming louder by the
second. “Just a little lightheaded. I’ll be okay…” Her grip tightened on
his arm momentarily before her eyes began to roll upward. John
barely managed to catch her as she fell toward the couch in a dead
faint.
Chapter 34
]Marlena muttered something under her breath and tried to roll over in her sleep, but was halted mid-roll by a sharp tug on her hair. “What?” she murmured fuzzily, opening bleary eyes to see that a lock of her hair lay trapped underneath John’s shoulder. She gave the golden strands a gentle pull and they slipped free. John sighed a little, still dead to the world, then rolled over onto his side and curled his arm around her bare waist, his face coming to rest mere inches from hers. She stared at him a moment, her gaze roaming his beloved features as if attempting to memorize every plane and angle. She reached out to trace his eyebrows with her index finger; they twitched in response to her gentle touch, and a soft smile curved his lips. She grinned at him as his eyes slowly opened.
“Hi,” she whispered softly, cupping the curve of his cheek in her palm. “Hi, yourself,” he replied, his blue eyes twinkling. “Good morning,

beautiful.” Her hand trailed down his neck into the crisp mat of hair covering his chest. Marlena could feel his pulse quicken beneath her fingers, in time with the acceleration of his breathing. “Is it?” she asked, furrowing her brow delicately. “Do you really think so?” Her tone was laced with laughing mock-worry. “I haven’t really decided yet…it’s *so* important to start your day off well, after all.” She widened her eyes in simulated innocence and utter sincerity. “You know…a good breakfast…a bit of *exercise*…”

John grinned as he caught on to her game, then schooled his features into an expression of proper scientific inquiry. “Ummm, yes, *exercise* is quite obviously a must,” he said, tapping her nose gently with one finger. “But the *type* of exercise, now that’s the question…” His voice trailed off and he raised his eyebrows suggestively.
Marlena licked her lips, aroused by the flames of passion leaping to life in his eyes. “Hmmm…Jogging?” she offered in a deliberately doubtful tone, her eyes sparkling as she snuck her other hand underneath the covers to reach for him. He drew in a sharp breath and then let out a low chuckle. “I don’t know…” he murmured as he levered himself up on one arm and reached across her with the other, his hand brushing lightlyagainst her breasts, eliciting a gasp. “…I don’t seem to recall you being all that fond of *jogging*, Doc.” He swung his leg over hers and grinned down at her from his new vantage point. She could feel the evidence of his desire, and it made her blood sing.
“You’re right,” she whispered breathlessly. “There are other forms of exercise that I find *much* more enjoyable…that is, if *you* are willing…” He leaned down on his elbows and gave her a long, slow, deliberate kiss. “I just might be…” he murmured against her lips. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tried to pull him down to her, but stopped when she saw sudden concern flash in his eyes.
He shook his head as he pulled away. “Maybe we shouldn’t, Doc.” She gave him an incredulous look. “No, I mean it – you fainted last night. Maybe we should wait until Mike gives you your check-up today and can give the OK.” She covered his mouth with two fingers. “I told you, John. I just forgot to eat and had an exhausting day, that’s *all*.” Deftly she hooked her ankles behind his legs, upsetting his balance and bringing his body down flush against hers. He moaned low in his throat. “You sent me to bed early and I got a good night’s sleep. I’m

just a little out of shape,” she theorized, her voice teasing. He gave a hoarse laugh – your shape feels just fine to me. “And so,” she concluded with mock gravity, “the solution – I repeat – is *exercise*.”

John braced one arm against the bed and curled the other behind her back, bringing her chest up to meet his. “Whatever you say, Dr. Evans,” he murmured, before claiming her lips in a searing kiss. She wrapped her arms around his neck and entwined her legs with his. He sank into her fervent embrace, his mind emptying of all coherent thought, filled only with his overwhelming need for her. ***

“So, munchkins, do you want orange juice or grape juice?” Sami asked as she tied a bib around Will’s throat.
Brady looked up from the kitchen table, where he was attempting to fill two bowls full of sugary chocolate cereal for himself and Belle. “Orange,” he said, nodding his head decisively, a movement that jarred his grip on the cereal box and sent round puffs of cereal careening across the table. Sami leapt for the bouncing balls, but they skittered out of her reach. “You’re picking those up, buddy-boy,” she said, smiling indulgently. He grinned up at her. “That’s why we need a dog.” “Oh,” she laughed, “So that’s your plan. Very clever, young Mr. Black. But I don’t think dogs eat chocolate-flavored cereal.”
“*My* dog would,” he declared confidently. “I’d train him to.” He reached for the jug of milk on the table and tipped it precariously over the cereal. Sami watched with an eagle eye, torn between offering to help him to prevent an even bigger mess and letting him do it himself because he so obviously wanted to show off for her. She held her breath, but she needn’t have worried. He accomplished his task with a minimum of sloshing and grinned proudly up at her, then asked, “Are you comin’ with us to see Star Wars tonight?”
She ruffled his mop of brown hair. “Of course I am, squirt. I’ve never seen it in a movie theater before. I wasn’t born when it first came out.” He struggled to lift the jug back up and screw on the lid. “Me, either. And Daddy said I could have a Darth Vader action figure.” He looked up at her. “Where *are* Momma and Daddy?”
As if in answer, a loud thump sounded from the bedroom situated directly over the kitchen. Sami nearly choked on a bite of toast as she realized what had created the noise. “I..uh, think they’re still asleep,

Brady.” He frowned up at the ceiling. “Daddy never sleeps late.” She placed two cups of orange juice on the table. “I think he and Mom were tired out from buying the house yesterday.” Brady eyed her dubiously. “Besides,” she added a little desperately, “You don’t really want them to come down before you’re done eating, anyway. If they came down right now they might decide you need oatmeal for breakfast instead of that chocolate-sugar-in-a-bowl.”

He and Belle both made faces of exaggerated disgust. “Oatmeal, ick.” Obediently, they turned back to their bowls and dove into their breakfast, despite its somewhat doubtful nutritional value. Sami let out a great sigh of relief and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Thanks a lot, guys,” she muttered under her breath as she spooned apple sauce into a bowl for Will. “Thank God that we’re moving…and that your bedroom in the new house is nowhere *near* the kitchen!” ***

The eerie stillness of the mansion disturbed Rachel Blake as she made her way cautiously down the curved staircase that led to the entryway. She knew the staff had the day off – Aliana had spent a few minutes yesterday regaling Rachel with her plans for the unexpected holiday and the cook had given her explicit instructions for heating frozen pre-cooked meals. A quick peek inside Kristen’s bedroom had revealed pristine sheets; her daughter’s bed had not been slept in. Where *is* she? Rachel thought worriedly. She went to find Stefano yesterday…my God, could she have found him? Is he really alive? Objectively, Rachel knew that the suggestion shouldn’t really surprise her, as Stefano had come back from the dead innumerable times before. But she hadn’t realized until that moment how much she had longed to believe that it was true, that the monster who had ruined her family and poisoned her children was truly dead. Oh, please God, don’t let her have found him. Let him be dead once and for all.
She reached the foot of the stairs and peered hesitantly into the living room, breathing a heartfelt sigh of relief upon spying her daughter asleep on the couch, still wearing her overcoat, her muddy shoes propped up on one white pillow. She crossed the room to look down at Kristen, her worried eyes noting the pallor of her skin, the dark circles around her eyes, the tangled hair…the tracks of dried tears streaking down her cheeks. She was crying… Rachel realized sorrowfully. She

reached out to caress her daughter’s cheek, and her hand bumped the book that lay open on her chest. She frowned at it, confused by the elegant script that scrolled across the pages. What *is* this? She gently extracted the book from Kristen’s fingers, which gripped it with fierce intensity even as she slept. She flipped through the pages toward the front, only stopping when the name *Stefano* written in agonized, wavy capitals leapt out at her from the page. With mounting horror she read about the night Stefano DiMera offered Marlena his `deal’ – sex for her freedom. Rachel felt bile rise in her throat as Marlena’s vivid description evoked memories she’d worked for years to suppress.

She clutched the book to her chest as she turned blindly away from her daughter, her mind racing as she tried to deduce what the book being in Kristen’s possession meant in practical terms. Does this prove that Stefano is alive? She turned back toward her daughter. But if he is alive, he would offer to help her, if only to secure Marlena for himself…and then Kristen wouldn’t be crying… She looked down at the book in her hands, reluctantly opened it to the front page and slowly began to read. The words seemed to leap from the crisp pages and sear their way into her brain. After only a few short paragraphs, she clapped the book shut, suddenly convinced that reading Marlena’s saga of pain was too personal and an utter invasion of her privacy. Rachel understood, in a way that Kristen never could, exactly what imprisonment could do to a person, how it left one vulnerable and exposed. She turned to study her daughter again, determination lighting in her eyes. Marlena doesn’t deserve that, no matter *what* you think, Kristen. I won’t let you use this ordeal against her. She picked her purse up from the sideboard and tucked the diary inside. Reaching up to make sure her veil was secure, she gave her daughter one last apologetic glance before turning toward the front door. ***

Marlena stopped abruptly as she rounded the corner of the hospital hallway, barely managing to avoid a collision with a bespectacled intern who was so rushed that he only muttered, “Sorrydidn’tseeyouinahurry,” more or less as one word without ever even looking up. John bumped into her back as she jerked to a halt, and she looked up at him with an expression of fond exasperation.

“You didn’t *have* to come with me, John,” she pointed out with some asperity. “And you don’t have to watch me *quite* that closely. Even *Frank* stands further away than that, and he’s my *bodyguard*.”

He gave her a mocking leer that elicited a reluctant laugh. “But I *like* watching you very closely, Dr. Evans.” He sobered. “Besides, no matter what you say, I won’t feel right until Mike gives you a clean bill of health.” She sighed, exasperated, and he held up his hand to forestall her protest. “I know, I know, Doc. I’m too protective.” He gave her an endearing smile. “Humor me, okay? I almost lost you not all that long ago. You have no idea how that made me feel. I’m not quite over it yet.”
She nodded tolerantly. “Okay, sweetheart, I’ll give you a break…this time. But when Mike *does* give me a clean bill of health, I expect you to back off a little.” Her tone was light, but it held a note of warning. He nodded and squeezed her hand to let her know he was taking her seriously. “I hear you, Doc,” he murmured quietly, “And I *am* trying.”
She stood up on tiptoe to kiss him softly. “I guess that’s all I can ask.” He brought his hands up to cup her cheeks and deepen the kiss, but they were interrupted by the noise of someone clearing his throat…loudly.
“*Hello*, Dr. Evans.” John felt Marlena flinch almost imperceptibly in his arms. She pinned a fake smile on her face and turned to face the newcomer. “*Doctor* Reilly. *So* good to see you again.” The other doctor’s smile was even more insincere. “I’m sure.” He raised a mocking brow at her casual sweater and jeans. “Am I to assume from your attire that you have yet to make a decision about whether or not to grace us with your professional presence?”
Marlena felt John tense with anger. She squeezed his arm to keep him from defending her. He shot her a glance filled with gratifying indignation but nodded fractionally and remained silent. Reilly didn’t even spare him a glance. Marlena’s eyes narrowed at this dismissal of the man she loved and she glanced pointedly at her watch. “Actually, Dr. Reilly, I’m late for a follow-up appointment whose subject will be that very question. If you’ll excuse us…” She didn’t wait for him to reply before brushing past him to walk toward the elevator. Appreciative humor quirked John’s lip as he shot Reilly a sardonic glance; the doctor’s face reddened as he muttered something under his breath,

then turned and stalked away. John hurried to catch up with Marlena at the bank of elevators.

“So that was Reilly, huh? Talk about charm-free…” Marlena chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, lucky me, having *him* for a boss, huh?” She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned as the light descended down the row of numbers. “That is, if I even *have* a job anymore.” John laid a hand on her shoulder. “What are you talking about, Doc? Of course you have a job – the hospital would be *crazy* to give you up. You’re the best shrink in the business, and that *isn’t* just the guy who loves you talking.”
She gave him a sad, grateful smile. “Thanks, John. But I have to admit, as rude as he was about it, the man does have a point about my work record the past few years. Psychiatry isn’t like other medical specialties…doctors aren’t interchangeable, and there’s no such thing as a one-visit cure. It takes time and effort and consistency to build a successful doctor-patient relationship.” She grimaced. “And it sounds like my patients have been cheated out of all three. They have the right to demand that, John. Anything else is unfair to them.”
He gave her shoulder another helpless squeeze. “They never
complained, Doc. Your patients love you, and they know you do your
best for them. They know it wasn’t your fault that so much time was
lost.” She nodded. “I know, John. I understand that.” She turned back
toward the elevators and finally murmured in a low voice, “But that
doesn’t make it right.”
***
“So, Mike, what’s the verdict?” John asked, managing to mask the anxiety in his voice sufficiently for Mike not to notice. Marlena did, however; she shot him a mildly exasperated glance before turning her own expectant gaze on Mike, who made one final notation on the chart before looking up at them where they sat perched on the edge of the examining table. He smiled, and Marlena heard John let out a deep breath of relief.
“The injuries are healing well,” Mike said, looking back and forth between them as if unsure to whom he was reporting. Marlena grinned at him, and he grinned back. “You’re doing great, Marlena, even a bit ahead of schedule. You are clear to return to work in a couple of days. If you’d just remember to *eat* regularly, there’d be no

problem at all.” Marlena’s grin turned a little sheepish as John leaned over to whisper, “You heard the man, Doc.”

Mike’s smile faded a bit as he looked back down at the chart. “In fact, the only lingering effect that I can see is the continuance of the amnesia.” He raised his eyes again and met her gaze squarely. “I can now say definitively that there is no *physical* reason for your memory loss, Marlena. The root cause has to be psychological, which places the problem more in your field than in mine.”
She shot a glance toward John, whose mouth was set in a grim line. She sighed. “Actually…we’ve been discussing that, Mike.” She took a deep breath. “Yesterday Abe and John found the cage where Stefano held me captive.” Mike’s eyes widened. “It looks like there wasn’t anything in it to help us figure out why I can’t remember, however. No clue as to what was so traumatic that my mind wiped it out – other than the obvious, anyway. We have no idea what made me forget the last ten years of my life. We might just have to accept that we never will.” She shrugged.
Mike eyed her closely. “You sound as though that prospect doesn’t really bother you.” John turned to frown at her. She shrugged again. “I don’t suppose it does, really. I mean, there are things that I’d *like* to remember, of course…but it isn’t absolutely vital that I do so.” She reached for John’s hand and smiled at Mike. “John and I are together and we’re happy. And we know that nothing in the world could possibly come between us. That’s all I really need to know.”
Mike nodded his acceptance. “Okay, then.” He looked down at the chart. “The blood work should be back after lunch, but I don’t anticipate anything out of the ordinary. I’ll call you when I get the results.” He looked back up at her. “Will you still be in the hospital?” Marlena darted a glance toward John, then nodded. “I think I’ll get reacquainted with my office. And if I ask really nicely, maybe the man I love will run out and get us some Chinese food for lunch.”
John grinned and gave her hand a quick kiss. “Your wish is my command, Doc.” She grinned back. “I’ll remember that.” Mike stood up and looped his stethescope around his neck. “Well, we’ll get out of here so you can get dressed.”
John laughed. “Actually, Mike, I thought I’d stay and give her a hand – those gowns tie in the back, you know, and that can make them

awfully hard to get out of. I think she needs my help.”

Marlena gave him a playful slap. “Very funny, Mr. Black. You just run along outside with the nice doctor, and I’ll met you in my office when I’ve finished.” She frowned comically, struck by a sudden realization. “Where *is* my office?” John leaned down to plant a kiss on her nose. “Same place, Doc. Same secretary, too. Hillary will be *so* glad to see you.” She made shooing motions, and the two men exited, still laughing.
When the door clicked shut behind them, John’s smile fell away as he turned to Mike and asked, “Mike, do you know if any of the Board members are in the hospital today?” Mike frowned. “One or two, I think. Why?” John grimaced. “I have some *business* I need to take care of.” He darted a chagrined glance toward the door of Marlena’s examining room. “I need to get it done before Doc comes out. I’ll see you later, Mike.” Mike nodded. “Later.” John took off down the hall. ***

When Kristen awoke the first thing she became aware of was the leaden heaviness that weighed down her abdomen. “What-” She shook her head blearily and tried to sit up. Stabbing pain forced her to fall back on the couch. She squeezed her eyes shut, the events of the previous day painting themselves on her inner eyelids in lurid tones. My baby… Waves of agonizing memory washed over her; long minutes passed before she could even open her eyes. Finally her sobs quieted, and the stillness of the house penetrated her sad reverie. Where is everyone? “Mother?” she called weakly.
As if in reply the front door opened and Rachel entered the house. “Mother?” Kristen repeated. Rachel looked up, startled. “Kristen! You’re awake.” She walked into the living room. “How are you feeling, darling?” Kristen frowned. How could she know about the baby? She coughed. “Why do you ask?”
Rachel sat down on the couch next to her daughter. “When I came in earlier I could tell that you had been crying.” She reached a tentative hand toward Kristen’s cheek, but Kristen ducked her touch and turned away. “I was just a little depressed about John,” she muttered, a part of her wondering why she didn’t just tell her mother about losing the baby and accept the comfort she would undoubtedly offer. But that would make it real…

“You didn’t find Stefano,” Rachel said – it wasn’t quite a question, but more of a plea.Kristen shook her head mutely. “I’m glad.” Kristen rounded on her. “Well, *I’m* not. I *need* him, Mother! He’s the only one that can help me get Marlena away from John.”

Rachel’s eyes flashed angrily. “You are *not* going to help him kidnap her again! I will not allow it!” Kristen laughed nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Yes, you do.” Kristen’s gaze narrowed speculatively on her mother’s face. What do you know? And how did you find out? Suddenly she remembered the diary. She looked wildly about the couch and then the floor, but it was nowhere to be seen.
“It isn’t here, Kristen.” Kristen scowled. “Where is it, Mother? I *need* it! I haven’t finished reading it yet.” Rachel regarded her calmly. “I took it. And I hid it. You have no need of a chronicle of Marlena’s pain, Kristen. It is an invasion of her privacy for you or anyone else to read it. So I’ve made sure that no one ever will.”
Kristen let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “So you didn’t give it to John…” Rachel shook her head regretfully. “No…as much as I hate deceiving him after everything he did for me – and the price he paid for it – I could not do that to you. Or to my unborn grandchild.”
Sudden tears pricked Kristen’s eyes, and she blinked rapidly to keep them from overflowing. She turned her back on her mother, who mistook the gesture for irritation. “Someday you’ll see that what you’re doing is wrong, Kristen. Until that day comes I will do whatever I can to protect you. But I cannot allow you to hurt John and Marlena. They’ve suffered enough at our hands already.” She studied her daughter’s slumped shoulders for a moment, but the younger woman didn’t turn around. Sighing, Rachel rose from the couch and left the room.
Kristen covered her face with her hands as the tears streamed down
her cheeks. Her shoulders shook as she fell back against the couch,
her heart filled with a combination of anguish, rage, and overwhelming
despair.
***
John poked his head around the door to Marlena’s office. “Somebody in here order Chinese?” The smell of fried rice and sweet and sour sauce wafted into the room. Marlena gave him a good frown.

“Yes…about two *hours* ago. If you were a pizza delivery boy you’d owe me three or four free pizzas. Where’d you go for the food – China?”

John plopped the white cartons down on her desk. “Not quite – I had some stuff to take care of before I went to get it. I had to make a few phone calls and do some business…it took a little longer than I thought it would.” He avoided her eyes and busied himself unpacking the food. “So, did you find everything all right?”
Marlena leaned back in her chair and sighed. “Yes. It still feels like someone else’s office, though.” She reached for the photograph on the desk and smiled down at Belle and Brady’s grinning faces. “Except for the pictures…” John grinned. “Yeah. We had to bribe them with candy to get them to sit still for that one. If you look closely you can see that their tongues are purple.”
Marlena laughed as she opened one of the cartons. “Mmmm, smells good. Did you get all your business taken care of?” He shoveled a spoonful of rice into his mouth and nodded. “Mmm-hmmm.” He swallowed uneasily and changed the subject. “Have you decided what you want to do about work yet?” he asked, waving his spoon around the office.
Marlena sighed and bit into an egg roll. “I don’t know, John. I was looking at some of my current case files – Laura dropped them off – and I was hoping that something would spark my memory…but nothing did. Those patients are *strangers* to me – but to them, I’m the person who knows them inside and out. I just don’t think I could be effective in helping them the way things are right now.”
John cocked his head thoughtfully. “Well, maybe you could take the new patients that come in, and leave Laura with the ones that you had before.” She nodded. “That’s a good idea, John, but I’m not sure Reilly would go for it. Until I reached a threshold number of patients, he’d probably accuse me of not carrying my weight again.” John regarded her grimly. “I don’t think you should worry so much about Reilly.”
She eyed him quizzically, wondering at the odd tone in his voice, but before she could ask him about it, they were interrupted by the ringing of her office telephone. “Excuse me a minute,” she murmured, picking up the phone. “Dr. Evans…oh, hi, Mike, did you get the results? Great…what? Sure, okay, see you in a few.” She set the receiver back

in the cradle. “Mike got the results from my bloodwork back. He’s asked us to come over to his office.” John stood up and wiped his mouth with a napkin, a worried frown on his face. “Is something wrong?”

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t *think* so. He did sound a bit strange, though.” She struggled into her suit jacket as they walked out the door. “It’s probably nothing to worry about…anemia or something. That would explain the fainting, too. He’ll probably give me a lecture about vitamins.” She smiled at the redheaded woman behind the desk in the anteroom. “I’ll see you later, Hillary.”
John nodded to the smiling secretary as they left the office and proceeded down the hallway. His hand rested against Marlena’s back in a proprietary gesture that she understood and quietly relished. She grinned up at him. “We forgot to read our fortune cookies.”
He looked down into her eyes, his own sparkling with laughter. “We don’t need fortune cookies, Doc. We *know* what the future holds.” He leaned down to give her a quick kiss as they turned into the corridor that held Mike’s office. She grabbed his arm and stood on tiptoe to whisper in his ear in a mock Chinese accent, “Man will get lucky with naked woman tonight…”
Mike’s secretary looked up just in time to see a tall handsome man trying to stifle his laughter as he entered the outer office with Dr. Evans, who beamed at her as she elbowed her companion in the ribs. “Dr. Evans to see Dr. Horton.”
The secretary smiled. “You can go on in. He’s waiting for you.” Marlena grabbed John’s hand and dragged him into the back room. He followed her, still trying to contain his laughter. Marlena beamed at Mike. “Hello, Mike.” She turned back to John. “All right, you. Calm down, or your fortune isn’t going to come true after all.” John stopped laughing mid-chuckle and affected a supremely solemn expression, though his eyes still twinkled with mirth. Marlena gave him a satisfied nod and turned back to Mike. “So, Mike, what’s the verdict?”
Mike waved an arm toward the chairs and they sat down. John frowned at him, puzzled; the doctor seemed unaccountably nervous. He felt a frisson of awakening dread travel up his spine.
Mike scribbled absently on his clipboard for a moment, then finally managed to raise his gaze. He still didn’t look directly at either one of

them, but rather at a point on the wall somewhere in between them. “We ran the sample through the usual battery of tests,” he began softly. “I didn’t expect to find anything at all, but it’s standard procedure for a follow-up when you’ve been injured the way Marlena was.” He sounded almost as if he were talking to himself and not to them. John felt his sense of dread increase. Marlena frowned at Mike. “Are you saying you *did* find something?” she asked, holding herself rigid in her chair.

Mike nodded. “We got one positive result…” His voice trailed off. It took Marlena a moment to realize he wasn’t going to continue. She stifled a spurt of irritation. “*What* positive result, Mike?” He looked back down at the clipboard. “The pregnancy test,” he said finally, his voice muffled.
Marlena’s eyes widened in astonishment, her mind whirling. Pregnancy? How is that possible? We’ve been careful…well, except for that first time on the plane… A small smile quirked the corner of her mouth, the part of her that wasn’t reeling from shock finding a delicious irony in the place of conception for their second child…on the exact same couch in the exact same airplane as their first. She turned to look at John, about to make some witty remark about his *lucky* plane and its fertility sofa, but his expression caused the words to die unuttered in her throat. The blood had drained completely from his face, and his eyes were dark with horror as he stared at Mike, who refused to look up from his clipboard. Marlena frowned in confusion and fought down a surge of sudden, inexplicable fear. What-?
When John finally spoke, his voice was harsh with pain, guilt, and
unbearable regret. “*How* pregnant?” he rasped, and the despair in
his voice brought the dawning of comprehension to Marlena. He
turned to look at her, and in his haunted eyes she saw the beginning
of her greatest nightmare.
Chapter 35
Marlena stared at John, unable to tear her fascinated gaze from the expression of utter horror on his face. How pregnant? *How* pregnant? HOW PREGNANT!?! His anguished question played over in over in her mind, the obvious implications exploding like gunshots to her head. Not his…Not his! Ohmigod, ohmigod, he thinks it isn’t his…
She turned to look at Mike, who was still staring fixedly at the

clipboard in his lap, the desperately blank expression on his face quite evidently not that of a doctor delivering happy news of an addition to a family.

“How pregnant, Mike?” she echoed, her voice rasping hoarsely. Mike closed his eyes, pained. “I knew you’d want to know that,” he whispered softly. “And I didn’t want to make you wait for the answer, so I had the technicians take another look at the bloodwork from when the ambulance brought you in after you were shot.” He finally looked up at her, his gaze filled with sadness and compassion. “I’m so sorry, Marlena…but you were already pregnant when we brought you in.”
“Why the hell didn’t you mention that before?” John demanded, jaw clenched, as he glanced toward Marlena, who sat blank-eyed and frozen next to him. Mike shook his head wearily. “We didn’t know, John. We weren’t *looking*. All we were concerned with at that point was finding out her correct blood type. It never occurred to me…” His voice trailed off and he rubbed his temples. “I’m sorry. There’s really no excuse.”
“It’s okay, Mike,” Marlena said softly, her voice lifeless. “You just wanted to save my life. Everything else was secondary at that point. We understand.” John squeezed his eyes shut briefly, then gave Mike an apologetic nod. “Of course. I’m sorry, Mike, it’s just…”
Mike nodded. “I understand. And there’s no need to apologize to me. But do keep in mind, it’s not like we would have been able to *tell* Marlena the truth at that point. It simply would have been one more thing for you to keep from her. Or we would have had to pretend that it was your baby.” He sighed. “Maybe it’s better to find out now, when you’ve had a chance to…resolve…things. When you can deal with the truth together.”
“You’re probably right,” John agreed, reaching out to take Marlena’s arm. She flinched and pulled away, refusing to look at him. Her eyes were riveted on Mike. Her gaze was piercing. “You think this baby is Stefano’s, don’t you, Mike?” He looked away guiltily and bit his lower lip. “I don’t really know, Marlena.” “Yes, you do!” she retorted sharply, looking wildly from the doctor to John. “You both do! It’s written all over your face, John. You think I’m carrying Stefano DiMera’s child!” Saying the words seemed to release some sort of dam within Marlena. The blood drained from her face as she rose numbly from her chair.

“Doc-” John said, reaching for her helplessly, but she was past hearing him. She stood silently, her back ramrod straight, her gaze locked on the far wall, her mind’s eye seeing some hellish vision that was hers alone. Trembling fingers rose to her lips and she squeezed her eyes shut, swaying slightly. “Oh *God*…” Suddenly she turned and fled toward the small bathroom attached to the back of Mike’s office. Her hand fumbled for the switch to the light, and Mike and John could hear the thump of her knees hitting the tile as she fell to the floor. The sound of retching drifted through the half-closed door.

John looked helplessly toward Mike, who returned the look with an identical one. The doctor inhaled deeply and rose from his chair, darting one quick sideways glance toward the bathroom. He laid a compassionate hand on John’s shoulder. “Take all the time you need,” he said quietly, before exiting the inner office, the door clicking shut behind him.
John pushed himself up from the chair, dimly recognizing the fact that he was still in shock. Hold it together, man. You’ve gotta help Doc. He shook his head angrily as mental pictures of the huge double bed in the middle of that damn golden cage swam into his vision. Unbidden, his mind conjured up images of Marlena lying on that bed underneath Stefano’s repulsive form, looking all the world like she was already dead, still and unmoving – except for her eyes, which were locked on John, though he wasn’t in the room. Though he wasn’t anywhere near…because he couldn’t find her. Why won’t you help me? her anguished gaze seemed to say, and he reached for her, as he had so many times those long weeks when she was gone…but he couldn’t touch her. And the vision faded, though the pain in her haunted eyes remained burned into his brain. He reached up to run a shaking hand through his hair as he walked toward the bathroom door.
“Doc?” he called, rapping his knuckles lightly on the wood. He could hear a low moan from inside. He pushed on the door and it slowly swung open, revealing Marlena on her knees in front of the toilet, her pale, bloodless face eerily reminiscent of the shiny white tile under the harsh fluorescent glare of the ceiling light. She didn’t look at him as she wrapped her arms around her stomach and rocked slowly back and forth, as if trying to ease an unimaginably intense inner pain. “Doc?” he repeated softly, falling to his knees on the floor next to her.

He reached for her, and she flinched again, but she didn’t pull away. Slowly he eased himself around her back, until she knelt facing away from him, rocking gently on her heels between his outstretched legs as he leaned his back against the wall. He held her loosely in his embrace, barely managing to resist the urge to bury his face in her fragrant hair and burst into tears. “Talk to me, sweetheart.” Her tone of voice, when she finally replied, was cold and lifeless. “What is there to say?”

What, indeed? “Tell me how you feel, honey.” He grimaced at how trite that sounded. Great, John. Just great. Marlena let out a low bitter chuckle. “Well, not all that well, I’d have to say.” But she relaxed fractionally and leaned back against him. He could feel the tension in the muscles of her shoulders. “It’s funny, you know? Obviously this is what I couldn’t bear to remember – this is the psychological reason for my amnesia…but I still can’t remember anything, even though I *know* what happened now. I can’t even *picture* it. And when I try to…”
John rested his chin on her right shoulder. “When you try to…what?” he whispered against her ear. She closed her eyes and replied softly, “All I can see is Kellam.” He winced. “Oh, Doc…”
She continued in a hollow voice. “I can see him above me, I can feel him pinning my arms back, I can see the fury in his eyes, the disbelief that I had the unmitigated gall to reject *him*…I can feel the vicious, *vicious* violence…” She bowed her head. “It took a long time for me to get past that, John. And now it has happened again…with *Stefano* of all people.” She shivered. “No wonder I can’t bear to remember.” Marlena fell silent. She felt John shift uncomfortably behind her, and she twisted around to look at him. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “John?” “I’m sorry, Doc,” he replied miserably. “I’m sorry I didn’t stop it. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I’m sorry you felt so lost and so alone…” She watched him silently for a moment. “It wasn’t *your* fault, John.” He looked away guiltily. “If I’d just been able to find you, Marlena,” he whispered. “If I’d just found some way to let you know that you weren’t alone, that I wasn’t really dead…”
She cocked her head, brow furrowed. “What does my believing you were dead have to do with Stefano raping me?” He sucked in a sharp breath and kept his eyes averted. “Nothing, Doc…nothing. I just wish I could have helped you.” She stared at him. An utterly dreadful feeling

of dawning foreboding uncurled in her stomach. “You’re lying to me,” she murmured in a stunned voice. “Why are you lying, John? You said you wouldn’t lie to me anymore.” John backed up, the force of the tone of accusation in her voice pinning him most effectively against the wall. He swallowed. “I’m not lying, Doc. I *did* want to help you…”

Marlena fell back against the porcelain bowl, drawing her knees up to hug them to her chest. Her eyes were wide with angry panic. “Stop it! Stop *lying*! What is it, John? *Tell* me…please!” The last word erupted on an anguished sob.
He reached out and pulled her roughly to his chest. She fought him for a moment before surrendering to his embrace, her now-limp legs sprawling atop his where they rested on the cold tiles. He could hear the whisper of her rapid, panicked breathing. I promised her I’d never lie to her again…But how in the name of all that’s holy can I tell her this… He squeezed his eyes shut and sent a quick prayer up to heaven. “All right, Doc,” he murmured. “All right…I’ll tell you everything. But I want you to listen to what I have to say first.”
She drew in a deep hiccuping breath and nodded against his shirt. He reached down to cradle her face with his hands, tilting her head up until she was forced to meet his gaze. Her hazel eyes were swimming with unshed tears. “I will,” she promised shakily.
He leaned forward to plant a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I love you, Dr. Marlena Evans. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in this life. I love you more than my own life.” Her solemn gaze devoured him. He rubbed his thumbs along her elegant cheekbones, and his voice dropped to a low whisper. “You are the most amazing person it has ever been my privilege to meet – the strongest, the kindest, the most compassionate, giving woman in the world.” A tear escaped to roll down her cheek, but she remained quiet, drinking in his words as if they were a lifeline. He drew one hand along her cheek and tangled it in her silky hair. “In fact, that may be your weakness, you know? Your need to be there for the people you love. Your need to sacrifice whatever you have to in order to help them.” His voice lowered until it was almost inaudible. “Stefano knows that. And he knows how to use that.”
She couldn’t wrench her gaze from his, completely oblivious to the tears streaming down her cheeks. Through an aching throat she only

managed one small word: “How?”

His jaw clenched. “You believed I was dead, Doc. And Stefano knew exactly what your next concern would be once you believed that.” Comprehension dawned. “The children,” she breathed softly. He nodded. “The children. He knows how much they need you – and you them – especially if you thought they didn’t have me to depend on anymore. He knows what lengths…” His voice trailed off and he shut his eyes, praying for strength. He took a deep breath and repeated, “He knows what lengths you would be willing to go to for their sakes. No matter the cost to yourself.”
John opened his eyes at Marlena’s strangled gasp of realization. Her hand flew to her mouth, utter horror sweeping her face. She pushed away from his chest. “No! No! I *won’t* believe that! I can’t!” She glared at him, wild-eyed. “And I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this! How could you keep *this* from me?”
He reached out and gripped her shoulders. “Doc, listen to me!” She shook her head fiercely back and forth, and he squeezed her a little tighter. “Listen, Doc! Listen! I didn’t *know* that’s what happened. I didn’t *see* it on the goggles. I couldn’t say anything unless I was sure, could I? I just knew…I just knew that he’d…offered.” She was visibly trying to calm her rapid breathing, without apparent success. “Offered what?”
His hands fell away from her shoulders as the memory of that horrible moment assailed him once again. “Offered you your freedom…for one night together,” he managed finally. She made an inarticulate moan of disgust deep in her throat and turned her head away from him. He continued speaking, desperate to prevent her from blaming herself – from hating herself for one more bad decision made during the time she couldn’t remember. “He was manipulating you, Doc. He brought you pictures of the kids, tapes of Belle’s voice. He asked you to think about what their lives would be like growing up without you. He tempted you with fresh air and sunlight and conversations and *people*.” He reached for her arm again. “Don’t you see, Doc? Can’t you understand how difficult it was for you? Can’t you see how you might have felt you had no choice?”
Her eyes were closed, long eyelashes fanning darkly against ivory pale cheeks. She bit down on bloodless lips, her fists clenched so

tightly that her fingernails sank into the soft skin of her palms, drawing blood. “I can understand the pain, John. I can understand the longing…” Her voice sank to a mere whisper. “What I can’t understand is why in the world I ever would have believed that he’d let me go if I agreed to it, no matter what he promised.” She turned to look at him. “Because he wouldn’t have, would he?”

She read his answer on his face. “That’s what I thought,” she replied, extracting her arm from his grip and rising unsteadily from the floor, her hand trembling slightly as she laid it on her stomach. “And that means I’m responsible for the creation of this baby.” She swallowed convulsively. “This *DiMera*.” She pressed her lips together. “Believing he raped me would have been easier…” she murmured distractedly under her breath. John wasn’t sure if she was talking to him or to herself.
He braced his hands against the wall and pushed himself up. “Doc-”
he said, reaching for her arm, but she evaded his grip and slipped into
the office. Determinedly he followed her; she turned her back to him.
“None of this is your fault, Doc. He *forced* you, just as if he had done
it physically. He didn’t give you any real kind of choice. That *is* rape.”
She crossed her arms defensively across her chest and didn’t reply.
He came up behind her and rested his hands lightly on her shoulders,
feeling the tension radiating from the lean muscles. They stood like
that silently for a few moments. Finally, Marlena sighed. “I want to go
home, John.”
“Doc-”
She cut him off. “Please, John? I don’t want to talk about it anymore. I
just want to go home.”
He sighed and nodded.
***
The living room was dark as John opened the front door and stepped back to let Marlena enter before him. She’d been silent the entire ride home; after a few half-hearted attempts at conversation, he’d let her alone. God knows she has enough to think about…and frankly, so do I?
“I wonder where the kids are?” he offered finally. She hung her coat up in the closet. “Probably upstairs. I told Sami they’d need a nap this afternoon in order to stay awake through the movie tonight.” John

smacked the side of his head with one palm. “Damn, the movie. I forgot about that.”

Marlena shot him a tired smile. “Well, they’ve been looking forward to it for days. Last night Brady even slept with that Han Solo action figure you bought for him.” He flopped down on the couch with an exhausted sigh. “We don’t have to do it tonight, Doc.” She shook her head. “No, we promised them they could see it tonight, and I don’t want to go back on our word.” She cast him an apologetic glance. “But I think you and Sami should take them. I really don’t think I’m up to joining you.”
He nodded his acceptance. “Sami can take them by herself. They’d probably like a night out alone with their big sister.” She shook her head again. “No, two active toddlers at a movie theater require at least two adults as chaperones…maybe four or five. I want you to go with them, John.” She sat down at the other end of the couch. “I think I need a little time alone to…process things. You understand, don’t you?”
John slid down along the couch until he was sitting next to her. He reached out and tipped her chin up with his index finger. “I do understand, Doc. But you have to understand that I’m not going to let you run away and try and deal with this alone. We’re in this together.” She blinked back sudden tears and averted her eyes. His voice softened. “I’m not saying that I have a right to disagree with any decision you might make. I’m just saying that whatever you decide, I’m going to be right there beside you – no matter what.”
Marlena took a deep breath and nodded slowly. “Okay…but I’d still like a little bit of time by myself. When I’m ready to talk about it, I’ll come straight to you, I promise.” He realized that offer was as good as he was going to get and nodded his reluctant agreement. “What do you want to do about the family?”
Marlena closed her eyes. “The family…” she repeated in a pained voice. “I hadn’t even thought about that yet.” He reached for her hand and squeezed it. “That’s okay, Doc. You don’t have to make any decisions right now.”
She shook her head, her eyes still closed. “No…at least with regard to Sami I *do* have to make a decision. She lives here – it wouldn’t take her long to notice something’s wrong. And knowing her, she’d think it was *her* fault.” She was quiet for a moment, then sighed deeply. “I

think we have to tell Sami. If we ask her not to tell anyone for a bit, she won’t.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “And I want you to tell Abe, John. You’re going to need someone to talk to about all of this…someone for whom you don’t feel the need to put up a strong front…someone to whom you would feel comfortable showing your anger.”

“I’m not angry,” he protested weakly. Marlena raised a knowing brow. “Yes, you are.” She squeezed his hand. “I know you *so* well, and I know that right now nothing would please you more than having the chance to rip Stefano DiMera limb from limb. But you can’t say that to me, because you’re too busy trying not to upset me.” He looked away guiltily, confirming her suspicions. She almost smiled. “It’s all right, John. Protectiveness is a part of your nature, and I wouldn’t change it if I could. But I want you to have someone that you can talk to about it. Tell Abe. Promise me you will.” He sighed and closed his eyes. “All right, Doc. I promise.”
“Promise what?” Sami asked brightly as she jumped down the last two steps of the staircase. “Are you guys ready for the movie? I heard Brady humming the Imperial March in his room a couple of minutes ago.” She laughed as she skirted the corner of the couch. “Do you think I should try and do my hair like Princess Leia’s?” She mimed the actress’s rams-horn hairdo with her hands and grinned down at them happily. They both tried to return the smile, but the end result was less than successful.
The smile faded from Sami’s face. “What’s wrong?” she asked, leaning against the arm of the couch. John and Marlena exchanged a look; then Marlena patted the cushion next to her. “Come sit down, Sami.”
Sami slid down the arm of the couch and landed on the cushion. “What is it?” she asked fearfully. Marlena reached for her hand. “John and I found out some news today, and we wanted to make sure you heard it from us first.” Sami’s eyes were round with alarm. “What news?”
Marlena closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. John laid a questioning hand on her shoulder and she nodded gratefully. He turned to look at Sami. “We found out that your Mom’s pregnant, Sami.” He felt a shudder run through Marlena’s body.

The beginnings of a smile turned the corners of Sami’s lips up. “Pregnant? But that’s-” She stopped and frowned at them, confused. “I don’t understand. Why are you so upset?” Marlena opened her eyes and stared down at her lap. “It isn’t John’s baby, Sami,” she finally whispered miserably. Sami’s mouth fell open in shock. “Not John’s…” she repeated. “But-…Then whose is it?” John flinched and looked away. Marlena squeezed her eyes shut again. And Sami suddenly understood. “Stefano,” she breathed, stunned. Marlena managed to nod her head.

Sami regarded them silently for a moment, her eyes glinting with mounting anger. “Bastard…” she muttered finally. “That goddamn vicious, evil *BASTARD*!” She shot up from the couch, fists clenched. “How could he do this? How *could* he?” She glared up at the ceiling and laughed painfully. “What am I saying? How could he *not*? There’s nothing on earth that man wouldn’t do, including forcing himself on a woman who hates him just to breed another deranged generation of DiMeras…”
“Sami-” John interrupted, concerned by Marlena’s increasing pallor. Sami whirled on him. “Don’t tell me to calm down, John! I don’t understand how you can just *sit* there, knowing what he *did* to her!” “There’s nothing else we can do right now, Sami,” he replied quietly. “And you’re upsetting your mother.”
Chagrined, Sami inhaled deeply and tried to calm down. She sat down next to Marlena again. “I’m sorry, Mom. It’s just…” Marlena managed a wan smile. “It’s okay, honey. I understand. But I need you to listen to me for a minute. There’s something else I have to tell you.”
Sami nodded encouragingly, outwardly calm, but John could see the telltale tremble in her hands. “What, Mom?” “Stefano might not have…forced himself…on me,” she admitted reluctantly. She bit her lower lip and lowered her eyes in shame. “Doc-” John objected. Marlena held up her hand to forestall his interruption. “She needs to know all of it, John. I want her to understand this.”
“I do understand, Mom,” Sami replied softly. “But you have to know that what he did to you was *rape*, no matter how he forced you.” Marlena shot her a swift surprised look. Sami nodded. “John told me about the *deal* Stefano offered you. Using your children against you that way was as bad as what Alan did to me. You can’t blame yourself

for this. It was *his* fault.” She reached out and tentatively touched her mother’s cheek. “You have nothing to feel guilty about,” she whispered. “Please believe me, because *I* know.”

“Oh, Sami,” Marlena cried, enveloping her daughter in a grateful hug. “Thank you for that, sweetheart.” Sami closed her eyes and held on tightly for a moment. When she opened them, she saw John wipe away a few wayward tears. He met her gaze with a look of gratitude. She nodded infinitesimally. Finally Marlena released her and sat back against the cushions. She rubbed the tears from her cheeks.
Sami took a deep breath. “Do you know what you’re going to do yet, Mom?” Marlena shook her head tiredly. “No. I think I’m still in shock, actually. I-…*We* have a lot to think about.” Sami nodded and stood up from the couch. “Well, I’ll go tell the kids that the movie’s off.” Marlena reached up and grabbed her arm to stop her. “No, honey. You and John are taking the kids to see Star Wars. They’ve been looking forward to it for so long. And you have as well, I know.” Sami shook her head. “It’s not important, Mom.”
Marlena smiled gently and rose from the couch. “Yes, it is, sweetie,” she said, dropping a kiss on Sami’s forehead. “I told John I needed a little time by myself, anyway. I’ll be okay, I promise.” She gave John’s hand one last squeeze before heading for the stairs. When she reached the first step she turned around and offered them a brave, tremulous smile. “You guys have fun.” She turned and disappeared up the stairs.
Sami watched her go, her fists clenched at her hips. “Fun…” she muttered under her breath. She turned to look at John, whose eyes were still focused on the staircase, though he looked as though his thoughts were a million miles away. “You know what, John?” she said pensively. “If Stefano were here right now, I think I could kill him myself.”
He didn’t do her the disservice of pretending she didn’t mean every word. “I know, Sami. I feel exactly the same way.” Sami crumpled back down to the couch and buried her face in her hands. “But it wouldn’t help, would it?” she asked in a muffled voice. “Because anything we did to him now wouldn’t change the situation she’s in…”
John sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “No…but maybe if she knew there was no chance of him ever popping up again someday, it

might make some decisions easier…” Sami looked up at him and raised her eyebrows. “Do you actually think she might decide to have this baby?” He shook his head tiredly. “I don’t know, Sami. I think finding out that the baby possibly wasn’t the product of *physical* force probably made this a lot harder for her.”

Sami stared down at the couch cushion. “It doesn’t matter if it wasn’t *physical* force,” she muttered. “Mom would never *choose* to sleep with him, and that makes it rape.” She froze suddenly, and an expression of utter shock and misery crossed her face. “Oh, *God*…”
John sat down on the couch next to her. “Sami?” Sami looked up at him with horror in her eyes. “I just realized something,” she whispered miserably. “What?” A tear rolled down her cheek. “I’m just as horrible as he is…as *Alan* was…” She buried her face in her hands. “Oh, *GOD*…”
He reached out and grasped her shoulders. “What the hell are you talking about, Sami?” “No choice…” she muttered, sobbing. She began to rock back and forth in utter desolation. “No choice…” she repeated. “Who had no choice?” he asked as he hauled her up against his chest and wrapped his arms around her.
Her hand twisted his shirt. “Austin,” she cried. “*Austin* had no choice! I did to him what Stefano did to Mom…what Alan did to me…” She was sobbing uncontrollably. He squeezed her tightly and rubbed her shining hair.
“No, baby, don’t *ever* say that,” he murmured as he kissed the top of her head. “You are *nothing* like them. You are a wonderful, beautiful, loving girl who went through hell and has made some mistakes, that’s all. You are *nothing* like Stefano DiMera! Do you hear me? You are *nothing* like him!”
Sami clung to him with all her strength as her tears dampened the front of his shirt. He looked up toward heaven, a combination of prayers and promises running through his mind. God help me, Stefano DiMera will pay for this! He will never hurt anyone I love, ever again. I swear it! He squeezed his eyes shut and murmured soft comforting words to Sami as he held his daughter while she cried. Chapter 36

John looked up from the file he was perusing to see Sami opening the front door of the house. She nodded a perfunctory greeting, her eyes

sweeping the room for Marlena before finally coming to rest on him. “Hey,” she said in a listless voice, walking over to the couch and flopping down next to him.

“Hey,” he replied softly. He watched her for a moment, then turned back to his file. They sat silently; the only sound in the room was the ticking of the clock. Finally, Sami shifted restlessly on the couch. “So did she talk to you about it yet?”
John sighed and dropped the folder on the coffee table. I’ve been staring at the same damn page for the past ten minutes, anyway. Wearily, he rubbed his eyes. “No. She hasn’t said a word about it. She’s talked about everything *else* under the sun, though. The weather, the new house, Belle’s Barney obsession, your college plans…” He shot Sami a wry glance. “She even asked me about what team I’d pick for the pennant race this year.”
Sami snorted softly. “She talked about baseball? Willingly? She must be feeling pretty desperate.” His smile fell away; he shut his eyes and leaned back against the cushions. “I can’t even imagine how desperate she’s feeling right now, Sami.” “Yeah.” Sami idly rubbed her hand across the nubby material covering the arm of the couch. “Do you know if she’s told Laura yet?”
He shook his head. “No. She hasn’t talked to anyone about it. Mike and you and I are still the only ones who know.” Sami bit her lip uncertainly. “Don’t you think she should be talking to *someone* about it, John? It’s been *days* since she found out… This must be so incredibly overwhelming for her – I can’t even imagine dealing with something like this all alone.” John ran his hands through his hair, frustration evident in the tense muscles of his neck. “I know. I’ve just been hoping…”
“Hoping that she’d talk to you about it?” Sami hazarded. He sighed and nodded. “Maybe she can’t,” Sami ventured tentatively. “Maybe being pregnant with Stefano’s child is something she can’t talk to you about…or me, or even Laura. But there has to be someone…”
John’s eyes snapped open and he turned to look at her. “That’s it.” He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “You’ve given me the perfect idea. I know just who she should talk to. Thanks, Sami.” He leapt up from the couch and fairly ran toward the stairs. Sami stared after him, a bemused expression on her face. “You’re welcome.”

***

Marlena rubbed her hands nervously over her upper arms and stared up at the ornate ceiling of the foyer of St. Luke’s. “What are we doing here, John?” she asked, shivering slightly at the sight of a stained-glass mosaic of Solomon and the twomothers.
John wrapped a comforting arm about her shoulders. “Are you cold, sweetheart? It feels like they have the air-conditioning on full in here.” She shrugged out from under his arm and crossed over to the bank of candles. “It’s not that,” she murmured softly, staring at the flickering flames. “I just feel uncomfortable being here, that’s all.” He came up behind her but didn’t touch her, merely leaning in to inhale the fresh scent of her shining hair. “Why?” She shook her head sadly. “I don’t know.”
He studied Marlena’s hunched shoulders silently, aware that she was lying, even if she herself did not know it. You feel ashamed, don’t you, Doc? That’s why you’ve been pulling away from me for days now. Well, you have nothing to be ashamed of, and I’m going to prove it to you…
“Father John!” a tremulous voice exclaimed in surprise. John and Marlena whirled to see an older white-haired man wearing priest’s vestments emerging from a side door. Marlena flicked a glance toward John and was surprised by the beaming smile that transformed his face.
“Father Francis!” he exclaimed, striding forward to envelop the diminutive man in a warm hug. “I had no idea you were back to work! Why didn’t you call me?” The priest chuckled. “Well, I’m not one-hundred percent yet. That young Dr. Horton refused to give me a clean bill of health, so I’ve only been spending a few hours a day at the church. I had intended to call you before services this weekend, however. I thought we might attend them together.” He turned to Marlena and held out his hand, a twinkle lighting in his watery blue eyes. “Hello, Dr. Evans. It’s very nice to see you again.”
Marlena shot John an uncertain glance before holding out her hand to meet the priest’s trembling fingers. “It’s nice to see you, too, Father…Francis, is it?” He nodded, still smiling. “I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but I’ve suffered a memory loss recently. I’m afraid I don’t remember you, Father.”

Father Francis waved an understanding hand. “Father Jansen told me of your problem. I’m very sorry for your loss, my child.” He turned his discerning gaze back to John. “He also told me of the recent changes in *your* life, John.” John reddened slightly. “Yes, well…”

Francis took pity on him and dropped the subject. “Is there something I can do for the two of you? Father Jansen is in the confessional today, if that’s why you’re here.” Marlena ducked her head guiltily. John saw the small movement out of the corner of his eye and frowned. “We aren’t here to confess, Father. I brought Marlena here because I thought talking to Tim might help her work through some problems she’s been having lately.”
Marlena’s head snapped up and she shot John a fulminating glare for his presumption. “I don’t think-” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the expression on Father Francis’ face. “Are you all right, Father?” The old man’s face had paled, but his eyes never wavered from hers. “Evil…” he breathed softly, and Marlena flinched.
“Francis!” John snapped angrily, wrapping a supportive arm around Marlena’s shoulders. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Father Francis swayed unsteadily on his feet, then blinked and seemed to come back to himself. He flushed slightly and reached an apologetic hand toward Marlena. The touch of his palm on her arm felt light and sandpapery, but warm. “I’m sorry, my child,” he said, regret darkening his eyes. “It is not you…No, the evil has gone from you forever.” He smiled and looked over to John. “*Father* John saw to that,” he added, lacing John’s former title lightly with irony. Then his expression grew serious. “It is a familiar evil, nonetheless. I sense a great darkness in your life.” He turned to Marlena. “Is it the DiMeras again?” Marlena gave a small moan of distress and leaned back against John’s chest. He gave her a quick squeeze of support before releasing her. “Yes, Father. That’s what I brought her here to talk to someone about.” He looked down into Marlena’s eyes. “I know you can’t bring yourself to talk to me, honey. I understand that. But you have to talk to someone about it, and Father Francis is the best listener I know…next to you, of course.” His voice held a note of pleading. “Please?” She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes, and finally gave him a reluctant nod. “All right, John…All right.”

He bent down and kissed her gently on the forehead. “I’m going to

meet Abe at the Pub, but Frank will be right outside. I’ll be back in a while, okay?” Marlena nodded, and managed a smile of farewell as John vanished through the front doors of the church. She turned to see Father Francis watching her, a sympathetic expression on his face. He held out a hand toward the inner sanctuary. She gazed into it for a moment, then looked back toward the outer doors. Finally, sighing heavily, she turned and followed the priest into the church. ***

John absently pushed open the front door to the Pub, head down, deep in thought. The warm smells of hamburgers and coffee wafted over him as he made his way through the early lunch crowd toward the booth he and Abe often shared in the back. A hand on his arm brought him up short, and he turned toward its owner, a smile of greeting for his best friend ready on his lips. But it wasn’t Abe. “Peter,” John acknowledged in a cool voice.
The iciness of John’s expression startled Peter, accustomed as he had become to the affable, laughing, compassionate man he’d come to know through his sister. The daggers in John’s eyes recalled the man he’d met when he’d first come to Salem – an angry, explosive avenger bent on protecting his adoptive family from the evil of the Dimeras. Peter had never realized before how much John had changed in the years since they’d met. Or maybe I’m the one who has changed, he thought. From a mindless minion of Stefano’s to someone *almost* worthy of Jennifer’s love. He hadn’t considered the effect the news about his attempted brainwashing of Laura would have on John’s opinion of him. Quite obviously it had influenced him a great deal. “I want to talk to you, John.”
John shrugged Peter’s hand away and turned to scan the room dismissively. “We have nothing to talk about, Peter. And I’m meeting someone for lunch.” Peter grabbed John’s arm again; John turned back toward him, scowling. “It’ll only take a few minutes, John. I want to talk to you about Kristen. I’m really worried about her.” John shook off Peter’s hand again, but sighed in reluctant acceptance. He ignored Peter’s gesture toward an open table and tapped his foot impatiently against the floor. “Fine. Talk.”
A slow flush of anger crept up Peter’s cheeks at the utter contempt in John’s tone, and his words, when they came, were harsher than he’d

planned. “I want to know what the hell you think you’re doing to her, John. She’s *pregnant*, for God’s sake. With *your* child. And you’re treating her like she’s some unwanted distant relative come to beg you for money!”

John’s glare was almost lethal. “You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about. Kristen is just fine. And our relationship is none of your business.” “Isn’t it? She’s my sister, and she’s pregnant with my niece or nephew, and the child’s father has abandoned her to go running back to his ex-wife – for no damn good reason at all that I can see!”
John inhaled deeply, and Peter could almost see the mental struggle for control behind the other man’s eyes. He began to consider with uncomfortable increasing certitude that whatever was angering John at the moment involved more than Peter’s dubious morality or any latent guilt John might have felt over his treaatment of Kristen. The rage in the man’s face was almost murderous, and Peter had a sudden mental flash of when he’d seen that expression before – years ago, when John had attacked Stefano in his hospital room for forcing Marlena to reveal their affair at Belle’s baptism. Peter had been afraid for his father’s safety then, convinced that Stefano had no idea what the berserker he’d inflamed was capable of doing in his frenzy to protect his ersatz family – Marlena and the Bradys.
And now Peter had that same feeling again. But it was too late to back down, and he owed it to his sister to try and help her. He opened his mouth to continue speaking, but John cut him off with an angry finger to the chest.
“You will never,” John began, in quiet, menacing tones, poking Peter’s chest to emphasize his words, “…*EVER*…speak of Marlena to me again. My relationship with her, my *feelings* for her, my *future* with her – all those things are none of your damn business! You got that, *DiMera*?” He spat the name as though it were a curse.
“Yeah, I’ve got it!” Peter retorted nastily. “*Saint* Marlena of Salem is more important than anyone or anything else in the world…including the woman you professed to love and the child you created with her. I thought you were a decent man, John. How can you hurt an innocent child this way?”
John’s jaw clenched and his cheek spasmed in rage at Peter’s mention of the baby. The tense muscles of his neck pulsed with anger

as his fists clenched and unclenched in an unconscious display of wishful strangulation. “Do not *ever* speak to me of decency or innocence, you bastard!” he said in scathing tones. “The words are laughable, coming from the likes of you. Tell me something, Peter. Where was *your* decency when you were trying to drive Laura crazy? Where was it when you helped Jude St. Clair terrorize Hope half out of her mind? Where was it when you tried to have me executed for a crime you *knew* I didn’t commit?”

“I didn’t-” John cut him off with a derisive laugh. “Yeah, you didn’t know, right. Like I believe that. You’re as evil as Stefano was, as Tony was.” His gaze was piercing. “You probably knew that Stefano had Marlena and me locked in that dungeon at Maison Blanche, didn’t you? And you probably knew where that damn cage was all along…”
“No!” Peter protested. “I didn’t know about *any* of that, I swear.” “I don’t believe you, Peter,” John retorted, carefully enunciating each word as if stating an unalterable fact of law. “No one does. No one ever will again. Now get out of my face.” “But Kristen-”
“I will take care of Kristen,” John replied implacably. “I will take care of my child. And whatever else I do…is none of your damn business. Now get out of my way.” He shoved Peter aside and strode toward the back of the Pub, where Peter could see Abe watching them speculatively from a corner booth. Peter sighed deeply, then skirted a table full of laughing patrons and headed toward the bathrooms behind the bar. John’s accusations, both the accurate and inaccurate, had made him feel dirty somehow, and he acknowledged a profound desire to wash his hands.
John was oblivious to Peter’s retreat. He slid into the booth across from Abe and buried his face in his hands, groaning softly. “Problems, partner?” Abe asked sympathetically. John rubbed his temples wearily and looked up at Abe with haunted eyes. “You have no idea, Abe,” he whispered miserably. “You have no idea…” ***

Marlena laced and unlaced her fingers nervously as she stared down at her lap. She could hear the soft sound of Father Francis’ breathing from beside her in the front pew. They’d been sitting silently for almost ten minutes, and the utter stillness was starting to get on her nerves. “I don’t know what to say to you,” she admitted finally. “Just tell me what

you feel, my child.” She closed her eyes, pained. “I don’t know *what* I feel,” she whispered in reply.

He reached over and covered her intertwined fingers with one trembling hand. She stared down at it, fascinated by the almost visible play of blood in the translucent veins under the skin. His hand felt warm and comforting, and she had to fight the automatic urge to push it away. I don’t deserve your comfort, she thought, holding herself rigid in her seat.
Father Francis cleared his throat. “Why did John feel you needed to speak to a priest, Marlena?” he asked softly. She shook her head slightly and managed a pained, rueful laugh. “I don’t know. I can’t think of any reason why he thought this would be easy to talk to a man of *God* about…” He squeezed her hands gently. “Ah, but that’s why we’re here, Marlena. To hear the things God’s children can tell no other.”
One miserable tear escaped to roll down her cheek. “I can’t say it, Father. If I say it, that would make it real…I don’t want it to be real. I can’t *bear* it to be real…” He brought his other hand over to cradle her intertwined fingers between his own. “But you know that ignoring something doesn’t make it unreal,” he admonished. “You can face whatever it is, with God’s help. You are an amazingly strong woman, Marlena. I have reason to know this.”
Surprised, she opened her eyes and looked over at him. “How?” “Did John tell you how we met?” Wordlessly, she shook her head. “I’m the priest who began the exorcism on you, Marlena.” Marlena flinched and looked away. He squeezed her hands until she met his gaze again. His eyes were kindly. “Do not be ashamed, Marlena. You should be proud of how valiantly you fought the evil which sought to consume you. It was *your* strength that allowed the Lord to heal you, through John as his instrument.”
She bit her lip uncertainly. “I find all of that so hard to believe, Father,” she admitted finally. “Possessions and demons and exorcisms…I never seriously considered them before.” She darted a quick beseeching glance toward him as she explained, “I converted to Catholicism before I married Roman, and I wanted my children to be raised in the Church – to give them a spiritual foundation upon which to base their lives. But…”

“But your faith did not extend to the supernatural,” he finished. She shook her head. “Blessed are those who have not seen, and yet believe,” he quoted softly. “Unfortunately, most of us find it difficult to believe without seeing. Even John had difficulty at first.” Marlena stared at the altar in the front of the church. “Believing…” she murmured. “I have so much trouble believing…even the things that I *know* to be true.”

“Like what?” She sighed. “Like all the things I’ve forgotten from the past few years. Like finding out that John and I attempted to pretend we were never married after Roman came back. Like finding out that I committed adultery and had an illegitimate child, completely traumatizing my daughter and destroying my family…Like finding out I was possessed by the *Devil*…” Her voice trailed off. The man sitting next to her said nothing; he merely waited for her to continue, his warm hands still cradling hers. Slowly she turned her head to look at him, raising her eyes to his with visible effort, heedless of the tears streaking down her cheeks. “Like-” she began, her voice breaking, “…Like finding out that I’m…that I’m carrying the child…the child of the greatest enemy of my family…”
Father Francis – a man who’d had years to perfect the schooling of his features into impassivity, whatever the news – managed somehow to keep the horror he felt upon hearing her words from showing on his face. Marlena watched him closely for signs of revulsion, clearly expecting rejection and condemnation. But the priest merely blinked once, then gave her a small, sad smile. “I’m so sorry, my child.”
The sympathy in his voice was finally her undoing, and the painful
aching sobs she’d been suppressing for days erupted from her chest.
She leaned back against the bench and let all of her anguished tears
stream forth. The elderly priest held her hands and prayed to God as
she cried.
***
Abe sat back in the booth, a stunned expression on his face.
“Stefano’s baby?” he repeated in a horrified whisper.
John nodded, his eyes bleak. “She figures that’s why she blocked out the past ten years. Being pregnant with his kid is apparently ‘sufficient psychological trauma’.” He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I don’t blame her at all.” Abe swallowed. “I don’t either.” He regarded his friend

sympathetically. “How are you doing with this?”

John stared down at his clenched fists. “I’m fine, Abe. Marlena’s the one I’m worried about.” “Well, I’m worried about both of you. Remember, I saw your face when we found that cage…I saw the way you reacted to that bed.” John winced and closed his eyes. Abe’s voice softened. “I know what this has to be doing to you, buddy. And I know you must be doing your best to see that Marlena doesn’t know how much it hurts.”
“I can’t let her down, Abe. I’ve let her down *so* many times, and I can’t do that this time.” He raised his eyes to meet Abe’s. “Marlena is the strongest woman I’ve ever known. I’d bet on her through just about any crisis. My *God*, she fought the Devil and won! But this…having Stefano DiMera’s *baby*…” He swallowed past the aching lump in his throat. “She can’t do this alone, partner. But she’ll try to if she thinks I can’t handle it.” His jaw clenched. “I can’t let her down,” he repeated, as if it were a mantra. “I can’t.” Abe reached across the table and touched John’s hand briefly. “You won’t, buddy. I *know* you won’t. And Marlena knows how much you love her.”
John sighed. “I hope so, Abe.” They fell silent, each of them staring blankly down at the glossy polished tabletop. Neither noticed when Peter exited the doorway of the hall that held the restrooms. He stopped short when he caught sight of them sitting in the booth. Damn, they’re still here, he thought, inching back into the hallway in an effort not to be spotted. He did not want to speak to John Black again. “So, has Marlena decided when to tell everyone the news yet?” Abe’s voice filtered back to Peter. John’s reply was muffled beyond understanding because his back was to the doorway, but Peter heard Abe’s rejoinder clearly, though John’s head blocked Peter’s view of Abe’s face. “Pregnancy’s not something you can keep secret for very long, John.” John’s answer was again inaudible, but Peter wasn’t listening anymore, anyway. He leaned back against the wall, out of the way of several grumbling patrons standing impatiently behind him, his mind reeling with stunned realization. Marlena’s pregnant! *Pregnant*! No wonder he didn’t want to talk about his and Krissy’s child. He’s having another baby with Marlena… Peter closed his eyes, wincing at the thought of Kristen’s probable reaction to the news. Bastard! And you have the nerve to criticize *me*! He set his jaw, pushed himself

away from the wall, and stalked toward the front of the restaurant, not even sparing a glance for John and Abe.

They took no notice of his leaving. “You’re the only one besides me, Sami, and Mike who knows about this, Abe. And for right now, we’re going to keep it that way. Marlena’s not ready for anyone else to know just yet.”
Abe nodded his understanding. “Do you think she’ll mind your telling me?” John shook his head. “No. It was her suggestion, actually. She said I needed someone to talk to, someone that I wasn’t concerned about protecting.” He grimaced ruefully. “I guess I’m not that good at hiding my feelings after all.”
“I won’t say a word, John, I promise. Not even to Lexie.” Abe frowned,
struck by a sudden thought. “I have no idea how she’ll react to the
news that she’s going to have a sibling.” John looked up, surprised. “I
never thought about that, partner. I guess I have a hard time
remembering that Stefano is her father.” He looked back down at his
hands. “And, anyway, I’m not sure there’s going to be anything to tell.”
Abe was quiet for a moment. “Do you think Marlena might decide not
to have the baby?” John rubbed his temples wearily. “I don’t know,
Abe. She feels *responsible* for the creation of this baby, as ludicrous
as that sounds. I don’t know if she could go through with an abortion,
feeling that way. I just hope Father Francis can get her past that guilt. I
can’t stand to see her beating herself up like this.” Abe nodded his
agreement. “I hope he can, too.”
***
Marlena’s rending sobs and streaming tears finally subsided to intermittent sniffles and muffled hiccups. She turned to look at Father Francis, as she swiped at her tears with unsteady fingers, an embarrassed look on her face. “I’m sorry, Father.” He patted her hand. “There is no need to apologize, my child. There is no shame in honest emotion.” She grimaced. “What about in self-pity?”
Father Francis offered her a small smile. “I don’t think that is what this is, Marlena. You carry a great burden…and a child you never asked for, a child you never wanted. Your reaction is perfectly justified.” She looked back up at the altar. “Is it? Even if I was a willing participant in the child’s creation?” The priest compressed his lips and frowned. “Were you?”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t know, Father. John thinks it’s possible that I accepted a *deal* that Stefano offered me. A night of…” she swallowed thickly, “…a night of sex…for my freedom. John says he thinks I might have done it to get back to my family, because I believed that he was dead and that our children needed me…” Francis exhaled softly. “That’s not exactly my definition of *willing*, Marlena.”

Marlena looked down at her lap. “Maybe…” she whispered. They were silent for a moment. “It doesn’t make a whole lot of difference, though, does it, Father?” she asked finally. “It doesn’t make a difference in the advice *you* would give me.”
“Advice?” Her lip quirked with sardonic bitterness. “The Church doesn’t countenance abortion, Father. It doesn’t even believe in *birth control*.” She turned to him with a small frown. “Or has that changed in the past ten years?” Francis shook his head. “Are you thinking of killing this child, Marlena?”
She winced at his bald statement. Her arms curled around her belly and she leaned forward, hunching her shoulders defensively. “I don’t think I can do this, Father,” she whispered, fresh tears escaping down her cheeks. “I don’t think I can have Stefano DiMera’s baby. I don’t think I could *love* Stefano DiMera’s baby.” Her voice fell until it was almost inaudible. “And I *know* I could never ask John to do so…”
Francis regarded her silently as she rocked back and forth in helpless misery. “Is that your fear?” he asked finally. “That having this child will cost you John?”
She bit her lip. “He would never leave me now, knowing this,” she replied slowly. “But I could never ask him to stay with me out of some sense of obligation. I could never ask him to be a father to the child of the man who took his *life* away…” “I don’t think you would have to ask, Marlena.”
She turned on him, her eyes snapping fiercely. “I will *NOT* do that to him, Father! I will not take advantage of his goodness, his decency, or his sense of responsibility to me and to my children!” Her voice trembled as she raised a shaking hand to point toward the church doors. “There is a woman…there is a woman out there who is having *his* child, who loves him and wants him and needs him…but he came to *me*, he decided to be with *me*…” She choked off a sob. “Because he loves you, Marlena,” Francis replied quietly. “I know

that,” she whispered miserably, closing her eyes in pain. “I know that…But I can’t help wondering…” “Wondering what?” She exhaled softly. “Wondering whether or not he would have made that same choice if we had known about the baby before…”

Father Francis released the hand he’d been holding. “I understand how confusing this situation must be, Marlena,” he began in a distant voice. She looked up at him in surprise, confused by the sudden change in his demeanor. He regarded her with solemn, disappointed eyes. “I think you are doing John a great disservice, however.”
She looked back down at her lap. “I don’t mean to,” she said softly. He regarded her silently for a moment, then reached for her hand again. “When I first came to Salem,” he said, entwining her fingers with his own, “I had great hopes for John. A young, dedicated, vital member of our order…” She looked up at him, and he offered her a small smile. “The priesthood isn’t the popular occupation it once was, I’m afraid. There is a dearth of young men willing to make such a deep commitment to God and our way of life. I saw in John a rare individual, someone who could win many souls for God, and do great good for His people.”
She bit back a wayward teary smile. “I’m sorry. It’s just that I have a really hard time imagining John as a priest, Father.” He smiled at her. “So did he, in the beginning. A *very* hard time. And he would repeatedly list all the reasons why he could never be a priest – often, to anybody who would listen.” Her smile melted into a scowl. “Because he wanted to be with Kristen.”
Father Francis nodded solemnly. “That’s what he said. But I never accepted it. His relationship with her didn’t seem…sufficient…to sever the commitment he had made to the priesthood. And I believed that his involvement with the Church while he was waiting to be released from his vows would remind him how much he wanted that life once. And would allow him to see that his future was *not* with Kristen, but with God’s church.”
She rubbed her hands on her thighs. “It must have been a great disappointment to you when he accepted the release from his vows.” He reached out to tip her chin toward him and met her eyes gravely. “No. It was not.” She regarded him silently, her eyes glittering with moisture. “Would you like to know why?” he asked “Yes,” she

whispered, her shoulders tensing in anticipation.

“I accepted his release from the priesthood because I’d come to believe that he was right about his future. That he was right about his ties to the life he’d lived after the brainwashing being to strong to break.” He squeezed her hand. “*Not* the ties to Kristen, however. And the ties to his children, his family – those he could keep and still remain a priest…but not his ties to you. Not the feelings he had for you.”
She blinked back sudden tears and looked down at the floor. “He fought so hard for you,” Francis said softly, his eyes dark with memory. “I’ve never seen anyone fight so hard, for so long. He was willing to sacrifice his *soul* for you.” She raised her hand to her mouth, choking back a sob of anguish. “The demon in you understood that bond…the Devil used that bond in an attempt to claim the soul of a man of God along with the soul of the woman he loved.” She looked up at him as the tears finally escaped her eyes to streak down her cheeks. He reached a trembling hand to wipe them away. “But the Devil underestimated both John’s love and his faith, and *your* courage. He was defeated.” His hand fell away. “And I realized that John had accomplished what God had intended, and that it was time to let him go.”
Sudden anger caused her to swipe fiercely at her eyes. “And he went to *Kristen*!” He nodded slowly. “Yes…I found it surprising, I must admit.” He patted her hand again. “But guilt is a very powerful motivator, Marlena. And you and John had enough to fill a lifetime. You felt guilty for the dissolution of your marriage, for the pain of your ex-husband and your children, and for the acts the demon used your body to commit. And John felt guilty for those reasons, and also responsible for your possession. To resume your relationship in the face of that guilt…I suppose it wasn’t possible.”
She considered that for a moment, took a deep breath and nodded. “I suppose you could be right about that.” “I believe I am,” he said simply. “And I believe I’m right when I say that John would have chosen to be with you even if he had known about the baby. And I’m right when I say that John would not stay with you out of obligation, but out of love.”
She stared down at the floor for a few moments, then finally nodded

again. “I know he loves me…” She closed her eyes. “It doesn’t change the position I’m in, though, does it?” He gave her hand one last squeeze. “I don’t know about that. But you will never be alone, Marlena. And I believe the two of you, you and John together, are strong enough to get through anything. Remember, Marlena, the Lord does not tax us beyond that which we can bear.”

She let out a shaky laugh and offered him a grateful smile. “He must think we can bear an awful lot, Father.” She wiped away the last remnants of her tears and stood up from the pew. “Thank you, Father. For everything.”
He rose from the pew. “You’re welcome, Marlena. And I want you to know that you can call on me anytime. I’ll be glad to do whatever I can to help you and John. Your happiness means a great deal to me.” He offered her one last smile before leaving her alone in front of the altar. Marlena looked up at it, absorbed in the play of light across the statue of the Madonna. She rubbed her hand idly against her stomach, wondering absently how Mary had felt upon first learning of her own “unplanned” pregnancy. She shook her head softly at the utter blasphemy of comparing their situations and offered her stone counterpart a sympathetic smile.
Two warm hands snaked around her waist, and soft lips kissed her hair. She smiled and covered the hands with her own, and they stood there silently for a moment, gazing up at the altar, both of their minds traveling back to a day over ten years ago when they had stood in that same place under very different circumstances.
John’s embrace tightened around her. “I love you, Doc,” he whispered finally. She squeezed his hands, then turned around to face him, meeting his eyes with the first sincere smile she’d managed since they’d first heard the news about the baby from Mike. “I love you, too, John,” she said, leaning in to kiss him softly. “Let’s go home.” Chapter 37
Peter slowly opened the front door of the DiMera mansion and peered inside. He could see the flickering flames in the fireplace through the open foyer doors, and he frowned, confused. A fire in the middle of summer? “Krissy? Are you here?” he called cautiously. “I have something I need to tell you…” He could just make out her shadowed form curled up on the sofa, and suddenly a feeling of doubt assailed

him about the wisdom of going through with the purpose of his visit. I *can’t* tell her about Marlena’s pregnancy…not when she’s still so upset about losing John.

Kristen did not tear her gaze from the fire as he entered the living room. “Hello, Peter.” Her voice echoed hoarsely from disuse. Her arms were wrapped around her chest, her hands barely visible underneath the folds of the huge navy terrycloth robe she wore. He thought he remembered having seen John wear it during one late-night visit to the mansion. Oh, Krissy…
He sat down gingerly on the far end of the couch. “Where’s mother?” Kristen shrugged and did not reply. Peter took a deep breath. “Are you all right, Krissy?” She remained silent for few minutes, the flames painting orange and amber patterns through the curtain of blonde hair concealing her face. Peter could hear the soft exhalation of her breathing, periodically interrupted by choked hiccuping sobs. Finally she turned to face him, and he could see the streaks of tears running down her face, interspersed with the dry tracks of salty residue that indicated she had been crying for a very long time. “No, Peter,” Kristen replied softly. “I’m not all right.” She bit her lip and lowered her gaze to her stomach. Peter’s eyes followed hers, and he inhaled sharply as she pressed her hands on the lump just visible underneath the baggy robe. He reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, tears filling his eyes as he felt the emptiness where only a few days ago a baby had lived. He looked up at his sister, who nodded slowly and added in a low, lifeless monotone, “I’m never going to be all right again.”

Peter could not bear to see the searing pain and misery shining in her
eyes, so he reached out and pulled her into his arms. She stiffened for
a moment before allowing herself to accept the comfort of his
embrace. He rocked both of them back and forth slowly on the couch,
crooning softly into her hair over and over again, “I’m sorry,
Krissy…I’m so sorry…”
***
“I’m so sorry, Marlena,” Carrie murmured, looking helplessly from John to Marlena, uncomfortably aware that her words were pitifully inadequate. She squeezed Marlena’s arm in abject apology.
Marlena offered her an understanding smile. “It’s okay, honey. *I’m* okay…” Suddenly she paled and swallowed convulsively, covering her

mouth with her hand. “Or I will be,” she muttered, turning toward the stairs. “Excuse me…” She vanished up the steps.

Carrie turned her concerned gaze to John. “John? Is she really okay?” John took Carrie’s hand and led her over to the couch. “Aside from a bit of morning sickness, I think so, punkin,” he said, sinking down onto a cushion. “She’s not holding it all inside, now, anyway, and I think that’s a big improvement. She’s letting us be there for her.” Carrie frowned. “Us?”
John nodded a bit uncomfortably. “Yeah…me…and, uh, Sami.” A hurt look crossed Carrie’s face. “*Sami* knows? How long have the two of you known about this, John?” He looked away guiltily. “A while, Carrie. But Marlena wanted to wait a bit before telling everyone. She wanted to…be more sure about how *she* felt about it before letting anyone else know.”
Carrie looked down at her lap and took a deep breath. “Does that mean…does that mean that she wouldn’t have told me if I hadn’t shown up here today and overheard you talking about it?” He ran his hands through his hair impatiently. “Well, she obviously couldn’t have kept it a secret *forever*, Carrie,” he answered a bit sharply, then sighed. “I’m sorry…but you have to understand, we don’t have any kind of *plan* here. We’re sort of playing it by ear.”
She exhaled slowly and finally nodded. “Okay…I understand.” She reached over and patted his knee forgivingly. “I’m not trying to make this any harder on you, honestly. I just don’t like feeling…left out of things, that’s all. I don’t like the idea of you guys going through this alone. I love you both so much. I want to *help* you.”
He managed a grateful smile and wrapped one arm around her, pulling her to his side. “We love you, too, punkin,” he whispered softly into her hair. They sat quietly for a few moments, comfortable within the familiar feel of each other’s arms. Carrie snuggled closer, unable to recall any problem from her childhood whose solution had not included a hug from her father. Unfortunately, it’s going to take a lot more than a hug to solve this one, she realized tiredly, sighing.
John dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. “Why *did* you come over this morning, punkin? I’d have thought you’d be at work by now, seeing as how your work ethic is a hell of a lot better than mine.” She grimaced slightly, simultaneously amused and chagrined. “I should be.

But I had something to ask the two of you, first.” She lowered her eyes and glanced away. “It’s not important now…”

“Hey,” John objected softly, turning her face toward him with an index finger under her chin, “Everything you do and feel is important to us.” He regarded her steadily. “Besides, Doc and I have decided not to let any of this change the way we live our lives…at least for now. What did you want to ask us?” Carrie considered him silently for a moment, a small smile finally appearing on her lips. “Austin and I were talking last night…”
“About?” he prompted. “About our wedding. We were making tentative plans for the ceremony…like picking a date, picking the flowers, picking a band…” She grinned. “You know, the usual stuff.” He nodded, smiling back at her. “Yeah, I know. So, is there something we can do for you?” He frowned, suddenly concerned. “Do you need some help paying for it? I know you told Doc you wanted to do this yourselves, but you have to know that we’d be thrilled to-”
She shook her head, cutting him off. “No, it’s nothing like that.” She squeezed his hand. “I know you’d love to help, but we don’t need any money, really. This wedding’s going to be a lot simpler than the last one. The only thing that matters to us is getting married and having everyone we love there with us when we do.” John nodded. “So how can Marlena and I help?” She laid her other hand on top of their clasped palms and smiled at him. “Well, Marlena can help by agreeing to be my matron of honor…and you can help by agreeing to walk me down the aisle.”
John blinked, stunned. “What?” Carrie grinned. “You heard me…I want you to walk me down the aisle and give me away to Austin.” She raised an eyebrow in an unconscious imitation of John’s favorite facial expression. “It’s not like you’re performing the ceremony this time, so why not? Do you have something better to do?”
“Wha-? No, of course not!” he sputtered. “But what about…what about *Shawn*?” She squeezed his hands. “I already talked to Grandpa. I wanted to make sure that he understood why I wanted you to do it this time. And he does. He thought it was a great idea.” John nodded slowly, not looking at her. “And what about…your father?” Carrie sighed and closed her eyes, steepling her hands underneath her chin. “What about him?” John compressed his lips. “Well,” he said finally,

“Don’t you want *him* to walk you down the aisle?”

Carrie managed a derisive snort, though a fleeting glimmer of hurt clouded her eyes. “You don’t actually think he’d *come,* do you?” He turned to look at her, eyebrows raised in surprise. “You aren’t inviting him?” She sighed again. “No, of course I’m inviting him. But I’m under no illusions about the likelihood of him actually showing up, John. Or my mother, either.” She looked up at John. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I want *you* to give me away – not as a substitute for Grandpa or Daddy, but because you’re *you*.” She reached up to touch his cheek and smiled gently. “Do you know when I first started dreaming about what my wedding would be like?” Mutely he shook his head. “It was when Marlena and I were planning her wedding to you. And after the ceremony, every time I imagined my wedding, I imagined myself in Marlena’s place, walking down the aisle toward a wonderful man just like you…with you by my side, ready to give me away.” Her eyes glittered with remembered emotion. She blinked and looked down at her lap. “Even after Daddy came back, those dreams didn’t change,” she admitted in a muffled voice. “For a long time I felt so guilty about that…but I finally realized that you can’t control your dreams.” She looked back up at him. “And now I think I understand *why* the dreams didn’t change.”

He swallowed thickly, a few sentimental unshed tears clogging his throat. “Why?” She smiled. “Because this is the way it *is* meant to be. Because you *are* meant to walk me down the aisle, just like I’ve always dreamed.” She squeezed his hand. “So will you do it?” He reached out and enveloped her in a bonecrushing hug. “Of course, I’ll do it, punkin. I’d be honored.” She smiled into his shirt and hugged him tightly.
“Honored to do what?” Marlena asked in an unsteady voice, her hand gripping the siderail as she descended the stairs. They broke apart, and John leapt up to help Marlena to the couch. Once seated, she gave him a smile of thanks, then looked from his face to Carrie’s. “Well? What is it? What’s going on?” ***

“Have you told John about losing the baby yet?” Peter asked finally, when Kristen’s wracking sobs had subsided somewhat and she’d pushed away from his embrace. Then he shook his head in

realization. “No, of course you haven’t, or he’d have mentioned it today.”

Kristen wiped her tear-streaked face with one overlong sleeve of her robe. “I can’t do it, Peter, I just can’t. It isn’t just about losing the baby…it’s about losing any chance I have of getting John back.” She fingered the lapels of John’s robe thoughtfully. “I’ve always known that the baby was the one thing that could bind him to me forever. And that preparing for her birth…” She saw his look of surprise and gave a pained nod, “Yes, they told me it was a girl…Anyway, I was counting on Lamaze classes and decorating the nursery and the experience of seeing his baby being born to bind John to me.”
“But Marlena has that bond with him already because of Belle,” Peter pointed out practically. Her eyes flashed with anger. “I know that, Peter. But Marlena let another man raise Belle for the first four months of her life. And she wanted Roman to be Belle’s father more than anything in the world. John was going to see how much better it was with me – how I wanted him and his child more than anything, that they’d never come second for *me*.” She shoved herself up from the couch, her arms unconsciously cradling her empty belly. “That’s why I can’t let him find out I lost the baby.”
Peter frowned at her. “He’s going to notice, Krissy, when a few months go by and no child appears.” She turned to him, a wan, determined smile appearing on her face. “Oh, there’ll be a child, big brother. After all, it shouldn’t be too hard to fool a man who never touches me and never even wants to see me into thinking I’m still pregnant. I could use that faux-pregnancy suit I got to show him how it feels to be pregnant – it’s the right weight and consistency. As long as I wear loose clothing and don’t hug anyone, I should be home free. And then I could just tell John that I decided you should be my Lamaze coach, and give birth to the baby while ‘out of town’ or something. I’ll just adopt a child and pass her off as ours.” Her eyes were beginning to gleam with unholy excitement. “That’s it, Peter! That’s exactly what I’ll do. John will never know that I lost our baby. And after she’s *born*, I’ll have the leverage I need to take him away from Marlena.”
Peter was staring at her as if she’d lost her mind. “Oh, come on, Krissy. That will never work. It’s too complicated, and there are way too many chances for it to blow up in your face.” “So what if it does?”

she demanded impatiently. “What could possibly happen that would make my life worse than it is now? Oh, Peter, I just *know* that a baby would bring John back to me. I just *know* it!”

Peter sighed, resigned. “No, Krissy, it wouldn’t,” he replied simply. Kristen eyed him suspiciously. “And why do you sound so damn sure of that?” He sighed again. “Well, I had just about decided not to tell you this, but now it sounds like I have to. Come sit down.” He patted the cushion next to his on the sofa. She eyed it for a moment, then sat. “What?” she asked sharply.
He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I overheard something at the Pub today. John came in and we had words about you, and about Marlena. I got onto him about the horrible way he’s treating you, and he blew up at me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so angry, except with Stefano. Anyway, I went into the back to wash my hands, and when I came out, I overheard him talking to Abe…about Marlena.”
“Tell me,” Kristen said, a slight tremble in her voice. Peter reached over to take her hand. “I’m sorry, Kristen. I’m so sorry to have to tell you this. But I don’t want you hearing it from anyone else.” He waved a hand toward her stomach. “Especially not now.” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Krissy, but Marlena is…she’s pregnant. With John’s child.”
Kristen’s eyes widened in horror and she snatched her hand from Peter’s. “No! *NO*!! I don’t believe that! You’re wrong Peter. You heard it wrong. Marlena is *not* pregnant with John’s child. She’s not having his baby. She’s NOT!” She wrapped her arms around herself and rocked back and forth, dissolving into sobs as she repeated her statement like a mantra. “She’s not…she’s not…she’s NOT!” Peter tried to gather her into his arms again, but she pushed him away, her voice rising hysterically as she tried to deny what she’d heard.
Upstairs in her bedroom, listened to her daughter’s screams and
wondered.
***
Carrie smiled at Marlena. “We were talking about wedding plans.” Marlena’s eyes widened and she looked at John questioningly. “Um, Austin’s and mine, I mean, ” Carrie added quickly. “Oh,” Marlena said quietly. Then she set her jaw and offered Carrie a determined smile. “Well, that’s wonderful honey. What can we do to help?”

Carrie flashed John a fleeting grin. “John’s already agreed to do *his* part. I asked him to walk me down the aisle.” Marlena looked from Carrie to John, pleased delight blooming on her face. “Really? Oh, that’s wonderful, honey.” She gave John a quick kiss on the cheek. “I think that’s a great idea.” John grinned. “Me, too. But wait ’til you here what she’s got in mind for you.”

Marlena turned to Carrie, eyes sparkling with anticipation. “What?” Carrie reached for her hand and smiled into her eyes. “I’d like you to be my matron of honor. Marlena blinked. “Me?” Carrie nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, *you*. You are the best friend I’ve ever had, the one woman I can always count on, no matter what. Why *not* you?”
“Well-” Marlena began, flattered but nonplussed, “What about…” Her voice trailed off, a cloud of sadness crossing her face before she looked away toward the fireplace. “What about…Sami?” Carrie finished quietly. Marlena nodded. “It’s not going to happen, Marlena,” Carrie replied in a low voice. “I know how much that hurts you, and whether you believe it or not, it hurts me too, but it doesn’t make any difference. There’s no way I would ever ask Sami to be in my wedding, not after the things she’s done. Besides, she’d never agree to do it, anyway. She may have come to accept a few long-denied realities in the past few months, but that’s a long way from being happy for Austin and me. And I won’t give her the opportunity to ruin another wedding for us.”
Marlena closed her eyes and nodded resignedly. “I understand what you’re saying, Carrie. And I’m not criticizing your decision.” She opened her eyes and looked up at Carrie. “It just makes me so sad, that’s all. I remember how close the two of you always were.” “So do I,” Carrie said simply. “But I’m not the one who ended that closeness, and I’m not the one who turned our relationship into a war. I have nothing to apologize for, and I don’t owe her anything – anything at all.” She looked down at her lap and sighed. “I suppose this means you’re going to turn me down then?”
Marlena looked up at John and wiped away a wayward tear. She reached out to grasp Carrie’s hand. “No, sweetie. I’m not going to turn you down. I’ve been dreaming of your wedding day ever since I first moment I met you when you were just four years old. I’d be honored to

be your matron of honor.”

Carrie’s head snapped up and a beatific grin transformed her face. “Really? You mean it?” She launched herself into Marlena’s arms. “Oh, thank you, Marlena. Thank you so much! Now I know everything’s going to be perfect. Absolutely perfect!” She let go of Marlena and sat back on the couch, her smile turning rueful. “Or at least I hope so…” John frowned. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
“Oh…” Carrie sighed. “Well, it’s just that *Kate* has been trying to, um…*help*…Austin and me make plans.” She shook her head, baffled and disturbed. “You know, I *am* really grateful to Kate for all she did to get Austin and me back together, but I have to say I kind of wish she’d back off now that we *are*.” She looked up at John and Marlena. “She seems a bit obsessed, you know? And it’s not just with me and Austin. She’s the same way about Bo and Billie. Frankly, it sort of gives me the creeps. And the way she is about Sami…” She shrugged. “I was angry at her too, and I wanted her to pay for all the horrible things she did. But it’s *over* now, and she *is* Will’s mother. I don’t see why Kate takes every opportunity she can to alienate her even further. I mean, what’s the point?”
John shook his head. “I know what you mean, punkin. She came by my office yesterday to talk about that very thing. I wasn’t really listening.” His lip quirked ironically. “I kind of had a few other things on my mind and basically told her so. She thought I was rude, I think. But she did seem a bit manic on the topic. Maybe after the wedding, she’ll back off a little.”
Carrie sighed. “Well, I hope so. It sure makes work a fun experience, let me tell you, what with her popping in every five minutes to check on us. It’s a wonder any Titan business ever gets done at all.” She glanced down at her watch. “Speaking of work, I’d better get to it.” She stood up from the couch and gave them both a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, you guys. You really made my day…my *week…” She grinned. “…My entire *wedding*.”
They laughed. “Our pleasure,” John said. “Let us know when you have the details, and don’t forget I have an *in* at the church if you need anything.” She opened the front door and tossed them a laughing look over her shoulder. “Sure thing, *Father* Black. See you later.” One wave, and then she was gone.

John and Marlena collapsed back on the couch. Marlena stared down at her hands contemplatively. John reached out to entwine his fingers with hers. “What are you thinking, Doc?” She smiled nostalgically. “I was just thinking that there are times when I forget entirely that Carrie wasn’t born to me.” She closed her eyes. “Times when I forget that I’m not actually her mother.”

He nodded. “I know what you mean, Doc. It took me a long time to train myself not to act like her father.” His smile turned rueful. “And frankly, I still forgot a little too often for *some* people’s peace of mind.” She looked up at him. “You mean Roman, don’t you?” John nodded. “I think,” she said meditatively, “that maybe what bothered Roman is that on some level he understood that fatherhood isn’t simply a biological phenomenon. And that his return didn’t erase the bonds between you and the children.” She closed her eyes again and leaned back against the cushions, releasing his fingers to gently caress her stomach.
John watched her silently for a few moments, before asking in a hesitant voice, “Are we really talking about Carrie and the twinners and Roman? Or are we talking about something…or *someone*…else?” Her hand stilled and her eyes remained closed. “I don’t know,” she said finally in a quiet voice. “What do you think we’re talking about?”
He placed his palm on top of hers and felt the slight curvature of her stomach underneath their stacked hands. “I think maybe you’re asking me a question.” Slowly Marlena opened her eyes and turned to look at him. She took a deep breath. “Does that mean you have an answer?” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ask that. It’s not a fair question.”
He cupped her cheek with his other hand and waited patiently for her to look up at him. “I think it is,” he whispered when her eyes opened. “You need to know how I feel in order to make some decisions about the future. I can understand that perfectly.” She drew her legs up onto the couch and curled up in a ball, turning her back to him. “I don’t want to lose you,” she admitted in a muffled voice. “And if having this baby means that I might possibly lose you, then it isn’t worth it to me.” There was an anguished catch in her voice. “That’s a horrible way to feel, isn’t it? I can remember when I found out I was pregnant with Sami

and Eric…I would have done anything for them – even as far as giving up Roman if I thought that was what needed to be done.” She laughed hollowly. “Of course, that was never an issue. But the differences between the way I felt then and the way I feel now are horrifying. And they make me feel so ashamed.”

John scooted over on the couch and encircled her waist with his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder and hugging her back to his chest. “Don’t ever be ashamed of the way you feel, Marlena,” he murmured into her ear. “Listen to me…don’t expect anything about this to be the same as being pregnant with the twinners. That was a completely different situation, and there’s no point in pretending otherwise.” He tugged on her waist until she turned over and looked at him. “And if you’re *asking* me if I will leave you over this baby, then I *do* have an answer.” He looked deep into her hazel eyes. “No way, no how, lady.” He leaned in to kiss her quickly on the lips. “I love you, and nothing on earth will ever change that. And I want to be with you more than anything in the universe.”
She blinked back the tears in her brimming eyes and leaned in to give him another soft kiss. He used his thumb to rub away one errant teardrop as it escaped to roll down her cheek. “And if you’re asking how I’ll feel about this baby, then I have an answer for that, too.” He reached down and laid a hand on her stomach. “I love you. Every single part of you. And I love your children. *All* of your children. Because they are a part of you…and because they are themselves.” He rubbed her stomach gently. “This child is guilty of no crime or sin. And I would never hold a baby responsible for what his or her fa-…no, I’m not going to call him a father, because that bastard doesn’t know the meaning of the word. He may have made a biological contribution, but that’s going to be where it ends.” He looked up into her eyes. “If you *do* decide to have this child, then I will be its father, and I will raise and love him or her as my own, just like I did with Sami and Eric and Carrie. I promise you that.”
Marlena gazed down at her stomach and hesitantly brought her hand up to cover his. She stared at their intertwined fingers for a few long moments, before finally looking up into his eyes and slowly nodding. He pulled her into his embrace. She rested her cheek against his chest and hugged him tightly.

***

“It isn’t going to happen.” “What isn’t going to happen, Krissy?” Peter asked, a tendrilof foreboding uncurling in his stomach. Her voice was cold and deadly, and its menacing tone caused him to shiver slightly. She pushed roughly away from him, her eyes glinting pure steel. “Marlena isn’t going to have John’s child. I will *not* let it happen.”
From her vantage point in the foyer, Rachel heard her daughter’s statement and stifled a gasp of shock. She leaned back against the open door, suddenly unwilling to reveal her presence to Kristen, who had just made such a horrifying declaration in a chillingly matter-of-fact voice. Marlena is pregnant with John’s child? Oh *no*… Rachel knew that her daughter walked a fine wavering line between the world of darkness inhabited by Stefano and the world of light and goodness that Rachel had always wished for her children. This news could be enough to send her over the edge into Stefano’s evil. In fact, her last statement indicated she might already have gone. I can’t let her hurt Marlena. I have to do something to stop this! Rachel leaned in against the door, trying desperately to overhear the rest of their conversation, but her children’s voices had subsided below audible levels. She risked a quick peek around the doorjamb, long enough to see the expression of dismayed consternation on Peter’s face. He shook his head angrily at his sister, and she reached out and grabbed his hand, gripping his fingers painfully tightly. Rachel could hear the low controlled anger in her voice, though the words were still unclear. Peter’s expression turned uncertain, before he finally gave a reluctant nod. Kristen smiled up at him, and Rachel felt a band of fear constrict her chest, uncomfortably aware that whatever that nod and smile meant, it probably did not bode well for Marlena.

Rachel pulled away from the doorway and collapsed against the bottom stair. She buried her face in her hands. What am I going to do now?
Chapter 38
Rachel Blake opened the bottom drawer of her dresser and ran her hand along the underside of the drawer above it. Her fingers encountered a small lump covered in masking tape and ripped the object away from the wood. She stood up from the dresser and peeled the tape away, revealing a small metal key with the number 34 etched

on the side. She gripped the key nervously, darting a quick glance toward the closed door leading out to the hallway. I can’t let Kristen find out about this.

She shivered, remembering the cold words her daughter had uttered the night before, words that had convinced Rachel that she had to betray her daughter to keep her from doing Marlena Evans real harm. Rachel hadn’t been able to overhear her children’s planning session, and she had no idea exactly what they were going to do. But there are only so many ways to prevent someone from having a baby once she’s already pregnant. And I can’t allow Kristen to harm Marlena or the child.
Newly resolute, she dropped the key into her pocket and crossed over
to the door. A few moments of listening through the wood indicated
that the coast was clear, and she slipped silently from the room,
heading quickly for the back stairs.
***
John squinted into the mirror as he ran the razor down his cheek. “Ouch,” he muttered as he nicked himself slightly. One slim hand crept around his bare chest, and a low chuckle sounded in his ear. “Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?” a seductive voice asked.
He reached for a towel and wiped away the remains of the shaving cream, then turned and pulled Marlena into his arms. “By all means,” he murmured leaning down to capture her lips with his. The kiss lasted for long moments; Marlena finally broke it off, laughing.
“I don’t think that’s where the cut was,” she said breathlessly. He smiled down at her. “Nope. But that’s where a kiss goes best.” She pulled back in his arms to give his bare chest a long intent perusal. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “I can see a lot of very tempting spots.” She hooked her thumb underneath the towel around his waist and gave it a suggestive tug.
He reached out and gripped the lapels of her silk robe and cocked an eyebrow. “Turnabout is fair play, Doc,” he said mildly. “You pull on mine, I pull on yours.” She stood up on tiptoe until her mouth was just inches from his ear. “It’s a deal,” she whispered, then yanked the towel away. Laughing, she spun out from his embrace toward the bedroom, flinging the towel across the dresser. “Oh, no, you don’t,” John growled, striding after her.

Marlena shot him a merry look over her shoulder and jumped up into the middle of the bed. John halted at the foot of it and grinned up at her. She grabbed the trailing ends of the belt of her robe and inspected him intently from head to toe. “I think,” she said, licking her lips, her eyes dark with desire, “that I’m just a tiny bit overdressed for this occasion.” Slowly she untied the belt and allowed the slick material to slide down her body. She raised her eyebrows. “Now, what are you doing all the way over there?”

He swallowed thickly. “I have no idea.” Then he climbed onto the bed. ***
“Are you sure you want to do this, Krissy?” Peter asked, a pleading note in his voice. “It’s not too late to change your mind.” Kristen scowled at him. “I don’t *want* to change my mind, Peter. I told you last night that there was no way Marlena would ever have another baby with John, and I meant it.” She turned her back to him and stared out the French doors into the rain- swept trees beyond. “Is everything on schedule?” she asked in a flat monotone.
A brief feeling of rebellion flared within Peter. “I don’t know,” he snapped. “I didn’t call him.” She whirled around to glare at him and opened her mouth to speak, but Peter cut her off. “Look, Kristen. I understand why you’re upset, and I think you have a right to be. John has behaved like a bastard. But what you’re doing is wrong, and *way* out of proportion. The only thing Marlena *ever* did to you was love the man you love. You have no right to-”
“No *right*!?! Oh, that’s a laugh, Peter, coming from you. How dare you take the high moral ground with me,” she sneered. “What about Jack? What has he ever done except love the woman you love – the woman who has his *child*?” She gripped his arm painfully. “Remember Laura’s poison paint? You would do anything you had to to hold on to Jennifer, the same as me.” He shook off her hand. “It’s not the same. No matter how much he provoked me, I never *ever* went this far in retaliation against Jack.”
She tossed her hair back contemptuously. “You mean you never had the *guts* to go this far. And because of that, Jennifer left you.” She scowled. “Well, that’s not going to happen to me. I will not lose John because I didn’t have the courage to do what’s necessary to keep him.” He shook his head tiredly, but gave it one last try. “No, you’ll just

lose him because he’ll hate you for what you’re planning to do to Marlena. Don’t you see, Krissy?” he asked, his tone wheedling. “The one thing you can’t do is harm Marlena Evans. John could forgive anything in the world but that.”

Her eyes glittered coldly. “I’m not interested in his forgiveness…or his *friendship*. I’ll risk everything I have to make John mine, no matter what the cost. I’ll have everything I want or nothing at all.” His expression hardened. “Well, if you’re asking me which one I think it’ll be…” He studied her flushed, unrepentant face and sighed. “No, I don’t suppose you are. But I’m out of it, Krissy. I won’t do your dirty work anymore. If you’re going to do this, then you’ll have to do it yourself. I have my own life to worry about.” He spun on his heel and stalked out of the living room.
She blinked, a bit stunned at her brother’s sudden desertion, then
scowled. “Some life, brother! A soon-to-be-ex- wife who hates you and
absolutely *no* friends…” She picked up the portable phone and
stabbed angrily at the buttons. “I don’t *need* your help,” she
muttered, listening to the ringing of the phone. “Bart, yes, hello, it’s
Kristen,” she said when the DiMera employee answered. “Is
everything set?” A sinister smile bloomed on her face. “Good.” She
hung up without another word and gazed down at the large diamond
still resident on her left ring finger. “Goodbye, *Doc*!” she murmured
sweetly. And then she laughed.
***
“The dishes are done!” John called, opening the door of the kitchen and snapping the dishtowel with a grand flourish. “Good,” Marlena said, leaning back on the couch and covering her eyes with her hand. Her face was pale from the periodic bouts of morning sickness that seemed to have no rhyme or reason, neither confining themselves exclusively to morning nor invariably happening then. But that’s a good thing, she told herself, or this morning’s bit of *exercise* wouldn’t have happened.
“Are you feeling any better, Doc?” John asked solicitously, sinking down onto the cushion next to her. “Yes,” she sighed. “This is really annoying, John. I absolutely *love* the smell of peanut butter and jelly. There’s no reason on earth why making sandwiches for the children to take to playgroup should make me want to throw up.”

John smiled, but his eyes held concern. “Maybe it was the corn chips Brady insisted on mashing into his.” She smiled weakly. “Maybe…How long to we have before we have to leave?” He glanced at his watch. “A couple of hours. Do you think you’ll feel up to it?” She groaned theatrically. “Well, it can’t be morning forever, can it?” John laughed. “Leave it to you to invent *afternoon* sickness, Doc.”

Marlena picked up a couch pillow and hit him playfully on the arm. “Very funny. I wonder how much *you’d* like it.” She turned around and sank into his arms, her back to his chest. He began to rub her temples gently. “Oooh, that feels good.” He trailed one finger down her cheek. “There’s more where that came from, Doc,” he said suggestively.
She chuckled weakly. “I don’t think you want to do that, John. We have yet to discover how truly inopportune this nausea can be.” He shuddered. “What a lovely thought, Marlena.” She smiled. “Well, I-” The trilling of the telephone cut her off before she could continue. John offered her an apologetic glance before picking up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hi, John, it’s me.” John grimaced and placed his hand over the receiver. Kristen, he mouthed to Marlena. She managed to keep from rolling her eyes; instead, she nodded and leaned back against the couch cushions. “Hi, Kristen,” John replied in a disinterested tone. “How are you?”
How the hell do you think I am! Kristen flared in automatic response to his unenthusiastic greeting. She took several deep calming breaths. Calm down, Kristen. Remember, you’re actually quite happy today, because soon you’ll haveeverything you deserve. She cleared her throat. “I’m fine, John, but I really need to see you. Today.”
John sighed tiredly. “Today isn’t really a good day, Kristen. I have to run over to Titan, and Doc has a meeting at the hospital.” He tried to avoid noticing the hand Marlena waved in front of his face, indicating that he didn’t need to accompany her to her meeting with Dr. Reilly. Exasperated, she reached over and pinched him. “Ouch. Quit that.” Kristen’s puzzled voice echoed across the line. “What?”
“I wasn’t talking to you,” he replied in an offhand tone as Marlena glared at him. “Just a minute, Kristen.” He covered the receiver with his hand again and frowned at Marlena. “Doc, I don’t want you

meeting with Reilly without me.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Oh, come on, John. I can handle one obnoxious, egotistical doctor without a big strong man by my side. And believe it or not, he sounded almost *polite* on the phone earlier. Besides, it’s not like you can follow me around at work for the rest of my *life*!” She offered him a passable Leonard McCoy imitation. “You’re a mogul, not a doctor.” She sobered. “And you can’t keep avoiding Kristen the way you have been, no matter how much enjoyment it has secretly afforded me. She’s pregnant with your baby, and she deserves a bit of your attention.”

He scowled at her. “Thanks for reminding me, Doc. You’re just a ray of sunshine today, aren’t you?” She raised her eyebrows, unimpressed by his rejoinder. “You know I’m right, John.” He sighed, his mood blackened further by her astute observation. “Fine,” he muttered, uncovering the receiver. “In about an hour, okay?” he snapped. “Fine,” Kristen replied, jumping a bit at the abrupt crash that signalled the termination of their conversation. Her cheeks burned with humiliation at his peremptory tone. Tossing her hair back, she tried to savor her moment of triumph, but somehow, she could not quite manage to do so.
John closed his eyes and counted to five, his hand still resting on the receiver. Marlena watched him in quiet amusement. “Just who is it you are angry with, John?” He smiled ruefully. “Oh, I don’t know. You…me…*her*…” He opened his eyes. “I can’t believe I got us into this insane situation, Doc. I can’t believe that I’m sitting here with the love of my life while another woman is having my child…”
“And the love of your life is having someone else’s…” Marlena finished quietly. He turned to look at her, hurt in his eyes. “I didn’t say that, Doc. I wasn’t even thinking it.” Marlena closed her eyes, shame coloring her face. “I know you weren’t. But *I* was.” She remained silent for a moment, then opened her eyes and turned toward John, her expression serious. “I need to apologize to you, John.”
He frowned. “Apologize? For what?” She averted her eyes guiltily. “For the question I asked you yesterday.” “Hey,” he said, reaching up to catch her cheek in the palm of his hand, “I told you I understood that. It was a fair question – you needed to know how I felt about the baby.” Slowly she shook her head. “I already knew that, John.” His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

She sighed. “I mean that on some level, I already knew that you would never allow your feelings for Stefano to affect your relationship with this baby.” She looked up at him. “You’re such a loving, forgiving, *fair* man, John. I knew that even before Father Francis reminded me of it when you took me to see him.” Sardonic humor lighted briefly in her eyes. “And, after all, you were going to *marry* one of Stefano’s children, weren’t you? That indicates a certain ability to overlook the DiMera connection.”

It was John’s turn to look away. “Yeah, well…” he muttered. She reached for his hand. “I’m not bringing that up to hurt you, John. I just said it to illustrate how irrational my fears were. Or what *appeared* to be my fears, anyway…” He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “What does *that* mean?”
She took a deep breath and compressed her lips. “It means that I think I was using my so-called concerns about your reaction to my pregnancy to cover up my own feelings.” He gazed down at her, his expression serious. “What *about* your own feelings?” She blinked back sudden tears. “I just think maybe I wasn’t really afraid that *you* couldn’t love this baby – but that *I* couldn’t.”
John inhaled sharply. “Oh, Doc…” She nodded miserably. “I know, I know. It’s an awful thing, isn’t it? To wonder whether or not you could love your own child…” He pulled her into his arms. “Come on, Doc. You are the most loving person I have ever met in my life. Look at the way you are with Carrie and Brady, and they aren’t even your biological children. Look at the concern you’ve shown for Kristen’s baby, when you have every right in the world to resent that child. Of course you’ll love your baby!”
Marlena shook her head and pushed away from his chest. “It’s not the same thing, John.” She bit her lip. “When I look at Brady and Carrie…I see two beautiful children created out of love. It doesn’t matter that they aren’t mine *biologically* – I just feel privileged to be an influence in their lives.” She looked away. “And Kristen’s baby…is *yours*…is a part of you.” She looked back up at him. “I could no more resent a child of yours than you could a child of mine.”
He frowned, puzzled. “I’m sorry, then, because I’m not sure I understand your concern. If you can accept *Kristen’s* child…” She closed her eyes. “I had a dream last night,” she whispered. “I dreamed

that I’d given birth to the baby, and he was asleep in his crib and I went to check on him…and I looked down into the crib, and it was *Stefano* looking back at me…but not him, somehow…and then the baby opened his mouth to cry, but what came out was Stefano’s horrible mocking laugh…” A lone tear rolled down her cheek. “And then he said, ‘I told you that you would never be free of me, Marlena.'” She swiped angrily at her eyes. “And in that moment, I hated him. I hated my own child!”

John cupped her face between his hands and waited for her to open her eyes and look up at him. “It was a nightmare, Doc. It wasn’t real. You of all people should know that.” She nodded slowly. “It *was* a nightmare. But it could come true, John, you know it could. What if as this child grows he *does* resemble Stefano. What if he looks at me with *his* eyes and smiles with *his* evil smile. What if I can’t help *hating* him for that?”
He pulled her back against his chest and gently smoothed her hair. “I’m not going to minimize how that dream made you feel, Doc.” She smiled through her tears, recognizing her own speech patterns in his words. “But I *know* you, better than anyone, and you’ll just have to trust me when I say you won’t hate this child. I know you won’t.”
Marlena rested against his chest silently for a moment. “Maybe…maybe it won’t be *hate* but…” John craned his head to look down into her eyes. “But what?” She idly fingered one of the buttons on his shirt. “I see it all the time in my practice, you know? Dysfunctional families, rebellious children…parents who don’t love their children equally…That can cause terrible rifts within a family.” He sucked in a breath of dawning comprehension. “Is that your fear?”
She nodded miserably. “I guess so…” He rubbed her back gently for a few moments. “I don’t know what to tell you, Doc,” he said finally. “I don’t *think* that could happen, but considering the circumstances under which this baby was conceived, I can’t say it would be impossible.” He bit his lip, considering. “But then again, if we’re aware of the possibility, then we can try to keep it from happening, can’t we?” Marlena shrugged tiredly. “I don’t know, John…I just look at Belle sometimes, and I can see parts of you in her, mixed with parts of me – a perfect combination of the best of both of us. And I look at Brady and Carrie, and they’re like these wonderful presents that I received

without ever doing anything to deserve them. And Sami and Eric were the product of so much *love*…” She ducked her head and rubbed her stomach. “And this baby was the product of coercion and deceit. I don’t know if I can ever forget that.”

“I don’t think that you should expect to. But maybe in time…maybe it won’t matter so much.” “Maybe…but what if I have the baby, and then find out that it does? It’ll be too late, then, John, and I’ll have brought a child into the world who will grow up knowing his mother resents him. Do you have any idea how destructive that could be?”
He buried his face in her hair and rocked her back and forth in his arms for a few moments. “I don’t know what to tell you, Marlena. But I want you to remember that I’ll stand behind you no matter what you decide. I love you, Doc, and I’ll accept any decision you make.” She smoothed the wrinkles from the front of his shirt with her fingers. “You don’t have any…*philosophical* objections?” she asked carefully.
He frowned, confused. “What?” She craned her neck to look up at him. “You *were* a priest, John. And you did tell me that you found that…mindset…surprisingly compatible with yours. I was wondering if that would make…*certain* decisions hard for you to accept.” She clenched her fists and took a deep breath. “When you took me to the church to talk to Father Francis, he asked me if I was thinking about killing this baby.” She felt the muscles in John’s chest tense.
“He had no right to ask you that!” he replied sharply. She bit her lower lip. “Didn’t he? And isn’t that what we’re really talking about here? I mean, no matter how you phrase it, that’s basically what it is.” She looked up at him. “Doesn’t that bother you? Don’t you see it as a…a sin or something?”
He sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t know, Marlena. I *do* know that I don’t hold as simple a view as the church does. You know, painting all pregnancies with the same brush, so to speak.” He opened his eyes and looked down into hers. “I think I do agree that people who make the decision to make love have to be ready and willing to accept all possible consequences.” He reached out and gently brushed her hair back. “But that isn’t the case here.” Marlena looked away guiltily, and John pulled her gaze back to his with an index finger under her chin. “It *isn’t*,” he insisted implacably.
She closed her eyes. “Maybe…” she whispered, “I just don’t know

yet…” John squeezed her tightly. “We still have some time. Nothing has to be decided today.” Marlena nodded into his chest. They held each other for a few moments, before Marlena finally pushed away from him, sighing reluctantly. “I guess you’d better get going.” He scowled. “I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone, Doc. Why don’t I just call Kristen and tell her-”

Marlena cut him off. “No, John. You *need* to go and see her.” She looked up into his eyes. “We have to be fair about this, John.” His scowl didn’t fade. “Life isn’t fair, Doc, didn’t you know?” he muttered under his breath, then sighed defeatedly. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to snap at you. I *know* you’re right about this, but I can’t help it – I *don’t* want to see her. Seeing her just reminds me of what a mess I’ve made of things.” He shook his head. “And it’s not just an excuse when I say I don’t want to leave you alone. We still don’t know if Stefano-”
“-is even alive!” she finished impatiently. “Look, John, I understand your worry, and I’m not going to insist on taking unnecessary risks. But I have a *bodyguard*, for heaven’s sake. Frank is right outside, and when he leaves Ray takes over. I will *not* be alone, and you owe it to Kristen to go and see her. You know you do.”
He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Did anyone ever tell you that it’s kind of annoying when you’re right all the time? Maybe you could try to be wrong every great once in a while, huh? Just to make the rest of us mere mortals feel a little better?” She grinned up at him and kissed him gently on the cheek. “I’ll think about it. In the meantime, I guess you’d better get going.” John regarded her solemnly for a moment. “I guess I’d better.” He cupped her cheeks between her hands and gave her a long passionate kiss. “Love you, Doc,” he whispered, before getting up from the couch and heading toward the door.
“I’ll see you later,” Marlena called. He turned back and nodded to her before the front door clicked shut behind him. She sighed and leaned back against the cushions. “I love you, too, John,” she added softly. She looked down at her stomach and placed a gentle hand on top of it. “What am I going to do about you, little baby?” In her mind’s eye she could still see the small round face from her dreams, screwed up in an evil, twisted reflection of his father. She shivered and curled up in a ball on the couch, her arms wrapped around her knees, rocking

back and forth silently for long minutes. She was so lost in thought that it took several rings of the doorbell before the sound penetrated her silent reverie.

“Just a minute,” she called, wiping tearstains from her cheeks. She got up from the couch and crossed over to the door. “Oh, hello,” she said when she opened it. “Good heavens, what are you doing here?” “I thought it would be all right, Dr. Evans,” Frank said from his position behind the woman standing on the doorstep. “Mr. Black told me you two were friends.”
“Well, yes,” Marlena replied, nonplussed. “It’s just a *surprise*, that’s all. Um, please, come on in.” She stood back from the doorway and waved Rachel Blake inside. “Dr. Evans?” Frank interjected before she could shut the door. “Yes?” “I talked to Ray on the celphone a few minutes ago. He’s going to meet us over at the new house for his shift. You *are* still planning on going over there before visiting the hospital, aren’t you?”
She wrenched her distracted gaze from Rachel, who was staring down at the couch with an uncomfortable, miserable look on her face, and turned back to Frank. “Yes, I have some paint samples I need to drop off. I’ll be ready to leave as soon as we’re finished.” She looked past his shoulder, then back toward Rachel. “Did she drive here?” He shook his head. “No, she came in a cab.”
She nodded. “Well, I suppose I can drop her by the DiMera house after we’re done. It’s in the same area.” She grimaced. “That’s where John is now.” Frank nodded. “I know. He told me.” He watched her silently for a moment. “He didn’t seem like he wanted to see her very much,” he finally ventured tentatively.
Marlena offered him a guilty smile. “I really shouldn’t be happy about that…” He grinned at her. “Well, nobody’s perfect.” She grinned back. “Right. Thanks, Frank.” “No problem. If you need anything, I’ll be right outside.” Marlena closed the door behind him and turned back to Rachel, who was staring at the family pictures on the mantle, an indecipherable expression on her face. “Rachel? Is there something I can do for you?”
Rachel turned toward her slowly, her veil fluttering with every rapid breath. “No, Marlena,” she said, slipping one hand into her jacket pocket. “Actually, I came to do something for you.” Unseen, her fist

clenched around the silver key.

***
Kristen opened the front door of the DiMera Mansion before the doorbell had even finished ringing. “John, I’m so glad you came. Come on in.”
John tossed her an impatient glance before striding quickly into the living room. He turned to face her, and held his arms wide, his expression questioning. “Well, I’m here. So what’s so incredibly important?”
Kristen smiled at him. “You’ll see.” Trust me. You *will* see very, very soon.
Chapter 39
Marlena regarded Rachel silently for a moment, but the other woman did not seem inclined to elaborate on her rather ambiguous statement. “You said you wanted to do something for me?” Marlena prompted gently, eyebrows raised. Rachel’s veil fluttered above a nervous exhalation of breath. “You’ve been so kind to me, Marlena,” she whispered finally. “Even in the beginning, when you didn’t know who I was, you were kind. Kinder than you needed to be. Kinder than I deserved.”
Marlena’s brow furrowed quizzically. “Than I needed to be? What does that mean, Rachel?” Rachel lowered her eyes and looked away. Marlena sighed. “I’m sorry, Rachel, but you’re going to have to explain it to me. I still don’t remember anything from the past ten years. I don’t know *how* we met or what possible reason I might have *not* to be kind to you, or why you might have deserved it.”
Rachel looked up at her and blinked, surprised. “But I’m Kristen’s mother.” Marlena nodded encouragingly. “Yes. I know that. But John says Kristen and I are…*were* friends. And even if we weren’t, why would that affect my relationship with you?”
Rachel turned away, nervously fingering the lapel of her coat pocket. Clearly agitated, she strode over to the fireplace, then turned swiftly on her heel to pace back toward Marlena, her movements jerky and unsure. “It’s my fault Stefano erased Johnny’s memory, did you know that?” she asked, the sentence rushing out on one long breath. “I’m the reason Stefano hates him so much. I’m the reason Johnny doesn’t remember most of his life. I’m the reason you believed Johnny was

your husband…” She was babbling now, her words running together, nervous and quick.

Marlena reached out and caught her hand. “John explained it to me, Rachel, and it wasn’t your fault,” she stated firmly. “I believed John was my husband because I *wanted* to believe it. And John certainly doesn’t blame you for anything that he went through. You were a *victim*, Rachel, the same as I was…as Roman was…and John…”
“And Kristen…” Rachel added, her low voice almost pleading. “And Peter…” Marlena’s face grew shuttered. “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t remember any of that.”Rachel looked up at her with wounded eyes. “My children…” she moaned, anguished. “They were just babies when I saw them last. Beautiful, innocent, wonderful babies. I had such plans for them.” Naked pain echoed in her voice. “And Stefano took them away, to raise in his own image.” Her face crumpled. “My son…” Marlena’s expressionless mask dissolved under a surge of compassion. “I know about Peter,” she said quietly. “John told me. And it does sound like he learned Stefano’s lessons well.” She laid a compassionate hand on Rachel’s shoulder. “But that wasn’t your fault, Rachel. You did the best you could.” “I didn’t *protect* them,” Rachel replied miserably. “I was their mother, and I didn’t protect them from him.”
Marlena’s hand unconsciously reached for her stomach. “Sometimes, no matter how hard we try, there are some things we cannot protect our children from,” she murmured, her gaze faraway. Something in her voice caused Rachel to eye her sharply, but before she could deduce what was wrong, the moment was shattered by the ringing of the telephone. Marlena let out a frustrated sigh. “Excuse me,” she murmured, picking up the receiver. “Dr. Evans…”
An officious voice squawked loudly into her ear. “Yes, Dr. Evans, this is Dr. Reilly’s secretary. I’m calling to confirm that you *will* be meeting with Dr. Reilly today as scheduled.” The secretary’s tone left no doubt in Marlena’s mind that Reilly had indicated to her just how reliable he felt Marlena to be. Oh, that’s *really* professional, Dr. Reilly…
Her reply was just the tiniest bit snide. “You may tell Dr. Reilly that I *will* be there, on time, as scheduled. Thanks *so* much for calling.” She hung up without waiting for a response, and turned to find Rachel

regarding her with wide eyes. Marlena shrugged apologetically. “I’m sorry. That was a very *rude* co-worker, but I suppose that’s really no excuse for rudeness in return.”

Rachel waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all right. It’s just…” “Just what?” Marlena prompted, sitting down on the couch and patting the cushion next to her. Rachel sat down on the edge of the cushion. She frowned. “You seem…different…to me somehow.” Marlena compressed her lips and cocked her head, considering. “Well, everybody changes in small ways over time. But I must say I don’t feel any different. Of course, I wouldn’t remember it if I *had* changed significantly in the past few years.” She eyed Rachel thoughtfully. “I’m different, am I? So how did I used to be?”
Rachel thought for a moment, then eventually shrugged. “It is difficult to explain…” Marlena leaned forward. “Well, let’s try this, then. If you could choose one word to describe how I was before, what would it be?” Rachel’s eyes clouded briefly with memory, then she turned her gaze to Marlena. “Sad…” she finally replied softly. “You were sad. Not unhappy, or bitter, or complaining. You were even happy sometimes, laughing and smiling. But underneath it all was sadness. Very deep sadness. All the time.”
Marlena blinked back sudden tears. Rachel’s thoughtful words evoked a feeling of compassion for the woman she had been during those missing years, the woman Marlena had come to hold in some contempt for her incomprehensible, irrational decision- making and inept, destructive behavior. But Rachel’s description painted a much different picture, one that caused Marlena to shift uncomfortably in her seat. “And now?” she asked quietly.
Rachel regarded her thoughtfully for a moment. “Strong,” she blurted suddenly. “Very strong. Not that you weren’t strong before, but I don’t see…I don’t see the *guilt* anymore…” She nodded slowly, realization lighting her features. “That’s what is different. Your regrets no longer weigh you down. They no longer shadow you.” Marlena shook her head. “I don’t know about that,” she said, rubbing her stomach again. “I still have plenty of regrets. I’ve hurt so many people, made so many bad decisions…”
Rachel looked away guiltily. “Everyone has regrets, Marlena. But if we let them define our lives…” Marlena regarded her intently. “Is that what

you’re doing?” Rachel set her jaw. “It has been. But I decided today that it no longer would be. I decided today to prevent myself from letting my guilt about the past rule my actions…and leave me with even greater regrets in the future.” “What kind of greater regrets?” Marlena asked quietly.

Rachel took a deep breath and stared down at her hands. “I wasn’t there for my children, Marlena,” she murmured. “And because of that, I’ve…*excused*…behavior from them that I probably shouldn’t have.” She looked up and added hurriedly, “I didn’t *condone* it, Marlena. I let them know how much I disapproved of the things they did, but I never did anything to prevent them. I just felt so *guilty*, because it was *my* fault that they weren’t better people in the first place. Stefano took them away because of me.”
Marlena shook her head impatiently. “That’s ridiculous, Rachel. He kidnapped you and locked you away from your children, the same way he did Roman and me. Unfortunately, your children weren’t as lucky as ours, because they didn’t have someone like John looking out for them. But it was *Stefano’s* fault, Rachel, not yours.” She frowned. “And I’m not sure I understand what behavior you’re talking about – with regard to Kristen, anyway. I mean, I know what Peter did to Laura, but what did Kristen ever do to anyone?”
Rachel closed her eyes and bit her lip, slipping her hand into her pocket and grasping the key. Here goes…Dear Lord, help me do this…
She opened her eyes to find Marlena regarding her quizzically.
“Marlena-” she began.
“Mom?” a young voice called, accompanied by the sound of the front door opening. Rachel closed her mouth, faintly ashamed by the overwhelming relief she felt at not actually having to ruin her daughter’s future – not just yet. Marlena twisted around on the couch to smile at Sami. “Hey, sweetie. I thought you were taking Will to the park.” Sami shrugged and offered Rachel a polite smile. “I did,” she replied, leaning against the back of the couch. “But we ran into Kate, and I decided to let Will spend some time with her.” She grimaced, her face dark with memory at what had obviously been a very unpleasant encounter. “Not that she deserves it, but she *is* his grandmother.”
Marlena smiled and patted her daughter’s hand. “That’s very generous, sweetie. I know that you don’t like her.” “She’s a class-one,

grade-A…” Sami darted a look at Rachel and choked back the word she’d been planning to use, “…witch.” Marlena shot her an admonishing glance and Sami flushed slightly. “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting. I just thought I’d come home and see if the kids wanted to go to the playground.” Marlena smiled. “I’m sure they’d love to, sweetie. They should be back from playgroup with Mrs. Naughton in about an hour, if you want to wait.”

Sami nodded. “Okay. I’ll just be up in my room looking at the college course schedules.” She turned to Rachel. “Um, it’s nice to see you again,” she offered politely, then frowned, looking back at Marlena. “Don’t you have a meeting at the hospital today, Mom? Where’s John?” “He had to go see Kristen,” Marlena replied, her expression carefully blank. Anger flashed in Sami’s eyes, but a warning look from Marlena prevented her from uttering the scathing reply that lay ready on the tip of her tongue. “I’m going over to the hospital after I drop some samples off at the house.”
The anger faded from Sami’s face and she grinned down at her mother. “So, have you seen the light and opted for signal-flare orange?” Marlena laughed. “Well, you know, I thought about it, but I figured daily retina-burn was a little much to suffer just to make a fashion statement.” She reached over to the coffee table and picked up the samples, handing them to Sami. “This is what made the final cut. You liked all of these, didn’t you?”
Sami gave them a perfunctory perusal and nodded, satisfied. “Yup, those are cool. So, when are we going furniture shopping?” Marlena’s brow furrowed. “I don’t know. I should have some idea what my schedule’s going to be like after the meeting today. It might be that we’ll have to do the lion’s share of it on the weekends.”
Sami frowned. “But that could take forever, Mom. Don’t you think it would be a good idea to move in as soon as possible? I mean, moving is kind of a strenuous thing…” Her voice trailed off and she glanced uneasily at Rachel. Marlena’s hand again reached instinctively for her stomach, and Rachel didn’t miss the tell-tale movement. Her wavering resolve hardened at the sight of the protective gesture. I’ll make sure your baby is unharmed, Marlena. Her fist clenched around the key.
“We’ll see, honey.” Marlena glanced at her watch. “Oh, my goodness, look at the time.” She offered Rachel an apologetic glance. “I’m sorry,

Rachel, but I really need to leave.” She grimaced. “It wouldn’t do to be late to my meeting. My boss seems to value punctuality quite highly.” Rachel glanced toward Sami. “But I really must speak to you, Marlena,” she said, her tone pleading. Sami narrowed her eyes, her curiosity piqued by the urgency in the other woman’s tone. “Of course, Rachel,” Marlena said gently. “How about if I give you a ride over to the mansion? It’s on my way, and I really need to drop off these samples before my meeting.”

Rachel nodded reluctantly, silently promising herself that she wouldn’t reveal anything while Marlena was behind the wheel. Her news would be a shock, and not a pleasant one. “All right.” The ringing of the doorbell brought a rueful smile to Marlena’s face. “It’s Grand Central Station here today, isn’t it?”
Sami tossed her a grin over her shoulder as she strode to the door. “Frank!” she exclaimed when she opened it. “Is everything okay?” “Not exactly,” he said, grinning down at her. “Hey, Sami.” He looked toward Marlena. “I’m sorry, Dr. Evans. I just tried to start my car, but something seems to be wrong with the alternator. There’s no juice.” She frowned as she stood up from the couch. “Oh no, Frank, we really need to leave now if I’m going to be on time to my meeting.” “I could call Ray to come over here and meet us,” he offered.
Marlena shook her head. “That would take too long.” She sighed. “Look, we were meeting him over at the house, anyway, right? Why don’t you stay here and use Sami’s car to jump yours, and if that doesn’t work, call a tow truck. Rachel and I will be all right.” Frank frowned. “Mr. Black wouldn’t like you driving over there alone, Dr. Evans. Maybe you should let me-”
“If *Mr. Black* didn’t want her to be alone, then he shouldn’t have left,” Sami interrupted irritably, her querulous tone indicating to Marlena that she hadn’t forgotten her earlier anger. Marlena held up a quelling hand. “I understand why John had to leave, Sami. In fact, I *encouraged* him to. Look Frank, it’s not a long drive over to the house. Stefano wouldn’t have time to plan anything, even if he is still out there. We’ll be fine.” Her lip quirked with not-quite-hidden humor. “I know you haven’t said anything, but even I can tell you think John’s gone a bit overboard here. And I happen to agree with you. So I won’t tell him if you won’t.”

Frank still looked upset, but nodded reluctantly. “All right.” He stood

back from the doorway to allow Sami to go out, car keys in hand.
“We’ll see you later.” Marlena nodded and turned a bright smile on
Rachel. “Are you ready to go?”
Taking a deep breath, Rachel nodded.
***
Kristen entered the living room to find John standing with his back toward her, staring out into the backyard through the glass of the French doors. The sight of his broad shoulders caused her breath to catch in her throat. He was leaning back on his left leg, his right turned outward slightly in a comfortable slouch, his arms crossed over his chest. She walked toward him on silent feet – one advantage to no longer being pregnant meant that she didn’t clomp around like a severely overweight duck anymore. Nervously she smoothed her heavy flannel shirt over the fake pregnancy suit, hoping against hope that the camouflage was adequate. She reached out and tapped him gently on the shoulder. “John?”
He turned to look at her, his face abstracted, as if he’d been deep in thought about something else and had yet to finish. He raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”
She smiled sweetly at him. “I’m very sorry to bother you because I know how busy you are. But it’s becoming necessary to make some plans.” She patted her rounded stomach, and nodded, satisfied, when his gaze followed her movement. His eyes darkened for a moment, but when he looked up at her, his expression was distantly polite. “Plans?”
She nodded and sat down awkwardly on the couch. “My doctor told me it’s time to start thinking about Lamaze classes…” He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and in a sudden flash of realization, Kristen *knew* that he didn’t want to be a part of their child’s birth. She squelched an automatic flare of blazing anger. “I know we had planned to do this together, but circumstances would seem to make that impossible now. I know you wanted to be there for the birth…” She was rewarded for that jab with a guilty sideward glance. Good. You *should* feel guilty. “But I really think, considering everything that’s happened, that it would be better for Peter or my mother to be my coach.”

John nodded a little too quickly. “Of course, Kristen. The important thing is that you’re comfortable.” Yeah, sure, she thought bitterly. “I know that you delivered both of your other children, and I had really hoped to continue the tradition, but now I just don’t think it’s a good idea. You understand.” He nodded again. “Of course.” He glanced down at his watch. “Is that all? Because I’d really like to meet-” He cut himself off abruptly, as if just remembering to whom he was speaking. “Marlena,” Kristen finished, managing with Herculean effort to keep the anger from her tone.

He flushed slightly. “Um, yes.” He avoided her eyes guiltily. “Can I get you anything before I go?” Kristen managed a discreet glance at her own watch. Just a few minutes longer… “Actually, I’d love a glass of milk, if it’s not too much trouble.”
“Sure,” John sighed, trying not to show his annoyance that his pro forma offer had resulted in an actual request. “I’ll be back in a minute.” He disappeared through the doorway toward the kitchen. “You’ll be back *forever*,” Kristen murmured happily, staring down at her watch. “Tick-tock, tick-tock, time’s run out for Doc,” she sang under her breath. She laughed delightedly at her own joke and leaned back against the couch. It’s time for you to pay, Marlena.
***
Rachel sat in the passenger seat of Marlena’s small red car, deep in thought, silently attempting to figure out the best way to begin telling Marlena everything Kristen had done. “I just love this road,” Marlena commented happily, her melodic voice breaking into Rachel’s gloomy reverie. Rachel blinked at her. “What? Why?”
Marlena tossed her a bright smile before returning her attention to the traffic ahead. “Well, this is the new road to the lake…” She frowned slightly. “Or it was ten years ago, anyway. It took them a really long time to finish it, and for quite a while, the only part that was completed was the hill approach going down to the lake.” Rachel frowned, puzzled, wondering why ancient construction delays made Marlena so happy. “The winter before Stefano…took me…Salem had the most snowfall it had had in twenty years, and the hill was covered in snow. And since the road wasn’t needed for thru-traffic yet, the city closed it down and let the children sled down it.”
Rachel began to smile. “That must have been fun for them.” Marlena

nodded happily. “Oh, they *loved* it! The lake was frozen completely solid, so when they reached the bottom they shot straight out across the ice. It looked absolutely terrifying to me, but Sami, Carrie and Eric must have gone down it at least a hundred times.” Rachel arched an inquiring brow. “Did you?”

Marlena laughed. “Well, I hadn’t planned on it, but then Carrie double-dog-dared Roman and me…well, it was John, really, but he was Roman at the time…so of course we had to do it then. And it was absolutely exhilarating. I remember being terribly disappointed that we had waited so long, because it was almost dark, and we didn’t have time to go again. But I still remember the feel of the wind in my hair and John’s laughter in my ear.” Her face softened with the memory. “That was such a wonderful time in our lives. The children were so young and so happy.” She sighed deeply. “I still find it difficult to accept that I missed so much time…” She stared absently out of the windshield. “I wonder if they ever went sledding down that hill again,” she murmured.
“If they did,” Rachel said softly, “I’m sure it never matched the memory of those days with you.” She looked down at her lap, one hand tightly gripping the key in her pocket. “But I understand your grief for what you missed. Children are so precious, and they change so fast…sometimes into people we don’t even recognize…”
A strangled noise erupted from Marlena’s throat, and Rachel looked up in time to see bleak misery crossing her features, her hand again clutching her stomach convulsively. Why would that upset her so? Rachel frowned. “Marlena? Did I say something wrong?”
Marlena offered her a wan smile. “I’m sorry, Rachel. It isn’t you. It’s just that John and I have had some…disturbing news recently.” Her hand tightened on her stomach. Rachel stared down at it, utterly confused. Disturbing news? Finding out she’s pregnant is disturbing? But that doesn’t make any sense… She looked up at Marlena’s face, and something in the other woman’s tormented expression struck a chord deep within Rachel. She recognized that kind of despair…despair that had Stefano DiMera at its roots. But what does Stefano have to do with this? Confused, she looked down again, and the slight swell of Marlena’s stomach produced the stunning answer to that question. It reverberated in her mind with all the power of a

gunshot to the head. It’s not John’s baby! It’s *Stefano’s*! She brought her hand to her mouth, gasping in horror as the pieces all fell into place. Stefano’s *deal* while she was in the cage – his offer of her freedom in exchange for… Rachel closed her eyes, pained sorrow piercing her heart. Oh, Marlena…

Marlena took a deep breath and schooled her features into a smile, but one glance at Rachel’s expression caused her smile to fade into concern. “Rachel, are you all right?” Rachel swallowed. “Yes, I’m fine, Marlena.” Marlena nodded, doubtful but willing to let it pass. “I’m sorry we kept getting interrupted today. I could tell that whatever you wanted to speak with me about was very important to you. Can you tell me now?”
Rachel blinked, faced with the sudden realization that the baby’s paternity changed everything. If Kristen finds out the baby is Stefano’s, she won’t *want* Marlena to lose it. She’ll want it to be born in hopes that it will break up John and Marlena forever. In her heart of hearts, Rachel knew that nothing short of dynamite would accomplish her daughter’s objectives, but suddenly, there existed the possibility of time to convince her of the error of her ways. She knew that if she only had sufficient time, she could convince her daughter to turn her life around, to become the good person she knew she could be. But if she ruined Kristen’s relationship with John now, her grandchild would suffer forever for it.
She looked up at Marlena, feeling slightly guilty upon seeing the trusting look in the other woman’s eyes. “I just wanted to tell you again how sorry I was for all the pain you and John suffered because of me. I don’t know if there is any way that I can ever make it up to you, but I really would like to try.”
Marlena studied her intently for a moment, before returning her gaze to the road. “I told you,” she said firmly, “none of that was your fault, so there isn’t anything to make up.” She bit her lip, then continued, “But I do know that your living with Kristen makes John feel a lot better.” She kept her eyes straight ahead. “I wouldn’t blame you if you were angry with us for hurting Kristen. But John *does* want the best for her, and I know he’s glad she has her mother with her.”
Her guilt loomed larger upon hearing evidence of Marlena’s customary generosity. “I’m not angry with either one of you,” Rachel offered

finally, hoping that small gesture would ease Marlena a little bit. “You are two of the kindest people I’ve ever known in my life. I’m very lucky to have both of you as my friends.”

Marlena turned her head to smile at Rachel. “Likewise.” She looked
back at the road and her smile widened. “We’re almost at the top of
the hill,” she informed Rachel, her eyes sparkling merrily. “Ladies and
gentlemen,” she intoned in a racing announcer’s voice, “start your
sleds…” Rachel laughed.
The car topped the hill.
***
Lucas Roberts jogged to a halt next to one of the green wooden benches that framed the lake. “Dammit,” he muttered angrily, attempting once again to adjust the earphones more comfortably on his head. Bitterly, he wondered if the designers deliberately *tried* to make the devices as uncomfortable as possible. Giving up, he swore under his breath and tossed the expensive walkman onto the bench.
Breathing heavily, he stared out across the lake, trying to banish from his mind the picture of Austin and Carrie entwined in one another’s arms, the way he had discovered them in the basement that morning. They hadn’t seen him, at least. He’d immediately backed away from the door and pressed up against the wall, just in time to hear Carrie express her satisfaction that the Matron of Honor and the Man Who Walks Her Down the Aisle were all set for their wedding.
“Their *wedding*!” he muttered disgustedly. “It’s *not* going to happen.” But his tone was more petulant than strident. Ever since Sami had moved in with John and Marlena, she’d been less than receptive to his ideas on how to break up Austin and Carrie. It wasn’t that she was any more of a fan of them than he was, Lucas knew. She still wanted Austin for herself, and her anger at Carrie didn’t seem to have abated much. But she had a family again, which, in the end, was what she had been searching for all along. And he was less than confident about the probability of success without the most devious mind in Salem on his side.
“Dammit,” he swore, massaging a sudden cramp in his calf. “I guess this is my punishment for bailing out on work.” He didn’t truly feel guilty
– hell, it wasn’t like his mother *ever* showed up anymore, and Austin and Carrie spent all their time making out in the basement. And God

*knows* what the hell Vivian is up to…

He turned his back to the lake, his gaze roaming across the verdant estate that bordered the hill road that led down into Lakeshore Estates. He’d probably run a couple of miles, almost halfway around the lake, past Victor’s home, John and Marlena’s new house, and, further along, the DiMera mansion. Accustomed as he had become to such luxury, the sight of the grand houses did not actually impress him. But every once in a while uncomfortable flashes of insight made him consider thedifferences between the childhood he’d had and the one Austin and Billie had endured.
“Shut up,” he told his emerging conscience, and it obediently returned to wherever it lurked most of the time. He frowned as a compact red car appeared through the trees that obscured the top of the hill. “Geez, go a little faster, why don’t you, buddy?” he cracked sarcastically, blithely ignoring the fact that he took the hill at reckless speeds all the time. It was such a rush. But he was a *good* driver, and this person didn’t seem to be one. The car fishtailed from one side of the road to the other. “Hit the brakes!” he muttered, edging nervously away from the park bench, which was situated directly in the car’s path.
He stared at the car as it moved faster and faster, as if drawn toward the lake by some inexorable force. The realization slowly came to him that he was about to witness something incredibly horrendous. “Stop!” he shouted, though he recognized the illogic of it. Obviously if the driver could stop, he would have by now, and he would never be able to hear Lucas over the air rushing by, anyway. Lucas stood frozen in his tracks, utterly helpless to do anything but bear witness to an emerging disaster.
As the car came closer he managed to discern two figures sitting in the front seat, their arms waving frantically. He saw two faces, pale behind the glass, but before he could make out any more, it was over. The vehicle, hurtling forward at a hundred-plus miles an hour, plowed through the park bench as if it were made of paper – sending the walkman flying – then crashed through the guard rail without pause, sailing out across the water.
Lucas almost laughed, his shocked mind supplying incongruous images from a television show that he’d been addicted to as a child –

The Dukes of Hazzard, each episode of which had contained a completely improbable, physics-defying car stunt. He almost expected the vehicle to land on top of the water and float there, like some sort of James Bond invention. But right before his horrified eyes, the front of the car entered the water at a near-perpendicular angle, accompanied by the terrible screech of rending metal. Seconds later, all that was left on the surface were a few forlorn bubbles.

Lucas closed his eyes, and – disregarding the fact that he’d dismissed
the existence of God at the precocious age of ten – began to pray with
all his might.
Chapter 40
Lucas tugged frantically at his knotted shoelaces, cursing nonstop
under his breath. He darted a quick glance toward the spot in the lake
where the car had disappeared, but the telltale roiling bubbles had
subsided. The surface appeared deceptively calm and serene. Come
on, come on, *come on*! he prompted the unknown passengers. Get
out of there! *Please*… He finally managed to yank off the heavy
shoes, flinging them aside with no regard for where they landed. He
took a deep breath, waded into the shallows and plunged headfirst
into the lake.
***
“Here’s your milk,” John said, thrusting the glass toward Kristen. A few drops of milk spattered onto her shirt. “Sorry.” “It’s okay,” she said, offering him a bright smile and dabbing at the liquid with her free hand. “Well, I have to go.” He opened his mouth as if to say something else, then snapped it shut. He nodded to her and turned toward the door. “Wait,” Kristen said abruptly. “Um…are you going to meet Marlena at the hospital?”
He turned back to her, frowning in confusion at her sudden question. “Actually, yes. She has a meeting with the new Chief of Staff, and she should have already left by now to get there on time.” I know, Kristen thought, privately gloating, an expression of simple polite interest on her face. “You seem upset,” she commented diffidently.
John grimaced, admitting, “I don’t like him very much.” He shook his head. “But that’s not your problem. And I don’t think he’s going to be a problem for Doc much longer, either.” A hint of satisfaction tinged his voice. Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. Nothing for you to be concerned with, anyway. Look, I’ll talk to you later, okay? I really have to leave now if I want to meet up with Doc.” “Su-” she began, but was interrupted by the ringing of the phone. “Excuse me a minute,” she said, reaching for the phone. She smiled inwardly, outwardly preparing a reaction of stunned dismay. “Hello?”

“It’s Sami,” Sami snapped. “Is John there?” “Just a minute.” Kristen held the phone out toward John, who was halfway out the foyer. “It’s for you. It’s Sami.” John frowned and reached for the phone. “Sami? Is something wrong?” “You tell me, John,” Sami replied in a hostile tone. “What the hell are you doing over at Kristen’s?”
“At the moment, leaving,” he said. “I’m going to try and catch Doc at the hospital. Her meeting with Reilly is in a few minutes, and I don’t want her going in alone. Not that she couldn’t eat him for breakfast if she wanted, but I thought I’d offer a little moral support.” “Oh,” Sami said, sounding slightly mollified. “Well, if you hurry, you should be able to catch her. She left with Rachel a few minutes ago to drop the wallpaper and paint samples off at the house before her meeting.”
“Rachel?” John asked. Kristen looked up at the mention of her mother’s name and frowned at him questioningly. He held up a hand to silence her. “What’s Rachel doing with Doc?” Kristen froze. What the hell is he talking about? Mother’s upstairs… A cold ball of dread uncurled in her stomach. Isn’t she? “You got me,” Sami replied. “She was already here when I got home. And she was acting really weird.” “Acting weird? How do you mean?” he asked. Kristen bit her lip nervously. “I dunno, John. I *always* think she’s weird. But she was really eager to talk to Mom, so Mom offered to give her a ride back to the mansion.” Her tone turned a bit puzzled. “Actually, I would have thought they’d have gotten there by now.”
John glanced at his watch. “Don’t worry about it, Sami. They’ll probably be here in a few minutes. Besides, Frank would have called if something was wrong.” Sami coughed nervously. “Um, actually, Frank’s here with me. His car wouldn’t start, so we had to use mine to jump it. Mom couldn’t wait for us because she didn’t want to be late meeting Reilly.” John compressed his lips angrily. “You tell Frank I’ll be having a word with him when we get home later. Don’t worry about it, Sami – I’ll find them. Maybe Rachel decided to go with her to the

hospital or something. I’ll let you know what I find out. Talk to you later.”

“Later.” John hung up the phone and turned to find Kristen regarding him with wide, shock-blank eyes. “My mother’s with Marlena?” Her voice rose hysterically on the last word, but John didn’t seem to notice. He frowned down at his watch. “Yeah,” he admitted in a distracted tone. “Sami said Rachel had something to tell Doc, but Marlena didn’t have time to wait, so she offered Rachel a ride home. But they should have *been* here by now…”
Kristen gripped the back of the couch with nerveless fingers. “My mother is in Marlena’s car?” she whispered. John blinked and looked up at her. “What? Yes, that’s what Sami said. Um, do you mind if I just wait here for them? I’m sure it won’t be long.” Kristen’s knees gave way and she collapsed onto the couch. “Fine.” She closed her eyes, waves of agony cascading through her chest. No, it shouldn’t be long at all…Oh, *Mother*…
***
Lucas took another deep gasping breath and plunged back down into the water. The swim to the middle of the lake had disoriented him, and he felt a cold clutching dread seize his heart at the thought that he might be diving in the wrong place. The swirling water was murky and filled with misleading shadows caused by floating trash and debris. Twice he’d thought he’d felt a piece of the car, only to pull up a tree limb and what seemed to be the wheel to a bicycle. He opened his eyes wider, ignoring the sting of the dirty water, but it didn’t help; he stretched out his arms as far as possible but found nothing. The need to breathe finally became too urgent and he pushed up toward the surface, gasping as he broke through. He twisted around frantically, conscious of the time ticking away in his mind. He knew the longer it took to find the car, the less likely it was that anyone would be found alive.
Lucas swam a little further toward the center of the lake, peering down beneath the surface as he swam, desperately trying to divine the location of the car. I should have called the cops or something…I’m less than worthless here! Objectively, he knew that it would have been much too late to save anyone had he waited for help to arrive, but that didn’t lessen the crushing weight of disappointment in his chest.

A sudden splashing noise caused his head to snap up, and he found himself faced with the back of a woman’s head, covered with streaming wet hair. For one hysterical moment he wondered what to say – Hello doesn’t seem to quite cut it… But his momentary dilemma was solved when the other person whirled around, breathing in long, deep, gasping breaths. His eyes widened. “Dr. Evans?” he sputtered.

She looked up in shocked surprise, her eyes empty of any sense of recognition, her expression grimly terrified. “You have to help me! She’s still in the car, and I think she’s hurt very badly.” “Who?” he asked frantically. “Sami? Carrie?” But she had already disappeared beneath the surface of the water. Taking a deep shuddering breath, he plunged down after her.
The world below the surface was eerily silent, but for the first time, Lucas felt a modicum of hope, because he could finally make out the car, wedged into the muddy floor of the lake at an awkward angle, the hood open, the glass of the front window shattered. The passenger door lay half-embedded in the mud, and Marlena had apparently given up getting to whomever else was in the car that way. He saw Marlena’s ghostly form maneuvering back through the driver’s side door and swam down over the hood to help her. From that vantage point he could finally see her passenger’s face – or at least the part of it that wasn’t swathed in sopping cloth. Rachel Blake, he thought, guiltily remembering how funny he’d found Sami’s I Dream of Jeannie jokes. Marlena had already unfastened the other woman’s seat belt; the airbag hung to the side, deflated, undulating limply in the swirling water. A deep gash on the side of Rachel’s head indicated it hadn’t done its job very well.
Marlena tugged frantically at Rachel’s right arm, which was wedged at an unnatural angle between the crumpled passenger-side door and the edge of her seat. Lucas threaded his arm through the shards of glass ringing the front window and grasped Rachel’s left hand, tugging hard. He felt bones give way where bones never should, but he knew that any ancillary injuries had to be secondary to the likelihood of imminent drowning.
Marlena gave one last, mighty yank and Rachel’s arm finally slipped free. She tugged Rachel from the seat and back out of the driver’s door. Lucas swam around to meet them, and between the two of

them, they managed to lug Rachel to the surface. By the time they reached it, both were desperate for air. Marlena wedged her hand under Rachel’s chin, trying valiantly to keep her head above the water. “Help me,” she managed between watery gulps. “We have to get her to shore.”

He nodded, conserving his breath by not speaking. He hooked one hand under Rachel’s left arm, and Marlena mirrored his actions on her right side, bracing the unconscious woman’s head with her shoulder. Slowly, awkwardly, they began the laborious process of towing her toward shore.
It seemed like hours to Lucas, but he knew that it could have only been a few minutes, before he felt the soft give of the mud beneath his feet. He clambered forward, collapsing on the strip of sand that passed for a beach, exhausted. Marlena fell to her knees next to him and began performing cardiopulmonary resuscitation on Rachel. Lucas pushed himself up on his elbows and leaned toward them in an unspoken offer to help, but Marlena merely flicked him a dismissive glance. For the first time, he noticed that she, too, had been injured in the crash. Blood ran down her face, but the cut from which it flowed was hidden somewhere underneath her hair. He also noticed that she favored her left leg as she knelt at Rachel’s side.
“Are you-” *cough* “-all right, Dr. Evans?” She flung her hair back impatiently, never pausing in her efforts. “Don’t worry about me,” she snapped. “Just get an *ambulance*!” He nodded and leapt to his feet, turning to race down the road toward Victor’s house. The rough stones lining the road cut into his bare feet, but he didn’t even feel them. One fleeting glance backward revealed Marlena working tirelessly over the lifeless woman before her. Come on, come on… he urged mentally – to Marlena, to himself, and especially to Rachel Blake. ***

John paced impatiently in front of the sofa, finally coming to a halt in front of the grandfather clock on the mantle. “I don’t get it,” he muttered. “Where the hell are they?” Kristen sat frozen on the couch, her hands clasped so tightly together that she could feel the tendons rubbing against the delicate bones of her fingers. “I don’t know,” she whispered from bloodless lips.
John’s celphone rang. He fumbled for his pocket, snapping the phone

open with suddenly nerveless hands. “Hello?” “J-John?” “Yes?” He frowned. “Is this *Lucas*?” “Yes.” Lucas inhaled deeply. “Um, I’m sorry, John, but there’s been an accident. Dr. Evans, she…she-” His knuckles were white where they gripped the phone. “What’s wrong with Doc?” “The car…the car went into the lake. I don’t know what happened, but she couldn’t stop the car down Lakeshore Hill and it went into the lake.”

John squeezed his eyes shut. “Is she-” “She’s alive,” Lucas blurted out, miserably aware that he wasn’t very good at breaking bad news. “She got out on her own, in fact, and she went back for Rachel. She sent me to call for an ambulance while she gave Rachel CPR.” John swallowed. “Rachel?” “Dr. Evans had her breathing by the time the ambulance got there – I don’t know anything more about her condition. The cops drove me to the hospital. They wouldn’t let me ride in the ambulance with them.”
John clenched his jaw. “But Doc’s all right? You said she’s all right, didn’t you?” Lucas drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “I *thought* she was…” His voice broke. “But she fainted right after the ambulance got there, and she hasn’t regained consciousness yet. She has a…a cut on her head. It was bleeding pretty badly. One of the paramedics said it might be serious head trauma. He said she was probably running on pure adrenaline, and after she knew Rachel was in good hands…” His voice trailed of on a tremor of pure exhaustion.
“University Hospital?” John asked, his voice tight. “Yes.” “I’ll be right there.” He snapped the phone shut with a vicious curse. “Doc’s had an accident. I’ve got to get to the hospital.” Kristen clutched his arm as he strode past her. “My mother?” she asked in a strangled voice. He blinked. “What? Oh, God, I’m sorry, Kristen. Lucas said she was breathing. That’s all I know.” “I’m coming with you.”
He nodded, turned and fairly flew from the room in his desperation to
see Marlena. Kristen directed a quick prayer up to heaven and ran
after him. Moments after the front door slammed shut, her phone
began to ring.
***
Lucas hung up the phone, frowning. He did not notice as his brother came up behind him. “Are you all right?” Mike asked, a concerned expression on his face. Lucas wrenched his gaze from the door to the

ER and glanced at Mike impatiently. “I’m fine, Mike. I wasn’t *in* the car, remember?” “I know that,” Mike replied, unruffled. “But I don’t think the blood on the floor came from Marlena or Rachel. Where in the world are your shoes?”

Lucas looked down at this feet, Mike’s words causing him to feel the pain of several vicious cuts made by the stones in the road for the first time. “I don’t know,” he said, shaking his head. “I had to take them off before I went into the lake, and I just forgot about them.” Mike laid a companionable hand on Lucas’s shoulder. “You did good, little brother. You should be proud of yourself.” Lucas offered him a miserable half-smile. “If anything happens to Dr. Evans, Sami and Carrie will be devastated. She *has* to be all right, Mike. She just has to be.”
Mike nodded. “Did you get hold of them? And John? And Peter and Kristen?” “I talked to John, and Marlena’s bodyguard Frank – who’s going to tell Sami – and Austin.” Lucas grimaced. “He’s going to bring Carrie and he said he’d call the Bradys. I also talked to Peter, but no one was home at Kristen’s.”
A shout at the end of the hallway caused both Mike and Lucas to look up. “I don’t think it matters,” Mike murmured, watching John race down the hall toward them, Kristen a few steps behind. He took an involuntary step backward as John reached for his arm, a wild, panicked look on his face. “Where’s Doc? How is she? Is she conscious?”
“Hey, whoa, John, slow down a little. I was just going to go check on Marlena.” Gently he extricated himself from John’s vise-like grip. “If you’ll excuse me…” “Mike?” Kristen asked in a hollow voice. “My mother?” He offered her an apologetic look. “I don’t know, Kristen. I’ll go check on both of them. You just wait here.”
Lucas, John and Kristen watched as Mike disappeared down the hallway, then John turned toward Lucas. “What the hell happened, Lucas?” Lucas shrugged. “I don’t know, John. Something was wrong with the car, obviously, but Marlena didn’t say anything more than that. All she cared about was getting Rachel breathing again.” Kristen clutched at his arm. “But she did, didn’t she? Mother’s alive?” Lucas nodded. “But that’s really all I know. I’m sorry.”
“John!” Sami’s shout echoed down the hallway and they turned to see

her running toward them, Frank trailing after her. “Where’s Mom?” she asked frantically. “How is she?” John caught Sami in his arms and tried to calm her with a hug, but she pushed away from him angrily. “Mike just went to check on her Sami. Calm down.” She shoved him. “Don’t tell me to calm down! Why the hell weren’t you with her? You’re supposed to be protecting her! How could you let this happen?!?

Naked pain flashed in his eyes. “Sami, I’m sorry. You have to believe me. This is the last thing I ever wanted – you know that!” Sami turned her anguished face up to his. “She was supposed to be safe now,” she whispered, tears filling her eyes. “She was supposed to finally be safe. We were supposed to finally be a family.” The tears spilled down her cheeks.
John enveloped her in his embrace. “We *are* a family, sweetheart. And your mom’s going to be okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “She has to be.” Sami’s arms tightened around him and she buried her face in his chest.
Kristen sank down on one of the waiting room sofas, her mind racing. You weren’t supposed to be there, Mother. Why were you with Marlena? What were you *doing* in that car? John’s words reverberated in her mind – *Sami said Rachel had something to tell Doc…* Her fists clenched in her lap. What did you need to say to her, Mother? Were you going to betray me? *Did* you betray me?
“John?” Carrie’s fear-filled voice caused John to look back down the hallway. Austin and Carrie approached them from the open elevator, hands clasped, twin expressions of anxiety on their faces. “How’s Marlena?” He shook his head. “We don’t know anything, Carrie. Mike went to check.” Carrie closed her eyes and leaned into Austin’s side. “I can’t believe this happened.” She opened her eyes and glanced over at Lucas, who was wrapping a blanket about himself in an attempt to avoid looking at his brother and his brother’s fiancee. He finally turned to face Carrie. She offered him a grateful smile and reached over to squeeze his hand. “Thank you, Lucas. Thank you for what you did for Marlena.”
He shrugged, the blanket slipping from his shoulder. “Anyone would have done it.” Austin stared at him curiously for a moment. “That’s not true, Lucas,” he said finally. “What you did was really heroic.” Lucas shook his head. “I’m not the one who was heroic. Dr. Evans got out all

by herself, and she’s the one who pulled Rachel from the car and gave her CPR to get her breathing again, even though she was hurt herself.”

John hugged Sami tighter. “That sounds like Doc all right.” “What sounds like Doc?” asked a shaky voice from the doorway to the ER. Sami pulled away from John and moved across the room in a flash. “Mom!” she cried, pulling Marlena into her arms. “Hey, sweetie-girl.” Sami buried her face in the green scrubs Marlena wore to replace her sodden clothing. “Are you all right, Mom?” she asked in a muffled voice.
Marlena rubbed her hand over Sami’s shining hair, her eyes locked on John’s. He offered her a weak smile, the overwhelming relief he felt causing his knees to turn to jelly, and he had to grab the back of the sofa in order to stay upright. She smiled at him. “I’m fine, baby. Just a little banged up, that’s all. And I think I’m going to need a new car.”
Sami laughed shakily and released her mother. “Well, let’s try for something a little more hip this time, okay? I wouldn’t mind a Miata or a Porsche.” Marlena stepped toward John on shaking legs. “I’ll keep that in mind, honey,” she murmured, her eyes never leaving John’s. She reached a trembling hand up to his cheek. They both gasped at the contact, and John reached out to haul her up against his chest in a fierce hug. “Are you all right, baby?” he asked, tears clogging his throat. “Are you really all right?”
She smiled into his shirt. “I’m really all right. I promise you.” They held each other tightly for a moment, enveloped within the respectful silent gazes of their loved ones – except for Kristen, who was regarding them with an unnoticed expression of utter loathing. Finally Marlena released John and turned to Lucas, giving him a grateful smile. “I think I owe you a very big thank you,” she said. He smiled back and offered her his hand. “You don’t owe me anything. But I’m very glad you’re all right. I’m Lucas Roberts, Kate’s son.” She shook his hand. “Well, it’s nice to meet you, but frankly, I generally prefer a bit tamer of an introduction.”
Everyone laughed, and the remaining tension in the room dissolved. John looked down at Marlena and gently traced her cheek with his finger. “What exactly did the doctor say, Doc? Is the…is *everything*…okay?” Unconsciously, Marlena reached for her

stomach, but her eyes remained locked on his face. “Everything’s fine, John. Don’t worry,” she replied quietly. His eased his hand over hers and kissed her softly.

A slow, burning rage uncoiled in Kristen’s stomach at the sight of the tender expressions on their faces. I lose *my* baby and maybe my mother, too, all because of Marlena and she somehow manages to come out of it without a scratch. Damn her! Damn her to hell! She struggled to her feet and muttered in a scathing tone, “Everything is *not* fine! What about my *mother*?”
Marlena turned toward her, her eyes widening as she noticed Kristen’s presence for the first time. “Oh, Kristen,” she said apologetically, “I’m so sorry…” “Don’t tell me *that*,” Kristen snapped. “Tell me what *happened*.”
Marlena frowned and looked up at John. “I don’t really know what happened exactly. The brakes just stopped working when we were going down Lakeshore Hill. You know how steep it is – there was no way I could turn before we hit the lake.” She offered Lucas another smile. “We’re just very lucky that Lucas came along when he did.”
Lucas flushed, protesting, “I didn’t do anything, really.” He was spared further embarrassment by Mike’s return through the doors of the ER. “There you are,” the doctor exclaimed, smiling at Marlena. “You know, you shouldn’t run out on your doctor like that. It makes the hospital look bad when we can’t find our patients.” Marlena laughed. “Sorry, Mike.” Then she sobered. “How’s Rachel?”
The smile fell from Mike’s face and he turned to Kristen. “I’m sorry. It’s very touch and go right now. Rachel suffered serious internal injuries in the crash, possibly because of the faulty deployment of the airbag. She has a rather serious head wound, massive internal bleeding and a punctured lung, most likely by a broken rib, as a result either of the crash or maybe the CPR.”
Marlena paled, and he reached for her arm, meeting her worried gaze steadily. “You did what was necessary, Marlena. If you hadn’t gotten her breathing again, then this whole discussion would be moot. You did what you had to do to keep her alive. Remember that.” Marlena inhaled deeply and nodded, sinking back into John’s arms. Kristen clenched her fists in rage. Marlena may have killed my mother, and everyone thinks she’s a heroine! She turned to Mike. “Is she in

surgery, then?”

He shook his head. “She’s still in shock. Opening her up right now would be too risky. We’re giving her massive transfusions and medication to stabilize her condition. If it works, we should be able to operate in a few hours.” Kristen exhaled slowly and nodded her comprehension. “All right. Can I see her?”
Mike glanced at his watch and nodded. “For a few minutes. Come with me; I can show you where to go.” He smiled at Carrie and headed down the hallway. Kristen turned to follow him, then looked back at John, an expression of naked vulnerability on her face. “You’ll be here, won’t you? You won’t leave?”
John looked down at Marlena’s damp hair, bedraggled scrubs and bare feet. “Actually, we-” “We’ll be here,” interrupted Marlena firmly. “We’re not going anywhere.” She offered Kristen a sympathetic smile. Kristen stared at her for a few moments, blank-faced, then turned without a word to follow Mike. Marlena watched her leave before burying her face in John’s shirt. “Oh, I hope Rachel’s all right. I’d never forgive myself if-” “Hey,” John objected. “Mike said you did what you had to. It’s not your fault.”
She shook her head. “It isn’t that,” she said in a low voice. She sighed. “I was driving too fast, John. Rachel and I had been talking about…” she eyed Sami and Carrie, who were deep in conversation with Lucas and Austin over in the corner, “…about sledding down Lakeshore Hill all those years ago, and when we reached the top, I gunned the motor a little bit.” She winced. “It was just a joke, you know? But maybe if we’d been going a little bit slower in the first place, I would have been able to pull into a turn without going into the lake.”
John grasped her shoulders. “And maybe if I’d had the car checked out, the brakes wouldn’t have failed. And maybe if I’d been with you instead of at Kristen’s…” He sighed. “We can come up with about a million *ifs* that would have let us avoid this situation, but it’s pointless, Doc. What is, *is*, and we just have to deal with it.”
She considered that for a moment before finally nodding. “You’re right. As you said, ‘Life isn’t fair’ – and I guess we can’t really expect it to be.” She grimaced ruefully. “I’d settle for it being a tad less *eventful*, though.” John laughed and gave her a hug. “It doesn’t ever seem to let up, does it? Just one thing after another.”

“Dr. Evans?” a strident voice called from across the hall. Marlena turned to greet Dr. Reilly, murmuring under her breath to John, “And appearing as if to illustrate your point…” She raised her voice. “Dr. Reilly! I’ve been meaning to-”

“To what?” he snapped, eyeing her scrubs disdainfully. “Perform brain surgery? Is that what was so important that you disregarded our planned meeting with nary a word of notification?”
“Hey, wait a minute,” John growled. Marlena laid a restraining hand on his arm. “Dr. Reilly,” she said in a carefully controlled voice, “I was *on* my way to our meeting, when I had an unfortunate accident with my car.” He regarded her reproachfully. “Then the proper course of action would have been to call my secretary and let her know you would be late.” Marlena squelched the urge to giggle hysterically. “Oh, sure,” she said, sarcasm out in full force, “I *did* try, but for some reason my celphone wouldn’t work from *underwater*.” Reilly frowned, puzzled. “What?”
She offered him a bright smile. “Well, at the moment our meeting was to begin, my car, myself, and my companion were all at the bottom of Salem Lake. And frankly, I’ve been rather busy since then. I’m afraid we’re going to have to reschedule. I’m *so* sorry.” “I’m afraid *I* don’t find this very amusing, Dr. Evans,” Reilly snapped, disbelief written all over his face. “No matter *what* the Board says, I find your *complete* lack of professionalism a disgrace to your profession *and* this hospital. Therefore, I think-”
“You wait just a damn minute,” John spat, advancing toward Reilly. Marlena’s grip on his arm intensified. He glanced down at her impatiently. “I know you can handle this, Doc, but this bastard’s going to hear what *I* have to say, or-”
Marlena’s face had drained of all color. She stared up at him with haunted eyes. “It’s not that,” she whispered. She released his arm and wrapped her arms around her stomach, bending nearly double. “Oooh, God, it *hurts*!”
“Mom?” Sami called as she and Carrie hurried across the room to Marlena’s side. John fell to his knees next to Marlena. “Doc? What is it?” Marlena looked up at him, tears of pain and anguish brimming in her eyes. “I think it’s the baby, John. Help me…” She bit her lip as another stabbing spasm of pain rocked her body. Her eyes rolled

back, and she fell to the floor in a dead faint.

John managed to cushion her head before it hit the floor. “Damn, damn, damn….” He looked up at Reilly. “Get a doctor. *Now*!” he
ordered as Reilly stared down at Marlena, shocked. Dismissing the other man without another word, he leaned down to softly kiss Marlena’s forehead, cradling her gently in his lap. “Hold on, Doc. Just hold on…”

Chapter 41

The first sound Rachel heard as she slowly swam toward consciousness was the rhythmic beeping of hospital machinery. She frowned weakly, confused, because her last memory was of flying through the air over Salem Lake in Marlena’s car. How did I get to the hospital?

The next sound she heard was the comforting murmur of a nurse. She concentrated hard, and soon the words became clear. “Why don’t you let me take that, Mrs. Blake? I’ll take very good care of it, I promise. But we need to get you ready for surgery.”

What in the world is she talking about? Rachel thought. Slowly she became aware of a gentle tugging on her fingers, which were clenched tightly in an unbreakable fist. Why? Rachel wondered dully. What was so important that I wouldn’t let it go, even while I was unconscious? A picture began to form in her brain; unaccountably, she fought it, but was helpless to prevent the realization – it was the *key*. That’s what was so important – the key to destroying my daughter’s life! She moaned in anguish and indecision. If I tell Kristen that Marlena’s baby isn’t John’s, maybe she’ll change her mind about hurting Marlena…but what if Marlena’s already dead? She was devastatingly certain that her daughter had been responsible for the failure of the brakes in Marlena’s car as they had careened down the hill. But if Marlena *is* dead, then what’s the point of telling the truth? Shame washed over her. Now you sound like Kristen, Rachel. Just how evil are *you* willing to be? She swallowed with difficulty. But if I tell what I know, Kristen will go to jail. My grandchild will be born in jail. A picture of her daughter cradling a baby behind cold metal bars swam in front of her eyes, and she moaned again, sinking back into despair. The waiting blackness crept in to claim her mind. Slowly her hand went limp.

The nurse smiled down at her patient and removed the key from Rachel’s senseless fingers, placing it in the corner of the bedside meal tray. She glanced up at the screen of one of the monitors and, frowning, made a small notation on Rachel’s chart. A sound at the

door made her turn. Mike poked his head through the doorway. “Is she asleep, Paulette? I’ve brought her daughter to visit for a few minutes.” Paulette nodded. “Actually, I think you might want to look at her chart, Doctor.”

“Okay.” Mike stood back from the doorway to allow Kristen entry. She offered him an abstracted smile, her gaze already locked on her mother. “We’ll be right outside. Please stay for only a few minutes, Kristen. Your mother needs to rest and gain her strength for the surgery.” Kristen nodded. Paulette patted her shoulder sympathetically on her way out.

Kristen sank into the chair next to the bed, shifting sideways until her arm rested on the bedside tray. Her sleeve brushed the key, and it slid across the tray with a rasp of metal on plastic. The slight noise did not register, as all of her senses remained focused on her unresponsive mother. She leaned forward and took Rachel’s limp hand in her own. “So tell me, Mother,” she murmured. “Just what the hell were you up to? Why were you in that car with Marlena?”

***

“I’m here, Doc,” John said, gripping one of Marlena’s hands tightly and mopping her sweating brow with a cool wet cloth. “I know,” she said, biting her lip to keep from crying out in pain. “God, it hurts so much, John.” John shot a desperate glance toward Dr. Bader, who was standing in front of the fetal monitor, a deep frown on her face. “Can’t you give her something for the pain?”

“Not yet,” Dr. Bader replied, her tone laced with sympathy. “We need to get a clearer picture of what’s going on first.” She pulled on a pair of sterile gloves with a resounding *snap*. “I’m going to examine Marlena now. If you’ll step outside please…” Marlena’s grip on John’s hand tightened. “Don’t worry, Doc,” John said, responding to her unspoken message. “I’m not going anywhere.” He looked up at Dr. Bader. “I’m staying right here. Dynamite couldn’t move me.”

Dr. Bader smiled. “Very well.” She turned to Marlena, her professional

mask falling into place. “I will try not to increase your discomfort, but I must make a thorough examination.” Marlena squeezed her eyes shut and nodded. “I understand,” she whispered. John snuck his arm behind her shoulders and she leaned her face into his chest, finding comfort in the warm circle of his arms as the examination began.

***

“Carrie?” Sami, Austin, Lucas and Carrie looked up from where they’d been sitting frozen on the couch, locked in a deep, worried silence. Carrie stood and held her arms out to her grandparents. Shawn and Caroline each enveloped her in a heartfelt hug. “How’s Marlena?” Carrie darted an uncertain glance toward Sami. “Well, we thought she was fine, then she just…sort of collapsed a few minutes ago. She and John are in the examining room right now.”

Caroline wrung her hands worriedly. “What about Rachel?” Sami shrugged. “We don’t know. Mike took Kristen in to see her. They’re going to have to perform some kind of surgery on her when she’s stabilized. It looks like she’s a lot worse off than Mom is, though.” Shawn frowned. “I’m not understandin’ this. You’re sayin’ Marlena collapsed while you were here? Does that mean she wasn’t hurt in the crash, then?”

Carrie and Sami traded uneasy glances. “Um, not exactly,” Carrie offered miserably, not wanting to lie to her grandparents, but also unwilling to break Marlena’s confidence. She let out a quiet sigh of relief when Peter, Jennifer and Jack arrived to interrupt their conversation. “Where’s my mother? Is she all right?” Peter demanded before anyone could muster up a halfway cordial greeting.

“Your sister is with her,” Mike informed Peter as he reentered the room through the door to the ER, his tone one of studied neutrality. Carrie glanced at him sharply, her discerning eye detecting the slow-burning rage just beneath his professional facade. Mike cocked a thoughtful brow at her, acknowledging her perception, then turned to his sister, his brow furrowed. “What are you doing here, Jen?”

“Well, Peter was at the house when Lucas called him on the celphone.

Jack and I were worried about Marlena and Rachel, so we came over, too.” Mike scowled at Peter. “What was *he* doing at the house?” “That’s what I wanted to know,” Jack interjected darkly. “And he never did give a very good reason.” Peter clenched his fists as he turned to glare at the man he held responsible for the destruction of his marriage. “Jennifer is still my wife,” he snapped angrily. “Not for long,” Jack shot back.

Jennifer held up her hand. “Stop it, you two. We’re here because of Rachel and Marlena. This stupid fight can wait.” She turned to Mike. “How are they?” He sighed. “Well, Rachel is critical. She needs surgery, but her body can’t handle it yet. We’re waiting for her condition to stabilize. And Marlena is…” He looked around the room and frowned. “Where *is* Marlena?”

***

Marlena studied Dr. Bader anxiously. The doctor stood in front of the sink with her back to them as she slowly peeled off her gloves, one finger at a time. Without looking at John or Marlena, she moved over to the monitors and studied the screens for a moment.

“Dr. Bader?” John asked, concerned by her extended silence. The doctor sighed. “I’m afraid the news is…complex.” She walked over to stand next to the bed and regarded Marlena with sympathetic eyes. “Per your agreement and consent, Dr. Horton informed me of the details of your case. I was going to discuss them with you when you came in for your appointment next week.”

Marlena blinked and looked away. “You mean the fact that Stefano is the baby’s father, don’t you?” she asked, tightlipped. Dr. Bader nodded. “Yes. It’s my understanding that you do not remember the circumstances of the conception of this child.” Marlena closed her eyes and swallowed with difficulty. “Not really. I have an idea, though.” Dr. Bader looked down at her chart. “Did you ever consider the possibility of impregnation by artificial insemination?”

Both of their heads snapped up. “What?” Marlena asked

incredulously. Dr. Bader nodded and tapped her clipboard. “There are several physical indications that you underwent that procedure. In addition, conception would have been unlikely in your case for physical reasons without an extended effort at impregnation. Mr. DiMera might have wished to minimize any difficulties – not to mention wanting to save precious time. He must have know Mr. Black would be looking for you.” Marlena turned to John with shining eyes. “I turned him down, John,” she whispered breathlessly, a heavy weight she hadn’t known she’d been carrying lifted from her chest. “I told him no!” She pulled John into a fierce hug, cool stunned relief coursing through her veins.

He gently kissed her cheek when she finally released him. “I told you that it made no difference to me, Doc. I would have understood your reasons for making the other choice. But I’m very glad for your sake.” He frowned. “Not that subjecting you to unwanted surgery really makes the situation all *that* much better. I can’t believe the extent of the evil of that bastard.”

Marlena nodded and leaned back against the pillow. “But at least now I know I was never a willing part of it.” She rubbed her hand gently over her swelling stomach and looked up at Dr. Bader. “So how *is* the baby, Doctor? The pain has really subsided. That’s a good sign, isn’t it?” Dr. Bader regarded her silently for a long moment before bowing her head in sorrow. “I’m sorry, Marlena,” she said finally. “I’m very sorry to tell you this…but the traumatic shock of the accident seems to have been too much for your pregnancy. I’m afraid your baby…didn’t survive.”

***

Rachel came to consciousness suffering from a feeling of deja vu – just as before, someone was tugging on her fingers and talking to her. It only took her a moment to realize that the person was Kristen. “I never meant for you to get hurt,” her daughter was saying. “You shouldn’t have been in that car, Mother. I only wanted to make sure Marlena didn’t have John’s baby.” Her grip tightened. “It’s not fair, Mother! She has everything, and I have nothing. She doesn’t deserve

John the way I do. Everyone thinks she’s so *good* and *honest* and *decent*. But she’s not, Mother. She’s selfish and greedy and manipulative. But I can’t seem to make him see that.” A deep sigh. “And now you’re hurt, too.” Her voice hardened. “She’ll pay for this, Mother, I promise you she will. She won’t get away with hurting you, too. I’ll see to that.”

Rachel managed a barely audible moan. “Nooo…please…” Kristen’s grip tightened so much that Rachel winced in pain. “Stop defending her, Mother! After everything she’s done to us, how can you still defend her? Mike *said* the CPR she performed on you caused your internal injuries. You wouldn’t need this surgery if it weren’t for her. And she’s going to pay for it. I’m going to *make* her pay.”

Rachel heard the tinge of madness in her daughter’s voice and sighed internally, finally admitting defeat. There’s nothing you can do for her now, Rachel. She’s become too much like Stefano, and she doesn’t want to change that. It’s time to protect her victims now. The pain of that realization magnified the agony of her injuries a hundredfold.

Kristen’s head shot up as the monitors connected to her mother began to beep wildly. She scooted the chair back abruptly, toppling the bedside tray and sending the key flying toward the wall, unnoticed. “Mike?!?” she yelled. “Nurse! *Somebody*! Help…Help me, please!”

***

Marlena stared up at Dr. Bader, utterly silent, her face starkly pale. John turned to look at her, confused by her seeming lack of reaction. “Doc?” She turned blank eyes toward him. “What?” He frowned. “Are you okay? Did you hear what Dr. Bader said?” She nodded slowly. “Yes…She said my baby is dead.”

He winced and looked beseechingly toward Dr. Bader. She offered him a sympathetic smile and patted Marlena’s hand. “I know this has come as a great shock to you. I’ll leave you two alone for a few minutes.” She began to turn away, then hesitated, eyes cast down. “We’ll need to…schedule the procedure, Marlena. I…I’m free until later

this afternoon, or it will have to wait until tomorrow. Just to let you know,” she finished hurriedly. She jammed her hands into the pockets of her medical jacket and walked to the door. It clicked shut softly behind her.

John’s brow furrowed. Procedure? Marlena answered his unspoken question. “They have to induce a miscarriage,” she informed him dully. He reached up to smooth her hair back. “I’m sorry, Doc.” She stared into the distance, her eyes unfocused. “It’s my fault, John. It’s because of me,” she whispered finally. “No, Doc,” he said firmly, easing into bed beside her and drawing her into his arms. “It was an *accident*. The brakes failed.”

She closed her eyes. “I don’t mean that,” she replied softly. “What if…what if I lost this baby because I didn’t *want* him enough?” A single tear slid down her cheek. “Because I didn’t love him. Because I saw him as a burden rather than a gift.” “No,” he murmured into her hair, his arms tightening around her. “No…”

“This pregnancy didn’t really seem real to me, John. Not the way D.J., Sami and Eric did. Not the way I know Belle must have. When I was pregnant with them I felt so incredibly wonderful, like I was a part of the most important work in the universe.” She looked down at her hand, still splayed across her swelling stomach. “And all I could think when I found out about this pregnancy was that I’d rather not *be* pregnant.” Her voice broke. “And now I’m not anymore. I’m *not*…” She turned her face into his chest, heartrending sobs breaking from her throat.

He held her close, miserably aware that there was nothing he could say to lessen her pain. “I’m here for you, Doc,” he murmured, rocking her gently. She clung tightly to him as she mourned the loss of her child.

***

Peter caught Kristen’s arm as she came barrelling down the hallway, almost crashing into the knot of people milling about the waiting room.

“Krissy? What is it?” She grabbed his shirtfront and lurched to a halt, her pregnancy padding shifting awkwardly. “I don’t know what happened, Peter. I was talking to Mother, and all of a sudden, all the monitors went crazy. Mike came running in and he made me leave without telling me *anything*.”

Jennifer mustered up a sympathetic smile. “He probably didn’t *know* anything, yet, Kristen. You have to give him a chance to do his job.” Peter offered her a grateful nod; Jennifer’s expression turned stony. Sighing, he pulled Kristen toward the door to the balcony. “Okay, Krissy,” he said when the door had slammed shut behind them. “Start talking.” She glared up at him mutinously. “About what?”

“Don’t give me that,” he spat. “This happened because of your little *plan* to get to Marlena, didn’t it? Mother’s hurt because of you, isn’t she?” She shook off his hand contemptuously. “Mother’s hurt because of *Marlena*! Mike said the CPR she performed caused Mother’s internal injuries, and that’s why Mother needs surgery.” He glared at her. “Oh, *please*, Kristen. Mother needed CPR because she almost drowned in a car crash that *you* caused. Or are you going to blame *that* on Marlena, too? Like it’s her fault she couldn’t drive a car with a cut brake line.”

Kristen scowled. “Mother never should have been *in* that car. She was probably there because she wanted to *help* Marlena in her fight against me, and that *is* Marlena’s fault. She has no right to come between me and my mother.” Peter rolled his eyes and reined in his impatience with difficulty. “Why do you think she was there to help Marlena against you?”

Kristen frowned and attempted to adjust her pregnancy padding. “I don’t know, really. It’s just something that Sami said. But when I saw Marlena in the waiting room, she didn’t seem any the wiser. I guess if Mother was going to spill the beans, she never got the chance.” “Yeah,” Peter muttered disgustedly. “Thanks to you.” “Stop acting like such a Puritan,” Kristen snapped. “You knew what I was planning and you didn’t do anything to stop it.”

“I told you it was a bad idea,” he reminded her. “I told you it would probably backfire…I just didn’t have any idea how badly.” She bit her lip. “Well, you’re right about that, anyway. Mother ends up in surgery and Marlena comes out of it without a scratch. Dammit!” Peter looked down at her. “I wouldn’t say ‘without a scratch’ exactly.”

Kristen looked up at him, puzzled. “What are you talking about?” He raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t know?” She sighed, exasperated. “Know what?” “Austin said Marlena collapsed in the waiting room.” A small smile crossed Kristen’s lips. “Collapsed? Did he say why?” “Actually, he said they didn’t know. But both Sami and Carrie looked at each other sort of oddly when he said it. Like they knew something that they weren’t telling…”

Kristen’s smile widened. “Like they knew she was pregnant and losing the baby…” Peter scowled. “You know, Krissy, it’s positively sick how happy that makes you. Don’t you remember how you felt when you lost *your* baby?” “How can you ask me that?” she hissed at him. “You know I was devastated when I lost my child. But it was *Marlena’s* fault that my baby died. She *deserves* to feel that kind of pain for everything she’s done to me!”

Peter gazed at her triumphant grin and felt his gorge rise. “Well, congratulations,” he replied sarcastically. “Looks like you got what you wanted. Marlena won’t have her baby.” He reached for her arm and gripped it tightly. “I sure hope it was worth it. As far as I can tell, John and Marlena are still together and Mother might die, but you got what you wanted, and that’s all that matters, right?” Her eyes were wide as she stared up at him. “Peter-”

“No!” he yelled. “That’s it, do you hear me?!? I’m finished with this. Whatever new, even sicker plan you cook up in that brain of yours for Marlena, I don’t want to hear about it! I don’t want to see it! I don’t even want to *know*!” He flung her arm away angrily. “And you’d better pray that Mother will be all right, or you’re going to pay for this, Krissy. I promise you.”

She reached for him, but he evaded her grasp and flung open the balcony door. “I’m going to find out about Mother’s condition,” he snapped over his shoulder, stalking back into the waiting room. She trailed behind him anxiously. Jennifer, Jack, Austin, Sami, Carrie, Shawn and Caroline paced worriedly about the room. Peter, Kristen and Mike reached the nervous group from opposite directions at almost the same moment. Everyone looked toward Mike expectantly.

“How’s Mom?” Sami asked breathlessly. Carrie chimed in, “Is Marlena all right?” Mike laid a calming hand on Carrie’s arm, completely missing Austin’s annoyed expression. “I don’t know the details on Marlena’s condition, but I do know that it isn’t life threatening. Don’t worry. She’s going to be fine eventually.” The look in his eyes told Sami and Carrie that her ‘condition’ had something to do with the baby. They traded uneasy glances.

Peter’s interruption precluded any follow-up questions. “What about my mother, Mike? You know, the one who was actually *injured* in the crash?” Mike turned to Kristen and Peter, his countenance grave. “We don’t have time to wait anymore. She’s experienced a crisis. We’re going to have to go into surgery before she’s completely stable. They’re prepping the OR right now.” Peter’s jaw clenched convulsively. “Can I see her before they take her in?”

Mike shook his head. “There isn’t enough time for more than one brief visitor, and your mother asked to see a priest. We’ve already gotten in touch with Father Brant. He’ll be here momentarily.” Kristen’s eyes narrowed. “Why does Mother want to see a priest?” Mike regarded her tiredly, his face a mask of professional detachment. “She said she had something to confess,” he replied simply.

Kristen felt a nervous flutter begin in the pit of her stomach.

***

“You know what I think?” John murmured once Marlena’s sobs had subsided. “What?” Marlena asked softly, her fingers still gripping his

shirt. She wiped at her cheeks with her free hand. “I think that this wasn’t anybody’s fault, Doc. And I don’t think it’s a punishment for anything, either.” He looked down at her, his eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. “God doesn’t work that way. Trust me, I know – I was a priest, remember?”

Marlena managed a wan smile. “I know you’re right,” she said finally, sighing. “I just feel a bit hypocritical, you know? All the time that I knew this baby was growing inside me, the only thing I could think of were the problems his existence would cause. I never once saw him as a gift – as a child who deserved a life on his *own* merits, regardless of his paternity.” She smoothed her hospital gown over her stomach. “And now that I know he won’t *have* a future, suddenly I’m full of regrets.” She closed her eyes and eased back against the pillow. “Pretty hypocritical, hmm?”

He eased over onto his side until they were practically nose to nose. “No,” he murmured. “Pretty human, I’d say. You *are* allowed to be human, you know.” She grinned at him crookedly. “Gee, thanks.” He leaned forward to kiss her softly on the lips. “And I don’t agree with you that he doesn’t have a future because I believe he that he *does*. And I think it’s a pretty great one.”

She looked into his eyes, her brow furrowing in puzzlement. “What do you mean?” John pulled her back into his arms and settled her against his chest. “I think your baby is up in heaven, and he’s going to have a wonderful time there. And I think he’ll be well taken care of, Doc.” He stared up at the ceiling, a thoughtful expression on his face. “In fact, I believe that Isabella’s with him, and she’s planning to take very good care of him…” He looked back down at her and smiled. “Just like you’re taking care of Brady.” She smiled through her tears. “And other people are there, too. Like my father, Leopold, maybe,” he added wistfully. “I only met him once, you know. And at the time, I had no idea that he was my father. I was more concerned with helping my friends and family escape from Lawrence’s evil. He offered to help me, I accepted…and his efforts got him killed.” He looked back down at her. “I didn’t even stick around long enough to see him die, Marlena. I

didn’t know for years that I had actually lost my father that day. But when I remember the twinkle in his eyes…or the way his face lit up whenever he talked about Julie Williams, then I know that he’s up in heaven smiling down on us and greeting your baby with open arms.”

Marlena smiled and wiped her cheeks again. “And Sam? Do you think Sam’s with them? And D.J….” Her voice trailed off. John squeezed her

tightly. “Definitely D.J. He’ll teach him all the things big brothers do. And Sam and Isabella are probably getting along like a house afire.” Marlena let out a choked laugh. “I don’t know if I’d go *that* far.”

John kissed the top of her head. “Well, I would. You know why? Because Dr. Horton’s up there overseeing it all. And if anyone could get heaven in proper working order, it’s Tom Horton.” Marlena choked back a sob and grabbed him fiercely about the neck, pulling him to her. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I believe you.” She buried her face in his shirt. “And I love you, John Black,” she murmured softly. “I love you *so* much.”

“I love you, too, Dr. Marlena Evans,” he whispered. The doorknob snicked and Dr. Bader poked her head in. “May I come back in now?” Marlena hugged him for another long minute before finally letting go. “Sure,” she replied, leaning back and smoothing her hair. “Come on in.” Dr. Bader stopped at the foot of the bed and regarded them with warm eyes, heartened by their obvious closeness. “Have you had a chance to discuss what it is you want to do?”

Marlena shot John a sidewise glance. “Not exactly,” she said, interlacing her fingers with his. “But I think I’d like to go ahead with the procedure this afternoon.” She looked up at Dr. Bader. “It’ll be easier to explain it to everyone that way. And I think I’d like to get it done as quickly as possible.” Dr. Bader nodded. “I’ll go schedule it, then.” She turned and left the room.

John frowned at Marlena, concerned. “Are you sure you want to do this now?” She nodded. “I think the sooner I have the procedure done, the sooner I’ll be able to deal with what’s happened. Also, I believe it

would be easier right now if we don’t tell anyone else the baby’s true paternity. Maybe later I’ll decide to let more people know the real story, but right now, I’d like to keep it between us and the girls and Abe and Mike, all right?” She bit her lower lip, suddenly uncertain. “Do you *mind* if we don’t tell people it wasn’t your baby?”

John squeezed her hand. “Of course not, Doc. Besides, no matter who this child’s biological father was, he was going to be mine to love and raise as my own.” He looked at her, eyes intense, voice low. “And I *will* be mourning that loss with you, Doc,” he vowed. Marlena nodded, momentarily too overcome to speak. “I know,” she managed to murmur hoarsely. She hugged him for a bit longer, before leaning back and wiping her eyes. “I guess you’d better go and tell the girls what’s going on. They must be getting pretty worried by now.”

“Yeah,” John sighed as he scooted to the edge of the bed. He reached back to squeeze her hand. “Are you going to be okay alone for a few minutes.” She nodded. “I’ll be fine. But hurry back, okay?” He smiled. “I will.” One last squeeze, and then he left. Marlena watched him depart, then rolled over on her side and curled into a ball. She closed her eyes and rubbed her stomach gently, regretfully. “Take good care of him for me, Sam,” she whispered. “And I’ll see all of you again someday. I promise you that.”

***

Lucas crept back into the waiting room on freshly bandaged feet. Sami, Carrie and Austin surrounded him, murmuring sympathetically. He gazed around the room. “Where’d Jen and Jack go?” Sami regarded Kristen and Peter speculatively. Kristen sure seems worried about something…and for some reason, I don’t think it’s her mother’s condition. “They went to pick up Abby,” she murmured distractedly. “What do you think is going on with Kristen, Carrie? She sure looks strange.”

Carrie shrugged dismissively. “I have no idea. And frankly, I don’t really care much. But I *am* curious about what Rachel was doing in Marlena’s car today. Do you know what that was all about?” Sami

shook her head. “Not really. She just said she needed to talk to Mom.” Her gaze slid back to Kristen. “Maybe she wanted to talk to Mom *about* Kristen.”

Carrie turned to regard Kristen as well. “Maybe…” John entered the waiting room and made a beeline for Sami and Carrie. The moment they saw him they fairly leapt into his arms. “Mom?” Sami whispered urgently, clinging to him. He gave them a gentle squeeze and set them back down on the floor. “She sent me out here to talk to you. She knew how worried you would be.”

Shawn, Caroline, Austin and Lucas crowded around them. Kristen and Peter hovered on the edge of the loving family circle, unnoticed. “What is it?” Carrie asked, reaching for John’s hand and squeezing it.

“What’s wrong with Marlena?” John caressed Sami’s cheek with his free hand and regarded both of them with weary eyes. “I’m sorry, you two,” he informed them sadly. “Dr. Bader examined your mom. She says the shock from the car crash killed the baby.”

“Baby!” Caroline and Austin exclaimed in unison. She looked up at Shawn then back to John. “Marlena was pregnant?” He nodded, darting a significant glance toward Sami and Carrie. His message was very clear. No, we aren’t telling them about Stefano. “Yes. We just found out not long ago. We hadn’t decided how to tell everyone just yet.” Shawn pulled him into a rough, sympathetic hug. “I’m sorry, son.” John nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Pop. But we’re going to be okay.” He let go of Shawn. “They’re going to induce a miscarriage in a little while and I need to get back to Marlena. But she wanted you to know that she’s going to be all right and not to worry.” He gave them all a grateful smile. “Sami, Carrie, I’d appreciate it if you two would go home and check on the kids for me. And I’m sure you and Caroline need to get back to the Pub, Shawn.”

Carrie frowned up at him. “Are you sure?” He smiled reassuringly. “I’m sure, punkin’. And I’ll let you know when you can see Doc, all right?” They nodded and watched as he disappeared back down the hallway. Carrie and Sami hugged their grandparents and turned to leave with

Austin and an increasingly mobile Lucas. Shawn and Caroline shared a long, heartfelt embrace before making their way to the elevators. Kristen and Peter suddenly found themselves alone in the waiting room.

Peter gazed down the hallway to the doors behind which John had disappeared. “Yup,” he mused. “Looks like John’s going to dump Marlena any minute now, Krissy.” “Shut up,” she muttered darkly. “Just shut up.” He turned to her, his eyes gleaming with threat and malice. “You’d better hope Mother is all right, Kristen.” He looked down at his watch. “I have to finalize some arrangements I’ve made for this evening. Unfortunately, it’s too late for me to change my plans. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

Kristen watched him as he walked away, her eyes worried. “She’ll be all right, Peter. She has to be.” She hugged her arms to her stomach. “When she wakes up, I’ll convince her not to tell Marlena anything.
And then I’ll convince John to come back to me. It’ll work,” she told herself. “I know it will….It has to.”

***

“In here, Father Brant,” Mike said as he opened up the door to Rachel’s hospital room. “You only have a few minutes. We’ll be taking her into surgery soon.” Father Brant nodded his understanding and slipped into the chair next to the bed. His sympathetic gaze rested on the woman in obvious pain on the bed before him.

Rachel regarded him silently from under heavy eyelids. She was so incredibly tired, and the agony of her injuries threatened to overwhelm her. She was also battling an overwhelming feeling of despair that robbed her of any desire to survive the ordeal before her. I just want to sleep forever…but first I must do this one last thing. She took a deep breath. “I have…” she began in a low thready voice, “I have…something…to tell you…I need…your help, Father…”

Father Brant leaned forward and took her hand in his. “Tell me what you need, my child.”

Chapter 42

Father Brant leaned forward in an attempt to discern the words Rachel was trying so hard to utter. “I’m sorry, my child. I didn’t hear you. Did you say you wished to confess?” Rachel blinked and nodded slightly. “But not to you…” He frowned. “I don’t understand.”

She closed her eyes, pained. “I must confess to those I wronged.” Her voice hitched as she suppressed a gasp of pain. “Before it’s too late…” she added in a whisper. He nodded his understanding. “What do you need me to do?” Rachel was silent for a moment, but it was not a silence of indecision. I finally know what I have to do, she thought, a sense of relieved peace pervading her body. She turned her head slightly and looked the priest straight in the eye. Her voice was strong and steady. “Do you have a pen and paper?”

His brow furrowed, but he reached obligingly into his battered briefcase, pulling out a sheaf of paper and an old-fashioned fountain pen. “What do you want me to write?” She leaned back and took a deep breath. “Three letters,” she murmured. “One to my son, one to my daughter…” She exhaled tiredly, resigned. “And one to Johnny Black…”

***

Kristen paced the confines of the waiting room, her mind racing. She rubbed her upper arms nervously. Come on, Mother. You *have* to be all right. You *have to be! She stared down at the scuffed floor tiles and shook her head angrily. I never meant for you to be hurt. Why wouldn’t you listen to me? You should never have tried to interfere. John belongs to me and I have every right to do whatever it takes to insure that he comes back. Father would understand…why can’t you? She looked down the hallway to the door through which Peter had disappeared. Why can’t Peter? She shivered as she remembered the cold look on his face when he’d threatened her with dire consequences if Rachel did not recover. She shook her head. It doesn’t matter. Mother will be fine. She will!

She flopped down on the couch, her mind turning to John’s brief visit

to the waiting room a few minutes earlier. A small smile of satisfaction appeared on her face. I told you I wouldn’t let you have John’s baby, Marlena. I hope your pain is at least as bad as mine was. Abruptly she pushed herself up from the couch. It’s not enough to hope, though. I want to *see* it. She spared a glance down the hallway that led toward her mother’s room, before turning to stride down the one thatled to Marlena.

***

“How are you feeling, Doc?” John asked as he caressed her cheek with his hand. “Sleepy,” Marlena murmured, her voice low. “I think the drugs are starting to work.” He nodded and kissed her forehead. “I’m so sorry you have to go through this…” She looked up at him, tender emotion shining in her eyes. “I know you are, honey.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s going to be okay.” He squeezed her hand in return. “I know. I just wish there was something I could do for you, Doc.”

She smiled softly. “But you have, John. Do you know how much of a comfort it is to think of my baby in heaven with Sam and D.J. and your father? That image is making this entire ordeal so much easier to endure.” He leaned in to whisper in her ear. “And I believe it, Marlena. I believe your baby is happy and safe and in heaven. I believe it to the core of my soul.”

Marlena reached up to cup John’s face with her hand. “I do, too. And I think the name we picked for him is wonderful. Absolutely perfect…” Her voice trailed off and she regarded John intently for a moment, her fingers trailing up his cheek to tangle in his hair. “Mmm…” she murmured, her eyes glazed from the medication. “You feel so good, John.” “Yeah?” he chuckled. “Move over then.” She grinned lazily and closed her eyes, shifting onto her side. “C’mere, sailor.”

John eased his way into the bed, careful not to disturb her. He was concentrating so intently on the woman he loved that he didn’t hear the click of the door opening. As he laid down next to Marlena, Kristen’s face appeared in the widening crack. “So, what do you want me to make for dinner when you come home, Doc?” he asked softly,

slipping his arm around her waist. Marlena turned in his arms until she was facing him and laid her head on his chest. “Mmmmm…my lover the gourmet chef.” Kristen’s fists clenched against the door frame.

John chuckled. “Sami’s the gourmet in the family, obviously. But I could probably manage a little something special…long as it’s none of that fancy French stuff.” “Pancakes,” she murmured, giggling unsteadily. “Whipped cream…strawberries…” John’s hand slid down to rest on her hip. “Ooh, I love the way your mind works, Dr. Evans.” Her eyes closed and her voice slurred. “An’ I love *you*…” John watched her slip under the control of the medication. “I love you, too, Doc,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her softly on each eyelid. “More than I can ever possibly tell you. More than anything in the entire world…” He cradled her limp form to his chest, spooning his body around hers. Lost in a haze of love and tenderness, he didn’t notice as the door clicked shut behind him.

Out in the hallway Kristen sagged against the wall next to the door, the scene she’d just witnessed burning itself indelibly into her brain. She couldn’t help but compare Marlena’s situation to her own as she remembered waking up alone in a strange hospital bed, with no one to hold her, to comfort her, to offer to make her pancakes when she came home…to simply *be* there when she came home. Unconsciously her hand went to her belly. He should have been there for *me*! He should have been comforting *me*! Tears streamed down her face and blood rushed in her ears. It took long moments before the tapping of high heels against linoleum penetrated her anguished fog. She looked up to see Dr. Bader rounding the corner at the end of the hallway, her head down as she perused the chart in her hands. Straightening from the wall, Kristen turned and headed in the other direction on shaking legs.

Dr. Bader eased the door of her patient’s room open and smiled down at the slumbering couple on the bed. She gently cleared her throat. John slowly rolled over to face the door and met Dr. Bader’s gaze calmly. “She’s asleep. Is it time?”

Dr. Bader nodded. “It’s time.”

***

Peter paced back and forth in the waiting room as he scowled into his cellular phone. “No, I *don’t* like the idea of leaving before I know my mother’s condition, but it’s too late to postpone things now. If we wait, there’s a very real possibility that something will go wrong. This is my last chance to fix things with my wife. I can’t *afford* to wait.” He paused to listen for a moment. “Well,” he replied finally, “I’ll obviously have to set up some way to monitor her condition because I don’t trust my sister to take care of her properly. And then as soon as Mother’s well enough, I’ll have her moved to the island. Jennifer loves her, and that will make the transition easier for both of them.” He listened a bit longer and answered in the affirmative twice before finally hanging up. He turned to see Kristen enter the waiting room, an anguished expression on her face.

“Is it Mother?” Peter asked anxiously. Kristen looked up at him, distracted. “Is *what* Mother?” He clicked the phone closed. “You looked upset. I thought you had some bad news about Mother. Weren’t you checking on her?” Kristen bit her lip. “Umm, no, actually. I assume she’s on her way to surgery. Mike said there wasn’t time for us to see her, remember?” He nodded, his brow furrowing. “Then where were you?”

She ducked her head guiltily and mumbled, “I went to Marlena’s room.” He scowled. “And?” “And they’re getting ready to do the procedure,” she replied. “Marlena was just going under the anesthetic when I got there.” “What did John say?” Her fists clenched. “To me or to her? He didn’t even see me standing there, Peter. I could have been singing the Star-Spangled Banner stark naked and he wouldn’t even have looked up from her bed. I just listened to what they were saying before Marlena went to sleep, and I heard him offer to make her dinner when she got home.”

Peter raised a scornful brow. “And that’s why you looked like the world

was ending? Mother is having extremely risky surgery to repair injuries incurred in a car crash that *you* caused, and you’re upset because John’s going to make Marlena a sandwich? What the hell is wrong with you?!?”

Kristen glared at him. “It wasn’t *what* he said, but *how* he said it. He treats her like she’s the Queen of the Universe, Peter. How is that supposed to make me feel? And stop acting like I don’t care about Mother. I’m just as worried as you are.” She sneered, “In fact, I must be *more* worried than you are, since I don’t have any *plans* for this evening that don’t include waiting outside her hospital room. What’s so important that *you* won’t be here?”

His lips thinned angrily at her sarcastic tone. “Just because I can’t be here doesn’t mean that I don’t care about her. It’s just that tonight’s the night I get Jennifer back…as long as the timing is absolutely perfect. If I postpone things then Jack might be able to interfere, and I can’t allow that.” His voice took on a note of warning. “But don’t you worry, Krissy. I’ll be monitoring Mother’s condition very closely. *Very* closely.”

She frowned. “What do you mean ‘tonight’ you’ll get Jennifer back? When she saw you earlier, she didn’t seem like someone who wanted to reconcile. In fact, you should be glad looks can’t *actually* kill or you’d have died on the spot!” “She’s just angry because of all the lies she’s been told,” he retorted. “I know deep down she still loves me. She just needs time and space away from Jack and Laura so she can realize that.”

“And you’re going to do her the favor of providing both, is that it?” she replied condescendingly. “You know, you are a complete hypocrite, my dear brother…After all the crap you’ve been spewing about me getting over John and it being the right thing to give him up, you’re about to pull Stefano’s ‘If I lock them in a small room they’ll love me’ routine. Give me a break!”

Peter scowled at her. “It’s not the same thing,” he insisted. “Marlena never loved Stefano in the past and she never will. His conviction that

she’ll somehow grow to love him is absolutely ludicrous. On the other hand, Jen *did* fall in love with me, and she didn’t leave me because she stopped loving me, or because she decided she loved someone else more, the way John left *you*. She’s just angry because of what I did to her mother. But once she has a little time to think and once I *prove* to her that I’m a different man now, I know she’ll take me back. I *know* she will.”

Kristen rolled her eyes, still smarting from his observation about John. “Yeah, right, Peter. Whatever you say.” She looked up at him. “But you don’t need to worry about Mother. I’m planning on taking very good care of her.” He eyed her thoughtfully. “Uh-huh. And what if she still insists on telling Marlena everything? What will you do then?”

The insinuation underlying his tone caused her to reply in an affronted voice, “I would never purposely *hurt* her, if that’s what you’re implying. I’m not going to have to *do* anything, Peter. I can convince her not to say anything if I just have a little time alone with her.” She rubbed her hand over the pregnancy padding. “She’d do anything in the world for the sake of her grandchild.”

It was Peter’s turn to roll his eyes. “You’re not actually starting to believe that that lump of foam rubber is a *child*, are you? God, Krissy, maybe it’s time for you to get some psychiatric help or something.”

“I’ve had enough of psychiatrists, thank you very much,” she replied frostily. “And frankly, I think it’d be a toss-up for one of them to determine which of us is more delusional when it comes to the people we love. At least *I* understand exactly what things John would find completely unforgivable. I can’t believe you think Jen will just ‘get over’ you trying to drive her mother insane with poison paint! Have you *completely* lost touch with reality?”

“At least I can still tell the difference between a pillow and a baby!” he spat back. Kristen swallowed a scathing reply, sighed, and ran a weary hand through her hair. “Oh, for God’s sake, this isn’t getting us

anywhere.” She looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “We can’t turn on each other, Peter. We’re all we’ve got, now, and Mother will need us to be strong for her after she comes through the surgery.”

He looked away for a moment. “Fine,” he replied finally. “We won’t argue about this anymore after Mother gets out of the hospital. I’m going to need your help to get her to the island when she’s well enough, anyway. And then you can do whatever the hell you want to John and Marlena. I just don’t want to know about it.” He turned his gaze back to her. She flinched at the cold, implacable fury in his eyes. “But if she doesn’t survive the surgery, Krissy, then all bets are off. I *won’t* let you get away with killing her. And that’s a threat *and* a promise!” He turned and stalked down the hallway.

Kristen swallowed uneasily.

***

Father Brant folded the third sheet of paper, slipped it into an envelope, and wrote “Johnny Black” across the front in elegant flowing script. “Is this the last one?”

Rachel clenched her jaw and managed to turn her head to look at the priest, who was watching her with a concerned, perplexed expression on his face. “Yes,” she whispered softly. “Don’t worry, Father. *They* will understand what those letters mean. It isn’t necessary that you do as well.” She closed her eyes again, blessed relief making her limbs feel heavy. It’s finished, then. I’ve done what I had to. Now the madness will end. A stray nagging thought crossed her mind, and she frowned in concentration as she attempted to retrieve it. Oh, yes. “The key,” she murmured in a low, thready voice. “It goes in Johnny’s letter.”

Father Brant frowned. “What key?” What? “In my hand,” she muttered. He leaned forward and said softly, “There’s no key in your hand, Rachel. I’m holding your hand. Can’t you feel my fingers?” “But-” It was in my hand, I *know* it was. I remember the nurse trying to take it

from me… She frowned again at her jumbled memories. I remember Kristen holding my hand… Stabbing pain shafted through her stomach. No! She *can’t* have found it!

Father Brant searched the covers and the floor by the bed, the expression on his face one of guilt for causing her more distress. “I don’t see it, Rachel. I’m sorry.” His gaze swept around the room. “Maybe one of the nurses-” A glint of metal in the corner caught his eye. “Wait a minute.” He bent down to pick it up and held it in front of her. “Is this it?”

Rachel nodded infinitesimally. “Johnny’s letter,” she insisted weakly. He nodded and slipped the key into the envelope, then licked the flap to seal it. Encroaching blackness dimmed Rachel’s vision. “Very important,” she mumbled softly, her attention already shifting to the welcoming dark.

“I understand,” he replied, watching her descend into unconsciousness. He quickly performed an abbreviated last rites, all the while praying that her condition wasn’t as dire as he feared. In rest, the tension that riddled her waking form disappeared, and she looked years younger, despite the scars on her face. “God be with you, my child,” he murmured, his heart aching from a ritual he’d never become used to performing. “I shall find your children and this ‘Johnny Black’ and I will give them your messages.” He murmured one last, heartfelt prayer, then turned and left the room.

***

Kristen leaned against the large light blue pillar next to the sizeable potted tree and gazed out the window overlooking the balcony. Puffs of white cloud meandered lazily across the sky, as the day outside progressed in fine form, completely oblivious to the dramas unfolding within the hospital. Kristen had spoken to a nurse a few minutes before, and had been informed that her mother was in surgery. The nurse’s serious expression had finally brought home to Kristen just how precarious Rachel’s condition was. So she stared out the window of the waiting room, alternating between fervent pleas to God to save

her mother’s life, and more self-serving requests that her secrets remain untold. She didn’t hear the soft footfalls that signalled Sami’s return to the waiting room. The moments ticked by until the tread of larger feet broke into her reverie.

“Sami?” John asked. Kristen started uneasily, then wondered vaguely whether or not she should possibly reveal her whereabouts. “I couldn’t stay at home, John,” she heard Sami reply in a subdued voice. “Is it over yet?”

She heard a soft rustle of cloth but no verbal answer. Slowly she shifted until she was facing into the room, her view still partially obscured by the cascading leaves of her tree. She leaned a bit further into the pillar, hoping against hope that neither of them would look in her direction, and that if they did, her leafy camouflage would prove adequate.

“No,” John replied, rubbing his face with his hands. “It shouldn’t be very much longer, though.” Sami nodded. “How did Mom really take the news, John?” she asked hesitantly. He looked up at her. “I told you earlier.” She looked away guiltily. “I know you did. I was just wondering…oh, I don’t know.” She nervously cracked her knuckles. He exhaled slowly. “Wondering if she felt…*mixed*…emotions about losing the baby?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes. Because *I* do, and I have all along, and I feel horrible about it.” She paused for a moment, before confessing the rest of her thought on a long exhalation of breath. “But there’s a part of me – a pretty big part – that thinks maybe this baby never being born is the best thing that could have happened for the family.” John was silent for a moment. “I understand, Sami,” he replied finally. “You don’t need to feel guilty.”

Kristen frowned from behind her tree. What? She tells him a part of her is glad his baby is dead and he *understands*? God, I knew he was indulgent about her behavior because of the guilt he feels for hurting her, but this is ridiculous!

Sami looked up at John piercingly. “Do *you* have mixed feelings about it?” John averted his gaze. Kristen was riveted. *What* is going *on* here? “Yes,” he admitted finally. “Yes, I do.” He looked back at Sami. “But not because I think your mother having this baby would have hurt the family. Nothing on this earth could break us apart, Sami. And I would have loved that child just as much as I love you, Eric and Carrie, which is just as much as I love Belle and Brady. Nothing would ever have changed that.” Kristen frowned, confused.

Sami’s brow furrowed. “Then why?” John ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Because this baby linked Marlena to something that she wanted to forget so much that she gave up ten years of her life, Sami. It was so painful for her that it caused her to develop *amnesia* in order to escape from it. And anything that could cause that extreme kind of reaction in someone as strong as your mother…” He sighed. “I just didn’t want her to have to deal with any more pain. But she loved the baby, Sami, more than even *she* realized, and losing him was painful for her, too.”

Sami nodded and looked down at the floor. “I know. And I’m sorry about it.” She swung her leg back and forth, scuffing the tile. “So is she going to tell anybody else the whole truth?” What *truth*? Kristen thought impatiently. John shook his head. “Not right now. Maybe not ever.” He glanced over at her. “I know both of us have harped something fierce about honesty to you for quite a while now. But I have to believe you understand why this is different.”

“I do,” she replied quietly. “What about the funeral, though?” He sighed. “It’ll be tomorrow morning, probably. Dr. Bader told me as they were taking her into surgery that she would be able to attend a brief service in a wheelchair if she wanted to, before we take her home for complete bed rest for the next few days. I’m going to call the cemetery to make arrangements for him to be buried next to your big brother D.J. I think she’d like that.”

Sami offered him a misty smile. “I think you’re right. Did you…did you guys pick out a name yet?” He closed his eyes and nodded. “Aaron

Leo. Aaron from the Bible and Leo for my father, because we want the two of them to find happiness with each other in heaven. And because we regret never having the chance to really know either one of them.” He reached blindly for her hand, enveloping it within his fingers before opening his eyes to regard her intently. “And the last name on the headstone will be Black. Because that would have been his name, no matter who was his biological father.”

Sami nodded and leaned into his chest, wrapping her arms around him in a comforting hug and burying her face in his shoulder. He rested his chin on her head and closed his eyes again, relishing her warmth. Neither of them noticed as Kristen staggered the few feet toward the door on numbed legs.

She lurched through the doorway and sagged against the wall. No matter who was his biological father…so painful…amnesia in order to escape…No matter who was his biological father…I would have loved that child…No matter who was his biological father… Kristen’s mind whirled. Not his…The baby wasn’t *his*!…Oh, my *God*…Marlena was pregnant with *Stefano’s* baby! She jammed her knuckle into her mouth to keep from crying out. And I killed it…I killed Stefano’s baby…the greatest weapon I ever could have found, and I threw it away… She pushed violently away from the wall and ran blindly down the corridor, seeking a linen closet or empty lounge in which to privately wail her angry frustration. But underneath her bitter recognition of the opportunity she’d carelessly thrown away was another, more terrifying thought. What will Stefano do to me if he finds out?

***

Peter paced nervously outside the door that led into the surgery. The flow of people and equipment through the doors had increased, and the expressions on their faces had grown progressively grimmer. He glanced impatiently at his watch, well aware that his carefully crafted schedule was going to be blown all to hell if he didn’t get moving soon, but he was still somehow unable to tear himself away. A gentle hand on his arm caused him to start violently.

“Are you Peter Blake?” a quiet voice asked. He nodded shortly, never tearing his gaze from the OR doors. “I have a message for you from your mother.” His head whipped around, and he found himself looking down at a sober-faced man in black priest’s vestments. “What?” “Your mother asked me to give you a message,” the priest repeated. “I’m Father Brant.”

“Hello,” Peter replied distractedly. “The message?” Father Brant handed him an envelope, and he tore it open with shaking fingers, withdrawing a single sheet of paper.

My dear son,

I’m afraid I will be leaving you soon. The doctors haven’t said so, but I can feel it in my soul. I’m sorry I won’t have a chance to really come to know you, but a part of me is glad to see the sadness and regret end. There are so many things I wish I had done differently. Too many to count, really.

I don’t want you to feel the same way one day, my son. I know you are a good man, and I know you know the difference between what is right and what is wrong. Stefano tried, but he couldn’t take that knowledge from you. You could be so much stronger than him, son, if you would only want to be. It is my last hope for you that you *will* want to be. For when I look at you I see the man you could be someday, a wonderful, giving, honest man. The future I see for that man is full of love and happiness. I believe my dream could come true for you, if only you would try with all your heart and soul.

Your sister will not forgive me for what I’m about to do to her, I’m afraid. She’s not as strong as you are, Peter. Help her deal with her losses. Help her raise her child to be honest and true. Make sure the DiMera influence doesn’t taint another generation. And someday, make her see that what I’ve done I’ve done because I loved her, as I love you. Always.

Mother.

Peter looked up at Father Brant with tear-filled eyes. “She’s wrong,” he insisted, ignoring the coldly growing certainty inside his own heart. “She’s not going to die! She’s going to live!” Father Brant regarded him sympathetically. “I do hope so.” He glanced around the room. “Is your sister here? Your mother has a message for her, as well as one for a man named Johnny Black.” Peter’s gaze narrowed as he recalled the last paragraph of his mother’s missive. “They’re both here somewhere, but I don’t have any idea exactly where.”

The priest shifted uncomfortably on his feet. “I’m sorry,” he said finally. “I wish I could stay, but I’ve been called to Salem General to administer last rites, and I really must leave.” He pulled two letters from his pocket. “Would you please see that they receive these?” Peter stared down at the letters for a moment before finally reaching to accept them with his free hand. “Yes, I’ll take care of them. Thank you, Father.” He nodded. “I shall pray for your mother, my son.” He turned and left.

Peters fingers tightened on the envelopes as he debated with his conscience. He had a pretty clear idea of what was in John’s letter, at least, and a large part of him still considered it a betrayal of Kristen to ruin her chances to have the man she loved. Especially since all mother did was give *me* advice. He grimaced. I suppose she thinks that’s all she needed to do, a nagging voice muttered from the back of his mind. Since you’re such a good man and all.

Peter scowled. He’d always found that nagging voice damned annoying. I owe Kristen at least the chance to talk Mother out of this. If she can’t manage to do it, then that’s her tough luck. But I will give her the chance. Shrugging, he strode over toward the garbage can in the corner and stepped on the pedal that activated the lid. He held John’s letter above the opening, but just as he was about to drop it in, the doors of the OR opened. He whirled to find his mother’s primary surgeon coming toward him, a sad, regretful expression on her face, her faded scrubs covered in blood. Mother’s blood… Peter’s own

expression hardened and the lid of the garbage can clanged shut. He shoved both unopened letters into his coat pocket and turned his full attention on Dr. Lopez, his own letter still clutched in his left hand.

“I’m sorry,” she began, “We did our best but there was too much damage.” Her initial apology was the only thing he heard before the buzzing in his head drowned out the rest of her utterance. He stood before her and listened blankly, the words that careened through his head masking the doctor’s polite, compassionate phrases. You killed her, Kristen…You killed Mother…You *killed* her… He didn’t notice as his letter fell from numb fingers to the floor.

The doctor finished talking and Peter nodded in comprehension, though he actually had no idea what she’d said. He stood frozen in place for a few moments after she had gone, until a hand on his shoulder brought him out of his reverie.

“Are you all right, Mr. Blake?” Paulette asked. He turned to regard her with empty eyes. “I’m late,” he muttered in a hollow voice as he stared down at her bloody scrubs. “I have to go.” She nodded, sympathy shining in her eyes, before turning to leave him to his grief.

“Wait,” he called, reaching a hand into his pocket. “Would you do something for me, please? Would you see that John Black or Marlena Evans gets this letter? It’s extremely important.” Paulette raised her brows questioningly but accepted the letter, idly noting the name on the envelope. “Certainly. I’m sure he’ll be here today, since it was Dr. Evans’ first day back on the job. I’ll make sure one or the other of them receives it.” She cleared her throat. “I’m sorry about your mother, Mr. Blake…”

He nodded shortly, then turned and strode down the hall without another word. Paulette gazed after him, puzzled, before turning to catch the elevator as the doors pinged open. She looked down at the letter in her hand as the elevator descended, wondering what in the world was so important that Mr. Blake would have been thinking of it mere moments after being informed of the death of his mother.

She stepped out on the floor that housed the ER to find a madhouse of moaning patients, frenzied nurses, and doctors dashing back and forth at warp speed. “Bus accident,” gasped a tech as he raced by on his way to X-ray.

Paulette nodded professionally and began to strip off her bloody scrubs. She nabbed a candy striper trundling by with an empty med-supply cart and handed her the letter. “Fourth floor, in Dr. Evans’ message file,” she said crisply. “It’s important. Do it now.”

The candy striper nodded and rolled the cart into the elevator, sighing in relief as the doors slid shut. She’d taken this job because it would look good on her college resume and because she harbored no actual objections to helping the sick, but she hadn’t bargained on seeing sights like the tangles of smashed limbs and pools of blood that had resulted from the bus wreck. She looked down at the letter in her hand, deeply grateful to Nurse Sandene for an errand that had gotten her out of the ER.

When the doors opened she rolled the cart over to the desk and stood on tiptoe to crane her neck over the counter. The brace of file folders that held phone messages for the doctors peeked out from under the countertop. She ran her fingers over the end tabs until she came to the one with Dr. Marlena Evans written on it, and she shoved the letter between the folder’s edges. It tumbled toward the back of the file and came to rest between the manila sides, one corner tipped precariously against the back of the counter wall.

Satisfied, she turned to roll her cart toward the supply room to refresh

her stock, uncomfortably aware that her reprieve was over. As she
waved one of the nurses over to unlock the door, a stray thought
occurred to her. I wonder when Dr. Evans came back to work,
anyway…
Chapter 43
“Anyone want any more juice?” John asked, shaking the half-filled carton of orange liquid and raising an inquiring brow at the family members seated around the table.

Belle and Brady shook their heads. Sami gulped down a bite of toast and wiped Will’s messy face with a napkin. “No, thanks,” she replied, plucking her son from his highchair. “I think this young gentleman needs a bath.” She tossed them a grin over her shoulder as she pushed open the kitchen door. John sat down at the table and tipped the carton toward Marlena. “Doc?”

She looked up from the newspaper article that held her absorbed. “What? Oh, no, thanks,” she murmured distractedly, before returning her eyes to the paper. Brady plopped his spoon back down into his bowl, sending drops of leftover milk spattering across the table. “C’n I be excused, Daddy?” “Me, too?” Belle piped up. He nodded. “Put your dishes up and go find your shoes. Remember, fishing with Grandpa today. Chelsea is going to drive you over.” They grinned and nodded. John watched as they carefully conveyed their dishes to the counter next to the dishwasher. Brady clambered up on the low footstool to place them in the sink.

Marlena looked up from the paper as the children exited the kitchen. She quirked an eyebrow. “Chelsea, huh? On a first-name basis, are you now? What happened to ‘Mrs. Naughton’?” He grinned at her.
“Jealous?” Marlena stuck her tongue out at him. “Hardly, studmuffin. Have you seen her husband?” She managed a credible wolf-whistle. “She probably doesn’t even know you exist.” “Ha ha. Very funny.”

John waved a hand toward the newspaper. “What has you so fascinated, anyway?”

She held up the paper so he could see the mug shot of Jack Deveraux that covered half of the front page. “This.” She sighed and dropped it back down on the tabletop. “I can’t believe this, John. Jennifer and Laura must be so upset.” He nodded. “I talked to Abe. He said that Jack claims Peter was trying to kidnap Jennifer and Abby, and the shooting was an accident. But – and this is just between us, okay? – the evidence doesn’t look very good for Jack. For one thing, the idea that Peter would try to kidnap them and leave town the very night his mother died…”

Marlena bit her lip. “Yeah.” She tapped the picture with her cereal spoon. “I don’t know, John. I don’t know Jack very well, but from what we know Peter has done in the past, and taking into account that Stefano DiMera was his father, I find myself leaning toward Jack’s version of the story. But if the police don’t believe it, he could go to jail for a very long time.” “Maybe Mickey will get him off,” John offered, not sounding at all certain of it.

“Maybe,” she sighed. “So, what time do you have to leave?” John got up from the table and walked over to the refrigerator to put up the juice. “Leave for what? I’m staying home with you today…you’re supposed to have bed rest for two more days, remember? I’ve got plenty of stuff I can do from here. My Titan/Toscano liaison quit on me, and I have to go over resumes for a replacement.” He snapped his fingers, struck by an idea. “Hey, maybe you can give me a hand with that.” She twisted in her chair to look at him. “You know I’d be glad to give you any help you need. But the funerals are this afternoon, John. Aren’t you going?”

He stared blindly into the open refrigerator, his shoulders tense. “I wasn’t planning on it,” he finally said softly. Marlena studied his back for a moment. “Why not?” she asked in a low voice. He didn’t answer as he closed the refrigerator door. She tried again. “Don’t you think you should go, John? She doesn’t have anybody else.”

John bowed his head, his back still facing her. “She doesn’t have *me*,” he replied in a muffled voice. “And it seems cruel to pretend that she does, Doc.” “John,” Marlena began, then stopped and waited patiently until he finally turned to face her. “I don’t think she would interpret your coming to the funeral of her mother and brother as a decision to come back to her. I think she’d just be grateful for the support. And I would think you’d *want* to say goodbye to Rachel.” John closed his eyes, pained. “I do, but…

“But *what*, John?” He turned back to the table and collapsed into his chair. “I just feel so *guilty*,” he answered finally, staring down at his

clenched fists. “I took Stefano away from her, you know? She thought he walked on water until I came along and burst that little illusion. And then she lost Tony when he killed himself in order to frame me for murder because he hated me so much.” He sighed. “And now both Rachel and Peter are gone, too, on top of my leaving her.” He looked up at Marlena. “I have so much, and she has *nothing*. She doesn’t deserve this, Marlena.”

Marlena reached across the table to squeeze his hand. “What happened to Rachel and Peter wasn’t your fault, and neither was Tony killing himself. And it wouldn’t be doing Kristen any favors to let her believe Stefano was anything but evil.” She took a deep breath. “And frankly, my dear, it wouldn’t be doing her any favors to stay with her when you loved someone else more than her, either.”

He looked up at that. She offered him a tender smile, which finally brought a wan smile from him in return. “I know you’re right,” he whispered, bringing her hand up to kiss it gently. “And what is it we’ve been repeating to ourselves, anyway? ‘Life isn’t fair’, right? To anyone…” “No, it isn’t. The only thing that makes it easier to deal with is having your friends and family to help. And since Kristen doesn’t have any more family, it’s up to her friends to see her through this.” She squeezed his hand. “It’s up to you.”

John closed his eyes for a moment, then nodded, resigned. “All right.”

***

Kristen sat slumped in the front pew of the church, staring moodily back and forth between the two caskets on the raised dais next to the altar and the letter she held in her hand. She could barely make out the words through her tear-filled eyes, but she practically had the letter memorized, anyway.

My dearest daughter,

I promised you I’d never leave you, but unfortunately now I must break that promise. I’m sorry for this final failure…one last betrayal at the end

of a very long list. I regret that more than I can ever tell you, Kristen.

And I love you more than you’ll ever know.
My greatest wish for my children is that they lead happy, honest, productive lives full of love and laughter. Please believe me when I tell you that the paths you and Peter have chosen can lead only to heartache and misery. You cannot find happiness by deceiving others. Stefano’s life should teach you that if nothing else.
You face a time of great unhappiness and despair. I wish I could be there to help you through it. I’m so sorry that I won’t be. But remember, my darling daughter, remember that I love you more than anything in the world. And remember that you are stronger than you think.

Love,

Mother

Kristen squeezed her eyes shut, unmindful of the tears streaming down her cheeks. I’m *not* strong, Mother. I *need* you. I need Peter! How can you both leave me just when I need you the most?

“Miss Blake?” She looked up to find a priest standing next to her pew, regarding her with sympathetic eyes. “Yes?” “I’m Father Brant,” he said, as if expecting her to recognize the name. “I’ll be conducting the service for your mother and brother.”

Kristen nodded slowly, her brow furrowed. “Father Brant…” She sucked in a sharp breath of sudden comprehension. “You’re the priest who saw my mother before-” She clamped her mouth shut, frantically wondering what her mother had revealed to this man in her last moments. ‘She said she had something to confess,’ Mike told us. Oh, Mother, what did you do?

Father Brant sat down beside her on the pew. “Yes. She talked about you a great deal, my child.” He patted her arm gingerly. “She was very concerned about your future.”

“My…future?” He nodded as the piece of paper in her hand caught his eye. “Oh, good, you received her letter. I was worried when I found out

about…what happened to your brother.” Kristen compressed her lips. “Yes. The police found it in Peter’s jacket after…afterward. They gave it to me as soon as they determined that it had nothing to do with Jack murdering him.”

“I’m sorry about what happened to your brother, Miss Blake.” He squeezed her arm again. “I’m glad you received your letter, however. Your mother entrusted them to me, and I probably should have given you yours personally, but I was called away last night, so I gave it to your brother. I’m sorry…perhaps if I had been there…” She shook her head, hard, the letter crumpling in her hand. “There’s nothing you could have done, Father…for either one of them. But I’m sure Mother would have appreciated your conscientiousness.”

The priest cleared his throat. “Yes, well…is there anything special you

wish me to do for the service?” She shook her head again.
“No…nothing.” He nodded and stood up from the pew. “Very well.
We’ll begin in a few minutes…as soon as everyone arrives.”

Kristen sat back in the pew as the priest walked away. ‘As soon as

everyone arrives’…I wonder who in the world he believes will come.
She closed her eyes in pained memory as her mind traveled back to
the previous morning. Sometime during the long interminable night
while she had waited for news on her brother’s condition, she’d heard
someone mention that the funeral for Marlena’s baby would be early
that morning. So she’d gone to the cemetery, still reeling from the
shocking loss of both her brother and her mother. She’d arrived just in
time to hear Father Jansen intoning solemn prayers of deliverance for
the soul of the lost baby. Aaron Leo Black…Aaron *Black*… She
grimaced. I wonder how many people know what the child’s last name
should have really been? Sami and Carrie do, certainly… But they had

been only two of the mourners of a larger circle of family and friends –
among others, Shawn, Caroline, Abe, Lexie, Austin, Mickey,
Maggie…and of course, John and Marlena. Kristen’s eyes had burned
with angry tears as she’d watched the man she loved comfort another
woman. Marlena had maintained a stoic, sad, yet somehow serene
demeanor as she’d rested in her wheelchair in front of the small grave

that held her child. John’s hand had never left hers; his concerned gaze had never wavered from her pale face, despite the tears wetting his own cheeks. Kristen had found those tears infuriating, faced as she was with his indifference to their own child. He loved *Stefano’s* baby more than he loved ours!

The burning anger that those moments had awakened in the pit of her stomach surged again as she raised her eyes to gaze at the caskets that held the remains of her family. More people mourned the loss of her child – a child they never met nor even knew about – than will mourn the loss of my entire family.

A whisper of noise from the back of the church brought her out of her angry reverie. She twisted in her seat to face the entrance. Her mouth fell open in shock as she watched John make his way into the church.

***

“Are you all right, Mom?”

Marlena rolled over on the bed onto her elbows and looked up at Sami. “I’m fine, sweetie. Did you need something?” Sami shook her head but then sat down on the end of the bed. “I just thought you might want something to eat or a magazine or something.” Marlena waved a hand at the nightstand, upon which rested a stack of books and a bowl of fruit. “John laid in a stock before he left for the funeral.” She smiled. “So I want for nothing…” Her brow furrowed as she studied Sami’s face. “…except perhaps for a bit of company. Are *you* all right?”

Sami stretched out across the foot of the bed and propped her chin in her hand. “I guess…I suppose the funeral yesterday sort of…confused me.” Marlena cocked her head to one side. “How so?” Sami bit her lip. “Well, it changes things, doesn’t it? A person who was going to be here…be a part of the family…*isn’t* anymore. I seems like everything should feel differently now.” She glanced away from Marlena guiltily. “But…it doesn’t.”

Marlena swallowed. “Well, we had very little time to get used to the idea of having a new baby around.” “I guess…” Sami chewed a fingernail uncertainly. “I guess I was really wondering, well, do *you* feel differently now?…And does John?” Marlena narrowed her eyes speculatively, a certain tone in her daughter’s voice sounding faint alarm bells in her mind. “Are you worried that finding out about Aaron and then…losing…him has somehow changed all the plans we’ve made for the future?”

Sami inhaled sharply. “Has it?” she asked softly. Marlena regarded Sami silently for a moment before holding out a hand toward her. Sami reached for it and scooted up on the bed until she was lying next to her mother. Marlena trailed her fingers through her daughter’s silky hair and sighed. “I wish I had known that this was worrying you,” she murmured regretfully. “Sami, honey, nothing in the world could change how John and I feel about each other or how we feel about you children. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

Sami laid her cheek on Marlena’s shoulder. “So we’re still moving into the new house like we planned?” Marlena nodded. “Of course. Just as soon as it’s ready.” Sami was quiet for a moment. “What about you and John, though? Hasn’t all this made any difference in your relationship? You were pregnant with *Stefano’s* baby, Mom!”

Marlena looked down at her daughter, puzzled by her continuing concern. “John told me that he reassured you about all this. And I’ve told you repeatedly that we’re all right. Why don’t you believe us, honey?” Sami bit her lip uncertainly. “I guess…I guess because Daddy reacted so differently.” She looked up at her mother. “When Daddy found out that Belle wasn’t his, he rejected her…and you, and any chance we had to still be a family.”

Marlena shifted uncomfortably against her pillow. “The situations aren’t really similar, Sami. I betrayed your father – I made love to John willingly. He had every right to be angry at me for that. What happened with Stefano was completely different.” Sami ducked her head. “I know…It’s just, I’ve been wondering lately how Daddy would

have reacted to all this if he were here instead of John. And I guess I really can’t see him acting the way John has. Being willing to accept another man’s baby as his own, I mean.”

Marlena kissed the top of Sami’s head. “Well, John has had a lot of experience loving children that aren’t biologically his, hasn’t he?” She sighed. “I don’t think we can second-guess your father, Sami. I suppose he did what he needed to do all those years ago, even if we can’t understand his reasoning.” She looked down into her daughter’s eyes. “You do know that he loves you, don’t you? As much as John and I do. I may not remember the last four years, but I’d bet everything I own on thatfact. And on the fact that he’d want you to feel safe and loved and secure. I want you to quit worrying, sweetie. Everything is going to be fine.”

Sami hugged her mother silently for a moment, before finally nodding into her chest. “So you’re saying that you and John are really okay?” Marlena smiled down at her. “We’re really okay. Promise.” Sami nodded in satisfaction and laid her head back down on Marlena’s shoulder. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, finally broken by a murmured – then quickly stifled – inquiry from Sami. “So then-” Marlena raised her eyebrows. “‘So then’ what, sweetie?”

Sami rolled over and braced her chin on her hands. She quirked her lip impishly and gazed up at her mother with laughing blue eyes. “So then *when* are you two getting *married*?”

Marlena blinked.

***

John braced himself to face Kristen as he entered the church. As if warned by some sort of personal radar, she turned to look at him immediately as he came in the door. He pasted a sympathetic smile on his face and walked down the aisle toward her.

He came to a stop next to her pew. “Hello, Kristen.” He made an aborted awkward movement as if to pull her into his arms, but drew

back when she stiffened.

Her knuckles were white where her fingers gripped the arm of the pew. The urge to hurtle herself into his embrace was almost too painful to bear, but she knew that one moment of weakness would reveal her fake pregnancy, and then her hopes for the future would truly be lost. “John,” she managed through the lump in her throat as she wrapped her arms across her padded stomach.

The almost-invisible expression of relief in his eyes stoked Kristen’s anger once again. He hates to touch me *that* much. She closed her eyes, stark misery etched on her face. “I’m sorry about your mother and your brother,” John murmured softly as he sat down beside her on the pew. The inches between them might as well have been miles. “I’m going to miss Rachel a lot.” Kristen stared straight ahead at the caskets. “Uh-huh…”

John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I couldn’t believe it when I heard about Peter. And on the very same day… Kristen laughed bitterly. “Yeah, Jack has absolutely *no* manners at all, does he?” He bit his lip, wincing at her tone. “Um, I was going to call you, but everything got so crazy…Look, Kristen-” “What are you doing here, John?” she interrupted plaintively, unable to stop herself. “Why aren’t you with Marlena?”

He looked away guiltily and cleared his throat. “She, um, wanted to be here, but of course it was too soon. But she wanted me to give you her condolences.” Kristen’s jaw clenched. So much for ‘I’m here because I wanted to be with *you*, Kristen.’ “Tell her I appreciate it,” she managed to say in a strangled voice. “Sure.” He glanced back at the sound of the church doors opening. “Jen, Mike and Laura just came in. And Abe…would you excuse me for a moment? I need to talk to him.”

Kristen nodded and John rose from the pew with alacrity. He strode down the aisle as Jennifer, Mike and Laura stopped to offer Kristen their condolences. She could see the conflict and uncertainty in their

eyes when she mentioned what Jack had done. He’s a *murderer* for God’s sake! They each patted her hand awkwardly and moved away to the pew opposite.

Their sudden silence and the favorable acoustics of the sanctuary made Abe and John’s ongoing conversation audible from the back of the church. Kristen listened to them speak, her hands clasped tensely in her lap. “I didn’t think you would come today,” Abe commented. “How’s Marlena?”

“She seems much better,” John replied. “I tell you, Abe, I don’t think I’ve ever met a stronger woman; I mean, look at the way she got through the funeral yesterday.” He coughed uncomfortably. “She’s actually the reason I came here. I wasn’t going to, but she said I owed it to Kristen…and she’s right.” He glanced toward Kristen, who struggled to hide the hurt she felt upon hearing this. She kept her expression carefully blank, even as she strained to hear his next words. “But I have to say my coming doesn’t seem to have done much good.”

“I don’t suppose there’s much that would make her feel better today, John. But I’m sure she appreciates your concern.” “Mmm-hmm.” John glanced briefly down at his watch. “Any news on the car? Have they had a chance to give it a good once-over yet?” Kristen flinched and held her breath.

“Yes,” Abe replied. “Looks like the brake line snapped as a result of normal wear and tear.” Kristen sighed in relief. Abe’s brow furrowed. “Were you expecting something else?” John shook his head. “No. Not really. The only one who might be after Doc is Stefano, and he doesn’t want her dead, he wants her for himself.” He sighed. “No, I have to chalk this up to my own negligence, Abe. I should have had the car checked out.”

Abe clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. “I don’t think a routine servicing would have found anything wrong. Look, I know how much you like to take responsibility for absolutely everything that happens in

the world, John. But I think you’re just going to have to accept that this was a terrible accident – nothing more, nothing less.”

John closed his eyes, pained. “Yes, it was. Aaron and Rachel…God, Abe, what I wouldn’t give sometimes to be able to turn back time.” Abe nodded his agreement. “Wouldn’t we all, partner…Wouldn’t we all.” He cleared his throat. “Speaking of the past…when I got to work this morning, there was a message from Shane waiting for me.”

John frowned. “Shane Donovan? Was it about Roman? Did someone in the ISA finally get hold of him and tell him what happened to Doc?” Abe shook his head. “I don’t know, buddy. The message just said Shane would call back later today. I’ll keep you updated, don’t worry.” John nodded and glanced toward the front of the church. “Looks like we’re about ready to start. Guess I should get back to Kristen. I’ll talk to you later.”

Kristen turned back toward the caskets as John made his way down the aisle. He sat down beside her as Father Brant called the service to order. She reached out to grip his hand, seeking warmth and comfort.

His fingers were cold.

***

“If you need anything at all, just let me know, my child,” Father Brant offered a final time, giving Kristen’s arm one last sympathetic pat. Kristen nodded wordlessly and watched the priest disappear back into the church. She glanced around the courtyard, but the few people who’d attended the service were nowhere to be seen. Jennifer, Mike and Laura had left as soon as the priest had finished speaking. None of them had said so, but Kristen knew they’d left for Jack’s arraignment, to show their support for the man who’d killed Peter. “Hypocrites,” she muttered softly. She rubbed her arms, suddenly chilled. Abe had offered her a ride home, but she’d refused, intending to catch John on his way out.

Her brow furrowed. “Where’d he go?” He hadn’t gone past her toward

the parking lot; she’d been watching for him – which meant he was in the cemetery behind the church. She set off down the path around the side of the building and, moments later, came upon him hunkered down next to two small graves.

One had a small headstone on one end and a covering of undergrowth that indicated long occupancy. The other lacked a monument and was marked by a packed mound of fresh dirt. Kristen leaned against a large pillar and listened as John spoke.

“Hey, guys…” he whispered softly. “How are you doing?” He reached out to trace the engravings on the single small headstone. Kristen craned her neck around the pillar in an attempt to read it. Donald Jeremiah Craig, Jr. she managed to discern, but the dates below the name were too small to be legible. She frowned. Who?

“I know you’re taking good care of your brother, D.J. I’ll bet you two are having all kinds of fun.” His hand trailed down the edge of the stone to rest on the plot of freshly turned earth. “And how are you getting on, Aaron? Have you met your Grandpa and Isabella yet? Is your Aunt Sam there?” He pressed his fingers into the dirt. “Your mom and I miss you, buddy. We wish we’d had a chance to get to know you.”

He rolled back on his heels and contemplated both graves. “You guys would be real proud of your mom. She’s been so strong, even though she misses you terribly. She’s the best.” He smiled and ducked his head. “But you know that, don’t you?”

Kristen was biting the inside of her cheek so hard that she tasted

blood. I can’t *stand* hearing this! Mercifully, John’s celphone chose
that moment to ring. John shook his head as if to clear it and pulled
his celphone from his suit pocket. “Black, here…Abe? What is
it?…Well, what did Shane say?…No, it’s okay. I’m still at the cemetery,
but I’ll come right over. I just have to call Doc first…Right…yeah, see
you in a few.”

He stood up, still contemplating the scene before him. “I have to go now, guys, but I’ll come back soon. I’ll bring your mom with me.” He snapped the phone closed and buried his hands in his pockets. “We love you,” he whispered softly, before turning on his heel to make his way down the path toward the parking lot.

After he’d gone, Kristen emerged from her hiding place behind the pillar and moved to stare down at the small twin graves. She scuffed her foot in the dirt covering Aaron’s coffin and frowned down at the small monument. Donald Jeremiah Craig, Jr., huh? Aaron’s brother…on *Marlena’s* side, obviously…Does that mean there’s a Donald Jeremiah Craig, Sr.? Impatiently she flicked a leaf from her hair, her mind racing speculatively. The past…it’s always popping up to bite you in the ass, isn’t it? She wondered idly whether Shane’s phone call meant Roman Brady would be coming back to Salem. I wonder what that would do? A man from Marlena’s past returning…

She looked down at the grave again, a small, sinister smile blooming on her face. And so many of them to choose from…

She straightened her shoulders and turned down the path to exit the cemetery, not bothering to stop and bid farewell to the plots that contained the last remaining members of her family. The wind whistled through the headstones once she’d gone. Chapter 44

John inserted the key into the lock of the front door of the Brady house, but his fingers froze on the doorknob before turning it home. His hand fell away and he turned to watch Marlena. She stood on the porch, her back to him, staring out into the tree-lined street.

“Doc?” Marlena turned toward him and he saw the tears streaking down her cheeks. “Oh, Doc…” She turned away again. “I remember when we bought this house…” she murmured in a hollow voice. “When we brought the twins home for the first time…” She wrapped her arms around her stomach and hunched her shoulders protectively. She looked small and vulnerable in her tailored dark suit, which hung too large on her slight frame, a result of the weight loss of the past few weeks. “I can’t believe this is happening *again*…”

John reached out for her shoulder, but stayed his hand before he could touch her, his fist clenching helplessly. “I’m so sorry, honey.” Marlena bowed her head and stared down at the lawn. “I’m such a hypocrite,” she muttered softly. “Doc-”

She whirled to face him. “I *am*, John. Don’t you understand? Don’t you see? For *weeks* I’ve been praying that Roman wouldn’t come back! I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to deal with him, or my *betrayal* of him, or all the horrible memories I’m afraid will finally come back the moment I see him…” She briefly closed her eyes, pained. “But I *won’t* see him, will I? Ever again…” She stared up at John, her gaze haunted. “I got my wish, didn’t I?” she said, her mouth twisting bitterly. “I guess I should be grateful, huh?”

He reached her in two strides and gripped her shoulders convulsively. “Don’t! Don’t do this to yourself, Doc. This isn’t your fault.” He pulled her to his chest and hugged her tightly, burying his face in her hair. “None of it is your fault.”

Her hands clutched at his suit lapels. “It’s destroying them, John,” she

said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “Did you see their faces? Sami
was nearly hysterical, Shawn and Caroline looked *years* older, and
Carrie was utterly bereft.” She tilted her head back to look him in the
eye. “I should have been able to help them somehow, but I felt
so…disconnected from them, from their grief.” She took a deep breath.

“Roman…the Roman *they* were mourning…that Roman has been
gone from me for years. I mean, intellectually, I knew he was out there
somewhere, doing his best to save the world for the ISA. But I didn’t
have to think about it. I didn’t have to deal with it. I didn’t *want* to. It
wasn’t *real*…” She pushed away from him. “Until I came back here
today, and I looked at this house…the house that Roman and I chose
together.”

John sucked in his cheeks. “I think this felt a little unreal for everyone, Doc. Roman’s been gone a long time, and it’s not as if he was really in regular contact with anyone here in Salem. It’s hard to mourn the

death of a man you haven’t seen for years, because you’re so used to him not being there in the first place.” She turned her back to him again. “Because of me…”

He exhaled heavily in frustration and mentally began counting to ten. “Roman Brady was a grown man, Marlena.” Five…six…seven… “He made his own decisions, for his own reasons, regardless of the needs of those he left behind.” Nine…ten… “You cannot take responsibility for every damn thing that happened to the man!”

She looked back at him, her brows raised in surprise. “You sound angry.” “I *am* angry,” John replied. “I’m angry that you’re beating yourself up for something that is *not* your fault. And I’m angry that Roman was so damn stubborn that he couldn’t swallow just a little bit of that truckload of pride he carried around and come home before he got himself killed!” Marlena stared up at him, fascinated and disturbed.

His jaw clenched. “Don’t look at me like that, Doc. I’m not making excuses for what we did. I’m not saying that we didn’t hurt Roman a lot, that he didn’t have every right to feel betrayed. But you didn’t *leave* him, Doc. You chose him over me, you *ended* our affair, and when he found out everything, you *begged* him not to leave, not to divorce you. You would have done *anything* to save your marriage, but he made the decision to end it.” His face was flushed with anger. “And that’s fine and good – he had that right and I won’t say that he didn’t. But he did *not* have the right to bail out on his family for three years, and have the added bonus of everyone and their *dog* taking responsibility for it but the one person who *was* responsible – *him*! *He* left, *he* chose not to contact his family, and *he* took a dangerous -almost suicidal- assignment, which ultimately killed him.” John reached out to grasp Marlena’s chin with his fingers, his gaze boring into her. “*His* life…and *his* responsibility.” His voice softened. “And we will mourn his loss for the tragedy that it is…but we will *not* feel responsible for it.”

Marlena swallowed. “It sounds so reasonable when you say it like that,” she replied softly. John’s frown faded and a wry smile appeared

on his lips. “It does, doesn’t it? I’ve gotten to where I’m pretty good at convincing myself most of the time.” His grip slackened and he cupped her cheek in his palm. “Roman was a good guy, Marlena, and I’m not saying that he wasn’t. But he had faults, too, and one of them was an unwillingness to forgive that caused himself and a lot of others a great deal of unnecessary pain. And that’s really what led to us attending another funeral at St. Luke’s today. It is *not* your fault.”

She let go of his lapels and trailed her hands down the front of his suit coat until she reached his pockets. She fingered the white envelope that protruded from the left one. “Do you think he was telling the truth in the letters Major Dodd gave us, John? Do you think he *did* finally forgive us?”

John stared over her shoulder at the darkening sky, an overwhelming feeling of fatigue weighing on his shoulders. The day had been long, emotional, and draining, and despite his impassioned words to Marlena, he’d been experiencing his own fair share of guilt over the death of a man who, in some ways, had been closer to him than a brother. Stripped of all excuses, protestations, and ameliorating circumstances,there remained the fact that he had betrayed a man who had trusted him.

He closed his eyes. “I don’t know, Doc. I think he *wanted* to forgive us before he died. I think he wrote the letters to tell us that.” He shrugged. “That’s not to say he’d be giving us his blessing if he were here right now. I just think he didn’t want to…leave…with things still so unresolved between all of us. And, in the end, I believe he truly wanted you to be happy.”

Marlena’s index finger traced the edge of the envelope and she bit her lip thoughtfully. “It was very generous of him, wasn’t it?” John sighed and wrapped his arms around her. “I suppose it was.” They stood quietly in the waning light for a few moments, enjoying the comfort of each other’s embrace as the evening breeze wafted around them. Marlena rubbed her cheek against John’s shirt. “I wonder how the kids are doing over at Victor’s…” she murmured finally.

John inhaled the fresh scent of her hair and smiled. “I know he’s getting a real kick out of having them there. I’m sure they’re having a great time, Doc. Belle and Philip are very good friends and Brady loves being the oldest in any group of kids. He thinks it makes him the boss and orders everybody else around.” Marlena’s brow furrowed even as she smiled at the mental picture that phrase conjured. “I can see him doing that.” She pressed her lips together. “John?” “Hmmm?”

“Did you notice anything…*strange* about Kate at the church today?” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “You mean like the fact that she couldn’t take her eyes off of Sami? Or the way she used every conversational opening to speak about Carrie and Austin’s wedding, no matter how irrelevant it was to the actual topic under discussion?”

Marlena sighed. “Yes, that’s what I mean. You know, at first I thought Sami’s antipathy toward Kate was based mostly on sour grapes about how things turned out with Austin, and I thought Carrie’s discomfort had mostly to do with a desire to plan her own wedding without interference. But Kate’s obsession with their relationship *is* kind of disturbing.”

He nodded. “She seems a little *too* involved in the lives of her children, that’s for sure. I overheard her telling Billie that she should do everything possible to hang on to Bo, even if he says he still loves Hope. What kind of mother gives her kid advice like that?”

“The kind of mother who needs to get a life of her own, I guess.” She sighed again. “Frankly, I think Kate’s lucky that Sami consents to as much contact between Kate and Will as she does. If I were Sami, I’d be afraid of what she might say to influence him against his mother.” She rolled her eyes. “And I really feel sorry for Carrie, having to work under her day in and day out. I’m afraid that kind of in-law pressure could be murder on a young marriage.”

John’s lips quirked in an ironic smile. “Funny you should mention that, Doc, because I’ve been thinking about something along those lines.

Remember how we couldn’t quite find the right candidate for the position of Titan/Toscano liaison when we were looking through those resumes a few days ago?” She nodded. “Yes. So?” He grinned. “So…what would you think about my offering the position to Carrie?”

A slight frown marred her brow. “I’d think that you’d be overlooking many more qualified applicants. Not that I don’t think she’d do a great job,” she added hastily. “It’s just that she doesn’t have anywhere near as much experience as you’d expect of someone selected to hold such an important position.” He shrugged. “I know that. I’m not saying the idea doesn’t have a certain element of nepotism to it. But it’s not like she doesn’t have the right skills or the basic knowledge needed to do the job successfully. I know she’d do her absolute best if she came to work for me…And, frankly, she has something that none of the other candidates have weighing in her favor.” She reached up to touch his cheek. “What’s that?”

He looked down into her eyes. “She knew Isabella,” he finally replied softly. “Toscano was Isabella’s company, her legacy to pass on to her son.” He swallowed thickly and cleared his throat. “The liaison position mostly facilitates contact between the Corporation, the Charitable Foundation and Bella magazine, which Vic named for Isabella.” A pained look darkened his face and he shivered slightly. “I talked to the editor a few days ago – that’s one of the reasons I need to fill the position fairly quickly. He wants to do an issue commemorating the five-year anniversary of Isabella’s death and celebrating her life – you know, what she stood for, her values and her dreams. Carrie would be perfect for that…she really loved Izzy B.”

Marlena ran her palms down his upper arms as if to ward off the chill of obviously painful memories. “I think you’re exactly right,” she replied simply. “And I think she’d be thrilled at the opportunity. Why don’t you meet with her tomorrow and ask her?” The storm clouds slowly receded from John’s face and he smiled down at Marlena. “I think I will.” He turned to regard the front door. “You ready to go in?”

She took a deep breath and nodded, reaching out to turn the key. The

door swung open, revealing a shadowed, seemingly deserted living room. They entered slowly, hands clasped, fingers intertwined. A movement over by the couch startled them as Sami swung her head around, her expression lost in the shadows of the waning evening light and the inadequate illumination of one table lamp. “You’re here,” she murmured in a toneless, hopeless voice.

Marlena and John exchanged concerned glances before turning as one toward the couch.

***

“A sad day,” Vivian murmured, her tone conveying all the emotional concern of a TV anchorman delivering the evening weather report. Ivan watched impassively from his position by her side. Kristen tossed her a derisive glance before turning back to contemplate the fourth freshly-dug grave to appear in the cemetery in as many weeks. So much for Roman… “Yeah, Vivian, you seem really broken up about it.”

Vivian considered protesting her sincerity but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. “Well, Roman wasn’t *my* friend. I barely knew the man. But he was important to my nephew, so I came to offer my condolences for his sake.” Out of the corner of her eye she watched to see what effect the mention of John would have on Kristen. A barely perceptible wince confirmed her suspicions. “Not quite over John yet, I see.” “What do you care?” Kristen muttered, wishing in vain that she were alone so she could adjust her uncomfortable pregnancy padding.

Vivian’s gaze narrowed at the younger woman’s disrespectful tone. A bit full of yourself, aren’t you? She exchanged an annoyed glance with Ivan. If only I didn’t need the little witch to help me hold on to Victor. She pasted a sympathetic expression on her face and gave Kristen’s arm a companionable pat. “Well, you are carrying my great-niece or nephew, aren’t you? Of course I’m concerned. Family is the most important thing in the world to me.”

“Uh-huh,” Kristen murmured dubiously. “So tell me, Vivian, when were Brady and Belle born?” She raised her eyebrows at Vivian’s blank

expression. “Okay, not the date – just the month.” Silence. “You don’t even know the year, do you, Vivian? Don’t pretend you give a damn about John *or* his children. What do you really want from me?”

Vivian sighed. Time for a new tack…let’s try the direct approach. “I want you to vote to keep me on the Titan Board.” Kristen uttered a short bark of laughter. “And why would I want to do that?” “*Because*, Kristen, it would be the best thing for the company, that’s why! Kate will ruin Victor’s entire business empire if she’s allowed to run it single-handedly. The woman is an idiot!”

Kristen’s lip twisted. “Funny…she says much the same thing about you, Vivian.” She turned her gaze back toward the fresh grave. “You can forget it, Viv. I won’t vote against John, and I know he’ll vote for Kate, since I’m sure he believes that’s what Victor would want.” “And Marlena?” Vivian asked in a taunting tone.

“What *about* Marlena?” Kristen snapped, tugging discreetly at her bulging padding. “Well, I assume she’ll cast her vote to support Kate as well, since she would no more go against the man she loves than you would. How very convenient…” Kristen bit back an angry retort.

“Marlena hasn’t voted in a Titan Board meeting in years – John’s had her proxy for so long, she probably forgot she was even *on* the board.” She flung her hair back contemptuously. “I don’t know what the hell Victor was thinking when he offered her the position, anyway. She doesn’t own any shares of Titan.”

Vivian exchanged a satisfied glance with Ivan. “Well, *I* know what he was thinking. He was performing the corporate version of Cupid, Kristen. He wanted John and Marlena together, and he created her position on the board and her job as columnist for Bella in hopes of accomplishing that. And I guess he did a better job of it than anyone ever knew at the time,” she smirked, “judging from the very *existence* of my great-niece.”

Kristen scowled. “Yeah, aiding and abetting the commission of adultery. That’s *really* admirable, Vivian. Victor should be *so*

proud.” She snuck her hand underneath the pregnancy pad, worried by the sudden play of the right shoulder-strap.

Vivian shrugged, unperturbed. “They hardly needed aiding or abetting, my dear. I myself watched John bid an utterly obscene amount of money for just one dance with his precious Marlena – with nary a word of encouragement from Victor. It seems quite obvious to me that he never really got over her in the first place.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “When you think of it that way, it makes Victor’s meddling that much more puzzling, because of what it implies about John’s level of commitment to Isabella. But then, he *did* love the poor girl, I’m sure. She was such a wonderful, loving, *honest* child…” She flicked her fingers dismissively. “Ah, well, all that is water under the bridge, anyway. It scarcely matters now that both Isabella and Roman Brady are *really* out of the picture.”

Kristen stared down at the grave. “Maybe…maybe he is, and maybe he isn’t…” She gnawed on her lip thoughtfully. Vivian rolled her eyes at Ivan. “My *point* is, the editor of Bella is going to ask Marlena to resume authorship of her advice column now that the publicity of the possession has faded somewhat. And I’m quite sure that renewed connection to Titan Industries will compel Marlena to exercise her voting rights. Do you *really* want to be on the same side as she is?”

Kristen shot Vivian a sardonic glance. “Ooh, very clever use of reverse psychology, Vivian. Did you learn that from your stay with Laura in the looney bin?” “Look,” Vivian snapped impatiently, “I need your help, and I’m prepared to do whatever it takes to get it. Name your price.” Kristen regarded her with narrowed eyes, her lips pursed thoughtfully. “I want John back,” she said finally.

Vivian rolled her eyes again. “Oh, sure. Roman Brady, Stefano DiMera and the *Devil* all fail to make even a minor dent in the love between John and Marlena, and you want me to break them up for good. Don’t you get it yet, Kristen? There is *nothing* you can do. The powers that be who decide these things have added one more inevitability to the list – death, taxes, and the love between John and Marlena. Give it up

already.”

A muscle in Kristen’s cheek twitched angrily. “I refuse to accept that. I *will* get John back. And if you want my help with the Board at Titan, you’d better help me.” Vivian threw up her hands. “Forget it, just forget it. I have a better chance of convincing them to *vote* for me than I do of breaking them up. And you have a better chance of sprouting wings and flying.”

“Shut up,” Kristen spat. “You will *never* convince them to go against Kate. *You* have a better chance of living happily ever after with Victor, and, in case you’re wondering how big of a chance *that* is, it’s a snowball’s chance in hell!” Her expression was venomous. “*I* am the only chance you have of staying on the Titan Board and anywhere near Victor Kiriakis, and the *only* thing that matters to me is getting John back for me and my baby. When you’re ready to accept reality and make a deal, give me a call.” She whirled on her heel to stalk away.

“Why, you little-” Vivian began, incensed at the unmitigated gall of the younger woman, but a shocking sight caused her to swallow whatever it was she was about to say and instead blurt, “What in the *world*?”
Kristen’s dramatic exit had been made without proper attention to the difficulties she’d been having with her pregnancy padding. Her high-dudgeon retreat had proven too much for the beleaguered right shoulder-strap, which had never been meant for continuous use, anyway. It gave way, and the sudden shift in weight caused Kristen to lurch drunkenly to the side. She struggled with the recalcitrant foam-rubber lump and managed to wrestle it back into place, only to look up to find a deliciously wicked smile emerging on Vivian’s face.

Vivian arched an aristocratic eyebrow and tossed an amused glance toward Ivan. “What was that you were saying about reality, my dear? You know, Ivan, I do believe we’ve found our ally.” Her expression hardened as she looked back at Kristen. “Haven’t we, Kristen?”

***

Sami was curled up in a ball on the far end of the sofa. “Sami?” Marlena essayed cautiously. Her daughter didn’t reply, so she sat down gingerly on the cushion furthest away from her. “How are you feeling, honey? Sami made a sound somewhere between a bitter laugh and a sob. “How do you think? My father is *dead*.” The accusing tone that John hadn’t heard from Sami in months had returned, and he flinched upon hearing it. He looked over at Marlena, expecting to see the stricken expression she habitually wore when faced with her daughter’s righteous hostility, but she merely frowned concernedly and reached for Sami’s arm. Sami pulled away and turned her back to them.

Marlena stared at her daughter’s hunched shoulders for a moment. Finally she said, “It’s okay to be angry at Daddy, Sami.” John’s brows flew up in surprise as Sami visibly shuddered. “I’m not angry at Daddy,” she retorted in a choked voice. “I’m angry at you and John. It’s *your* fault he left us, and it’s *your* fault he’s dead.” Marlena flicked a glance toward John, acknowledging the similarities between Sami’s beliefs and her own train of thought on the porch earlier. “It isn’t our fault,” she replied quietly but with conviction. “It isn’t yours, either.”

Sami turned halfway toward them, until her face was visible in profile. Her eyes were red-rimmed and her cheeks damp with tears. She swiped at them angrily. “I *know* it isn’t *my* fault!” Marlena reached for her arm again. This time Sami didn’t pull away. “Do you, honey?” Sami’s face crumpled and she rocked back and forth in misery. “I know it isn’t my fault he *left*,” she whispered forlornly. “But…”

“But what?” She looked up at her mother with haunted eyes. “But what if it’s my fault he didn’t come back? What if he just couldn’t bear to see the kind of person I became, and that’s why he never came home.”
“Oh, *no*, Sami,” Marlena objected vehemently, pulling her daughter into a tight embrace. “Daddy loved you, always and forever. Nothing you ever said or did could *ever* change that!”

Sami tore away from her mother’s arms and retreated to the corner of the couch. “Then *why* didn’t he write *me* a letter? He wrote you,

and Carrie, and *John* even, and he didn’t write to me. He didn’t even want to tell me goodbye!”

John exchanged a look with Marlena and hesitantly sat down on the couch next to Sami. “I don’t think that’s true, Sami.” He laid a tentative hand on her arm. “I think Roman wrote to us because there were so many unresolved feelings among all of us. The last words between he and I were words of anger…he wanted me to know he wasn’t angry anymore.” She stared up at him, her blue eyes brimming with tears. He smiled softly and touched her cheek. “And he wanted your mom to know that he loved her, in spite of the way things ended between them.” She nodded slowly. “And he wrote Carrie to ask her to take care of you, because he knew how much losing him would hurt you, and he wanted to make sure you’d be all right.” His voice softened. “You were always in his thoughts, Sami. He loved you more than anything in the world. You have to believe that.”

A tear escaped to roll slowly down her cheek. “Then why didn’t he come back to me, John? Why didn’t he ever even visit so he could meet his grandson? I *know* how it feels to have a child, and I know that nothing on this earth – no amount of pain or pride or embarrassment – could ever keep me away from Will. Daddy spent most of our lives away from us. How could he leave us *again*?”

John shot Marlena a helpless glance. “Well, he was really *hurt*, Sami…” She inhaled deeply, her breath hitching as she fought back a sob. “Stop it, John,” she commanded in a cold, clear voice he’d never heard from her before. “Stop trying to make what Daddy did understandable…stop trying to make it anything but what it was – selfish and unfair.” She looked up at him. “*You* never left, not *once* in all the years that I treated you like you were Charles Manson and Ted Bundy all rolled into one. You raised me and loved me for seven years and I treated you like garbage, but you never gave up on me. I remember after Carrie and Austin’s wedding, when I was in the hospital so the doctors could monitor my pregnancy, and *you* were the one who waited all night with Mom. *You* were the one who was there the very first time we saw Will on the ultrasound. *You* were the

one who saved Mom from the devil and *you* were the one who offered that huge reward for information about me after I ran away. Everything that a father’s supposed to do, *you* did. Because *he* wasn’t *here*! So why are you defending him?”

John swallowed uncomfortably. “Because in spite of his faults – and he *did* have them, no question – your father was a very good man, and he meant a great deal to me in a way that it’s difficult for other people to understand. So much about us was the same…we loved the same people, like your Grandma and Grandpa, and Kim, Kay and Bo…and you, and Eric, and Carrie…” He glanced at Marlena. “And Doc…” He looked back down into Sami’s anguished blue eyes. “I *am* Roman Brady in so many ways, and I understand why he did the things he did.” He gently rubbed away her tears with his thumb and smiled softly. “Even if I didn’t agree with them…Even if I wouldn’t have done the same thing if I had still *been* him.”

Sami drew in a deep, shuddering breath as her shoulders slumped. Hesitantly he moved to take her in his arms. She seized his neck in a fierce embrace and held on so tightly he had trouble breathing, but it didn’t really matter. His little girl wanted to be in his arms again. “Don’t ever do it, okay?” she implored, her words muffled by his shirt. “Don’t ever leave me.”

He turned to meet Marlena’s gaze. She offered him a teary smile as he kissed the top of Sami’s head. “Never. I’ll never leave you, honey. I promise you that.” I promise both of you that. Chapter 45

“Part-time, they said. Volunteer, they said. A few hours a week, they said,” the candy-striper muttered as she trudged down the hall, the magazine cart preceding her on squeaky wheels. “It’ll look good on your college resume,” she added in a snide voice. “Yeah, right. You forgot to mention the blood and the vomit and the ugly uniforms and the old men who can’t keep their damn fingers to themselves…not to mention the shortage of young, cute doctors.” She looked up just in time to avoid wheeling her cart into Dr. Mike Horton. He murmured an apology, never looking up from his chart, and the candy-striper sighed.

Speak of the devil… She’d harbored a few impure thoughts about the handsome, blonde-haired doctor, before a couple of days of close observation had revealed his affections already quite firmly engaged, even if the object of them remained oblivious.

She sighed again as she rolled the cart up to the nurses desk. “Hi, Millie. Did my Mom call? I’m waiting for some news on my grandfather.”

Millie eyed her sympathetically. “I don’t know, hon. I’ve been out on the floor, but let’s take a look in the message file.”

The candy-striper stood on tiptoe to peer over the counter. She frowned at the empty volunteers folder, before another name caught her eye. She stared at Dr. Evans’ thick file. “Dr. Evans hasn’t picked up her messages yet? But Nurse Sandene gave me an urgent one for her days ago. She said it was really important.”

Millie’s expression was guarded. “Well, Dr. Evans had a family emergency that kept her away from work for a little while. But I know she’s coming in today. I’m sure she’ll pick them up then.”

The candy-striper nodded and looked back down at her cart of magazines. “Okay.” She sighed heavily. “Back to the grindstone,” she muttered as she rolled the cart away.

Millie watched her leave, her expression one of sympathy, knowing the slump in the girl’s shoulders signalled deep worry about her grandfather.

“Millie?”

Millie turned, startled by the new arrival. “Dr. Evans! Oh, it’s so wonderful to see you! I was just talking about you.”

Marlena raised her eyebrows and straightened the collar of her suit.

“Really?” She grinned as she glanced around the otherwise unpopulated nurses station. “To whom?”

Millie laughed. “Oh, to one of the candy-stripers. She said she’d left a note in your file a couple of days ago, and she wondered why you hadn’t picked up your messages yet.”

Marlena’s smile faded as she remembered the reason for her late return to work. “Oh…well, I’m here now, so I guess I’ll take them.”

Millie tugged on the folder wedged between two prongs of the metal

file divider. When she finally pulled it free, a slight noise caused her to
frown. “Did you hear something?”
“Um, no. Why?”

Millie peered uncertainly into the small gap between the files of Dr. Ellison and Dr. Farnaz. “I thought I heard a clunk.”

Marlena shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything, sorry. But messages don’t usually clunk, do they?”

Millie smiled. “Now that you mention it, I don’t believe they do. Here you go, it looks like…a couple of dozen phone messages, a bunch of staff memos, and two journals.”

Marlena received the stack with a grateful smile. “That’s all? I was under the impression that I hadn’t been here for months before I was shot. Surely there should be more than this.”

“Well, yes, but Dr. Laura Horton has been handling most of your caseload, and she kept the file updated until you escaped from Mr. DiMera. This is what’s left – everything she thought you’d need to see to yourself.”

Marlena nodded her understanding. “I’ll have to thank her…I’ll have to thank a lot of people, actually.” She grimaced. “But right now I have to get ready for my meeting with the Chief of Staff.”

“Oh. Dr. Reilly.” The nurse managed to infuse a wealth of meaning into three small words, despite her noncommittal expression.

Marlena shot her a knowing look. “Exactly. Thanks, Millie.”

“Sure.” Millie watched her disappear down the hallway before turning back to the metal message file, a perplexed frown on her face. “I know I heard something…” she muttered under her breath as she inserted her hand in the gap between the files. The space wasn’t wide enough for her whole hand to fit, but her fingers felt nothing amiss in the area she could reach.

She was interrupted in her quest by the sound of the call-beeper from Room 316. She rolled her eyes. “Mr. Marsden again. Why can’t the man understand that no matter how often he asks, he can’t have martinis in his water pitcher?” Sighing, she abandoned her search to go check on her patient.

Behind the file, wedged tightly in the half-inch or so of space between the metal file holder and the wall, Rachel’s letter to John rested, the key inside twisting underneath the metal edge, insuring it would not be easily dislodged.

***

John held out his arms toward the four walls and spun around the office until he was facing Carrie. “So, what do you think of your new digs, punkin?”

She grinned at him as she took in the luxurious appointments of her new office. The room was dominated by a large oak desk, which was situated in front of beveled-glass French doors leading to a wide terrace that overlooked the cityscape. Carrie pursed her lips in a soundless whistle as she took in the view. “You didn’t have to do all this, John…and that’s Madame-Director-in-charge-of-Titan/Toscano-Relations-Punkin to you, sir.”

He grinned. “Yes, Ma’am. So sorry, Ma’am. It will never happen again, Ma’am.”

She offered him a mock-frown. “That’s much better.” The frown melted into a dazzling smile as she crossed the room to give him a heartfelt hug. “Thank you so much for this opportunity, John. It means so much to me that you would trust me with this. I won’t let you down, I promise.”

He squeezed her tightly. “I know you won’t, punkin. There’s not a doubt in my mind that you’re absolutely perfect for this job.”

“Thanks,” she replied gratefully, before grimacing slightly. “You have no idea how nice it is to have a boss that’s so supportive.”

John sat down in the chair facing the desk, and gestured to the throne-like leather seat behind it with an upraised eyebrow and a mischievous twinkle in his eye. She sat down in the chair with all the aplomb of royalty and they both grinned. Then his grin faded. “Kate didn’t receive the news well, I take it?”

Carrie plunked her elbows down on the desk blotter and propped her chin in her hands. “*That’s* a bit of an understatement.” She sighed. “When I went to see her to give her my two-week notice, I told her that I had received a great opportunity that was the chance of a lifetime, and she acted like I was committing treason or something. She kept going on and on about disloyalty – to her, to the company, to *Austin*…and she’s not even the one who gave me the job in the first place! *I* was a part of Countess Wilhelmina a long time before *she* ever was, and she has no right to act like I can’t leave if I want to.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “Hey, hey, I agree with you, okay? I think you’re exactly right. But I did have a sneaking suspicion that Kate wouldn’t take the news very well. Marlena and I have noticed that your relationship with Austin…well, that it’s very important to her. Maybe a bit *too* important…”

Carrie made a face. “That’s one way of putting it, I guess. The funny thing is, in the long run, this could be the best thing in the world for my relationship with him – not to mention my relationship with my future mother-in-law. I tell you, John, lately she’s been driving me absolutely nuts!”

He nodded. “So you didn’t tell her exactly what the ‘great opportunity’ was that you’re leaving Countess Wilhelmina for?”

She shook her head. “No. I was *going* to, but she made me so *mad*, John. And then she said I could *forget* about getting a good reference from her, as irresponsibly as I was behaving by deserting the company. I just told her I didn’t need her stupid reference and walked out. She’s been leaving apologetic messages for me all week, but I’ve managed to avoid talking to her. I know she just wants to grill me in hopes of sabotaging this somehow.”

He reached out to trace the polished edge of the desk. “What about Austin? What did you tell him?”

She exhaled and leaned back in her chair. “Well, I asked him if he could manage to keep a secret from his mother, and he said ‘Probably not’, so I told him he’d find out the details along with everyone else when I start my new job in another week. He *did* say he supports me and that he was sure I would never make the wrong decision.”

He leaned forward. “You say that like you don’t believe he means it.”

She sighed. “I guess I can’t get over the feeling that he somehow sees it as a betrayal, too. I can understand that he’s upset that we’ll no longer be working together, but, frankly, I can’t see why we should spend twenty-four hours a day in each other’s pockets. What in the world would we talk about at the end of the day? And I’ll admit that I’m a little hurt that he couldn’t be happy for me, or at least happy that *I’m* happy about it. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask of the guy who’s supposed to love me.”

John lowered his eyes. “I’m sorry, punkin. The last thing I wanted to do

was cause more problems between you and Austin.”

Carrie slammed her open palm on the desktop, causing him to jump in his seat. “Don’t you dare apologize for offering me one of the greatest opportunities of my life! It doesn’t matter what Kate and Austin think – what matters is what *I* think. And I happen to be thrilled!”

He nodded gamely. “Okay. So…do you have time to grab some lunch up at the Grill before sneaking back downstairs?” He grinned. “I suppose you still have to be careful if you’re going to wait before springing the news on Kate.”

Carrie collapsed down on the desktop in mock-exhaustion and peered up at him, eyes sparkling from underneath tousled hair. “Just one more week…” she groaned theatrically before pushing herself upright again. “Thanks for the offer, John, but I’ll have to take a raincheck. I already have a lunch date. Someone invited me out to celebrate my *fabulous* new job.”

John raised a brow. “So you *did* tell someone about it?”

“Mmm-hmm. I had to, John. I was about to explode with the news…so I told Mike. But he’ll keep it a secret as long as I want, no questions asked. He’s a great guy.”

He regarded her speculatively as she organized her purse, noting with interest the heightened color in her cheeks. “Well, I’m glad you have someone to confide in. Have a good time, sweetheart.”

She flashed him another grin, stood up from her chair and offered him a kiss on the cheek as she breezed toward the door. “I will. Later, *Boss*.”

“Later.”

***

“Dr. Evans.”

Marlena looked up from her desk in surprise at the man who’d poked his head through her open door. “Dr. Reilly! What are you doing here? I thought we were meeting in your office in half an hour.”

The other doctor still wore his perpetual scowl, but his usual belligerence had been replaced by a perceptible air of defeat, slightly tinged with sullen anger. “Well, I don’t really think that’s necessary, do you, Doctor? I got your message loud and clear, and as unprofessional as I think your behavior is, I must concede defeat.”

She frowned in confusion. “What? What are you talking about?”

He rolled his eyes. “You don’t need to bother with the innocent routine. I’m not going to tell anyone how far you were willing to go to subvert hospital procedure.” His expression hardened. “Of course, in return, I’ll expect discretion from you as well. I don’t need my authority undermined anymore than it already has been.”

She stared at him for a moment. “I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said finally, gesturing toward a chair. “Would you like to sit down and enlighten me?”

Dr. Reilly eyed the chair with distaste. “No, frankly, I wouldn’t.” He offered a martyred sigh, very much put upon. “Look, Dr. Evans, I have been duly informed by the Board of Directors at this hospital that you are untouchable as far as disciplinary matters are concerned. Prolonged, unexcused absenteeism, unprofessional dress and demeanor, and gross insubordination are all activities in which you may continue to feel free to indulge. I will not bother you again with my *excessive* and *unreasonable* demands that you bother to show up at work, dressed in a vaguely professional manner to treat patients in accordance with hospital regulations. In return, I expect to keep my job and some semblance, however illusory, of the authority supposedly granted by my position as your boss. I really don’t think that’s too much to ask, do you?” he drawled in a voice thick with sarcasm. “So, do we have a deal?”

Marlena frowned. “Am I to understand that you had a meeting with the Board of Directors about me? Why wasn’t I informed of this?”

His lip curled. “Why weren’t you *informed*? Look, this supposed innocent oblivion won’t fly, okay? I *know* that you must have complained to *someone* about me – otherwise, the Board wouldn’t be involved in this at all. I certainly don’t discuss my petty personnel problems with board members, so the impetus could only have come from you.”

“I haven’t spoken to any board members,” she replied, exasperated. “I don’t even know who they *are* anymore, except for Mickey Horton and Victor Kiriakis. I haven’t said a word to Mickey about you, and Victor is catatonic. And anyway, why would I speak to them about something like this? The problems between the two of us are just that – between us.”

He regarded her condescendingly. “That *is* what I had assumed, before I was called on the carpet a few days ago, taken to task for my *horrible* treatment of you, and ordered, in no uncertain terms, to leave you strictly alone. So here I am, to offer my surrender and beg Your Highness’ indulgence. Have pity on a poor friendless working stiff like me, would you? Allow me to do what’s left of my job in peace, and *you* can do whatever you want. I guess if the Board doesn’t have a problem with it, why should I?”

She pursed her lips, confused. “I don’t understand.”

He turned back toward the door. “Well, I do,” he replied over his shoulder. “You won. Congratulations. Guess I’ll see you around.” The door clicked shut behind him.

Marlena collapsed down onto her chair, her mind racing. What the hell is going on? She stared at the single-spaced typed page on her desk, which contained Sami’s chronological accounting of her absences from work over the last ten years. She’d been planning to explain the

whole situation to Dr. Reilly at their scheduled meeting, before suggesting a fresh beginning to their professional relationship. He’d derailed her plan with his preemptive strike – which had been, illogically enough, an abrupt, inexplicable surrender.

Her gaze idly roamed the page, and her attention caught on the one entry that she really hadn’t been looking forward to explaining. Spring, Summer 1995 – Possession. Exorcism performed by John Black She still found the idea of demonic possession a little more than slightly unbelievable, though the notion of John offering his life and soul for hers seemed much more plausible. Marlena knew how much John loved her, and how strong was his desire to protect her…

She inhaled sharply as understanding dawned. Bingo! Those annoying, infuriating, nosy, busybody protective instincts…They haven’t abated one single bit in ten years, have they, John? This is just like that stupid sign-in, sign-out sheet. Her grip tightened on the paper, wrinkling the edges, as she remembered his self-deprecating listing of the exalted positions he held as a jet-setting international businessman and scion of Salem – and his inclusion of his role as a member of the Board of Directors of University Hospital. Dammit, John, what the hell were you thinking?

***

Kristen watched, fuming, as Vivian poured a brandy for herself and Ivan, her movements languid and unconcerned. “You’re supposed to be helping me figure out a way to get John back,” she muttered angrily.

Vivian waved her hand dismissively. “On the contrary, my dear, I don’t have to do anything at all. I hold all the cards in this situation, and you’d do well to remember it. One word from me and that foam pillow *you* call a baby will be revealed to all the world, and John will despise you for what you’ve done.”

“I wouldn’t be so confident if I were you,” Kristen snapped back. “The

whole *point* of hiding my miscarriage was to continue some semblance of a connection between John and me, but there’s no point to any of it if he’s still with Marlena. I might as well let him know the truth, and watch you kiss your position at Titan goodbye.”

Vivian frowned uncertainly. “You’re bluffing.”

Kristen raised an eyebrow. “Am I? Do you really think I’m willing to settle for being John’s friend? For seeing him at parties and business meetings? For watching him gush over Marlena and *their* children? If I can’t have John as my husband, I don’t want him in my life at all. It would hurt too much. And that means I have nothing to lose by forcing you to help me get him back.”

Vivian exchanged a doubtful glance with Ivan, then sighed, resigned. “All right, all right, I believe you. But I really don’t see what you expect us to do. I have little or no influence with my nephew – if I advised him to go back to you, he’d first wonder why I cared and then proceed directly to asking what I was up to.”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “I wasn’t thinking that John would listen to you give him advice. I want you to help me come up with a plan to break them apart, as you’re so good at plotting and planning. I mean, you did *such* a good job on Kate and Victor.”

Ivan coughed and Vivian shot him an angry glare. “Is that sarcasm, Kristen? Because I have to warn you, I don’t *like* sarcasm very much, and if you want my help, you’d do well to remember that.”

Kristen shrugged. “Fine, whatever…so, do you have any ideas?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Vivian replied, seating herself on Kristen’s couch. “Kate was easy to exploit because she made the mistake of attempting to keep secrets from Victor and not doing a very good job of it. But I can’t imagine that there’s anything John and Marlena don’t know about each other by now, and they’re as much in love as they ever were.”

“You know,” Kristen said, gritting her teeth, “I’m getting a little sick of people acting like John and Marlena are the greatest love story since Romeo and Juliet. If they’re so damn perfect for each other, why were they apart for almost a decade? Why did John marry Isabella? Why did he fall in love with me? And why did *Marlena* profess her undying devotion to Roman?”

“Obstacles,” Vivian replied diffidently. “All great loves face great obstacles, Kristen, and Stefano really did a number on John and Marlena. I find the fact that they managed to overcome his machinations quite amazing.” Her brow furrowed. “I think you make a very good point, though. Roman and Isabella *were* the greatest challenges that they faced, because the feelings they both held for their exes were genuine, even if not nearly as strong as their feelings for each other. Unfortunately, both Roman and Isabella are dead, so that doesn’t help you very much.”

Kristen rolled her eyes. “Like I’d want Isabella back anyway. The way John talks, you’d think she was some kind of saint or something, and I really don’t need more than one of those as my competition. But as for Roman…” her voice trailed off as her eyes took on a speculative gleam.

“Roman Brady is *dead*,” Ivan interjected a bit desperately. Kristen turned to regard them with raised brows. “He’s been dead before, and it’s never been a permanent condition. I have some people working on it, just in case. But I think you’re right, it isn’t wise to depend on him to break them apart.”

“I agree,” Vivian put in, “but, frankly, that leaves you very little in the way of options. Ghosts from the past are always the most effective levers to employ, and in this case, there simply aren’t any. Before John met Marlena, he was a priest, and Marlena’s past died when Roman did.”

Kristen chewed her lip thoughtfully. “Not necessarily. Apparently, St.

Marlena of Salem was married once before.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Even had a son by him, or so it seems, by the name of Donald Jeremiah Craig, Jr.”

Vivian frowned. “I assume that means that hubby number one was Donald Jeremiah Craig, Sr., then?”

Kristen shrugged and nodded. “Probably.”

Vivian and Ivan exchanged another quick glance. “So where are they?”

Kristen turned to stare through the French doors into the backyard. “Well, the son’s in St. Luke’s cemetery, buried next to her latest child, but I don’t know where the father is.”

Vivian shivered slightly at the matter-of-fact way Kristen recounted the deaths of innocent children, but then took a deep breath and resolutely shook off her unease. “Perhaps you should find out,” she pointed out.

Kristen’s expression hardened. “Perhaps I will…”

***

“I guess that does it for now,” John offered, stacking his files on the corner of the large polished table in the middle of the Titan Conference Room. “By the time we have the next board meeting, everything should be in order for the vote.” He looked up to find Kate watching him intently. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head and closed the file in front of her. “No, all of this looks fine. I don’t think we’ll have to worry about Vivian much longer.” Her voice trailed off and she pressed her lips together. “Can I talk to you about something?”

He swallowed uneasily, sure of what was coming. “Of course.”

She stood up from her chair and braced her hands on the end of the table. “It’s about Carrie.”

Gee, really? “Um, what about her?”

Kate eyed him closely. “Did you know she quit her job with Countess Wilhelmina?”

Short answers, John. Don’t volunteer *any* information… “Yes.”

“Do you know why?”

Oh, gee, I don’t know…because she wants to get away from *you*? “She was offered a great opportunity and decided to take it.”
Kate sighed. “I see she wasn’t any more forthcoming with you than she was with me. I just can’t believe she’s done this, John.”

John frowned. “What do you mean? Carrie has every right to quit her job if she wants. She doesn’t require your permission.”

Taken aback by his vehemence, Kate regarded him silently for a moment. “You *do* know what this ‘great opportunity’ is,” she concluded finally. “What is it, John?”

He stood up from the table. “Look, Kate, I think this is between you and Carrie, and I’m not getting involved. But if you’d like a bit of unsolicited advice, lay off trying to control Carrie when it comes to her job, or your personal relationship with her is really going to suffer.”

“Pity you don’t take your own advice,” came a voice from the doorway.

“Doc!” he exclaimed. “What are you doing here? I thought you had a meeting.”

“‘Had’ being the operative word,” she replied in a carefully controlled voice. “Hello, Kate.”

Kate looked from Marlena to John, a puzzled frown appearing on her

face at the sudden air of tension in the room. “Um, hello,
Marlena…listen, would you happen to have a few minutes to talk? It’s
about Carrie.”

Marlena tore her gaze from John to glance impatiently at Kate. “I’m not getting involved either, Kate. I think Carrie made a good decision for herself, and I support her one-hundred percent. Now I’d really like a few moments alone with John, if you don’t mind.”

Kate grabbed her files and swept out of the room without another word, her back stiff with righteous injured dignity.

“Doc?” John essayed cautiously after the door had slammed closed. He could see that she was holding herself rigidly under control, and uneasily recalled how explosive her temper could be on the rare occasions of its unleashing. “Are you all right?”

“No, I am not,” she answered, enunciating each word carefully, giving them the power of gunshots. “Would you like to tell me what the *hell* you thought you were doing when you went to the Board of Directors of University Hospital – the place of *my* employment, might I remind you – and complained to them about Dr. Reilly’s treatment of me?

Would you like to tell me why you thought you had the right to interfere in *my* professional life? Especially after your little speech to Kate just now…”

He took a cautious step toward her, but halted at her fulminating glare. “What happened, honey?

She scowled at his use of the endearment but didn’t make an issue of it. “Apparently the Board came down quite hard on Dr. Reilly for his supposedly unfair treatment of me, and told him in no uncertain terms that I was somehow above disciplinary action. He’s been ordered to leave me strictly alone.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Is that so terrible?”

“That isn’t the point and you know it!” she retorted angrily. “Reilly is *my* problem, and dealing with him is *my* responsibility. You had no right to interfere in my career! Do you have any *idea* how difficult this will make my job now?”

“It sounds to me like it’s going to make it easier,” he replied testily. “Look, Doc, Reilly had no business treating you the way he did. You know it and I know it.”

“I would have *handled* it,” she replied through gritted teeth. “I’m a psychiatrist, remember? I had it all figured out, and the end result was *not* going to be the undying enmity of my boss, which is the unfortunate result of *your* little power play. How many times do I have to tell you this, John? I can take care of myself!”

“This from a woman who nearly died of a gunshot wound a few short months ago,” he retorted sarcastically.

Her eyes shot daggers at him. “This isn’t the same thing and you know it. My life was in no danger from Dr. Reilly, and I am perfectly capable of handling one overbearing doctor without any help from you. Just what the hell were you thinking?”

John inhaled deeply and counted to ten. “All right,” he conceded finally. “Maybe I was out of line, but I couldn’t see the harm in it, Doc. All I did was mention something to Mickey about Dr. Reilly’s lack of people skills after we ran into him in the hallway right before we found out about…about Aaron.” He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I thought it was something the Board should know about, frankly. That kind of behavior reflects badly on the hospital.”

Marlena studied him for a moment. “The Board offering concerns about his lack of people skills does nothing to explain the depth of his animosity today, John. He was practically frothing at the mouth.”

John sighed. “Yes, well, I *had* decided to let you handle things after

that and relegate myself to the role of supportive significant
other…that’s why I wanted to be with you for your first meeting with
him. But then the accident happened, and he attacked you in the
waiting room and you collapsed…” He shook his head. “And I guess I
blamed him for it.”

She shuddered and drew in a deep breath. “You know he had nothing to do with my losing the baby, John.”

He sighed again. “Yeah, well, I wasn’t thinking very clearly that day.” He took another step toward her, heartened by the fact that she didn’t stiffen upon his approach. “I ran into Bobbie Simon in the hallway while you were in surgery – I’m not sure if you know her, she’s been the Chairman of the Board since Tom died. Anyway, I guess I let loose a little too much, and maybe I ragged on Reilly a bit too hard.” He looked down at her beseechingly. “It wasn’t part of a *plan* to interfere with your job, Marlena. It probably wouldn’t have mattered *who* I ran into in that hallway – I was just blowing off steam.”

She thought about that for a minute before finally nodding. “Okay, I can see that. But frankly, John, you’ve put me in a terrible position. I have no idea how to work with this man now. He *hates* me!”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Would it help if I talked to him?”

She managed not to roll her eyes. “Oh, no, I really think you’ve done enough, don’t you?”

He nodded, chagrined. “You’re probably right. I’m sorry, Doc.”

Marlena studied him silently for a moment. “All right. Apology accepted. But I want you to make sure that nothing like this ever happens again…I’m very serious, John.”

John regarded her solemnly. “I know you are.” They stared into each

other’s eyes for a moment, before Marlena finally looked away.

She glanced around the conference room, her gaze coming to rest on the files stacked on the conference table. “So are you done here?”

His gaze followed hers and he flushed slightly as he stared at the polished tabletop. “Um, yeah, are you ready to go?”

She raised an eyebrow at his expression, which was a mixture of embarrassment and…something else. Sudden understanding dawned. “So this is the famous conference table, huh?”

His cheeks reddened and he swallowed. “Uh-huh.”

She grinned at his discomfiture. “I don’t know,” she murmured, raising an eyebrow, “It doesn’t really look all that comfortable to me.” She reached out to trace a finger lightly up his arm. “But then, I suppose with the proper motivation…” Her voice trailed off suggestively.

He groaned. “Very funny, Doc. Don’t tease me like that. We still have another week before we can…you know.”

She nodded. “But lets keep it in mind,” she said, smiling brightly. “You ready to go home?”

He grinned and slipped his arm around her waist. “Let’s go.” Chapter 46

“Dr. Reilly!” Marlena called as she caught sight of her elusive quarry hurrying down the hallway. “Dr. Reilly, I want to talk to you!”

Reilly swung about as if to leave, but then sighed and turned back to face her. “Dr. Evans,” he replied in a put-upon tone as she jogged to a halt next to him. “I’d really appreciate it if you wouldn’t yell down the hallways – it might upset the patients and it’s very unprofessional. We in administration generally prefer a *quiet* hospital.”

“Sorry,” she shot back, slightly out of breath. “It’s just that every time

I’ve seen you for the past week, you’ve somehow managed to vanish before I could speak to you.” She offered him a brilliantly fake smile. “And I know you wouldn’t want that to happen again.”

“Guess again, Dr. Evans,” he replied, glaring at her. “Look, I thought we established the parameters of our future professional relationship when we met last week. You stay out of my way, and I stay out of yours, and *that* means that you do not yell at me down hospital corridors. Is that clear?”

She scowled. “I agree that *you* made yourself perfectly clear when last we met. Now it’s time for me to have my say. We can do it out here in the hallway, or we can go to my office…it’s up to you.”

Reilly noted the determined expression on her face and guessed – correctly – that she would not take ‘no’ for an answer. “Fine,” he sighed. “Your office. I’ll give you ten minutes.” ***

“I don’t have anything further to say on the subject, Kate, and I have a meeting in ten minutes.” John tried to keep his tone on the side of civility, but it was a difficult task, as she’d been yelling at him for almost half and hour.

Kate took a deep breath and tried to calm down. “I simply cannot *believe* that you would stoop to stealing *my* employees, John,” she said for the what seemed like the fiftieth time.

He rolled his eyes, goaded past the point of politeness. “I didn’t ‘steal your employees’. I offered Carrie a position in my company, and she took it because it’s a great opportunity for professional advancement. That’s the way it works in the business world, Kate.”

She leaned forward, her hands braced on the edge of the desk. “Don’t you *want* Carrie and Austin to be happy?” she asked in a tone that implied his behavior indicated otherwise.

He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “This has nothing to do with Carrie and

Austin, Kate. Can’t you see that? I just thought Carrie would be the best person for this job, so I offered it to her. And she wanted to do it, so she said yes. That’s it, Kate – end of story!”

“No, it isn’t, and you know it!” she practically shouted. “Giving Carrie this job and splitting she and Austin apart means you’re giving Sami the opportunity she’s been waiting for. God knows what she’ll come up with to get to Austin now!”

That tears it! John slammed his fist down on the table. “That is *enough*, Kate! That’s my *daughter* you’re talking about, and I will not stand here and listen you slander her!” Kate opened her mouth to speak, but John cut her off with a glare. “I will not speak about Carrie *or* Sami with you any longer. This conversation is over!”

“It certainly is!” agreed an angry voice from behind Kate. John turned to see Carrie standing in the doorway, flanked by Mike Horton and Stacy Krugman, the editor of Bella Magazine. Carrie scowled at Kate. “I can’t believe you came here behind my back to encourage my new boss to *fire* me, Kate. And you called *me* unprofessional!” Mike and Stacy traded uncomfortable glances and eased back out the doorway.

Kate tried for a reasonable tone. “This isn’t about your work, Carrie.”

Carrie’s scowl didn’t abate. “You’re right, it’s not. It’s about you sticking your nose where it absolutely doesn’t belong – *again*! This is your last warning, Kate. I want you to stay out of my business.”

A hurt expression appeared on Kate’s face. “I can’t believe you’re acting this way toward me after all I’ve done for you.”

Carrie regarded her silently for a moment. “For me?” she finally asked in a voice weighed down by infinite weariness. “Or for you, Kate? Is this about *my* relationship with Austin or *yours*?” Kate winced as the question hit a nerve. Carrie sighed. “I can’t be responsible for that, Kate – and I don’t want to be. Whatever it is you feel you owe to Austin

because of the past is your business…and your responsibility. Just promise me you’ll give up trying to sabotage my job here. There’s no way you can change things now, and all you’re doing is harming *our* relationship.”

Kate finally nodded, but it was a gesture of retreat, not resignation. “I’ll let you get to your meeting,” she muttered, making for the door. She glared at Mike on her way out.

Carrie took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. “I’m so sorry, John. She has no right to subject you to scenes like this, no matter how upset she is.” He gazed out the door at Kate’s retreating form, a slight frown marring his brow. “It’s not your fault, Carrie. Kate’s problems are not your fault.” Abruptly, he shook his head and turned to face them as Mike and Stacy reentered the room. Stacy, a slim brunette with intelligent dark eyes and a quick smile, had been managing editor of Bella magazine for the past six months. John didn’t know her very well, but the increase in Bella’s circulation spoke well of her talents. He offered her a welcoming smile. “So, shall we start the meeting? Um, I’m not quite sure why you’re here, Mike.”

Carrie managed a smile as she shook off the pall Kate’s words had cast over the room. “We were meeting about the Toscano Cancer Wing. Stacy wants to do an in-depth article about it for the upcoming issue of Bella, since the wing was one of Isabella’s greatest legacies.”

“Yes,” Mike chimed in, “and Dr. Farnaz asked me to coordinate with the magazine while she’s so busy with out of town research trips – for some reason she didn’t want to turn this over to the Chief of Staff.” Mike’s tone told them that he had no doubt of the reason.

“That’s understandable,” John replied in an even tone, managing with difficulty to squelch the urge to be sarcastic. “Glad to have you on board, Mike.”

Stacy smiled. “Let’s get to work.”

***

“What is this?” Reilly snapped impatiently as Marlena held a piece of paper out toward him.

She shot him a look of long-suffering patience. “Why don’t you read it and find out?” With a martyred sigh, he snatched the page from her hand and collapsed into the chair in front of her desk. She seated herself behind it and waited for his reaction.

Seconds later he looked up at her, his brow furrowed in confusion. “It’s a timeline of some sort.”

She nodded. “It’s a timeline of the past ten or so years explaining the gaps in my work record – dates of my absences and a list of the reasons for them.”

Reilly looked back down at the page. “This is utterly appalling…Who in the world is Stefano DiMera?”

Marlena almost laughed. “You really *are* from out of town, aren’t you? Stefano DiMera is a supremely evil man who heads – or headed

– an international crime syndicate. He’s ruthless, amoral, and relentless. And he’s made a practice of making my life and the lives of my family absolutely miserable.”

“Five *years* in an induced coma?” he murmured in a voice tinged with disbelief.

“Yes,” she sighed. “Until I managed to escape from him and come back to my family. But he didn’t give up…he still hasn’t. My disappearance last year is sufficient proof of that.”

Reilly shook his head incredulously. “I can’t believe the man has stalked you for so many years and isn’t in jail.” He looked further down the list, and doubt darkened his face as he raised his eyes to hers. “Is this some kind of joke?”

She sighed again. “I guess you got to 1995, huh?” She shrugged. “I

know it’s difficult to believe, but everyone I know and trust swears that it’s true…I was possessed by the devil.”

The doctor frowned suspiciously. “Isn’t that something you’d *remember*?” he asked, his voice dripping sarcasm.

Marlena regarded him steadily. “Ordinarily, I suppose it would be. John says my memories of what happened were a bit sketchy, but I *did* have some. Unfortunately, what memories I had I lost last year after I was shot escaping from Stefano’s latest prison. In fact, I don’t remember anything from the last ten years.”

His gaze narrowed. “Are you saying you have…amnesia?”

She nodded. “That’s what I’m saying. That’s why I can’t resume my patient load – I don’t *remember* any of them. And that’s why I couldn’t explain my abysmal work record of the past few years.” She gestured toward the paper. “I had to get my *daughter* to help me with that.”

He took a deep breath. “Okay…supposing I accept this as legitimate…” He closed his eyes briefly. “Except for the possession part, which I really would prefer not to address…” He looked up at her, still frowning. “That doesn’t explain your actions with the Board of Directors. If our differences were really as easy to resolve as this -” he held out the paper “- then why did you complain to the Board?”

She sat back in her chair, her expression sheepish. “For *that* I do owe you an apology. I didn’t actually complain to the *Board* per se,” she explained. “I went home and complained to the man I love – the same way millions of professional women do all across America, I’m sure.” Her smile was wry. “I just didn’t remember that the man I loved was also on the Board of this hospital…and that he tends to be a tad overprotective at times.” She winced at the expression on Reilly’s face. “Okay, waaaaay too overprotective. He means well, Dr. Reilly, and he usually uses better judgment than this, but he was very upset at the time. Actually, I don’t think that things would have gotten so far out of hand, except that I was talking to you when I collapsed in the

hallway.”

Comprehension dawned. “Before your miscarriage,” he murmured. He winced at the stark misery that flashed in her eyes.

But her voice remained calm and measured. “Yes. He overreacted, I admit, but he was terribly worried about me, and angry that you hadn’t allowed me to explain why I was late for my meeting with you.” She took a deep breath. “He’s promised not to interfere again, and I trust him not to. He also offered to talk to the Board, but I told him I thought that would do more harm than good. If you think otherwise, just tell me.”

Reilly studied her for a moment. “No,” he said finally, “I think you’re right. It would probably be good for them to see us together without weapons drawn, but, otherwise, I think it would be best for us to just allow it to blow over.”

She nodded her agreement. “Well, we’ll have our first opportunity to make nice for the cameras tomorrow night. That is, if you’ll be going to the Medical Student fundraiser.”

He laughed uncomfortably. “But of course. My first command performance as chief of staff.”

Her eyes sparkled. “Got a costume?”

He shrugged sheepishly. “Well, there’s always one of the doctors from M*A*S*H.” He sighed. “I hate theme parties, but I suppose it could be worse. Instead of ‘The Sixties and Seventies’ the theme could be ‘The Civil War’ or ‘The Roaring Twenties’. I could just see myself dressed as Abe Lincoln or Al Capone.”

She laughed at the mental image his words conjured. “I take the fifth, on the grounds that anything I might say could be used against me.”

Reilly smiled. “What about you?” He closed his eyes and touched his

hand to his forehead in a passable imitation of Carnac the Magnificent. “I’m seeing…one of Charlie’s Angels.” He opened one eye to peek at her. “Farrah, perhaps?”

“Oh, bite your tongue,” Marlena groaned. “I don’t *know* what I’m going as. My daughter is getting our costumes…” She scowled. “And if I *do* turn up as one of Charlie’s Angels, I’ll know who to blame for the idea…”

He chuckled as he stood up from his chair. “Whoops, there goes the truce.” His humor faded as he looked down at the paper still clutched in his hand. “I’m glad we got this straightened out,” he told her solemnly. “I’d like to begin our professional association over again, if you’re amenable.”

She nodded.

He held out his right hand – which she shook without a moment’s hesitation – and offered her a smile. “I’m Dr. James Reilly, your new chief of staff.”

“Dr. Marlena Evans. Welcome to University Hospital, Doctor.” ***

“I think that’s all I need for now,” Stacy concluded, stacking her files on her lap. She glanced at Carrie. “Except the decision about the cover shot for the issue, that is.”

John frowned. “What decision?”

Carrie glanced nervously toward Mike before turning to John. “It was my idea, actually. We were having a little trouble coming up with an idea that would convey what we were wanting to say about Isabella. We thought about using an old picture of her, but…”

John raised his eyebrows. “But what?”

“But it’s her legacy we want to emphasize – how she continues to affect us even after she’s been gone for five years. So I asked myself what her greatest legacy was, and I came up with…well, I came up with Brady.”

John held up his hand. “Now wait a minute, Carrie-”

“I know how you feel about protecting him, John, but just listen to me for a minute. I think Brady’s still too young for this kind of publicity to affect him adversely, and I also think that this magazine is something you’ll be glad to have for him when he gets older and asks about Isabella.”

“I’m not arguing with that,” he replied, “but that doesn’t mean he has to be on the cover.”

“Not just Brady,” she corrected. “But also you, because you were her husband, and Belle, because she’s her namesake. And if Marlena has decided to become a columnist for the magazine again, her as well, both for her relationship to both Isabella and you, and because she’s involved with Bella.”

“Oh, I don’t know, Carrie…Doc *did* decide to take the columnist’s job, but I don’t think she would want to do the cover. She doesn’t remember Isabella, honey.”

“I know. But she loves Brady more than anything, and she’s Belle’s mom.” John didn’t reply. “Just think about it, okay? I think it would be a wonderful way to remember what Isabella meant to everyone.”

He sighed. “Look, I promise to talk to Doc about it, but if she thinks it’s not a good idea for her or the kids, then that’ll be the end of it. Okay?”

Carrie nodded. “Okay.” She exhaled and smiled at all of them in turn. “I think this is going to be a great issue, guys. I’m really excited about the ideas we have so far.”

Mike and Stacy smiled back at her as they stood up to leave. “I’ll meet you downstairs in ten minutes, okay, Mike?” Carrie added. His grin turned sheepish, but he nodded before he and Stacy left the room.

“Meet him?” John murmured, eyebrows raised.

Carrie laughed. “Yeah. He told me he was planning on going to the party as one of the doctors from M*A*S*H, can you believe it? Every single doctor from the hospital is probably going as that, so I told him that I’d help him pick out something at the costume shop.” She winked at John. “After all, I have to pick up the costumes for you and Marlena, anyway.”

“You still won’t tell me what we’re going as?” he asked, his tone plaintive.

“Nope,” she replied, grinning. “I won’t tell. Not even if you torture me.” It was the traditional reply she’d offered from childhood to answer questions as diverse as “Where are your shoes?” to “Where are the twins?”

He advanced on her slowly, his grin nostalgic, and offered his traditional reply in turn. “But I can always employ the *tickle* torture…”

She laughed as she squirmed to evade him. “No fair, no

fair…*harassment*! Hey everyone, the boss is harassing me!”

He gave up his half-hearted advance, chuckling. “Stop that before you really get me into trouble.”

Carrie’s smile faded a little. “Yeah,” she agreed, gazing down at the floor. “It’s not like they’re not already wondering why in the world I got this job in the first place.”

John’s brow furrowed. “Did someone say something to you?”

She shrugged. “No…not to my face, anyway. I guess I can’t really

blame them. On the face of it, it really doesn’t look like I’m the most qualified person for this position.”

“That’s not true,” he objected automatically. “You are *very* qualified for the job, and you also knew Isabella personally. I told you how important that was to me.”

“I know,” she sighed. “But explaining *that* would entail my mentioning that I was your daughter for seven years, and, frankly, that wouldn’t improve my standing among the other employees very much. It would just be exchanging one form of favoritism for another in their eyes.”

He stepped back, a bit stunned. “I’m…sorry, Carrie.”

She reached for his arm, instantly apologetic for causing the hurt in his voice. “It isn’t your fault, John, and I wouldn’t change a day of the time we spent together. I’m just not used to people instantly assuming I slept my way to the top, that’s all. Maybe it *would* be better to tell them that you practically raised me, but that might make it even harder for me to gain their respect. At least once you and Marlena get married they’ll probably drop the mistress theory.”

He looked both pained and bemused. “Obviously you haven’t yet experienced just how vicious water-cooler gossip can get.”

She groaned quietly. “Oh, I really don’t want to go there, John. Let’s just hope that doesn’t happen, okay?” She glanced at her watch. “Mike’s probably waiting, I’d better go…you still planning to do it tonight?”

He smiled and kissed her cheek. “Yep. Thanks for coming with me yesterday, punkin. It really meant a lot to me.”

“No problem.” Carrie’s grin was positively wicked. “Let me know what her answer is, okay?”

John swatted her arm playfully. “Get out of here.” He watched her leave, murmuring “Her answer…” under his breath while glancing at his own watch. “Whoops, better get this show on the road.” ***

“Hello, Kristen,” Vivian acknowledged unenthusiastically as she walked through the front door of the DiMera mansion, Ivan close at her heels.

“Hello, Vivian,” Kristen replied, a beaming smile on her face. “So nice of you to drop by.”

Vivian rolled her eyes and collapsed onto the couch, her hand held dramatically to her brow. “You called, we came,” she snapped. “What’s so bloody important?”

“Why, I need your help, of course,” Kristen replied in a butter-wouldn’t-melt tone. “Since you so generously offered to do whatever you could to help me get John back.”

“Oh, yes,” Vivian muttered, visibly bored. “I take it you have some sort of *plan*, then?”

Kristen laced her fingers together and laid them on top of her protruding foam-rubber belly. “I certainly do. I have an absolutely foolproof plan. In fact, it’s possible John might be back with us as soon as tomorrow night.”

Vivian and Ivan exchanged a wary look. “Us?” Ivan asked finally.

Kristen colored as she glanced down at the pregnancy pillow. “Well, me and my baby…what he *thinks* is my baby.”

“Uh-huh,” Vivian muttered, her expression clearly saying – someone is definitely a few slices short of a loaf. As a former inmate of Pinehaven, Vivian considered herself an expert at spotting the unbalanced. “You know, Kristen, if I were you I wouldn’t *want* him back until that

pillow’s been fluffed, so to speak. There’s no way you could pull this charade off if you and he were living in close quarters.”

Kristen waved a dismissive hand. “Well, I will of course make him *pay* for abandoning us first. I’ll forgive him right around the due date and then present him with our child. Don’t worry, I have everything worked out.”

Vivian rolled her eyes at Ivan. “We weren’t worried,” she remarked flatly. “So what do you need *us* for?”

“Oh, right…I did mention that the big day was tomorrow, didn’t I?”

They nodded. “And you know what else tomorrow is, don’t you?”

“I haven’t the vaguest. Let me guess…National Delusion Day?”

“Funny,” Kristen retorted, her expression indicating that she considered it anything but. “It’s the Medical Student Fundraiser for the hospital. You *are* going, aren’t you?”

“Well, of course I am,” Vivian replied. “As Victor’s wife, it’s expected of me – so, in spite of the ludicrous theme they’ve chosen, Ivan and I will be there with costumes on. Which reminds me-” she added, glancing at Ivan, “-we need to pick up our costumes on the way home.”

“That’s perfect,” Kristen interjected. “While you’re there, I want you to find out what Marlena and John are going as.”

“Find out what they’re going as…” Vivian repeated blankly. “Just ‘find out’? Not ‘destroy their costumes’ or ‘cancel their order’ or anything like that?”

“Nope,” Kristen replied. “Just find out and call me. I’ll take care of the rest.”

Vivian and Ivan stood up from the couch and exchanged puzzled glances. “That’s it? That’s all you wanted?”

Kristen nodded as she ushered them toward the doorway. “Yes, that’s it.”

Vivian grabbed the doorknob to keep Kristen from shutting the front door behind them and remarked a little desperately, “But you didn’t tell us how you will be getting John back…and why *tomorrow* so specifically.”

Kristen smiled serenely. “You’re right, I didn’t…and I don’t believe I will. For some reason I just can’t seem to trust you completely. Imagine that.” Her voice positively dripped sarcasm. “Besides, I think you might enjoy being surprised along with everybody else.” She leaned in toward them, and the malicious gleam in her eye sent a chill down Vivian’s spine. “I will give you a little hint, though, if you like.”

Ivan swallowed audibly and offered a barely perceptible nod. Vivian held her breath.

“Do you remember the conversation we had about the past coming back to haunt you?” They nodded in unison. “Well, tomorrow night, Marlena’s past is going to come back to haunt her with a vengeance…and when it does, it should be quite a show, for everyone, and…and that’s all I believe I’ll tell you.” Kristen wrenched the doorknob from Vivian’s hand and slammed the door in their startled faces, nearly catching Ivan’s fingers in the doorjamb.

They stood on the porch in front of the house and stared at each other. “Madame, I have a very bad feeling about this,” Ivan said finally.

“Oh, that’s brilliant, Sherlock,” Vivian snapped as she headed down the sidewalk. “What was your first clue?” ***

“Aren’t you finished yet?” John asked impatiently, craning his head around Sami to ponder his reflection in the full-length mirror that stood in the corner of her bedroom.

“Stop squirming. Geez, dressing you is as bad as dressing Will.” She wrestled with his tie for a few more moments, then offered a nod of satisfaction. “There you go. You know, you wouldn’t have to go through this if you would just learn to tie these things yourself.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve tried to teach myself…and Doc tried to teach me, and so did both Caroline and Isabella. But no dice – apparently I’ll never get the hang of it.”

“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured as she applied the finishing touches. She tilted her head back and eyed him, resplendent in a black tuxedo and navy vest and tie. “It’s probably just that priest collars are a little bit easier to put on.”

John choked back a startled laugh. “You may have a point there.” He stepped away from her and executed a passable runway turn. “So…do I pass muster?”

Sami frowned and bit her lip. “Hmm, let’s see…I *suppose* so. You don’t look *too* bad. I mean, Mom *probably* won’t run away screaming when she sees you or anything like that.”

John grinned. “Gee, thanks.” Then he sobered and gazed down at her solemnly. “Are you really okay with this, Sami?”

She wouldn’t meet his eyes. “I said I was, didn’t I?”

“Hey,” he murmured softly, tilting her chin up with his index finger. “Honey, you don’t owe me anything, and I don’t want you to lie about your feelings. You have the right to feel however you really feel. I can handle it, I promise.”

She finally met his gaze. “I *am* fine with it…most days. It’s just *hard* sometimes, John.”

He nodded. “I understand. Just don’t keep it all bottled up inside,

okay? You don’t need to do that – we aren’t that fragile.”

Sami inhaled deeply and finally nodded. “Okay…” Her smile was tentative. “I *do* want you to have a good time tonight, though. Honest.”

“I hope you have a good time, too. I’ll just go tell Belle and Brady to be extra well-behaved for you this evening. You know, you’re a very brave person to take on three kids all by yourself.”

She shrugged, her eyes glinting with suppressed emotion. “Why not? You did.”

He caressed her cheek briefly. “Why don’t you go check on your Mom? You can tell her I’ll be ready to go after I say goodnight to the kids.”

Sami nodded and watched as he left the room. Sighing, she followed him out the doorway and turned toward the master bedroom Marlena and John shared, firmly squelching fond memories of the years when her mother had shared that same room with her father. She poked her head through the doorway. “Mom?” But the room was empty, and Sami decided to check downstairs. She found her mother in the living room, gazing at the pictures on the mantle.

Sami whistled under her breath at the sight of her, and Marlena turned around, the look on her face one of slight embarrassment combined with grateful appreciation. “So, what do you think, honey? Think John’ll like it?” She held her arms out to show off her strapless dress of midnight blue silk, shot through with silver thread. She wore no jewelry except for the charm bracelet John had given her for Christmas and a small pair of diamond stud earrings. Her hair was upswept in a loose chignon, a few wispy tendrils escaping to curl around her ears. Her face was flushed with excited anticipation, the deep blue of the dress emphasizing her sparkling eyes.

“You look great, Mom,” Sami managed through the lump in her throat.

“John’s going to love it. He’s upstairs saying goodnight to the kids right now. He’ll be down in a minute.”

Marlena chuckled. “I’m ready before him for once. Imagine that.” She peered more closely at Sami’s face. “Are you okay, sweetie?”

“Sure,” Sami replied, not entirely convincingly. She was saved from further interrogation by John’s appearance. He stopped dead at the foot of the stairs, his appreciative gaze locked on Marlena. “Whoa, Doc…very nice.”

Marlena grinned. “You don’t look so bad yourself, handsome.” She crossed the room to meet him by the door and laid her hand across his arm. “Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?”

“Not a chance,” he replied cheerfully, turning to Sami. “You have my celphone number, don’t you, Sami?”

“Mmm-hmm. You guys have a good time,” she mumbled hurriedly, offering them a halfhearted wave before racing up the stairs two steps at a time.

Marlena stared after her daughter, her brow furrowed worriedly. “Do you think she’s all right, John?”

He pressed his lips together. “I think she will be, honey. I think we just have to give her some time.” He looked down at his beautiful date for the evening. “Are you ready to leave?”

She reached up to cup his cheek with her hand and smiled in satisfaction when his eyes dilated with desire at her touch. “Are you sure you want to go *out*, John?” she murmured suggestively. “The doctor did give me a clean bill of health today, and I can think of so *many* ways to celebrate…without ever leaving home.” Her lip quirked impishly.

He smiled. “And I would love to do just that, Doc. In fact, I’ll take as

many rainchecks as you’d care to offer, beautiful lady. But, first, we have some major league celebrating to do.”

“We do, hmmm?” she asked, nuzzling his neck contentedly. “Well, the sooner we get started, the sooner we finish, right? Let’s go.”

John laughed. “That’s the attitude I was looking for.” He opened the

front door with a dramatic flourish. “Your chariot awaits, milady.” He
looked down into her shining eyes. “Prepare yourself for an evening
you’ll never forget.”
Chapter 47
“This isn’t the beginning to some sort of twisted, kinky sex game, is it?” Marlena asked in an amused tone. She gripped John’s arm a little tighter when her heel caught on a warped board as they began to descend the stairs.

John laughed as he led her carefully down the steps to the docks below. He nodded his thanks to the man who’d just completed the finishing touches on his surprise for Marlena. The man made an *All done* gesture and departed toward the other end of the pier. “Okay, stop here, honey.”

“Are you going to take off the blindfold now?”

“Just a second,” he murmured, stepping forward to light the two tall white candles resting on the elegant dining table set for two. He straightened the snowy white linen tablecloth and lined up the China and crystal in perfect symmetry. “Okay, let me get that for you.” Slowly he unknotted the silk scarf tied around her eyes and allowed it to slide off of her shoulders.

Marlena stared down at the tableau before her. “Oh, John, it’s beautiful.” She glanced out at the river and then turned to him with a bemused smile on her face. “We’re on the docks, aren’t we?” Her question wasn’t really asking *where* so much as *why*.

He nodded and grinned. “Pier twenty-nine, to be exact.”

She looked back toward the wooden bench under the hanging ropes and grinned. “We used to come here a lot in the old days, didn’t we?”

John heard the gentle nostalgia in her tone, and experienced a mild pang of regret that she couldn’t remember just how special this particular pier was in their shared history. It wasn’t often that he rued the loss of the good times she no longer recalled, as opposed to the bad times that might actually be best left in the past. “More than you know, Doc,” he murmured. “More than you know.”

She raised a quizzical brow. “What do you mean?”

He smiled past the regret. “I will explain that in due time, milady. First, you must join me at this most excellent repast.” He pulled out her chair with an exaggerated flourish and she laughed as she sat down.

“Why, thank you. You do that very well, you know. Have you ever thought about becoming a butler?”

He grinned and seated himself. “I did, but the whole Fortune 500 business mogul thing kind of gets in the way.”

She gazed down at the elegant place settings and whistled appreciatively. “You must learn to prioritize, Mr. Black,” she intoned in a therapist’s voice before melting into a smile. “This is all so wonderful, John.”

“Well, today’s a very special day and thus requires a very special celebration,” he remarked as he uncorked the bottle of champagne that had been resting in the ice bucket next to the table.

Marlena bit her lip. “A special day?” she repeated in a hopeful voice. His grin widened but he didn’t avert his gaze from the bottle. She persisted, “You remembered, didn’t you?”

John said nothing as he filled their champagne flutes. He gestured for

her to pick up her glass as he raised his own, and as the crystal rang

with a toast, he said, “Of course, I remember, Doc. I’ve remembered
every single year since 1986, whether we were together or
not…whether I even believed you were *alive* or not…” She smiled at
him tearily, and he blinked back a few of his own. “Happy Anniversary,
Doc.”

She swallowed and swiped at a wayward tear. “Happy Anniversary, John.” They sipped their champagne in unison, their gazes locked on each other. Finally Marlena turned her head to gaze out over the water. “The river’s beautiful tonight, isn’t it? With all the stars reflecting on the water…” She looked back at him, still smiling. “It looks just like it did the first night I brought you here…the night you told me that you felt drawn to the water, and to Salem…like you belonged here.” She reached across the table to cup is cheek tenderly. “You were right, weren’t you? You do belong here.”

He turned his head to kiss her palm. “I know I do…I belong here with you.” He gestured toward the dock. “That’s why I chose this pier for our little celebration tonight. Because of all the wonderful times we’ve had here…and all the wonderful times we’re *going* to have here…” His voice trailed off suggestively.

“That’s a segue if ever I heard one,” Marlena concluded. “Just what have you planned here, Mr. Black?”

He grinned. “You’ll see, Dr. Evans. You’ll see.” He gestured toward the covered dishes. “First of all, we have a delicious dinner, prepared by the fabulous chefs from the Penthouse Grill.”

Marlena lifted the silver lid covering her dish and inhaled deeply. “It smells delicious, John.”

“Mmm-hmmm,” he agreed as he picked up the champagne bottle. “And second, as you have already learned, we have some really ritzy bubbly.” He corked the bottle as he chuckled, “The guy at the Grill said it was the best bottle in the house, not that *I’d* know the difference. I

guess we’ll just have to trust him.”

“Let me see that,” she said, putting down her fork and reaching across the table. She let out another low whistle when she saw the label. “He was *right*, John. You could start a college fund with what this costs.” She blinked as if suddenly realizing something. “Well, I suppose this Fortune 500 business mogul lifestyle has a few things going for it.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Think you’ll be able to stomach it, do you?”

“It’ll be hard but I think I can manage,” Marlena grinned. “What else?”

He stood up from the table and held out his hand. “Why, music, of course. May I have this dance, please?”

She nodded, frowning as she rose from her chair. “I don’t hear any music.”

“Wait,” he said, leading her back toward the wooden overhang. He reached down to switch on a CD player hidden behind the far end of the wooden bench, and the sweet strands of a violin filled the air. “I thought about hiring some musicians,” he confided as he swept her into his arms. “But I didn’t want to share you with anyone else this evening. I wanted this anniversary celebration to be just between the two of us.”

She laid her head against his chest and smiled. “Good call. Kind of like our two-person wedding reception, don’t you think?” John chuckled at the memory of the way they had ditched their official reception in favor of getting a jump on their honeymoon. He pulled her closer.

They danced silently for a few minutes, each of them utterly content to be in the other’s arms, swaying under the stars in the moonlight to the sound of sweet music and the lapping of the water against the dock. “I feel like I’m living in a dream,” Marlena finally said as the song died away. John let go of her reluctantly and led her back to the table.

“It *is* a dream, Doc. It’s *our* dream, and it isn’t going to end.” He pulled her chair out again. “But we don’t want our food to be cold when we eat it in our dream, now do we? We’d better save the rest of the dancing for later.”

Marlena picked up her fork and regarded him with sparkling eyes. “Oh, I don’t know…I have some other things in mind for later.”

He grinned as he swallowed a bite of salmon. “Why, Dr. Evans, I’m shocked. You *do* know that doing what you’re thinking of doing on a public pier is *extremely* illegal, don’t you?”

She raised a superior eyebrow. “So you believe you know what I’m thinking, do you? We’ll just see about that. But not until *after* I’m done eating my delicious dinner.” She took an ostentatious bite of salmon and made exaggerated noises of satisfaction.

John laughed and offered her a roll from the breadbasket. “So I guess that means you aren’t sorry that I made you come out tonight?”

“Of course not,” she replied as she split the roll in two. “I will admit that I never would have guessed where you were taking me, though.”

He sipped some champagne to wash down the bread. “That’s because you don’t remember everything that happened here, Doc.”

Her knife paused as she buttered the bread. “I don’t? What else was there?”

He reached over to caress her arm. “Do you remember me telling you about the day you came back to me after you escaped from Stefano.”

Her brow furrowed. “Um, yes, I think so…you said you felt something calling you…to the *docks*, wasn’t it?” She looked up at him. “Was that here? Did we see each other again for the first time here?”

John nodded and swallowed, momentarily overcome by the memory.

“Yes,” he finally managed to say. He glanced out across the water. “It was nothing like tonight, though. The fog was so thick that you couldn’t see two feet in front of your face. When I got here I could see someone standing on the pier.” He laughed a little. “I don’t know who I was expecting it to be, but I didn’t take a breath until he walked up to me and I could see that it was one of my patrolmen.” His smile was rueful. “He wanted to know what I was doing on the docks instead of attending my engagement party, and I didn’t have an answer for him. He left, and I looked out over the water for a few more minutes…and then I started to leave…”

Marlena stared at him, rapt. “What happened?”

“Something caught my eye at the other end of the docks, but I couldn’t see what it was, so I decided to leave anyway. And then you called out to me, and walked toward me…and I just froze, Doc. I though I was *dreaming*, because it was just like the dream I had for so many months after I thought you’d died. I’d see you coming out of the fog, or the water-” his lip quirked, “or the kitchen…It didn’t matter so long as you came back to me. So when it finally happened, I couldn’t believe it was real. Not until I touched you…”

Her eyes were shining. “That must have been so amazing, John.”

“It was, Doc,” he replied a bit wistfully. “It really was. I wish you could remember…”

“I do, too,” she replied softly. “There’s so much about the last ten years that I’m content to leave in the past, but some things – like this, like Belle being born – some things I want back so much it hurts sometimes.”

He reached across the table to caress her cheek. “Hey, Doc, this is a celebration. I didn’t mean to bring you down.”

“You didn’t,” she replied, wiping away her tears. “Tell me more…tell me what else happened here.”

“Okay,” he said, taking her hand and drawing her up from the table. They stepped toward the edge of the dock, and he pulled her into his arms. They stood entwined together, staring out over the water. “I said goodbye to you here, Doc,” he murmured, squeezing her a little tighter. “After that plane went down, I came here and screamed your name to the river. I couldn’t understand how God could be so cruel as to take you from me…and I realized it wasn’t God who’d done it, and that I should be thanking him instead, because he gave you to me in the first place…That’s why it hit me so hard when we met here all those months ago after you found out about Kristen and you told me we would never be together. All I could think about was that this time *I* was the one who had taken you away from me, and I had no one to blame but myself.” He felt a teardrop hit his arm. “Hey, Doc, don’t cry. This story has a *happy* ending, remember?”

She nodded underneath his chin. “I know, honey. But don’t expect me to hear about your pain and not feel anything. Don’t expect me not to feel guilty for hurting you.”

He kissed the top of her head. “No matter how much I deserved it?” She choked on a miserable laugh. “It wasn’t only pain, Doc. I never would have brought you here if it only held painful memories. In fact, about a year and a half after you came back, I had one of the best nights of my life on this pier.”

Marlena craned her neck to look up at him. “What happened?”

“It was January,” he whispered in a faraway voice, “and cold…so cold you could see your breath in front of you. It wasn’t long after you and I were rescued from the pit where your patient had trapped you, and we were having a difficult time dealing with it. And that day we had gone on Jennifer Deveraux’s talk show to talk about everything we’d been through. Things had gotten a little…*intense*. Jennifer kept asking us about how our previous relationship had affected the way we dealt with what happened to us…if our love had helped us get through it, that sort of thing. Somehow we got around to the day you came back

to me on this very pier, and it was like I was back here again, and all the things that happened in between were somehow unimportant. So after the show was over I came down here…and I saw you standing right over there.”

“Waiting for you…” she interjected softly.

He curled his arm about her waist. “Not consciously, I don’t think. But you were as affected by the interview as I was. All the things we’d buried deep inside us since Roman returned came crashing down on us that day.”

She shook her head slightly in disbelief. “I still can’t believe we tried so hard to pretend our marriage never happened.”

John nodded. “But then, when you look at all the pain that came from remembering…”

Marlena twisted in his arms until she stood facing him. “Waiting just made it worse, John, and lying to ourselves – and to Roman – led him to believe that there wasn’t a problem at all. That wasn’t fair to any of us.”

He sighed. “It was a long time ago, Doc, and you’ll just have to trust me when I say that we did the best we could. We thought we were doing the right thing when we tried to forget.”

“But it didn’t work,” she concluded. “And we figured that out here on this pier?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “I finally told you that we had to stop ignoring our feelings, because we could no longer pretend they didn’t exist, and there was no point in wishing them away.” He cradled her face between his palms and rubbed his thumbs across her cheeks. “I told you I still loved you, Doc.”

She stared up at him, barely breathing. “What did I say?”

“It took a little persuading,” he admitted ruefully, “but you finally said the words I’d been waiting so long to hear.”

She linked her fingers behind his neck and pulled him closer. “I said I still loved you, didn’t I? And I do. I love you so much, honey.”

John leaned down to kiss her softly. “I love you, too, Doc.” He swallowed. “You have no idea how it made me feel to finally hear you say those words again. And standing here on this pier on that cold, cold January night, I felt happier than I had in a very long time.”

Marlena smiled up at him, but a furrow of concern marred her brow.

“Was…was *I* happy?” she asked hesitantly.

He didn’t meet her eyes as he exhaled slowly. “No, not really.” His jaw clenched. “I think maybe you knew that we were opening up something that could never be closed off again. And you had the most to lose if that happened.”

“Was that when we began our affair?” Her voice was calm and controlled.

He lowered his eyes, shame darkening his features. “I guess it depends on what you mean by affair, Doc,” he replied, pained. “Is it the act of physical betrayal? Or is it when someone else takes a part of your heart that should belong only to your husband?”

She pulled her hand through his hair to cup his cheek. “You were never out of my heart, John. I may not remember what happened back then, but I know that forgetting you, and somehow putting an end to my love for you, would have been utterly impossible for me.” She took a deep breath. “Which means, I suppose, that I’m asking about the physical aspect.”

John gently removed her hand from his cheek and kissed each fingertip in turn. “I told you when that began, Marlena. On the night of

your anniversary with Roman, when you came to my plane to stop me from leaving town. But I guess you could argue that what happened there that night was the result of what began with the conversation we had on this pier,” he reasoned meditatively. “The only other time we were together was when Sami saw us at Titan.”

Marlena choked back a troubled, ironic laugh. “You know, for all the pain we apparently went through because of it, in the annals of the affairs of history, this one seems a little tame. The way everyone talks, you’d think we met at Motel 6 every morning for *years*.”

He stifled the inexplicable laugh that bubbled up upon hearing her aggrieved tone. “Yes, well, the repercussions were pretty severe…and long-lasting. Those two slips ended up hurting a lot of people, Doc.”

“And that’s what we regretted, isn’t it?” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his. “Not the love, not creating Belle – but the pain that Roman and Sami and everyone else went through.”

“Yes,” he agreed softly. “I never admitted it to you before, because I thought you’d think I was being selfish, but that *is* all I regretted.” He smiled ruefully. “I’ve had way too many wonderful dreams about those moments to ever say I would take them back, if it were even possible. And I was real ashamed of that for a very long time, knowing how much pain you’d gone through because of it.”

She bit her lip. “Did you ever think that maybe my guilt was so extreme because *I* couldn’t bring *myself* to regret what we had done?”

He gently rubbed her cheek. “No, Doc. You *did* regret it. To you, it was a betrayal of Roman and your family, and you wanted nothing more than for life to go back to the way it was before it happened.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, Sami’s reaction and Belle’s true paternity meant that could never happen. It didn’t mean you ever gave up, though. You fought for your marriage until the moment Roman took off in that plane. And you were devastated after he’d gone.”

She digested that silently for a moment. “But we got through it,” she said finally. “We got through it, God forgave us, the family forgave us, even *Roman* forgave us, if we can believe his letters. Isn’t it time for us to forgive ourselves?”

He gazed down into her hopeful eyes. ” Yes. I think it is, and I think we have.” He let out a frustrated sigh. “And I didn’t didn’t want this evening to be about remembering the pain of the past, Doc. I only brought up that night because I wanted you to understand what hearing you say you still loved me meant to me.” He entwined his fingers with hers. “I’d been so out of it, ever since Isabella died. Just going through the motions of living life, trying not to *feel* anything anymore. You brought me back to life, Marlena. You gave me life…you *give* me life, and meaning, and purpose.”

Her eyes filled. “Oh, John…”

He smiled as he reached to wipe away one wayward tear. “And in a way, that night was a new beginning for us, Doc, a beginning that finally led us here, to this pier, all these years later. That’s what this place has been for us, a place of beginnings and endings, both happy and painful. And I wanted to come here to celebrate one last beginning, the *happy* beginning of something that will never, ever end.”

He led her back over to her chair and waited nervously for her to seat herself. She looked up at him expectantly, her eyes widening even further as he knelt down next to her on one knee on the warped wooden boards, his gaze never leaving her face. She caught her breath as he reached into the pocket of his jacket with one hand, capturing her left hand with the other. “I have a question to ask you, Dr. Marlena Evans,” he murmured softly.

She swallowed anxiously. ” Yes?” she whispered, her eyes locked on the small jewelry box now clutched in his left hand. He snapped the lid open with his thumb and index finger, turning the box to reveal a

sparkling diamond and emerald engagement ring. It gleamed in the soft moonlight, as if lit by a fire from within.

“It’s beautiful, John…” she breathed.

“It could never be as beautiful as you are,” he replied, emotion clogging his voice. He cleared his throat and began again. “Now, I know you know this, Doc, but just in case I failed to make myself clear somehow, I want to say it again…I love you, Marlena. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in this world, now and forever. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I want to go to bed with you, wake up with you, spend my days with you, and raise our children with you…And someday I want to spoil our grandchildren with you and sit on a porch somewhere and rock in our rocking chairs together, so all the kids on our street will point at us and say, ‘There’s the old fuddy-duddy Blacks who’ve been married for about a million years’…”

Marlena laughed as joyful tears overflowed to stream down her cheeks. “All of that sounds wonderful, John.” She gazed down into his expectant face and raised a teasing eyebrow. “But I don’t think I actually heard a question anywhere in all that.”

John smiled, his eyes sparkling with love and laughter. “Oh, sorry, I guess you’re right. To the question, then…” He cleared his throat again and affected a solemn expression. “Dr. Marlena Evans, love of my life, queen of my heart and soul, captain of my destiny…would you do me the incredible honor of becoming my wife? I love you so much, Doc. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” she shouted, flinging her arms around his neck and propelling him backwards toward the edge of the pier. Sheer luck and baseball instincts were all that kept them from flying into the water, but Marlena didn’t notice. “Yes, yes, *yes*, *YES*!”

John managed to get his feet under him, and he pulled them both up to a standing position. Marlena finally relaxed her fierce hold on his neck; she pulled back to look up at him, a beaming smile on her face.

“Um, that’s a yes, in case you didn’t hear me.”

John grinned down at her. “Oh, I heard you. People in *China* heard you, Doc. But you know, it isn’t official until I put the ring on your finger.” His brow furrowed as he glanced down at the dock. “Uh-oh, where *is* the ring?”

A stricken look appeared on her face as she glanced over his shoulder toward the water behind him. “What? Oh, no, I didn’t-”

He cut her off with a quick kiss to the lips. “No, Doc, you didn’t.” He pulled the box from his pocket and snapped it open again with a flourish. She tried to frown at him, but the incredible happiness of the moment wouldn’t let her. He carefully removed the ring from its resting place and held it up for her to see. Tears filled her eyes as he drew her left hand toward him and placed the ring on the tip of her fourth finger.

John gazed into her eyes as he slid the ring home. “I love you, Doc.”

Marlena looked down at her finger, a wondrous expression on her face. “I love you, too, John. So incredibly much.”

He drew her into his arms and sealed their betrothal with a deep, languorous kiss.

***

Samantha Gene Brady was incredibly tired – the kind of tired that can only result from prolonged contact with three dementedly energetic small children. She’d finally gotten Brady and Belle to bed after repeated readings of the now utterly detested book “Goodnight, Moon”, a story she remembered loving as a child, and requesting from John on a nightly basis. He probably suggested it to them just to torture me, she thought darkly, staring down at the cap of brown hair that topped her sons small head. She – and he – were lying on the couch in the living room. Will’s customary bedtime had passed many hours ago, but he’d been unusually fussy, and his crying had

repeatedly awakened the two terrors upstairs. Sami had brought him down to the living room in hopes of rocking him to sleep before putting him back to bed. Unfortunately, her own fatigue had caused her to fall asleep on the couch even before Will had. She stared down at him, attempting to calculate the odds of successfully rising from the couch without waking him. Not good, she concluded, resigning herself to a night as a pillow and a tomorrow with a crick in her neck.

The rattle of a key in the front door lock caused her to tense and Will stirred restlessly. Sami couldn’t see the door from her position on the couch, but she wasn’t worried about burglars or bogeymen. It’s just Mom and John returning from their evening on the town, she thought, the confusing emotions that had tormented her all day once again rising to the fore. She had to give John credit – he’d informed her and Carrie of his intentions beforehand, something she knew he’d done more for her sake than for Carrie’s, as he must have realized that Carrie would be all for the marriage. His eyes had been full of trepidation as he’d outlined his plans, but Sami had resolutely refused to throw a tantrum, though a part of her wanted to do exactly that. She hadn’t gone with them to purchase the ring, and he had seemed to understand why she didn’t wish to do so, but she could tell that he was still wary of her reaction. Why not? I’m still a little wary of it myself. She resolved not to make a sound as they came in. Tomorrow would be soon enough to hear the news. She lay quietly on the couch as the door squeaked open.

“Shhh” her mother giggled as the door closed behind them.

“*I’m* not the one making noise,” John whispered back, laughter in his voice. A rattling noise broke the quiet, punctuated by a muffled *Damn* from John.

“Well, *I’m* not the one running into furniture,” Marlena laughed. “What did that coat rack ever do to you?”

“Just give me your coat,” John whispered in a martyred tone.

That elicited another giggle. “Why, Mr. Black, haven’t you had enough yet? I think I’ll just keep this on until we get up to the bedroom.”

A low chuckle. “You didn’t leave the dress in the car, did you?”

“Do I look like I’m carrying it? Don’t give me that superior look, *I’m* wearing *your* shirt, and I’ll bet you have no idea where your tie and vest are.”

“I know exactly where they are…I think. I used the vest to cover up the seat belt holders and the tie is tied around the gearshift.”

Another low bout of laughter, punctuated by a kiss. “I can’t believe we did that,” Marlena murmured in a less-than-regretful tone. “What if someone had seen us? What if the *police* had seen us?”

“I used to *be* the police, remember? I’m sure they wouldn’t have hauled in one of Salem’s former finest just for a little indecent exposure.”

“A *little*,” Marlena replied incredulously. “You were buck naked in the back seat of your car, Mr. Black!”

“Well, I wasn’t alone, was I?” John shot back, merriment tingeing his voice. “I can see the headlines now – ‘World-Renowned Psychiatrist Discovered Naked as a Jaybird in Industrialists Car’. You know, I bet that would be really good for business.”

“Yours or mine?” Marlena asked, laughing. “I can just picture Reilly’s reaction to *that*. I don’t think it would fall under his idea of proper professional behavior.”

“Who cares?” John replied philosophically. “We were simply celebrating a wonderful occasion in a time-honored way…and, anyway, *you* were the one who couldn’t wait til we got home.”

“I was, was I? Well, you know what? I think that little bit of exercise

was enough to tide me over until the wedding. What do you think of next June as a wedding date?”

“Not on your life,” John growled, pulling her into his arms. Silence descended, punctuated by soft moans and sighs. Sami felt her face redden. She’d certainly had no illusions about the sex lives of her parents, whether her mother and father or her mother and John. But as a child she’d been careful to make a beeline in the opposite direction upon encountering ‘mushy stuff’. Unfortunately, her own decision to remain silent as they’d entered had made her an inadvertent voyeur. She heard the sound of some sort of material falling to the floor, and faced the uncomfortable realization that she might become a reluctant witness to John and Marlena in flagrante delicto. She squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to listen.

“How about a bed this time, Doc?” John asked in a voice roughened by passion.

“Why not?” she muttered thickly, then laughed as he swept her up into his arms. “Someday you’re going to throw your back out doing that.”

“Never!” he replied cheerfully, starting up the steps. Sami could see them now over the back of the couch, and felt a moment’s trepidation that her mother would glimpse her over Johns shoulder. She needn’t have worried. She watched as her mother captured John’s lips in a voracious kiss, almost causing him to stumble back, stunned by the intensity. John wore only a pair of dress pants, slung low on his hips, and though his upper body blocked Sami’s view of her mother, it looked as though she wore nothing at all. Her head was thrown back, an expression of such exquisite passion on her face that Sami felt mildly envious. She watched them ascend the stairs until John’s feet disappeared from sight.

She looked down at her son. “Whew, that was close, wasn’t it, Will?” she whispered softly. He turned his head to look up at her, his sleepy eyes shining in the darkened room. “Guess he really did it,” she

murmured, cradling him in her arms as she struggled into a sitting position. “Sounds like grandma’s getting married. Tell me, what do *you* think about that?”

Will blinked up at her solemnly and tugged on a lock of her hair. “You

like John, don’t you, sweetie?” she asked, recalling how much Will
loved to play ‘airplane’ with him. Will seemed to prefer John’s
company to that of all other grownup males, Austin and Lucas
excepted. That thought suddenly saddened her as she realized her
father would have been a total stranger to Will had he managed to find
the time to come home before he died. Sami looked down into her
son’s little face. “That’s not John’s fault, though, is it?” she murmured,
brushing his hair into some semblance of order. “Your grandpa could
have met you any time he wanted.” But apparently he didn’t want to,
she added silently, her heart constricting. “You won’t miss out on
anything, though,” she reassured Will softly. “You have lots of men in
the family who love you, who’ll take you to baseball games and teach
you to fish…you have a wonderful daddy, a great-grandpa, and great-
uncles, and uncles…” She sighed, finally conceding to the inevitable. A

small smile even graced her lips. “And you have a grandpa John,
who’s going to marry grandma soon. You’ll like that, won’t you?” she
asked, holding him up in front of her. He squirmed and chortled
happily.
Chapter 48
John awoke in a very good mood the morning after his engagement dinner. Scratch that, he thought, staring down his chest at the top of a tousled mane of blond hair. I’m in a *great* mood.

As if his ruminations had been uttered aloud, Marlena glanced up from her work, which she had been pursuing with admirable diligence, and grinned at him. “Ah, you’re awake, my gorgeous fiance,” she purred. “That’s good. As fun as this has been, it’s much more interesting when *you* are awake to participate.” She lowered her head again and rained soft kisses across his chest.

“Come here,” he growled, pulling her toward him. “No fair, Doc,” he said, pausing to give her a thorough good morning kiss. “Ravishing my

body while I’m not awake to protest.”

“Your body didn’t seem to mind,” she objected with sparkling eyes. “Are you protesting now? ‘Cause I could stop, you know.” She made as if to pull herself from his arms, then laughed as he crushed her to his chest.

“Nope. You started this. You have to finish it.”

Marlena kissed the tip of his nose and murmured, “Hmmm, I suppose I could do that.” She captured his lips and entwined her tongue with his as her hands roamed across his muscled shoulders. John let out a loud moan of pleasure. The squeak of the door opening was lost in the stormy haze of their mutual desire.

“Mommy?”

Belle’s puzzled little voice was more effective than an ocean of ice water would have been. Marlena leapt off of John as if burned by an electrical shock. She barely managed to remember to clutch the sheet to her chest as she twisted around to regard her youngest child. “Belle? My goodness, sweetheart, what are you doing in here?” Her cheeks glowed bright red with embarrassment.

John chuckled at her obvious discomfiture, and she elbowed him sharply in the ribs. “Ouch, Doc. Don’t *do* that,” he muttered, grabbing for the other end of the sheet in a futile effort to preserve his own modesty. “I think we’re going to have to establish a few house rules,” he murmured under his breath.

Marlena grimaced her agreement even as she held out her hand toward Belle. “Come here, honey. Is something the matter?”

Belle regarded them both with wide eyes as she clambered up onto the bed. “Daddy sick?” she asked.

It was John’s turn to blush as he realized that his moan of pleasure had been the reason for her intrusion. Marlena giggled, and he shot

her a dirty look. “No, honey, I’m just fine. Mommy was just torturing me. It’s nothing for you to worry about.”

Belle frowned. “Torcher?”

John pulled his pillow over his lap and hauled his daughter up against his chest. “Just something Mommies do. You’ll find out someday. Now tell Daddy what you’re doing up so early.”

She grinned up at him as she tugged at the hairs on his chest. “It’s a s’prise. Sami said.”

They looked up as a groan sounded from the doorway and discovered

Sami and Brady standing in the hallway holding two trays of breakfast.

Brady looked disgusted. “Aw, Belle, you ruined it.”

Belle frowned. “Daddy was hurt. Momma torched him.”

“Tortured, Belle,” Marlena corrected automatically, then blushed anew as she caught the expression on Sami’s face. “Never mind. Belle said you have a surprise for us. Is it that delicious-looking breakfast?”

“Uh-huh,” Brady replied as he tried to climb up on the bed, still clutching the tray. John rescued his breakfast from certain peril as Belle crawled from his lap to nestle between he and Marlena.

“Pancakes, huh? You know, Slugger, I don’t believe I ever imparted to you the secret of making the Brady pancakes. Did you and Belle have some help?”

“Mmm-hmm,” his son replied, dipping a finger into the syrup. “Sami made ’em. I did toast, and Belle did juice.”

Marlena smiled. “Well, it looks absolutely delicious. All three of you should be very proud.” She chewed a forkful of pancakes and nodded toward Sami, swallowing with a small murmur of pleasure. “You know, Sami, I still have no idea how you got to be such a gourmet cook with

as bad of examples as your parents, but I definitely like the result.”

“Thanks,” Sami said, sitting down gingerly on the end of the bed. “I learned a lot from Grandma, I guess.” A small silence ensued.

“Where’s the s’prise?” Belle demanded, oblivious to any tension in the room.

Marlena’s brow furrowed. “What? I thought breakfast was a surprise for *us*?”

Brady reached over John’s arm and helped himself to a butter-drenched piece of toast. “Sami said we should make a surprise for you ’cause you had one for us, and it was really cool.”

John glanced up at Sami and raised an inquiring brow. “Sami?”

She flushed slightly and looked down at the rumpled comforter. “Yeah, well, Will couldn’t sleep last night and he was keeping the munchkins awake, so I took him downstairs. We were lying on the couch when you…er, came home.” She finally looked up and her red cheeks couldn’t hide the amused twinkle in her eyes. “I didn’t see anything, though. Honest.”

John choked on a bite of pancake and Marlena slapped his back helpfully – if a bit harder than strictly necessary. “Oh, really?” he finally managed to ask.

Sami bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing. “Anyway, I heard what Mom’s answer was…not that I ever really doubted it, and I figured you would want to tell the kids. So…” she concluded, waving a hand toward their trays.

“Thank you, sweetie,” Marlena replied gravely, catching Sami’s hand in hers. “This was incredibly thoughtful of you.”

“So where *is* it?” Brady demanded, bouncing up and down on the

mattress.

John grabbed his son and tackled him into a pillow, tickling his ribs until he dissolved in a spate of giggles. “It’s not an *it*, Brady. It’s…” he looked up at Marlena, “well, it’s a celebration, I guess. I asked your mother a very important question last night, and her answer was yes.”

Brady stopped squirming and looked up at Marlena, wide-eyed. “Are we gettin’ a dog?”

Marlena grinned down at him and ruffled his hair. “Better than that.”

“A *big* dog?” he amended hopefully.

She shook her head and reached over to caress his cheek. “No, honey, Daddy didn’t ask me if we could get a dog. He asked me to marry him. And I told him I would.”

Brady and Belle stared up at them, their faces frozen in identical expressions of surprised confusion. “You’re goin’ to marry Daddy?” Belle asked, her brow furrowed.

“Yes, she is,” John replied, pulling their daughter into his lap. “Isn’t that wonderful, sweetie?”

Her expression was wary. “Does that mean you won’t ever hafta live somewhere else anymore? And Mommy won’t ever hafta go away again?”

Marlena felt her heart constrict. She swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat and reached out to caress her daughter’s cheek. “We’re all going to live together from now on, honey. We’re a family, and families belong together.”

Brady inched into her lap and looked up at her solemnly. “Does it mean that you’ll be my Momma forever now?”

She hugged him tightly. “I’m already your Momma, Brady. When we get married, Daddy will be my husband, but you’re my son already. Now and forever.”

Brady looked over at Belle, who stared back at him and bit her lip uncertainly. He nodded slowly, and Belle copied the movement. Then Brady turned to Marlena and twined his arms around her neck in a fierce hug. “Okay,” he whispered. “I love you, Momma.”

Marlena blinked back sudden tears and hugged him tight. “I love you, too, baby.”

Belle watched them for a moment, then glanced up at her father. She grabbed his arm and tugged on it as she crawled toward her mother and her brother. She nudged Brady with her elbow and scooted into her mother’s lap, pulling her father into a family hug. John wrapped his arms around Marlena and his children and squeezed his eyes shut, sending a quick thank-you up to God.

Marlena looked up from her two youngest children to see Sami watching them with a wistful expression on her face. She held out her hand, and Sami regarded it warily for a moment, before finally reaching out and squeezing her fingers gingerly. “I love *you*, baby,” Marlena murmured.

Sami smiled and nodded.

***

“Land shark!” Carrie called out as she knocked on the open door to John’s office.”

He looked up with a grin. “Isn’t that supposed to be ‘Candygram!’?”

“Actually,” she confided, swinging the garment bag down from over her shoulder, “I guess it should really be ‘Delivery!'” She patted the bag. “I brought the costumes I chose for you and Marlena to wear to

the party tonight.”

“Great,” he replied, reaching for the hanger. She snatched it back with a grin and an admonishing finger, and he laughed. “You didn’t have to bring them to me yourself, though. I could have picked them up on my way home.”

She shrugged. “That’s okay, I wanted to do it.” She grinned impishly. “For one thing, it lets me probe very subtlely into the events of last evening. I don’t suppose you have any *news* or anything?”

“Oh, that was *very* subtle, I’m really impressed,” John laughed. “And I suppose since you’ve gone to all this trouble, I shouldn’t keep you in suspense.” He leaned forward and lowered his voice dramatically. “I *did* ask Marlena to marry me, and she said…drum roll, please…she said…YES!”

Carrie paused to lay the garment bag on a chair, then leapt into John’s arms, hugging him so hard she nearly strangled him. “I *knew* she would. I knew it! Oh, John, this is so incredibly wonderful! I can’t wait until your wedding!”

He smiled into her shining hair. “I’m pretty stoked about it myself.”

She pulled back in his arms and grinned up at him. “I can just imagine. You two have waited so long to be together. I’m really happy for you.” She glanced over his shoulder at the diamond on her own finger. “So, did she like the ring we picked out?”

“I *think* so. I mean, she didn’t throw it in the river or anything.”

“Like she ever would have. She must be on cloud nine.” Her lip quirked. “I can’t believe that you and I are engaged at the same time, can you? I can remember not so long ago when you were chaperoning that high school dance and glaring at poor Julio Ramirez like he was a deranged killer or something instead of just my date.”

He hugged her again. “Well, you were my little girl, and I had to protect you.”

She bit her lip and squeezed him tight, blinking back sudden tears. “Yeah, well, just promise me you won’t give Austin as hard a time at the party tonight. He’s going to make an honest woman of me in just a couple of weeks, I swear.”

John let go of her and tipped her chin up with his index finger. “You got it, Punkin.” He regarded her silently for a moment. “So I guess that means things are better between the two of you?”

Carrie shrugged. “I guess. He’s accepted my decision about quitting Countess Wilhemina, and he told Kate to quit bugging me about it. And he’s finally accepted that he was wrong about me and Mike being more than friends.” She frowned slightly. “We’ve fought so long and so hard to be together, I can’t believe he had that little faith in me, but I guess everything with Sami sort of undermined his confidence.” Her frown faded. “But all of that is over now. And there’s nothing else standing in our way.”

“Well, I’m glad,” John replied. “You know how important your happiness is to me, don’t you?”

She nodded. “I do, John. That means a lot to me. And I’m so happy for you and Marlena.” She laughed. “I’m happy for the whole family, actually. It seems like things are finally going right for the Brady clan.” She jerked a thumb toward the garment bag. “So, are you going to announce your engagement at the party tonight?”

He raised his brows. “That’s not a bad idea, actually. Just about everyone we know will be there, and…” His voice trailed off as an unhappy expression crossed his face.

“What?” Carrie asked anxiously.

John ducked his head guiltily. “I was just thinking…Kristen will

probably be there tonight.”

She frowned. “You think so? So soon after the deaths of her mother and Peter?”

He bit his lip. “Well, the Horton Center is a very important offshoot of the hospital, and she *is* one of the directors – at least nominally. Not that either of us have really been giving it the attention that it deserves. But I can’t imagine she’d miss a fundraiser this important, since some of the money it’ll raise to fight AIDS will go to the kids at the Center.”

“You’re probably right,” Carrie sighed. “And I don’t suppose it would be fair to her for her to find out you’re marrying Marlena in front of everyone else.”

“No, John replied, chagrined. “It wouldn’t. I guess I should go see her before the party, but that leaves me on a pretty tight schedule. Doc promised Jonah and Lexie that we’d be over early to help out, and she’s got to have time to change into her costume.”

“I could take it to her,” she offered. “I’ll tell her what you’re doing, and if you’re not done in time, she could ride over with Jonah or Mike. I know she’d understand why you have to do this.”

He glanced down at his watch. “I guess that’ll have to do. She’s in a meeting right now, so I’ll give her a call later, but I’d appreciate you taking her the costume. And tell her not to ditch Frank, okay? I know she doesn’t like having a bodyguard, and she doesn’t have to ride with him, but he should know what’s going on.”

“Will do,” she said, standing on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I’ll see you at the party then.” She unzipped the garment bag and pulled one of the hangers out, peeking under the plastic to make sure she’d chosen the correct costume. She grinned and held it up triumphantly; then her grin faded. “Good luck at Kristen’s.”

“Thanks.”

***

“Well, you and Reilly seem to be getting along a little better,” Laura commented to Marlena as they walked toward the nurses’ desk to check their messages. “He’s stopped giving you the death glare, anyway.”

Marlena laughed. “We worked out a few things, and I apologized for the trouble John made for him with the Board of Directors. We decided to begin our professional association anew. I have a really good feeling about it, actually.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Laura murmured, distracted by Marlena’s hand as it rested on the counter. “I can’t get over that *rock* you’re wearing. I guess being in love with a zillionaire has its perks.”

Marlena grinned at her. “I *am* marrying him for his money, you know.” Her smile faded and she bit her lip. “How’s Jack’s defense coming? Is Jen doing okay?”

Laura sighed and averted her eyes. “Mickey’s trying to be optimistic, but, frankly, the evidence is pretty damning, and Jack’s leaning toward pleading guilty just to spare Jen the pain of a trial. Jen’s against it, of course, and Mickey mentioned bringing in some help to plead Jack’s case.” She sighed again. “I don’t know, Marlena. I just don’t see how this can end without Jack going to jail.”

Marlena squeezed her hand. “If there’s anything John or I can do, you let us know, all right?”

Laura nodded gratefully. “I will. I’d better go home and change for the party. Jonah roped me into overseeing the catering setup, so I have to be there pretty early.”

“He drafted us, too, but I don’t know what we’ll be doing. And I still

have to get my costume from Carrie.”

“Did somebody say costume?” Carrie asked as she walked toward them, the garment back hanging over her shoulder. She presented it to Marlena with a flourish. “Your outfit, madame. Accessories included. The shoes are at the bottom.”

Marlena screwed up her brow in mock concentration. “So it comes with *shoes*, hmmm? That narrows down the possibilities a bit.”

Laura laughed. “On that note, I think I’ll go change into my own blast from the past. I’ll see the two of you tonight, okay?”

They nodded and waved goodbye. Once she was gone, Carrie turned to Marlena and grabbed her left hand. “Oooh,” she said, widening her eyes theatrically. “Shiny!”

Marlena chuckled and snatched her hand away. “Very funny, sweetie. I happen to know that you’ve already *seen* the ring, thank you very much.”

Carrie beamed at her happily. “John’s feet never touched the ground today. I figured that had to mean you said yes even before he confirmed it.”

Marlena held out her hand and regarded her ring appreciatively. “Did you have any doubt?”

“Oh, not really.” Carrie cleared her throat. “I, um, mentioned something to him about maybe announcing the engagement to everyone at the party tonight. He thought it was a great idea, except-”

Marlena looked up at her. “Except what?”

Carrie shrugged uncomfortably. “Except he didn’t want Kristen to find out that way.”

“Oh, right,” Marlena replied, sighing. “That would be a bit cruel, wouldn’t it?” She shook her head tiredly. “I know she’s been having a really hard time of it ever since John left her, and I don’t *mean* to be insensitive, but sometimes I completely forget about her. Goodness, that sounds horrible, doesn’t it?”

“Of course not,” Carrie reassured her. “I imagine John feels exactly the same way. But he’s trying to do right by her, and I know he’ll be a good father to the baby.” She fell silent for a moment, then asked, “Does that bother you at all?”

Marlena regarded her solemnly. “Honestly?” Carrie nodded. “A little bit. Because I have this picture in my head, you see – a picture of the life John and I and all of you kids will have together. And for some reason, I have a hard time putting Kristen’s baby in that picture.”

“I understand,” Carrie replied. “Maybe it’s just that the baby doesn’t seem real yet. Maybe you’ll feel differently after it’s born.”

“Maybe…” Marlena raised a brow toward the garment bag. “So, when do I finally get to see what I’m wearing?”

Carrie grinned. “When you’re ready to get changed, I guess. John said to tell you he’d try to be finished at Kristen’s in time to come pick you up and take you to help out with the party, but if he can’t, Jonah or Mike could probably give you a ride. And he said not to ditch Frank, and to tell him what was up.”

“Okay, okay, no ditching, I promise,” she sighed. “Hey, what outfit did you end up getting for Mike?”

Carrie grinned. “You’ll just have to wait and see like everyone else. But, you know what’s funny? It’s the one Austin wanted to get, but it hadn’t been returned to the shop when we placed our orders. It came in an hour before Mike and I showed up yesterday. And he looks great in it.” She glanced down at her watch. “And I’m really running late now. I’d better go change into my own costume.” She kissed

Marlena’s cheek. “See you later, fellow engaged person.”

“See you later, honey.”

***
Kristen ran a pick through her wet hair as she descended the stairs. Where the hell is Aliana, anyway? she thought as the doorbell pealed again. She opened the front door to reveal Vivian and Ivan. “”Oh, it’s you. What are you doing here?”

Vivian glanced at Ivan. “We just wanted to make sure we wouldn’t be walking into the middle of World War III by attending this party tonight. If you’re planning on exploding someone, or beheading someone with a guillotine, we’d really rather be elsewhere.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kristen retorted contemptuously. “I am *not* Stefano. I do know the meaning of the word ‘subtle’.”

Vivian glanced down at her bulging pregnancy pillow and refrained from comment. She didn’t have to utter a word, anyway – her eyebrows said it all. “Fine, whatever you say. But tonight is still the night, isn’t it?”

“Stop fishing, Vivian,” Kristen replied, frowning. Then she sighed. “Oh, all right, yes, tonight is still the night, though I’m not sure exactly when my little bomb will drop. I’m waiting for my contact to call me with the final word.” She rested her hand on her protruding foam belly. “This had better work,” she muttered darkly.

“Did you find the information we got for you useful?” Vivian persisted. “I still don’t see how knowing what John and Marlena’s costumes are going to be will help you very much.”

“You *will*, Vivian, if you’d just learn to be a tiny bit patient. Shouldn’t you and Ivan be running home to change about now? Aren’t you afraid of what Kate might be doing to your costumes?”

Vivian frowned – she hadn’t thought of that. “You’re right. There’s no

telling what that idiot woman will do. Let’s go, Ivan.”

Ivan looked visibly relieved as he turned to open the front door again. When the door swung wide to reveal John Black, knuckles poised pre-knock, Ivan jumped back, muttering a curse in Czech under his breath.

“Vivian? Ivan?” John raised a quizzical eyebrow and looked at them expectantly. “What are you doing here?”

“They’re leaving,” Kristen said hurriedly, shooing them out the door even as she tugged on John’s arm to urge him inside. “Just some Titan business they wanted to go over. Nothing important.”

“Oh,” John replied, frowning at their retreating backs until Kristen shut the door behind them.

She turned toward him and offered him a bright smile. “It’s so good to see you, John. Would you like something to drink? I could make us some tea.”

“Um, no thanks, I don’t want you to go to any trouble.” He took a deep breath. “I just need to talk to you for a few minutes. I have some news that concerns you, and I wanted to be sure I was the one who told you.”

Kristen swallowed nervously. Could he know? Did he find out what I’m up to somehow? “Told me what?” she asked in a small voice.
John heard the trepidation in her voice and cursed himself for repeatedly inflicting pain on someone who’d never done anything to deserve it. He averted his gaze guiltily. “Are you going to the party tonight?”

Kristen frowned. What does *that* have to do with anything? “Yes, of course, I’m going. It’s a big night for the Horton Center.”

He nodded, visibly uncomfortable, still refusing to look at her. “Uh, got a costume?”

“Yes, actually. I finally managed to cobble something together this afternoon, since I couldn’t go as what I had originally planned.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What was that?”

She gazed straight into his eyes and lied unblinkingly. “Well, Mom, Peter and I were going as Endora, Darren and Samantha from Bewitched.” He stiffened and looked as though he wished he hadn’t asked. Sensing vulnerability, Kristen pressed her point. “But it doesn’t make sense to have a Samantha without the other two, since the outfit is just that of a housewife. Besides, I don’t think I could handle it. We were all really excited about it.”

He nodded miserably. She smiled inwardly. “So, what about you? What are you going as?”

He shrugged. “I don’t exactly know yet – my costume’s out in the car. Carrie brought it by this afternoon, but I haven’t looked at it yet. She picked them out as a surprise for me and Marlena.”

Kristen winced, bit her lip, and looked away. “Oh…”

“I’m sorry, Kristen,” John said, sighing. “The last thing I want to do is to keep hurting you this way. I know hearing about Doc and me isn’t easy for you.”

“I just want you to be happy, John,” she declared bravely. “You and the baby are all that matter to me in this world.”

“Um, thanks,” he said, not sounding at all appreciative. “Anyway, that’s why I came by. I have some news about Doc and me.”

News? But my bombshell hasn’t yet arrived? What else could it be?

“News?” she managed to ask. It came out as a squeak. She twisted the ring on her left hand nervously.
John’s gaze caught on the flashing diamond and he sighed again as he realized how little she’d actually accepted the end of their relationship. “Yes. News. Marlena and I are going to make an announcement at the party tonight, and I wanted to prepare you ahead of time.”

“Announcement?” she parroted again, suddenly unable to form a coherent thought.

“Yes,” he affirmed quietly. “I asked Marlena to marry me last night. And she said yes.”

Kristen winced and squeezed her eyes shut, turning her back on him.

“I see,” she managed to say.

He was quiet for a moment. “You must have seen this coming, Kristen,” he finally said. “You must have know that was where things were leading.”

“Maybe I didn’t want to see it,” she replied softly.

He didn’t know what to say.

***

Lexie grimaced at Marlena and Nurse Sandene as they stood in front of the nurses’ station. “I’m sorry, Marlena, I’d love to give you a ride, but my car is absolutely *packed* with stuff for the party. There’s barely enough room for me in the front seat, let alone a passenger. But I tell you what, I’ll call Abe and ask if he can swing by to pick you up.”

“No, that’s okay,” Marlena replied. “I’ll just ask Jonah or Mike. Don’t

worry about it, I’ll find someone.”

Lexie glanced at her watch. “Damn. I’m *so* late, I have *got* to go. I’ll see you at the party, Marlena.”

“Bye.” Marlena watched her hurry down the hallway, then turned to Paulette with a bemused smile on her face. “Tell me, what *does* Cinderella do when her pumpkin is in the shop?”

Paulette smiled sympathetically. “I’d offer you a ride, but I’m not getting off until after the party’s already started. Would you like me to page Dr. Horton or Dr. Carver? I’m sure they’d love to help you out.” The smile froze on her face as something over Marlena’s shoulder caught her eye.

“Paulette, what-?” Marlena asked, spinning around to look behind her.

Her briefcase plummeted to the floor and her mouth opened in shock as a deep voice spoke: “Hello Marlena” Chapter 49

Marlena stared upward, openmouthed with shock as her briefcase slipped from nerveless fingers to clatter to the floor. From behind her, Paulette murmured, “Oh, my God, it *can’t* be…”

The tall, handsome man standing before them offered a charming smile. “Oh, but it is.” His eyes twinkled down at Marlena. “So, don’t I get a hello from my favorite ex-wife?”

***

The living room of the DiMera mansion was so eerily quiet that John could hear the harsh sound of Kristen’s labored breathing in the stillness. He regarded her slumped shoulders guiltily; he hadn’t meant to hurt her with the news of his and Marlena’s engagement, but it was obvious that she was upset in the extreme. “Kristen?” he ventured tentatively. “Are you all right?”

Kristen squeezed her eyes shut and bit back an angry retort. “I’m fine,” she finally muttered in a strangled voice. “Just a little surprised, that’s all.”

“Surprised…” he murmured softly, perplexed. “Why? I thought I made it clear to you that my feelings for Marlena-”

“It’s not *your* feelings I was concerned about,” Kristen interjected, turning to face him. “I just find it surprising that you would ask her to marry you while she still has no memory of the past ten years. Don’t you think that’s a little unfair, John? What if she decides she doesn’t want to be with you once she remembers? She might resent you for taking advantage of what happened to her.”

He tried to squelch an automatically dismissive smile. “I’m not worried about that, Kristen,” he said finally. “When and if Doc gets her memory back, it won’t change anything between us.” He regarded her silently for a moment, then, in a tone of utter finality, added, “Nothing could.”

Kristen turned away again, scowling bitterly at the confidence she heard in his tone. “That’s a pretty definite statement, John…but I guess with Roman gone, you don’t really have much to worry about, huh?”

“Kristen!” he exclaimed, shocked.

She cursed inwardly. “I didn’t mean that the way it came out, John. I just meant…well, he *was* the only person to successfully come between the two of you, wasn’t he? After all, *he* left Marlena, not the other way around. And now that he won’t be coming back ever again…”

“I never wanted anything to happen to Roman,” John replied stiffly. “I cared about him a lot, hard as it may seem for you to believe. And the Bradys mean too much to me for me to ever want them to go through that kind of pain ever again.”

Kristen bowed her head and looked down at the engagement ring she

still wore. She sighed. “I know, John. I know how much they mean to you. After all, they’re your family, in every way but blood.” She crossed her arms over her chest and hunched her shoulders miserably. “I guess maybe I’m just missing *my* family tonight. It was going to be hard enough attending this party without them after we’d planned to go together…but *now*…”

John swallowed guiltily. “I’m sorry, Kristen. The last thing I ever wanted to do was to make this time in your life even more difficult than it already is. That’s why I wanted to tell you myself, before you heard it from anyone else.”

She turned to him with hopeful, beseeching eyes. “Could you possibly-

” she began hesitantly. “Could you maybe put off making the announcement until after the party? I just don’t think I could stand being an object of pity for the entire night – everyone watching me, wondering how I’m *bearing up*. Maybe you could wait and tell everyone tomorrow.”

His brow furrowed thoughtfully; then he shook his head. “I don’t think that would work, Kristen. Too many people know about it already. Sami and Carrie knew I was going to propose before I even asked her, and I’m sure that means Austin, Lucas, Mom and Pop know by now. And Doc probably told everyone at the hospital today, and they’ll all be at the party.” He grimaced regretfully. “I’m sorry, Kristen, but the announcement will probably be more of a formality than a surprise. Waiting until tomorrow wouldn’t change that.”

Damn! Kristen thought. My timing is horrible lately. Just when I’m about to launch a brilliant attack, *this* happens. She cleared her throat. “I understand. I guess I’ll just have to…get through it.” She blinked back noble tears. “Somehow.”

John’s expression of utter guilt and misery made her smile inwardly. It’s not over yet…it doesn’t really matter if you and Marlena *are* engaged. The only thing that matters is that she will *never* be your

wife again. Never! She set her jaw. “Thanks for the warning, John. I really do appreciate it.”

He looked even guiltier upon hearing that, if it were possible. “I really do want to make this easier for you, Kristen,” he vowed sincerely. “Isn’t there anything at all that I can do?”

Kristen bit her lip. “I don’t think so…except-…No, never mind.”

“What? Tell me.”

She sighed. “Well, I was just thinking that it would be a lot easier for me if everyone could see that I’m handling all this really well, and that they don’t need to feel sorry for me. The last thing in the world I want is pity.”

He nodded. “How can I help?”

She took a deep breath. “Could you give me a ride to the party?” She patted her bulging stomach. “I was going to call a cab, anyway, because it makes me nervous to drive when the baby’s so active. But if I came with you, then everyone would see that I’m doing just fine and they don’t need to feel sorry for me. I just want them to know that I’m handling it.”

“Yes, you are,” he replied, his tone tinged with admiration. “All right, if you think it will do any good, I’ll give you a ride over. But Sami’s coming back in the car with us after the party, so the ride home might be a tight fit.”

“Oh, I can take a cab home,” she assured him airily. “After we walk into the Penthouse Grill together, I won’t need you any more, don’t worry. I’ll have made my point.” It’s just not the point you think I’ll be making…

He nodded again. “Okay, that’s fine then. I just need to call Doc, and…do you have a place I could change? I’ll just run out to the car

and grab my costume.”

“Sure,” she replied. “Take the guest bedroom. You know where it is.”

“I’ll be right back.”

Kristen grinned delightedly as the front door slammed shut. “Indeed you will, man of mine. You *will* be back…permanently.” She looked down at her ring again and laughed. “Tonight’s the night. Let the fireworks begin!”

***

Marlena stood frozen in her tracks.

The man in front of her laughed softly. “Well, there’s a sight you don’t see every day.” He looked up at Paulette. “Dr. Marlena Evans Craig Brady, speechless.”

Paulette coughed. “I can’t say I blame her,” she finally managed. She offered him a small smile as she quickly gathered up her charts and left the nurses station.

“Don?” Marlena murmured softly, reaching out with a tentative hand to touch his suit jacket. “Is it really you?”

“It’s really me, kiddo,” he replied, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Don’t let all the gray fool you. It really is your favorite ex-lawyer-slash-husband.”

A beaming smile transformed her face, and she threw herself into his arms. “Don! Oh, my goodness, it’s so *wonderful* to see you!”

Don laughed as he squeezed her tightly. “Is it really? For a minute there, you looked like you were less than thrilled.”

“Of course not, Don. I was just surprised, that’s all. It’s been so long.”

Don gave her one last squeeze before letting go. He looked down into her eyes, his smile fading into solemnity. “Longer for me than for you, I heard,” he said quietly. “Mickey told me everything that happened.”

“*Mickey* did? Oh-” she said, snapping her fingers, “You must be the legal help for Jack that Laura told me about.”

He nodded. “Yes, Mickey called and asked for some help with the case. When he told me what was going on with you, I thought a personal visit was in order.” He reached out to gently cup her cheek. “Are you all right, Marlena? I know losing your baby must have been hard for you.”

Tears filled her eyes at his gentle tone. She knew he must have been thinking of D.J., as she was, and the understanding in his voice was sweet to hear. Though it had been years since he’d accused her of causing D.J.’s death, that old wound still ached upon occasion, and the sympathy in his voice was a soothing balm.

She took a deep breath. “It was…It was very hard. And losing Roman so soon after that…” Her voice trailed off momentarily, and she frowned. “Did Mickey tell you about-”

“The amnesia?” he interjected, nodding. “Yes. That’s why I said what I did about it being longer for me than for you. I’m sorry, Marlena.”

“Thank you,” she replied simply. “But I really am all right.” She raised an eyebrow. “I guess that means we never saw each other after I escaped from Stefano five years ago, then.”

He shook his head regretfully. “No. We talked on the phone every once in a while for the first couple of years, but we really lost touch after that. The last time we talked, Belle had just been born, and you were very happy. And I was happy for you.” He cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I was sorry to hear about the divorce. I couldn’t believe that you and Roman…”

Marlena averted her eyes. “Yes, well, I find all of that a little hard to believe myself. When I woke up in that hospital bed after escaping from Stefano, I still believed John was Roman, and I didn’t find out differently for quite a while. And even after I found out the truth, Roman wasn’t *here* for me to see, and touch, and talk with. I suppose in some ways he was never really alive again in my mind. And hearing about all the horribly painful things that happened between us…it’s very difficult for me to picture. So after John told me the truth, I just…oh, I don’t know.” She sighed. “And now Roman really *is* dead, and I’ll never know…”

“What might have been?” Don finished.

She nodded slowly. “I suppose. Not that I think things necessarily would have turned out differently than they have. I love John very much, and we’re incredibly happy together.”

Don smiled. “That’s good, then.”

Marlena raised an eyebrow. “That’s right, you never met John, did you? You left town before he showed up.”

He nodded. “No, I never met him, but I did speak with him over the phone a few times after you…um, when he answered when I called to check in on Carrie. He seemed like a nice guy.”

“Oh, he is,” Marlena assured him. “He’s incredibly nice, and handsome, and smart, and funny. He’s a great father and a wonderful friend and-”

Don cut her off, laughing. “Okay, okay, I get the picture, you don’t have to rub it in.”

She grinned and held out her left hand. “How’s this for rubbing it in?” she asked happily as he perused her ring with a low whistle of appreciation. “We’re engaged! He asked me to marry him last night.”

Don slapped the side of his head theatrically. “Damn. *One* day too late. I always did have horrible timing.”

Marlena giggled. “Oh, right, you didn’t come here to tell me you’ve been pining away for me all these years, did you? Because I’ll tell you right now, Donald Jeremiah Craig – I’d never believe it. No way could the women of the world resist chasing after you.”

“Just the women of Chicago, I’ll have you know,” he replied indignantly. “And I never said I lacked for female companionship, but you’re a pretty hard act to follow, Dr. Evans.”

She grinned impishly. “You’d better believe it, buddy. I-” The beep of her pager interrupted her. She grimaced as she checked the number. “Sorry, I need to take this,” she murmured, reaching for the phone on the counter and dialing for an outside line.

He nodded, regarding her from under lowered lashes as she made her call. She was thinner than he remembered, the always- fashionable clothes hanging loosely on her frame. Well, that was to be expected after all she’d been through. But her beautiful face remained the same

– striking high cheekbones, sensuous lips, deep, soulful eyes that could speak without words. The passage of the years had been infinitely kinder to her than to him…not that a few minor changes weren’t evident. Her hair was a little brighter, her nails a little shorter. Practical, he thought, remembering the toddlers she still had living at home. She’d cut her nails just like that after D.J. was born, so consumed with the project of motherhood that she’d deemed them irrelevant. He felt a pang of regret at the memory of their son, taken from them so tragically early.

The sound of her soft voice brought him out of his nostalgic reverie. “Hi, sweetheart, is something wrong? Carrie said you were going over to Kristen’s.”

“I did,” John replied into his celphone, glancing over his shoulder to

make sure he was alone in the living room. “I’m still here, and it’ll be a little while before I can get away. She asked me to give her a ride over to the party.”

Marlena raised an eyebrow and glanced up at Don. “She did, did she? That’s strange. Did you tell her about the engagement yet?”

He sighed. “Yeah. She took it pretty well, all things considered. That’s why she wants me to give her the ride. She wants everyone to see that she doesn’t need their pity, or something.”

Marlena frowned. “What?”

John sighed again. “I know. It doesn’t really make that much sense to me either. But she was supposed to go to the party with Rachel and Peter, dressed as the people from Bewitched I think she said, and I guess she doesn’t want to go alone.

“Oh. Well, that’s understandable, I suppose. I guess that means I need to find another ride, though. Jonah and Lexie will be wondering where we are.”

“Will that be a problem? If worse comes to worse, I can swing by and get you and we’ll just be late. Or you can always ride with Frank. I know you hate having a bodyguard, but…”

“It won’t be a problem,” Marlena replied, grinning wickedly up at Don. “I have the perfect chauffeur in mind, worry not. Do you have your costume with you?”

“Yup,” John said, smiling ruefully down at himself. “I’ve already changed into it, in fact. What about you?”

“It’s in my office. I was just going to go change when I got sidetracked.” Don offered her a look of mock-hurt at being classified as a minor distracted, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. “So, what are you dressed as?”

John chuckled. “I think you’ll be able to figure that out when you see *your* costume. We really owe Carrie big-time for this one. This demands payback on the level of her playing the soundtrack of Annie twenty-four hours a day for three solid weeks.”

“That bad, huh?” Marlena replied through her laughter. “I can hardly wait. I guess I’ll see you there.”

“Shouldn’t be too long. Love you, fiancee.”

“Love you, too. Bye.” Marlena plopped the phone back into its cradle and turned back to Don. “How would you like to go to a party tonight, Mr. Craig?”

“The Med Student Fundraiser? Mickey mentioned something about it – he said it was a theme party. Unfortunately, my Keystone Kop outfit is at the cleaners.”

She punched him amiably on the arm. “Wrong era, funny man. The theme is the Sixties and Seventies, but as long as you bid a lot of money at the auction and pay for your own dinner, I’m sure Alice could be persuaded to let you come sans costume.” She widened her eyes and fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly. “Pretty please?”

He looked down at her, his lip twitching with suppressed amusement.

“You need a ride, don’t you?” he asked, his voice deadpan.

She sighed as she bent down to retrieve her briefcase. “Oh, darn, you found me out. So much for feminine wiles.” She linked her arm through his and pulled him down the hall toward her office. “So what do you say? Do you want to give your favorite ex-wife a lift?”

He offered her a loud martyr’s sigh, before muttering, “Oh, I *suppose* so…”

Their laughter echoed down the hallway.

***

John snapped his celphone shut, still grinning at Chelsea’s description of the artwork Belle and Brady were creating in honor of their parents’ engagement. He had a feeling he was going to regret buying the deluxe fingerpaint set once he saw what wasleft of the back porch. He slid the phone into his pocket, grimacing slightly as he withdrew the fake mustache that was supposed to complete his costume. He’d had no luck persuading the damn thing to adhere to his upper lip, and suspected that even if he managed to do so, he’d be swallowing it along with his drinks all night. “You can run but you can’t hide, Carrie,” he muttered darkly, a slight grin quirking his lips.

“Did you get hold of Marlena?” Kristen asked from behind him.

John stuffed the mustache back in his pocket. “Yes,” he replied, turning to face her. “She-…What are *you* supposed to be?”

Indignant hurt bloomed in her cheeks as she adjusted the long, dark wig she wore. “Cher, of course. Why, don’t you like it?”

“Cher,” he replied, shaking his head. “I don’t believe it.”

She raised her chin. “Well, I thought it was a pretty good costume for something I had to throw together at the last minute. Who are *you* supposed to be? That guy from the Partridge Family? One of the Hardy Boys?”

In answer he withdrew the mustache and held it up to his mouth. She choked on a startled laugh. “Sonny? You’re supposed to be Sonny? Does that mean Marlena is going to be-”

“Cher?” he finished. “I would assume so. Carrie must have thought it would be a funny idea.”

Kristen smoothed her long fringed shirt and vest over her belly. “I don’t

feel all that amused,” she admitted. “I can’t believe this has happened. And we don’t have time to change into anything else.”

She looked so crestfallen that he felt forced to put the best face possible on the situation. “Hey, don’t worry about it. There’ll probably be a ton of Sonnys and Chers there tonight. I’ll bet no one will even notice.”

She regarded him uncertainly. “Are you sure? It won’t bother you? Do you think Marlena will mind?”

He managed a laugh. “No, of course not. Are you ready to go, then?”

She nodded. “I’ll just go out and get the car.”

She grinned as he swept past her, and patted her foam rubber tummy fondly. “Perfect,” she whispered. “It’s party time.”

***

Marlena snagged a glass of champagne from the drinks table and took a large sip as she watched Don, who was standing across the room, surrounded by old friends. Alice Horton, dressed appropriately enough as Alice the Brady housekeeper from The Brady Bunch, was halfway into a stinging tirade about his sore lack of letter-writing skills. He was regarding her genially, his arm slung about Maggie/Wilma Flintstone’s shoulders. Mickey/Fred, standing next to his mother, was obviously having great difficulty containing his laughter. His eye caught Marlena’s and she grinned at him, tipping her glass in a silent toast. He grinned back, the white of his mustache a startling contrast to his shoe-polish black toupee. In a welcome concession to hygiene, he was wearing shoes underneath his orange and black ‘fur’ cape. Maggie’s short white dress revealed Rockette’s legs, a fact evidently not lost on Don.

“Marlena? Why aren’t you finished dressing yet?”

She turned to find Carrie behind her, her blue eyes twinkling impishly as she attempted to straighten her hairpiece. She was dressed in a long, flowing white dress, a belt containing some frightening futuristic-looking weapons cinched at her waist, her hair extensions swirling around her ears in a startlingly accurate rendition of Princess Leia’s bun ears. Marlena cocked her head, trying to discern how they were held in place – she’d always been suspicious of the fact that they remained intact eventhrough descents down garbage chutes – but she couldn’t see any wire. “Well?” Carrie asked impatiently.

“I am finished,” Marlena replied, twirling around to show off her skin-tight outfit, beads and bangles flying every which way. “This is what you picked out for me, isn’t it?”

Carrie nodded. “Yes, but where’s the wig? You really need the wig so people can tell who you’re supposed to be.”

“It didn’t fit,” Marlena replied, laughing. “Everyone’s head is not the same size, you know.”

“But I got the biggest one they had left,” Carrie protested. “Geez, Marlena, how large *is* that amazingly intelligent brain of yours, anyway?”

Marlena laughed and gave her a hug. “It’s *enormous*. I *am* a psychiatrist, you know. Don’t worry about it, honey,” she said, smoothing her hair, which was styled to era-correctedness even if it was the wrong color. “I’m sure Cher had blonde hair sometime in her life.”

Carrie frowned. “Yeah, but I think it was in the eighties.” Her frown faded. “But you look great, anyway. John’s gonna flip out when he sees that outfit.”

“Am I to assume that he’s going to be dressed as Sonny?”

Carrie grinned happily. “Yup. And before you ask, there is a method to my madness…which I will not reveal to you at this time. All I can say

is, it involves a karaoke machine and raising money for charity.”

Marlena’s expression was puzzled. “A *what*?”

Carrie choked back a laugh. “Oh, that’s right, you missed the advent of karaoke. But don’t worry, John knows what it is. Where is he, by the way?”

Marlena shrugged. “He’s bringing Kristen over. After he told her about the engagement, she asked him for a ride.” She nodded at Carrie’s perplexed expression. “I know, that’s exactly what I thought, but I don’t suppose it really matters. She knows we’re getting married, and that’s the important thing.” Carrie nodded doubtfully, but said nothing. “So, where’s *your* fiancee?”

“He went over to the house to say goodnight to Will. I had to run some errands, so we just decided to meet here. He’s giving Sami a ride.” Carrie grimaced distastefully.

“It’s just a ride, Carrie,” Marlena pointed out. “Just like John’s giving Kristen a ride.”

“I guess,” Carrie muttered. “But if I were you, I’d hope that Kristen won’t use her baby to get to John the way Sami uses Will to manipulate Austin. It’s pretty annoying.”

“Austin loves *you*, Carrie,” Marlena reminded her.

“I know,” Carrie sighed. “It’s just not the way I pictured our life, you know? My sister and my husband raising a child together. We should be on Oprah.”

“I think our family is too odd even for Oprah.”

“I guess,” Carrie shrugged. “What with all the people coming back from the dead, we’re probably more Jerry Springer’s type.”

Marlena shuddered. “Don’t even think about it. When I was at home after the shooting, trapped in the bedroom for days on end, I actually saw some of those talk shows. Oprah wasn’t bad, but Jerry Springer, Jenny Jones, and Ricki Lake made me want to throw a brick into the television. Thank goodness for Rosie O’Donnell.”

Carrie furrowed her brow delicately. “So all those medical journals were just for *show*, huh? I’m very disappointed in you, Marlena.”

Marlena laughed. “No, it’s just that reading gave me a headache and the upstairs television doesn’t have cable. I didn’t want to start watching soaps because I’ve heard that they’re insidiously addictive, and that left talk shows and reruns of The Andy Griffith Show.”

“Mmmm,” Carrie replied, glancing around the room. “I wonder if anyone will come dressed as him.” Her eyes widened. “Is that *Don* over there?”

Marlena laughed. “It is! He’s in town to help with Jack’s trial, and I dragooned him into giving me a ride over from the hospital. I knew that once Alice got a hold of him, he wouldn’t be able to leave. Do you want to go say hello?”

Carrie nodded eagerly and they set out across the room, narrowly avoiding several dancing couples and a frazzled Lexie, attired as Lieutenant Uhura from Star Trek in a short red minidress. She offered them a distracted smile before disappearing in the direction of the kitchen. Marlena watched her go with a bemused smile. “You know, she asked me to help with the preparations, but she keeps saying they don’t have anything for me to do.” She waved a hand toward the buffet table, presided over by an intimidating-looking Laura cum Margaret Houlihan from M*A*S*H. “I offered to help Laura as well but she said everything is under control there, too.”

Carrie patted her arm in mock-sympathy. “So you were forced to drown your sorrows in champagne, huh?”

“Exactly,” Marlena replied, draining her glass and snagging another from a passing waiter. “Don! Look who wants to see you.”

He turned from his conversation with Mickey and Maggie and blinked. “Carrie? Little Carrie Brady? Is that you?”

“Not so little anymore,” she replied brightly, reaching out to hug him. “It’s good to see you, Don.”

“You, too,” he replied hoarsely, glancing over her shoulder at Marlena with suspiciously moist eyes. “I can see you’re right. I can’t believe you’re all grown up.”

She finally let go of him. “All grown up, gainfully employed and *engaged*, actually.”

“*Engaged!*” he grinned. “Why, I don’t believe it. Who’s the lucky man?”

“His name is Austin Reed, and he’s not here yet, but when he gets here I want to introduce you.”

“Um, Carrie,” Marlena interjected, nudging Carrie with her arm. “I think he just arrived.”

They all turned to watch as Austin and Sami emerged from the elevator. Austin was wearing a karate-pajama-style white outfit, with a utility belt wrapped around his waist, the light-saber in his hand declaring to anyone with the least bit of knowledge of popular culture who he was supposed to be. He was regarding Sami with stifled impatience as he tried to tug his arm from her grip. She was glancing around the room, her other hand twirling her hair self-consciously. It was gathered on top of her head in a golden ponytail, an effective imitation of I Dream of Jeannie. The harem outfit she wore clung to every curve, the gauzy covering not concealing much, and the mother in Marlena wanted to grab a jacket and put it around her shoulders,

while the woman in her had to admire her daring. She looked beautiful, but Marlena knew her daughter wouldn’t believe the compliment if it came from anyone but Austin. And the man in question looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

Carrie waved at them. “Austin, come here. There’s someone I want you to meet.” Austin crossed the room quickly, Sami at his heels.

“Hi,” he said, offering his hand to Don. “I’m Austin Reed.”

“Hello,” Don replied, shaking it. “Don Craig. So you’re Carrie’s fiance…”

Something flickered in Sami’s eyes and she turned to leave, but Marlena drew her back with a one-armed hug, squeezing her shoulders softly. “And you probably remember this young lady, though she was quite a bit smaller the last time you saw her.”

Don’s brow furrowed. “It can’t be…Samantha Brady. Is that little Sami?”

Sami managed a miserable smile. “Yes, sir. It’s nice to see you again.”

He smiled. “You don’t remember me at all, do you? That’s all right, I remember you very well. You used to spit up on my shoulder.”

Sami’s cheeks reddened. “Don!” Marlena protested.

He laughed. “Well, she did! But I’ll tell you what, how about I give you another chance, Sami? Would you like to dance?”

Sami darted a miserable glance toward Austin and shrugged out from under Marlena’s arm. “Um, I’m sorry, maybe later. I just remembered I have to call someone.” She shot Marlena an apologetic look from under her eyelashes before hurrying back toward the payphones and the restroom. Marlena’s heart ached for her daughter’s pain, even as she felt glad for Carrie.

Don was watching her worriedly. “Did I say something wrong?”

“It isn’t you,” Marlena replied reassuringly. “She’s upset about other things.”

“Oh,” Don said. An awkward silence fell as Austin glowered and Carrie sighed. Finally, Carrie took Austin’s hand and offered Marlena a wan smile. “We’re going to get some champagne. Can we get you guys anything.”

“I still have some,” Marlena answered, holding up her flute. “You two go have fun.”

They nodded and disappeared into the thickening crowd. Don watched her as she drained the champagne from her glass in one gulp. “Something’s wrong.” It was not a question.

“Yes,” she sighed. “But it’s nothing you or I can fix. It will have to work itself out in the fullness of time. I just *worry*…”

He smiled as he reached for her empty glass, plucking it from her fingers and setting it on a nearby table. “You always did. But if there’s nothing we can do…would you like to dance, Doctor Evans?” She cocked her head and grinned. “I’d love to, Lawyer Craig.”

He took her hand and twirled her into the crowd, to the beat of a vaguely familiar BeeGees tune. The dancing, the champagne, and the lack of food in her system combined to make Marlena pleasantly lightheaded if not appreciably more graceful.

“Hey, watch it, twinkletoes,” Don laughed as she stumbled over one of his feet. He pulled her tightly to his chest. “I forgot about the effect champagne has on you.”

She leaned back and looked him in the eye. “I’m not drunk,” she replied imperiously, spoiling her righteous indignation with an

irrepressible smirk. “Yet,” she added, dissolving into laughter.

Across the room, Kristen tripped on the carpeting as they exited the elevator, and clung to John’s arm for support. He placed his hand over hers to steady her. “This would be so much easier if I could just *see* my feet,” she muttered, wringing a startled laugh from John.

“I used to have to tie Isabella’s shoes for her,” he confided, leaning down toward her ear so she could hear him through the din.

“Yes, Mother did that for me,” she replied, allowing her voice to trail off sadly.

His hand tightened over hers in automatic sympathy as they entered the main dining room. He discerned the melodic sound of Marlena’s laugh immediately and craned his neck to peer into the crowd, not noticing the startled looks of many of the guests as he arrived with his *ex*-fiancee on his arm. “Do you see Doc?”

Kristen pointed into the crowd, a satisfied smile on her lips. “Isn’t that

her?” she asked as Marlena flung her arms around the neck of an tall,
handsome, unknown man. She felt the muscles in John’s arm tense. “I

wonder who she’s dancing with?” This might be even easier than I
thought!
Chapter 50
Kristen forced a note of puzzlement into her tone in a desperate attempt to mask the elation she was feeling as she and John watched Marlena and her mystery companion whirl around the dance floor. “That is Marlena, isn’t it?” she murmured to John. “Do you know who that is she’s dancing with?” She had to bite her lip to keep from grinning as Marlena stood on tiptoe to kiss the man on the cheek right there in front of everyone.

John swallowed, forcing his tensed muscles to relax. “Yes, that’s her,” he muttered, oblivious to Kristen’s pleased reaction, his eyes still locked on his fiancee. “And no, I don’t recognize him, but he does look a little familiar somehow.”

The man laughed and looked up, his eyes drawn to John and Kristen, the only still figures in a sea of happy gyrations. A small furrow marred his brow. He leaned down and whispered something to Marlena and she turned toward them, an identical frown on her face. But when her gaze alighted on John, a wide grin curved her lips. She started toward them, dragging her mysterious dance partner in her wake.

“John!” she exclaimed happily, eyeing him up and down. “You’re here…and you’re Sonny Bono!” She bit her lip and giggled. “Sort of…”

John smiled gamely. “And I guess that makes you Cher – but she wasn’t blonde, was she?”

Marlena planted a smacking kiss on his cheek, her hand caressing his free arm. He felt a little better – but she hadn’t released the hand of the other man, either. “Well, not in the seventies,” she laughed, “but the wig Carrie got for me didn’t fit. Speaking of missing hair, though, didn’t Sonny Bono have a mustache?”

“Didn’t fit,” he replied, consciously parroting her words. She laughed as John turned toward her dance partner, a speculative expression on his face. Gently he disengaged his arm from Kristen’s grip and held out his hand. “I’m John Black, Marlena’s fiance,” he said by way of introduction.

The other man’s eyebrow rose a fraction at the possessive tone in John’s voice and John reddened slightly. He glanced over to Marlena, who was beaming at both of them, oblivious to the undercurrents of the conversation.

“Don Craig,” Don replied, studying John’s face for a reaction.

John snapped his fingers, fleeting shame mixed with chagrin crossing his face before he mustered a welcoming smile. “Oh, yes, I *knew* I recognized you from somewhere – Doc’s pictures. I’m sorry it took so long to place you. It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too, and don’t apologize. I’m flattered you see any resemblance at all to the man in those pictures. They were taken so long ago,” Don finished, glancing curiously at Kristen. She took John’s arm again, looking up at him expectantly.

John tore his gaze from the pleased expression on Marlena’s face. Why does seeing him make her so incredibly happy? he managed to wonder before squelching that unworthy thought. “Oh, I’m sorry. How rude of me. This is Kristen DiMera. Kristen, Don Craig.”

Don shook her hand mechanically, his face frozen in an expression of polite enquiry as he processed her last name. “DiMera?” he finally managed to ask.

Kristen smiled at him, completely sincere in her heartfelt welcome. You have no idea how glad I am to see you! she thought fervently. “Yes. I was Tony’s wife.”
Don exhaled. “Oh, right. I heard about his death. I was so sorry to hear it – Tony was a great guy.”

Kristen leaned in toward John and smiled again. “It’s all right. It was a long time ago. He was a wonderful man, and we all miss him, but now it’s easier to remember the happy times.”

John bit back a scathing comment as he glanced over at Marlena. She was frowning as she regarded Kristen’s costume. “Oh, goodness, I just realized what you’re wearing!” she blurted suddenly. “Are you supposed to be Cher, too?”

Kristen laughed and squeezed John’s arm. “Yes, isn’t that an amazing coincidence? I had no idea what your costumes were going to be,” she replied, rubbing her hand over her rounded belly. “I only decided on mine a few days ago.” She reached up and smoothed her hand over her dark wig, regarding Marlena’s blonde hair pointedly, as if to

say Guess which one of us looks like she belongs with John?. “John said he didn’t think you would mind.”

Marlena glanced up at John uncertainly. “No, of course not,” she murmured. “There’ll probably be a few more Chers arriving before the party ends, I’ll bet. And- oh, excuse me-” She flagged down a waiter as he passed by with a heavily laden drinks tray. Each waiter at the party was dressed as a Beatle, and this one looked decidedly uncomfortable about it as he awkwardly extended the tray. Marlena took another flute of champagne and sipped from it, gesturing for the rest of them to help themselves. Kristen refused with a shake of her head, giving her foam pillow another ostentatious pat, but John and Don each grabbed a glass.

“Isn’t this delicious?” Marlena asked, taking another long swig to avoid looking at Kristen’s swollen belly. “I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed champagne so much.”

Don was regarding her worriedly, conscious of the swirling undercurrents of the conversation though he couldn’t comprehend their meaning. “I think you mean, ‘I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed *so much* champagne,’ Marlena. How many glasses does that make?”

John raised his eyebrows. “Doc?”

Marlena shot Don a disgruntled look. “I *told* you I am *not* drunk. Geez, Don, it’s a party, for heaven’s sake. Lighten up!” Her fit of righteous pique was spoiled by a small hiccup. The brief storm of anger evaporated and she laughed. “I promise, officer, I won’t be driving home,” she exclaimed merrily. “Now if you’ll excuse us, I’d like to have a dance with my hubby-to-be.” She dropped her glass on a free table and tugged on John’s arm.

He smiled down at her as he abandoned his own glass. “Of course, Doc. Um, nice to meet you, Don.” He followed her without a backward glance as Kristen silently fumed.

Don watched them, frowning, as they made their way onto the dance floor. Abruptly he realized that he was ignoring Kristen. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m being rude, aren’t I? It’s just been so long since I’ve seen Marlena.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m quite accustomed to the effect Marlena has on men,” she replied, struggling to keep her voice free of bitterness. She was not entirely successful.

“Oh?” A wealth of questions comprised that one small syllable, and Kristen suddenly realized that Don Craig was far from a fool. She’d have to tread carefully to make him into an effective tool in her quest to win John back.

She managed a small smile as Caroline and Shawn caught her attention; they were attired rather convincingly as Gilligan and the Skipper, respectively. They conversed with Jennifer, Hope and Stacy Krugman, editor of Bella – the three of *them* were dressed as Charlie’s Angels in an array of skimpy outfits. Idly, Kristen wondered how much hairspray Jen had needed to Farrah her hair. Had to be a can or ten…Beware the ozone layer. She glanced up at Don. “Did that sound catty? I don’t mean to be. I just remember how in love with Marlena Roman always was, and then my father, too. And of course, there’s John.”

“Of course,” he murmured softly, his gaze still locked on Marlena. “But – your father?”

“Stefano,” she replied simply. He turned his shocked gaze to her, and she offered him another small smile.

“You didn’t know? He’s been obsessed with her for years now. He calls her his ‘Queen of the Night’, whatever that means.”

Don blinked. “Stefano is your father?”

“Was,” she said succinctly. “*Adoptive* father. That’s why I married Tony, because I believed it was Stefano’s dying wish. Little did I know that dying was such a favorite hobby of his. When I found out what kind of a man he really was, I turned against him for John’s sake. It seemed the least I could do, considering the hell John went through because of my father’s evil.”

Don’s confusion increased. “For John’s sake…” he repeated almost desperately.

Kristen lowered her gaze to her belly and gave it another gentle caress. She then raised her eyes to meet Don’s and saw comprehension dawn. “Your baby-” he began.

“Is John’s,” she finished, nodding. “We were to be married before she was born, but…” Her voice trailed off as she turned to face the dance floor again. “Well, as I said, I understand the effect Marlena has on men.”

“John left you knowing you were pregnant with his child?” Don asked incredulously.

She nodded, never averting her gaze from John and Marlena’s dancing figures. The music had changed to a slow song Kristen didn’t recognize, and they swayed back and forth as if they were a single person, two fused together into one. Kristen scowled as John tilted his head to whisper something into Marlena’s ear. Marlena laughed and turned her cheek to capture his lips in a long searing kiss, her normal public reserve drowning in a sea of champagne. John apparently just didn’t care who was watching. Kristen swallowed the bile in her throat and schooled her expression into one of sadness instead of anger. “I don’t blame him for what he’s done,” she murmured softly. “I understand why he did it. I understand everything.”

Don’s expression said he was glad *someone* did. “I- Oh, excuse me,” he muttered as two more arriving guests jostled his arm.

Kristen turned to find Vivian and Ivan at her elbow. Vivian wore a long dark wig vaguely reminiscent of Kristen’s and an elegant black dress that showed her cleavage to maximum advantage. Ivan stood next to her, attired in a natty black suit, dark slicked-back hair and a pencil-thin mustache. Kristen swallowed a laugh. “Who the hel-…um, who are you two supposed to be?”

Vivian glanced up at Don speculatively. “Some people named Morticia and Gomez, apparently. The costumer informed us that they were from the correct era and milieu. Ivan and I were at some disadvantage choosing costumes as we don’t watch the idiotbox.” She offered Don a ravishing smile, to Ivan’s visible annoyance. “Hello. I’m Vivian Kiriakis. And you are?”

He took her hand, smiling appreciatively. “Don Craig, Attorney-at-Law.’ “An attorney! How marvelous! I-” Vivian blinked. “Don *Craig*, did you say? As in Doctor Marlena Evans *Craig* Brady?”

He nodded. “That’s right. Marlena and I were married a long time ago. How do you know her?”

“Oh…” Vivian laughed nervously. “Well, she’s the mother of my great-niece and great-nephew and is soon to be my niece-in- law, actually. She’s going to marry my nephew John.” Vivian experienced a small burst of satisfaction as anger darkened Kristen’s face.

Don’s gaze narrowed. “John’s aunt, hmmm?” he murmured, turning back to the dance floor. “How interesting.” ***

Marlena raised her head from John’s chest as the last notes of music died away. “Mmmm, nice,” she murmured, the champagne making her slightly drowsy. She opened her eyes to look up at him. “More champagne, honey? I-” she broke off as something interesting caught her eye. “What’s going on over there?”

John turned to see Dr. Reilly standing over by the buffet table,

surrounded by a few Doctors John recognized as being long- time staff from pediatrics. Marlena frowned, trying to remember their names. “That’s Michelle Mitchell, Becky Herren and Carrie Chafin, isn’t it? They look upset, don’t they?”

John nodded his agreement, stifling a smile at the amusing picture they presented – That Girl, Rhoda and a fairly authentic-looking WonderWoman backing the fatigues-clad chief of staff into a corner. A doctor from M*A*S*H. How original! He bit back a sarcastic retort. “I wonder why?”

“Ooh, nice move,” Marlena murmured as Dr. Reilly made his escape by eeling away behind a vaguely Ringo-ish waiter. “I’m guessing I’m not the only one who’s had problems with Reilly’s people skills.” The three doctors stared after the departing Reilly, their expressions tinged with malicious satisfaction. Marlena swallowed a laugh as Reilly headed toward them. “Dr. Reilly,” she greeted him in an even tone.

“Dr. Evans,” he replied, slightly breathless. “I see you managed to escape the curse of Charlie’s Angels. Although,” he added, eyeing their costumes, “I’m not quite sure who you *are* supposed to be.”

Marlena grinned. “Well, picture this – I’m a brunette and he has a big cheesy mustache.”

Reilly pursed his lips thoughtfully, then laughed. “Sonny and Cher, right?”

Marlena slid an arm around John’s waist. “You got it, babe,” she cracked in a passable Cher imitation. “So, what was going on over there? Things looked a bit tense.”

His expression darkened briefly. “Oh,” he sighed, eyeing John speculatively, before finally relenting. “I’m beginning to think you had a point about my people skills when you complained to Mickey Horton, Mr. Black. Apparently Dr. Evans isn’t the only one to have felt their deleterious effects.”

John glanced down at Marlena. “Actually, I, uh…well, I wanted to apologize for doing that. It wasn’t my place to interfere.”

Reilly’s lip quirked in a wry, pained grin. “I notice you’re not saying you were *wrong*, though.”

“Yeah, well-” John broke off his reply as he saw three people approaching them from behind Reilly, dressed in various shades of Star Trek. “Uh oh. Smile, people. Board members at twelve o’clock.”

Marlena offered Oretro, Krizza and Snyder a brilliant, only slightly-drunken smile as they passed her. They smiled back, clearly puzzled by the apparent friendliness of the threesome. John grinned affably at them as he gave Marlena a squeeze. They exchanged perplexed glances, nodded at him, and kept right on going.

Marlena turned back to John and Reilly and wiped her brow in an exaggerated gesture of relief. “Whew! *That* went well.”

Reilly offered her a genuine smile. “Thanks.” The smile faded as something caught his eye over her shoulder. “Um, excuse me,” he muttered, whirling around to make a beeline for the restrooms near the elevator.

Marlena let out a startled laugh. “What was *that* all about?”

“I think I can answer that,” replied a merry voice. John and Marlena turned to greet its owner. “He was afraid of the wrath of Andrea.”

“Dr. Lehrer,” John greeted her, his lips twitching with amusement. He’d always liked Belle and Brady’s pediatrician, a slim, brown-haired woman with a killer sense of humor. “What *did* he do to upset the pediatrics department, anyway? He just barely escaped from a few of your colleagues a couple of minutes ago.”

“A momentary reprieve, I assure you,” Andrea answered, tipping her

champagne flute in a toast to her fellow doctors as she flipped back her Mary Tyler Moore ‘do. “But I refuse to ruin this convivial occasion with shop talk. Ah, it appears Dr. Carver is ready to start the festivities. I’ll see you two later.”

Dr. Lehrer melted into the crowd as John and Marlena were joined by several friends near the edge of the stage. As Jonah stepped up to the microphone in all of his Linc-from-the-Mod- Squad afroed glory, Bo clapped John’s shoulder and muttered a sarcastic, “Nice costume, man.”

John raised a sardonic brow as he perused Bo’s tan highway patrol outfit, a twin to the one Jack was wearing. “CHIPS, huh? Yeah, *you* have room to talk. So which one are you, anyway?”

Bo made a face as Jack laughed. “He’s Ponch, I’m John,” Jack offered, grinning widely. “Guess I know what it’s like to be you, now, huh?” He glanced behind them and elbowed John furtively in the ribs. “Here comes Abe. Sing the theme song when he gets here, okay? He hates that.”

“Sing what theme song? Who *is* he- Oh!” John laughed as Abe emerged from the crowd. He snaked an arm around Marlena’s waist and pulled her away from her exchange of compliments with Sami and Lucas, who was dressed in his old military school uniform, a dapper Major Anthony Nelson to Sami’s Jeannie. Marlena’s eyes widened as she beheld Abe’s outfit. She glanced up at John in silent communication, and then they began to hum the ‘Theme from Shaft’ in unison.

“Cut it out, you two,” Abe muttered, chuckling under his breath. “Pay attention to my little brother. He’s in charge of this shindig, you know.”

“Of course, Abe,” Marlena agreed solemnly, as John continued humming. Abe elbowed him in the very same ribs Jack had.

“Ouch!” John exclaimed. “All right, partner, lay off the ribs, okay? They

can only take so much abuse.”

“Can I have your attention please?” Jonah called, his booming voice sending screaming feedback through the sound system. “Sorry, sorry everyone…there, that’s better.” He took a deep breath. “All right. It’s time for the auction portion of our evening. I hope all of you have had a chance to peruse the items on the tenth floor, so generously donated by so many of you. The bidding sheets will remain open until ten o’clock, at which time we will offer final call, and you’ll have a chance to match the highest bid. That is the *silent* auction portion of this event, and we hope to match the record contributions we received last year to further AIDS research. On that note, I would especially like to thank our most generous contributors, Kate Roberts and John Black, whose combined contributions from Titan Publishing and Alamain Industries comprised over half the items donated. Thank you very much!”

Jonah paused as applause swelled. John shot Marlena a look of uncomfortable embarrassment. She grinned up at him and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the lips, which further reddened his cheeks. He cleared his throat and glanced over at Kate, who was standing next to Carrie and Austin by the buffet table. She apparently hadn’t heard Jonah’s approbation, as she was occupied with glaring at Vivian from across the room. He choked on a laugh as he realized they were both dressed as Morticia Addams, though Kate had come sans Gomez.

Jonah waved a hand to quiet the crowd. “In just a moment we’ll begin the not-so-silent portion of our auction…but first, I must introduce a few people without whom this entire event would not be possible.” He held out an arm toward the four people arrayed on stage behind him. “My co-chair for the Fundraiser committee, Dr. Lexie Carver…” More applause rang out as Lexie stepped forward to offer a deep curtsy, quite a daring act considering the brevity of her Trek miniskirt. “Dr. Farnaz, head of the Toscano Cancer Wing…” The slim, dark- haired doctor, dressed as the seventies superhero ElectraWoman, sketched a smiling wave. “Chief Resident and Supreme Dictator – um, I mean *Doctor* – Sarah Reck…” Another smile and wave. “Dr. Sharon Holley, Director of AIDS Research…” Dr. Holley stepped forward and

mimicked Lexie’s earlier curtsy, tossing a grin over her shoulder at her friend. “And, of course, Dr. Michael Horton, continuing the grand tradition of great medical practitioners of the Horton family…” Jonah frowned as he looked out over the crowd. “Mike, where are you?”

As audience members turned to look for the doctor, Carrie’s voice became audible above the murmuring of the crowd. “Come on, Mike, get up there.”

“All right, all right,” the doctor agreed good-naturedly, allowing her to push him toward the stage, to the unnoticed annoyance of Austin. Mike was dressed in a white shirt, brown vest, and lowslung navy pants, a plastic blaster clipped to the belt around his waist.

“Here he is, folks,” Jonah announced. “Let’s here it for Dr. Han Solo.” Mike jumped up on the stage with an audible *thump*, tossing a grin back down at Carrie/Leia. She laughed up at him before turning back toward Austin, who managed a sour smile as he fingered his lightsaber distractedly.

As the applause died down, Jonah continued, “We’re trying something new this year, in place of the talent show we usually perform. A careful examination of the new crop of interns and the med students revealed that they were bereft of any actual talent…that can be performed on a stage anyway,” he added hastily as the laughter swelled. “So our committee has come up with another idea for the entertainment, which will have the added benefit of increasing the funds we raise this evening for our incredibly important cause.” He leaned down to pick up two large black bowler hats, which had been resting, brims facing upward, on the corner of the stage. “These hats contain the name of every employee, doctor, and Board Member of University Hospital. In a few moments, I will draw one name from each to crown the king and queen of this year’s fundraiser. Those two individuals will come up here on stage, and we will begin the bidding.” He glanced over his shoulder and nodded at Lexie, who disappeared behind a red curtain at the back of the stage.

“Bidding for what?” Mickey called as Lexie rolled some sort of electronic equipment out from behind the curtain. “What’s that?”

“This-” Jonah stated, patting it proudly, “-is a karaoke machine.” Groaning laughter swept the room. “Audience members will bid to decide which song your new king and queen will sing as they receive their crowns. And after that, we’ll add the names of everyone who purchased a raffle ticket, and keep drawing names to fill out the members of their ‘court’.” He grinned a bit maliciously. “There will be raffle prizes, of course, but you have to pay a price first. I know no one will refuse the honor of coming up here and making fools of…ahem, coming up here and entertaining us, I mean, as it’s for such a good cause.”

“C’n we bid money to keep someone from singin’?” Shawn called jovially. “Because I’ve heard some of you people in my Pub on St. Paddy’s day, and it might be a joyful noise, but it sure ain’t singin’…” Laughter echoed through the crowd.

“I suppose, as long as you offer the highest bid,” Jonah replied, grinning. “May I introduce our able assistant, Paulette?” Paulette Sandene, R.N. emerged from behind the curtain, dressed as slinky Emma Peel from The Avengers. She grinned as a wolf whistle pierced the air and offered a provocative curtsy. “Paulette has the sheets enumerating the songs that are available.” Paulette handed small stacks of paper to the people closest to the stage, who handed the pages back in turn until they were all distributed.

Marlena scanned the list. “‘Stayin’ Alive’,” she giggled, sipping from a fresh glass of champagne. “I think Reilly should sing that one, don’t you, John?”

“Mmmm…” he murmured, glancing over her shoulder. He pointed at one title halfway down the page. “I think he should sing the theme from the Monkees. And there’s gotta be a way to get Mom and Pop up there, so they can do the theme from The Brady Bunch.”

“That’d be great,” Marlena agreed. “Maybe they bought a raffle ticket, but they can’t be King or Queen because they aren’t hospital employees, remember? Oh, God,” she muttered as understanding finally dawned through the alcohol fogging her brain. “I’m in one of those hats, John.”

“You certainly are,” he grinned. “And so am I. He said Board Members, too, remember?”

“But, John,” she whispered urgently, “I can’t sing.”

He leaned toward her until his lips were almost touching her ear. “Neither can I,” he replied softly, the gentle exhalation of his breath sending shivers down her spine. “Don’t worry, Doc. There have to be hundreds of names in those hats. The odds are in your favor.”

She groaned as she drained her glass. “Why does it make me incredibly nervous to hear you say that?”

He laughed. “I haven’t the faintest idea, Doc. But if you don’t stop drinking that champagne, you won’t be able to *see* the monitor, much less sing.”

“I told you before, I am *not* drunk.” She blinked tipsily at her empty glass. “Whoa, where did that go?”

Sami leaned in to wink up at John. “Nope, not drunk at all. You’ve got some catching up to do, John.”

He shook his head, grinning. “No, two glasses is my limit. Remember, I’m driving us home later.”

Sami shrugged. “I can drive us. Or if you guys absolutely insist on closing the bar down in the wee hours of the morning, you can take a cab. I’ll go home and be there for the kids.”

“Deal,” John replied instantly, pulling his keys from his pocket and plopping them into Sami’s outstretched hound. He deftly hooked a glass from a passing tray borne by a Paul McCartney lookalike and drained it in one gulp. “If I *do* have to sing tonight, I sure don’t want to remember it in the morning.”

Sami’s eyes twinkled as she glanced down at the song list. “I can’t think of anything I’d rather see, myself. How do you feel about ‘Louie, Louie’?”

“Don’t even think about it, squirt,” he growled. “I have *way* more money than you – I could make you sing every single song from Grease and never miss the money.”

She covered her eyes in mock horror. “No, no, please! I surrender. Anything but that!”

He opened his mouth to utter a smart rejoinder, only to be interrupted by Jonah. “Okay, everyone, now that you’ve had time to peruse the list, it’s time to begin the drawing. Just to make sure you realize how fair and impartial we’re being – and therefore give you no reason to make *my* life a professional hell – I’ll let someone from the audience do the actual picking.” A hand shot up in the back of the room. Jonah laughed. “All right, Dr. Angels, come on up.” The doctor, one of many attired in Army fatigues a la M*A*S*H, ascended the stage, reached a hand into the first hat, then delivered the chosen piece of paper to Jonah.

He unfurled it with a flourish, a wide grin splitting his face as he read the contents. “All right, it’s time to reveal your queen for the evening. And the Queen for the 1997 Medical Student Fundraiser is…drumroll, please…Doctor Marlena Evans, Department of Psychiatry!” The crowd applauded.

Marlena coughed, incredulous, as she looked up at John with wide eyes. “Me?” Her voice rose to a squeak.

He grinned hugely. “You, Doc,” he laughed, giving her a swift kiss.

“You said the odds were in my favor,” she accused as various family members patted her encouragingly. “I’m going to get you for this, John.”

He held his hands toward his chest in a mea culpa expression. “Hey, *I* didn’t do anything. But you’d better get up there, Doc. Your subjects await you.”
Marlena scowled at him before turning to mount the stairs. “Very funny.” She nearly tripped on the second step, and he reached out a hand to steady her.

“Break a leg, Doc,” he whispered, and was rewarded by a glare nearly lethal in its intensity. I’m going to pay for that one! But the champagne spurred him into still more dangerous waters, and he offered her an obnoxious grin.

“Geez, John,” Sami breathed. “If looks could kill you’d be a corpse by now.”

John grabbed another flute of champagne and gulped it down with abandon. Up on the stage, Jonah was greeting Marlena with open arms. She hugged him, then turned to face the audience, blinking disorientedly under the harsh spotlights.

“Let’s find out who your king is, shall we?” Jonah asked, holding out the other hat. Dr. Angels again did the honors. Jonah unfurled the paper and choked on a startled laugh. “Oh, I don’t believe this, folks. But I promise you, this wasn’t rigged. It must be fate.” Marlena turned to him and raised an inquiring brow. He grinned. “Let’s hear that drumroll again, please…the King of the 1997 Medical Student Fundraiser is…Mr. John Black, Board Member of University Hospital!”

“Wha-?” John breathed.

Sami laughed as she pried his empty glass from nerveless fingers. “Time for the debut performance of Evans and Black, it seems. If you don’t like ‘Louie, Louie,’ how do you feel about ‘Do Ron Ron’?”

John shot her a black look as Bo gave him a friendly shove toward the stage. “Remember, I am very rich and very powerful. Annoy me at your peril.” He took a deep breath and pasted a game smile on his face.

Sami swallowed a giggle as John bounded up onto the stage. She turned to her grandparents. “So who wants to go in with me? I’ve got fifty bucks on the theme from The Beverly Hillbillies.”

John halted next to Marlena and turned to face the waiting crowd. She grinned up at him impishly and whispered “What are the odds?” out of the corner of her mouth.

The twinkle in her eyes was irresistible, so he reached down and pulled her into a searing kiss, unmindful of their audience, which clapped and whistled with abandon.

Except for one. Kristen scowled at them from her vantage point in the far corner, her hands clasped so tightly over her protruding belly that they made a perceptible dent in the foam pillow.

But no one noticed.
Chapter 51

Long minutes passed before Marlena ended the passionate kiss between she and John as they stood entwined in the middle of the stage. She stared up into John’s eyes, oblivious to the thunderous applause from the audience. “I can’t believe we just did that,” she whispered. “Are we drunk?”

He grinned down at her. “Drunk on love, Doc. And maybe just a little bit of champagne.”

She grimaced. “I can’t believe we have to sing in front of everyone, John. I don’t think I’ve drunk enough yet not to remember this tomorrow.”

He leaned down and gave her another swift kiss. “Courage, Doc. It’s for a good cause, remember?”

“Right.” Marlena inhaled deeply and braced herself, turning to smile brightly at the audience. She spotted Carrie grinning up at them and offered her a little wave. In spite of her discomfort, she wasn’t nearly as nervous as she would have been normally. Silently she blessed her unconscious foresight in consuming five glasses of champagne.

John draped an arm across her shoulders and nodded at Jonah, schooling his face a mask of mock imperial disdain. “Let’s get this over with, okay? We want our crowns and our royal titles, and we want them right now!”

Jonah snorted as he signalled to Paulette, who was waiting in the wings, two homemade crowns clutched in her hands. “You’ve got the attitude down, all right. Are you sure you were never a hospital administrator?” Laughter erupted from the assemblage.

“Better,” John confided, leaning in toward Jonah’s microphone. “I was a priest. An even higher authority.”

Jonah took the tacky cardboard and tinfoil crowns from Paulette.

“That’s what *you* think,” he muttered, to the hilarity of the audience, many members of which were not that far behind Marlena in champagne consumption. “Okay, let’s start the…uh, ceremony.” He held out the crowns. Marlena reached for hers, but John stayed her hand and favored Jonah with an exaggerated scowl.

“Aren’t you going to kneel first?” he asked haughtily. “I mean, we *are* royalty and all.”

“Oh,” Jonah chuckled, “Yeah, right.” He knelt down ponderously on one knee, set the crowns on the stage floor, and placed one hand dramatically over his heart. “I, um, bow to you, o king and queen of the fundraiser. I pledge…uh, I pledge not to laugh, no matter how badly you may sing…I pledge my undying friendship, even if you make a fool of me in front of all my colleagues and bosses…and, um, I pledge to let somebody else run this damn thing next year. Good enough?”

John and Marlena burst out laughing. “Good enough,” John said, extending a hand to help him up. “What do you want us to do?”

Jonah bent down to collect the crowns and thrust them toward John. “Well, first you have to put on your crowns.”

John nodded, taking Marlena’s and gesturing for her to take his. He held hers up and placed it on her head with solemn aplomb. “I dub thee Queen Marlena of the Med Student Fundraiser,” he intoned ponderously.

She suppressed a giggle as the overlarge crown slipped down over one eye. “Thanks. I, uh, dub thee King John of the Med Student Fundraiser.” She adjusted the crown on his head, then tapped each shoulder with her right hand as if in benediction. Then they both turned to look at Jonah. “Well?”

“Oh, I think that was great. You guys really have a future as royalty. But now it’s time to see if you have a future in the music biz.” He turned toward the audience and bowed with a theatrical flourish. “It’s

time to begin the bidding. We’ll start at the bargain price of one hundred dollars. The winning bidder gets to select which song our king and queen will sing. Have you made your selections?”

A chorus of yeses erupted from the audience. Marlena experienced a sudden sinking feeling as she beheld the mischievous grins on the faces of many of her family, friends,and colleagues. John leaned down to whisper in her ear, “I have a very bad feeling about this.”

She couldn’t suppress a grin. “Isn’t that supposed to be Mike’s line tonight? I mean, he’s the one dressed as Han Solo.”

He squelched a chuckle. “Watch it, or you’ll be singing a solo.”

Her fingers tightened around his wrist like bands of steel. “No way, buddy. A queen *never* sings without her king.” ***

“So are you going to make a bid?”

The quiet voice in Kristen’s ear caused her to start violently. She turned to look up at Don, hoping he hadn’t seen the fingers digging into her stomach padding as she’d fought to control her anger. The last thing she needed was for Marlena’s keen-eyed ex-husband to figure out her pregnancy was a fraud.

“Not on your life,” she muttered, unclenching her fingers and forcing her rapid breathing under control. “I will never do anything to perpetuate this farce.”

“What’s farcical about it?” Don asked, raising a brow. “They look pretty happy to me.”

Kristen snorted. “Yes, it’s a perfect picture of the King and Queen of Salem lording it all over their subjects and planning to live happily ever after with their two children and their loving extended family…only that isn’t the way it is. You know it, *I* know it – and on some level, I

believe even *they* know it.”

Don frowned as he watched Marlena wave a mock-threatening fist toward Sami, who grinned impishly and raised her bid for “The Beverly Hillbillies Theme” to one hundred dollars, apparently in combination with the young man dressed in military blues standing next to her. Bo and Jack upped the ante, suggesting “In the Navy” and “I Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog,” respectively. Jonah presided over the proceedings, clearly delighted that the game had garnered such an enthusiastic response. John and Marlena were doing their part, egging on their audience to still higher bids.

Don turned to look at Kristen. “I’ve rarely seen her this happy, Ms. DiMera, and I don’t think it’s due to the champagne. I think you must be wrong.”

Kristen shook her head, but Don didn’t see the gesture. His attention had been caught by Vivian, who had just laughingly offered a large increase on the last bid, with the suggestion of “I am Woman, Hear me Roar”, a proposal that sent most of the audience into paroxysms of laughter as John glared balefully at his aunt.

Kristen cleared her throat and Don returned his attention to her face. “How much do you know about what happened to Marlena after my father kidnapped her?” she asked.

“You mean about the amnesia, and her believing John was still Roman?” Kristen nodded. “Everything. Mickey told me most of it, and Marlena filled me in on the rest on the way over here. Why?”

Kristen turned her gaze back to the stage as Jonah accepted a bid for “Crazy” from a giggling member of the psychiatric staff, a suggestion that drew an admonishing headshake from Marlena. “Don’t you find it odd that Marlena would agree to marry John when she can’t remember the last ten years of her life? Don’t you find it even odder still that John would *ask* her to marry him when she’s still so confused and uninformed?”

Don frowned. “I don’t know. I suppose maybe she feels there’s no guarantee that she’ll *ever* remember. She can’t put her life on hold forever.”

“No,” Kristen agreed, “But the doctors believe she *will* remember, and probably sometime soon. So what’s the hurry? Why rush it?”

Don eyed her thoughtfully. “You say that like you have an answer to your own question.”

“I do,” she replied, gazing up at him with guileless eyes. “You have to understand something, Don. Marlena had every opportunity to tell John that she loved him after Roman left, if indeed she did. John and I didn’t even get engaged until almost two years after he’d gone. But she didn’t say anything to him – not a word.”

“Because…” he prompted.

“Because she didn’t want to,” Kristen said. “Because she *didn’t* love him. Come on, Don, you know how honest Marlena is. She would never mislead John, or hurt him unnecessarily. The *reason* they weren’t together before this is because Marlena didn’t want them to be.”

Don frowned down at her. “So you’re saying that John was with

you…as a consolation prize? Because he couldn’t have the person he really wanted? And you were willing to settle for that?”

She stifled a spurt of indignant anger. “No, of course not. John loves me more than anything, I know that. I’m not saying that he doesn’t care about Marlena – she’s Belle’s mother, and they’ll always be close because of that. But there’s also all the guilt he feels because of what their affair cost Marlena. He did everything he could to get Roman to forgive her, and he never stopped hoping that Roman would come back, because he knew that Roman was her soulmate.”

“But now Roman won’t ever be coming back,” Don concluded quietly.

“That’s right,” she agreed. “And two weeks after everyone found out he was dead, John proposed to Marlena.”

Don turned to look up at the stage, where Marlena had collapsed into John’s arms in a heap of laughter. John nuzzled her neck affectionately, shouting something mildly obscene to the senior Bradys, who’d just offered a bid on “Great Balls of Fire”. “I don’t think John proposed because he feels sorry for her, Kristen.”

Kristen gritted her teeth. “I’m not saying it’s that simple, Don. He *cares* about her. She destroyed her *life* when she chose to have an affair with him. And he’d do anything in the world to make her happy again. Her amnesia means that she only remembers the good years of their relationship, not the pain she went through later because of him. And Roman’s death means she’ll never get her true husband back. So John searched his mind and his soul for a solution to her dilemma, and this is whathe came up with.”

“Marriage to her…because he feels guilty.” Don’s tone was doubtful, but not totally dismissive.

Kristen squelched a triumphant smile. “I’m not saying he wouldn’t do his best to make her happy if they did get married. He’d never leave her, never cheat on her, never consciously hurt her. But marriage should only come about when two people love each other more than anything on this earth. Anything less…it’s a cheat…to everyone.”

Don raised an eyebrow. “To you, you mean.”

Kristen compressed her lips and lowered her eyes. “To me, yes. But also to John and Marlena.” She rubbed her stomach gently. “And to my baby…” she added softly.

Don looked back up at the stage, a speculative expression on his face. “I don’t know…” he murmured under his breath. “Maybe you’re right.”

Kristen bit back a grin. Gotcha!

***
“Is that the final bid?” Jonah asked, a triumphant smile splitting his face. No further offers issued forth from the crowd. “All right, then the bidding is closed. The singing talents of our King and Queen are sold to the contingent from Titan Publishing for the bargain price of five thousand dollars!” Austin, Carrie and Kate grinned and waved mockingly at John and Marlena, who responded with thunderous sham scowls. “So without further ado, I give you your King and Queen singing – appropriately enough – ‘I Got You, Babe’ by Sonny and Cher.” Jonah leaned over to select the proper song on the karaoke monitor, then turned to grin at John and Marlena. “Break a leg, guys!” he whispered loudly before jumping off of the stage.

John and Marlena stepped up to the microphone as the machine

clicked and whirred. John cleared his throat. “Before we begin
the…uh, entertainment, I have something I’d like to say.” He gestured
down at his costume. “Despite what it may look like, this situation
wasn’t planned in advance.” He paused to glare suspiciously at Carrie.

“Not by Marlena and myself, anyway. For those of you who don’t
recognize Sonny and Cher without his mustache and her brown hair,
that’s who we’re supposed to be, thanks to Carrie Brady, who picked
out our costumes, and, perhaps not so coincidentally, led the bidding
to choose the song for our singing debut.”

“Not a coincidence at all!” Carrie confirmed merrily.

John harrumphed, “Well, we’ll be squaring this with you later, punkin. Count on it. But in the meantime, we’re happy to do our part to support the important work done by the Med Student Fundraiser. In fact, this will probably be much less painful for us than it will be for you.”

“I c’n guarantee that!” Shawn called from over by the wall.

Marlena grinned at him and made a rude gesture with her hand. The crowd erupted into laughter as John yanked her into his arms. She

blushed furiously, mortified that the champagne had eroded so much of her customary self-control. John chuckled. “All the same, the song we’re going to sing isn’t inappropriate. In fact, as of last night, it’s absolutely perfect. Before we make our showbiz debut, I’d like to announce to all of you – our friends, family, and colleagues – that the wonderful, fabulous, beautiful Dr. Marlena Evans has agreed to become my wife…again!”

The audience dissolved into wild applause, led by Carrie, whose wolf-whistle of delighted approbation rent the air. John felt compelled to acknowledge the good wishes with another heartfelt kiss. Marlena was happy to oblige him. But the first chords of music interrupted them moments later, and they pulled apart reluctantly to glance hurriedly at the monitor.

“…Babe…I got you, Babe…”

“Temper, temper…” Vivian cautioned mockingly as she sidled up next to Kristen, who was standing in a shadowed alcove at the back of the room, glaring up at the happy couple on the stage.

Kristen offered her a smile that was all teeth and no heart. “Shut up, Vivian,” she hissed under her breath, glancing nervously at Don, who stood a few feet away, his eyes locked on Marlena. He was smiling faintly.

Vivian followed her gaze. “Looks like your little blast from the past has failed to derail the happy couple, Kristen. Did you know they were planning on getting married?”

Kristen grimaced. “Yes. John came by to tell me tonight before the party. He didn’t want me to find out from someone else.”

“How considerate,” Vivian remarked drily.

“It was,” Kristen shot back, blinking away sudden tears. “He cares about me, Vivian, and he wants to do anything he can to keep me

from being hurt.”

“Anything up to but definitely not including getting back together with you,” Vivian interjected nastily.

Kristen counted to ten under her breath.

“They…will…not…be…married,” she bit out. “I won’t let it happen!”

Vivian snorted. “What exactly are you going to do to stop them? Your little plan to make use of Mr. Craig doesn’t seem to be working.”

Kristen inhaled deeply. “These things take time, Vivian. I’ve planted some very useful seeds in his mind, but it might take a little while before they bear fruit.” She batted her eyelashes innocently. “Besides, what makes you think I had anything to do with Don Craig coming back to town?”

“Oh, I don’t know…maybe all the things you’ve said about your plan to use the past to break up John and Marlena. And since John’s past is a blank slate, that leaves Marlena’s. The return of her first husband definitely qualifies.” Vivian turned to regard Don meditatively. “On the face of it, it’s not a *bad* plan,” she admitted. “If Marlena weren’t so incredibly ga-ga over John, I could see where she’d be tempted by him. He’s a very fine-looking man.”

“Down girl,” Kristen muttered softly as she noticed someone else watching Don admiringly. “Looks like you’re not the only one who thinks so.”

Vivian followed her gaze and scowled as her eyes lighted on Kate, who was regarding Don appreciatively. “I should have known. Poor Victor falls ill and she can’t wait to move on to her next victim. I knew she never really loved him.”

Kristen rolled her eyes toward the ceiling. “Yes, well, as long as you keep quiet about the baby, I’ll support you at Titan, and then you’ll have all the time in the world to show Victor how much better you are

for him than she is. That is, if he ever emerges from his home in the vegetable kingdom long enough to notice.”

Vivian’s eyes flashed angrily. “Go to hell,” she muttered, stalking off toward Ivan.

“Good riddance,” Kristen murmured, returning her gaze to the stage, where John and Marlena had given up any pretense at rhythm or tune in favor of just trying to get the words out between spates of breathless giggles. John had taken Marlena into his arms to twirl her about the stage, his movements roughly in time to the music but sadly lacking in grace. Most of the audience had long ago dissolved into teary laughter. Shawn and Caroline were nearly in hysterics, and Carrie had pulled Mike into a drunken dance that mimicked the one taking place on the stage. As the final notes of music died away, an amused silence fell momentarily, before the audience burst into wild applause.

John stepped up to the microphone, Marlena at his side, biting her lips to stop her laughter. “Thank you, thank you very much,” he opined in a passable Elvis imitation, which sent Marlena over the edge into another bout of helpless giggling. Someone in the audience essayed a shout of “ENCORE”, which the Brady family group by the stage took up as their own chant. “Not on your life,” John replied cheerfully. “We don’t want to deprive anyone else of the chance to regale you with their talents. Although, I do believe I would agree that we will be a very hard act to follow.”

Marlena leaned her head in toward the microphone. “You can say that again.”

Jonah bounded up on the stage and wrested the mike from the King and Queen. “Well, wasn’t *that*…um, *enthusiastic*!” he offered, ducking John’s playful punch. “I’d like to thank John and Marlena for starting our auction out on such a high – if not actually in tune – note. I can only hope our subsequent entertainers will put forth as much effort.” He grinned at the two of them. “How would you like to do us

the honor of picking the next lucky pair?” He tipped the contents of one of the hats into the other and shook the remaining hat gently to mix the slips of paper.

John and Marlena exchanged a glance and turned to Jonah with identical, slightly malicious, grins on their faces. “We’d love to!” they chimed in unison as they reached for the hat.

Marlena unfurled her paper first and began to chuckle upon reading its contents. “Oh, this is wonderful. This is poetic. We couldn’t have asked for more!”

John raised an eyebrow. “What?”

Marlena grinned as she leaned in toward the mike. “Everybody, let’s hear it for our next talented performer…Carrie Brady!”

The smile froze on Carrie’s face as she gazed up at them. “No! No way! That isn’t what it says – you’re making that up to torture me. Look, I’m sorry the wig didn’t fit, Marlena, but that’s no reason to do this-”

Marlena offered her a smug smile as she passed the slip of paper to Jonah, who confirmed the news with a helpless shrug and an obnoxious grin. Carrie looked around to find Mike laughing at her; he prodded her forward with a hand to her back and an admonishment of, “Be a good sport now, Carrie,” in his most infuriating know-it-all doctor voice. She made a face at him even as she accepted his help mounting the stage.

John unfurled his slip of paper. “Ah,” he smiled in satisfaction. “Another lovely duet. Dr. Mike Horton, come on down!”

Carrie spun around to grin maliciously at the doctor. “Come on, Mike…be a good sport now,” she mimicked gleefully. ***

The party continued in that vein, aided and abetted by copious

amounts of champagne. Mike and Carrie sang “When a Man Loves a Woman,” the winning bid and song suggestion submitted by Laura, in a monumental lack of subtlety missed by no one – except for an oblivious Carrie. John and Marlena got their revenge on Shawn and Caroline by forcing them to perform the theme from The Brady Bunch for an obscene amount of money. Bo and Jack sang “You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feeling” to Hope and Jen, respectively. The women themselves offered a soulful rendition of “I Will Survive”. Alice, Mickey and Maggie combined for “Wild Thing”, while Sami’s bid won Lucas’ version of the Monkees’ “Daydream Believer”. By the time they and other various hospital-related ‘acts’ had finished performing, there weren’t any less-than- completely-inebriated people left at the party, except for Sami, the only underaged attendee, and Kristen, forced into abstinence by her foam-pillow belly. So she was stone-cold sober when Sami’s winning – albeit embarrassingly low – bid forced her to sing “The One-Eyed, One-Armed Flying Purple People Eater”. Her only consolation was that few people would remember her performance, but the smirk on Sami’s face engendered satisfyingly evil thoughts of vengeance. Sami’s departure soon thereafter to check on the children deprived her of any immediate opportunity. It also meant that Sami missed out on the whispered conversation between Shawn, Caroline, Bo and Carrie that took place behind the buffet table.

“No, I want to do something for them now,” Carrie insisted as she snuck a peek at John and Marlena, who were dancing a slow dance over in the corner, oblivious to everyone but each other *and* the fact that the music’s tempo didn’t match that of their dance. “We’ll give them an official engagement party, of course, but I also want to do something really soon to let them know how happy we are that they’re finally together.”

“What about a surprise breakfast for all their friends and family at the Pub tomorrow?” Caroline asked. “Shawn and I could tell them we want to make pancakes for the children before Shawn takes them fishing in the morning.”

“That’s a great idea,” Carrie replied enthusiastically, before favoring Shawn with a forbidding frown. “But we’re not going to have breakfast

at five o’clock in the morning, Grandpa. The fish are just going to have to wait until a decent hour for their worms.”

“Oh, aye,” Shawn replied meditatively as he surveyed the remaining partygoers. “There’s not many of this lot that’ll be up at a proper hour of the mornin’, anyway. What d’you say to nine o’clock?”

Carrie groaned but nodded her agreement. “Any later and most people won’t be able to take the time off from work. But make a batch of your hangover cure, Grandpa. I think pretty much everyone is going to need it.”

Bo rubbed his hands together as he eyed the crowd. “It’s a plan, then. I’ll start circulating the news.” His attention was caught by two doctors from the ER standing stage-center. Dr. CJ Paradis and Dr. Cheryl Johnson, dressed to poodle-skirted perfection as Laverne and Shirley, were belting the hell out of “(You Make Me Feel Like A) Natural Woman”, to the rapt appreciation of those in the audience who still remained on their feet – a rapidly dwindling number, to be sure. “Something tells me,” Bo added thoughtfully, “that we’d better call people to remind them of the invitation in the morning. I think most of them are past remembering anything else about this evening.”

Carrie nodded. “Okay, it’s settled. You and Grandpa better invite Marlena and John, then.” Caroline and Shawn nodded and turned in unison to regard the couple in question, just as they finished their solitary dance.

“Did you enjoy the party?” John asked softly as Marlena raised her head from his chest to blink sleepily up at him.

“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured. “It was wonderful. I absolutely adored my first event as your official fiancee.”

John tilted his head down to kiss her on the nose. “Well, I hope so, because there won’t be many more of them. I don’t want to put off this marriage any longer than absolutely necessary.” He leered at her

suggestively and she giggled.

“Why is that, John? What’s the rush?” interrupted another voice.

“Hi, Don,” Marlena grinned, oblivious to the tension in the man’s tone.

John draped an arm around her shoulders as they turned to face him. “I just want Marlena to become my wife again as soon as possible. We’ve wasted too many years living apart as it is.”

“Oh,” Don replied enigmatically. John was about to question his puzzling attitude, but their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Shawn and Caroline.

“Shawn and I are about to leave,” Caroline informed them as she patted Shawn’s arm possessively. “But we wanted to make sure you would both be bringing Brady and Belle by for breakfast tomorrow before the great fishing expedition. Shawn wants to make them some of his famous pancakes, and you know he always cooks enough for an army.”

Marlena rubbed her eyes tiredly. “Sure, Caroline, that sounds wonderful. What time will this glorious repast be taking place? Please tell me it’ll be *after* sunrise for a change!”

“Nine o’clock,” Shawn replied.

John’s eyebrows shot upward. “Nine o’clock? After all those times you informed me that no self-respecting fish would still be biting after eight? You’re not losing your touch now that you’re a Pub proprietor and not a true fisherman, are you, Pop?”

“I’ll ‘true fisherman’ you, boy,” Shawn growled, punching John on the arm. “We just figured you and Marlena would be needin’ a few extra hours to sleep off the ten gallons of champagne you guzzled this evenin’.”

John grinned. “Yeah. Like you’re sober.”

“I’m an Irishman,” Shawn replied with dignity, as if nothing more needed to be said on the subject. “Let’s be findin’ us a cab, Caroline.”

Caroline kissed them both on the cheek in farewell and smiled up at Don. “Why don’t you come by as well, dear? We’d love a chance to catch up with you.”

Don wrenched his gaze from Marlena’s tipsy, sleepy smile. “I’d like that. And as I also need a cab, I’ll walk you out.” He nodded toward John and Marlena before turning to leave.

Marlena looked up at John as the three of them walked away. “How about you? Are you ready to call it a night?”

He nodded. “I suppose, now that my plan to sleep in ’til noon tomorrow

has been shot all to hell. Let’s go get in line for the cabs.” They
followed Shawn, Caroline and Don toward the elevator as the
remaining partygoers fell into an exuberant rendition of “Time Warp”,
led by a laughing Mike and Carrie.
***

“God, I’m tired,” Marlena muttered as she fumbled for the light switch next to the front door, before finally deciding that the pounding behind her eyes preferred the shadowed darkness. “I’m about ready to fall asleep in these clothes.” She twisted the bolt to the ‘locked’ position and dragged her feet across the room.

“If that wouldn’t cause nightmares, nothing would,” John replied as he collapsed onto the couch. “But, God, it was fun.”

Marlena dropped down next to him. “Mmm-hmm,” she murmured, her head lolling on his shoulder. “I suppose one of us should go check on the kids.”

A low rumble of laughter caused John’s chest to vibrate underneath

her cheek. “I suppose that ‘one of us’ means me, hmmm?”

Marlena chuckled sleepily as she rolled her head back against the couch cushion. “You got it, cowboy.”

With a grunt of supreme effort, John managed to get to his feet. “Your wish is my command, milady. I’ll be right back.” He made his way toward the stairs, muttering under his breath at every step.

Marlena closed her eyes and giggled after he’d disappeared from view. Nothing like getting a fiance who’s already broken in, she thought, stifling a yawn. She had almost fallen asleep when the snick of the bolt on the front door unlocking jarred her to wakefulness. ***

“G’night, Jeannie,” John murmured under his breath as he closed the door to Sami’s room, grinning at the sight he’d just beheld. The harem costume lay strewn about the room in careless abandon, and Sami had collapsed on the bed attired in an old Yankees nightshirt that he’d purchased for her years ago. Brady, Belle and Will had slumbered in similar states of somnolence, so he headed for the stairs, his parental duty done.

A noise from the living room caught his attention as he started down the steps. “Doc?” He rounded the turn of the landing in time to see Marlena collapse in a boneless heap on the living room carpet.

“Doc!!” he screamed as he vaulted down the remaining stairs, landing on the ground floor with a thump of booted feet. “*Doc!*” Chapter 52

“Going so soon?” Vivian inquired of Kristen in a loud, slightly-drunken stage whisper. Ivan held his Madame’s elbow in an unsteady grip, a goofy smile on his face. The three of them were waiting for taxicabs out in front of the Titan building. The party was still going strong upstairs; the medical interns had commandeered the karaoke machine in an explosion of off-key sound that had grated on Kristen’s shattered nerves. She’d departed immediately thereafter, as there had been no

real reason to stay once John and Marlena had left, anyway.

Kristen sighed. “Let’s just say it’s a good thing those interns are planning to be doctors, because *none* of them have a future in show business.”

Vivian rolled her eyes toward Ivan. “Is that the only reason you’re leaving? It wouldn’t be because you recognized the complete failure of your little plan to use Marlena’s ex-husband to come between her and John?”

Kristen raised a superior eyebrow. “What makes you think Don Craig was a part of my plan?”

“Are you trying to tell me he wasn’t? Look, Kristen, you told us that a blast from the past would be hitting Marlena tonight, and, frankly, the reappearance of Don Craig was the only thing that qualified. And as explosions go, that one was a real dud.”

Kristen compressed her lips as a cab rolled to a halt at the curb, and she watched silently as Ivan and Vivian helped each other into the back seat. She didn’t respond to their perfunctory goodbyes, and her gaze didn’t follow the car as it pulled away. Instead she raised her eyes to the stars, a small, satisfied smile appearing on her lips. “The night isn’t over yet,” she murmured in a pleased tone. “Is it, Marlena?” ***

“Doc!” John whispered urgently, sliding a hand underneath her head where it rested on the floor. Marlena lay sprawled on the carpet where she had collapsed moments before. A quick check of her heartbeat and breathing revealed both were rapid, but not alarmingly so. He rocked back on his heels, his immediate panic dissipating, and it was then that a pair of booted feet in the open doorway caught his attention. He looked up into the shadows, and the sight he beheld caused him to lose his balance and fall backward on his butt. “Ro-” he swallowed thickly. “Roman? Is that you?”

The figure in the doorway seemed to awaken from some sort of

trance. “John,” it replied in an even, emotionless tone.

John blinked and squinted upward through the darkness that shrouded the living room. It *sounded* like Roman as well, but, then, he’d had a lot to drink that night. “Roman?” he repeated uncertainly.

The figure reached a hand toward the light switch on the wall. John winced as bright illumination flooded the room and the other man moved forward to kneel next to him. “Yeah, it’s me,” Roman replied gruffly, his eyes locked on Marlena’s prostrate form. “What’s wrong with her?”

The incongruity of having a conversation with a dead man finally penetrated John’s foggy consciousness. “What’s *wrong* with her?” he repeated incredulously as he gathered his fiancee up in his arms. “What the hell do you *think* is wrong with her? She saw *you* walk through the door – with no warning, no preparation! How did you think she would react?” He rose on unsteady legs to carry her toward the couch.

“I didn’t think she’d be here,” Roman pointed out reasonably. “I thought she’d be at the Penthouse. I was going to call her tomorrow from my hotel, but when I got into town, I just got the urge to see the house again. I wasn’t even sure the old key would work…” his voice trailed off as a look of irritation crossed his face. “Why the hell am I explaining this to you? What are *you* doing here?”

“At the moment,” John replied through gritted teeth, “I’m trying to make sure that the shock you gave her did no permanent damage.” As if in answer Marlena murmured under her breath and swatted at his hand. “Good, I think she’ll be okay. She should come out of it in a few minutes.”

Roman frowned as he finally noticed what they were wearing. “Why in the world are you two dressed like that?”

John looked down at the remains of Sonny and Cher-dom and

grimaced. “We were at a party. And we had rather a lot of champagne. In fact, I thought you were a drunken vision when I first saw you.”

Roman slumped down on the arm of the couch, his eyes still locked on Marlena. “If that’s the sort of drunken vision you tend to have, you need to drink better booze. But I guess maybe that’s what she thought, too,” he concluded. “She took one look at me and fainted dead away. Though I think both of your reactions were a bit extreme, don’t you?”

John scowled up at him. “Oh, you thought we’d say, ‘Hey, Roman, welcome back from the dead – Wanna see your tombstone?'” His lip curled derisively. “That’s a hell of a way to treat your family, Roman. I don’t care *how* important your damn mission was.”

Roman’s mouth fell open in shock. “What are you *talking* about? What do you mean, ‘Back from the *dead*!?!'”

John regarded him speculatively as he attempted to judge whether the surprise in Roman’s voice was genuine. “We buried you weeks ago, Roman,” he finally said. “Shane Donovan *confirmed* that the DNA tests on the remains *proved* they were yours. Major Dodd came all the way to Salem to tell us about your last brave mission and your *noble* sacrifice…” John’s voice trailed off as he watched the other man’s face redden.

Roman shot up from the couch, his fists clenched at his sides. “Those *bastards*! No *wonder* they tried to keep me in Washington when I told them I was coming back to Salem after the mission debrief. I spent the whole damn day in Dodd’s office while he put me off with half-assed excuses and busywork. They were probably trying to figure out a way to justify telling my family I was dead. Goddamn it!” He whirled around to pin John with a look. “Are Mom and Pop okay? What about the kids?”

“They took it hard,” John replied quietly, slightly mollified by Roman’s obvious anger. “About how you’d think they would. It hit Sami the

hardest, but she’s doing better now.”

“Sami.” Roman inhaled deeply. “Yeah, she does seem to have trouble dealing with difficulties, doesn’t she?”

John caressed Marlena’s cheek gently, winning a half- conscious smile in reaction. He looked back up at Roman. “What exactly do you know about Sami, Roman? I know that she and Carrie and Caroline used to write to you, but Carrie and Caroline both told me they never got a reply to any of their letters. They weren’t sure if you knew about any of the things that Sami had done.”

“I know *everything*,” he snapped back shortly. “I *wrote* replies, I swear I did. Sometimes I didn’t get the letters until months after they’d been written, but I *did* write back. My contact *promised* me that he’d get them out to my family.” He laughed bitterly. “Of course, he worked for the same people who told everyone I was *dead*, didn’t he? Damn them to hell!”

John looked down at Marlena. “You can’t trust the ISA, Roman,” he murmured softly. “I’ve known that ever since Chief Vaughn had them kidnap Doc. They don’t care who they hurt as long as they get what they want.”

“And they got their money’s worth out of me,” Roman muttered darkly. “I may not *be* dead but I came damn close plenty of times. And this is how they repay me…” He turned to regard Marlena contemplatively. “I guess that explains the faint, doesn’t it? That’s exactly what she did the last time I came back from the dead.” Another hollow laugh. “God, there aren’t many people in the world who can say a sentence like that and mean it, are there?”

“Nowhere except Salem,” John agreed. “But, Roman, what-” A murmur from Marlena cut him off mid-sentence. He leaned down and caressed her cheek. “Doc? Honey? Are you awake?”

She groaned and shielded her eyes from the light with her hand. “Ooh,

ouch. Did I pass out? Who turned on the light?” She grimaced as she peeked out from under her eyelashes at John. “I admit it, John. You were right, I did have too much champagne tonight. You won’t believe what I thought…I…saw…” Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of the figure seated at the end of the couch. “Roman?” she whispered, stunned.

He managed a smile. “Yeah. It’s me, Doc.”

Her hand tightened on John’s arm as she shot him an incredulous glance. “But-…But *how*?”

“The ISA lied, Doc,” he replied simply, and then watched as perfect understanding lit her eyes.

“Big surprise,” Marlena muttered as she struggled to a sitting position and extricated herself from John’s embrace. She peered closely at Roman’s face and inhaled sharply. “They told me,” she murmured softly, almost to herself. “They told me, and I believed them, but…”

“Yeah,” Roman replied. “The ISA is good at getting people to believe in them. Hell, *I* believed in them.”

“No,” she whispered, her gaze never wavering. “I’m not talking about that, and, anyway, I didn’t believe the ISA, I believed Shane.”

He watched her guardedly as she inched toward him on the sofa. “What are you talking about, then?”

Marlena settled on the far right cushion and tilted her head back to regard him where he sat perched on the arm of the couch. She reached a tentative hand toward his face, gasping reflexively when her fingers brushed his cheek. He flinched and she snatched her hand away, scooting back along the cushions until she bumped into John’s comforting bulk. “You’re real,” she gulped, sinking into John’s arms.

Roman’s brow furrowed. “Yes…”

She craned her neck to look up at John. “I believed you,” she murmured, “but-”

“I know, Doc. I understand.”

“Well, I don’t,” Roman interrupted plaintively, irked by their silent communication. “What’s going on?”

Marlena turned to look at him. “You’re Roman,” she replied simply. “And I knew you were…Everyone *said* you were, but-”

Roman frowned. “Who the hell else would I be?” he asked querulously.

“Not you,” she replied. “John.”

“What?”

“Not who else *you* would be,” she elaborated. “Who else *John* would be. Who else I once thought he *was*.”

“You once thought he was me,” Roman replied slowly, still confused.

Marlena nodded. “You see, I was sho-…in an accident last year. I had a head injury and was unconscious for a while, and when I finally woke up-” she inhaled deeply before plunging onward, “I, um…I still thought that was true. Thought that John was you, I mean.”

Roman slid off the arm of the couch and landed on the far cushion with a muffled thump. “What?” he managed to ask in a strangled voice.

“I thought he was you,” she repeated. “I couldn’t remember the past ten years – I thought it was 1986, and he and I were still married and the kids were still kids.” She sighed. “I still don’t remember any of the lost time, actually. But everyone has filled in all the blanks, and I

*know* John isn’t you. It’s just strange finally seeing the two of you in the same room together, that’s all.” She laughed a bit hollowly and glanced up at John. “Three husbands in one day. That’s got to be some kind of record.”

“Let me get this straight,” Roman interrupted, completely missing her final addendum. “You don’t *remember* anything that has happened since 1986? Being taken by Stefano, coming back to Salem…er, giving birth to Belle?”

Marlena winced as she mentally filled in the gaps in his sentence. “No,” she answered softly. “None of it.” John squeezed her shoulders sympathetically.

Roman stared blankly down at his hands, his mind racing. An awkward silence descended over the room. It was finally broken by a small voice which came from over by the stairs.

“Daddy?” Brady called sleepily. He stood on the bottom step, clad in blue fuzzy-footed pajamas.

John stood up from the couch and crossed the room to sweep his son up into a hug. “Slugger, what are you doing up? You should have been asleep ages ago.”

“Was,” Brady claimed, rubbing at his eyes with one small fist. “Sami read us G’night Moon again. But I missed you. Did’ja have fun at the party?”

John kissed him on the forehead. “Sure did, son. We had a great time.”

Brady grinned up at him impishly. “Sami said you sang a song in front of *everybody*. I didn’t know you could sing, Daddy.”

John groaned and pretended to strangle Brady with a hug. The little boy giggled. “I can’t, Slugger. That’s why Sami thought it was so

funny. So if you came down here for a demonstration, I’m afraid you’re out of luck.”

Brady twined his arms around his father’s neck. “Who’s that, Daddy?” he asked, ducking his head and pointing at Roman.

John glanced uncomfortably toward Roman. “Oh, um, that’s Sami and Carrie’s daddy. His name is Roman Brady, and he knew you when you were just a little squirt. Why don’t you say hello?”

“Hi,” Brady offered shyly.

Roman managed a friendly smile. “Hi, Brady. Boy, you sure have grown since I saw you last.”

Brady regarded him for a moment, wide-eyed, as he fingered the broad collar of John’s Sonny Bono shirt. He looked up at his father. “Are we still goin’ fishin’ with Grandpa tomorrow, Daddy?”

“Mmm-hmm. And we’re going to the Pub for a pancake breakfast first, so I think you’d better get back to bed, Slugger. You don’t want to fall asleep on the fish.”

“Nope,” Brady giggled as John swung him up on his shoulders. “G’night, Mr. Brady. G’night, Mommy.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Marlena replied, smiling tenderly. Once they’d disappeared up the stairs she turned her gaze to Roman.

He was watching her. “He calls you mommy,” he murmured, his face expressionless.

“Yes,” she confirmed. “He told me Belle offered to share me with him, so he could have a mommy on Earth as well as an angel- mommy in heaven. I told him I was honored, and I am.”

Roman averted his gaze and rubbed his hand along the back of the

couch. “I suppose you’re the only mother he’s ever known, really. It was nice of Belle to offer to share you with him.”

“Yes, it was,” she agreed, her brow furrowing. “Does it…does it bother you to speak of Belle?”

He shrugged, still avoiding her gaze. “It’s been three years, Marlena.”

“That’s not an answer, Roman,” she replied. “And the simple fact that you didn’t contact your family at all for three years after you divorced me and left town suggests rather strongly that it *does* still bother you.”

Roman felt the welling of the old familiar anger that had always burned at the sound of her ‘psychiatrist-voice’. He’d always hated it when she treated him like one of her patients. “She was my *daughter*, Marlena. And then all of a sudden one day, she wasn’t anymore. You don’t just *get over* that.”

“And yet you expected *him* to, didn’t you?” she replied, meeting his furious gaze unflinchingly. “You came back, declared that *you* were the real Roman Brady, and took back your life – your family, your home, your job…and your kids. And you just expected him to let go of all of it.”

Roman scowled. “Are you arguing with my right to do that? I didn’t *ask* to be taken from my family for eight years. I didn’t ask to be *replaced* by a brainwashed priest. It isn’t *my* fault that Stefano’s a sick, sadistic bastard!”

“It isn’t John’s fault, either,” Marlena shot back, before biting her lip to choke back the tirade that threatened to burst forth. Her shoulders slumped and she rubbed her forehead tiredly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just been a very long day and I’m incredibly tired and more than a little worse for a couple of gallons of alcohol.” She ran her fingers through her hair and rotated her shoulders in an attempt to work the kinks out. She took a deep breath and looked

back up at Roman, managing to muster up a small smile in the process. “I know this probably wasn’t the homecoming you’d imagined. It’s just…well, I’d finally reconciled myself to not ever seeing you again. To not having the opportunity to make some kind of peace with you, and with the person I was for all those years I can’t remember. I guess I just…don’t know what to say to you right now.”

“I understand,” he replied simply. “You’ve had quite a shock.”

She nodded. “And I think I’ll do a much better job of dealing with it tomorrow.” She raised an eyebrow. “I suppose you’ll be wanting to break the news to the family fairlyquickly?”

He cleared his throat. “Um, yes, as soon as possible, actually. I don’t like imagining how believing I’m dead must be affecting them.”

“They’ll be thrilled to see you, I’m sure. Why don’t you come over to the Pub with us tomorrow and surprise your folks, and then we can call Carrie, Eric, Bo, Kim, Kayla…everybody.”

“What about Sami?”

Marlena gestured toward the stairs. “She’s upstairs asleep right now. So is Will. Do you want to wake her up and tell her?”

“No,” he replied, smiling a bit ruefully. “I think maybe I could use a good night’s sleep before facing that. I’ll tell her first thing in the morning.”

“And meet your grandson,” Marlena added, smiling.

Roman’s own smile faded a bit. “Yeah.”

Marlena studied his face for a moment before waving a hand toward the laundry room. “I, uh, hope you don’t mind taking the couch for the night. Sami’s got her room, Belle has Carrie’s, Brady has Eric’s, and Will is in the guest room, so there aren’t any free beds upstairs. The

linens and pillows are in the closet where they always were.”

“It’s no problem,” he replied stiffly as he realized whose sleeping arrangements she had carefully omitted mentioning. “I’ll be fine.”

Marlena nodded and turned toward the stairs. She paused on the first step and looked back over her shoulder. “In case I forgot to mention it,” she murmured softly, tears filling her expressive hazel eyes, “I’m incredibly happy that you’re alive Roman. And I’m so glad you’ve come back to us.” She offered him a heart-melting smile.

He swallowed and managed a hoarse, “Thank you.”

She gazed at him for a long, endless moment before turning to

disappear up the steps. Roman stood frozen in the middle of the room
for several minutes. Then he skirted the couch to follow her up the
stairs.
***
John sat on the edge of the big double bed in the bedroom he and
Marlena shared. He stared out the back window into the star- filled
night, his mind racing. What does this mean? How does his coming
back affect Doc and me? The day after we get engaged, *he* shows
up. Not to mention, Don Craig, too! Now that’s a hell of a
coincidence… Lost in thought, he didn’t hear the squeak of hinges that
signalled the opening of the bedroom door. The first inkling he had
that he was no longer alone was the sudden sag of the mattress
behind him. A soft pair of hands slipped around his neck and down his

chest as Marlena hugged him to her.

“You didn’t have to hurry up here,” he told Marlena softly without turning to look back at her. “I got Brady all settled in. You could have stayed and talked to Roman for a while.”

She rested her chin on the top of his head. “I know,” she replied. “I peeked in on Brady, but he isn’t the reason that I came upstairs so quickly. I think I need a little time to…*process* things. Frankly, I had no idea what to say to him.”

John reached up to rub her arms with his hands. “I understand,” he murmured. “But it was different, wasn’t it? Your reaction to seeing him? Than it was with Don, I mean.”

Marlena slid around his side and scooted into his lap. She looked up at him solemnly. “Yes, it was a lot different. Of course it was. With Don there had been a real good-bye between us, you know? An ending. But with Roman…” She sighed. “With Roman, my last memory is of him boarding that damn plane to go after Stefano. I remember Bo coming back and telling me that his brother had died in his arms. I remember being so damn *angry* at him for leaving me all alone…”

John hugged her to his chest. “He didn’t mean to. He never would have left you on purpose. He never wanted that, Doc.”

“I know that,” she replied, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “At least, I know that’s not what he wanted *then*. And, intellectually, I know that later Roman and I *did* have the kind of ending that Don and I did. We’re divorced. He decided he couldn’t remain married to me and he left me. And I accept that. But I don’t have those *feelings* of separation. It’s like our life together was a book, and the last few chapters are missing. It’s…incomplete somehow.”

John closed his eyes as a shiver of trepidation ran down his spine. He’d heard those words – or something similar to them – many times before. When he and Marlena had discussed *their* life and *their* marriage. When he and Marlena had tried to explain to Roman the reasons for their affair. *We never had a chance to resolve the feelings between us*…Is it possible that those words have returned to haunt me just when I believed I would have everything I wanted?

He shook his head and opened his eyes. “We can deal with this, Doc. And I’m glad you have the chance to resolve things with Roman now. I’m glad Mom and Pop will have their son back, and Sami, Carrie, and Eric will have their father. I really am.”

Marlena squeezed him around the waist. “I know you’re glad, John. But it’s only human for you to wonder what that means for your role in the family – your relationship to Shawn and Caroline, your place in the children’s lives.” She tilted her head back to look up at him with clear, determined eyes. “They love you, John. Remember that. Nothing in the world could ever change how important you are to them.”

“I know,” he replied softly, hoping she heard more certainty in his voice than he felt in his heart. He knew that the Bradys loved him, but Roman was their *blood* and their *history*, and the guilt they’d felt upon finding out that they’d accepted an imposter as a member of their family had never truly gone away. It hadn’t been so bad before Roman had found out about the affair, because his relationship with John had been friendly – almost brotherly in the days before Belle’s baptism. But that friendliness had utterly evaporated the moment he’d confirmed his part in Marlena’s infidelity, and it had shown no sign of returning in the weeks before Roman had left town. Sure, he’d saved their lives at Maison Blanche, but the expression on his face as he’d watched Marlena’s attempt to seduce Stefano to get the key to free John…the anger in his voice as he had questioned her willingness to go that far for *anyone* else…

John closed his eyes and hugged Marlena tighter. He’d just have to hope that Roman’s return signalled a willingness to put the past behind them. “I love you, Marlena,” he whispered, unaware that he’d spoken it aloud.

“I love you, too,” she replied fervently, reaching up to frame his cheeks between her hands. “I love you.” Her lips captured his in a sensuous kiss. She twisted in his lap to wrap her legs around his waist, pushing him down until his back rested on the bed. Her fingers slid down his shirt to nimbly unfasten the top two buttons. “I love you…”

“Doc,” he groaned, wrenching his lips from hers and capturing her hands underneath his to stop their descent. “Maybe we shouldn’t-”

“Why not?” she whispered, raining kisses down his neck. “We’re

engaged to be married. We’re entitled to celebrate. In fact,” she added, chuckling softly, “I really think it’s mandatory.”

“But, Roman…” he began – then his voice trailed off as he realized he didn’t know exactly what it was he wanted to say.

She shook her head impatiently. “He’s asleep on the couch by now. Roman has nothing to do with this, John. Finding out he’s alive doesn’t change anything. When we made love again for the first time, we thought he was alive then, didn’t we? Roman and I are divorced, by his choice. Nothing has changed.” She gave him another long, deep, searching kiss, and then whispered, “Nothing’s changed at all.”

John pulled her down on top of his chest, attacking the buttons of her

blouse. Within moments they were both lost in a haze of stormy,
overwhelming desire. But even as he made love to the woman he
cherished more than anyone in the world, John couldn’t keep his mind
from racing in unfortunate directions. The refrain of his thoughts was
simple, monotonous…and devastating: You’re wrong, Doc.
Everything’s changed…Everything.
***

Roman stared down at the little girl he’d once believed was his own child. She lay curled in the middle of the big pink bed, a large stuffed bunny clutched in her left hand, her lips pursed in childish sleep. She looked serene and beautiful, and the resemblance to Sami when she’d been that small was so pronounced it made his heart ache.

Belle rolled over, muttering softly, and his attention was drawn to the framed pictures on the bedside table. One showed Belle and Brady, dressed in Halloween costumes, waving bags stuffed full of candy with childish glee. Another showed them with their parents, sitting on a bench somewhere – a happy family portrait. And a third was simply of Belle and her father, her face wreathed in a happy smile as John gazed proudly down upon her.

Roman closed his eyes and stumbled blindly from the room into the

hallway. He closed the door softly behind him and bowed his forehead against the wood. Oh, my sweet, sweet, little baby… He breathed deeply, trying to calm his racing heart, as he turned around and leaned against the wall. The door to Sami’s room caught his eye, and he considered creeping in to see his daughter, but he wasn’t sure what he’d say to her if she awakened. He didn’t know how he’d face the person his daughter had become, because, if he were honest with himself, he had to admit his own culpability in her transformation. As long as he’d remained away from Salem, he’d somehow managed to blame his daughter’s descent into deception and trickery on the affair her mother had had with John. But coming home brought him face to face with his own neglect of her, and he simply couldn’t deal with that tonight.

He pushed away from the wall and started down the hallway, pausing imperceptibly in the doorway to the guestroom. Behind that piece of wood lies my firstborn grandson, he thought, faintly ashamed that the joy he’d expected to feel upon that birth was absent. That damn Austin Reed…I knew he’d bring nothing but pain to my daughters.

A faint noise from down the hallway broke into his silent reverie. He walked toward the stairs, his footsteps slowing as he approached the master bedroom and the sounds became more distinct. The door to that room, even when closed, had always fitted imperfectly. I always meant to fix that, he thought distractedly, running his finger down the quarter-inch gap.

“Oh, *John*…” Marlena’s impassioned voice filtered out from within, causing his gut to clench. *My* wife, *my* bedroom, was his immediate possessive thought. He pushed away from the door and thumped back against the opposite wall, shaking his head angrily. No! You divorced her! You gave up that right! He rubbed his fists against his temples, unable to squelch his mind’s next inevitable, hopeful rebuttal, But she doesn’t remember that, does she?

“I love you, Doc!” John’s hoarse, urgent avowal sounded clearly from the bedroom, accompanied by the squeak of bedsprings.

“I love you, John,” came her low cry of reply. “Only you…” The words ceased, but the pictures in Roman’s mind did not. He didn’t realize he’d slammed his fist into the wall until the pain in his knuckles finally penetrated the red haze in front of his eyes. He looked at the small dent in the wall plaster, and then back at the bedroom door. The room’s occupants apparently hadn’t heard the noise.

Gritting his teeth, Roman turned and fled down the stairs. Chapter 53

“You know, you are a very beautiful woman, Carrie Brady, but I have to be honest with you – frankly, you look like hell.” Mike grinned down at Carrie and ducked out of Shawn’s way as the older man swept by carrying a tray full of champagne glasses. Mike groaned upon seeing them, and he made a mental note to turn teetotaler after the revels of the previous evening.

Carrie added a final flourish of magic marker to the banner on the bar in front of her and turned sleep-deprived, sparkling eyes on Mike. “Well, I have to be honest with you, too, Mike Horton. You don’t look *any* better than I do.”

Mike clutched a hand to his heart and feigned a mortal wound. “Ooh, direct hit.” They laughed. “So, just tell me what to do to help get this engagement party going.”

Carrie capped her pen with an audible *snap*. “Well, Grandma has the pancake batter made and the rest of the food under control. Grandpa’s got the drinks. All that’s left is the finishing touches on the decorations.” They turned to look at Austin, who was muttering under his breath over an unsuccessful attempt to attach balloons to the central pillar. Carrie looked up at Mike with a rueful smile. “Want to help me hang this banner?”

“Sure,” he replied, reaching for one end. “So, how many people do you think are going to show up for this shindig? And how many are going to bury their heads under the pillows and call in sick?”

“Like I wanted to do?” Carrie asked. “Let me tell you, this idea to throw John and Marlena a surprise engagement party seemed like a pretty stupid one when the alarm went off this morning after only three hours of sleep.”

Mike grimaced his agreement and gazed around the room in satisfaction. “Don’t worry – everyone will show. And John and Marlena are going to love this.”

“I think you’re right,” Carrie agreed as she tore off a strip of tape. “I can’t wait to see their faces when they open the door to find everyone they know and love waiting for them. This is going to be *some* surprise!”

***

“I’m sorry, Roman,” Major Dodd finally concluded in a tired voice. The vagaries of time zones meant it was an hour later on the Eastern seaboard, but Roman hadn’t exactly waited for a civilized hour of the morning to place his call. “I know that’s inadequate, and I’m truly sorry for the pain your family has gone through. But it was an honest mistake. No one was more surprised than the ISA when you showed up in Cairo after escaping from your captors. We’ll find whoever altered those DNA records, and he or she will be severely punished, I promise you.”

Roman swallowed angrily and closed his eyes, his fingers gripping the phone tightly. The major sounded truly apologetic, but then, that would be the case no matter what the truth was, wouldn’t it? The two men hadn’t exactly become friends during their three years of working together; the emotional abyss in which Roman had found himself during that time had precluded developing close personal relationships. But Roman had trusted the man in the manner of comrades-in-arms – the rules which saida soldier could lie, trick, and deceive the enemy but the relationship between allies was sacrosanct.

At least it was to Roman. But if he’d wasted that loyalty on an

organization that could dismiss the feelings of his family so easily…did that make the last three years of his life a meaningless failure? Just one more mistake to add to the many he’d made since his return from Stefano’s captivity?

“I’m sure you’ll do what you have to,” Roman replied finally, his statement one of exceeding ambiguity – a fact which was not lost on either man. I don’t trust you, was, in effect, what Roman had said. John’s words of the previous evening echoed over and over in his mind: You can’t trust the ISA, Roman…They don’t care who they hurt as long as they get what they want… Roman had spent an entire sleepless night pondering the pain his family had endured because of what Dodd now called an ‘honest mistake’. And he’d concluded that no explanation for their actions would be sufficient. Especially not this one.

Dodd finally ended the long, uncomfortable silence stretching between them. “Roman…we still need to debrief you about your mission. We could send someone to Salem-”

The tenuous control Roman had been exerting over his boiling temper snapped. “No, you will not! The *last* thing my family needs is to see *anyone* from the ISA! So here’s my debrief – the bad guys are dead. *I* am not. The information you sent me to retrieve is in my preliminary report, which is in your possession. That’s all I have to say…and will *ever* have to say to anyone in the ISA from this moment forward. Except, of course, for *I* *QUIT*!” He slammed the phone down with such force that he chipped the plastic edge of the receiver.

“I suppose the standard rule about two weeks notice doesn’t really apply in this situation,” offered a wry, sympathetic voice from the stairway.

Roman turned to face John, desperately attempting to quash the memory of overhearing his lovemaking with Marlena the previous night. “I don’t think so,” he agreed in a tight voice. “Dodd said the DNA records had been altered in the ISA database so they would match the

remains the agents found in the terrorist camp. Thus, the ISA reported me dead to my family because they truly believed I was.”

The scowl on John’s face expressed his disbelief. “So he wants you to believe the terrorists infiltrated the ISA to plant misinformation about you? For what purpose? Or didn’t he have an answer for that?”

Roman rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I didn’t ask him for one. I didn’t want to put him to all the trouble of having to think one up. Obviously the ISA saw it to their advantage for everyone to believe I was dead. Just think how much more effective an operative I would be – almost a phantom in the shadows – no ties, no weaknesses.” He closed his eyes. “I don’t know – maybe they figured I just wouldn’t care, anyway. I suppose you wouldn’t think that I did if you judged me only by my behavior these past three years.” A silence fell, eventually broken by an ironic laugh from Roman. “I notice you aren’t disagreeing with me.”

“I won’t lie to you, Roman,” John replied quietly. “But I also won’t do you the disservice of saying anyone who truly knows you could believe you don’t care about your family. I know that’s not true.”

“But I have a funny way of showing it, right? You don’t have to try to spare my feelings, John. I know exactly what I’ve done.”

John crossed his arms awkwardly across his chest, the navy terrycloth of his robe exposing a vee of hardened muscle. “The family will be so glad to have you back that it won’t matter, Roman.”

A wry, pained smile marred Roman’s lips. “You’re probably right. And hearing *that* makes me feel even worse, which I didn’t think was possible. Thanks, John.”

John’s wan answering smile was sympathetic. “Sorry. Look, Doc and I are going to give the kids a bath before we all head over to the Pub. Sami’s not up yet, but she should be any minute now. Do you want us to prepare her first?”

Roman shook his head. “No. I caused this mess. It’s my responsibility to clean it up.”

John regarded him silently for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Do you need anything? Clothes, a razor?”

“No. Thanks, though. I left my suitcase on the porch last night, and I remembered to bring it in this morning. I have everything I need.”

John nodded again, then turned and disappeared up the stairs, leaving Roman to ponder his inexplicably amicable reaction to the man who’d destroyed his marriage. He well remembered his last real conversation with John, when they’d almost come to blows in a hospital room in New Orleans. John had begged him not to leave Marlena, to give their marriage another chance, and Roman had almost punched him out for his temerity. You know you’ll *never* love another woman the way you love Marlena! John had said, salt in the wounds to a man who dissected every utterance for hidden meaning. He’d heard John’s words as a declaration of war – a statement of the timelessness of his own feelings for Marlena, and his place in her heart.

It had taken him years to consider that John might have been truly sincere in his efforts on their behalf. Roman wasn’t altogether sure about that supposition, but in a weak moment it had led him to pen the letters he’d left in Major Dodd’s care. He cringed at the thought of John and Marlena reading those words. He knew they had done so, because Dodd had confirmed that he’d fulfilled Roman’s last request in a voice tinged with something close to malicious satisfaction. Maybe he thought I’d be too *humiliated* to come back here after that. And he might well have been, if he’d had any idea what he was walking into – the apparently happy home of a heartbreakingly beautiful, ever-gracious Dr. Marlena Evans and a polite, almost friendly John Black. I won’t lie to you, Roman… John had said – words that made Roman feel faintly ashamed.

Because he *had* lied in those letters – well-intentioned lies, but lies nonetheless. And John and Marlena had obviously believed them – or

were choosing to act as if they had, which amounted to the same thing. They hadn’t tried to hide their relationship, and, more tellingly, hadn’t seemed remotely ashamed or guilty about it, either. Which made his memories of John’s assertions about the permanence of Roman’s feelings for Marlena even more painfully ironic – because if he had taken the advice John had given him all those years ago in New Orleans, it might have been he who’d shared her bed last night.

Roman squeezed his eyes shut and collapsed onto the couch. Don’t think about that! It’s too damn late, Roman. Don’t put everyone through this hell all over again. Let it go…

But as he remembered the look on Marlena’s face before she’d fainted the previous evening – a fleeting look of surprise, joy and something deliriously close to love – he couldn’t help the spark of hope igniting within his heart. Even as he acknowledged all the mistakes he’d made since their return in 1991, he couldn’t help but relish the fact that she remembered nary a one of them. They had a clean slate between them, almost as if it were waiting for them to begin writing their story anew.

And he loved her so damn much.

“Doc…” he moaned underneath his breath, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands. “Oh, Doc…”

The sound of a quiet footstep caused him to twist around to face the stairs. His haunted eyes soon beheld his youngest daughter making her way down the steps, a curtain of tousled blonde hair concealing her face as she whispered something to the yawning little boy nestled in her arms. Roman held his tongue until she reached the bottom of the stairs, concerned that startling her might make her drop the child.

“Sami?” he whispered in a strangled voice when she’d reached the ground floor.

His daughter looked up, her clear blue eyes widening with shocked

surprise even as the blood drained from her face. Her lips moved, but no sound emerged. She cleared her throat and tried again. “Daddy?”

Sudden tears filled his eyes. She was so incredibly beautiful, resembling nothing less than a sleepy, young Madonna with child. Will rested easily on her hip and gazed up at Roman with innocent eyes, one small fist clutching a lock of his mother’s golden hair. “It’s me, peanut,” Roman said in voice roughened by emotion. “I’m home.”

“Home…” she parroted, mindlessly reaching out to grip the back of the couch with her free hand. Will squirmed on her hip and she carefully knelt down to lower him to the floor, never taking her eyes off of her father. “Are you…are you *real*?”

“Very real,” he confirmed, quickly skirting the couch to come to a halt in front of her, wanting nothing more than to pull her into a fierce embrace. But something about the way she watched him stayed his arms.

She reached out with tentative fingers to lightly touch his chest as tears filled her eyes. “Daddy…” she whimpered softly, drawing her hand back to cover her mouth. “Oh, Daddy…I thought you were dead.”

“I know,” he replied guiltily. “You mother and John told me what the ISA told the family. I’m so sorry, Peanut. I’m sorry you went through that hell when it was all a lie.”

“I’m all right,” she protested faintly, swaying slightly on her feet. He reached out to take her arm to steady her, managing with difficulty to hide his distress when she flinched at his touch. “Come sit down, honey. You’ve had quite a shock.”

“Yes, shock,” she repeated blankly, sinking down on the couch, her eyes staring dazedly straight ahead. Suddenly she turned to pin him with a piercing gaze. “Mom and John? They know you’re alive?”

He nodded. “I showed up on the doorstep last night and frightened

Marlena into a dead faint – though whether it was due more to the shock of my appearance or the champagne she drank I have to wonder. They told me everything that’s happened. I asked them not to wake you – I figured this morning was soon enough to tell everybody.”

She laughed hollowly. “Oh, yeah, I’m sure a good night’s sleep will make this *much* easier for everyone to take.”

He offered her a wry, ironic grin. “I know, I know…you’d think this coming-back-from-the-dead would get easier the more often you do it.”

Sami made a face. “Yeah.” She inhaled deeply. “So, you said they told you everything that happened while you were…away?”

Roman eyed her carefully. “Yes, but they didn’t have to tell me most of it – I got everyone’s letters while I was gone. I even replied to them, but the ISA chose not to deliver my messages. I know everything you’ve done, Sami.”

She winced and averted her gaze to look at her son. He’d unearthed a small plastic truck from behind the easy chair and was running it across the carpet as he made motor noises underneath his breath. “I wasn’t talking about that,” she replied defensively. “There’s nothing you could say to me that anyone else in the family hasn’t already. I don’t need another lecture. Especially not from you.”

The accusing tone of her voice surprised Roman; not that he hadn’t heard her use it before – especially toward her mother – but she’d never directed it at him. Taken aback, he muttered distractedly, “Well, what were you talking about, then?”

“I’m talking about Stefano shooting Mom, the amnesia, why we’re living here – all of that.”

He held up a hand. “Wait a minute. Stefano *shot* Marlena?”

She nodded, surprised by his question. “We think so. We also think maybe she shot back at him as she was making her escape, since the doctors found out some of the blood on her was actually Stefano’s.”

Roman felt as if he’d stepped into a movie midway through the picture.

“Escape?” he repeated blankly.

“Yes. Stefano kidnapped Mom last summer and held her on a farm in Brookville in a giant metal cage. John couldn’t figure out where the hell she was, but Mom escaped on her own somehow, and that’s apparently when she was injured. She just showed up at St. Luke’s, covered in blood.” Sami frowned. “I can’t believe none of this came up last night. What exactly *did* they tell you, then?”

“They told me about the amnesia, but not about what caused it,” he replied. “They told me that Marlena can’t remember the past ten years, and that for a while she still believed John was me.”

“Yes,” Sami confirmed. “That’s why we moved in here, because when the doctors released her from the hospital, she thought we still lived here as a family. We weren’t supposed to do or say anything to upset her, until she remembered everything on her own.”

“But she hasn’t yet,” he concluded.

“No,” she agreed, eyeing him curiously as she tried to gauge his mood. “She found out the truth by accident, but she handled it pretty well. I suppose since she knew John as just ‘John Black, Amnesiac’, for so long before she ‘discovered’ he was you, the adjustment wasn’t as difficult as we’d anticipated.”

“Still…” he murmured, his mind racing. “So why are you still living here, now that she knows the truth?”

“The new house isn’t ready yet,” she told him. “We’re having the kitchen remodeled and the whole thing painted, and Mom hasn’t picked out the furniture yet, so it might be a while. Since this house

was never sold, we didn’t think there was any rush to move.”

He sat back on the cushion, stunned, but trying not to show it. “New house?”

“Mmm-hmm,” she confirmed, her eyes narrowing as she attempted to discern his true reaction to the news. “The one next to Victor’s. We needed a bigger place, since Will and I will be there, too.”

Roman’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “*You* want to live with John and Marlena?”

The thump of small bare feet on the stairs precluded Sami’s reply. The both turned to see a streak of tanned skin and Spiderman underwear dash across the room to disappear through the door to the laundry room. Heavier steps followed a bit more slowly, and John appeared at the foot of the stairs, slightly out of breath. “Did anyone see a small dirty child pass by?” he asked, then raised his voice to make it audible throughout the house. “A small dirty child who will be missing out on Grandpa’s pancakes if he doesn’t get his backside into the bathtub this minute!”

Brady peeked through the door, an impudent grin on his face. “I’m not dirty,” he insisted

John pointed at him. “Your mother will be the judge of that, young man. Get yourself up those stairs.”

Brady emerged through the door and smiled at Sami. “You comin’ with us?”

Sami shot a questioning glance toward John, who quickly explained about Caroline’s offer of a pancake breakfast before the fishing trip. “Sure I’ll go,” she told Brady cheerfully, “but not unless you take a bath.”

He adopted a hangdog expression as he trudged up the stairs,

passing under John’s outstretched arm where it lay braced against the wall. John eyed them apologetically. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you two. I know you have a lot to talk about.”

“No, it’s all right,” Sami assured him as Will tottered across the floor to pull on John’s pantleg. John looked down at him.

“Up!” the little boy demanded, raising his arms. John glanced uncomfortably at Roman, who managed to keep his face impassive. “*Up!*” Will insisted more loudly. “Airplane!”

John knelt down to gather the little boy in his arms, then raised him up above his head, swinging him back and forth in long, lazy arcs. Will giggled and stretched out his arms, the engine noises he made under his breath sounding remarkably like those he’d used for the truck earlier.

Roman glanced sideways at Sami to find her watching John and her son with a smile on her face. She saw him looking at her from the corner of her eye. “He loves to play airplane,” she informed him matter-of-factly. “He and Brady and Belle drive John crazy with it.”

“I’m sure,” Roman murmured, his gut twisting.

John swung Will around to land on his shoulders. “Would you like Doc and I to dunk him as well, Sami? There’s no reason for all three of us to get wet.”

“Sure, thanks,” Sami replied. John ducked down so Will wouldn’t hit his head on the ceiling as they made their way up the stairs. Sami turned to find her father watching her. “What?”

“You seem very close,” he offered neutrally. “It just surprised me a little.”

Something close to anger flared momentarily in her eyes. She took a deep breath and it disappeared. “Yeah, well, it can be exhausting being angry every minute of the day. I tried it for a long time, but

nothing I did ever made him leave. I finally realized nothing ever could.” There was a dangerous edge to her voice, almost a challenge.

“No, John would never leave,” he agreed softly, wounded by her implied accusation, but trying not to let it show.

She looked slightly mollified. “Anyway, he’s really good with Will, and the kids get along great. Since I’ve started classes, they’ve been spending a lot of time together with the nanny, as well as with John and Mom. That’s another reason I’m moving in with them – I want to make sure Will is well taken care of when I can’t be with him.”

Roman regarded her steadily for a moment. “What about Austin?” he asked, managing with difficulty to keep contempt from his tone as he uttered the man’s name.

She averted her eyes. “What about him? He spends as much time with Will as he can, but what with his job and Carrie, they can’t be together as much as I’d like. John helps fill in the gaps.”

“That shouldn’t surprise me…about Austin, I mean. Considering the kind of father *he* had, it’s about what I’d expect from him.”

Sami darted a surprised look toward her father. “Austin’s a *good* father, Daddy. But he and I aren’t together, and that’s always a bad situation for a child, no matter what the circumstances. Austin’s doing his best.”

“By marrying your sister?” Roman snapped. “Oh, yes, that’s a wonderful solution to the problem. I always knew that kid was nothing but trouble.”

Sami stared at him silently for a moment, a small furrow marring her brow. “Are you sure Carrie and Grandma told you *everything* that happened while you were gone?” she finally asked.

“Yes,” he muttered. “I know all about the drugs and the interrupted wedding and all your schemes.” Sami flushed and ducked her head.

“But I’m not a fool, Sami,” he continued. “I refuse to believe that Austin could have sex with you without meaning to. You were an innocent child already traumatized by…by what that Alan character did to you, and Austin had no business making the situation worse by not controlling himself. I can’t believe Carrie still wants to marry him.”

Sami bit her lip and stared down at her clasped hands. “Well, she does, and she swears nothing in the world will stop their wedding. She won’t be very happy with you if you try.”

“I’m her father,” Roman stated firmly. “I won’t lie to her about how I feel about this.”

Sami shrugged diffidently, secretly pleased by the thought of a wrinkle marring Carrie’s perfect life. “Well, that’s up to you…Anyway, are you coming with us to the Pub for this pancake breakfast thing?”

Roman looked up to see Marlena descending the staircase, Belle in her arms, her eyebrows raised as she anticipated the answer to Sami’s question. He swallowed thickly and nodded a ‘Yes’ at Sami, his gaze still locked on Belle’s small form. She had hooked one arm around Marlena’s neck, her other thumb planted solidly in her mouth. She was dressed in an oversize t-shirt and a tiny pair of jeans, a pair of scuffed sneakers on her feet, her golden hair shining in the sunlight streaming through the front windows. His heart ached at the sight of her.

Belle regarded the stranger in her living room with widened eyes, and tilted her head up to look questioningly at her mother. “This is Carrie and Sami’s daddy, Roman Brady,” Marlena told her, smiling. “Can you say hello?”

Belle’s gaze slid back toward Roman, but she didn’t take her thumb out of her mouth. Instead, she ducked her head into the curve of Marlena’s neck and closed her eyes. Marlena grimaced apologetically at Roman. “She’s still a little tired this morning,” she explained. He nodded wordlessly.

John came bounding down the stairs with Will in his arms and Brady trailing behind them. Brady’s hair was still wet, the damp brown locks dripping water on the well-worn Yankees jersey he wore. “We ready to go?” John asked, shooting Marlena a questioning glance.

She nodded and turned to Sami. “Why don’t you and your father take Will in my car? You still need it to take him in for his checkup later, don’t you?”

Sami nodded as John handed Will to her. “I’m taking him to Kate’s to play with Philip afterward. He’s staying with Austin tonight.” She shrugged. “It seemed like the best idea since I have to go to class later.”

“Well, John can drive me over to the office after we get Brady and Belle settle with Shawn. Why don’t you just keep the car all day?”

“Thanks, Mom,” Sami said, reaching for the keys. “We’ll see you over at the Pub, then.”

Marlena and John gathered up the children’s paraphernalia and waved a sketchy goodbye. Once they’d disappeared through the front door, Sami turned to regard her father intently. “Are you ready?” she asked, covering a wealth of questions in one small sentence.

Roman took a deep breath and exhaled gustily. “As I’ll ever be,” he affirmed, squelching a sudden feeling of trepidation. “Let’s go.”

***

“Well, what does everybody think?” Carrie asked, raising her arms to indicate the festively-bedecked interior of the Pub.

A chorus of approving cheers and nods answered her question, followed by more than a few groans as hangovers made themselves felt.

“It looks great,” Bo offered, grimacing slightly. “But we don’t really have to *yell* congratulations when they come in, do we? Don’t you think it might be better to whisper?”

The small crowd laughed as Carrie widened her eyes in sham innocence. “Why, Bo Aurelius Brady, are you telling me that you had too much to drink last night? Shame on you – hasn’t anyone ever told you that those evil spirits will be the death of you?”

“Evil nieces is more like it,” he muttered good-naturedly. “Looks like we got a pretty good turnout for the party, even if some of the guests look a bit like death warmed over.”

“Speak for yourself,” Don interjected, smiling. “I feel just fine.” A few of the assembled partygoers eyed him sourly. Carrie was about to reply when the ringing of the bell on the door signalled the arrival of more guests. Her voice caught in her throat as she turned to behold the newcomers.

“Oh, my,” Caroline murmured under her breath as she made her way to the door. “Kristen! Hello, Vivian, Ivan. Er, what are you doing here?”

“We came by for one of your fabulous Brady breakfasts,” Kristen offered sweetly, inwardly amused by the discomfort on the other woman’s face. Don’t want to have to tell me about throwing a surprise engagement party for Marlena and the father of my baby? Feeling a bit guilty? Good! Kristen furrowed her brow delicately and asked in a worried tone, “Why? Is something wrong?” Her eyes widened theatrically as she pretended to notice the banner stretched across the bar for the first time. “‘Congratulations’? To whom? What’s going on?” Next to her, Vivian rolled her eyes at Ivan over Kristen’s melodramatic performance.

Caroline glanced uncomfortably back toward Carrie and Shawn, who shrugged, nonplussed. She turned to face Kristen again, her expression sympathetic. “I’m sorry, dear. Had I know you were

planning to come here this morning, I would have warned you. We…ah, we’re throwing an engagement breakfast for John and Marlena.”

Kristen placed her hand over her pregnancy pillow and staggered back against a booth. “Oh,” she murmured, biting her lip.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Caroline said again, visibly distressed. “We never wanted to upset you.”

“I’m all right,” Kristen protested, waving back Caroline’s solicitous helping hand as she sank into a booth. Vivian and Ivan slid into the seat across from her, their faces screwed into identical expressions of confused puzzlement. She could almost read their minds – What is she up to now? She gloated inwardly as Caroline patted her hand and rushed off to get her a glass of water – You’ll see…any minute now…

Don’s ambivalent expression caught her eye, and she offered him a tremulous smile. He nodded back uncertainly.

“I see John’s car turning in!” Mike called excitedly from over by the front window, where he’d taken up a post as lookout. “Everyone get ready!” He reached over and switched off the overhead lights.

Kristen was forgotten in the rush to hide behind the booths and tables. Bo, Don, Jack and Jennifer disappeared down the hallway leading to the bathroom. Carrie, Austin, Shawn and Caroline hid behind the bar. Everyone else squeezed themselves in wherever there was a modicum of cover. Kristen ducked her head behind the high back of the booth, winking slyly at Vivian and Ivan, whose confusion hadn’t abated.

The bell above the door tinkled softly. “It’s open,” John observed, his voice partially muffled by the squeak of hinges. “I don’t think anyone’s around, though. The lights are off.”

“Maybe Shawn had a bit more to drink than he thought,” Marlena offered laughingly. “Why don’t we run upstairs and let the kids wake

them up? Let’s put you down, Belle, honey – I’ll get the lights.”

The moment the lights clicked on, their family and friends jumped out of their hiding places. “CONGRATULATIONS!” echoed across the room as John and Marlena were inundated with happy smiles and good wishes. Belle and Brady stood next to their parents and viewed the remarkable assembly with widened eyes.

“I’m so happy for you guys,” Carrie gushed as she hurried over to hug them. “Happy Surprise Engagement Breakfast!”

The smiles that had instinctively enveloped John and Marlena’s faces faded quickly and they traded uneasy glances. Carrie was oblivious to their changed mood as she pulled them into the center of the room, toward the table covered with of champagne flutes. “I know you probably never want to drink another drop of champagne,” she chuckled, “but an occasion this important should be celebrated properly.” She offered them two sparkling glasses, and waved a hand toward Shawn. “Grandpa offered to make the toast, so it should take a while.” The other guests crowded around to help themselves.

John nodded to Marlena and cleared his throat. “Wait, Carrie, there’s something-”

“I’m not quite *that* long-winded,” Shawn harrumphed with an admonishing headshake to Carrie. “I am perfectly willin’ to make a fine, *brief*-” he turned to smile at John and Marlena “-but heartfelt toast.” He strode over to the bar and turned to face the assembled guests like a King addressing his court. He held up his glass, and the guests imitated his gesture. “To our son, John, and our daughter, Marlena. May they always have the happiness they so greatly deserve! May they always feel the love they feel today!” Cries of ‘hear hear’ interrupted him, and he glared genially at the assemblage to quiet them. “I ain’t finished yet,” he declared, freezing Austin in his tracks mid- sip. “As I was sayin’…May your life be filled with joy, and laughter and love for all the years you are together, and beyond. To John and Marlena!”

“To John and Marlena!” roared the crowd in response, tipping their flutes in a toast before bringing them to their lips. The loud cry drowned out the sound of the door opening.

But they all heard the sound of breaking glass, as Shawn’s champagne flute slipped from suddenly nerveless fingers. His face paled to the color of his silver-gray hair, and he staggered back against the bar. “My God…”

Marlena closed her eyes and leaned into John’s side, painfully certain of the sight that had caused Shawn’s shocked reaction. The crowd turned as one to see what had startled him so badly. Jaws dropped all over the room – except for those at Kristen’s table. Vivian and Ivan stared at her incredulously as her lips curved in a malicious smile. No one else noticed her expression. Their gazes were locked on the front door.

Roman stood in the doorway, Sami and Will next to him. His hungry gaze took in the beloved faces of the people he’d missed so much for so long, finally coming to rest on his father’s shocked countenance. He cleared his throat and blinked back sudden tears. “Hi, Pop.” Chapter 54

A low, keening cry burst from Caroline’s throat. “Roman!” She flew across the room toward her son and pulled him into a fierce embrace.

“Hi, Mom,” he said hoarsely, wrapping his arms around her slight, trembling frame.

Shawn slumped against the bar, clutching the rail as if to keep from drowning. “It’s no’ possible,” he whispered.

Marlena hurried to his side. “I’m sorry, Shawn. We wanted to break it to you gently, but it *is* Roman, there’s no question about it. The ISA lied to us – *all* of us. Roman had no idea that they had told us he was dead. He only found out when he came home to Salem last night.” Gasps of outrage from around the room met her words.

Roman moved from the doorway, Caroline still glued to his side. Bo stared warily at him, his arms crossed over his chest in a defensive gesture so familiar it almost made Roman laugh. “It’s me, little brother,” he murmured. Bo glanced at John, as if asking for confirmation. John nodded slightly, and Bo turned back to Roman, who tried desperately not to resent his brother’s obvious doubt in him and instinctive trust in John. The wariness in Bo’s expression faded, to be replaced by tentative welcome.

“Hey,” Bo said.

It was as if Bo’s acceptance was a catalyst for the rest of the crowd, and Roman suddenly found himself the recipient of a score of heartfelt hugs.

“Welcome home, Daddy,” Carrie whispered in a muffled, tear- filled voice as she embraced him.

He cleared his throat and set her back down on her feet. “Thanks, Punkin. You’re looking as beautiful as ever.” Behind him Sami stiffened and looked away, only to find John watching her. She offered him a wan smile, and he winked at her. She stifled a sudden, inexplicable urge to laugh.

The color had finally begun to seep back into Shawn’s cheeks. He pushed away from the bar and walked on unsteady legs toward his son. “Roman,” he said, and his voice only trembled a little bit.

They regarded each other uncomfortably for a moment, before simultaneously moving into a rough, awkward embrace. “I missed you, Pop,” Roman managed in a choked voice, burying his face in the rough cotton of his father’s shirt.

“I missed you, too, boy,” Shawn replied, thumping Roman on the back. “We all did.” Over Shawn’s shoulder, Roman’s eyes met Marlena’s questioningly. She blinked and looked away, the smile fading from her face.

Kristen watched their byplay with interest. Is the return of all these husbands freaking you out, Marlena? Aw, poor baby. She turned to see Don watching them also, a concerned frown furrowing his brow. Three pairs of eyes followed Marlena as she made her way to John where he stood next to a pillar, watching the family celebration. John smiled down at her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, hauling her up against his side. She smiled and slipped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek against his chest.

Don pursed his lips consideringly and turned to look at Roman as Shawn released him from their embrace. “Welcome back, Roman.”

“Don!” Roman exclaimed in surprise. “I didn’t know you were back in town!”

Don leaned forward to shake his hand. “Temporarily, I’m afraid. But I’m glad I was here for your miraculous resurrection. It’s nice to see you, Roman.”

“It’s nice to finally be seen,” Roman replied ruefully, returning the handshake. Silence descended upon the room as the assembled people glanced uncomfortably at one another. “Well,” Roman finally said, “Not that it isn’t wonderful to see all of you and get this awkwardness over with all at once, but since you didn’t know I was coming, you couldn’t have thrown me a party.” He turned and gestured at the ‘Congratulations!’ banner hanging on the bar. “So what’s the occasion?”

The silence deepened into something oppressive. Roman’s face showed his confusion. “What?”

Belle climbed up onto an empty chair and sat Big Bunny on the table. Brady clutched the back of the chair with one hand and swung around to gaze up at his new friend. “Momma and Daddy are gettin’ married,” he confided. “Daddy asked Momma and she said ‘Yes!'”

Roman felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach. “Really?” he asked weakly.

“Uh-huh,” Brady continued blithely. “And we’re gonna move into a new house an’ Belle and me are gonna have our own rooms and Sami has a balc’ny. It has a pool, too,” he added happily.

Roman inhaled deeply and forced himself to look over at John and Marlena, who stood frozen in their tracks, staring down at their small son with expressions of mingled pride and horror. “Is that true?” he managed to ask.

Marlena’s left hand tightened on John’s arm, and the emerald on her ring finger gleamed in the fluorescent light. Why didn’t I see it before? Roman asked himself as he averted his anguished gaze. Or did I just not want to? I knew they were moving to a new house. Why didn’t I assume they’d do it as man and wife? He met Marlena’s guarded gaze, and the embarrassed compassion he saw there twisted the knife still further into his heart. “Yes,” she replied gently. “John asked me to marry him two nights ago. And I told him I would.”

Roman cleared his throat and gazed around the room at a sea of stricken faces. “And this breakfast was a surprise celebration, wasn’t it?” he asked, though the question was rhetorical. The sick expression Carrie wore was answer enough.

She reached out to touch his arm. “Dad…” Her voice trailed off and she sighed tiredly. “We wanted to surprise them, so Grandma told them to come by for pancakes before Grandpa took the kids fishing. They didn’t know everyone would be here.”

Roman nodded, closed his eyes, and exhaled. “I see.” He opened his eyes and looked down at Carrie. “This was very thoughtful of you, sweetheart. I’m sure they appreciate it.”

All eyes turned to John and Marlena, who smiled wanly. “Of course,

we appreciate it, honey,” she offered. “It was wonderful of *all* of you to come here this morning, especially since getting out of bed had to be the last thing most of you wanted to do.”

Relieved laughter filled the room. “You got *that* right,” Bo stated feelingly.

“Well, now,” Shawn harrumphed, “There’s no reason to end the party. Now we’ve got two wonderful things to celebrate, ain’t that right?”

Roman winced as he realized his father was cutting off any chance of an early escape. “Pop-”

“I’m not takin’ ‘no’ for an answer, son, so you might as well give in.” He turned to pick up two more glasses of champagne and handed one to Roman. The rest of the guests retrieved their own abandoned glasses. “To Roman,” Shawn offered happily, tipping his glass. “Our son, brother, friend…” he glanced at Marlena and swallowed uncertainly, “and, er…father. We’re thrilled to have you back with us.”

Roman clinked his champagne flute against his father’s and blinked back sudden tears amid the crowd’s cheers. As he drank, his gaze landed on Marlena, who had tapped her glass against John’s, taken a quick sip, and was now speaking to him in a low voice, her gaze locked on his face. John regarded her intently, a concerned frown marring his brow. Roman wondered what they were saying.

“I don’t think Reilly would mind if you canceled, Doc,” John murmured. “A husband coming back from the dead is surely sufficient reason to miss one little meeting.”

“*Ex*-husband,” Marlena pointed out sharply. “There’s no reason to cancel my meeting, John. Roman will be fine here with the family. He would never expect us to drop everything to babysit him.”

“But, don’t you want to…” John’s voice trailed off and he shook his head. “Oh, I don’t know. Let’s just get some breakfast for the kids, okay? They must be starving by now.” He glanced over at Shawn. “Do

you think he’ll still want to take them fishing? If not, we need to call Chelsea and see if she can come pick them up a little early.”

“Let’s ask him,” Marlena said, glancing down at her watch. “We have to get going soon. I just remembered I have some patient charts I need to review.”

“Doc-”

She cut him off. “Let’s just talk to Shawn, okay?”

Shawn turned at the sound of his name. “What?”

“We need to be leaving, Shawn,” Marlena informed him. “Do you still want to take the kids fishing, or shall we reschedule for another day?” The latter suggestion occasioned a small storm of protest from Brady and Belle.

“No, no, no,” Shawn replied, smiling fondly down at them. “I promised the little munchkins fishin’, and fishin’s what they’ll get. But,” he added, with a significant glance toward Roman, who was pretending to be oblivious to their conversation, “don’t you want to stay a little longer, have some breakfast?”

“We can’t, I’m sorry,” she quickly replied, snatching up her purse. She knelt down to give Brady and Belle a hug goodbye. “You be good for Grandpa, you hear? And I hope you catch a great big fish. Have fun!”

They each kissed her goodbye and then ran after Caroline, who was carrying two plates of pancakes toward the bar. Marlena straightened and hugged Shawn briefly. “Thanks, Shawn. Chelsea will be by to pick them up after lunch. If you need us, I’ll be at the office, and John will be at Titan.” She took John’s arm and pulled him toward the door.

“I have some business with the hospital board, first, though, so just call me on my celphone. You have the number.” John added, frowning slightly at Marlena. He could practically feel the tension emanating from her slim shoulders. What’s going on with her? he wondered as

they hurried across the floor. Suddenly, she stopped and turned back to face the guests, an uncertain expression on her face. “Roman,” she blurted out, her voice echoing loudly in the sudden, suffocating silence.

He swallowed uncomfortably. “Yes?”

She glanced up at John and then looked back at Roman, biting her lower lip irresolutely. “We’ll…ah, we’ll see you later. I hope you…um, have a nice day.”

He nodded shortly and watched as they vanished out the door, John’s arm around Marlena’s shoulders. “This is hard for her, son,” Shawn murmured from behind him.

Roman shot him a wry glance. “Now why would that be, Pop? People come back from the dead every day.” He collapsed into a chair and reached for Belle’s bunny, fingering it thoughtfully. “So you’re taking the children out to the river, huh? Isn’t it a little late in the day to go fishing?”

Shawn laughed as he sat down across from his son. “Now don’t you be startin’ with me, too. I promised to take Belle and Brady fishing today a long time ago-” he snapped his fingers “- which reminds me, you should come with us. It’s been too long since you and I fished together. Anyway, we usually get a much earlier start, but we had to make it later so everyone could come-” he coughed “-er, to the party.”

“It’s okay, Pop,” Roman replied tiredly. “Really. I knew she always loved him, and their engagement isn’t really a surprise. The announcement just…caught me off-guard a little, I guess. But I’m fine.”

“Now, how could that be when you still love her so much?” Shawn observed quietly. “In your heart she’s still your wife, isn’t she?”

Roman concentrated on the absurdly large pink ears of the stuffed rabbit. “That’s over, Pop. I divorced her and I left her and she had to

get on with her life. I don’t have any rights where Marlena is concerned – she is *not* my wife anymore.”

“Bah!” Shawn muttered dismissively. “A piece of paper can’t end a marriage. You pledged yourselves to one another in front of God and man – ’til death do you part.”

Roman squeezed his eyes shut. “*No*, Pop. I can’t think like that. She loves *John*. She made those same vows to *John*!”

“And she was thinkin’ he was you at the time, wasn’t she?” Shawn pointed out.

“Don’t!” Roman snapped. “I don’t want to think about that right now, okay? It doesn’t matter a whole hell of a lot, anyway. She sure as hell knew who he was when she made love to him on our anniversary, didn’t she? She knew who he was when she had *sex* on a conference table at Titan in front of poor Sami.” He threw the stuffed bunny down into the empty chair next to him with a muttered curse. “I don’t want to *talk* about this anymore – is that *okay* with you, Pop?”

“Roman,” Shawn murmured warningly, reaching across the table to stay his hand. “Calm down, stop yellin’.”

“I am *not* yelling,” he bit out between gritted teeth. The sideways movement of the chair adjacent to his wrung another muffled curse from him. He turned his head to find Belle staring up at him with wide, indignant eyes, her beloved bunny clutched tightly to her chest. “You’re not s’posed to hurt Big Bunny,” she said crossly. “He’s mine.”

Roman’s heart sank as the first words his much-loved former daughter ever said to him became words of anger. He swallowed with difficulty past the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean to hurt your bunny.”

Belle regarded him suspiciously as Brady approached the table and bumped into her, absorbed in the task of licking syrup from his fingers.

“Daddy gave him to her when she was born,” he confided, sticking his tongue out at his little sister. “She’s real weird about him.”

“Am not,” Belle retorted, scowling at him.

“Children,” Shawn interrupted. “Stop arguin’. Are you done eating? We need to hurry or all the fish will be havin’ their afternoon naps.”

“I’m done,” Brady announced, holding up his sticky hands. “Uncle Bo said him and Shawn-D can’t go ’cause Shawn-D has to go to school. He has to go all day, not half like me.” He looked up at Roman owlishly. “Are you comin’ with us?”

Roman watched sadly as Belle’s face darkened and her grip on the bunny tightened. He cleared his throat. “Not today, Brady, but thanks for inviting me. I know how special a day of fishing with your Grandpa is.”

Shawn glanced at Roman sympathetically as he gathered up his grandchildren. “You’re welcome to stay here with your mom an’ me for as long as needs be. You know that, don’t you?”

Roman nodded and managed a smile for his father as the threesome moved back toward the rear exit, to the stairway that led up to the house and the closet containing the fishing gear.

“If you don’t want to stay here, you’re welcome to stay with me,” Carrie offered, dropping into the chair next to his and smiling brightly. Austin slid into a chair on the opposite side of the table. “Billie’s in Italy for God knows how long, and I spend most of my time at work or over at Austin’s apartment, anyway. You’d have lots of privacy.”

Roman glared at Austin before turning his gaze to his oldest daughter. “I don’t think so, Carrie, but thanks for the offer.”

Carrie glanced from Roman to Austin, her brow furrowing quizzically. “Okay…um, so are you going to stay here, then?”

“Why would he do that?” Sami asked, striding up to the table with Will in her arms and a frown on her face. “He already has a house.”

Carrie blinked. “Well…yes, but…won’t that be kind of awkward?”

“It’s *his* house, Carrie,” Sami reminded her nastily.

Roman’s interruption prevented Carrie’s angry retort. “It’s all right, Sami, I understand what your sister is asking.” He smiled at Carrie and Sami rolled her eyes, hitching Will up higher on her hip. The little boy gave up his intent perusal of her necklace and twisted around to reach for Austin, who took his son and settled him on his lap. Roman saw the movement out of the corner of his eye and frowned. “John, Marlena and I will work everything out about the house. Since they’ll be moving soon, anyway, I don’t foresee much of a problem.”

Carrie nodded as she stood up from her chair. “All right, if you’re sure. I’m sorry to run out on you so soon, but I have a story meeting for Bella’s new issue today, and I have to get to the office.” She leaned down to give her father a kiss on the cheek. “I really want to see you tonight, though, if that’s okay.”

“Of course it’s okay. Why don’t you just come over to the house after work?”

Carrie glanced at Austin, who nodded. “Okay, we should be over about six, then.”

“We?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Austin and I. You don’t expect me to desert my fiance and leave him all by his lonesome for an entire *evening*, do you?” Her sarcasm was quite clearly aimed at Sami, who stiffened, indignant.

“I thought Austin was going to be spending some quality time with his son,” Roman interjected ironically.

“He’s supposed to be,” Sami muttered as she contemplated her oblivious little boy, who was absorbed in studying the knot of Austin’s tie. “I don’t want Will spending the entire night with Kate, Austin. God knows what garbage she’d try to fill his head with about me.”

Austin glared at her. “Mom wouldn’t do that, Sami, no matter how much you deserve it.” He glanced over at Carrie. “But I really do want to spend tonight with Will – a father/son kind of thing. And I’m sure your father would like some time alone with you. We can do the whole family thing another time.”

Carrie shrugged and nodded her agreement. “Fine,” she said as Austin handed Will to Sami. “You ready to go?”

He nodded as he got up from his chair. “Be sure and call me after Will’s checkup, Sami. I want to know how everything goes.”

“Sure,” she agreed apathetically, smoothing Will’s hair. “I’ll call you after I get back from class tonight.”

Carrie and Austin turned to leave, Roman’s angry gaze following them out the door. “I’ll never understand what she sees in that boy,” he muttered when they were out of earshot.

“Austin’s a nice guy, Daddy,” Sami said, though her voice lacked conviction. She sat down in the chair that he had vacated and arranged Will on her lap.

Roman regarded her incredulously. “How can you say that after the way he treated you, Sami?”

She studied him for a moment. “You know, most people don’t look at it that way, Daddy. Most people blame me.”

“*Most* people get taken in by Austin’s act,” he muttered, staring down at his clenched fists. “But I’ve known that he was trouble since the first

day I met him. Carrie just wouldn’t listen to me.” He looked over at Sami. “And now he’s pulled you into this mess, too. I’m sorry, Sami. I should have been here to stop it.”

She bit her lower lip and looked down at Will. He reached up to gently press her nose with one small index finger, and she grinned, ruffling his hair affectionately. “Will and I have to go over to the hospital for his check-up, don’t we, Will?” She glanced up at Roman. “Do you want to come with us? It’s in an hour.”

Marlena’s at the hospital… was his immediate thought. He was still puzzled by that last, brief statement she had made and the peculiar expression on her face. ‘Have a nice day’? Something is definitely off with her. “Sure, I’ll come,” he agreed, nodding at Sami.

A happy smile bloomed on her face. “Great! It’ll give you a chance to get to know your grandson.”

Roman lowered his eyes. “Yeah…”

“Hello, Roman,” a quiet voice said from behind him. Sami looked over his shoulder, her smile falling away. “Kristen,” she murmured, her tone scornful.

Roman twisted in his chair to find himself face to face with a protruding belly. His gaze traveled upward to meet the eyes of Kristen DiMera. She smiled down at him and gestured toward the empty chair. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Oh, of course,” he said, reaching over to pull the chair out for her.

“That’s *our* cue to leave,” Sami muttered to her son as she stood up from the table and swung Will into her arms. “I’ll come tell you when it’s time to go to the hospital,” she told Roman before stomping off.

Roman turned to regard Kristen, raising an inquiring brow. She shrugged diffidently. “I think, to Sami, I’ll always be my father’s

daughter,” she offered casually.

Roman’s breath caught. “Oh, right…Your father-”

“-is dead,” she finished. “At least that’s where most everyone’s bets lay at the moment. The consensus seems to be that Marlena killed him when she escaped from her cage. There haven’t been any signs since then that he’s still alive.”

Roman laughed humorlessly. “Knowing Stefano the way I do, *I* wouldn’t bet that he was dead!”

“Yeah, well…” Kristen rubbed her bulging belly thoughtfully. “*I* hope he’s dead. You know how obsessed he is about members of his family, and I don’t ever want him to come anywhere near my baby.”

He swallowed and tried to arrange his expression into one of polite interest. “Your baby. Yes, I noticed that,” he observed, his tone dripping irony. Kristen laughed. “Looks like you don’t have long to wait. You and Tony must be very excited.”

The laughter left her face and she adopted a sorrowful look. “Tony died, Roman. Almost two years ago.”

“I’m so sorry,” he automatically replied, reaching for her hand. Then a thought struck him. “But, then-”

“Tony’s not the father,” she informed him, anticipating his question. “I didn’t get pregnant until a long time after he was gone.”

Roman’s fingers found the diamond ring she wore. “Well, then,” he exclaimed with false heartiness, “Your new husband must be very excited about the birth of your child.”

She bit her lip and looked away. “I’m…um, I’m not married, Roman. Actually…to be honest, the baby’s father left me.”

Roman glanced down at the ring, puzzled. “Did he know you were pregnant?”

Yes! Kristen exulted silently. This is going *exactly* as I planned. She took a deep breath. “He knew. But…well, he said he couldn’t be with me because he wanted to be with his ex-wife. He said he never stopped loving her, and once she told him she still loved him…well, that was all she wrote, so to speak.”

Something in her tone tipped him off. “Who-” Then comprehension dawned. “John?” His voice rose angrily. “Your baby’s father is John Black?”

Kristen nodded. “We were actually getting married the day Marlena escaped from Father. She showed up at St. Luke’s, covered in blood, and she fainted in the aisle as John and I stood at the altar. So we called off the ceremony and rushed her to the hospital. And, then, after she woke up…” She took another deep breath. “I guess they told you about her amnesia, huh?”

Roman nodded wordlessly.

“Yes, well, the doctors convinced John not to tell her the truth. They wanted her to remember on her own, even though they couldn’t be sure when…or *if* that would ever happen. So everyone moved back into the house and commenced their great game of ‘Pretend’…” Kristen’s fists clenched, her fingernails biting into her palms as she tried to control her temper. You’re so close, Kristen. Don’t blow it now! She closed her eyes and exhaled. “Anyway, by the time she found out everything on her own, I guess it wasn’t ‘Pretend’ anymore. And John broke up with me.”

Roman’s hands gripped the arms of his chair so hard his knuckles were white. “You seem very calm about it,” he observed tonelessly.

Kristen shot him a wry glance. “Then I’ve perfected my civilized mask,

I guess. I’m *not* calm. I’m terrified of the idea of bringing up our baby by myself. I’m terrified that I’ll never have the man I love again. And, believe it or not, I’m terrified of how John’s going to feel when Marlena remembers that she *didn’t* love him these past few years, and then tells him she can’t be with him. I don’t know if he can handle that happening for a third time. No matter how much he has hurt me, I could never want him to feel that kind of pain.” She studied Roman out of the corner of her eye, trying to gauge the effect of her words. He was pale underneath his Middle Eastern tan.

Kristen twisted the ring on her finger. “I guess that’s why he proposed to her so soon after the ISA reported you dead. He just wants to marry her before her memory comes back, because he must know that she’d never betray another husband after what happened with you. Once they’re married, she’ll stay with him. And that’s all he wants.” She closed her eyes, pained. “I guess you think I’m pretty pathetic, huh? To still want a guy who would work that hard to get another woman…” She patted her stomach again, and Roman took the subconscious cue.

“You’re worried about your baby,” he murmured.

“Yes, I am,” she admitted. “And it’s not as if John’s attachment to Marlena comes as any big shock to me. I’ve always understood the place she holds in his heart, and I’ve always accepted it.” She regarded Roman surreptitiously from under lowered lashes. “Because I’ve also always understood *his* place in *her* heart. Look at the facts, Roman. You’ve been gone for *years*, but John and Marlena never got together – because *Marlena* didn’t want it, and John felt too guilty to try to change her mind. So he moved on with me, and he loved me – he really did, even if it was a different kind of love than what he felt for her.” She took a deep breath. “But then the accident happened, and it must have seemed to him like some sort of wonderful gift from God. When Marlena woke up, she thought she was *married* to him. And even though she now knows that isn’t true, emotionally she’s still stuck in 1986. And John wants to go back there with her.”

“And you want to prevent that from happening,” Roman concluded astutely. “Is that why you’re here? To try and figure out a way to stop it? Because I don’t figure you for coming out to an engagement party for them, considering how you feel.”

“I came here for breakfast,” she confessed ruefully. “But, I’ll admit, I *do* want to prevent them from getting married. Look, sooner or later, Marlena’s going to remember everything about the past ten years, and if they’re married before that happens, everything’s going to be in an even bigger mess than it already is.” She regarded him silently for a moment, before bracing her arms against the table and struggling up from her chair. “Think about it, Roman,” she offered over her shoulder as a parting shot.

After she left, Roman stared down at the red and white checked tablecloth, his mind racing. He had no doubt that Kristen was pursuing her own selfish – if completely understandable – agenda by talking to him, but that didn’t necessarily mean she was wrong about what was going on, did it? Is John taking advantage of Marlena’s amnesia? Maybe she *wasn’t* still in love with John when I left. If Kristen’s right about them not reuniting until after the shooting, why *weren’t* they together for all those years? And how can I find out the truth? He looked up to see Sami and Will returning to the table. His daughter’s gaze was locked on the front door, through which Kristen had just departed. “What did *she* want?” Sami asked querulously.

“She just wanted to welcome me back, Peanut,” Roman replied. Sami

looked dubious. “So, is it time to leave for the hospital?” he asked,
hoping to distract her. Sami wrenched her gaze from the door and
looked down at Will, nodding slowly. “Then let’s get this show on the
road.”
***

Marlena unlocked the door to her office and led John inside. “What time is your meeting with Mickey?” she asked, dropping her briefcase on the desk and turning to face him.

“It’s in a few minutes – he just has something he needs me to look over and sign for the Horton Center. It shouldn’t take long. Would you like to have lunch together later?”

Marlena studied him silently for a moment. “Is that an invitation to lunch?” she asked finally. “Or is it an invitation to analysis? Come on, John, never try to shrink a shrink. Haven’t you learned that by now?” He grimaced and collapsed on the couch with a mea culpa shrug of the shoulders. “Sorry…I’m just worried about you, Doc. Roman just came back from the *dead*, for God’s sake. You wouldn’t be human if it didn’t freak you out just a little.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Are you talking about *you* or *me*? Honestly, John, I’m completely fine with *all* of this. I just have *work* to do.”

John’s lips twitched in a smile as he spread out on the couch and flung his arms wide. “You throwin’ me out, lady?” he asked in a tough-guy accent.

Marlena laughed as she pulled some files from her briefcase and dropped them on the desk. “Yes, I am.” She skirted the couch and leaned over to give him a brief kiss. “But it’s nothing personal.”

He growled and pulled her down on top of him, eliciting a startled giggle. “Let’s make it personal,” he whispered, capturing her lips in a decidedly more carnal kiss.

She slipped her arms around his waist and grinned mischievously. “I suppose I might have a *few* free minutes. What exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Black?” They laughed, but not for long, as their attention turned to other, more interesting pursuits. Chapter 55

Marlena finally pushed away from John and attempted to straighten her disarrayed clothing. “John, as enjoyable as this has been – and, boy, *has* it been-” she paused to wink saucily at him “-I really do

have to get to work. And Mickey is expecting you, isn’t he?”

“Mickey, Shmickey,” John replied as he tried to tug her back into his arms. “He’s pretty good-looking, I suppose, if you go for former redheads with mustaches. But I like blondes. One beautiful blonde in particular.”

Marlena slipped agilely from his grasp and rose up from the couch. “Really? Do I know her?” she asked airily as she smoothed the wrinkles from her skirt.

“Yup,” he affirmed, patting the cushion next to him. “And if you come back over here, I’ll give you a friendly reminder.”

“Friendly?” she laughed. “Oh, I’ll bet you say that to all the girls. But if you’re a good boy and leave right now, I might just let you give me that reminder tonight.” She leered playfully at the broad expanse of muscled chest revealed by his gaping shirt.

John shot up from the couch with alacrity, planted a quick, searing kiss on her lips, and crossed the room to the door in a flash. “It’s a date,” he confirmed as he fumbled with his shirt buttons. “See you later, Doc.”

“Later,” Marlena replied softly as the door closed behind him. She sat down at her desk, managing a small smile for the framed picture of John and the children resting next to the pencilholder. She leaned forward on her elbows and rubbed her temples wearily. Ooh, what a headache… The ring circling her left ringfinger caught her eye, and she studied it silently for a moment, remembering the evening John when had proposed to her. Slowly her fist clenched. I will marry you, she vowed defiantly. Nothing can stop us from being together. Nothing!

She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, then shook her head and got

to work.
***

“Um, could you give me a hand, Daddy?” Sami asked as she fumbled with her purse, her bookbag, and her squirming son.

Roman glanced down from his perusal of the changing floor- indicator buttons lining the top of the elevator. “Sure, Peanut,” he said, reaching for the dangling bookbag in lieu of Will. “Lot of paraphernalia you’ve got here.”

She grimaced. “Yeah. I forgot how much of a pain it is to carry books everywhere. And all of Will’s supplies in addition to that…” She sighed. “All I can say is, thank God Mom lent me her car. Doing all this on public transportation would be a nightmare.”

He averted his gaze guiltily. “I’m sorry, Sami. I know your Mom and I promised a car for you and Eric to share after you got your licenses. For your seventeenth birthday, wasn’t it?”

She shook her head. “It’s okay, Daddy. I mean, you and Eric weren’t even in Salem when we turned seventeen. Grandma let it slip that Mom was going to get me a car anyway, but she didn’t want me to think it was a bribe to make me forgive her. She got me a necklace like the one Grandma Evans gave her when she was a girl instead. It’s really beautiful.”

“Well, I’m glad you liked it, but that doesn’t change the fact that you really need a car now that you…er, have so many responsibilities.”

Sami nodded as the elevator doors opened. “I know. We’ve been talking about getting one for me since we decided on the new house. For some reason, the city’s public transit doesn’t stop anywhere near Lakeshore Estates.” She chuckled ironically. “I guess the rich don’t take the bus much. Anyway, John said we should start looking in the newspaper.”

Roman’s eyebrow rose. “The newspaper?”

“Mmm-hmm,” Sami replied, glancing at her watch. “For used cars. I was thinking maybe I’d like a Geo Prizm or something similar…or maybe something bigger, for when I have to haul Will *and* a carload of his friends.”

“John wants to buy you a *used* car?” Roman asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Sami glanced up at him, her gaze narrowing quizzically. “Yes. Why not?”

“No reason,” he replied diffidently, eyeing the nurses station. “So tell me…is your mother’s office still in the same place?”

She compressed her lips and settled Will more firmly on her hip. “Yes, it is. Why? Do you need to talk to her?”

“Mmm. Did her behavior this morning seem a little bit strange to you?”

Sami shook her head slowly. “No, not really. But then, I’m not sure *how* you’re supposed to act when your former husband comes back from the dead. However, if anyone should have it down to a science, it’s Mom.”

The slight edge in her tone made him glance at her sharply, but her expression was blandly neutral. “She just seemed a bit…*distant* to me, that’s all,” he offered finally. “I was worried that I had upset her somehow. The last thing I wanted was to make her uncomfortable.”

“I’m sure she knows that,” Sami replied after a moment’s consideration. “But if you want to go talk to her…”

“Thanks, Sami,” he said quickly, leaning down to give her a swift kiss on the cheek. “I’ll see you later tonight. I hope Will has a good checkup.”

“Thanks. Bye…” she said, her voice trailing off as he strode quickly

down the hall. She looked down at Will. “I guess we’re on our own,

kiddo. Let’s go see Dr. Lehrer.”
***

“Hello, Hillary,” Roman greeted Marlena’s secretary, who was seated behind her desk in the anteroom, staring up at him in round-eyed shock. “Is Marlena in?”

The redheaded young woman nodded slowly. “Yes, she is, but…Um, does she know…does she know you’re here?”

“Not *here* specifically,” he replied politely. “But she knows I’m among the living, if that’s what you’re asking. I need to talk to her for a minute, if she’s free.”

Hillary swallowed with difficulty. “Uh, let me ask.” She pushed the buzzer on the intercom.

Marlena’s voice issued forth, slightly muffled by the not- quite-state-of-the-art electronics. “Yes?”

“Captain Brady is here to see you, Dr. Evans.”

A momentary pause followed an audible cough. Finally Marlena answered, “Send him in, Hillary. Thank you.”

“No problem.” The secretary looked up at Roman. “You can go on in. It was…nice to see you, Captain Brady.”

“Likewise,” he replied over his shoulder. He opened the door to find Marlena seated behind her desk, her back ramrod straight, an unreadable expression on her face. “Hello, Doc.”

She stiffened perceptibly upon his use of the nickname. “Hello, Roman,” she replied neutrally.

He walked into the room and sat down in the chair in front of the desk,

leaning forward and eyeing her intently. “Marlena…I think we need to

talk. Don’t you?”
***

Damn, damn, damn, Sami cursed internally, mindful of the little ears that would hear and record for later, embarrassing use any profane litany actually uttered aloud. She struggled to tug the shifting bookbag over her shoulder, jostling Will in the process. “Here, honey, let me put you down for a minute and get this door open.”

“Need a hand?” a cheerful voice asked, before its owner plucked Will from his precarious position on her hip and swung him into the air.

“John!” Sami replied gratefully as she wrested the wayward bag under control. “Thanks. I need about three more arms to carry this much stuff around.” She opened the door to Dr. Lehrer’s office and nodded at the receptionist seated behind the small window. “Will Reed here to see Dr. Lehrer.”

The receptionist smiled, nodded, and waved a hand toward the waiting room. “The doctor will be with you in a moment.”

Sami hefted her many belongings into an empty chair and reached for Will, but John was dangling him over his head, out of her reach. The little boy chortled happily. “That’s odd,” John remarked as he swooped him back and forth. “Brady and Belle are *never* this happy about going to the doctor.”

Sami grimaced and sat down in the chair. “Well, I’m not quite sure he understands what’s going on – I think the only thing that registered was me telling him he’d get a lollipop in the end. But he has to get some shots today, so I don’t imagine the happy mood will last very long.”

“Shots?” John frowned and sat down next to her, Will comfortably ensconced on his lap. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?”

She shook her head as she contemplated her small son’s smiling face.

“Just routine. Vaccinations, blood tests, that sort of thing.”

He regarded her silently for a moment. “It’s never routine when it’s *your* child,” he murmured finally. “Tell you what…I just finished meeting with Mickey and I have a few minutes before I have to head to work. Why don’t I hang out here and wait with you?”

Sami bit her lip uncertainly. “You don’t mind? I know you’re a really busy mogul-type international businessman.”

“Of course I don’t mind,” he replied immediately, tickling Will’s ribs and sending him squirming into the sanctuary of his mother’s lap. “It’s no problem at all.”

Sami hugged her son for a moment, before raising her eyes to meet John’s compassionate gaze. “Thank you,” she offered sincerely. They regarded each other silently for a moment. Then Sami’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Um, John? Weren’t you wearing a tie this morning?” ***

“You think we need to talk,” Marlena stated flatly, her gaze locked on the file folders atop her desk as she aligned their edges into perfect symmetry millimeter by millimeter. “Talk about what?”

Roman watched her silently for a moment, but she didn’t look up at him. “Oh, I don’t know,” he said finally. “The house? Sami? Our son, the Colorado hermit? Carrie and Austin’s engagement? The fact that you can’t remember the last ten *years* of your life? Take your pick.”

She pushed the chair back from her desk and swiveled around until she was facing the back wall. “We’ll be out of the house very soon, Roman,” she offered in a distant voice. “The renovations on the new place are just taking a little longer than we thought they would. If it bothers you to have us there, we could go stay in the loft temporarily. John hasn’t leased it out yet.”

“I’m not trying to kick you out of the house,” Roman interrupted, a bit

annoyed at what he felt was a deliberate attempt at missing the point. “After all, the house is half yours, and I left its disposition up to you. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t sell it.”

She studied the hands clasped tightly in her lap from underneath lowered lashes. “So am I,” she murmured absently.

“Well, maybe you had a good reason not to,” he suggested after a long, tense moment.

She closed her eyes and shook her head slightly. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I did any of the things I did after I escaped from Stefano in 1991. But it doesn’t matter now. The house is yours, Roman. You’re welcome to do whatever you want with it.”

Roman balled his fists in frustration at his inability to break through her wall of detachment. He decided to take a new tack. “Do you remember when we bought that house?” he asked, his voice warming with the memory. “You just fell in love with it, sight unseen, when you found out it was located next to Tom and Alice’s. And after you saw it…wild horses couldn’t have kept you away. We almost bit our nails to the quick waiting to hear if our mortgage would come through.”

A slight smile tugged at her lips, before her expression blanked again. “I remember,” she replied in a clipped tone. “But it was all so long ago, Roman.”

“Not that long ago,” he countered. “I remember it like it was yesterday.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “But it *wasn’t* yesterday, was it?” she retorted bitterly. “It was *years* ago, and everything’s different now. *Everything*!”

“The way *I* feel about…that house…hasn’t changed at all,” he returned softly.

Marlena shot up from the chair, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, and she turned to stare out the window. “It’s time to move on, Roman,” she murmured, and he could hear the strain in her voice. Her back muscles were rigid with tension.

“Is it really that easy?” he finally asked quietly. “Just declare it’s time to move on and then do so? No questions, no regrets? I can’t believe it’s that simple, Doc. And I can’t believe that *you* think it is, either.”

The silence that fell then was so complete that Roman could hear the ticking of the electronic clock on the wall. “We are *divorced*,” Marlena finally muttered in a strangled voice. “That’s what you *wanted*, Roman. Why are you doing this?”

Roman inhaled deeply, pleased that she was finally reacting to him, even if the reactions themselves weren’t quite what he’d had in mind. “You don’t remember the divorce, Marlena,” he pointed out gently.

She whirled around, eyes blazing. “Don’t you think I *know* that? It doesn’t make any difference! If I’ve learned anything at all in the past few months, it’s that just because I don’t remember something, that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen! I don’t remember coming back to Salem and seeing my husband propose to another woman. I don’t remember finding out he wasn’t the man I believed him to be – the man I’d convinced him he was. I don’t remember trying to deny ever having been married to him, until it was no longer possible to suppress those memories and those feelings. And I sure as hell don’t remember committing adultery and traumatizing Sami to the brink of collapse! But just because I don’t remember any of the things that *other* Marlena did, doesn’t mean they didn’t happen, does it, Roman? *Does* it?” Her voice had risen to an almost hysterical pitch as she railed at him, her cheeks reddening with anger.

He rose from the chair and stepped toward her, fascinated by the play of emotions across her face. “I’m not saying that those things didn’t happen,” he objected. “But if you don’t remember the divorce, or any of the things that led to it, I can’t understand why you’re being so

distant with me now. By your lights, the last thing you remember about us is my going off to that island to rescue our family and friends. And we were so happy together then, Doc. So incredibly happy.”

“Were we, Roman?” she shot back, her eyes filling with tears. “Then why wasn’t it enough for you? Why did you have to sacrifice everything to get revenge on Stefano and Andre?” She took a deep, gulping breath. “I *begged* you to let it go, to concentrate on us, and the twins and Carrie. But you wouldn’t listen…because you had a *job* to do, and that always came first with you!”

“That’s not true!” he retorted angrily. “You and the kids always mattered more to me than anything or anyone in the world. You still do.”

She laughed – a bitter, painful sound. “Then where were you the last three years? Where were you when I woke up in that hospital bed living ten years in the past? Where were you when Sami was raped, when she gave birth to Will, when Carrie nearly got married, when I almost *died* because of the evil controlling my life? Where were you when Stefano locked me up in that damn cage and then *shot* me because I didn’t want to be with him? He was *your* precious enemy, your most sacred adversary, and you were nowhere to be found. Because you had a *job* to do for the ISA – a mission to save all mankind!” She whirled away from him and gripped the window sill with shaking fingers.

Roman stared at her tensed back, swallowing with difficulty the righteous indignation that threatened to overwhelm him at her outburst. “That’s not fair, Marlena,” he replied quietly. “The work I do is necessary and important. How can you act like my going after Stefano and Andre was some kind of whim? He crashed a plane with my brother and Carrie’s *mother* on board – not to mention your best friend Eugene. What was I supposed to do? Throw up my hands and write them off?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and bowed her head. “I don’t know,

Roman. I just remember constantly feeling that I came in second to your job, and that our family did, too. It seems like whenever you had a choice to make, you chose the work.” She sighed. “You had the right to make that choice all along, I suppose – I knew what kind of man you were when I met you, and I knew what a relationship with you would entail. And, frankly, after the divorce, I lost all claim to your time. But the children didn’t. They *needed* you, Roman.”

That well-placed jab sparked a surge of guilt, and Roman was moved to strike back. “Did they? Or did John step in and take over my life again? I’ve noticed how they look to him – hell, even Bo did it this morning. He wouldn’t believe I was me until John agreed. How do you think it feels to come in second in the competition for your own identity?”

Marlena set her jaw. “John hasn’t taken your place, Roman. No matter what you believe, he’s never even tried. They love him for himself, all of them, not as some sort of replacement or stand-in for you. He’s been there for all of us time and time again while you were off playing secret agent. Maybe the distance you feel between you and them isn’t *John’s* fault. Maybe it’s *yours*!”

Slowly a realization came upon him. “You blame me, don’t you?” he asked incredulously. “You blame me for everything you went through after I left three years ago.”

“This isn’t about blame,” she snapped. “But since you brought it

up…as it happens, I *don’t* blame you. I don’t blame anyone, because it doesn’t matter to me. Whatever pain I went through is in the past, and I don’t remember it, and I want to keep it that way.”

He inhaled sharply. “You don’t *want* to get your memory back?” he asked disbelievingly.

She shook her head angrily. “That isn’t what I meant, Roman. But even if it were, what’s so wrong with that? According to you and just about everyone else with whom I’ve spoken, my life was hell for

almost the entirety of those ten missing years. Why should I *want* to remember that?”

“Because…because it’s your *life*, Doc,” Roman replied, stunned. “It’s your children’s lives. How can you want to give up even one second of that precious time with them?”

She regarded him mutinously. “I can’t believe *you* of all people are lecturing me about this. Even if I *never* remember those missing years, at least I know that I never voluntarily left my children. If you were so concerned about time together and making lasting memories, why did *you* leave? After being gone eight years because of Stefano, how could you miss another three by your own choice?”

“Don’t change the subject!” he retorted sharply. “I want to hear you admit that you don’t *want* your memory back. That’s the truth, isn’t it? You want to forget everything that ever happened after we escaped from Stefano.” He planted his fists on her desktop and leaned toward her, his wild-eyed face mere inches from her indignant one. “Is it guilt, Doc? Do you feel guilty about throwing our life together away for a little tumble with John on *our* anniversary? Do you feel guilty about having sex with another man on a *conference table* right in front of our daughter? Do you feel guilty about giving birth to his bastard child while you were still married to me? Is that it?”

Shocked outrage flashed across her face as she slapped him soundly. “How dare you say that to me!” she hissed. “Don’t you *ever* call my daughter a bastard again! Do you hear me? Not *ever*!”

He leaned back, his cheek bearing a white handprint, mute testimony to the strength of her blow. “Sounds like I hit a nerve, Marlena,” he taunted recklessly. “What’s the matter? Did you have a hard time facing all the things you did after we came back? Could John not figure out a way to justify your affair? He was full of excuses three years ago. Man, he must be slipping.”

“John never tried to justify a damn thing,” she retorted angrily. “He

even *defended* your unwillingness to recognize that he and I were ever married, that we had a life together, that we *loved* each other more than life itself. ‘Roman was understandably hurt that everyone had believed I was him'” she mimicked nastily. “‘He never really meant to force us to forget our marriage.'” Her lip curled. “But that wasn’t true, was it? John is wrong – you *did* want to force us to forget. The *Great* Roman Brady, unable to accept that I could ever love anyone but him. That’s it, isn’t it?”

Smarting from her observation, which hit uncomfortably close to home, Roman turned his back on her and found himself facing her “Wall of Diplomas”. The small family portrait hanging beneath her degree from Johns Hopkins stoked the flames of his anger – It showed Belle regarding John adoringly from her position on his lap, as John wrapped an arm around Marlena, who held a grinning Brady. “You were my *wife*, Marlena,” he muttered bitterly. “I think I had every right to object to you having sex with another man and giving birth to his baby, don’t you?”

Marlena let out a long sigh and collapsed into her chair. “Fine, yes, you had every right to resent what I’d done, and the fact that I kept it a secret for so long. You had every right to divorce me – is that what you want to hear? Well, consider it said. Can we *please* move on now?”

Roman turned to face her, stuffing his hands deep into his pockets. “I don’t know,” he replied quietly. “Can we? When the fallout from those years is still being felt to this day?”

Marlena closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead tiredly. “What do you mean, ‘fallout’?”

He sat down on the couch and stared at the wall opposite, his expression bleak. “I’m talking about Sami,” he murmured. “She’s barely twenty, undereducated, untrained, and a single mother. Her life is ruined, Marlena. I-” he frowned and reached behind his back into the cushions. “What the-” He pulled out a navy tie flecked with red. “What’s this?”

He looked up to see Marlena’s cheeks flush red with embarrassment.

She skirted the desk and snatched the tie from his fingers. “It’s
John’s,” she muttered darkly, stuffing it into her pocket.

“Oh, really?” he replied sarcastically. Then he frowned. “Wait a minute…he was wearing that particular tie this morning, wasn’t he?”

Her chin jutted out defiantly. “Yes. So?”

“But you-…He-” he sputtered. “My *God*, Marlena!”

“We’re engaged to be married,” she snapped, turning back to her desk. “And it’s none of your business, anyway, is it? I believe we were talking about Sami.”

Roman swallowed back an angry retort and took a deep breath. “Yes. Sami. We need to discuss what we’re going to do about her.” ***

“Thanks for coming with me, John,” Sami said as she smoothed her son’s hair and squeezed him gently against her side. He looked up at her, his tiny mouth distended by a large cherry lollipop, the dried tracks of recent tears still evident on his cheeks.

John hefted her bag over his shoulder and skirted a magazine cart someone had left in the hallway. “It’s no problem, Sami. I know how hard it is to listen to your kids cry, even when the pain comes for their own good.” He laughed a little. “That’s why I usually manage to let Marlena take them to the doctor. She has nerves of steel when it comes to stuff like this – at least compared to me.”

“Yeah, she’s pretty good at controlling her emotions, isn’t she?”

Some slight edge in Sami’s voice made John turn to regard her quizzically. “Sami?”

She shrugged as they came to a halt in front of the elevators. “It’s just something Dad said. He thought she was acting weird this morning – distant, I think he said. I told him that I hadn’t noticed, but maybe she was just covering really well. Maybe his coming back has affected her more than I thought.”

John nodded grimly as the elevator doors opened and they stepped inside. “I think you’re probably right about that. I don’t know – I tried to talk to her about it earlier, but she- …uh, she distracted me.” The tips of his ears turned pink with embarrassment.

“I guess I don’t have to ask how,” Sami commented drily. “Do you need a bodyguard to come along? I don’t have to drop Will off for a little while, if you want to go see her. Dad might still be there – he came with me to the hospital.”

“Really?” John frowned worriedly. “Maybe we should go see how it’s going. If she’s not ready to talk about it, I hope he doesn’t try to force her.” He reached out to push the button for Marlena’s floor. The doors chimed open almost immediately, and they exited the elevator.

“I guess that all depends on exactly why he came back, doesn’t it?” Sami murmured thoughtfully.

John raised his eyebrows as he pushed open the door to Marlena’s outer office. “That’s a very good po-” he began, before a muffled shout from the inner office cut him off. He glanced quizzically at Hillary, who was staring fixedly down at her desktop, a stricken expression on her face.”

“He’s not a momentary distraction or a temporary problem that you can dismiss or solve, Roman!” Marlena’s strident voice emanated clearly through the wooden door. “He’s a *baby*! He’s your *grandson*, a part of our *family*. And Sami would *never* agree to give him up in an attempt to somehow live the last three years of her life over again. She doesn’t regret having him. She *loves* him, Roman.”

John glanced at Sami’s flushed, unhappy face and reached for the doorknob. Roman was so involved in his passionate rebuttal that he didn’t hear the sound of the door opening. “She loves him,” he intoned sarcastically. “So she has to give up any chance at a decent life for herself because of one mistake she made when she was a hurt, desperate *child*? I refuse to accept that, Marlena.”

“It isn’t up to you, is it?” Sami interjected angrily. Roman started and whirled around to regard her, a guilty expression on his face. “He’s *my* son and *my* responsibility. I would never *ever* leave my child. *Never*!” She spat the final word with a look of utter defiance.

Roman reached for her arm, but she shook his fingers away and hugged Will even tighter. “I was going to ask you if you needed a ride back to the Pub,” she continued coldly, “but I wouldn’t want to force our company on you.” She looked up at John, her expression softening for a moment as she took the bookbag from him. “Thanks for coming with me, John.”

He nodded silently. Sami offered Marlena a wan smile and turned to leave.

“Sami-” Roman began again, but she was gone before he got her name out. He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck tiredly. “*That* went well.”

John crossed the room to Marlena’s side and plucked his wayward tie from her pocket. “You okay, Doc?” he murmured quietly.

She schooled her expression into one of bland detachment. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be? Everything is just fine.”

Roman turned to regard her quizzically, but before he could speak, another voice from the doorway interrupted. “Dr. Evans?” Reilly called icily. “Will you be coming to the meeting today, or must we reschedule *again*?”

Roman turned to frown at the insolent man lounging against the doorjamb. “Who the hell are you?” he asked bluntly.

Marlena let out a sigh of exasperation and snatched up the stack of files. “I’m coming, Dr. Reilly. I’m sorry, but some family business came up.” She brushed past Roman without a word and swept out the doorway, stopping only when it became apparent that Reilly wasn’t following.

Reilly tilted an inquiring brow toward Roman, and this time her sigh was resigned. “Roman Brady, Dr. James Reilly, Chief of Staff at University Hospital. Dr. Reilly, this is Captain Roman Brady of the ISA.”

“*Formerly* of the ISA,” Roman amended stiffly, reaching for the doctor’s hand. A perverse, quixotic notion made him add, “I’m Marlena’s ex-husband.”

Reilly frowned and glanced over at Marlena as he shook Roman’s hand. “I thought I met him last night. And I thought he was taller.”

Her lips thinned angrily. “That was ex-husband number one.” She jerked a thumb toward Roman. “He’s number two. Shall we go?”

“Of course.” Reilly offered them an exaggerated bow and turned to leave.

“I’ll see you at home, John,” Marlena called before following the other doctor out of the office, tossing a “Lock up when you leave” to Hillary.

Roman and John were left alone to stare uneasily at one another. John drew his tie around his neck and began to knot it deftly. “So…” he began, pausing to clear his throat, “Do you need a ride somewhere?”

Roman turned to regard him silently for a moment. “I think we need to talk. Right now.”
Chapter 56

John spent a few long moments concentrating on perfecting the knot of his tie. Finally he looked up at Roman, his expression wary. “What do you want to talk about?”

Roman took two steps toward John and looked him straight in the eye, his own expression grim. “I want to talk about Doc, of course. Just what the hell do you think you’re doing with her, John?”

***

“Well, *that* was a waste of time,” Laura muttered under her breath as she and Marlena exited the conference room, files in hand. “The world’s briefest staff meeting.”

Marlena chuckled. “I guess Dr. Reilly has decided to bypass the usual administrator’s routine of asking us for our input and then completely ignoring what we say. He’s apparently decided to forgo asking for our opinions at all. A true dictatorship. At least he’s honest about it.”

Laura snorted. “I guess.” She eyed Marlena curiously. “He was sure looking at you funny when the two of you came in together. What’s going on?”

“Oh…” Marlena rolled her eyes. “He came by the office to get me and ran right into ex-husband number two, whom he confused with ex-husband number one, whom he met last night.” She laughed. “If you followed that…”

“All the way to the door,” Laura murmured, frowning slightly with friendly concern. “I’d intended to speak to you after Roman shocked us all by showing up at your engagement breakfast this morning. I wanted to ask you how you were dealing with all of this, but you left before I got the chance.”

“Hmm. Yes, well, paperwork called. But I’m fine, Laura. Truly.”

Laura laid her hand on Marlena’s arm and waited until the other woman eventually met her gaze. Marlena gave her a sunny, surface smile, but her eyes were clouded with confusion and pain. “Are you?” Laura asked simply, her voice gentle. “Are you really?” ***

John regarded Roman silently for a moment, his jaw clenched in an effort to control an automatic flare of temper. “What is that question supposed to mean – ‘What am I doing with Marlena’? I’m in love with her. I’m going to marry her.” His voice was determinedly calm.

“She has *amnesia*, John,” Roman pointed out in a strained, reasonable tone. “She’s forgotten the last ten years of her life – including whatever feelings she had for you before she was injured. How could you ask her to marry you *now*? How can you take advantage of her situation this way?”

“I am not taking advantage of her,” John bit out through gritted teeth. “She knows everything that happened during the time she’s forgotten. The kids and I told her *all* of it – the good and the bad, and we didn’t sugarcoat any of it, either. And she *does* know how she felt about me before the shooting. Laura Horton told her she had admitted she was in love with me.”

“But you weren’t together, were you?” Roman interjected insistently. “Because you were engaged to Kristen DiMera. Because you were having a child with Kristen DiMera – still are, as a matter of fact. Did you even *notice* she was at the party this morning, watching you celebrate your engagement to another woman?”

Guilt flashed across John’s face. “She was? I didn’t see her. What the hell was she doing there?”

“Ordering breakfast,” Roman replied, a note of sarcasm entering his voice. “And getting her nose rubbed in it. And still, all she seems to care about is how *you* feel.”

“What is *that* supposed to mean?” John muttered.

Roman smiled grimly. “Kristen is worried about how you’ll feel once Marlena remembers why she never chose to be with you before the accident. She believes once Doc *does* remember she’ll probably break it off with you. And Kristen’s worried you won’t be able to handle a third rejection.” His tone turned contemptuous. “Is that why you’re in such a hurry to marry Marlena, John? Because you think that once she’s got that ring on her finger, she won’t leave you, no matter *what* she remembers?”

“I’m in a hurry to marry her because I *love* her, Roman,” John replied, a hint of malicious triumph in his tone. “And she’s in a hurry to marry me for the exact same reason, whether *you* want to believe it or not.”

“I’m not denying that she thinks she loves you,” Roman snapped angrily. “But then, she also thought you were *me* when she woke up after the shooting, didn’t she? I’m just saying that making *any* kind of life-altering decision while she’s missing so much information is a bad idea. Why not just wait until she remembers everything that happened?”

John shook his head, exasperated. “What if she never remembers, Roman? What if her amnesia becomes a permanent fixture in her life, the way mine has. How long would we have to wait before the way she feels *now* would be relevant to you? How long before you would *approve* of our having a relationship? Another ten years?”

Roman’s face flushed with fury at the tone of John’s voice. “As if you ever cared about my approval…as if you ever cared about my feelings at all! But I *did* think you cared about *Marlena’s* feelings. That *was* you wasn’t it? The man who used to go on and on until I wanted to deck him about how Marlena never had a chance to deal with her feelings for you when I came back. How the two of you should have had a chance to resolve things, to get some *closure* or whatever the damn psychobabble word of the week was. Was all that just a

convenient excuse for seducing my wife? Or did you mean what you said?”

“I meant every word,” John spat back.

“Well, put up or shut up,” Roman returned. “The last thing Doc remembers about the two of us is an incredibly happy marriage. She doesn’t remember the affair or the divorce, but you’re willing to take her word for it that she’s fine with all of this? With two husbands on her hands, neither of whom she remembers breaking things off with? Do you have any idea how many times she said the same damn thing to me? ‘I’m fine, Roman…’ Saying it doesn’t make it true, John. And just because she says my being here doesn’t change things for all of us, doesn’t mean that’s true, either.”

John scowled. “And just because you’re ready to *allow* her back into your life, doesn’t mean that’s what she wants, Roman. Why did you come back here? Did you intend to magnanimously take her back? Did you figure three years was adequate punishment for all of her sins against you? That she’d be sufficiently guilty and penitent and grateful for any little crumb of affection you chose to offer?” His fists clenched. “Must have really pissed you off when she didn’t go running into your arms like the ending of some damn sappy movie. Must be making you crazy that she’d just as soon you go back to wherever the hell you came from, same as the rest of us.”

Roman’s lip curled derisively as he tried to keep from revealing that John’s jabs had found their marks. “And that doesn’t tip you off that’s something’s wrong with her? Does that sound like the Marlena you know? Do *any* of her reactions seem right to you? She’s acting like nothing at all has happened. I came back from the *dead*, for God’s sake!”

“Maybe she’s getting used to it!” John retorted blackly. He leaned over to snatch his briefcase from the couch and brushed angrily past Roman, his shoulder striking a glancing blow. He paused in the open door to glare back at the other man. “If you were assuming that I’d

step aside the way I did in 1991, you were gravely mistaken, Roman. I’m not about to give you *my* life on a silver platter ever again. I’m not the same man I was back then – I know exactly who I am and exactly what I want, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to keep it. If it’s a fight you’re looking for, I’ll give you the fight of your life. And when I choose to fight, I win!” Roman caught a quick glimpse of an openmouthed Hillary staring from behind John in the anteroom as John reached for the doorhandle. The door shut behind his departing form with a resounding *SLAM*, as if to emphasize his angry words.

Roman spun away from the door, inhaled deeply and slowly unclenched his fists. The red haze receded from his vision and he found himself staring down at Marlena’s desktop, his gaze caught by the framed picture of John with Brady and Belle sitting on the corner. He reached out to pick it up with shaking fingers, suddenly, distressingly aware of the differences between the present situation and the one he’d faced in 1991. And I thought things were bad then…

He studied Belle and Brady’s smiling faces with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Two more elements that John has on his side…And she knows exactly who he is now, doesn’t she?

Doesn’t she…

***

Marlena and Laura rounded one corner into the hallway in front of her office as Roman made his departure around another. Marlena opened the door to the anteroom and gestured for Laura to follow her inside. “Hello, Hillary,” she said, smiling at her secretary. “Any messages?”

Hillary managed a wan smile as she held up a few slips of pink paper. “Yes. Oh, and one I haven’t written down yet. Father Francis called from over at St. Luke’s. He needs to talk to you in person – he said it was very important.”

“Hmm, thanks,” Marlena murmured distractedly, before something made her peer more closely at Hillary’s expression. “Are you all right,

Hillary?”

“Yes, Doctor,” Hillary replied, chagrined. “I…er, never mind, it’s nothing.”

Understanding dawned across Marlena’s features. “Something happened after I left, didn’t it? It’s all right, Hillary. You can tell me.”

Hillary’s cheeks were flushed. “Captain Brady and Mr.

Black…They…um, they had a disagreement. It was sort of…loud.”

Marlena bit back a rueful grin as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I can imagine. It’s all right, Hillary. Dr. Horton and I have some things to discuss, but, as I have no appointments the rest of the day, why don’t you leave early? The switchboard can take any messages.”

“Thanks, Dr. Evans,” she replied, reaching for her purse. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Laura regarded Marlena with a look of concern as the secretary left. “Are you worried about this?”

“About John and Roman?” Marlena asked, eyebrows raised. She shook her head. “Frankly, it would be a little odd if there *weren’t* a bit of tension between them. Roman resents John’s role in the family – probably because he feels guilty for not being here himself so much of the time. And John is very sensitive when it comes to his place among the Bradys. I’m sure they’ll work it out.”

“Do you really think that’s all it is?” Laura persisted. “You think it’s about the family, and not…well, *you*?”

Marlena’s lip quirked wryly. “Believe me, Laura, Roman made it perfectly clear this morning that he hasn’t forgotten my betrayal of our marriage vows with John. Obviously he didn’t truly feel the forgiveness he wrote of in his letters. But that’s all right. We’re divorced, and it’s in the past. And the family stuff will work itself out in time, too. You’ll

see.” She frowned down at her fistful of messages.

“What is it?” Laura asked, peering over her shoulder.

“What? Oh, I was just thinking about Father Francis.”

“Do you know why he called you?”

Marlena led her into the inner office and they both sat down on the sofa. “I think so. I called him before the costume party to inquire about St. Luke’s’ availability during December. I was thinking that a winter wedding might be nice, so I asked him if any Saturdays were free.” Her brow furrowed. “I find it odd that he didn’t just leave a message for me – it seems pretty simple, either there are available dates or there aren’t.”

Laura fingered a couch cushion thoughtfully. “Maybe that isn’t what he wants to talk to you about,” she ventured finally.

Marlena turned to look at her and raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Laura took a deep breath. “I was just thinking about…well, I know how meaningful it must be to John for the two of you to get married at St. Luke’s. I know how important the Church has been to him ever since he found out he used to be a priest. He takes the opinions of the priests – Father Francis, in particular – very seriously indeed.”

“Yes, I’ve seen that,” Marlena replied, nodding her head. “I can hear a ‘but’ coming…”

Laura shook her head. “Well…I’m not Catholic so I’m a little unclear on the dictates of the Church when it comes to…um, former spouses returning from the dead, or if it even has a policy to deal with such a thing. Do you see what I’m getting at? Isn’t it true that the Church doesn’t sanction divorce? In their eyes, aren’t you still married to Roman? And wouldn’t that make it impossible for you to marry John?”

Marlena blinked at her, eyes widening. “What?”

***

By the time Roman had walked off most of his explosive anger and ended an unexpected encounter with Abe, he was late meeting Carrie at the house for their planned dinner. He let himself in the front door, muttering softly under his breath as he tried to decide between pizza and Chinese. He blinked in surprise as he looked up and beheld Carrie, who twisted around on the couch to give him a welcoming grin. “Hi, Daddy.” She noted his confusion and held up a silver keyring. “Still have a key. I figured you were running late so I let myself in. Marlena’s upstairs with the kids.”

He nodded as he sat down on the couch next to her and sighed gratefully, relaxing into the plump cushions. “I ran into Abe on the pier. We were talking about my returning to the police force, and I guess time got away from us.”

Carrie’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “What? Are you quitting the ISA?”

He nodded. “Already did, actually. There was no way I could continue to work for them after I found out how they’d lied to the family about my death.”

“Hmm…well, I suppose that makes sense.” He eyed her strangely, and she hurriedly added, “Of course, I’m very glad you’ll be staying in town.” She glanced back toward the stairs up which Marlena had disappeared a few minutes earlier. “Does…does Marlena you’re staying in town yet?”

Roman studied her silently for a moment. “No, not yet. So…how do you think she’ll feel about it?”

Carrie averted her gaze and bit her lower lip nervously. “Um, I

suppose she’ll be happy about it, for our sakes. Sami’s and mine, I mean. She would want us to have our father around – especially Sami. Lord knows Marlena needs someone to help keep her in check, and she hasn’t had much luck with it herself.”

He nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving her face. “That’s the only reason?”

Carrie laughed uncomfortably, still unwilling to meet his eyes. “Isn’t it good enough? I’d think you’d want to stick around now that you’ve met your grandson and everything. And, of course, there’s my wedding coming up.”

“The wedding,” he replied flatly. “Yes, there’s that.”

She looked over at him, startled. “Is something wrong, Daddy?”

He took a deep breath and reached for her hand, patting it gently.

“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about this wedding business, Carrie.
Now, I want you to know that I understand that you’ve
been…*involved* with Austin for a very long time, and that you
probably regard him as an important part of your life…but don’t you
think you’re rushing things a bit?”

She slid her hand out from underneath his fingers and regarded him warily, a faint flush darkening her cheeks. “Rushing things? It’s been *years* since we fell in love, Dad. We’ve fought long and hard to be together, because we love each other more than anything. And, anyway, we’d have gotten married two years ago if it weren’t for all of Sami’s tricks.”

“Tricks!” Roman snorted derisively. “He got her *pregnant*, Carrie. She sure didn’t manage *that* on her own, no matter what he’s told you.”

A dangerous glint entered her eyes. “He told me he doesn’t *remember* that night, and Sami has admitted to everyone that she

drugged him to get him to sleep with her. It wasn’t *Austin’s* fault that Will was conceived that night, Dad. It was Sami’s.”

Roman waved an impatient hand. “She was a *child*, Carrie. Obviously he led her to believe that his feelings for her were more than friendship, or she never would have tried something so drastic. And now that they share a child, he has responsibilities to them.”

Carrie shot up from the couch, her shoulders stiff with protest. “Austin *is* responsible, Dad. Too *damn* responsible sometimes, in fact. What are you saying? That you think he should *marry* Sami because she gave birth to his son? Oh, that would really teach her, wouldn’t it – all she has to do is lie, cheat, steal and scheme and everything she wants will fall into her lap. Well, I’m sorry, Dad, but it’s not going to happen. I won’t let it!”

Roman stood up from the couch and grabbed her upper arms, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I never said I wanted him to marry her, Carrie. The last thing Sami needs is to find herself shackled to a man like that for the rest of her life. I don’t want *either* of my daughters married to a man so obviously beneath them. I don’t want Austin Reed in *either* of your lives.”

Carrie laughed disbelievingly and wrenched her shoulders from his grip. “Are you serious? Austin’s not going anywhere! Even if he and I weren’t together – which is not about to happen, by the way, no matter what *you* want – he’s Will’s father, so he’ll always be in all of our lives.”

Roman frowned, his eyes taking on a faraway cast as he gazed over her shoulder toward the pictures on the mantle. “Not necessarily. Sami is too young to take care of a child – her life has barely begun, and I’m not about to allow this to ruin it. But Austin is a grown man, and he should have to deal with the consequences of his actions.”

Carrie peered closely at him, greatly disturbed by the tenor of his words. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” she asked

incredulously. “Do you actually think there’s any way in this world you could get Will away from Sami? And then you want to give him to a man whom you apparently still despise? God, what kind of grandfather are you?” Years of suppressed anger came rushing to the fore, and new grievances mixed with the old in Carrie’s mind. “For that matter, what kind of *father* are you? You bail out on us for *three* whole years and then come back spouting dictatorial decrees about how we should live our lives and who we should love. Who the *hell* do you think you are?!?” Her voice had risen to a shout that permeated the entire house.

“I am your *father*!” he shouted back, hurt and anger suffusing his face. As the echoes of his declaration died away, father and daughter glared at each other silently for a moment, two sets of fists tightly clenched, both bodies humming with the tension of muted fury.

Slowly the ire drained from Carrie’s eyes, to be replaced by an ineffable sadness. “Yes,” she agreed in a tired voice. “You are my father.” Her gaze met his, and something in her expression caused a ball of fear to uncurl in his stomach. “But you know less than nothing about me,” she continued regretfully, “and you’ve never even bothered to try and learn. Every time you come here you try to dictate my life, and you completely ignore what *I* want and how *I* feel. So now it’s come to this…” She paused, inhaled deeply, and steeled herself for his reaction. “I don’t *care* what you think about my decision to marry Austin. *Your* feelings on the subject do not matter to *me*. I was planning to invite you to the wedding, out of some sense of daughterly duty, but I think this afternoon’s conversation has absolved me of that obligation.”

“You don’t want me to come to your wedding?” he asked, stunned. “How can you say that, Carrie?”

“How can I say that?” she repeated blankly. “Well, for one thing, I’ve had *one* wedding without you here, and it wasn’t your absence that spoiled it. Do you think I want you at the church glowering at my groom and pointing out the facts of his son’s parentage at every

opportunity? No, thank you, Dad, I really don’t need that. I have plenty of family who are happy for me and supportive of what I want. *Those* are the people I want there with me – people like Grandma, Grandpa, Marlena, and-” She cut herself off and shook her head tiredly.

“John,” he finished bitterly. “You were going to say John, weren’t you?”

The contempt in his tone raised her hackles. “Yes, as a matter of fact, I was.” A malicious smile curved her lips momentarily. “He’s already agreed to come, actually. I had a special job I wanted him to do. You see…I asked him to walk me down the aisle.” She experienced a small burst of guilty satisfaction as he winced perceptibly. Direct hit!

Roman took several deep breaths as he tried to control his raging temper. He was at a loss to understand how a simple discussion of his daughter’s future had degenerated into a knockdown drag-out fight, but the last thing he wanted to do was alienate her completely. “Okay…*Okay*, Carrie, I deserved that. I’m sorry you feel that I’m being unfair about Austin, but I refuse to lie to you about my feelings concerning your relationship. And I know that you needed someone to take my place in the wedding party when you thought that I had died. It makes sense that you would ask John, since you believed he was your father for several years.”

Her jaw clenched mutinously at this dismissal of the depth of her feelings for John. “I didn’t ask John to ‘take your place’! I asked John to walk me down the aisle because I *wanted* John, and I asked him way before the ISA informed us of your latest supposed ‘death’. And not just because I knew you probably wouldn’t take the time from your precious *job* to even *come* to the wedding, but because I wanted him to walk me down the aisle, the way I always dreamed he would. *Him*, not *you*!” She spat the final words, her eyes blazing with miserable fury as she turned her back on him to snatch her purse from the coffee table.

“Carrie-” he began, reaching for her arm, but she pulled away from him and skirted the couch, heading for the front door. She almost crashed into Marlena as the other woman emerged from the stairway, her arms filled by a heavy cardboard box with a picture frame resting facedown on top of it.

“Carrie!” Marlena exclaimed as Carrie grabbed her arm to keep her from falling. “What is going *on* down here? I could hear the two of you yelling all the way up in the attic.”

“Oh,” Carrie muttered, tossing her father an angry glare over her shoulder, “Nothing is going on, except the usual. Dad was just telling me how to live my life, glorious expert on relationships that he is. And I was telling him exactly what he could *do* with his suggestions.”

“Carrie!” Marlena sputtered, shocked by her sweet daughter’s savage tone. “Don’t talk about your father that way. It isn’t respectful.”

“Well, that’s fine, then, because I don’t respect him!” She winced at the censure in Marlena’s expression. “I’m sorry, Marlena. The last thing I want to do is make any of this any harder on *you* than it already is. I’m just going to get out of here before I say anything else I won’t be able – or willing – to take back.”

“Sweetheart-” Marlena murmured, but Carrie shook her head and reached for the doorknob. It twisted in her hand before she had a chance to turn it and the door opened, revealing John standing on the front porch.

John took one look at Carrie’s face and frowned worriedly. “What’s wrong, Carrie? Has something happened? Are you all right?”

Carrie sighed. “I’m fine, John. I just want to get *out* of here, please.”

Chagrined, he stood back from the door to leave her room to exit. “Sure, Punkin, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

“You’re not,” she replied, instantly contrite for snapping at him. “You never could. But I think coming over here was a bad idea, and leaving is a much better one. I’ll see you at work tomorrow, okay?” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

“Sure,” he said, still baffled. “Oh, before you go, I talked to Stacy late this afternoon. She said the author who’s working on the Bella article about Isabella will be at the photo shoot tomorrow afternoon – DeAnn Smith, I think her name was. Seems she’s big news – pardon the pun – in feature reporting. Anyway, we had to push everything back an hour to accommodate her schedule. Is that a problem for you?”

She smiled wanly. “No, of course not. See you tomorrow.” She looked back at Marlena and blinked an apology. “You, too.”

“Bye…” Once Carrie had gone, John and Marlena turned as one to regard Roman silently. He flushed guiltily under their perceptive gazes.

“We had a…disagreement about Austin, okay? We’ll work it out.” He cast about for another subject, his gaze finally coming to rest on the box in Marlena’s hands. “What do you have there, Doc?”

Marlena looked down at the box as if she had forgotten she was holding it. “Oh. This.” She glanced at John, then back at Roman. “Well, I was going through the mess in the attic in preparation for our move, when I heard you and Carrie yelling. I didn’t even realize I’d brought this stuff down with me.”

“Well, let’s see what you’ve got there,” John said, willing to go with the change of subject if it would ease the tension in the room. He smiled as he picked up the picture frame. “Oh, I remember this,” he chuckled, as closer perusal revealed a small velveteen copy of the famous poker-playing dogs. “Bo gave this to me for my birthday years ago. He told me it was just the thing to hang in my office at the Cop Shop to generate respect from my subordinates.”

“I might have guessed Bo was involved,” Marlena laughed, studying the tacky picture. “He once bought me a complete set of Ginsu knives, gourmet chef that I am. He’s never had much of a sense of logic when it comes to buying presents.”

“He doesn’t, does he?” Roman interjected, managing a wry chuckle. He glanced conspiratorially at Marlena. “Remember the stolen microwave he gave us as a wedding gift, Doc?”

She stiffened and her smile faded fractionally. “Of course, I do…” She swallowed convulsively. “You were always so hard on Bo.”

It was Roman’s turn to stiffen as John relieved Marlena of the box and set it on the floor. “Let’s see what’s in here,” John murmured, pulling up a cardboard flap. “Well, I don’t think this one’s mine,” he finally concluded in a muffled voice.

“What?” Marlena asked, reaching into the box. She pulled out a dilapidated lump of a sleeping bag. “Oh…” Sudden tears filled her eyes and she compressed her lips to keep them from spilling over.

“I remember that,” Roman offered softly, silently willing Marlena to meet his eyes. When she finally raised her tormented gaze to connect with his, he offered her a melting smile. “I remember everything about our first night together, ‘Legs’.”

A reflexive smile tugged at her lips before her expression again grew shuttered. Unwilling to let the moment pass, Roman crossed the room and dug into the box. “And this,” he offered, pulling out a garish sombrero with a flourish. “You have to remember this, Doc. Mazatlan…the sun and the sand and the ocean…and the two of us, when we were the only two people in the world…” He plopped the sombrero on his head and shuffled a few steps of a Mexican hat dance, just as he had done so many years ago. “Ole!”

A broken sob issued from Marlena’s lips. “Don’t!” she cried softly, a lone tear escaping to streak down her cheek. “Just don’t.” She turned

to John, who was regarding her silently, his expression a mixture of sorrow and resignation. She reached up to caress his cheek, mute apology evident in her gentle touch. The pain in his eyes was more than she could bear. Without another glance toward Roman, she turned and fled up the stairs.

The two men stood frozen in place for several moments. The sombrero tipped drunkenly down over Roman’s face, giving him an incongruously festive appearance, at odds with his sober expression. John stared down at the sleeping bag, the false memories implanted in his mind by Stefano warring with his true knowledge of the past. But he knew that the man who’d so brazenly forced his protective way into Marlena’s apartment all those years ago had been the real Roman Brady, not he. And he knew that Marlena remembered it as well. Finally, John looked up, and his haunted gaze met Roman’s.

“So she’s fine, is she?” Roman remarked, his voice devoid of any hint

of triumph. It was not a question.
Chapter 57
“What do you think, Belle?” Marlena asked, stroking the fine blonde hair of the little girl in her arms. “Looks pretty neat, huh?”

Belle nodded, her attention caught by the brightly lit makeup table, crammed cheek to jowl with enticing-looking bottles, jars, and boxes. She pointed toward it. “Look, Mommy.”

“I see that,” Marlena replied, shooting a merry glance toward John, who was miming abject horror at the thought of his baby daughter wearing makeup. They had just arrived at Titan for the cover photo shoot, and now awaited the arrival of Carrie, Bella’s editor, and the writer. A few technicians wandered about the back of the photo lab, making indecipherably minute adjustments to the equipment.

Brady squirmed in his father’s arms. “That’s girl stuff,” he said disdainfully. “I wanna look at the cameras.”

Bella editor Stacy Krugman emerged from behind a painted background flat, a slender brown-haired woman carrying a notepad

trailing slightly behind her. “I heard that, young man,” she said, smiling at Brady. “Why don’t you go over and ask Chris how they work? He’s the blonde-haired man in the purple jeans.”

“Cool,” Brady happily replied, scrambling down toward the floor.

“Be careful and don’t touch anything,” Marlena called after him. He waved a hand over his shoulder and disappeared behind a stack of trunks filled with photo equipment. Marlena frowned worriedly. “I hope he’ll be all right.”

“Oh, Chris will take good care of him,” Stacy assured them. She waved at a moody-looking goateed young cameraman standing behind a tripod. He nodded to her and bent down to greet Brady with a high-five, his face alight with genuine warmth. “He loves kids – it’s adults that bring out the temperamental artist in him. Dr. Evans, Mr. Black, I’d like to introduce you to the woman who’ll be writing our cover story, DeAnn Smith. We were very fortunate that she joined our staff at Bella in time to do justice to it. She comes highly recommended, believe me.” A round of handshakes followed, with DeAnn solemnly offering her hand to Belle, who shook it, giggling.

DeAnn smiled at John and Marlena. “I just wanted to meet all of you together, and perhaps get some preliminary interviewing done. I would also like to have in-depth meetings with each of you later this week, if that’s acceptable. I’m very excited about the article. I think it will make a wonderful story.”

John managed a sad smile. Though he’d come to terms with the idea of the article, depression over its subject was apt to steal upon him at odd moments. “Yes, well, Isabella was a wonderful woman.” He glanced toward Marlena, who was speaking softly to Belle, her attention centered on her daughter’s small, earnest face. “However, Marlena and I have some concerns about what effect this might have on the children. We don’t want Brady to become confused about his place within our family. He only recently began to call Marlena ‘Mom’ and I don’t want any of this to upset him. And we want to make sure

this does nothing to alter the closeness he and Belle share, by implying there are any differences in the degree of our love for each of them.”

DeAnn nodded seriously. “Of course, I understand that completely, and will bear it in mind when framing my questions. And I definitely have no objections to your looking them over before I ask them. But I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. I want to speak to the children in the interest of ensuring a complete story, but most of my attention will be paid to you, Mrs. Black’s brother, your fiancee, Ms. Brady, and the people representing the various organizations Mrs. Black’s legacy funds. I’m only sorry I won’t be able to speak to her father, as he put so much effort into launching the magazine after her death.”

John sighed. “Yes, I wish you could speak to him as well, but his medical condition precludes that. However, I’ve asked Carrie to make the various press releases that accompanied the founding of Bella available to you, and I’m sure Kate Roberts would have time to talk to you, too, if needed.”

“Hey, guys!” Carrie called happily as she swept into the room, pulling a wildly dressed bespectacled young woman along behind her. “Sorry I’m late, but I wanted to make sure everything was all set for the shoot. This is Tricia from wardrobe. She has several outfits picked out for each of us, ranging from dressy to casual.” Carrie turned to Marlena. “The rest of us will be taking our cue from your selection, so why don’t you and Belle go with Tricia and look them over? I’ll join you in a minute.”

Marlena nodded and smiled at the diminutive redheaded dresser. If she had any misgivings about taking wardrobe advice from someone dressed in chartreuse spandex and studded black leather, she hid them well. “We’re all yours.” She nodded a goodbye to Stacy and DeAnn, who had moved off to confer about the story.

Carrie watched Marlena and Belle follow Tricia through the side door,

then turned to look up at John. “Is everything okay?”

He smiled distractedly. “Of course. Everything’s fine. Why do you ask?”

She regarded him uncertainly. “I don’t know. You seem a little…tense. I was afraid that I started some kind of problem for you guys last night, and I wanted to apologize. I really don’t want to make this more difficult on the two of you than it already is.”

John sucked in his cheeks thoughtfully. “Don’t worry about it, Carrie. The party broke up relatively quickly after you left. We retired to our respective corners to watch TV and eat leftovers, and then Doc and I played with the kids until bedtime. She went to bed early with a headache, and Roman left in the wee hours this morning for some reason. It seems like we pretty much managed to completely avoid each other after you left, actually. Besides,” he said, managing a small smile of reassurance for her, “any difficulties we might be having are definitely not your fault.”

Carrie’s brow furrowed in concern. She reached over to gently touch his arm. “Are there? Any difficulties, I mean.”

John closed his eyes for a moment. “You might say that,” he finally admitted. “And, actually, you might be able to help me figure some things out…But I don’t like talking about Marlena behind her back, so first I want you to promise me that anything I tell you will go no further.”

Wide-eyed, Carrie nodded. “I promise.”

He sighed. “Roman’s return has thrown her a lot more than she’d like to admit. When we thought he had died…well, she was able to relegate their life together to some dark, ignorable corner of her mind. Objectively, she *knew* that I wasn’t him, that they’d shared years together that she couldn’t remember, and that it had ended badly.” He turned to look at her. “But she didn’t have to *face* it. Do you

understand what I mean?”

Carrie nodded slowly. “And you’re saying now she has to deal with it, because he’s here. And because he’s not leaving anytime soon.”

John’s jaw clenched upon hearing that admittedly – if he were honest with himself, anyway – unwelcome news. “He isn’t?” He sighed again. “I suppose I should have expected that.”

“He said he had no choice but to quit the ISA after he found out they had told us he was dead,” Carrie informed him. “He told me he had talked to Abe yesterday about rejoining the police force. I said I was happy about it, but…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly.

“But what?” John asked.

“But I’m not sure I am,” she admitted finally. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled that Dad is alive and healthy and somewhat interested in his children again, but I can’t help wishing…well, I don’t want him to screw everything up, you know? I mean, he wasn’t even home for a day before he was on my case about Austin. No contact at all for almost three whole years and then ‘BAM’, it’s ‘Live your life according to my rules!’ all over again.” Her expression hardened. “Well, he’s just going to have to accept that I’m an adult now, and he can’t tell me what to do. I won’t let him keep me away from Austin.”

“But he tried to,” John concluded correctly. “Was that what your argument was about last night?”

She sighed. “That, and Will, and Sami, and the wedding…oh, everything and nothing all at the same time, I guess. I was just so happy when we first found out he was alive that I forgot that I was angry at him for bailing out on us, and then it all came spilling out all at once last night.” Her eyes were downcast. “I said some pretty horrible things, John.”

“I’m sure he understands why,” John offered in an attempt t be

comforting.

Carrie bit her lip. “I’m not. And frankly, I’m *still* angry enough not to care. I can’t believe he thought he could just come in here and order me to break up with Austin, like he has the right to dictate how I live my life.” She looked up at John. “It wouldn’t matter so much if he were going to leave on another mission soon, but since he’s going to stay…” Her voice trailed off and she inhaled deeply, trying to think of a way to ask him something that had held her preoccupied the entire previous evening. “Tell me something, John. Do you think quitting the ISA is the only reason he’s staying in Salem? Or do you think it’s something else?”

John’s lips quirked in a wry grin as he realized how closely her thought processes parallelled his own. “Do I think he came back for Marlena, you mean? Is that what you want to know?” She nodded, and he shrugged. “I don’t know what to tell you, Carrie. Maybe he believed he *had* forgiven her, and had gotten past everything that happened, at least enough to come back and make another go of it. Maybe that *is* why he came back initially. And now that he knows Marlena doesn’t remember the breakup…well, maybe a part of him thinks it would be possible to do it all over again, with a better ending this time. Of course, he hasn’t *confided* in me that that’s how he feels, so I don’t know for sure, but it *is* possible.”

She digested that silently, her mind racing. Finally, she asked in a hesitant voice, “Does that worry you?”

He gazed across the room at Brady, who was deeply involved in an animated discussion with Chris. His little face was screwed into an expression of fierce concentration so reminiscent of Isabella that it made John smile momentarily, even as his heart ached at the possibility that his son might be torn from another mother. “What worries me,” he confided finally, banishing that depressing thought from his mind with difficulty, “is that Roman’s presence here will upset Marlena too much. She’s an incredibly strong woman, but she’s been through so much in the past few months. It was finally looking like

things would calm down, that we’d get a chance to sit back and enjoy life, without all the problems…”

“And then Dad showed up,” Carrie concluded.

“Yes,” he sighed. “I’m not saying that I’m not glad that he’s alive,” he added hurriedly. “You know that’s not it, I’m *happy* for the family, I really am. It’s just…I worry so much about Doc, that’s all.”

“What about Doc?” the woman in question asked as she and Belle emerged from the wardrobe room. Belle had placed a large, swooping Southern belle-type hat on her mother’s head and was happily twirling the trailing ribbons between her fingers.

Carrie squeezed John’s arm supportively before turning to face Marlena. “Please tell me we aren’t going for the plantation look today,” she whined, stamping her foot childishly. Marlena and Belle both laughed. Chuckling, Carrie asked, “So did you pick something out? Are we casual or dressy today?”

Marlena eyed John speculatively, but proceeded to answer Carrie’s question without further comment. “Casual. *Very* casual, as a matter of fact. I figure we’ll get a lot more pictures out of the kids if we forgo the ties and tights.”

Carrie grinned. “Good thinking.” She plucked Belle from her mother’s arms and swung the little girl up onto her hip. “Well, we girls had better go get changed before proceeding to makeup. The guys can get dressed after Sonya works her magic on them, but we don’t want to get pancake on our collars, do we, sweetie?” Belle copied Carrie’s emphatic headshake, though she clearly had no idea what her sister was talking about.

Brady’s ears perked up as he came barrelling across the room to crash into his father’s legs. “Pancakes?”

“Not that kind of pancake,” John informed him, swinging him up into

his arms until their noses met. “Want to put on some makeup, Slugger?” he asked, crossing his eyes comically.

Brady made a face as the assembly laughed. “Ew, yuck!”

***

Roman’s curious gaze took in the luxurious appointments in the hallway that led to the executive offices on the tenth floor of the Titan building. As the elevator doors slid shut behind him, he walked toward the information desk across from the conference room. He studiously avoided looking over at the door that concealed the table upon which John and Marlena had had their second adulterous tryst. Don’tthinkaboutit, Don’tthinkaboutit. Was a long, long time ago, man. He rubbed his forehead tiredly, ruefully admitting to himself, Not long enough… “Hi,” he said, managing a convincing smile for the elegantly coiffed young woman seated behind the desk. “I’m looking for Carrie Brady’s office.”

She eyed his flannel shirt and leather jacket with mostly- concealed disdain, but Roman could tell she was wondering why security had permitted him to ascend to the executive floor. “Do you have an appointment? Ms. Brady’s schedule is very busy today.”

His smile soured just a bit. “I’m her father. I need to talk to her…it’s family business, very important.”

Her eyes widened as her refined composure slipped a notch upon learning of his identity. He wondered idly if she was new on the job – surely experienced executive secretaries developed a bit more of a poker face. “Her father? But I thought her father was-”

“Dead?” Roman finished, raising an eyebrow. “Well, a lot of people believed that, but, fortunately, the reports of my death were greatly exaggerated.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not that. I mean, I’m glad that you’re not

dead, but I hadn’t heard you were, because I don’t know who you are, so… Anyway, I just thought her father was John Black. I mean, we all did, we figured that was why she got the job.” She clapped her hand over her mouth as her cheeks reddened. “Oh, God, I didn’t mean to say that. Please don’t tell them I said that.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he replied sardonically, barely managing to suppress a scowl. “So, if you could point me to my daughter’s office, I’ll be on my way.”

The secretary, her face still flaming, nervously scanned the schedule on her desk. “It says here…hmmm, oh, yes, that’s right. She’s at a photo shoot for the next Bella cover. The photo lab is in the basement, room 002. Just take the elevator down to “B” and it’s two doors down the corridor to the right.”

“Thank you *so* much,” he replied sarcastically, turning on his heel and stalking back toward the elevators. Behind him, the secretary sighed and pondered the concept of job security.

***

“Say Cheese!” Chris called. The dutiful chorus of replies was met by a bright flash. “Say Peanut Butter and Bananas!” That suggestion occasioned unsuccessfully stifled giggles from the children as they obeyed. “Say Supercalifragilisticexpealidocious!” After a few sputtering attempts at compliance the Black family was reduced to helpless laughter, just in time for Chris to call a halt to the proceedings in order to exchange the used film cartridge in the camera for a fresh one.

DeAnn bounded up to the bench that served as a set and offered them a bright smile. “These are going to look wonderful! You all look so…color-coordinated.”

John laughed as he swung his daughter up over his shoulders. “Do you have a problem with baseball uniforms, Ms. Smith? Or are you just not a Yankees fan?”

“Rangers all the way,” she confirmed with a wink. She held out a hand to help Brady hop down from the bench. “I think you all look adorable, frankly, even if your taste in teams is atrocious.”

Carrie leaned over the back of the bench and wrapped an arm around Marlena’s shoulders. Marlena remained seated, though the two squirming children she’d held on her lap throughout the session had deserted her. Sonya the makeup artist darted in for a quick touchup. “We were brainwashed from early childhood,” Carrie confided to DeAnn in a stage whisper. “Go Yankees, go Yankees, go Yankees…”

Marlena slapped playfully at her stepdaughter’s hand. “I had nothing to do with it, I might remind you. I was perfectly happy for you to cheer for the Mets.”

John mimed being shot in the heart, dangling Belle precariously out in front of him. The little girl shrieked with laughter. “Oh, what a heartless woman! Not to mention she obviously has absolutely no taste at all!”

Marlena grinned wickedly up at him. “You’ve got a point there. After all, I’m marrying *you*, aren’t I?”

DeAnn smiled as she noted something down on her pad. “When exactly will that be, by the way? I’m sure our readers will want to know.” She was unprepared for the silence that fell after she asked her question. “What?”

Marlena wrenched her gaze from John’s face and smiled distractedly at the writer. “We, um, haven’t set a date yet. Sometime in December, we’re hoping.”

Carrie eyed John and Marlena anxiously, then smiled brightly at DeAnn. “Want to hear about their first wedding? John jumped in the river right after the ceremony. Then they went on a honeymoon to West Virginia and almost got blown up by a landmine. And *I* was the flower girl.”

DeAnn laughed at her lofty tone, cognizant of the tension in the room and willing to go along with a change of subject to relieve it. Now was not the time for a probing interview – the two smallest children were staring at their parents, wide-eyed, as if they sensed something was wrong. She turned to Carrie. “Are you planning on an encore performance?” she asked mischievously.

Carrie leaned over and tickled Belle in the ribs. “Oh, I think I’ll let my little sis here take over for me.”

“Bridesmaid,” Marlena confirmed, smiling at the two of them. “I’m going to ask my two oldest daughters to be bridesmaids.”

“That’s wonderful,” DeAnn said. “Then this will truly be a family affair.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Uh-oh, looks like Chris is ready to begin shooting again. I’d better get out of the picture before he throws something at me.”

“Come here, munchkin,” Carrie ordered Brady. She helped him clamber up onto the bench and settle on Marlena’s lap. John deposited Belle on her other side and stepped back to wrap an arm around Carrie’s shoulders. Chris looked up to find his subjects already in place and grinned at them.

“Are you sure you guys haven’t ever done this professionally?” He reached forward and adjusted a lever on the camera. “Okay, smile everyone! The Yankees just won the series!”

***

Roman could hear the sound of cheering emanating from behind the door to the photo lab. Obviously the people inside hadn’t heard his quiet knock. He reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly, wary of interrupting, idly wondering why Carrie’s presence was required at a routine cover shoot. He vaguely recalled John mentioning something about it as she’d rushed from the house yesterday, but he’d been reeling from their argument and hadn’t paid close attention.

The door opened a crack and he peered inside, only to be faced with the backs of three women who were staring at something across the room. One, dressed in a wild leather and spandex outfit, cupped her hands to her lips and shouted “Go Indians!”, a comment which was met by boos from unseen persons.

What? Roman thought, stepping inside the room, only to be stopped in his tracks by the sound of Marlena’s voice, stretched into a slow Southern drawl. “You’d better watch out, Tricia. Them’s fightin’ words to this here cowboy.”

“You better believe *that*,” came Carrie’s lilting affirmation. “Not to mention that he won’t be smiling in the pictures.”

Roman walked forward to peer over the spandex-woman’s shoulders. The sight that met his gaze startled him – Marlena and John surrounded by Belle, Brady and *Carrie*, all clad in identical Yankees baseball uniforms. *My* daughter! What’s going on here? They were all looking toward a grungy-looking guy in purple jeans standing behind a camera tripod. “Don’t listen to the peanut gallery,” he advised them. “Yankees all the way! Now smile!” Marlena, John and Carrie obliged him with exaggerated grimaces. “Very funny. Cut out the Addams family routine. That’s not the look we’re going for.”

Carrie and John looked at each other simultaneously and began to hum the Addams’ Family tune in unison, snapping their fingers at the end of a verse. The three women in front of Roman broke into laughter, and suddenly Marlena’s eyes met his. The smile fell from her face.

Chris peered out from behind the camera and frowned at Marlena. “Uh, Dr. Evans, is something wrong?”

Her gaze flitted back to him guiltily. “No…I’m sorry, Chris, I was just…startled.”

By that time the rest of the room had noted Roman’s presence, and Chris proceeded to exhibit his famed artistic temperament. “Who the bloody hell- er, sorry, kids – *heck* let *him* in here? How am I supposed to work with all these interruptions?”

Stacy and DeAnn glanced at one another and rolled their eyes. Stacy crossed the room to calm Chris while DeAnn turned to Roman and raised an inquiring brow. “Is there something you need? We’re in the middle of a shoot here.”

Roman cleared his throat. “I came to see *my* daughter,” he informed her, a slight edge to his voice.

Carrie came up to them and lightly touched her father’s arm. “It’s okay, DeAnn, I’ll take care of it.” She turned back and called to Chris, “Do you have enough for the cover yet?” He nodded reluctantly, his scowl still in place. “Then you can begin shooting the interiors. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” She tugged on Roman’s arm and he tore his gaze from Marlena, who was speaking to the children in a low voice, her head down and her shoulders tense. John watched them silently, his expression blank. “Let’s *go*, Dad,” Carrie implored. He allowed her to lead him out into the hallway.

“What’s going on?” he asked her once the door had shut.

She regarded him unhappily. “What are you *doing* here?” she asked instead of answering him.

“I didn’t like the way we left things last night,” he explained. “And I wanted to tell you that I talked to Abe this morning and I’m back on the force.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “Now, it’s your turn. What’s going on in there?”

Her brow furrowed. “We’re doing a photo shoot for the next cover of Bella.”

“I know *that*,” Roman replied, slightly annoyed. “Why are John,

Marlena, you and the kids going to be on it?”

Carrie shrugged. “Well, it’s the five-year anniversary of Isabella’s death, and we’re doing a cover story on her legacy.” She held up her hand to tick off points on her fingers. “Brady is, of course, her most obvious legacy. John was her husband. Belle is her namesake. I was her friend and I work for the company she left behind, and Marlena is returning as the featured columnist for Bella, the magazine named after her.” Her gaze narrowed as she studied his face. “She’s also the kids’ mother and engaged to Isabella’s widower.” Roman flinched perceptibly and she sighed. I was afraid of this… “Look, Dad, I’m sorry we fought last night, and I’m glad you got back on the police force, but this isn’t really a good time, okay? I’ll call you later.”

He glanced back at the door. “Are you almost finished?”

She frowned. “Why?”

“Because I need to talk to Doc, that’s why,” he snapped, exasperated. “Do you have a problem with that?”

“Actually,” she replied haughtily, miffed at his tone, “I do happen to have a problem with you upsetting her. She’s been through a hell of a lot in the past few months. The last thing she needs is more stress.”

He studied his daughter’s mutinous expression silently for a moment. “If my presence is stressful to her, don’t you think it would be a better idea for her to begin dealing with it instead of ignoring the problem?”

Carrie set her jaw and regarded him with steely eyes, unwilling to let him off the hook that easily. “Do you want to see Marlena for *her* sake? Or for yours? Tell me something, Dad – why did you come back to Salem? Did you come here because you want to get Marlena back?”

Roman bit back a reflexive defensive denial and exhaled slowly. His daughter’s expression dared him to admit the truth. “And what if I did?”

he asked quietly.

His calm, reasonable tone and open countenance threw her for a moment and she swallowed uneasily. “I don’t know what to say, Dad,” she muttered finally. “I guess a part of me will always want the family you made for me when I first came to Salem when I was only four years old.” She set her shoulders and raised her gaze to meet his. “But the rest of me knows that isn’t possible,” she continued implacably. “Too many things have happened. You *divorced* her, Dad, and then you left for three whole years. Time didn’t stop just because you were gone, you know. And Marlena had to get over you, and all the guilt and anger, because it was *killing* her. And then she fell in love with John all over again, and, frankly, I don’t think he’d ever really fallen out of love with her in the first place. I don’t think there is anything you can do to change all that.”

“And you don’t want me to try,” he concluded, subsequently judging himself correct from the guilty flash in her eyes.

“Do you really want to bring all that up again?” she asked plaintively, reaching for his arm. “God, Dad, I’d do anything to avoid putting the family through the kind of pain they endured four years ago. Wouldn’t you? Can’t you just let it go? Please, for *everyone’s* sake!”

Gently he shook off her arm. “It’s not that simple, Carrie. I haven’t said anything to Marlena about wanting her back. It’s my mere presence that upsets her, and that suggests that it’s something she *must* come to terms with, for her own sake. Don’t you think it would be better for her to do so before she and John are married? For everyone’s sake?” he added, arching an eyebrow as he repeated her previous words.

His reasoned reply brought her up short. Is he right? she wondered, suddenly confused. I thought I knew what would be best for everyone…but what if he’s right? “It’s only been one day, Dad,” Carrie reminded him finally, as the elevator doors squeaked open around the corner. “Give her a break, okay? Just go right now. You can talk to her later.” She managed a wan smile for the person approaching from

behind him. He turned to see the children’s nanny arrive.

“Is the shoot done?” Chelsea asked, glancing questioningly at Roman before smiling at Carrie. “I’ve come to get the children.”

“A few more minutes,” Carrie replied, darting a significant look at her father. “Good*bye*, Dad.”

Sighing, he nodded. It could wait – and he didn’t really want to get another eyeful of the Black family baseball team, anyway. “Fine, okay. I’ll see you – and *her* – later.”

***

Inside the photo lab the shoot proceeded apace. Stacy and DeAnn had disappeared into the back to confer about the layout, and Marlena had already changed into her business suit, having been the first one to complete her Kodak quota.

“A few more of you and your son, okay, Mr. Black?” Chris ordered. “Hold him up next to your face and give us a grin.”

John complied with the photographer’s instructions, painting a game smile on his face as he tickled Brady into a giggle. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Marlena seated at the makeup table, Belle helping her to remove her pancake makeup with a moist towelette. Behind her fond smile he could see the evidence of tension in her eyes and an almost hyperaware sensitivity to the door leading to the hallway. She stiffened as the knob turned and the door squeaked open, relaxing only when Carrie and Chelsea had entered unaccompanied and closed it behind them.

“Thanks, Mr. Black. These are going to look great.” Chris unscrewed a lens as he called across the room to Carrie, “I want some of you with the kids now, if you’re done seeing to your *guest*.” No one missed the sarcasm in his voice.

Carrie grimaced at him and turned to Marlena. “Dad-” she began, noting Marlena’s wince upon her use of the word, “-he, uh, he just wanted to square things with me and tell me he’s back on the force.”

Marlena sucked in her cheeks. “Is he? Well, that’s fine, I’m sure. I’m glad he’ll be here for you and Sami. Does he…is he gone?” She tried to stifle a sigh of relief at Carrie’s nod, but both John and Carrie heard it.

“Doc,” John said, reaching for her hand and drawing her up from the chair, “why don’t we let Carrie and Chelsea take charge of the kids? I’d like to talk to you for a minute before you have to get back to the hospital.”

She regarded him with narrowed eyes as she tried to discern his purpose from his voice, but she couldn’t read anything in his noncommittal tone. “All right,” she agreed slowly. She leaned down to give Belle and Brady a good-bye kiss. “You two be good for Carrie, Chelsea and Chris, all right? We’ll see you at home.”

***

Marlena glanced nervously at John as the doors pinged open and they exited the elevator. They nodded at the flustered- looking secretary behind the desk, oblivious to her astonishment over John’s Yankees attire. He led Marlena across the plush carpet to the door of the conference room and pushed it open with one hand. “They’re doing something to my computer this afternoon,” he explained as they entered the room, “augmenting, or upgrading, or downsizing or some other damn thing. Anyway, it’s supposed to take a couple of hours and the techs *really* hate being interrupted. If you do, they install obscene screensavers or something even worse.”

Marlena shrugged and smiled. “Don’t ask me. I can just about find the ‘on’ switch on computers these days. They’re light-years ahead of what they used to be.”

John’s expression darkened at her oblique reference to the years she’d lost due to the amnesia. “Yeah…”

Marlena leaned back against the edge of the large conference table and regarded John warily. “So,” she asked, “what did you want to talk to me about? Wedding plans? You know, I still think December is the way to go, even if we can’t get the sanctuary at St. Luke’s. What about-”

“Stop it, Doc,” John commanded, cutting her off. “Just stop it.” His voice trembled.

She studied him quietly for a moment, her heart suddenly beating triple-time. The silence enveloping them thickened oppressively. “What?” she eventually asked, her tone low with trepidation.
John rubbed his forehead wearily and ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up in unruly spikes. The sight was almost comical, and Marlena would have laughed but for the bleak expression on his face. “It’s not going to happen, Marlena,” he finally murmured roughly, unwilling to meet her eyes. “You know it, and I know it, too.”

Marlena clenched her teeth so tightly that a shooting pain lanced through her jaw. Her face paled. “What isn’t going to happen, John?” she whispered.

His gaze finally met hers, and his eyes – dark with anguish, fear and utter determination – caused her blood to run cold. But it took his words to stop her breath.

“Marlena, it’s time we face the truth, no matter how much it hurts.” He swallowed with difficulty, barely managing to finish his sentence. “And the truth is…we can’t get married.”
Chapter 58

Sami Brady slung her heavy backpack over her shoulder and strode out of the elevator, a jaunty skip to her step. It’s been years since I aced a test – I forgot how good it feels, she thought as she made her way to the door of Dr. Lehrer’s office. She poked her head into the office and noted the absence of people in the waiting room, then walked in and smiled brightly at the receptionist. “Hi, I’m Sami Brady. I brought my son in yesterday for a checkup and booster shots, and I was wondering if his blood test results were in yet. I know it’s early, but, well-” she grimaced ruefully “-I’m a little neurotic when it comes to Will.”

“I understand,” the receptionist replied, her fingers racing over the computer keys. “Full name?”

“William Robert Reed,” Sami said, adding his social security number as she braced her elbows on the counter.

“Hmmm…here it is,” the woman concluded as a screenful of information appeared. “Yes, everything’s come back and your son is just fine.” Sami let out a small sigh of relief and the receptionist winked knowingly at her. “Would you like a copy of the records? It will only take a minute.”

“Please,” Sami murmured, flushing slightly with charming embarrassment. “I’m sure his daddy will want to see them, too.”

***

Marlena swallowed with difficulty past the aching lump in her throat. She stared at John, her face white with shock, as the silent moments ticked by. He was studying the wrinkled front of his Yankees jersey intently, unwilling to meet her eyes, utter misery etched on his handsome features.

“What did you say?” she finally managed to ask in a strangled whisper.

He didn’t raise his head. “You heard what I said, Doc,” he replied quietly.

A sudden burst of desperate indignation tinged her voice. “I want to hear you say it again, John. I want you to look me in the eye and say it again.”

He looked up at her, a defiant yet sad expression wreathing his face. “I said-” he enunciated clearly, “-that you and I are not getting married.”

The lump in her throat vanished as outrage overtook fear and anger calmed her pounding heart. “Aren’t we? You asked me, I said yes.” She held up her hand. “Got a ring and everything. So what’s the problem?”

The sarcasm in her tone raised his hackles. “You *know* what the problem is, Doc. And just because you want to pretend it isn’t there doesn’t mean that *I* am willing.”

Her eyes flashed warningly as she clenched her fists. “Maybe I don’t *have* a problem,” she retorted. “Maybe *you’re* the one with the problem!” The doctors and nurses at University Hospital had learned long ago to flee from that particularly thunderous facial expression, but John, with years of hard-won experience behind him, remained – relatively – undaunted.

He bit back a searing retort as he discerned the alarm conveyed by her tense shoulders. He took a deep breath and met her gaze. “I’m scared, too, Doc,” he said simply.

His frank admission knocked the wind from her sails. “I’m not scared,” she protested in a small voice, lowering her eyes to stare at the floor. She blinked back sudden tears. “I’m *not*.”

He crossed the room to stand in front of her, reaching out to lightly touch her arm with his fingers. “Do you think that what we have is

somehow less important to me than it is to you?” he asked plaintively. “Don’t you understand how much I need you? That the mere *thought* of losing you is killing me?”

Marlena reached up to frame his face between her palms, her grip almost painfully intense. “You *won’t* lose me!” she vowed fervently. “And I won’t lose you.” She stood on tiptoe to capture his lips in a long, searing kiss, finally tearing away to whisper in his ear in a voice tinged with desperation. “Let’s get married!” she implored, hugging him fiercely to her. “Let’s just run away and get married immediately. We don’t have to tell anyone – we’ll just grab the kids and go.”

John winced and pressed his lips to her hair, relishing the feel of her body against his for a few more precious seconds. Finally, he sighed and let her go, stepping back to meet her gaze, his own both sad and knowing. “Run away, Doc? From what? If there isn’t a problem…then why do we need to run?”

She averted her eyes and bit her lower lip, crossing her arms over her chest and hunching her shoulders protectively. “That isn’t what I meant,” she muttered in a defensive tone.

“I know, Doc,” he replied gently. “I understand what you’re doing. I *recognize* what you’re doing, and there’s a really big part of me that *would* like to run away with you, and pretend that everything is the same as it was before Roman showed up on our doorstep. But we *can’t*, Doc.”

“Why *not*?” she returned desperately.

“Because it’s not the same, and we can’t pretend it is! *You* can’t pretend it is. You have to face reality, Marlena.”

“I’m not pretending anything,” she protested heatedly. “And I *am* facing reality. I know *you* are John Black and *he* is Roman Brady. I know that I love you and you love me, that we never stopped loving each other through all the years we were apart. I know that I

committed adultery and had an illegitimate child and hurt my family more than I ever could have imagined.” She stepped forward and pinned him with a direct gaze. “*And* I know that Roman and I are divorced, that he is my *ex*-husband, and that he wanted it that way.” She inhaled deeply, wrenching herself under control, then continued in a more reasonable tone, “But what I *don’t* know is why any of that *reality* means you and I can’t get married. Explain it to me, please.”

“All right,” he agreed quietly, gazing down at her. “I suppose it has to do with a look in your eyes – a look that comes over you every time you’re anywhere near Roman. And it has to do with the fact that you can’t stand to be in a room with him for more than five minutes, that you can’t have a conversation with him that’s more involved than a discussion about the weather.” His gaze took on a faraway cast as it wandered somewhere over her shoulder. “I’ve seen all of it before, Doc. I’ve seen that pain and that confusion. And I made myself a promise a long, long time ago that I would never put you through pain like that again, if there were any way in the world that I could stop it.”

She studied him silently for a moment, her brow furrowed. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about. What do you mean, you’ve seen it before?”

His eyes met hers, painful honesty shining from their shadowed depths. “When Roman came back, Doc,” he said simply. “When Roman came back and we began to pretend that our marriage, our *love*…that all of those things were suddenly somehow left behind in the past. And during that year and a half or so before our affair we would meet at family occasions and parties, and we’d make polite small talk about our work or the weather or world news that week…and then one of us would make a lame excuse to cut the conversation short, and we’d walk away from one another. Because it was easier that way…because it was easier to pretend that it didn’t hurt so much.” He paused and took a deep breath, before plunging forward, “Until we could no longer pretend.”

She considered that silently for a moment, before finally looking up

and raising a supercilious eyebrow. “Let me get this straight,” she murmured drily. “Are you saying that you think I love Roman and am just *pretending* that I don’t? That if you and I got married today I would find myself having an affair with *him* in a year or so? Because that’s what *she* did?” Her tone dripped contempt.

“Don’t talk about her like that!” he snapped, before rubbing his forehead wearily at the absurdity of their statements. “Don’t you see, Doc? You’re doing the exact same thing now that you did the last time
– Insisting that everything is fine when it isn’t. Ignoring your feelings because they don’t fall into neat, organized categories – because they’re messy, confusing, and painful. Pretending that your heart belongs completely to one man…and one man only.” His voice fell almost to a whisper. “When it isn’t true…”

“Don’t tell me what’s in my heart,” she retorted angrily. “Don’t tell me what I think or how I feel. *Nobody* decides that but me. *Nobody!*”

“It isn’t about making a decision, Marlena,” John countered. “You don’t *decide* who you love, or *decide* not to love them anymore, based on what you believe is best for everyone. God knows, if that were true, all of our history would have been considerably less painful.” He reached over to grip her hands between his, his voice trembling with sincerity and purpose. “You have loved Roman Brady since the day he dropped that pathetic excuse for a sleeping bag on your living room floor. He wormed his way into your heart the first time he called you ‘Legs’…and he’s never really left it. I know you *know* about the divorce, but that’s not the same as living through it. That’s not the same as feeling the feelings that go along with it, or having the memories of every painful moment. The last time you saw him you still loved him more than anyone in the world. And even though your head may tell you that it ended, you don’t have the feelings to match the knowledge. You can’t.” He exhaled, his shoulders slumping, as he continued inexorably, “Because you don’t *remember*.”

“Are you saying I have to remember everything about the last ten years before we can be together?” she whispered disbelievingly. “I

can’t believe you mean that. What if it never happens? What then? Are we stuck in some kind of limbo for the rest of our lives?” She shook her head. “I can’t believe we’re even discussing this. It’s a moot point, anyway. Roman doesn’t even want me back, John!”

John let out a harsh bark of ironic laughter. “Of course, he does. How could he not?” His expression was pained. “Remember, I used to *be* him, and I know how he feels about you. I know he could never love anyone else the way he loves you.” He reached out to briefly caress her cheek, and she closed her eyes, savoring the fleeting contact. “But it’s not about Roman’s feelings, anyway,” he whispered. “It’s about you. It’s about how you feel, about how you *will* feel someday in the future, when the idea of facing him becomes less frightening, and you allow yourself to experience…whatever you have to. Don’t you see, Doc?” he murmured plaintively. “I couldn’t bear it if we got married and then someday I saw a look in your eyes that said ‘what if?’ ‘What if I’d given it a chance?’ ‘What if I’d tried to make it work?'” He took a deep breath, managing a miserable smile. “Do I think you’d ever have another affair? No, I don’t. I believe the lesson we learned the last time is so painfully engraved upon our souls that a little amnesia couldn’t possibly erase it. But I couldn’t bear it if we got married, and then someday later you found yourself wondering what would have happened if you’d had the chance to explore the feelings you have for Roman and wishing you’d taken the time to find out. It would kill me to see that, Doc.”

“So you’re generously offering me the opportunity now, is that it?” she returned sarcastically. “Why, thank you, John. Thank you for telling me what to think and what to feel. I don’t know how I managed to get through my life before I met you and you took over the responsibility of explaining me to myself.”

He winced at her bitter tone. “Don’t, Doc. You know that isn’t what I’m saying. But we’ve been through this before, and I *remember* how incredibly awful it was, and I refuse to make the same mistakes twice.”

“No, you just want to make all *new* ones,” she retorted. “Just exactly

what are you saying, John? That the wedding is on hold until you say differently? That you want the ring back? That you-” she swallowed with difficulty “-that you want to walk away from us for good?”

“*God*, no!” he replied feelingly, dragging her into his arms for a fierce embrace and burying his face in her fragrant hair. “I *love* you, Doc,” he vowed, his voice muffled. “I *want* to marry you, to spend the rest of my life with you…but I have to be sure that’s what *you* want…and so do you.”

She buried her face in his shirt, the rough cotton of the jersey material smelling comfortingly of wind, lemon, and something undefinable that merely whispered “John”. “I *am* sure,” she muttered, her arms tightening around his chest. “I’m more sure of us than anything else in my *life*.”

Reluctantly he pulled away and looked down at her, rueful, pained laughter lighting his eyes. “Is that really saying all that much?”

Her lip twitched involuntarily at his sardonic tone, but she felt too miserable to smile. “I need you,” she admitted softly.

“I need you, too,” he replied just as quietly. He cupped her cheek briefly with his palm, before stepping back and allowing his hand to fall away. “I’ll only be a phone call away.”

She shivered and folded her arms across her chest, valiantly fighting back tears. “Where will you go?” she asked hollowly.

He shrugged and averted his gaze. “I don’t know…I already promised Mike that he could lease the loft as soon as I moved the stuff over to the new house. I suppose that I could just stay there, though.”

Her brow furrowed. “None of the bedroom furniture has been delivered yet – they haven’t even finished painting and installing the carpets, John.”

He shrugged again. “But the office is done, since we wanted to leave it pretty much the way it was, and we already moved the desks and couch in. I’ll be okay. I can sleep anywhere, you know that.”

Marlena brushed back a lone wayward tear and squared her shoulders. “What about the children?” she asked, her voice hitching slightly on the final word.

He swallowed uneasily at the thought of their probable reaction to his leaving. “Chelsea was supposed to meet us at the Pub later, right?” She nodded. “Well, I’ll pick them up and explain to them that I’ll be moving to the new house to get it ready, and they’ll be staying with you and Roman and Sami for awhile.”

She nodded reluctantly. “And if they ask you if you and I are still getting married?” Her voice was steady.

He met her gaze head-on. “I’ll tell them yes. I don’t want to upset them if it turns out to be unnecessary.” She let out an almost inaudible sigh of relief. “Because I want it to be true,” he added in a longing whisper, lowering his eyes. “Don’t ever doubt that, Doc. Don’t ever doubt that I love you more than anything on earth, that I want to marry you more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Please don’t ever doubt that.”

Marlena compressed her trembling lips to keep from crying. “I’ll try,” she managed to say in a strangled voice, her downcast gaze riveted on the carpet. “I’ll try.”

For a few long moments John stared silently at Marlena as she stared mutely at the floor. “I guess I’d better get this uniform back to the wardrobe department before they come hunt me down,” he offered finally, gesturing at his Yankees jersey. She nodded jerkily, still refusing to look up at him.

John sighed heavily as he made his way to the door, walking past her frozen figure. He paused in the doorway to look back at her, wincing

slightly at the sight of her rigid shoulders. In two strides he’d returned to stand in front of her, mere inches away, as he waited for her to look up and meet his gaze.

Finally she clenched her jaw and raised her face to him, her eyes diamond-bright with tears but her pale cheeks clear of moisture. “Yes?” she asked, in a voice that was faint but steady.

He leaned down to touch his lips to hers, lightly, gently, and with infinite tenderness. She returned the kiss in the same manner, managing with considerable effort to refrain from reaching for him to draw him closer. The meeting of lips was just a brief touch that could have been either a promise for the future…or a goodbye.

He left quickly after that, and Marlena collapsed into a chair, the will to keep to her feet despite the pain dissolving in his absence. The tears she’d held so valiantly in check streamed down her cheeks and she buried her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she cried.

***

John pushed open the door to the Brady Pub, his usually sparkling eyes dull with fatigue, his step slow and dragging. He’d arrived a bit early to pick up the children, but he hadn’t been accomplishing anything at the office anyway. “‘Scuse me,” he muttered distractedly as he bumped into someone leaving the restaurant.

“John?”

He shook his head and blinked blearily as the face of the woman whose arm he’d jarred swam into focus. “Kristen? What are you doing here?”

“Lunch!” she replied, smiling brightly. The exhausted, pained expression on his face cheered her immeasurably, but she hid her sense of triumph well. “Are you all right, John?” she asked, a note of concern in her voice as she rubbed her hand over her pregnancy

pillow.

“Fine,” he muttered, averting his gaze from her stomach. “Look, Kristen, I’m just here to pick up the kids. I really can’t talk right now.”

“Okay,” she said, hiding her annoyance at his dismissive tone. “That’s fine. But I do need to talk to you soon…it’s about the baby.” He rubbed his forehead wearily and nodded, resigned. “Can I call you at home tonight to set up a meeting?” she prodded.

“Sure, fine,” he sighed. “Oh, no, wait, you have to call me on my celphone.”

“Why?” she asked, widening her eyes guilelessly.

“I’m, uh…I’m going to be staying at the new house for a while, and the phones aren’t hooked up yet.”

“Staying at the new house?” she repeated. “But I thought it wasn’t finished yet.”

“It isn’t,” he confirmed shortly. “I’m going to bunk out on the couch in the office.”

“Really? Why?”

He bit back an impatient, angry retort, even though he wanted to scream It’s none of your business! and leave her standing in the aisle. “Marlena has a lot of stuff to work out with Roman,” he muttered, “And I want to give her the space she needs in which to do it.”

YES! Kristen thought exultantly. “That must be so hard for you,” she managed, a sympathetic smile on her face. She laid a comforting hand on his arm.

He flinched and pulled away from her. “It was my idea. I want her to do what she needs to do to put the past completely behind her, the

way she never had a chance to do before.”

Kristen’s fist clenched as she strove to hid her anger at his reaction to her touch. “What if she *can’t* put it behind her?” she asked in a strangled tone. “What if she decides she wants to stay with Roman?” Inwardly she flinched at the sound of her own bald statement, wishing she’d probed more cautiously, but his distant attitude and clipped tone had thrown her off balance. She’d expected him…*needed* him…to want her friendship and comfort.

“Then that’s the way it is,” he replied tonelessly, his hard and unforgiving expression revealing that the thought had already occurred to him. His impatient gaze caught on the engagement ring she still wore on her left ringfinger, and something inside him snapped. “It doesn’t have anything to do with you, Kristen, so stop prying. And why the hell don’t you just take that damn ring *off*?” Without waiting for an answer he turned his back to her and headed toward the bar, leaving her standing alone in the middle of the floor, her mouth agape.

That’s not how it was supposed to happen! something inside her cried as she struggled to keep her humiliation from showing on her face. A quick scan of the room revealed several friends attempting to pretend they’d missed her little encounter with John. He’s supposed to come back to me! He’s supposed to want *me* again! But he hadn’t even glanced back, hadn’t cared how much his harsh words hurt her…he’d already dismissed her presence from his mind entirely, it appeared. Turning, she fled through the door, one hand pressed to her mouth to hold back the tears.

“Problems, son?” Shawn asked as he placed a mug of beer on the bar in front of the younger man.

John ran a weary hand through his hair and sighed. “I just can’t deal with her today. She seems to have a problem accepting that things are over between us, and I wasn’t in the mood to feed her delusion. I’ve made myself as clear as it’s possible to be on the subject, but

she’s still wearing the *engagement* ring, for God’s sake!”

“Maybe she wears it so she won’t feel awkward about being pregnant and alone,” Shawn offered, a note of warning in his voice.

“Maybe,” John muttered, shrugging dismissively. He was not remotely interested in talking about Kristen DiMera. “It’s just been a hell of a day, you know?”

“What else happened?” Shawn asked as he swiped at the gleaming countertop with a damp rag.

John stared into the amber depths of the cold, foam-topped glass. “I told Marlena we couldn’t get married,” he admitted softly, misery written all over his face. “I told her she had to deal with Roman being back before we could even think of it.”

The rag paused mid-swipe. “An’ what did she say?”

John laughed mirthlessly. “What could she say? I didn’t give her much of a choice, Pop, though I guess she could have tossed me out of her life on the spot if she’d been angry enough. Not that she wasn’t mad, mind you. I know it’s not fair of me to tell her how to run her life, but I can’t *bear* for history to repeat itself. She has *got* to deal with this.”

“Deal with it and then return to you, is that what you’re sayin’?”

Something in Shawn’s tone made John look up from his beer. The older man watched him silently, his expression noncommittal, but John had been a Brady for years and had therefore become skilled at reading the subtlest nuances. “You think she won’t?”

Shawn lowered his eyes to the counter. “I’m thinkin’ it’s a possibility, John. One you might should consider. She and Roman had a life together, a good one for the most part. Askin’ her to remember all that…well, you should be prepared for what might happen, is all I’m sayin’.” He still didn’t meet John’s gaze.

“That’s what you want, isn’t it?” John whispered, stunned by the sudden realization. “You want Roman and Marlena to reconcile.”

“It ain’t about what I want,” Shawn replied, returning to his full attention to the diligent scrubbing of the already spotlessly-clean polished wood. “It’s about what’s right, what God’s law says.” He finally looked up at John, lines of regret framing his mouth, but his tone was righteous and strident. “Roman and Marlena pledged themselves to one another until death did they part, and they’re both still alive an’ kickin’. Accordin’ to the Church, that means they’re still man and wife.”

“Roman *divorced her,” John returned in a hollow whisper. “He *left* her.”

“Aye,” Shawn admitted, “and it was a mistake he’s admittin’ to now. He never should have left, but he was terrible hurt by what you and Marlena did, and he needed time to heal. And now he’s back.”

John’s shock slowly faded into burgeoning anger. “And to hell with anything that’s happened in the three years between, huh? To hell with the fact that he left her alone to deal with Sami, Stefano, and *Satan*? To hell with the fact that he didn’t bother to come back when he found out Sami was raped, or when Carrie tried to get married, or when we though Doc was dead? I’m sorry, *Shawn*,” he concluded bitterly, the significance of his use of Shawn’s first name lost on neither man, “But I’m afraid I don’t see it that way. And Doc doesn’t either.”

“I said it isn’t about what *I* see,” Shawn replied reasonably, hiding the hurt that resulted from John’s jibe. “It’s about what’s true in the eyes of God. I know how important that is to you, John.”

“Don’t!” John growled angrily, shoving away from the bar. “Don’t use the past Stefano *stole* from me as a weapon against me, Shawn. And don’t use my faith as a weapon against my love for Marlena. If it didn’t work for the devil himself, it sure as hell won’t work for you.” His

hands gripped the brass railing so tightly his knuckles gleamed white as he leaned forward again, speaking directly into Shawn’s startled face. “*If*, when everything is said and done, Marlena still wants to marry me and raise our children together, then that’s exactly what we’ll do. If the Catholic Church won’t have us, we’ll try Protestant, Buddhist, a justice of the peace, or the Sacred Church of Elvis Worshippers, if that’s what it takes. If I’m who she wants, then I’m who she’ll have. No matter what you – or anyone else – has to say about it.”

“And what if she decides she wants Roman?” Shawn returned quietly.

John scowled and backed away. “Well, then I suppose the perfect little Brady family will have everything it ever wanted,” he retorted angrily. “Don’t worry, Shawn. If Marlena wants me out of her life, then I’ll go – but she’s the only one who has the right to ask it of me. And she’s the only one I’ll listen to!”

Shawn opened his mouth to reply, but was interrupted by twin cries of “Daddy!” from over by the front door. With effort, John wiped the frown from his features and turned to greet his children, kneeling down to scoop them up into his arms as they hurtled themselves against his chest. “Did you two have a good time with Chelsea?”

Belle’s head bobbed up and down as she twined her arms about his neck. Brady nodded. “Uh-huh. We got choc’late ice cream ’cause we did such a good job takin’ pictures. An’ then we went to the zoo to see the abino alligator.”

“Albino,” John automatically corrected, hugging them both. “Sounds like you guys had a lot of fun.” He glanced up at Chelsea. “Thanks for everything, Chelsea. Marlena will be at the house when you come by tomorrow. Nine o’clock still all right?”

“Of course, Mr. Black,” she answered, smiling as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “I’ll see you then.” She didn’t notice his slight wince as his mind reflexively replied, No, you won’t.

He didn’t look back at Shawn as he instructed his children to say goodbye, Belle’s soft “Bye” drowned out by Brady’s enthusiastic, “Bye, Chelsea!” The little boy looked up at his father. “We goin’ home now?”

John swallowed to clear the aching lump from his throat and nodded. “Yup, let’s go.” He started for the door. Brady squirmed against his chest to wave and call, “Bye, Grandpa,” over his shoulder. John snuck a quick glance back at Shawn, who was regarding them with an expression of mingled regret and sadness. A part of him was already sorry for the harsh words he’d uttered earlier, but the rest of him could not let go of his anger. Almost – but not quite – his son. It’s nearly worse than nothing at all. Without another word John and his children departed the Pub.

***

Roman lay back on the couch, idly perusing the Police Procedures Manual Abe had laughingly handed him earlier, accompanied by the mocking suggestion that he might actually want to *study* the thing “this time around”. He wasn’t really reading it, but rather waiting with tense anticipation for John or Marlena to walk through the door, uncomfortably convinced that they’d all gone past the point of polite, meaningless conversation. Something has *got* to happen soon. We can’t *live* like this.

The sound of the door opening broke through his reverie, but as he turned his head he was disappointed to find it was only Sami. She was carrying a backpack in one hand and a sheaf of computer paper in the other, her downcast face obscured by a curtain of golden hair. Without pausing, she headed for the stairs.

“Sami?” he asked.

Startled, she turned to look at him, and he noted the still- wet tears streaking her cheeks. “What?” she snapped, flinging her hair back

over her shoulder.

“Is something wrong? Where’s Will?”

A sneer curled her lip, its effect spoiled by the anguish glittering in her eyes. “As if you care. He’s at Kate’s, playing with Philip.”

“Of course, I care, Sami,” Roman retorted, annoyed by her accusation, which hit too uncomfortably close to home. “Look, I’ve been wanting to apologize for what happened in your mom’s office.”

She studied him silently for a moment. “Apologize for my overhearing it, you mean,” she finally said coldly. “But not for the way you feel. Not for the fact that you wish Will had never been born in the first place.
Not for the fact that you wish you didn’t even have a grandson, an *illegitimate* grandson to taint the precious Brady bloodlines.”

“I never said that,” he protested defensively.

“You didn’t have to,” she returned without missing a beat. “Have you forgotten how well I know you, Daddy? I’m the one who knew you would never be able to forgive Mom for the affair, that you’d take off and break up our family. I’m the one who knew that finding out Belle was not your child would make you bail at the earliest opportunity.” She held up one hand, the computer printouts crumpled between her trembling fingers. “Sorry to disappoint you, Daddy, but Will’s test results prove he’s a*Brady* right down to his blood type.” Her shoulders slumped as her angry voice trailed off into an anguished whisper. “At least he’s that…”

“What does *that* mean?” Roman asked, exasperated.

“Nothing!” Sami shot back. “I’m tired, okay? I’m going to go take a nap. Don’t bother waking me for dinner.” She turned and vanished up the steps.

He sat back on the couch, stunned, as he pondered the complex

enigma who was his youngest daughter. Try as he might, he simply could not understand the girl anymore. Lost in thought, he didn’t hear the front door open again, but a muffled curse brought him out of his reverie.

“Doc?” he murmured, surprised, as she flung her briefcase against the wall with a resounding *thunk*.

“What?” she snapped, in a voice so like Sami’s that it startled him for a moment. When he didn’t answer immediately she shrugged dismissively and turned to head for the stairs.

“What’s wrong, Doc?” She bore no resemblance to the laughing, joking woman clad in a Yankees jersey whom he’d seen earlier that day. Her pale cheeks and thunderous scowl hinted that he might regret asking the question.

“I don’t want to talk to you!” she bit out, each carefully enunciated word having the force of a rifle shot. “I have had a *horrible* day and the *last* thing I need is to talk to you, all right?” Her tone indicated she didn’t care if it was all right with him or not. Without another word, she turned her back on him and followed her daughter up the steps.

Stunned by her outburst, he stared at the empty stairs for a moment, his mouth hanging open with shock. What had happened to the calm, exquisitely polite woman he’d been faced with ever since his return? She’d been replaced by an angry Valkyrie, hell-bent on…what?

Roman leaned back against the cushions, a slow, small smile finally appearing on his face. It’s a beginning… Chapter 59

“Hey, Grandpa,” Carrie called as she and Austin entered the Brady Pub. “How’s the chowder tonight?”

Shawn offered her an exaggerated scowl. “Award winnin’, of course! What kind of question is that?”

“Abject apologies, ‘o’ great chef,” Carrie said, grinning as she slid onto a bar stool. “May we please have two bowls of the manna from heaven? We got off late and there’s nothing in the refrigerator…not that there ever is.” His smile in response to her jest was wan, and she leaned forward, her brow furrowed in concern. “Is everything all right, Grandpa?”

He sighed and put down the glass he’d been polishing. “Not exactly. I had a bit of a run-in with John, earlier.”

“Mmm…’bout what?” Carrie asked as she scooped up a spoonful of chowder. Beside her, Austin crumbled a handful of crackers into his own bowl and offered a smile of thanks to Lisa the waitress, who’d filled their orders with her customary alacrity.

Shawn concentrated on pouring a foamless beer as he answered her question without meeting her eyes. “He told me he’s movin’ out of the house.”

Carrie nearly choked on her chowder. “What?”

Shawn nodded. “He said he’s movin’ out so that Marlena will have a chance to face the feelings that she still has for your father.”

“And you thought that was a bad idea?” Austin interjected, his confusion showing on his face.

Shawn shook his head. “No, of course not. I just pointed out that John should be considerin’ what might happen between them. That he should be prepared for Marlena decidin’ she wants to be with your Dad.”

Carrie carefully laid her spoon down on the counter. “Marlena *doesn’t* want to be with Daddy, Grandpa. She’s in love with John, and she has been for ages, way before Stefano kidnapped her the last time.”

Shawn frowned. “Aye, well, she’s not rememberin’ any of that, is she?”

Carrie bit her lip in consternation. “Just because she doesn’t remember doesn’t mean it isn’t true. Dad *divorced* her. He left town for three years! He doesn’t have a claim on her, not like the last time, when he was her husband and the *real* Roman Brady. Marlena accepted John’s proposal – she’s wearing his ring!”

“She thought Roman was dead when she agreed to marry John, though,” Austin put in equably.

Carrie shot a glare at him. “That isn’t the point, Austin. The point is, it’s wrong to think that Dad has some kind of right to be with Marlena just because he married her first.” She held up a hand to prevent Shawn’s rebuttal. “I know you think that he does, and you can say it’s about God and the Church if you want to, but I know that’s not true, or at least that’s not all of it. And I imagine John knows it, too. I can only imagine how horrible that makes him feel.”

Shawn frowned down at her. “What in blue blazes are you talkin’ about?”

She sighed. “Look, I love you, Grandpa. You’re a wonderful grandfather – tons of fun, totally fair and completely loving. Even through all the stuff Sami has pulled you’ve managed to love her just as much as the rest of us, and, frankly, that’s saying something.” She inhaled deeply and braced herself. “But you aren’t that way about *your* kids. Not really.”

Shawn’s expression held deep affront. “That’s not true, Carrie. I love every one of my kids. Each and every one.”

“I know that, Grandpa,” she replied, a bit exasperated at his obtuseness. “You love each and every one – but not each and every one the *same*. It’s really obvious to everyone who your favorites are. How do you think Aunt Kayla feels every time you call Aunt Kim your ‘Best and Brightest’? How do you think Uncle Bo feels when you say Daddy is your best friend? Why do you think Frankie and Max have

been in Africa for years with only a few Christmas cards to show for it?”

“Carrie-” Austin interrupted, laying a warning hand on hers.

She snatched her fingers away. “No, Austin! It’s time somebody said it.” She turned back to Shawn with tears in her eyes. “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I love you, and the last thing I want to do is hurt you, but I’m *tired* of everyone treating John the way they do. You *say* you love him as a son, you let him take care of the family the way you believe a son should, but when it comes right down to it, he always loses out to Dad. Not because of anything he does or doesn’t do, but because he’s not the *real* Roman Brady, because he’s not a Brady by blood at all.” She slid off of the stool and pushed away from the counter. “Well, I can’t see it that way, Grandpa. When *I* think about John…I remember the man who grilled my first date within an inch of his life…who consoled me when I blew my cheerleading tryout…who taught me how to drive in his brand-new Jeep without one whimper…” She paused momentarily to swallow past the aching lump in her throat. “I think about the way he was there for me after Sami ruined my wedding, the way he *saved* Marlena when she was possessed, the way he puts everyone else’s welfare ahead of his own, considers *everyone* else’s needs and desires before his own…and when I think of all that, it makes me *so* angry at you!”

“Carrie!” Austin interjected again, louder this time, with a restraining hand on her arm. Shawn just watched her, slackjawed with mute astonishment.

She flung Austin’s hand away. “I said, *NO*! What part of that didn’t you understand, Austin?” Her glare was venomous as she turned back to her grandfather. “C’mon, Grandpa, at least be honest with *yourself*. If wanting Dad with Marlena was all about the laws of the Church, then you should really be trying to lure my Mom back from Europe, because Dad married her *way* before he married Marlena, remember?” Shawn flinched slightly, and she allowed a miserably triumphant smile to reach her lips. “Got ya there, didn’t I? This is really

about your first-born son getting whatever it is he wants – the chip off the old block and the prodigal son come home and all that garbage. Well, I can’t agree with that. I think Dad made his bed when he ran out of Salem three years ago, and now he’s got to lie in it. And I think John and Marlena have gone through hell to be together, and they deserve every bit of happiness that they can possibly grab for themselves.”

“And what about loyalty to your father?” Shawn managed through gritted teeth. Never in his life had one of his grandchildren lectured him this way, and his discomfort was heightened by his inability to marshal an effective argument in response.

“John’s my father, too, can’t you understand that?” she returned quietly, her ire ebbing as quickly as it had come upon her. “Can’t you see? It’s something I learned from Marlena when I first came to Salem, when she took me into her arms and into her heart and loved me as if I were her own. *Blood* doesn’t make a family. She’s my mother as much as Mom ever was, and John’s my father as much as Daddy is. I can’t *be* on Dad’s side just because he’s my biological father. I have to look at the situation and the feelings of everyone involved…and in the end, I have to be for John and Marlena.” She stopped abruptly as soon as the words had flown from her lips, stunned by the utterance of a conclusion to which she hadn’t even realized she’d come. Her earlier confusion had dissipated somehow during her conversation with her grandfather. They *do* belong together.

“Aye, well,” Shawn muttered stiffly, “As John pointed out to me earlier this mornin’, it’s not anybody’s else’s opinion that matters in this situation. It’s Marlena’s. And I think that you’d be countin’ your chickens just as much as John if you assume that old feelings won’t be comin’ up between her and your father when they’re alone in the house they bought to live in together.”

Carrie folded her arms over her chest. “If John believed there was nothing unresolved between Marlena and Dad, he never would have decided to move out,” she conceded. “That doesn’t mean that they’ll

be getting back together, though. I think *that’s* counting your chickens. John probably just wants for Marlena to have a chance to come to terms with the divorce and all the bad things that happened. I think it’s really generous of him, actually.” Her gaze fell on the bowl of cooling chowder on the bar and she grimaced. This is pointless. “I’m really not hungry anymore,” she muttered, glancing at Austin. “I think maybe we should just go.”

It took Austin a moment to get the hint. “Um, could we get this to go, Shawn?”

Shawn wrenched his gaze from his granddaughter and nodded shortly at Austin, his face a mask of wounded dignity. “Aye. Let me get a box.” He turned and disappeared into the kitchen behind the bar.

Austin looked up at Carrie. “Don’t you think you were a bit hard on him, Carrie? Of *course* he wants Roman to be with Marlena. It’s only natural. Roman is his *son*.”

Carrie sighed and rubbed her forehead tiredly. “You just don’t get it, do you, Austin? I *understand* why Grandpa feels the way he does – it’s just the way he is, the way he’s always been, and it’s probably too late for him to change. But I do object to him acting like his opinion is the only right one, and claiming that *God* is on Dad’s side. I remember how much he hurt Aunt Kayla when this happened with Aunt Kim over Uncle Shane, and now Aunt Kayla *never* comes back to Salem – she just always makes excuses about why she can’t leave L.A. I don’t want John to leave us, *ever*. And I also object to Grandpa saying he loves John like a son and then treating him like a third cousin twice-removed. It’s not right, and it’s not fair.” Austin just looked at her blankly, and she sighed again. “Never mind. Let’s just get the chowder and go, all right?”

She turned away, lost in thought, before he even nodded.

***

“Have you got it, Slugger? No, don’t turn it so hard – make sure the

key is in all the way.” John leaned down to peer at the front door lock, which was recalcitrant under Brady’s inexperienced hands. Belle snuggled comfortably against his shoulder as he hefted the briefcase in his other hand.

“Got it!” Brady called triumphantly as the door swung open. They trooped inside and found themselves face to face with Roman, who was sitting on the couch, reading a book.

He looked up at them and smiled. “Hello. I was wondering when you kids would be getting home.”

Brady tossed his backpack under the coat rack and launched himself at the couch. “We went to the zoo!” he informed Roman happily, bouncing up and down on the cushion.

“Off the couch with your shoes, son,” John ordered. “And what does Mommy say your supposed to do with your backpack?”

His little brow puckered. “Ummm…put it in my room?”

“Yup. Why don’t you go and do that, and tell your mom that we’re home? She and I need to talk to you and your sister.”

Brady darted a suspicious glance toward Belle, who smiled shyly and buried her face in John’s shoulder. Roman watched her twine her arms around her father’s neck with a blank expression. “*I* didn’t do nothin’!” Brady insisted vehemently.

John chuckled. “Didn’t do *anything*, Brady, and, no, you didn’t. You’re a wonderful son, and I’m sorry if we don’t tell you that often enough. Mommy and I just need to talk to you. Would you go get her for me, please?”

“Okay,” Brady agreed. He hopped down off the couch and streaked toward the stairs, snatching up the backpack as he went. He took the steps two at a time.

“He has a lot of energy,” Roman finally commented into the ensuing silence.

“Always has.” John pulled his gaze from the stairway and nodded at Roman. “My little tornado, I call him,” he added in a contemplative voice as he gazed down at his daughter. She looked up at him with impossibly blue eyes and he smiled. “And you’re my little hurricane, aren’t you, baby?” She giggled, and Roman’s heart turned over at the happy sound.

“Marlena seemed a little upset when she got home,” he offered, watching John closely for his reaction. He was rewarded by a slight grimace.

“Yeah…are you saying she didn’t mention anything about why?”

It was Roman’s turn to grimace at the recollection of her furious outburst. “She, uh, wasn’t really in the mood to talk.”

John sat down in the overstuffed end chair and settled Belle against his chest. “I can imagine.”

Roman raised a curious eyebrow. “Something wrong? She seemed happy enough at the photo shoot earlier today…” John compressed his lips, not meeting Roman’s gaze nor answering his question. “I guess it went well, then?” Roman continued after a moment, trying to gauge the other man’s strange mood. “Carrie told me about the issue of Bella honoring Isabella.”

John gazed down at Belle and gently stroked her silky hair. “Yeah,” he agreed softly. “It should be a really nice tribute.” A brief silence fell, only to be broken by Marlena’s arrival.

“John,” Marlena murmured in a neutral tone. She allowed Brady to lead her by the hand to the couch, where she sat down without looking at Roman. Brady climbed up into her lap. “Brady says you said we

needed to talk to him and Belle. I take it that you haven’t told them yet.”

John caressed Belle’s cheek with his hand, his gaze downcast. “No.” He grimaced at the memory of his altercation with Shawn. “Shawn and I had a bit of a disagreement at the Pub, and I thought it would be better to bring them home and tell them here.”

Roman’s brow furrowed. “You had a fight with Pop?” he asked, just as Marlena murmured warily, “You called him Shawn instead of Pop. Why?”

Roman glanced sharply at her. John chose not to address either question. Instead, he raised his gaze from Belle to Roman and asked peremptorily, “Would you excuse us for a moment? Doc and I need to speak to the kids alone.”

Roman’s cheeks reddened as he stood up abruptly – affronted, but trying not to let it show. “Of course,” he replied in a clipped tone as he turned on his heel and disappeared into the kitchen.

Marlena watched him go. “Tactful, as ever,” she murmured ironically under her breath.

“Sorry,” John muttered. “I just don’t see how him being here would make this any easier.”

Marlena clenched her fists in her lap. “I don’t think *anything* would make this easier,” she said plaintively, looking up to meet his eyes. “Do you still…are you still convinced that this is what you have to do?”

The tenuous note of hope in her voice stabbed at his heart. “I am,” he affirmed quietly. Her face fell. “Doc…”

She cut him off. “I’ve heard all the reasons, okay? Let’s just get it over with.” The children looked up at her, startled by her sharp tone.

Brady twisted on her lap. “Are you mad at Daddy, Momma?”

She took a deep breath and managed a wan smile for her son. “Not ‘mad’, Brady…Momma just had a really long day and she’s not in a very good mood. But I’ll try to do better, okay?”

“‘Kay.” He turned to regard his father expectantly.

John cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. He picked Belle up off of his lap and leaned forward to deposit her on the couch next to Marlena. “There you go, sweetheart. I need you and your brother to listen to me carefully for a minute, all right?” They nodded in unison, and he inhaled deeply. “Okay. Now you know that we’re supposed to move into the new house pretty soon, right?” They nodded again. “And you know that before we can all do that, it needs to be painted and it needs carpet and furniture and all that good stuff, right?” Another nod. “Well, Daddy needs to go and make sure all of that gets done. And to do that, I’m going to stay there to help, kind of like a campout, you see? I want to make sure that they don’t paint *your*” – he pointed at Brady – “room pink instead of Belle’s or put the racecar bed in*your* room.” He smiled at Belle. “I’m going to make sure that absolutely everything is perfect.”

Brady frowned, puzzled. “Aren’t we goin’, too?”

John leaned forward to pat his son on the knee. “Well, see, Slugger, that’s the problem. Because there isn’t any furniture in the house, except for the desks and the couch in the office, there’s no place for you and Belle and your Momma to sleep. So I’m going to go over there and bunk out on the sofa, and you and your sister and your mom are going to stay here. And when everything is finished, you can come move in, too.” He couldn’t bring himself to meet Marlena’s searching gaze, so he concentrated on smiling reassuringly at his children. “So, do you guys have any questions?”

Belle regarded him with wide, troubled eyes. “Wanna go with you,” she insisted in a low voice, her narrow shoulders hunching

defensively.

He reached over to pull her into a bear hug. “I know, honey, but it’s not possible right now. But I will see you *every* single day, I promise. And you and Brady can call me every night – I’ll show you how to dial the phone all by yourselves and everything, okay?” She wrapped her arms around his neck and nodded miserably into his chest.

Brady watched them silently, his expression dubious. “How long is it gonna be ‘fore we can come, too?” he finally asked.

“I don’t know, son,” John replied solemnly. “Not too long, I hope. As soon as we know, we’ll tell you, I promise.” Brady bit his lip uncertainly and didn’t reply. “Well,” John concluded with false heartiness, “I’d better get upstairs and pack! How about you two munchkins giving me a hand, whaddya say?” Brady nodded slowly and slid off the couch as John set Belle down on the floor. “You two go on up to our room and I’ll be there in a minute.”

Marlena and John watched as they trudged up the stairs, the slow progress of their dejected figures a sharp contrast to Brady’s earlier exuberant dash. “You just made a *lot* of promises, John,” Marlena murmured warningly.

He turned to look at her, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I hope I can keep them,” he replied simply. “I hope that more than anything in the world.”

She regarded him silently for a moment. “I hope so, too, John. Because if you can’t, I don’t know if our children will ever trust you again. This is a very dangerous game you’re playing.”

He shook his head. “It’s not a game, Doc. You know that.” He glanced toward the stairs. “I guess I’d better go on up.”

“I guess you’d better.” He stared at her for another silent minute, before he turned and ascended the steps. Marlena didn’t watch him go

– she sat stiffly on the couch, her unseeing gaze locked on the coffee table, her teeth clamped down on her lower lip so hard they almost

broke the skin. Iwillnotcry…Iwillnotcry…

“Doc?” Roman called, pushing the kitchen door open a few inches.

“May I come out now?” Sarcasm laced his tone.

“Sure,” Marlena answered defeatedly, closing her eyes to avoid looking at him. Why the hell not?
He came in and sat down on the opposite end of the couch, a few feet away from her. “Where are John and the kids?”

“They’re upstairs…” She swallowed with difficulty. “Packing.”

“Are the kids spending the night at Mom and Pop’s?”

Her jaw clenched. “The kids aren’t packing…John is.”

“Business trip?” he asked lightly.

“No.”

Silence. “Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to pull it out of you word by word?” He tried for a tone of jovial sarcasm but it came out sounding petulant, and he winced. Fortunately, Marlena didn’t seem to notice.

“John told the children he’s going to be staying at the new house to oversee the remodeling,” she informed him dully, opening her eyes to gaze fixedly at the coffee table.

“And the real reason is…?” Roman asked, when it became apparent that was all she was going to say. “Come on, Doc, *I’m* not five years old, and that excuse is as lame as it gets.”

Abruptly she turned toward him and pinned him with a glare. “Just exactly what did you say to John in my office yesterday?”

He raised an eyebrow, startled by the jump in topics. “What does that have to do with anything?”

Her gaze narrowed. “I had assumed your argument was about the family and your respective places within it. I told Laura that’s what it had to be, but she wasn’t so sure, and now I’m not either. What did you say to him, Roman?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Well…nothing, really. I asked him about your amnesia, and everything that happened after you woke up in the hospital. It did upset him, but I really have no idea why.”

A muscle twitched in her jaw. “Oh, you don’t, do you? You didn’t happen to accuse him of taking advantage of my ‘weakened condition’ or something else along those lines?” Her voice positively dripped sarcasm.

“I…ah, don’t think I put it exactly like that, no.”

“But you did accuse him manipulating me, didn’t you? That’s why he was going on and on today about not letting history repeat itself, right? My God, Roman, you had no right to do that!”

“I had every right,” he retorted angrily. “*I’m* the one who had to listen to the both of you for *years* saying over and over that the reason you two had the affair was because you and John never had a chance for *closure*…how you *had* to sleep with him because you’d never resolved your feelings for him, and how it hadn’t been fair of me in the first place to rush you into a reconciliation like you’d never been married to him. I just pointed out to him that the pot was sounding more and more like the kettle lately, and that it was pretty damn hypocritical of him!”

“It’s not the same situation and you know it! Last time we didn’t know who he was and I was married to both of you!” The bizarre nature of that statement made her shake her head tiredly. “I don’t understand

why you’re doing this, Roman. What possible difference could my plans with John make to you? You made it pretty damn clear yesterday that you haven’t forgiven me for the affair so why do you even *care* whom I marry?”

He opened his mouth, then snapped it shut again, averting his gaze guiltily.

“No…” Marlena whispered, stunned by the obvious answer written all over his face. “No, it can’t be…*Look* at me, Roman,” she commanded. He dragged his eyes to hers. “John said you wanted me back, but I didn’t believe him. I said he couldn’t possibly be right about that…could he?”

Roman’s face flushed. “You find me that incredibly repulsive now that the idea is completely incomprehensible, is that it?”

“No, of course not,” she replied automatically. “But…you *divorced* me, Roman. I can’t believe you would have done that if any part of you had still wanted to be with me. I know how important those vows were to you – I can’t believe you would have given up if there had been any shred of hope left.”

Roman shrugged, abruptly slightly ashamed of his actions when viewed in that light. “At the time, I didn’t think there was.”

“Or you were trying to punish me,” Marlena muttered darkly. He stiffened, and she pounced on the telltale action. “That’s it, isn’t it? You wanted to hurt me the way I hurt you, so you divorced me and left town, so that I would have to face our destroyed family and wallow in the guilt for a couple of years.” She chuckled bitterly. “Well, congratulations, Roman, from everything I’ve heard about my life for the past three years, you got everything you wished for and then some. Apparently, next to mine, Joan of Arc’s life was a cakewalk.” She shot up from the couch and stalked toward the window. “Unfortunately for you, I’m no longer that same woman I once was, so whereas *she* might have wept in your arms in thanks and gratitude

for your magnanimous offer of another chance, I have to say I’ll pass.” She turned to glare at him. “We’re divorced. You no longer have a claim on me. It’s finished.”

“Is it?” he asked archly, an angry flush still darkening his cheeks. “John doesn’t seem to think so.”

“Well, that’s because you knew exactly what buttons to push, isn’t it? You knew exactly what to say to make him doubt himself, and us. How could you be so needlessly cruel? This is so beneath you, Roman. What kind of man have you become?”

The bitter self-pitying anger he’d been trying to rid himself of for years chose that moment to rear its ugly head. “The kind of man who spent eight years in a hellhole of a prison cell, dreaming of the day he’d get back to his wife, only to find out she’d found a replacement for him in less than two years!” he snapped. “The kind of man who discovered his family accepted another man as him, who had to *prove* his identity to the people who should have known him better than anyone else in the world! The kind of man who learned his wife committed adultery on their *wedding* anniversary, who lost his *daughter* to a man he’d called a *brother*.” His eyes flashed and his voice rasped bitterly. “I’m so sorry if I haven’t lived up to some image of a paragon that you’ve created for me, Marlena, but I never claimed to be a saint, or even better than your average man. I loved you more than anyone on this earth and you cut my heart out!”

“Then why the hell are you here?” she cried angrily, ruthlessly quashing pangs of guilt spawned by the anguish in his eyes. “Is this just another form of punishment for hurting you? Ensuring that not only will I not have a future with you, but with anyone else, either? If I’m such a bitch, so incredibly unworthy, then why the hell did you come back here?”

“Because I *love* you, dammit!” The expression of complete and utter shock on her face broke Roman’s heart. There was a time when she would have bet the world that I’d never stop loving her. He whirled

away from her, his shoulders heaving with effort. “I didn’t mean to say that,” he admitted more calmly.

“Why not?” she asked, her voice shaky. “I don’t believe any of us will get anywhere until we start telling the truth, do you?”

He turned back to face her, his gaze penetrating and unwavering. “Why don’t you try it, then?”

Marlena closed her eyes. “I am telling the truth,” she protested miserably. “I love *John*. I want to be with *John*. I don’t want to go back and relive the past. I don’t want to keep revisiting and rehashing old pain. I just want the beautiful future he and I have planned together.”

“I’m not the one that’s keeping that from happening,” Roman reminded her insistently. “If John wanted to take you to Vegas on his jet tonight and marry you in front of an Elvis clone, there’d be nothing in the world that I could do to stop it. But he doesn’t want that, does he? He may be upstairs packing, but he’s not taking you with him.” His voice lowered, until it registered as an almost hypnotic whisper. “Why is he leaving, Marlena? Tell me why he’s leaving.”

“To give me time…” she murmured, her gaze unfocussed as she stared into the distance.

“Time to what?” His question faded into the thickening silence.

“Time to face my feelings for you,” she whispered finally. “Time to figure out how I feel about you.” Her tone of voice wended into angry petulance. “But I don’t *need* time, and I resent being told what to do. He may be able to leave me, but he can’t control me. I don’t know what he thought abandoning us here together would accomplish, and I don’t plan to find out. I’ll just take the kids and move into my Penthouse until he gets over this, the way I know he has to eventually. No matter how well you’ve managed to manipulate him, he’ll inevitably get over it in time.”

“Will he?” Roman taunted recklessly, angered by her casual dismissal of the bond between them. “Or will he see it as just another bit of evidence that you still have feelings for me? What conclusions do you suppose he’ll draw if you can’t even manage a few days alone in this house with me, huh?”

She glared at him, the bitter tang of truth tasting like acid in her throat. “I suppose it works out perfectly for you, then, doesn’t it?” she snapped. “Tell me something, Roman. Did you plan this? When you made your decision to finally come back to Salem, was splitting up the two of us your goal? Or is this just some kind of fringe benefit?”

He averted his gaze, shamed by the scorn in her tone. “I didn’t even know you and John were together,” he muttered defensively.

“Didn’t you?” she retorted. “John told me that you didn’t leave town simply because you couldn’t forgive me for the affair. He said I told him *you* told *me* you were leaving because you knew I would never be able to get him out of my heart, and you weren’t willing to settle for anything less than complete ownership of it. Well, congratulations, Roman, you were one hundred percent right about that. I *didn’t* get him out of my heart! And those letters you gave Major Dodd to deliver to us indicated you had a pretty good idea of what would happen after you left, even if you were lying about being okay with it. What changed? Why are you doing this now?” Honest confusion suffused her bitter question.

He turned to regard her squarely, all traces of anger and mockery suddenly absent from his expression. “I decided I’d had enough of self-pity, of pointless martyrdom, and of foolish pride…” he informed her quietly. “I decided it was time to stop running from all the things about the past that I can do nothing to change. I decided that staying away from the family by my own choice was the most incomprehensible decision I’d ever made, and when it got to the point that I couldn’t even explain it to *myself* anymore…well, I knew it was time to come home.” He took a deep breath. “And I decided that I was

tired of letting my pride force me into hiding my true feelings behind a mask of bravado and indifference.” He reached a hand out toward her arm, brushing lightly across her silken skin with his fingertips, an air caress of infinite gentleness. “I still love you, Doc,” he vowed softly. “All of you…the person you were when we were married…the person you were when we came back from the dead…” He swallowed with difficulty. “Even the person you were when we divorced. And, most of all…the person you are right now. I love you, Dr. Marlena Evans Craig Brady. And I’ll do anything it takes to get you back.”

She stared at him, her mouth hanging open in shock, stunned by the naked, tender honesty in his voice. For the first time since he’d returned to Salem she saw a glimpse of the man she had fallen for and married all those years ago, and that realization caused her heart to constrict painfully. Oh, Roman…

The creak of the bottom stair made both of them jump and whirl toward the back wall of the living room. John stood at the foot of the steps, his face a blank mask, his eyes pools of unspeakable anguish as he gazed at Marlena. He held up the dufflebag in his hand. “All packed,” he muttered unnecessarily, simply to fill the deafening silence.

Marlena cleared her throat, resisting the urge to ask him how much he’d overheard. Enough, obviously. “Where are the children?”
The sound of small sneakered feet on carpet answered her question as Brady and Belle eeled their way around their father’s frozen figure. Belle reached up to grab his hand while Brady gazed up at him beseechingly. “We don’t want you to go, Daddy!”

John blinked back sudden tears. “I know.” He knelt down to gather them into his arms. “I love you guys. Promise me you’ll be good for your mommy.” They nodded and sniffed miserably as he kissed them on the cheeks.

He stood up and glanced toward Marlena. “I knocked on Sami’s door, but she didn’t answer. Tell her…tell her goodbye for me, okay? Tell her to call me if she needs anything.” Out of the corner of his eye he saw Roman bridle, and he felt a small burst of satisfaction. Marlena nodded wordlessly.

He gently disentangled himself from his children’s clinging arms and walked toward the door, opening it and then turning back to face Marlena as she’d followed him to the doorway. He gazed down at her and managed a wan smile. “You have my celphone number, right? Call me if you…well, you know. Just call me.”

She nodded again, biting her lower lip to hold back her tears. His eyes were brimming, too, and the pain in their depths was more than she could bear. She reached up to caress his cheek with gentle fingers. He leaned into her touch, savoring that last bit of contact. “I love you,” she whispered softly.

John moaned low in his throat and bent down to give her a swift, passionate kiss. “I love you, too,” he vowed in a tear- muffled voice as he wrenched himself away and stumbled out the door. A sharp cry of anguish burst from her lips and she sagged against the doorframe, watching as a tear-blurred vision of him pelted down the front walk toward his car.

Long moments passed before Marlena managed to rise again on unsteady legs. She turned back toward the living room, avoiding Roman’s piercing gaze as she sought out the faces of her children. They stared up at her, lower lips trembling, unsure of what had really happened, but somehow aware that it had been utterly disastrous. She knelt down and held her arms wide, and they raced into her embrace. She closed her eyes and buried her face in their soft hair.

Roman watched, his face impassive, as she held her children while

they cried.
Chapter 60

John watched, heartsore, as Marlena ran away from him through sheets of driving rain. The flashing lights of the airplane lit her streaming golden hair as she fled across the wet tarmac. Don’t go, Doc! his heart cried as he stared out the window of the plane. Don’t leave me!

And suddenly he was standing in the hospital chapel, listening to her tell him to find someone else to love. I can’t, Doc! I can’t love anyone else… And she cried as she admitted she was glad the baby was Roman’s. But I’m not, came John’s anguished inner plea. I *want* that child to be mine.

And then he was standing on a beautiful Mexican beach, watching her walk away across the sand, with the sweet sound of her voice calling him “Roman” still echoing in his ears, knowing that it might be for the last time.

And finally he was in the thatched hut, where they’d gone after Stefano’s ‘demise’ in the cave had revealed beyond a doubt the identity of the *real* Roman Brady. “I loved you,” Marlena vowed softly, tears streaming down her face. “…*Love*…you…” she amended, sorrow suffusing her expression as their joined hands fell away.

And she left him to return to Roman.

The way she always did…

“NO!” John shouted, sitting bolt upright on the narrow couch, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. His confused gaze took in the unfamiliar room, the book-lined walls and the computer still shrouded in its dust-cover. What? Where am I?

His eyes fell on the brass nameplate on the desk that read John Black, a joint joke gift from Victor and Isabella that he’d received when he had inherited his Alamain fortune. It was a joke on Victor’s part,

anyway – a wry commentary on the fact that his former nemesis had join the ranks of nine-to-five businessmen. Isabella had probably meant it more as a reminder…or a warning. You’re John Black…no matter who you were when you were born or believed you were for seven years.

And suddenly the memories came flooding back – the reason why he’d awakened alone, later than usual and in an unfamiliar room – I’m in the new house…and Marlena’s in the old one. With him. He closed his eyes and leaned back against the cushions, suddenly unwilling to face the day.

His celphone rang.

***

Marlena rubbed her forehead tiredly as she gripped the receiver tightly with her other hand. “I don’t want to *talk* about it now, Laura,” she insisted, darting a quick glance back down the hall toward the downstairs bathroom. The faint susurration of the shower running could be heard through the closed door. “I’ll explain everything to you at the hospital, all right? My first appointment isn’t until 2:30. Is there *any* way you could squeeze me in before that?”

Laura’s puzzled voice came down the line. “You mean…as a patient?”

The sound of the water stopped. “Yes, as a patient,” Marlena confirmed hurriedly. “It’s about my amnesia, and about why John left me here with Roman. It’s suddenly become very important that I remember the years I’ve forgotten. Look, I don’t have time to explain it now. Can you see me today? Please, Laura, it’s very important.”

“All right,” Laura agreed slowly, clearly still confused. “I have a free hour at one o’clock.”

“Thanks, Laura, you’re the best. See you then.” Marlena clapped the phone down and began fastening her earring as Roman walked into

the living room, clad in jeans, boots, and an unbuttoned flannel shirt which gaped open, revealing a smooth muscled chest, criss-crossed with faint lines. Marlena gasped when she saw the scars, her earring and phone call suddenly forgotten. “My God, Roman, what happened to you?”

Roman glanced down at his chest and grimaced ruefully. “Fortunes of war, Doc,” he muttered, running a hand through his damp hair. “Don’t take the job unless you’re willing to pay the price.”

Marlena’s gaze narrowed shrewdly on his pained expression. “Or unless you don’t care if you live or die.” A muscle in his jaw twitched, revealing she’d scored a direct hit. “Oh, Roman,” she breathed softly.

“I don’t want your pity, Doc,” he growled as he buttoned the shirt. “See them for what they are – souvenirs of a really stupid choice I made. I had no business being there in that situation. Jobs like that are for men without family and kids waiting back home. I got lucky – I know it and I’m grateful for it…and I don’t really want to talk about it anymore.”

She swallowed. “Fine,” she murmured under her breath, turning to gather up her files and organize her briefcase.

Roman frowned, already regretting his unnecessarily harsh tone of voice, but the expression on her face had caught him off guard. He remembered only too well when the sight of his bare chest had raised feelings in her very far removed from pity. “Going to the hospital?”

She nodded wordlessly without turning around, and he sighed. “Look, Doc, I’m-” The ringing of the phone cut him off. Marlena reached for it, still avoiding his eyes.

“Black res-” she flinched and stopped, before inhaling deeply and beginning again. “Hello?” Her eyes darted toward Roman. “Yes, Father, I’ve been expecting to hear from someone at the Church.” Roman frowned, and she averted her gaze. “Mmm-hmm….I thought that might be it…Yes, actually, that would be fine. I’ll see you then.”

Roman raised a curious eyebrow. “Father?”

She compressed her lips as if debating what to tell him. “Father Jansen,” she said finally. “He’s one of the priests at St. Luke’s. He needs to see me.”

“Why?”

That innocent question ignited a spark of anger in her eyes. “Gee, I don’t know,” she cracked sarcastically. “Maybe your return from the dead put a crimp in my wedding plans – did you ever think of that? Or were you counting on it?”

He raised an eyebrow at her diatribe, clearly still confused. She sighed. “I had contacted Father Francis about using the church for our wedding sometime in December. He had indicated that there might be a problem getting a free date, so I asked him to call me back, but Father Jansen called instead, and said he needs to see me. It sounds like there might be a problem with more than the date.”

“Because our divorce isn’t valid in the eyes of the Church,” Roman concluded slowly, as the reason for her pique became apparent. “In the eyes of the Church we’re still married.” He managed to keep from smiling. “What if he says you and John can’t get married there? What will you do then?”

Her expression hardened, as if she’d discerned the small burst of satisfaction he’d labored to hide. “Well, I’d marry John in front of the captain of the Love Boat, if it came to that. I converted to marry you, I can un-convert to marry John. But his attachment to the Catholic Church runs a lot deeper than mine does, so I suppose it’s up to him.” She picked up the briefcase. “I promised Father Jansen I’d meet him at St. Luke’s, so I have to get going. Chelsea already picked up the kids, Will’s still asleep, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Sami.” She paused and regarded him silently for a moment. “She hasn’t heard about John moving out yet. If you see her before I do, break it to her

gently, all right? She’s liable to be a little upset.”

He gave a small snort of disbelief. “Sami?”

Her lips tightened. “Yes, Sami. She’s very fond of John, no matter what you might think. And she was just starting to become accustomed to having a family around her again. Don’t make this about her having to choose between the two of you, Roman. Don’t put her in that position. This whole situation is difficult enough as it is.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Are you saying you believe I would *deliberately* hurt my daughter, Marlena?”

She sighed at the unwelcome bitterness in his tone. “No, of course not. But I have gotten the impression that she felt she had to take sides when we were splitting up. I just don’t want her to feel she has to do that again, all right? She has enough on her plate.”

He nodded shortly as he reached for his wallet, which rested on the coffee table. “I promise I won’t put any pressure on Sami, but don’t be surprised if she doesn’t react the way you expect her to. In any case, I suppose we could tell her together when we get back tonight. Are you ready to go?” He skirted the couch and reached for their coats.

“Where are you going?” she asked suspiciously.

“With you,” he answered blithely, ignoring her dark expression. “I’d like to find out if I’m still a married man. Is that okay with you?”

She stared at him angrily for a moment, before finally relenting with a clipped, “Fine!” He held out her coat as if to help her put it on, but she snatched it from his hands as she sailed out the front door, her nose in the air. He suppressed a rueful chuckle as he followed.

***

John sat in the back pew of the church, staring up at the altar as he remembered the day he’d carried Marlena’s lifeless body into St.

Luke’s after the exorcism – the moment when she had opened her eyes on that altar had been one of the single greatest moments of his life. The possibilities had seemed endless then – Marlena was alive and they’d all been granted another chance to make life right again. How did it all go so wrong? John asked himself silently. By letting that moment slip by…was that when I truly lost my chance to have a future with her? Roman’s specter had been absent from those endless months as they’d struggled for Marlena’s life and soul. And Kristen and Satan wouldn’t have stood a chance against us…why did we waste that opportunity? Why did I go back to Kristen when I was released from my vows? But the silent altar held no answers. He leaned forward on his elbows and buried his head in his hands, sighing deeply.

“John?”

He whirled around to find himself face to face with Marlena and Roman, who regarded him curiously, clearly surprised at his presence. “John?” Marlena repeated. “What are you doing here? Did he call you, too?”

John blinked as he stood up from the pew. “Yes, of course, he did. We gave him my celphone number, remember?” He looked askance at Roman. “You wanted *him* here?” he asked finally, disbelief coloring his voice.

Marlena rolled her eyes. “He sort of invited himself along, actually. I figured he’d hear about it eventually, so why not save ourselves the trouble?”

“I have an idea,” Roman interjected jokingly, “Why don’t we talk about him like he’s not here.”

“Sorry,” John muttered shortly, not sounding as if he meant it. “Can I talk to you alone for a minute, Doc?”

“Of course,” she replied eagerly, glancing dismissively at Roman.

Anger darkened his features, but he slipped obligingly into the foyer.

John swallowed uneasily and Marlena stepped toward him, reaching out to touch his arm. He flinched and pulled away. The happiness drained from her expression; she retreated, regarding him warily. “What do you want to talk about?” she asked finally.

He ran a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m sorry…I just…I guess you told him about Aaron last night, huh?”

“What?” She frowned. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Because he’s *here*,” John replied, a bit exasperated. “Who does he think the monument is for, then?”

The color drained from her face. “What?” she whispered, reaching blindly behind her for the arm of the pew.

Without pausing to consider his action, John pulled her into his arms, alarmed past his reticence by her sudden pallor. She sagged against his chest. “The monument’s finished?” she asked in a tight voice after a moment. Her fingers gripped his shirt convulsively.

“They put it up first thing this morning,” he affirmed quietly. “Mr. Collins called me to let me know, the way we had arranged. I told him I would tell you myself, which is why I didn’t expect to see you yet. I wanted to make sure it was all right before I called you.”

Her grip eased a little, and she tilted her head back to look up at him.

“And is it?” she whispered.

He nodded, tears filling his eyes. “It’s perfect, Doc. Just like we wanted it.”

She nodded back, a tear spilling down her cheek. “I’m glad,” she managed in a choked voice.

He embraced her fiercely, burying his face in her hair. “So’m I, Doc,” he murmured.

Roman watched silently from his vantage point outside the sanctuary doors. He couldn’t see Marlena’s expression, but the pain in John’s was all too evident. What’s going on? he wondered, his countenance darkening at the sight of their close embrace. Their tableau somehow looked more intense than a discussion of arcane Church dogma warranted. But then, Doc did say this was more important to John than to her. Could he really be willing to give her up over an outdated Catholic doctrine? That didn’t sound much like the John Black that Roman knew, but then, he’d never known *Father* John Black. He shook his head ruefully. John as a priest…I’ll never be able to picture that one, not as long as I live.

Roman was startled out of his reverie by a tentative touch on his arm. He looked into the placid expression of a young, blonde, mustached priest, whose blue eyes shone so fiercely from within his face that the effect was almost startling. “Hello, Father,” he gulped.

The priest’s lips turned upward in a sweet smile. “Hello, my son.” He glanced into the sanctuary at the entwined pair, then returned his perceptive gaze to Roman’s face. “You must be Roman Brady,” he concluded, his soft voice rolling in a comfortable drawl.

“Yes,” Roman replied. “And you must be the Father Jansen I’ve heard so much about. It’s nice to meet you, Father.”

“Yes…well, we’ll see, won’t we?” the priest offered meditatively after a moment. “My office is just down that hallway, second door on the right,” he added, gesturing to the door through which he’d arrived. “Why don’t I retrieve John and Marlena and we’ll meet you there.”

Roman shot one last glance toward them, before nodding and heading for the door. Jansen watched him go, then turned toward the sanctuary. He gently cleared his throat, and Marlena reluctantly disengaged from John’s embrace. She turned toward the priest,

wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Hello, Father.”

“Hello, my child,” he said, smiling. “I must say, I was under the impression that we’d be meeting privately, but perhaps it is best if all concerned parties are present.”

John looked down at Marlena, puzzled. “Concerned parties? What’s going on, Doc?”

Marlena looked up at him. “Father Jansen called me this morning, John. I’d contacted Father Francis a few days ago regarding our wedding date, and then Laura said something to me about…well, about whether or not we’d be able to marry in the Church since Roman was alive.” She glanced at Jansen. “That *is* what this meeting concerns, isn’t it? A discussion of my marital status, or lack thereof?”

“Yes,” Jansen replied, watching as John stiffened perceptibly. “Francis and I have been in contact with several Church officials. He wanted to explain it to you himself, but he was called away this morning. In any case, we wanted to be sure of our decisions, especially considering the special place the two of you hold in our recent history.” It was Marlena’s turn to stiffen, and Jansen offered her a reassuring smile. “Your case is considered an example of the triumph of God’s love and redemption, Marlena. Everyone holds you in the greatest esteem, I assure you.” He waved a hand back toward the foyer. “Shall we join Mr. Brady and relieve your collective suspense?”

As one, they nodded.

***

Roman felt ridiculously like a schoolchild as he sat down in the far right chair of the three arrayed in front of Jansen’s ornate desk. The priest waved Marlena toward the center chair, and John took the left one, his gaze locked on the desktop. He didn’t look at Roman or Marlena.

Jansen stood behind his desk and regarded them silently for a moment. “I greatly admire the manner in which the three of you are dealing with an admittedly difficult situation,” he said finally. “And I, perhaps more than anyone else within the Church, understand how little our doctrines have to do with the decisions you find yourselves facing.” He sat down in his chair, a small, rueful smile lighting his features. “However, we must, of course, have our say.” He reached for the thick file resting on the corner of his desk. “I have researched this situation thoroughly, as have others, and all of us have come to one of two conclusions.” He looked pointedly at Marlena. “We’ve concluded that you are either Roman Brady’s wife…or John Black’s.”

His pronouncement landed with a *thud* in the silent room. The three parties involved glanced at one another with identical “that’s it?” expressions. After a moment, Marlena raised a bemused brow. “Forgive me, Father, but that doesn’t really clear up the situation much.”

His eyes twinkled. “No, I can see that. But I feel it is necessary for you to understand the two lines of reasoning we employed. But first of all – we were, you will be glad to know, able to rule out your first husband.” Marlena glanced at the ceiling and grimaced ruefully. “Your marriage ceremony to Don Craig was not performed within the Catholic tradition – thus, your marriage was not valid in the eyes of the Church.”

Marlena nodded slowly. “But my marriage to Roman *was* performed within the Church. I converted so that we could have the Catholic ceremony…among other reasons,” she added hastily as the priest frowned. “What I’m saying is, that ceremony *is* valid in the eyes of the Church, correct?”

John studied her face, trying to discern from her tone how she felt about what she had said, but her expression was neutral, and she never took her eyes off of the priest.

“There is that school of thought,” Jansen agreed. “And that conclusion would make your subsequent marriage to John invalid, because your

previous marriage had not been annulled, and Roman was still alive.”

“And he married her under an assumed name,” Roman interjected pointedly, earning him dark glares from the other two.

Jansen held up a quelling hand. “That, in fact, is not relevant. With regard to the Church, it is a question of intent, not civil legality. Whether or not his name was Roman Brady, Marlena did intend to marry *this*-” he pointed to John “-man, and that makes the ceremony authentic in the eyes of the Church. A discussion of the validity of that marriage rests on a question of Marlena’s previous marital status, not John’s identity.”

“But she was still *my* wife,” Roman concluded, a hint of triumph shading his voice. “So the marriage was invalid. And since *our* marriage was never annulled within the Church, Marlena is *still* my wife.” Marlena and John stirred restlessly in their chairs, but didn’t speak out, their glum expressions showing clearly that they expected Jansen to agree.

Which he did. “That is one line of reasoning,” he admitted. “And the argument is persuasive. But there is another argument to be made, and the evidence there is also compelling.” He opened the file. “There is the matter of your first wife.”

Roman swallowed, suddenly nervous. “Anna? What about her?”

Jansen pulled out a sheet of paper. “When you and Marlena first let your intentions to marry be known to the Church, you were under the impression that she…oh, here it is – Anna Fredericks Brady – was deceased, were you not?”

Roman nodded shortly.

“But she returned to Salem before the ceremony had taken place, and you obtained a legal divorce from her, did you not?” Jansen continued.

Roman nodded again.

“However, you did not obtain an annulment within the Church.”

It wasn’t a question, but Roman felt compelled to answer him anyway. “No, I didn’t, because that would have made my daughter illegitimate.” He frowned. “Or so I believed. But I decided it must not have been an issue, since we were allowed to marry in the Church.”

“Yes,” Jansen admitted. “That seems to have been an oversight of some sort. Apparently, the change in your status from widower to married man somehow escaped official notice. That fact leads some of our officials to argue for considering it the Church’s error, thus making it insufficient to invalidate your subsequent marriage to Marlena.” He looked up, pinning Roman with a shrewd gaze. “But some of us disagreed with that argument.”

“You mean, some members of the Church hierarchy think that my marriage to Roman was never valid in the first place?” Marlena interjected questioningly.

Jansen nodded. “Which means that you *were* free to marry John in 1986, and as the issue concerns not legal identity, but intent, then that ceremony was valid.”

“And Marlena is still my wife,” John concluded softly. Roman glanced sharply at him, but he appeared to be lost in thought. Marlena reached over to squeeze his arm, and he managed a small smile for her.

“That is correct,” Jansen confirmed, pulling out a few more pieces of paper. “This line of reasoning renders the births of the twin children of Roman and Marlena illegitimate and the birth of the daughter you and Marlena share legitimate, but invalidates your marriage to Isabella Beatrice Toscano and renders the birth of your son illegitimate.” He frowned, mentally reviewing that confusing statement for errors, then nodded in satisfaction.

John bridled, pulling his arm from Marlena’s grasp and leaning forward to glare at Jansen. “That’s not fair, Father. Isabella married me in good faith, believing I was free. We got married here in St. Luke’s, for Pete’s sake. If there was a problem with all of this, why didn’t someone mention it before now? Why haven’t you people been paying attention?”

“John,” Jansen replied in a soothing tone, “You have to admit that this situation is hardly typical. And the turnover in personnel for this particular parish has ensured that no one has been continuously present during all the events described, and information was perhaps not passed on as it should have been. In any case, it’s water under the bridge now.”

“For the *Church*, maybe,” Roman muttered darkly.

Jansen’s pellucid gaze slid to him. “Yes. That is the point, isn’t it? The appalling mess that Stefano DiMera has made of all of your lives is quite unprecedented in the history of the Church. Obviously, we haven’t a response framed to deal with this kind of turmoil. Which means, it seems, that we must set a precedent ourselves.” He closed the file folder. “And we have done so, after much debate and prolonged discussion. The Church has come to a decision about the marital status of each of you.”

Three people held their breath expectantly. The moments ticked by as Jansen shuffled the papers, until Roman finally exhaled gustily. “Come on, man,” he exploded. “Tell us!”

“In the eyes of the Church each of you are free to marry whomever you choose,” Jansen said, punctuating his statement with a small nod of satisfaction. He held up the folder. “The intricacies of our reasoning
– and our logic became quite tortured at times, believe me – are outlined in these documents. John should be able to explain them to you. But the end result is, that each of you are free to choose as you will, so long as the one you choose is free to marry also.” He smiled at them benevolently. “However, be prepared for your next ceremony to

be your last. The Church can only bend so much.” They didn’t respond to his joke, instead simply staring dumbly at him, their mouths open in triple identical expressions of shock.

The door at the back of the room opened a crack, and a middle-aged woman wearing nun’s robes gestured at Jansen. “Excuse me for a moment,” he murmured apologetically as he rose from his seat. “I must see to this.”

Marlena unfroze as he moved around the desk, a slow smile lighting her face. “Well, we’re done, aren’t we, Father? Or is there more?”

He shook his head and smiled down at her. “No, that’s it. If you have any questions, feel free to contact me.”

Marlena stood up and reached for his hand. “Thank you, Father,” she murmured with heartfelt emotion, giving his fingers a grateful squeeze. “Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome, my child.” He nodded toward John and Roman, then slipped out the door.

Marlena turned back toward them and studied their blank expressions for a moment. “Well?” she asked finally. “Don’t you two have anything to say?”

Roman spoke first, an angry flush darkening his cheeks as he got to his feet. “I don’t believe this. I don’t care what he says – there is no way they can invalidate our marriage retroactively like that!”

“They didn’t,” Marlena replied patiently. “Didn’t you understand what he said? In the eyes of various members of the Church, *both* marriages were valid for different reasons. I guess this is what Brady would call a chance for a ‘do-over’. It sounds to me like they reached an impasse and had to make a compromise.”

Roman scowled. “Well, I don’t like it.”

Marlena regarded him silently for a moment. “Why not? This way, we’re all free to make our own choices. Don’t you think it’s better if none of our decisions are based on outside obligation? Would you really want a marriage grounded in Church doctrine instead of mutual commitment?” Her tone was honestly curious, but with just a trace of baiting to it.

His cheeks reddened as he averted his gaze. “No, I suppose not,” he mumbled finally, his eyes coming to rest on John, who had yet to react at all to the news. “What’s with him?”

“John?” Marlena murmured, moving over next to his chair. “Honey, are you all right?”

“What?” John muttered, shaking his head slightly. Slowly, his eyes swam back into focus. “Oh, I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Marlena glanced over at Roman. “Would you excuse us, please? John and I have some things we need to discuss.”

“You’re my ride, remember?” Roman pointed out with some asperity. He had a sinking feeling that he knew what Marlena wanted to discuss

– she and John were free to be married, and she wanted to set a date. John’s dazed expression didn’t bode well for marshaling an argument against it, even if he were so inclined – which Roman was willing to bet he was not.

“The Pub’s all of twenty minutes from here on foot,” Marlena replied exasperatedly. “Please, Roman.”

“Fine,” he muttered, heading for the door. He needed time to assimilate this newest information, anyway. It’s not over yet. Not by a longshot.

Once the door had closed behind him, Marlena turned to regard John expectantly. “Isn’t this great news? The Church says we’re free to

marry one another.”

John lowered his eyes, his fingers gripping the arms of the chair tightly. “That was never really the issue, Marlena,” he murmured quietly.

Marlena sank slowly into her chair, her brow furrowing. “It wasn’t? I know how important the Church is to you, John. I thought you were worried about this.”

He shook his head slowly. “No. The Church *is* important to me, but if you think I’d allow them to keep me from marrying you…” his voice trailed off and he sighed deeply. “No, Doc, it wasn’t an issue. But it’s nice to hear it anyway, I suppose.”

“It doesn’t change your mind about moving out, though, does it?” she concluded bitterly, reading her answer in his set expression. “You’re still determined to leave us.” Her nervous fingers twirled the engagement ring she still wore.

He finally looked up at her. The bleakness in his blue eyes tore at her heart. “John-” she began in a softer tone, reaching for his arm.

In one swift motion John pulled away from her, rose from the chair, and stole toward the door. “No, Doc,” he maintained in a low but steady voice. “No.” He reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open, but then paused, his shoulders sagging with dread realization. He cleared his throat and asked in a muffled voice, “Do you…do you want me to go with you to see the monument?”

She swallowed past the burning tears in her throat. “No,” she replied miserably, hating both him and herself in that brief moment. “Just go, if you’re so determined to. I can do it by myself.”

He bowed his head, his back still facing her, and slowly nodded. The creak of the door hinge signalled his departure.

Marlena curled up in the chair, her teeth clamped down hard on her lower lip to prevent herself from crying out to him and calling him back to join her on her sad quest. I *can* do it by myself. I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking with despair as she recognized her lie for what it was. But maybe if I tell myself that often enough, someday it will be true… ***

The bleak November air and bare, forlorn trees perfectly complemented Marlena’s dark mood. The bitter wind whipped through her coat as she trudged through the piles of dead leaves dotting the path leading into the cemetery behind St. Luke’s. She braced herself as she turned into the aisle that held the graves of her sons. Her breath caught in her throat as she beheld the shiny marble monument that rested next to DJ’s aged, weathered tombstone. Oh, *God*!

She fell to her knees on the cold, hard ground in front of the twin graves, her eyes irresistibly drawn to the sharp etchings in the newest marble slab. Aaron Leo Black, 1997 – Beloved Son and Brother – May you find peace in heaven… She closed her eyes. Peace…I wish we *all* could find it…

A warm hand landed on her shoulder. Startled, she turned her head

and blinked up into the sun.
Chapter 61
John The moment Marlena felt the hand descend on her shoulder, her heart leapt hopefully. John! He came! But when she looked back toward its owner, it wasn’t John’s face smiling down from above her. “Don,” she murmured, unable to keep the disappointment from her tone.
“Guess I wasn’t who you expected,” Don offered with an understanding squeeze. His gaze moved from her face to the twin tombstones that stood in front of where she knelt, and his expression darkened painfully. “I just wanted…”
“Just wanted to come and see DJ,” Marlena finished, getting to her feet. “I understand. It’s all right, Don. I’m glad you’re here.”
Don stared down at the stone that marked the grave of his son. “But you wanted me to be someone else,” he murmured absently. “Who?”

She sighed. “I thought you might be John.” She gestured at the newest monument. “They delivered Aaron’s tombstone today, and I thought…maybe…” She sighed again and shrugged. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”

Don’s brow furrowed. “Is something wrong between the two of you? I thought everything was fine. You seemed very happy at the fundraiser.” She nodded miserably, averting her gaze, but didn’t reply to his question. Comprehension dawned on Don’s face. “It’s Roman, isn’t it?”
Marlena blinked rapidly, fighting back tears. “It’s Roman…it’s Aaron…it’s *John*…” Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, Don…John moved out of the house yesterday.” Her voice wavered, achingly hollow. “He *left* us there with Roman, and I feel so…incredibly alone. I try to put on a good show for the kids, but…” she raised shimmering eyes to his, “I’m afraid we’ll never be together again, Don. And that thought scares me more than anything in the world.”
Don reached out with a compassionate hand to touch her arm. “I’m
sorry, Marlena.” He opened his mouth to continue, but then paused,
suddenly hesitant.
“What?”
He shook his head slightly and shrugged. “I guess I just don’t understand, kiddo. The man is obviously crazy about you, so why did he move out? Is it…is it that there’s still something between you and Roman?”
“*He* thinks so,” she muttered darkly. “Actually, they both do. And they both refuse to listen to anything *I* have to say about it.”
He arched an eyebrow upon hearing the resentment that suffused her tone. “So John moved out because he thinks you still love Roman?” She shook her head absently, her gaze locked on Aaron’s tombstone. “No, not really,” she murmured. “He did it because he thinks I don’t know *how* I feel about Roman and he believes I’m not willing to try and figure it out. He left so I’d be forced to do so.” Her lip twisted bitterly. “I guess you could say it’s a form of emotional blackmail – if I *don’t* stay and face Roman, I don’t get to have a future with John.” She scuffed her toe against the rock walkway, her expression brooding.
“Is it really so bad?” Don asked after a moment’s silence, studying her

face. “Sounds like a temporary thing, at best. You can manage to live with him for a few weeks, can’t you? You and Roman always got along pretty well.” She shot him a sardonic glance, and he grimaced. “Okay, maybe ‘got along’ isn’t quite the way to put it. But you always seemed to come to some sort of accommodation.”

“You mean we always wanted each other so much that our differences didn’t matter in the end,” Marlena concluded ruefully. “Look, Don, I know that Roman believes I’ve forgotten the past, but I really haven’t. I *remember* how it was, and I remember how much I loved him.” She bit her lip. “That doesn’t mean I want to go back, though. That doesn’t mean I believe it’s even possible.” She looked up at him. “And it definitely doesn’t mean I’m willing to risk what John and I have *now* to go chasing after ghosts from the past.”
“Sounds like John’s not giving you much of a choice, though,” Don pointed out. “Why is that, anyway? It seems like a pretty big risk to take, especially when you don’t even want to do it yourself. He must know how you and Roman felt about each other all those years ago.”
Marlena lowered her eyes. “He knows. He *lived* it back in 1986, after we thought we’d discovered that *he* was Roman. And sometimes I’m afraid…I don’t know, that he thinks I can’t love him as much knowing that he’s *not* the real Roman Brady, even though I didn’t think he was when we fell in love in the first place.” She looked up at him, her eyes a clear, forthright hazel. “It’s not true, Don. I love him with all my heart, I truly do. I love him so much that my heart feels like it’s going to burst with it sometimes.”
He smiled down at her, bemused by the fervor in her voice. “I believe you, kiddo. You always had a pretty good handle on your own feelings.” He gave her cheek a friendly caress. “But I can see John’s side of it, too. After all everyone’s told me he’s been through, it must be pretty hard for him to have faith that *anything* could last very long in his life. He probably doesn’t feel like risking his heart any more than he has to.”
She nodded, her fists clenching reflexively. “I know. And it doesn’t help that Roman knows exactly what buttons to push to feed his insecurity.” Don’s brow furrowed as he considered that. “You think Roman does it on purpose?”
Marlena exhaled gustily. “I *know* he does. He as much as admitted

it.”

“Why?” Don asked quietly, sure of the answer, but wondering if she realized it as well.
“He says he wants me back,” Marlena admitted in a low voice, eyes downcast. “He says he still loves me and wants us to be a family again.” Pained sarcasm tinged her final words.
“And how does that make you feel?” Don asked. His question echoed loudly in the windswept silence.
She stared down at the tombstone as the minutes ticked by, her expression bleak. Her gloveless fingers gripped the sleeves of her coat, reddening under the lashing cold wind. Wayward locks of hair whipped at her cheeks. “Trapped,” she finally whispered, and the desolation in her voice sent chills down his spine.
Don didn’t know what to say to that. An offer to help would be pointless – obviously, there was little or nothing he could do to help her. His gaze followed hers to land on the chiseled marble inscription. “Aaron Leo Black? Why Leo?” he asked, casting desperately about for another subject to take her mind off of her troubles. He realized his error when she flinched. “Oh, Marlena, I’m sorry.”
She shook her head slightly. “It’s okay, Don.” She took a deep breath and began to explain. “We named him Leo after John’s biological father, Leopold Alamain. Because John never had a chance to know him…and we never had a chance to know Aaron.” She wrapped her arms more tightly around her chest and continued in a meditative voice, “I miss them, Don, you know? I miss them as babies. And I miss the people they might have become if only they’d had the chance.” She closed her eyes. “I still see DJ’s face in my dreams at night.”
Don swallowed past the aching lump in his throat. “So do I,” he murmured hoarsely.
She turned to look up at him, and the anguish in her eyes was almost
a plea. He reached over and enveloped her in a heartfelt hug. They
held each other silently as, together, they mourned the loss of their
son.
***
Roman rubbed his arms briskly as he glowered at the front door of St. Luke’s from his vantage point behind a large marble statue. Where the

hell is she? He’d seen John depart minutes before – the other man’s grim expression had cheered Roman immeasurably. Obviously Father Jansen’s little bombshell wasn’t enough to reunite them. Idly, he wondered what the hell was going on in John’s mind. He couldn’t imagine actually giving Marlena up when she so obviously wanted to be with him…even though, intellectually, he knew he’d done the exact same thing three years ago. But as he remembered the look on John’s face when he’d come down the stairs the previous evening to find Roman pledging his love to Marlena… Maybe he just understands that the bond between us is too strong to break, Roman told himself encouragingly. But he had to admit he wasn’t entirely swayed by his own argument. I think I’m missing some key pieces to this puzzle…

Which was why he was standing in the parking lot of St. Luke’s, waiting for Marlena to appear at the front door.
Sighing, he finally gave up and began to walk back toward the church. She was never going to believe that his continued presence outside the church was simply a coincidence, anyway. Too much time had passed for him to be doing anything but waiting for her. He decided he might as well go back inside and keep from freezing to death. ***

“I’m getting your coat all wet,” Marlena sniffed soggily, swiping at the damp spot her tears had created on the crisp tan material. “Sorry.” “S’okay,” Don murmured, smiling into her hair. “I’ll send you the dry cleaning bill.”
She slipped her arm back around his waist and squeezed him in a gentle hug. “Gee, thanks.” She was silent for a moment, then sighed softly. “I really needed this…needed someone to talk to about everything. Thanks for being here.”
“I’m glad I could be,” he said, smoothing a hand over her shining hair. “I’m glad you feel you can talk to me about it. I’ve missed being your friend.”
She nodded against his chest. “Well, I can’t say I actually remember missing you, but I think it’s a pretty safe bet. Let’s not fall out of touch again, okay? I think I’d like to be able to pick up the phone and give you a call whenever I feel like it.”
He hugged her. “Absolutely. Any time, your dime or mine.”
She groaned laughingly. “Even *I* know it costs more than a dime

now, Don. Enter the nineties, as Sami would say!” He chuckled and squeezed her shoulders. “Hello.”

Don felt Marlena jump in his arms. Abruptly, she pulled out of his embrace and turned to face the newcomer, swiping hastily at her damp cheeks as she did so. “Roman! I thought you’d left!”
He shrugged, his gaze darting to Don’s face, a speculative gleam in his eyes. “I did. I came back. So…where’d John go?”
Marlena compressed her lips and looked away. “I don’t know,” she bit out after a moment. “He left not long after you did. I’m surprised you didn’t see him leave.”
Something flickered behind Roman’s eyes, but he said nothing further. He turned to Don. “Hello, Don. I didn’t expect to see you here.”
A small wrinkle of confusion appeared between Don’s eyebrows at the tone in Roman’s voice – a tone he was unaccustomed to hearing from the affable man whom he remembered from all those years ago. It almost sounds as though he’s accusing me of something… “I had a meeting with Mickey and walked over through the park,” he explained as he turned sideways slightly and gestured downward. “I wanted to spend some time with my son.”
Roman had the good grace to look embarrassed. “Oh…I’m sorry, Don, I didn’t mean…I’m sorry.” He shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, but made no move to leave. After a few moments, he looked over at Marlena, who was staring studiously into the trees that surrounded the cemetery’s edge. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Doc? About what Father Jansen told us?”
She finally glanced at him, but her expression was distant. “I really don’t think there’s anything further to be said on the subject.” Don frowned down at her, puzzled. “Father Jansen?”
Marlena rubbed her chilled arms and shrugged diffidently. “He’s a priest here at St. Luke’s, and John, Roman and I met with him this morning. He told us that the Church had decided, after much debate, that we were all free to marry whomever we please within the Church – meaning that we’re not bound by any previous vows we took.” A small grin suddenly quirked her lip as she looked up at Don. “I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that *you* and *I* are not still married in their eyes.” Don mimed utter relief, lifting the back of his hand to his forehead.

“Whew! That’s a load off of my mind.” The glint of his watch face caught his eye. “Oh, wow, look at the time. I have a meeting scheduled with Jack in a few minutes. I really have to go.” He regarded Marlena with tender concern. “Will you be all right?”

She smiled softly and nodded. “I’ll be fine, Don, thanks. I’ll talk to you soon, okay?”
He nodded and gave her hand a friendly squeeze. “Count on it.” He turned to leave, tipping his head to Roman as he headed down the path. “Goodbye, Roman.”
“Bye.” They both watched as he disappeared around the corner of the Church. Roman turned back to Marlena. She refused to meet his gaze as her attention shifted to the marble monuments.
“Doc, it’s freezing out here. Why don’t you come inside with me where it’s warm?” Roman urged persuasively. The keening wind had picked up its pace, slicing through their coats as though they weren’t even wearing them.
“No.” The wind snatched away her quiet reply, but her headshake was firm.
“You’ve been out here for a long time,” he pointed out, a hint of exasperation tingeing his tone. “Long enough, surely. There’s no reason to make yourself ill.”
She looked up at him, and the freezing animosity in her eyes made him take an involuntary step backward. “Is that what you think?” she snapped angrily. “Tell me something, Roman – how long is ‘long enough’ when it comes to mourning the deaths of your children? How much pain and guilt is sufficient?” She laughed bitterly at his shocked expression. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot – *your* children are all alive! You don’t have any *idea* how I feel.” Searing pain leached through her scathing words and she whirled away from him, her shoulders hunching protectively. “Just leave me alone,” she muttered under her breath.
Roman was silent for a moment, stunned by her outburst. Finally, he stepped forward, intending to take her arm, but the sight of the two tombstones stopped him short. DJ’s marker he had seen before, but the newest one…*Children* – she didn’t say *child*, she said *children*! “Aaron Leo Black?” he asked, his voice rising. “Who’s that?” The date on the stone might as well have been carved in neon

considering the way it burned into his brain. 1997…What the *hell*?!? “My son,” Marlena replied in a voice so low it was almost a whisper. She sank to her knees on the cold, hard ground and reached out a shaking hand to trace the inscription. “My baby…”

“*John’s* baby,” he retorted, his voice harsh with sudden, bitter anger. “John *Black’s* baby.” He spat the name as if it were an obscene epithet.
Marlena drew her arm back to wrap it around her knees, hugging her legs to her chest to as if to conserve her body’s warmth. His furious words washed over her, bringing neither pain nor guilt in their wake. She was beyond that now. Idly, she wondered what Roman would say if she revealed the true identity of the baby’s biological father. Would he be even angrier to find out it was Stefano? Or could he possibly prefer him to John? The weary chill settling into her bones left her unwilling to expend the energy on further argument. She stared at the markers that symbolized the deaths of her sons and abruptly decided that she didn’t really care what Roman Brady thought just then. “It has nothing to do with you, Roman,” she informed him dully in a hard, distant voice. “And I don’t want you here. Leave. *Now*.” She closed her eyes and buried her face in her knees, her every action a clear dismissal of his presence.
Roman clenched and unclenched his fists, his throat working convulsively as he tried to formulate a response. His instant fury had almost immediately dissolved into shame and guilt over his reaction to her revelation. You find out she lost a baby and the only thing you can do is criticize her choice of a father? Damn, Roman, be a bit more of a bastard, why don’t you? He took a step toward her. “Doc, I-”
She clapped her hands over her ears, not raising her bowed head. The rigid tension of her neck and shoulders informed Roman that he’d best leave while he still had the chance. “I’m sorry, Doc,” he whispered miserably, allowing his hand to fall away. “I’m so sorry.” He stared down at her a moment, marveling at how small and defenseless she looked, all the while knowing that nothing in the world could be further from the truth. With a regretful sigh, he turned on his heel and left.
Long moments later Marlena finally opened her eyes and removed her hands from her ears. A quick glance sideways revealed that Roman

had obeyed her edict, and she allowed the tension to drain from her

body. Sighing, she rose ponderously to her feet and brushed the

leaves from her coat. She took one last look at the graves of her sons.
“I’ll be back soon, guys,” she whispered. “But right now…right now I
have a future to ensure. For all of us.” She leaned down to run her
hand over the tops of the marble headstones. “I love you. Don’t ever
forget that.”
***
John stood on the edge of Pier 29, staring out over the peaceful water. The frigid wind whipped down the docks with a vengeance, pulling the surface water up in a misting spray of ice, but John didn’t even feel it. His mind played the morning’s events over and over, and he kept coming to the same inescapable conclusion. You are such a coward, Black! How could you leave her to face that alone? What kind of man are you?
John jammed his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders, trying to preserve what warmth he could in the biting wind. His afternoon visit with the children had gone well, if only because, he suspected, they had yet to truly realize the ramifications of his decision to move. Brady’s childish chatter was full of “you and Mommy” and “the whole family”, as if both concepts were a foregone conclusion. Oh, I hope so, son.
He raised his eyes to gaze up at the sun, which shone brightly in the cold winter sky. Somewhere up there was Isabella’s star, and he wondered if she was watching him, ashamed of his cowardice. “I know I shouldn’t have run, Izzy B.,” he whispered. “I know I have to face things. But some things are just too hard to face, you know?” He could almost see her concerned frown. “I’ll try to do better,” he vowed.
The ringing of his celphone interrupted the one-sided conversation. He reached into his pocket, pulled it out, and flipped it open. “Black.” “John? It’s Kristen.”
He grimaced, remembering that he’d been less than gracious to her during their last conversation. Hell, man, you were downright cruel! “Hello, Kristen,” he managed politely. “How are you?”
There was an audible pause on the other end of the line. “Actually,” she finally said in a subdued tone, “I really do need to talk to you, if you aren’t too busy. We really need to discuss our baby, John.”

His immediate knee-jerk reaction was I don’t *want* to talk to her!, a thought that made his mental image of Isabella frown again. What did I just say about not running away anymore? Can’t I keep a promise to myself for more than five seconds these days? He shook his head in self-disgust and took a deep breath. “Of course, I’m not too busy, Kristen. Just tell me when and where.” ***

Roman slammed the front door of the house and threw his coat at the coat rack. It glanced off of one of the hooks and landed in a heap on the floor. “Dammit,” he muttered angrily, striding over to snatch it up from the carpet. “What else can go wrong today?”
“Having a bad day?” Sami asked, her tone lightly laced with sarcasm. He whirled around, startled, to find her sitting on the couch, clad in a pair of sweats and an oversize t-shirt, a bag of potato chips on her lap. She held the television remote in her hand, though the TV itself was blank and silent.
“Something like that,” he murmured, running his hand through his hair as he walked toward the couch. “Things aren’t really going as I had planned.”
Sami pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Mom hasn’t fallen into your arms yet, huh?” She shrugged. “Sorry ’bout that.” She turned back to the TV, tossing her hair over her shoulder.
“You don’t sound sorry,” he observed as he settled into the overstuffed chair. He was not startled to discover that his daughter had discerned his desire to reunite with Marlena. She had always been particularly attuned to their relationship. “That surprises me a little bit, Sami.”
Sami stared silently down at her lap for a moment, before looking up to pin him with a speculative gaze. “You mean, because of all the things I did to keep the two of you together the last time, don’t you? Because I switched the blood tests and kidnapped Belle, all to keep John from finding out that Belle was his child and not yours.” When she mentioned blood tests, a muscle in Sami’s cheek twitched.
“Well…yes,” he admitted hesitantly. “I thought you wanted your parents together more than anything.”
She bit her lip. “That was three years ago, Daddy. Things change.” She looked back down at the unopened bag of chips, idly wondering why she’d taken them from the cupboard when she wasn’t even

hungry.

Roman watched her wordlessly for a moment. “Things like…Aaron, maybe?” he finally ventured, searching her face for a reaction.
Sami flinched and closed her eyes. “Who told you about him?” she asked quietly.
“Your Mom and I went to the church today, to talk to Father Jansen about our status under Church law. After we were finished she went out back to the cemetery, and I followed her. I saw the tombstone.”
She nodded slowly, her grip on the chip bag tightening a bit, with an accompanying crinkling of plastic. “What did she say?” she whispered, her mind racing. Did she tell him about Stefano?
Roman wondered why Sami looked so tense. “She said it had nothing to do with me,” he admitted.
A wry, pained smile crossed Sami’s lips. “I don’t suppose it does,” she murmured finally as she looked up at her father. “Mom and Kristen’s mother were in a car accident and the baby died as a result of the trauma,” she explained. “Dr. Bader had to induce a miscarriage.”
“That must have been really hard on your mother,” Roman offered, his gaze probing her anxious face.
Sami averted her eyes nervously. “Yeah, I guess it was.” She inhaled deeply and changed the subject. “So…when are Mom and John supposed to be home tonight? Will’s with Austin, and I know Brady and Belle are having a sleepover at Mrs. Horton’s with Abby, but it’s still my night to cook. Are you going to be here for dinner, or do you have to work?”
Roman’s jaw clenched as he remembered she did not yet know of John’s departure. “Well, no, I’m not on the rotation just yet. Actually, I was hoping to take your mother out to dinner tonight. Why don’t you take the night off and pamper yourself?”
Sami choked on a cough of disbelief. “You want to take Mom out to dinner? Come *on*, Dad. I don’t think John would like that very much, or Mom, either, for that matter.”
“John doesn’t have anything to say about it,” he snapped shortly, irked by her incredulity. “He moved out last night.” He belatedly remembered Marlena’s admonition to break the news to Sami gently as he watched the color drain from his daughter’s face.
“He what?” she asked hoarsely. Her fingers tightened on the bag.

There’s going to be nothing but crumbs left in there, Roman thought irrelevantly. “He moved out,” he repeated in a gentler tone. “He thought your Mom needed some time to come to terms with…well, with my return to Salem, and all the old feelings it brings up. He’s staying over at the new house.”

Sami’s teeth clamped down on her lower lip so hard that Roman was afraid she was going to draw blood. “It was his idea?” she inquired in a strangled voice.
Roman nodded. “Yes. He was going to tell you last night, but you didn’t answer your door, and you weren’t awake by the time Marlena and I had to leave this morning. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to drop a bomb on you like this.”
The color was slowly returning to her cheeks, but her eyes seemed to drain to corresponding lifelessness. “He’s gone,” she whispered absently, almost as if she were talking to herself. “He left. Just like everyone else.”
Roman leaned forward to place a hand on her knee, but she flinched and drew away. “Hey,” he said softly, chagrined that Marlena’s dire predictions about Sami’s probable reaction to John’s departure seemed to be coming true. “He’s just across town. You can see him any time you want.”
“Yeah,” Sami muttered as she rose from the couch. “Sure.” She flung the bag of chips down on the coffee table. “I’m going to my room. Have a nice *dinner*!” Her bitter tone did not match the sentiment, but before Roman could stop her, she’d taken the stairs two at a time and vanished.
He sighed and leaned back against the chair, his gaze falling on the mangled bag of potato chips. “Well, *that* went well.” ***

“I don’t know if I think this is a particularly good idea,” Laura said slowly as she studied the anxious woman across her desk.
“Well, *I* do,” Marlena snapped impatiently, “and I’m a psychiatrist, too, remember? I *want* to do this, Laura. I *need* to.” Laura leaned forward, regarding her friend intently. “Why?”
“Because if I don’t remember the past, then I don’t have a future!” Marlena finally burst out, the day’s stresses showing their effects at last. “John *left*, Laura! And he’s not coming back until I can prove to

him that I don’t want Roman anymore. The *only* way to do that is to convince him that I accepted the divorce and got over Roman Brady a long time ago. And the only way I can do *that* is by remembering the years I’ve forgotten. You *have* to hypnotize me, Laura! It’s the only way!”

“You *are* a psychiatrist,” Laura replied gently. “And as a psychiatrist, you understand the circumstances under which hypnosis can be used effectively.” She rolled a pen between her fingers, her brow furrowed in concern. “You’re too upset, Marlena, and you want to remember for all the wrong reasons. Your mind took those memories from you to protect you. Pushing too hard, too fast, could be detrimental to your health.”
“My mind was protecting me from the knowledge that I was carrying Stefano DiMera’s baby, but I found out about it anyway,” Marlena shot back, frustrated by Laura’s unwillingness to help. The other woman’s expression of shock belatedly reminded Marlena that she hadn’t informed her friend of that bit of information. She rubbed her forehead tiredly. “I’m sorry, Laura. I was going to tell you, really, but it just seemed easier…” her voice trailed off and she sighed. “Aaron was *Stefano’s* child?” Laura muttered incredulously.
Marlena closed her eyes for a moment, mustering her strength for the coming verbal battle. “Biologically, yes. Dr. Bader told us that my body showed evidence of artificial insemination, and Mike said I was already pregnant when I escaped from Stefano.” She shrugged, attempting to dismiss the lingering pain. “So, there you have it, the big, bad reason why my mind wiped out ten years of my life. Only something went wrong, I suppose, because the secret’s out and I still haven’t remembered.”
“And you want me to hypnotize you so you can do so,” Laura concluded stiffly, still reeling from Marlena’s revelation.
“Yes,” Marlena said, leaning forward to pin Laura with a beseeching gaze. “I could do it myself – I *will* do it myself if you don’t help me – but I’d like it much better if I had a friend along for the ride. What do you say, Laura? Will you help me?”
Laura sighed, closed her eyes, and nodded.
Chapter 62
“When I snap my fingers, you’ll awaken. You’ll remember everything

that you revealed under hypnosis,” Laura instructed in a gentle voice. “Do you understand?”

Marlena nodded slowly, and Laura snapped her fingers. Marlena flinched as reality abruptly returned. She glanced up at her friend, the momentary confusion clearing from her eyes as her expression darkened. “It didn’t work,” she concluded in a bitter tone. “Again!”
Laura regarded her sympathetically. “I told you that I didn’t feel moving our session to your office would be any more beneficial to us. You still can’t remember anything about the last ten years, familiar environment or no.”
Marlena’s fists clenched as she shot up from her chair. “I *have* to remember, Laura,” she muttered as she stalked toward the wall. Spinning on her heel, she pinned her friend with an angry glare. “We’ll just have to keep trying until it works, that’s all. I’m not going to give up.”
“Marlena, sweetie, putting all this pressure on yourself is *not* going to help you remember faster – in fact, it might retard our progress significantly,” Laura pointed out reasonably. “You *know* that.”
Marlena sighed and collapsed into her chair. “I *do* know that. I know you’re right, Laura, and I don’t mean to take my frustration out on you. I’m just so desperate to find something…*anything* to help me prove to John that I no longer love Roman. He’s so fixated on the idea that my amnesia prevents me from knowing my true feelings that I just don’t think he’ll listen to me until I remember the events of the last ten years. Hypnosis was all I could think of to make that happen.”
Laura pursed her lips, considering. “Well,” she said after a moment, “as our session seems to have been a bust, I guess you could always try doing as John asked.”
Marlena eyed her suspiciously, alerted by her nonchalant tone. “What do you mean?”
Laura shrugged, uncomfortable under her friend’s piercing gaze. “John isn’t asking the world of you, Marlena. Just a little time, and a little conversation with Roman. It’s not as if he’s asking you to pretend you’re still married to the man. So give it a few days, reminisce about some old times…would that really be so incredibly difficult?”
Marlena scowled. “It’s clear to me that you have absolutely no idea how obnoxious Roman has become in the past decade or so, or you

wouldn’t even have to ask that question.” She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. “But if I thought it would work, I’d do just that, Laura. I just don’t think it would be enough to convince John, and then all I’d have for my troubles is a boatload of additional problems between Roman and me.”

Laura raised an eyebrow. “Is it really that bad between you?”
Marlena sat back in her chair and sighed. “Yes…and I can’t really blame all of it on Roman, much as I’d like to. I *do* understand how hard it must be for him to accept how I feel, since he knows I can’t remember the way our marriage ended. But even if I don’t remember the *events*, I do seem somehow to remember the feelings. Every time I see him I experience an almost irrational burst of anger, which I can onlyassume comes out of my reaction to his deserting the children after the divorce.” She cocked her head thoughtfully. “Which is not to say I blame *myself* for the present state of our relationship, at least not entirely. Even if my irritation is unreasonable, I’d have to say he hasn’t done much to change my opinion.” She rubbed her forehead wearily. “Speaking of that, you’ll never believe what he did this morning.”
Laura steepled her hands and eyed her friend curiously. “What?”
“He followed me out to the cemetery behind St. Luke’s,” Marlena told her. “Don and I were there reminiscing about DJ and looking at the new monument for Aaron. Roman interrupted us, was incredibly rude to Don, and then when he saw the tombstone, all he could do was make some snide remark about the fact that John was Aaron’s father!” “But John wasn’t,” Laura pointed out.
“That’s not the point, Laura,” Marlena replied exasperatedly. “The point is, he had just discovered that my child *died* – and his first thought was about himself, about how *he* felt! How selfish is that?”

“Pretty selfish,” Laura conceded. “So, what you’re saying is, there’s no way in the world you can do as John has asked, because you can’t stand to be around Roman.” She regarded Marlena’s stubborn expression silently for a moment. “What if that means you don’t get John back?”
Marlena closed her eyes and bowed her head. “I don’t know,” she finally whispered softly. “I just have to believe that it won’t come to

that, Laura.” She raised her gaze to meet her friend’s. “That’s why you have to keep helping me. I know this first session doesn’t seem to have done us much good, but I’m not willing to throw in the towel just yet. You will keep trying, won’t you?” Her expression was beseeching. Laura opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by the beeping of the intercom on Marlena’s desk. Sighing, Marlena leaned forward to press the button. “Yes, Hillary?”

“Captain Brady is here to see you, Dr. Evans,” came her secretary’s slightly tinny voice through the monitor. Marlena’s hand froze on the button as her breath caught in her throat. She looked up at Laura, who watched with growing trepidation as her friend’s expression hardened into granite.
“Just a minute, Hillary,” Marlena replied calmly as she glanced down at her watch and grimaced. “I’m sorry, Laura, I’ve kept you much longer than I should have. My patient may have canceled, but I know you have one waiting. Let me walk you out.”
Laura nodded as she stood up from behind the desk. “What are you going to say to Roman?” she asked as they headed toward the door. Marlena shrugged, reaching for the doorknob. “Whatever comes to mind, I guess,” she replied diffidently as the door swung open, not fooling Laura for a moment with her nonchalant tone. Roman smiled uncertainly at her from his vantage point beside Hillary’s desk. The smile faded away as he beheld Marlena’s grim expression, and he darted a quick glance back toward Laura, who felt a sudden surge of sympathy for the man. With the mood she’s in, this isn’t going to be pretty…but he caused it all by himself, and he’ll have to face it the same way.
She turned to smile wanly at Marlena. “I’ll call you tonight about the answer to your question, all right? But as it stands right now, I think I *will* be able to help you.”
Marlena’s answering smile was genuine and grateful, if fleeting. “Thanks, Laura. You’re the best.”
Laura nodded at Roman and Hillary as she exited the anteroom. The redheaded secretary glanced from her boss to her boss’s ex-husband and abruptly returned her attention to her clandestine game of Minesweeper. Yikes! she thought as bombs appeared all over her playing board in response to an ill-considered click of the mouse

button. Captain Brady is dead meat!

Roman began to fidget nervously under Marlena’s unwavering scrutiny. “Hi, Doc,” he offered finally in a strangled voice.
She inclined her head stiffly, her expression cold enough to freeze fire. He felt his gut twist. “Hello, Roman.” ***

John knocked briskly on the front door of the DiMera mansion before stuffing his cold hands back into the pockets of his leather jacket. He sighed tiredly, his presence unwilling and slightly resentful. Come on, John, he chided himself, she has every right to expect you to help make decisions about the baby. He felt guilty about the marked difference in his attitude toward the child he had created with Kristen – Brady had been most eagerly anticipated, and he’d wanted Belle to be his child more than anything in the world. But his newest child engendered different feelings, and as badly as he felt about that, he couldn’t seem to change his attitude. I can’t let Kristen see it, though. That would be beyond cruel.
The door swung open to reveal Kristen, dressed in a large, somewhat wrinkled maternity dress. Her hair hung limply down her back, and she had dark circles under her eyes. But her smile was genuine as she gestured for him to enter into the house. Obediently he walked inside, glancing at her with concern. “Are you all right, Kristen?”
She raised a self-conscious hand to her hair and grimaced. “I’m fine. Just tired. Being pregnant takes a lot out of you, you know?”
He nodded as they passed through the foyer into the living room. His eyes widened as he beheld the clutter strewn all about the room – dirty clothes, abandoned food dishes, and dust on every surface. He raised an eyebrow. “Kristen?”
“Aliana left,” she explained as she kicked a bundle of clothes into the corner, fuming silently for a moment over her former maid’s ingratitude. “She said she got a better offer, and I haven’t had time to get a new housekeeper, nor the energy to clean it up myself. Don’t worry about it, though. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” he replied doubtfully. “Well…do you want to talk here or go out someplace to grab a bite?” He eyed a stack of dirty dishes and hid a grimace of distaste. I hope she wants to go out – I wouldn’t want to eat anything from a kitchen that might possibly be in the same state as

this room.

Her face lit up. “Go out? That would be wonderful!” She reached over to squeeze his arm excitedly. “Could we go to the Grill? It’s been so long since I’ve been out on the town – I’ve almost forgotten what it’s like to have fun!”
John flinched, and Kristen swallowed a triumphant smile at the guilt that flashed in his eyes. She turned away from him, suddenly embarrassed by her unkempt state. It just takes so much *energy* to get around in the morning when you know you have nothing to look forward to the rest of the day. Her smile resurfaced. But I *do* have something to look forward to – dinner with the man I love. She swung back around to look up at John and offered him her sunniest grin. “Just let me run upstairs and change, okay? I’ll be right back.” Wordlessly, he nodded.
***
Without another word, Marlena turned on her heel and disappeared back inside her office. After a moment of hesitation, Roman followed her, and found her perusing an open drawer of file folders in her filing cabinet, her back turned toward him.
“Can I talk to you for a minute, Doc?” he asked. She withdrew a folder and closed the drawer with a resounding *SLAM*. Roman experienced a sudden disturbing premonition that she had been envisioning some of his more select body parts caught in the midst. He winced. Ouch! “Please, Marlena, I really need to talk to you.”
Marlena sat down carefully in her chair, her back ramrod straight, her expression grim. “So talk,” she snapped, which was not exactly indicative of the somewhat open mind he’d been hoping for.
Roman sat down gingerly in the chair across the desk, wondering what in the world could possibly break through her wall of anger. He opened his mouth without knowing what he was going to say, and was surprised to hear the words “I’m sorry” come tumbling out. Marlena looked a bit stunned herself. “What?”
He almost laughed at her incredulity, except that it somehow made him feel even more guilty. Have I said that to her so few times in our lives? “I’m sorry,” he repeated firmly. “I’m incredibly sorry that I reacted the way I did when I found out about your son. It was stupid and selfish, and I regretted it the minute I closed my mouth.”

She stared at him for a moment. “You should have!” she finally muttered fiercely. “You *should* regret it! How could you make the death of *my* baby all about *you*! What kind of man *are* you, Roman?”

“Sorry,” he replied after a moment, ashamed anew by the pain he heard in her voice. “Sorry and stupid and hurt. I lashed out at you because…well, never mind why, no excuse is good enough. You’re right, the way *I* felt shouldn’t have entered into it at all.” He leaned forward, manifest sincerity suffusing his face. “I’m sorry you lost your baby, Marlena. I’m sorry for both you and John.”
She averted her eyes, blinking back tears. “Thank you,” she mumbled finally. She compressed her lips, eventually raising her gaze to meet his. “And you’re right,” she added softly. “No excuse is good enough. But if you’d like to tell me…I’d be willing to listen.” Her offer produced a momentary stunned silence.
Roman sat back in his chair, struck again by the incredibly generous spirit of the woman he’d loved for so long. He took a deep breath. “I was remembering,” he began quietly, unable to look at her, his gaze riveted on her desktop. “I saw the tombstone and read the name, and I realized that you and John shared another child…and I remembered the day that Stefano DiMera came to our door and informed me that my little girl, whom I loved and cherished more than life itself…was really the daughter of a man I called “friend”…the product of an adulterous affair between him and my wife.” He swallowed convulsively and managed to meet her gaze. “And in that moment, all the bitterness I’ve tried so hard to leave behind came rushing back again, and I spoke without thinking. It only lasted for an instant, I hope you can believe that…but I know that what I said must have hurt you.”
Marlena regarded him silently for a moment, a glimmer of compassion in her eyes. “It didn’t,” she finally replied in a measured voice. “It didn’t hurt me, it just made me angry. And now that you’ve explained *why* you said what you did, I suppose I can understand it. But I need you to understand something, too, Roman,” she added, leaning forward and bracing her elbows on the desk. Her voice was insistent and implacable, and her gaze bored into him. “I need you to understand that I don’t feel guilty any longer for the things I did in the past – first of all, because I don’t *remember* them – second, because I apparently

paid for my sins several times over in many horrible different ways…and third, and most importantly, because I’ve been forgiven, by God, man, and Sami. I’ve even forgiven myself, which is something that *other* Marlena seems never to have been able to do.” She tilted her head and regarded him calmly. “The affair, the questions about Belle’s paternity, my culpability for what Sami has done…it’s water under the bridge to me. It won’t help your…*agenda*…to bring it up anymore. Do you understand me?”

“I don’t have an agenda,” he retorted, irked by her circuitous suggestion that his apology might have had selfish underpinnings. She smiled in satisfaction. “Then we understand one another.”
His jaw clenched, but he managed a stiff smile in return. “I guess we do.”
“Fine. I suppose there’s nothing further to discuss, then.” Marlena stood up from her chair and skirted the desk, intending to make her way to the door to escort him out. His next words stopped her. “Actually, there is, Doc,” Roman said. “We need to talk about Sami.”
She turned around to regard him with concern. “What about her?”
He grimaced. “She didn’t…*react* well to the news that John had moved out. It seems you were right about how she’d feel about the situation. She was much more upset than I had expected.”
She closed her eyes briefly, a pained expression on her face. “I suppose there wasn’t anything you could have done to soften the blow…but I really hate pulling the rug out from under her this way. She was doing so well, concentrating on Will and school and her future. She’d even begun to leave Carrie and Austin alone somewhat.”
Anger darkened his cheeks. “Yes, *Austin*,” he muttered, his voice dripping contempt. Marlena shot him an impatient glance and he subsided, scowling.
She glanced down at her watch. “Well, my patient for the day canceled. At this rate, Reilly’s going to have all the justification he needs for firing me. Anyway, I suppose I could go home and try to explain things to Sami.”
“Do you think I didn’t try?” Roman asked archly. “I *told* her it was temporary, and that she could see John anytime she wanted. I made it perfectly clear to her that this wasn’t a situation where she needed to make a choice. There’s nothing you could say to her that I didn’t, Doc.”

She regarded him silently for a moment. “What are you saying, Roman?”

“I’m saying that she needs some time alone to process things. Will’s with his father, Belle and Brady are at Alice’s…just give her an evening to deal with it, that’s all.”
She raised a perceptive brow. “And?”
He smiled sheepishly. She knows me too well… “And come to dinner with me.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?!?”
“Come to dinner with me,” he repeated. “Just one dinner, so we can iron out some of the problems that still exist between us. I want us to be *friends*, Doc, at least that if nothing more. We’ve been too important to each other for much too long for us to exist at the level of an armed truce. Come on,” he added persuasively, “you don’t really want to eat anything that either of *us* would cook, do you?”
That startled a laugh out of her. “Not really,” she replied, chuckling softly as Laura’s earlier words suddenly swam back into her mind – “Give it a few days, reminisce about some old times…would that really be so incredibly difficult?” She glanced down at the engagement ring on her finger, chewing thoughtfully on her lower lip. If I do as John asks…if I face my relationship with Roman…maybe this could all be over much sooner than I thought.
Marlena looked back up at Roman and smiled, the first genuine, angst-free smile he could remember seeing on her face since his return. It should have made him very happy, but something about it made him distinctly uneasy. “Are you buying?” she quipped. He nodded. “You bet.”
She snatched her purse up from the desk. “Then let’s go!”
***
Kristen’s fingers tightened possessively on John’s arm as they exited the elevator on the top floor of the Titan building. She wore a long, yellow, sequined maternity/evening dress, her hair swept up into a chignon and her ears dripping diamonds. She hadn’t been able to do much about the circles under her eyes, but excitement lent them a happy sparkle. She smiled as heads turned throughout the Penthouse Grill, managing to dismiss with difficulty the sprinkling of frowns and doubtful grimaces as she gazed upon the man next to her with a

proprietary air. He’s mine, her every movement seemed to say.

Their entrance caught Carrie’s attention from her table across the room where she was eating dinner with Austin. She tugged on his arm to pull his attention from the band in the corner. “Look,” she hissed.
Austin turned to see where she was pointing and frowned, confused. “What’s he doing here with Kristen? Where’s Marlena?”
“I have no idea,” Carrie snapped impatiently as she stood up from the table. “But you can bet I’m going to find out.”
“Carrie, wait-” he began, but she was already crossing the room.
John turned from requesting a table for two from the hostess to find himself facing his former daughter, who glared up at him, her eyes shooting sparks. “I need to talk to you for a minute, John,” she commanded in a clipped tone, glancing dismissively at Kristen.
“Sure, Punkin,” he said, darting an apologetic blink toward Kristen.
“Excuse me a moment,” he muttered.
As Carrie drew him back into the lobby near the bank of payphones, Vivian and Ivan intercepted Kristen, who was frowning intently at Carrie’s back.
“Kristen,” Vivian murmured drily, smirking as her gaze traveled up and down Kristen’s corpulent figure. “You’re looking…fertile.” Ivan stifled a snicker.
“Vivian,” Kristen parroted, scowling. “You’re looking…perilously close to unemployment.”
Her threat didn’t have the desired impact – instead, Vivian’s triumphant grin widened. “Actually, that was what I wanted to talk to you about. It seems I don’t need your vote as badly as I had assumed I would at the Titan Board Meeting tomorrow.” She fingered her upswept hair airily, the light gleaming off of crimson nails. “I spoke to Marlena on the phone this afternoon, and she informed me that she intends to vote against Kate’s motion to strip me of my position and *for* my retention on the Board.”
Kristen’s mouth dropped open. “What?”
“Yes,” Vivian affirmed with a satisfied expression, “She is apparently the only member of the Board who bothered to actually compare the figures from when I was in charge of Titan to the pitiful performance Kate has put forth in the last year. She didn’t say,” she added, “but I have a feeling that Marlena feels it is bad business to install your

singularly untalented children in positions of importance and then not even care when they spend months in Italy, throwing their departments into chaos and costing the company millions.” She offered Kristen a sweetly triumphant smile. “Apparently, Marlena feels that the stockholders actually deserve the most competent leadership possible in order to make a profit on their investment. Imagine that.”

Kristen flushed angrily. “I don’t believe you, Vivian. Victor wanted you out of the company! He wanted Kate to be in charge, everybody knows that. John can’t know about this – he would never stand for it!”
Vivian rolled her eyes. “Well, apparently Marlena feels she doesn’t need John’s permission to make up her own mind. I realize that might seem strange to you, but millions of women do it every day. You should try it some time.”
The flush receded from Kristen’s cheeks and her gaze narrowed shrewdly. “Wait a minute,” she muttered under her breath. “Just wait a minute…” A small smile appeared on her lips as she stared off into the distance, her expression abstracted. “This could actually work in my favor. John will be *furious* with Marlena when he finds out about this.”
Vivian rolled her eyes again and threaded her arm through Ivan’s. “Whatever, Kristen. I can’t say I believe that something this minor could tear John away from Marlena, but you think whatever you want. I just wanted to let you know where we stand. Consider this our final notice as your partners-in-crime. I think we’ve outlived our usefulness to one another.”
Kristen frowned, her hands tightening on the firm lump of her pregnancy pillow. “You’d better not be thinking of confessing all to John and Marlena, Vivian,” she threatened. “I may not be Stefano, but I learned how to respond to betrayal from the master himself.”
Vivian and Ivan traded glances. “You don’t have to threaten us,” Vivian replied, sighing. “Telling John that his child is made of down feathers instead of flesh and blood would harm us as much as it would you.” She tilted her head to the side consideringly. “Well, maybe not quite as much, but it certainly wouldn’t do us any good. So your secret is safe with us. But Kristen,” she added, leaning forward to touch the other woman’s arm, her triumphant smirk slipping for a moment to allow genuine concern to show through, “I think you should give up

while the getting is good. You can’t possibly pull this off, and even if you could, John wouldn’t come back to you. The longer you wait to end it, the worse the fallout will be.”

Kristen snatched her arm away, scowling bitterly. “Keep your advice to yourself, Vivian,” she snapped. “And keep your mouth shut, or you’ll discover what happens to people who cross the DiMeras.” She whirled on her heel and stalked away in a shimmer of sequins and blonde hair.
“You know what, Madame?” Ivan asked in a thoughtful tone after a
moment of silence.
“What?”
He pursed his lips. “I really don’t think she’s entirely sane, Madame.” Vivian studied Kristen’s retreating form, her brow furrowing. “You know, Ivan,” she murmured finally, “I think you might be right.” ***

“Look, Carrie,” John replied patiently, “I promise I’m not giving up on Marlena, and even if I *were*, I wouldn’t get involved with Kristen again. It wouldn’t be fair to her, for one thing.”
Carrie sighed, her anger having faded to concern. “I *believe* you, John. I just don’t think Kristen does. She’s acting like…well, like you’re still together or something.”
John shook his head, a bit exasperated. “It’s just *dinner*, Carrie. I *owe* her this much – she’s lost everyone in her family, and she’s having my *baby* for God’s sake! I think the least I can do is buy her a meal, don’t you?”
Carrie finally nodded, chagrined. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry.” She reached out to squeeze his arm apologetically. “I guess I’m just more upset about you moving out of the house than I realized. Are you sure it was a good idea, John?”
He compressed his lips as a muscle in his jaw twitched. “It’s the way it has to be for now, Carrie,” he said, sighing. “And I’m interrupting your dinner with Austin. You probably have a ton of last-minute details to iron out for your engagement party at Kate’s tomorrow night.”
Carrie shook her head. “No, actually, everything is pretty much done. You will be there, won’t you?” she added anxiously. “I mean, your moving out doesn’t change the fact that you’re walking me down the aisle, right?”

“As long as you want me, I’ll be honored to do it,” he assured her. “Nothing in the world could change how I feel about you. And don’t worry about me so much, okay? I’m going to be fine.”

She regarded him silently for a moment. “I hope so,” she murmured, standing on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “I love you.”
“I love you, too, Punkin,” he replied, giving her face a brief caress. Kristen appeared next to him and laid a hand on his arm. “Are you finished?” she asked, forcing a tight smile for Carrie, who returned the gesture with one of equal insincerity.
John glanced at Carrie, who nodded slightly. “Yes, I guess we are.” “Then come dance with me,” Kristen urged, tugging on his arm. “The hostess said that it’ll be a few minutes before our table is ready, and I feel like dancing.”
He nodded resignedly and ignored Carrie’s raised eyebrows. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
Carrie watched them as they walked toward the dance floor, her gaze narrowing with concern. I don’t care what John says. Kristen is acting very strange, and I don’t like it.
Kristen threaded her arms around John’s neck and smiled up at him. She would have liked nothing better than to lean into his comforting warmth and wrap her arms around his chest, but she knew that her pregnancy scam would be revealed if she got too close, so she contented herself with gazing up at his handsome face. He managed a wan smile, though his conversation with Carrie had clearly left him the worse for…something. “Is everything all right with Carrie?” she asked, trying to sound as if she cared.
He nodded. “Everything’s fine. She was just…concerned about something, but I told her that everything would work out for the best.” “Mmm,” Kristen replied, a smile tugging at her lips. Everything *will* work out for the best, John, she thought with satisfaction as she gazed over his shoulder at the couple who’d just emerged from the elevator. John, whose back was to them, hadn’t noticed their entrance yet. But they had clearly seen him, and as Kristen studied the stormy expression on Marlena’s face and the satisfied half-grin on Roman’s, she finally allowed her smile free reign. She looked back up at John, her eyes sparkling with triumphant amusement. “Yes, John,” she said, “I’m sure you’re right about that. I’m sure everything will work out…just

the way it’s supposed to. For everyone.”

Chapter 63
Roman watched, barely managing to stifle a smile, as John and Kristen swayed across the dance floor of the Penthouse Grill. He snuck a glance toward Marlena, who stood by his side in the entrance alcove, her grim expression frozen, her eyes shooting angry sparks. A sarcastic remark trembled on his lips, but long experience with Dr. Marlena Evans had taught him that discretion tended to be the better part of valor – and that he was the one who would suffer the most if she got pissed off.
“It’s just dinner, Marlena,” came Carrie’s voice from off to the left. She approached them and laid a hand on Marlena’s arm. “He would never get back with her, no matter what *she* thinks, you know that.” Roman scowled at Carrie, but she ignored him, her gaze fixed on Marlena’s face. “You do know that, don’t you, Marlena?”
Marlena drew in a shaky breath. “Of course,” she managed as she pinned a smile on her face. “I just…wasn’t expecting to see him tonight, that’s all.”
The maitre’d interrupted their tableau, bowing obsequiously. “Dr. Evans! Captain Brady! It’s wonderful to see you again. I have reserved the table you requested, Captain. If you would follow me, please.”
Marlena wrenched her gaze from John’s oblivious back and turned narrowed eyes on Roman. “You made *reservations*?” she asked, her tone rising dangerously. He could tell that she was incensed at the idea he hadn’t taken her bitter anger seriously.
He nodded, chagrined. “A fit of hopeless optimism, Doc,” he muttered after a moment, shrugging sheepishly. “I figured if hell actually *did* freeze over, it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared.”
Marlena bit back a smile – his expression bore an uncanny resemblance to the one Eric had worn as a child when he knew he’d been caught misbehaving and there was no way to squirm out of it. She rolled her eyes and sighed. “I suppose…as we’re already *here*…and since *you* are paying and I’ve been having a yen for lobster…”
He took hope from her amused tone. Might as well go for broke. “Wanna dance first?”
He could see the indignant retort forming on her lips, but then her

gaze flicked away to focus once again on John and Kristen. A dangerous gleam lit her eyes. “Yes. Why not?” “Marlena,” Carrie interrupted warningly.

Marlena offered her a sweet smile. “Why don’t you get back to your fiance, honey? We’ll see you tomorrow after the board meeting, at your engagement party.”
Carrie sighed and gave up. “Fine, whatever.” I swear, sometimes it’s like I’m back in junior high or something. If one of them asks me to pass a note, I’m going to deck them. She gave each of them a begrudging kiss on the cheek and turned back toward Austin, who was playing air guitar with his fork to the beat of the band in the corner. She took a deep breath and braced herself. Lord, give me strength.
Roman took Marlena’s hand to lead her out onto the dance floor. “Using me to make someone jealous, Doc?” he murmured laconically. Marlena raised her eyebrows. “Do you actually care?” she asked mildly, clearly indicating that whether he did or not didn’t matter to *her* in the slightest. Her lip quirked in an challenging grin.
Roman pulled her into his arms just as the band segued into a slow, romantic song. He circled an arm around her waist and drew her closer. “No,” he whispered softly into her ear, inhaling the sweet clean scent of her golden hair. He closed his eyes and savored the feel of her in his arms once again. “I can’t say that I do.” ***

John frowned down at Kristen. “Are you sure you aren’t getting tired?” he asked hopefully. She was running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and it was driving him nuts. “Maybe we’d better sit down.”
Her eyes were closed, a dreamy smile wreathing her face as they swayed back and forth to the music. It’s kinda like dancing with a beach ball that has arms, he thought irrelevantly while she replied, “Mmmm, no, I don’t want to sit down. I don’t *ever* want to sit down. I want to stay just like this, forever.”
He reached up to disengage her arms from around his neck. “I don’t think management would like it all that much if you gave birth here on the dance floor, Kristen. Come on, let’s get to our table.”
She threaded her arm through his as they turned toward the dining

area. The sight of Marlena dancing in Roman’s arms froze John dead in his tracks. Kristen bit back a grin. “Oh, look who’s here,” she observed brightly. “I guess we weren’t the only ones in the mood for a night on the town.”

John swallowed. “I guess not,” he muttered, tugging Kristen over toward their table in the corner.
“Don’t you want to say hello?” she asked cheerfully. He glanced at her suspiciously and she smiled, her eyes wide an innocent. And then the question became moot.
“Hello, John,” Marlena murmured, stepping back from Roman’s close embrace. He kept his arm around her waist and smiled smugly at John. Marlena flicked a glance toward Kristen. “Kristen.”
“Well, *hi*,” Kristen returned, her smile widening. “Fancy meeting you here.”
Roman let out an ironic snort of laughter. “Funny, isn’t it? Hello, Kristen. You look…”
“Fat as a whale?” she supplied in a cheerful voice as she rubbed her stomach fondly. “I know, I know. I haven’t seen my feet for weeks. But it’ll be worth it once our little one gets here, won’t it, honey?” She gazed up at John lovingly.
He didn’t see it, as his eyes were riveted on Marlena. “Can I talk to you for a minute, Doc?” he asked abruptly. Roman and Kristen frowned in unison. “It’s about the board meeting tomorrow,” he added hurriedly, though clearly they were not buying it.
“Of course,” Marlena replied, sliding away from Roman with easy grace. “Let’s dance while we talk, shall we?” She held out her hand, and John took it with alacrity, turning to lead her onto the dance floor, leaving Kristen and Roman behind them, blankfaced and at a loss for words.
Roman looked over at the other woman and managed a friendly smile. “Would you like to join me at our table until they’re done…um, talking? We haven’t had much of a chance to catch up since I’ve been back.”
She shrugged with ill grace. “Why not? They’ll probably be a while.” She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone.
He studied her unhappy expression as he pulled a chair out for her. “Is something bothering you?”
She seated herself ponderously and waited for him to find his own

chair. “How can you ask me that, Roman? You know what’s bothering me – it’s the same thing that’s bothering you.” She waved away his automatic protest. “Don’t bother pretending otherwise, Roman. You’re talking to the only person in Salem who could possibly understand *exactly* what you’re going through. I know just what you wanted from this evening – a nice, quiet, romantic dinner with the person you love. I wanted the same thing.” She twisted in her chair to frown at the dancing lovers. “And here we are instead, watching from the sidelines.”

Roman regarded her silently for a moment, considering her words.
“Can I ask you something?” he asked finally.
She turned back to face him and cocked her head to one side. “Sure. Ask me anything.”
He picked up his dinner knife and ran one finger down the serrated edge. His reflection gleamed in the polished silver. “I suppose I just don’t understand…why you want him back,” he murmured. “He left you for his former lover while you were pregnant with his child. I don’t understand why you don’t *hate* him, much less why you still *want* him.” Her face flushed angrily and he immediately regretted his words. “I’m sorry, it’s really none of my business.”
“No,” she replied stiffly, “It’s a fair question. But I have to point out, I could ask you the same thing. I could ask you why *you* still want a woman who has made it clear she still loves the man who broke up your marriage and fathered her illegitimate daughter. I mean, that’s why you *divorced* her in the first place, isn’t it? Why do you want her back now?”
He frowned down at his plate. “I never said I did.”
“Oh, come on, Roman,” she scoffed. “I’m not an idiot. And you’re not exactly a poker-face. Let’s at least be honest with each other. We’re in the same boat here. I know exactly how you feel.”
He reached out to palm the saltshaker, his eyes downcast. “I didn’t come back to Salem to get Marlena back, Kristen,” he murmured softly after a moment. “I truly believed it was over…and I thought I had accepted it. But when I found out about her amnesia…” He closed his eyes. “I guess I thought maybe…oh, I don’t know.”
“You thought you could get back to the way things were, because she didn’t remember all the bad times,” Kristen finished gently. “That

makes perfect sense, Roman.” She leaned forward to touch his hand. “And I believe it’s possible. I believe that somewhere deep down inside, Marlena is still the same woman who begged you to give your marriage another chance, to try and work out all your problems after you found out about the affair. She’s just lost that woman somewhere in the haze of memory, that’s all. You have to do everything that you can to help her find those feelings, Roman. For your sake…and for hers.”

He raised an eyebrow, his expression wry. “And for your sake, too, perhaps?” he intoned ironically.
Her gaze was steady. “I’m not going to pretend that I don’t want it just as much as you do, Roman. I’m not going to pretend that the idea of raising John’s child by myself doesn’t terrify me. And I’m not going to pretend that I don’t want John back more than anything in the world.” She leaned forward again, her eyes blazing with earnest intensity. “But you know what, Roman? That doesn’t mean it shouldn’t happen. That doesn’t mean it’s wrong. We have just as much right to our dreams as anyone in the world.” She turned to point to the dance floor. “We have just as much right to our dreams as *they* do.”
His jaw clenched. “But they have the *same* dream,” he whispered, a hint of despair in his tone. “You can’t *make* someone love you, Kristen. You can’t make someone love you when they don’t.”
“They *did* love us!” she hissed back desperately. “And I believe they still do. We only have to remind them. Will you help me, Roman? Will you help me remind them?”
Silence fell at their table as the sweet strains of a violin solo wafted through the restaurant. Roman stared at John and Marlena with haunted eyes as they moved to the music, lost in each other’s arms. The familiar, aching pain of devastating loss burned in his chest. He closed his eyes. “I don’t know, Kristen,” he whispered. “I don’t know.” ***
Marlena reached up with one hand and splayed her palm against John’s chest, savoring the warmth of their bodies pressed so closely together. She could feel the beat of his heart against her cheek through the fabric of his shirt. “This is nice,” she breathed, closing her eyes. “I’ve missed you.”
John’s arm tightened involuntarily around her waist. “Have you?” he

asked mildly.

Something in his tone made her frown. She pushed away slightly, tilting her head back to study his expression. “Is something wrong, John?”
He wouldn’t meet her gaze. “What could possibly be wrong, Marlena?” Her gaze narrowed. There’s that tone again. “I don’t know. But you sound…annoyed. Are you annoyed with me?”
A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Now why would I be annoyed, Doc?” “Stop it,” she retorted sharply. “Stop answering all my questions with a question. If you’re angry with me, tell me.”
John stepped back a bit, until they barely touched as they danced. His scowling gaze came to rest on Roman and Kristen’s table. “You didn’t waste any time, did you?” he muttered finally. “After all your protests…”
She gasped, stung by his insinuation. “Are you actually *angry* with me for doing what you tried to force me to do in the first place? How in the world can my having dinner with Roman irritate you, when it’s what you demanded that I do?”
He grimaced guiltily. “I didn’t *say* I was angry about it.”
She laughed bitterly. “No, you didn’t say it, but, then, we’ve never needed words for things like that, have we? You’re upset with me for agreeing to have dinner with Roman, and you’re acting like a spoiled, sulky child.”
“I am not,” he retorted, sounding remarkably like five-year- old Brady. They were no longer dancing – but were instead an oasis of stillness in the swaying sea of the dance floor, oblivious to their ever-growing audience, which included a rapt Kristen and Roman.
Marlena crossed her arms over her chest and scowled up at him. “I don’t believe this,” she muttered incredulously. “I can’t believe you have the nerve to be angry at *me*, when you’re here with your ex-lover, who happens to be carrying your child!” With every word, her fury seemed to grow. “You’re a hypocrite, John Black! A complete and utter hypocrite!”
“*I’m* a hypocrite?” he snapped back angrily. “I’m not the one who kept repeating over and over how much I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with my ex-husband, and how hard it was even to have a simple conversation with him. You didn’t look too unhappy when you

were dancing in his arms, Marlena. In fact, you looked pretty damn comfortable.”

“Well, I’m so incredibly sorry that I don’t seem unhappy enough for you, John. Just how miserable do I have to be, anyway? I think maybe we should set down a few guidelines for this little farce you’re determined to put all of us through. Just how awful do I have to feel before you’ll believe me when I tell you that I love you? Just how far is this supposed to go?”
“How far do you want it to go, Marlena?” he taunted, his tone dangerous.
“Oh, don’t even go there,” she retorted furiously. “You *wanted* me to spend time with Roman, and now you’re angry that we’re having dinner together? Just what *did* you have in mind, then? Do you want me to have *sex* with him so I can pick which one of you I prefer, and just get all of this over with?”
He reached out to squeeze her upper arms painfully. “No!”
She wrenched herself from his grip. “You started this, John. You broke things off with me of your own free will. You have *no* right to pass judgement on me for how I deal with it. One word from you could end all of our pain, but if you choose not to say it, then you have to take what comes next.” They stared at each other challengingly. “Well?” she snapped impatiently. “Are you going to end it?”
He blinked and looked away, the ire draining from his features, leaving only the misery. “I can’t, Marlena,” he whispered. “You know I can’t.” Any compassion she might have been feeling for his pain was swamped by bitter anger at his stubbornness. “Fine!” she spat. “You do what you have to do. *I’m* going to go have dinner with my *date*!” She spun on her heel and stalked back toward the table, leaving him alone on the dance floor, stricken. Slowly the stares of the other patrons penetrated his miserable stupor, and he shook himself out of his reverie to follow in her wake.
Kristen rose ponderously from her chair, biting back a smile. Her gaze caught Roman’s and she raised her eyebrows as if to say, See? I told you. He snuck a glance at Marlena’s flushed, angry face where she stood next to the table, tapping her foot impatiently as she waited for Kristen to vacate her seat. He looked back at Kristen and gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

Gotcha! Kristen thought gleefully, giving John a beaming smile as he approached the table. “Are you ready to eat, honey?”

“Sure,” he replied in a clipped, lifeless tone, his eyes everywhere but on Marlena. “Why not?”
Kristen slipped her arm through his and nodded a goodbye to Roman and Marlena, lowering her gaze to keep them from seeing the triumph glittering in her eyes. They left without another word. Marlena collapsed into her chair, sighing.
“Sounds like that’s going to be a hell of a board meeting,” Roman commented after a moment.
Marlena scowled and pinned him with a glare. “Don’t even start,
Roman.”
***
“Are you okay?” Kristen asked as they seated themselves. She tried to sound genuinely sympathetic but didn’t really succeed. Luckily, John was too distracted to notice.
“I’m fine,” he muttered under his breath.
“We could go somewhere else if you’d like,” she offered. “I’m sure seeing them together is painful for you. It must remind you of…well, of all the times she chose him over you before.” She grimaced as soon as the words left her mouth. Great, Kristen! That was incredibly subtle… But her luck seemed to be holding, as John was still lost in his own thoughts.
His lips thinned angrily as he glared into his wine glass. “No. You wanted to eat at the Penthouse Grille, so that’s what we’re going to do.”
Kristen smiled tenderly, picking up her own glass to tap it against his. “Okay. Then I suggest we try and forget about all the things that are making us unhappy, and concentrate on the good things in our lives…like our baby. How about we make a toast to our baby?”
He managed a slight smile. Come on, John, be fair to her. None of this is *her* fault. “Sure.” He picked up his glass, hesitated for a moment, and then offered her a halfhearted toast. “To our son or daughter – may his or her entrance into the world be full of love and happiness.”
She grinned and blinked back sudden tears. Her other hand caressed the foam rubber lump through the fabric of her dress – but in her mind, a baby rested there. At that moment, the thin veil of her sanity began

to tear, but she couldn’t discern the sound over her own hearty endorsement of John’s sentiment. “Hear, hear.” ***

Marlena turned back toward Roman, scowling, and made a low sound of disgust in the back of her throat. Her gaze met his speculative one over the first course of their dinner. “What are you staring at?” she muttered, stabbing at her salad with her fork.
“You,” he replied. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you this angry.”
“Really,” she snapped.
“Yes, really. It reminds me of the Marlena I first met all those years ago, full of fire and stubbornness. It’s…nice to see.”
She rolled her eyes as she speared a cherry tomato. “Are you sure you aren’t just happy that I’m angry with John?”
“No,” he answered, reaching for a roll. She raised an eyebrow. “I’m not saying that I’m sorry about it,” he amended. “But I didn’t ask you out to dinner to talk about John. I wanted to talk about us.”
Her hooded, heated gaze burned into her salad bowl. “There is no ‘us’,” she muttered under her breath.
Roman regarded her silently for a moment. There will be, though, he swore to himself. His glanced flicked to Kristen, who was conversing animatedly with her dinner partner. There will be. ***

“You don’t want dessert, do you?” John asked Kristen as he waved the waiter away who hovered with the dessert menu. “I don’t, either,” he continued, not waiting for her reply as he stuffed a few bills in the folder that held their accounting. “You must be really tired, Kristen. Why don’t we get out of here?”
Kristen sighed, not very eager for their evening to end, but she could see that John was near the end of his endurance. “Okay,” she agreed. “I do seem to need more and more sleep lately. I guess I’m sleeping for two as well as eating for two.”
He nodded and got up from his chair, holding a hand out to help her up. She took it, relishing the feel of his skin against hers.
He snapped the fingers of his other hand. “By the way, Kristen, I forgot to tell you something. I promised Mike that I’d be out of the loft in a couple of days, so you’ll need to come by to make sure you didn’t

leave any stuff there. I’m putting most everything in storage, and you need to ensure that nothing of yours is packed with Isabella’s belongings – I’m keeping them for Brady.”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re giving up the loft?” she asked, flicking a glance toward Marlena. “But what if…well, what if things don’t work out the way you want them to with Marlena? I mean, you two bought the new house together.”
He regarded her for a moment, his face expressionless. “I’m not giving up that house no matter what, Kristen,” he muttered finally. “We promised the kids, and I’m going to follow through on it.”
And you’ll never stop hoping, will you? she thought sourly. She managed a smile as she patted her stomach. “Well, at least you’ll be closer to the two of us. That’ll be nice.”
He averted his gaze from her stomach, grimacing uncomfortably. “Yeah, right.”
Kristen could feel Marlena’s gaze boring into them as they made their way across the restaurant, but John’s steps didn’t falter. Almost there, she thought as they drew near the elevators, but suddenly he stopped in his tracks and turned back toward the other couple’s table.
Roman looked up as he approached, but Marlena’s stare remained fixed on the flower centerpiece. “Doc!” John snapped peremptorily. She stiffened but didn’t look up. “Yesss,” she hissed in a low voice. His jaw clenched. “I just wanted to remind you about Brady’s parent-teacher conference next week. You said you thought both of us should go.”
She nodded sharply. “I remember. I’ll be there.”
He rocked back on his heels silently for a moment. “Fine,” he muttered finally. He turned his back and left.
Roman watched him leave, finally relaxing back in his chair as John and Kristen entered the elevator. “You okay, Doc?”
She threw her napkin down on the table. “I’m fine. Stop asking me that! Let’s just get out of here, okay?”
He reached for the check. “Sure, whatever you say.” The ringing of Marlena’s celphone interrupted his reply.
She pulled it out of her pocket and snapped it open. “Hello, Dr. Evans speaking…oh, that’s too bad…did she?…oh, don’t worry about it, I’m sure they’ll be fine. I hope she feels better…yes…yes…goodbye,

Jennifer.”

He signed the statement with a flourish and raised an eyebrow. “Jennifer?”
She nodded. “Abby’s sick, and the slumber party had to be canceled, so she dropped Brady and Belle off at the house with Sami. I hope they don’t come down with something, too. That would really be the utter limit.” Roman studied the exhausted slump of her shoulders and felt a twinge of sympathy. She looked so incredibly tired. “Let’s go.”

***
The house was silent as they made their way inside. Roman reached for the wall switch beside the door to turn on the light, then changed his mind. The shadowed living room, half-lit by the gleam of an almost-full moon, seemed somehow comforting in its twilit state. “Would you like something to drink, Doc?”
Marlena flopped down on the couch, muttering “Triple Gin” underneath

her breath.
“What?”
“Nothing,” she sighed. “The only thing that could make this day worse would be to extend it into tomorrow by having a hangover. I just want to go to bed and forget today ever happened.”
He sat down on the couch next to her and regarded her seriously. “Everything tomorrow will be the same, Marlena.”
She closed her eyes to keep the tears from trickling down her cheeks.
“Maybe not if I dream hard enough,” she whispered forlornly.
His fingers ached to touch her, to smooth the lines of pain from her beautiful features. Damn John for doing this to you. And damn me, too. As if he were a character in one of his own favorite dreams, he leaned forward and gently covered her lips with his own.
She gasped at the contact, and he used her surprise to his advantage and deepened the kiss.
What is he doing? Marlena thought, frozen with shock. Unbidden, her curiosity chose that moment to surge forth, as her tired mind wondered if this kiss would affect her as his others had so many years ago. She leaned forward slightly.
That was all the encouragement he needed. He slipped gentle hands around her neck, pulling her closer.

Neither of them heard the sound of small feet on carpet as Brady turned and stumbled back up the stairs behind them. He fled down the shadowed hallway to the sanctuary of his room, confusion and fear racing through his mind. Mommy? he wondered, stricken, as he reached for the stuffed bear that had always accompanied him through life, no matter how many different places or caregivers he’d endured. He huddled in the corner of his room, sliding down the wall to curl up in a ball, furious tears streaming down his cherubic cheeks. Daddy?

No one answered his silent plea.
Chapter 64
The low, soft tread of furtive feet upon carpet woke Roman from a fitful sleep. He shot up from the couch, blearily oblivious to his surroundings, and slapped a hand on the coffee table in search of a gun that wasn’t there.
Sami froze in her tracks, halfway between the stairs and the door to the kitchen. “Dad?” she whispered, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear with nervous fingers.
Roman stiffened, then turned his head toward her, still blinking the sleep from his eyes. Slowly his rigid shoulders relaxed, and he took a deep breath. “Good morning, Sami.”
She let out a doubtful, yet somewhat relieved-sounding snort. “Doesn’t look like it. Did you have a bad dream or something?” She gestured toward the hand still splayed on the coffee table.
He grimaced and clenched his fist. “No. I just…don’t sleep very well these days. You startled me.”
Sami waited for further enlightenment, but he said nothing else. She shrugged. “Sorry.”
Roman ran a hand through his unruly mop of curls and sighed. “Not your fault. Don’t worry about it. What are you doing up so early, anyway?
She rolled her eyes. “Making coffee…*very* caffeinated coffee. I didn’t get any studying done last night, which means I only have a few hours to cram for my test tonight. I thought I’d try and get a couple in before Will wakes up.”
Roman frowned. “Can’t Austin look after him? You can’t neglect your schoolwork, Sami.”

His comment automatically raised her defensive hackles. “I guess you’d rather I neglect my son, huh? Well, don’t worry about it, Dad. Will’s going to be at Carrie’s party all afternoon with Austin.” Her tone dripped distaste, and Roman noted that she’d carefully avoided mentioning that it was Austin and Carrie’s *engagement* party – not that he blamed her, he was trying to forget that fact himself. “Anyway,” she continued, “I’ll have plenty of time then. I just thought I’d get a jump on it, that’s all.”

“That’s very responsible of you, peanut.”
She regarded him steadily for a moment, as if trying to discern whether or not he was offering a compliment. “Um, thanks, I guess.” She leaned against the back of the couch and cocked an inquiring brow. “So, how did dinner with Mom go last night?” Her tone was dry with irony; she clearly expected that he hadn’t actually been able to get Marlena to agree to go.
He smiled at the memory of a sweet goodnight kiss. “Fine. It went great, actually.”
Her brow furrowed dubiously. “Really?”
He nodded, still smiling. “We had a wonderful dinner for two at the Penthouse Grille. We even danced a little.” She pursed her lips. “And?”
“And what?”
“Oh, come on, Dad,” she scoffed. “You can’t be suggesting that Mom is over John already, after just one dinner with you. How in the world did you get her to agree to go out with you, anyway?”
He frowned and looked away. “I’m not sure, exactly…and I’m not saying that your mother is over John. Although he himself made a very good beginning of it last night.”
Sami slid down to seat herself on the arm of the couch. “What do you mean?”
Roman raised his eyebrows. “Well, when we got to the Grille, he was already there…with Kristen…and they were dancing.”
She flinched and stared down at her hands. A momentary silence fell. “Kristen’s pregnant with his baby,” Sami mumbled finally. “So he took her out to dinner. So what?”
Her automatic defense of John rankled more than he wanted to admit. “*So* then he picked a fight with Marlena in the middle of the dance

floor. He really upset your mother, Sami, and then he sat down to dinner with Kristen like nothing at all had happened.” Sami said nothing; she didn’t even look up. He sighed. “I don’t understand you lately, Sami. Why are you so opposed to the idea of your Mom and me getting back together? That’s the last thing I would have expected from you.”

Sami bit her lip and closed her eyes. “I’m not the same person I was when you left,” she muttered in a low voice. “None of us are the same
– especially not Mom. You don’t know *any* of us anymore, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t turn us back into the people we were all those years ago. And if you think Mom will *ever* stop loving John, then you’re living in a bigger dreamworld than *I* ever did!”
“I don’t thinks so, Sami!” he snapped back angrily. “I-” A movement by the stairs caught his attention. A pajama-clad Brady stood there, one foot on the bottom step, a battered teddy bear in one small hand. With difficulty Roman managed to swallow his anger and offered the little boy a wan smile. “Good morning, Brady.”
The child’s stare was unblinking, his chin set in a mulish line. Concerned, Sami walked toward him. “Are you okay, Squirt?”
He looked up at her with melting brown eyes. “Want Daddy,” he murmured plaintively.
Sami swallowed. “Oh, honey, Daddy’s not here. But you’ll see him later today at the party, remember? I’m sure you and Will and Belle will all have so much fun with him.”
He looked to be on the verge of tears. “No! I wanna see him now!” Sami reached down and pulled him into her arms. Brady stiffened momentarily, then allowed her to pick him up and cradle him in an embrace. He wound his arms around her neck and turned his head toward Roman, who took an involuntary step backward. The venom in the child’s stare was incredibly disconcerting – he’d never before seen that kind of anger in Brady’s cherubic face.
Brady looked back up at Sami. “I miss Daddy.”
Sami kissed the top of his head, averting her gaze from Roman. “I miss him, too, Brady,” she murmured under her breath.
“Good morning!” Marlena called as she descended the stairs, already dressed in a reserved grey pantsuit, despite the early hour. It reminded Roman ineffably of a suit of armor. Uh oh. Marlena

bestowed a determinedly bright smile upon him, even as her every movement screamed Stay Away! She kissed Sami’s cheek. “Hello, sweetie.” She reached out to ruffle Brady’s hair, but he twisted away and buried his face in Sami’s neck.

Marlena chuckled, oblivious to the child’s anger. “Looks like someone isn’t quite awake yet. You have a test today, don’t you, Sami? Calculus, isn’t it?”
Sami nodded, clearly pleased that her mother had remembered. Marlena made a face. “Yuck, math. Never my best subject, God knows from whom you inherited your facility with it. Maybe it’s just your innate genius.” They shared a companionable grin. “I’m sure you’ll do wonderfully.” She glanced at her watch. “If you have some reviewing to do, I’m sure Chelsea wouldn’t mind looking after Will until it’s time to take the children to the party.”
Sami nodded gratefully. “Thanks, Mom, that’d be great.”
Roman blinked at his daughter in disbelief. Didn’t I just suggest the same thing? And didn’t she just bite my head off?
Sami hitched Brady higher on her hip. “Want some juice, Squirt?” He nodded, and she glanced at Marlena. “I’ll start the coffee.” They disappeared into the kitchen.
An uncomfortable silence fell. Marlena fumbled nervously with her watch, her eyes everywhere but on Roman. “Doc-” he began.

“I can’t give you a ride to the party,” she blurted, cutting him off. “I’m sorry, but Kate left a message that the Board Meeting will be at her house instead of Titan. It doesn’t make any sense to come all the way back here, since I’ll already be there. Can you get a lift from someone else?”
He nodded slowly, his brow furrowing. “I suppose. But, Doc-”
“Good,” she replied, interrupting him again. “I guess I’d better wake up Belle then. I have to get to the hospital early today.”
“Doc!” he nearly shouted. She stiffened, her gaze meeting his for the first time that morning. He softened his tone. “Doc. Why are you acting like this?”
Her eyes flickered. “Like what?” she asked belligerently.
“Like you’re about to jump out of your skin!” he replied, exasperated. “There’s no reason to be nervous around me, Doc. Nothing happened

between us last night that hasn’t happened a thousand times before.” Marlena flinched and closed her eyes. “I know,” she sighed after a moment. “It’s just…” She opened her eyes and met his gaze. “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, Roman.”

*That* doesn’t sound good. “What idea is that?” he asked carefully. “The idea that the ki-…that what happened last night changes things. Changes how I feel, I mean.”
He tilted his head to the side, considering. “Tell me something…Why did you kiss me last night, Marlena?” he asked finally. “*You* kissed *me*!” she retorted, automatically defensive.
“Well, you kissed me back,” he countered.
Her shoulders slumped. “I know,” she murmured. “I was…curious.”
“Curious about what?”
She shrugged. “Curious about whether or not it would feel the way it used to feel, I guess.”
A small silence. “And did it?” He tried not to hold his breath.
Her lip quirked in a wry, pained smile. “You’re a very good kisser, Roman. You always have been.”
That almost made him smile. “Thanks. But that isn’t the issue, is it?” “No.” She sighed again. “I don’t suppose it is. Look, Roman, in spite of the way I have been acting since you’ve returned, I really have no desire to hurt you in any way. I need for you to believe that.” “I do,” he assured her. “But?”
“It felt…it felt *wrong*,” she admitted finally. He winced imperceptibly at the revelation that the best moment in his life in *years* hadn’t been the same for her. Hazel eyes met his, filled with sincere regret. “I’m sorry, Roman.”
“Don’t be,” he replied stiffly. “It’s just been a long time, that’s all. Bound to be at least a *little* awkward at first.”
She shook her head in disagreement, but before she could say any more, the kitchen door opened, and Sami and Brady appeared, coffee and juice in hand. Sami looked from Marlena to Roman. “Are we interrupting something?”
Marlena regarded Roman steadily. “No. Nothing. Nothing at all.” ***
The moment the Board Meeting concluded, Kate Roberts shot up from her chair and stormed out of the living room. Marlena watched her go,

a tiny smile on her lips, as she remembered Kate’s treatment of Sami – which had been abominable, whether well-deserved or not. “Was it something I said?” she murmured under her breath. Her gaze caught on Kristen, who was staring down into her prospectus, trying to bite back a delighted grin. A portion of Marlena’s good spirits began to evaporate as she considered the more personal consequences of her vote to retain Vivian Alamain on the Board of Titan Industries.

Vivian was the first one to reach her, faithful Ivan at her heels. “Thank you so much for your vote of confidence, Marlena. I really appreciate your willingness to make your decision on a business rather than personal basis, and I’m sure the stockholders will be grateful.”
Marlena managed a polite smile. Something about John’s aunt set off alarm bells in her mind, but she was indisputably a very good businesswoman. “You’re welcome, Vivian. Just keep doing a good job and you’ll justify my faith in you.” Her tone held an almost-warning.
Vivian met her gaze and nodded solemnly. “I will. Oh, tell Carrie and Austin I hope they enjoy their party.” She gestured appreciatively at the decorations. “Let’s go, Ivan.” The disappeared out the door to the foyer, to be replaced by a smiling Kristen. Marlena could see John over her shoulder, deep in conversation with another unidentified Board member. Neither of them looked very happy. “Hello, Marlena.”

“Kristen,” she murmured, trying to retain her polite smile.
Kristen’s grin widened. “I must say, Marlena, that I was very surprised when you chose to vote for Vivian. Surely *someone* told you of the abominable way in which she treated Kate and Victor. I know that *John* was appalled when he learned what his aunt had done to them. He’s so very fond of Victor, you know – his former father-in-law, Brady’s grandfather and all that.”
Marlena shook her head slightly. She still found that a bizarre concept. The Victor Kiriakis of 1986 had been one of their most hated enemies. She had genuinely feared for John’s life as the Greek and his goon squad had chased them all over West Virginia, and then pursued them to Stockholm in search of a fortune in treasury bonds. Though John had assured her the man had changed, she still found such a complete turnaround hard to fathom.
“I know exactly how John feels about Victor,” she informed Kristen

quietly. “And if Victor were *here*, I’d have no qualms about him running the company as he saw fit. But *Kate’s* leadership has been disastrous, as any halfway attentive reading of the quarterly reports will show. The stockholders deserve the most competent leadership possible – anything else is unfair to them.”

Kristen shrugged. “I suppose…if you want to look at it that way.” She glanced over her shoulder and smiled tenderly at John. “Somehow, I don’t thinks that’s how John sees it. Do you?”
Marlena froze as John raised his gaze to meet hers. “I don’t know,” she replied, her throat suddenly dry. “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Kristen moved off, murmuring under her breath, “Yes, I guess *you* will.”
John walked over to stand in front of Marlena. She gazed up at him defiantly, meeting his angry glare. “Marlena-” he began, and his use of her first name instead of ‘Doc’ told her just how furious he was, “If you did this because of yesterday-”
“Daddy!” Brady’s shriek of delight as he and his sister ran into the living room caused all conversation in the room to halt momentarily. The two children were followed by a disheveled- looking Chelsea, carrying Will and a bag of baby paraphernalia in her arms. Lucas appeared in the doorway and plucked his nephew from her grasp, then disappeared back down the hallway toward the kitchen. The nanny fluttered her hands apologetically.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Black. I told them to wait, but they were so excited about seeing you.”
“It’s all right, Chelsea,” he assured her, turning Brady upside down over his shoulder, exciting another peal of laughter from his son. Belle clutched at his leg and popped her thumb into her mouth. “I know exactly how they feel. The Board Meeting just ended, anyway, so the party will be starting soon. Don’t worry about it.”
She nodded hurriedly. “Before I go…if I could speak to you about the children for a moment?” Something in her tone caused both their gazes to narrow in on her.
“Of course,” Marlena agreed, casting a quizzical glance toward John. He raised his eyebrows, clearly as puzzled as she was. Carrie and Austin entered the room and made a beeline for them. Carrie’s expression showed definite pleasure at the sight of them standing

together.

“Hey, guys, is the meeting over? Where’s Kate?”
“She’s…well, she’s recovering from the board meeting, I suppose. I think she went into the den. Do us a favor, will you, Carrie? Take Belle and Brady for a minute. Doc and I need to talk to Chelsea.”
“No!” Brady shouted, clinging to his father’s neck. “I wanna stay with you!”
“Son, stop it,” John commanded firmly. “I’m staying right here, I promise. I just need to talk to Chelsea. You and Belle go with your sister, and I’ll see you in a few minutes, all right?”
His lower lip distended into a pout, but Brady knew well the voice of authority. “All right, Daddy. Don’t leave, though, okay?”
John hugged him tightly. “I’m not going anywhere, Slugger.” Reluctantly, Brady allowed himself to be transferred into Austin’s arms, as Carrie took Belle, shooting a questioning glance toward Marlena. They turned back toward the entryway, hoping to distract the children with the decorative silver balloons. “What’s wrong, Chelsea?” Marlena asked.
Chelsea turned from her worried contemplation of Brady, who was ignoring the balloons in favor of looking longingly over Austin’s shoulder toward his father.
“Have…have either of you noticed any strange behavior on Brady’s part lately?”
Marlena’s brow furrowed as she watched her son. “No. Not until this moment, really.”
“He was very uncooperative this morning – very unlike the child I’ve come to know over the years. But, well, I hesitated to chastise him for his behavior because…he seems frightened of something. He would not confide in me, however. He just kept insisting that he needed to see you, Mr. Black.”
John compressed his lips as he gazed at his children. “Maybe…maybe this separation has upset them more than I believed. I told them it was only temporary. I thought they believed that.”
Chelsea’s brow furrowed. “I had considered that,” she admitted. “But, truthfully, they seemed fine with what you’d told them. They are somewhat…*accustomed* to temporary absences on both your parts.” She blinked apologetically for any implied criticism. “I was simply

wondering if something had happened to make them doubt what you had told them.”

They both searched their memories. “I don’t think so,” Marlena ventured after a moment. “Can you think of anything, John?”
John shook his head. “I’m sorry, Chelsea, I really have no idea what could have upset him. But if what he wants is to see me, then maybe he’ll tell me what’s wrong. I’ll ask him after the party.”
Chelsea nodded. “All right. I don’t mean to worry you, but he’s usually such a sweet, cooperative little boy. If something has upset him, I want to do whatever I can to help.” They smiled their appreciation. “I’ll see the two of you tomorrow,” she added as she turned to leave, but froze in her tracks as a piercing scream rent the air.
Carrie whirled around to search out John as Belle began to sob fretfully in her arms. “What was that? It sounded like it came from the kitchen.”
John bolted toward the door, stepping out into the hallway just in time to catch Lucas as he barrelled forward from the direction of the kitchen, his eyes wide with terror, his shirt drenched in red liquid.
A cold ball of fear landed like lead in John’s stomach. He grabbed Lucas’ arm. “What is it? What happened?”
“Call an ambulance,” Lucas choked out as tears began to stream down his parchment-pale cheeks. “It’s Will.” ***

Sami rubbed her tired eyes and reached for her cup of coffee on the bedside table. “Derivatives, derivatives, derivatives,” she muttered under her breath, though in truth, she didn’t really mind them. Something about the cool, clean abstraction of advanced mathematics appealed to her analytical mind. She put the cup to her lips and scanned the page of the book in front of her. It took a few seconds for the lack of liquid to register. Time to make another pot. Groaning, she got up from the bed and headed for the hallway, as the sound of a door opening downstairs filtered upward.
She heard her father ask “What?” in an alarmed tone, and her feet quickened on the stairs. As she reached the bottom, John stepped into view. His face was pale and anxious. “What is it, John?” she asked fearfully.
“I came to pick you up because neither of you had a car. I didn’t want

to tell you what happened over the phone…”

She reached for his arm and held it in a vise-like grip. “What?” she managed through a throat near-closed by fear.
He pulled her into his arms. “It’s Will, Sami,” he whispered as she
stiffened and tears began to roll down her cheeks. “There was an
accident in the kitchen before the party. We need to get to the hospital
right away.”
***
Marlena paced back and forth in front of the nurses desk in the Emergency Room, all her thoughts concentrated fifteen feet away on the little boy behind the concealing curtain. She wanted to be in there with him, but his father, uncle, and aunt were already crowding the doctors in the small room, and she wanted to be outside when Sami arrived, anyway. Kate stood across the room, alternating between worried looks toward the curtain and venomous ones toward Marlena, who neither noticed nor cared.
“Dr. Evans?” a puzzled voice asked. Marlena looked up blankly. “Oh. Dr. Reilly.”

“I thought you had taken the afternoon off to attend some sort of business meeting,” he observed disapprovingly. “I did,” she replied shortly, resuming her pacing.
He sighed, put upon, and continued in a pedantic tone reserved for the very drunk or very young, “Then why are you *here*?”
She squeezed her eyes shut and inhaled deeply, mentally counting to ten. “My grandson had an accident. We just brought him into the ER.” Chagrined, Reilly dropped his baiting tone. “Is he going to be all right?”
Marlena shrugged and turned her back to him, resting her elbows on
the nurses desk and burying her head in her hands. After a moment,
he left.
“Marlena.”
Oh, wonderful. I suppose Kate has decided the silent treatment isn’t sufficient punishment. “Yes, Kate?”
“I want to talk to you about the Board Meeting. I don’t understand how in the *world* you could vote to retain Vivian after everything she’s done! Why-”
“I don’t really think this is the time, do you, Kate?” Marlena cut her off.

“If you had bothered to *ask* my opinion, instead of assuming it, you

would have known how I planned to vote. Or did you simply assume I
would do as you wanted?”
“I-”
Marlena waved off her reply. “Never mind, it’s not important now. All that matters right now is Will.”
Kate had the grace to look mildly ashamed. “Of course.” She sighed and rubbed her forehead. “I don’t understand how he could have gotten hold of that knife. Lucas is *always* so incredibly careful when it comes to Will. He couldn’t love him more if Will were his own son.”
Marlena nodded wearily. “I know. But when it comes to children, accidents happen, no matter how careful you are.” They both turned to contemplate the curtain. “I wonder how it’s going…”
“Mom!” Sami’s shout echoed down the corridor, and Kate and Marlena turned to see her barrelling toward them, John and Roman at her heels. She lurched to a stop on unsteady legs, and John slipped a supportive arm around her waist. She leaned against him clutched at his shirt, her eyes wide with terror. “Will! How is he? How is my son?”
Marlena reached forward to lay a supportive hand on her arm. “We don’t know, sweetie. Mike’s still in with him. Austin, Carrie and Lucas are there, too.”
“Where? Where, *dammit*?!? I have to go to him, right *now*!”
As if on cue, the curtain slid back and Dr. Mike Horton emerged, Lucas, Austin and Carrie trailing behind him. Mike regarded Sami silently, his expression unreadable. Her gaze slid past him to Austin, whose face was a mask of anguish. Lucas and Carrie were crying.
She felt her legs give way beneath her. John caught her as she fell. Chapter 65
Sami’s terrified eyes traveled from Austin’s anguished face to Mike’s and back again. Lucas started toward her, his expression grim, but Carrie reached out and clutched his shoulder, holding him back. Sami stared uncomprehendingly at the stark bloodstains coating his shirtfront, then turned to Mike again. Her voice was almost a whisper through bloodless lips. “Will?”
“We’re stitching him up right now. The wound was fairly deep, but Lucas and Victor’s cook did everything right to minimize blood loss. He did require a transfusion, though.” Mike’s final words carried an

emphasis that Sami missed, but Marlena’s concerned gaze sharpened on his bland expression.

Austin flinched, but Sami didn’t see it. She closed her eyes as she sent a wordless “thank you” up to heaven. Her convulsive grip on John’s shirt eased a little. “Can I see him?” she asked breathlessly.
“Not just yet. He’s still sedated, and we aren’t finished with the stitches yet. Give us about half an hour, then you can see him.”
She nodded, smiling her relief through tear-filled eyes. “Thank you. Thank you so much, Mike.” She looked up at John, then over toward Marlena. “Did you hear that? He’s going to be okay. My son’s going to be okay.”
John gave her a squeeze before releasing her from his embrace, and Marlena reached over to caress her cheek. “That’s wonderful, sweetie. I’m so happy.”
Suddenly Lucas wrenched his shoulder from Carrie’s grip and advanced on Sami. “How *could* you?” he swore fiercely, grabbing her arm and twisting it painfully. “What kind of monster *are* you?”
“L-Lucas?” she stuttered confusedly, as Roman seized Lucas’ trailing arm and pulled him away from his daughter.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he demanded.
Lucas turned on him with wild eyes and laughed bitterly. “What am I doing? What am *I* doing?” His voice rose to a nearly hysterical pitch. He turned his furious gaze back toward Sami, whose confusion had faded into terrified comprehension. She flinched as she beheld the expression on his face.
His gaze narrowed in bitter satisfaction. “You knew it all along, didn’t you, Sami?” he spat angrily. “You knew, but you didn’t say anything, because you don’t care who you hurt as long as you get what you want. You selfish *bitch*!” He raised a threatening hand, but Roman grabbed his arm, wrenching it behind his back to hold him in place.
John and Marlena watched the byplay, frozen in their tracks, as Kate looked on, confused. Austin turned his back on everyone and quietly pondered the ER curtain hanging between he and Will, his expression shell-shocked and hollow-eyed. Carrie stood next to Mike, her hands fisted at her sides, fury emanating from every pore.
“What is going *on* here?” Roman demanded. “This is a *hospital*, for God’s sake. I won’t allow you to treat my daughter like this. She’s been

through enough today.”

“Oh, right,” Lucas snorted sarcastically. “Your poor innocent little daughter.” His tone dripped contempt. “You don’t know a damn thing about your daughter, Roman. Maybe it’s time someone let you in on the truth.”
Roman scowled down at him. “I don’t think I’m interested in anything you have to say, Roberts. In fact, I think you should leave, right now, before I throw you out of here.”
Lucas raised his chin defiantly. “I’m not going anywhere.” He shot
Sami a glare full of malicious satisfaction. “I will not leave my *son*.”
The final word fell like a stone into a well of deafening silence.
“Nooo…,” Sami moaned low in her throat, turning to bury her face against John’s chest. He stiffened and stepped back, staring down at her with horrified eyes. She stood still, her head bowed, her shoulders hunched defensively.
“Sami?” Marlena questioned in a deceptively mild tone.
She clamped her lips together and shook her head vigorously, her eyes never leaving the floor.
“Tell them, Sami,” Carrie commanded threateningly. “Tell them, or *I* will.” She reached behind her to capture Austin’s hand and pulled him forward. He turned around reluctantly, his expression still one of dazed shock.
Sami finally managed to raise her head, her eyes focusing immediately on Austin. Her face crumpled as she beheld his bereft expression. “Oh, Austin…”
“This is where you say you *love* him, isn’t it?” Carrie hissed fiercely. “This is where you say everything you’ve done is because you love him more than anything on this earth.” Her eyes blazed with righteous fury. “You don’t know the meaning of the word love! You *lied* to him, you *drugged* him into sleeping with you, and then you convinced him that *your* child was *his* son, when you knew all along that wasn’t the case.” Her cheeks flushed with anger. “Tell me something, Sami. Did Austin even really have sex with you at all that night? Or was your plan all along to trick him into thinking so and then to pass off his *brother’s* child as his? Was this a plot on your part from the very beginning? Lucas is right – you’re a vicious, cruel, deceitful *bitch*!” “Don’t talk about your sister that way, Carrie,” Roman managed to

choke out. He could barely comprehend the implications of Carrie’s diatribe as he gazed down at his youngest daughter, who had yet to utter a word in her own defense. Her gaze remained locked on Austin, her face drained of all color, her eyes filled with utter anguish. Marlena and John still stood frozen, their expressions appalled – but, tellingly, not disbelieving. “Sami couldn’t have done this,” Roman whispered. It was a plea more than a statement. “Sami?”

Choking back a sob, she turned her back on all of them and fled down the hallway.
Kate finally found her voice. “That little…” she muttered as she started after her.
Marlena caught her arm to hold her back. “Leave my daughter alone, Kate.”
Kate turned to regard her incredulously. “How can you defend her, Marlena? After everything she’s done to Austin, Carrie, Lucas…*you*? My God, does she have to *kill* someone before you’ll see her for who she is?”
“I’m not defending what she’s done,” Marlena snapped. “And Austin, Carrie, and Lucas have every right to feel however they feel, and say whatever they need to. Sami will just have to deal with it. But it has nothing to do with *you*.”
“Austin is my *son*. Lucas is my *son*. I have every right to-” “Torment my daughter her every waking moment? I don’t think so, Kate. Not this time.” Kate opened her mouth, took in Marlena’s set expression, and closed it again. Marlena darted a pointed glance at John, who sketched a half-hearted wave down the hallway. She nodded, and he set off after Sami.
Kate turned to look at Lucas, who was glaring up at Roman, silently daring him to defend his daughter. She reached for Lucas’ arm and drew him aside, speaking softly to him. He finally wrenched his gaze from Sami’s father and turned toward the room that held his son.
Mike suddenly felt extremely out of place. He offered Carrie a shrug and a wan smile. “I’ll just get back to Will.” His gaze flicked to Austin. “I’m…sorry about this, Carrie. I’m sorry for all the pain all of you are feeling. If there’s anything I can do, for any of you…”
She smiled up at him gratefully. “There’s nothing you can do. There’s nothing anyone can do to change all the pain that Sami has caused

everyone.” She bit her lip regretfully. “Sometimes I can’t believe she’s really the little sister I remember growing up, the one who followed me around and wanted to be just like me. Every time I think we know the worst she’s capable of, she tops herself.” She turned to regard Austin contemplatively. “I tried to convince myself that the pain she put us through came out of her love and concern and fear for Will…but I can’t even tell myself that anymore.” She took a deep breath, bracing herself to utter the next, unthinkable words, “I think it’s time I gave up on my sister for good.” A profound silence enveloped the hall. Finally, Carrie looked back up at Mike. “Thanks for everything you’ve done for Will, Mike.”

He smiled down at her with eyes full of heartfelt compassion. “It’s no problem. I’ll see you later.” Her gaze followed him as he left.
Roman raised his head to stare at Marlena, his expression dumbfounded. “Did you have any idea…” His voice failed him as he gave a helpless shrug.
Marlena shook her head wordlessly, the belated full realization of the import of Lucas’ words leaving her as shocked as he. “It never occurred to me to question Will’s paternity. She admitted to *drugging* Austin, after all. I never would have guessed that…” Her voice trailed off as their gazes slid in unison to Lucas.
Austin spoke for the first time since emerging from Will’s room. “Why didn’t you tell us, Lucas?” he asked in a subdued tone. His face was pale.
“I didn’t *know*!” Lucas replied fiercely, his voice cracking with the strain. “I swear I had absolutely no idea! How could you think I would allow her to steal *my* son away from me?”
“But you knew it was possible,” Carrie interjected, sliding a supportive arm around Austin’s waist. “Alone, of all of us, you knew it was possible. Why didn’t you say anything?”
Lucas closed his eyes, pained. “Because I asked her, that’s why. When she first came back, after she ruined your wedding, I asked her, and she said it wasn’t possible. She said she *knew* her baby was Austin’s.” His cheeks burned with humiliation. “I trusted her.”
“Because she’s proven she’s so trustworthy,” Carrie cracked, her voice dripping sarcasm.
Lucas bit his lip and bowed his head. “To me, she was,” he whispered

finally. “I thought I was the one person with whom she would be totally honest….I thought we were friends.”

Silence fell again. Kate finally broke it. “Well, obviously, you were wrong,” she stated flatly.
Lucas hunched his shoulders, his gaze riveted on the linoleum floor. “Gee, thanks, Mom.”
Kate sighed. “I’m sorry, Lucas. But knowing Sami as you do, and knowing how she used Will as a weapon against Carrie and Austin from the moment she dropped her pregnancy bombshell at the wedding, I don’t see why you didn’t at least ask for a blood test. It wouldn’t have taken ten minutes. And it would have spared all of us over two years of pain and misery.”
Lucas’ head snapped around and he glared at his mother. “I missed out on two years of my son’s *life* – two years of hearing him call me ‘Daddy’, of teaching him to walk, of tucking him in at night. How *dare* you act like this has cost anyone more than it has me!” His furious gaze caught momentarily on Austin, and his righteous anger faltered as his brother’s eyes met his. Lucas swallowed uncomfortably and looked away. “I’m sorry, Austin,” he whispered after a moment.
Austin stared at his brother, the shock of the day’s revelations holding
both anger and misery at bay in a morass of confusion. Finally, he
closed his eyes, gathered Carrie close in a desperate hug and buried
his face in her hair. Kate watched them silently. Roman and Marlena
turned to each other in unison, their eyes meeting, full of anguish and
helplessness as they both realized that they could do nothing to help
either one of their children.
Silence fell again.
***
Sami buried her face in the pillows of the couch in her mother’s office, her shoulders shaking with heartwrenching sobs as she tried desperately to erase the image of Austin’s devastated expression from her mind. I’m sorry, Austin. I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you, I swear I didn’t…
She stiffened at the sound of a knock on the office door. Oh, God,
pleasedon’tletitbeAustin, pleasedon’tletitbeAustin…
“Sami?” John called.
She felt relief course through her veins. Slowly she turned around and

raised her gaze to meet his, brushing tousled hair from her eyes. “Hi, John,” she croaked through an emotion- swollen throat.

John leaned against the doorjamb and studied her tear- streaked face. His unwavering stare quickly unnerved her. “Did the doctors say I could see Will now? Is that why you came?”
He shook his head. “Mike said it should be a few more minutes, remember? Don’t you want to come back and wait with everyone else?”
She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Not for all the money in the world, John.” She shook her head and stared down at the hands fisted in her lap. “I don’t think I can face Austin right now.”
They were silent for a moment. “Why did you do it, Sami?” John asked evenly.
She looked up at him, attempting to discern how he was feeling from his tone of voice. Honest curiosity…and something else. What? “Why did I do what?”
“Why did you lie to Austin about being Will’s father?”
She closed her eyes. “I didn’t *lie*, exactly,” she murmured under her breath.
He snorted in disbelief. “What would you call it, then?”
She compressed her lips. “I *believed* Austin was Will’s father, John. I believed it with all of my heart.”
His voice hardened. “Don’t lie to me, Sami.”
“I’m not!” she protested. “I really did!”
He shook his head. “I saw your face when Lucas told everyone Will was *his* son, not Austin’s, and I saw shame, guilt, and regret in your expression – but not shock. The news didn’t come as any surprise to you. You *knew* Austin wasn’t his father, and you were keeping it a secret.”
She ducked her head guiltily. “All right,” she admitted after a moment. “I *did* know – but not from the beginning, I swear it. I actually found out not that long ago, when I got the results from Will’s latest checkup.” She rubbed her hands nervously against her jeans-clad thighs. “Something just clicked in my head. Maybe it was the genetics section we had a few weeks ago in my biology class, or maybe it was just the first time I’d really noticed his blood type. But all of a sudden I realized that Austin could never be the father of a child with Will’s

blood type, regardless of the type of the mother. It’s not genetically possible.”

A flush of anger had begun to creep up John’s neck. “I’m not buying it, Sami. You may have been a bit behind in biology, but we both know you’re a whiz at math, not that it takes that much skill to be able to count to nine. You had to have known that Lucas being his father was a possibility.”
She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head. “No,” she whispered plaintively. “Don’t you understand? I never even considered it. When I found out I was pregnant, I just *knew* the baby had to be Austin’s. It was *fate*, a sign from God or something.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “It showed that we were *meant* to be together. Can’t you understand that?”
“No!” he retorted. “No, I can’t understand. You, of *all* people, know the damage that this kind of thing can do. Didn’t you learn *anything* from what happened with Belle? My *God*, Sami, how could you do this to your son?”
She shot up from the couch, eyes blazing and fists clenched. “I was trying to *protect* my son! I was trying to keep him from losing the only father he’s ever known! I was trying to prevent him feeling rejected, confused, abandoned and unloved. He *loves* Austin, he needs him and he depends on him, and I would do *anything* to keep from disappointing my son.”
“Including depriving Lucas of his child?” John spat back. “And breaking Austin’s heart by convincing him that he’s a father and then snatching it away? How could you do this to a man you say you love and another man you call a friend? Don’t you have any regard for anyone else’s feelings at all?”
Sami bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay. As always when overwhelmed with pain, she took refuge in anger, lashing out at the nearest target. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from you. But, then, why should you understand? You’ve abandoned every family you ever had in your life, haven’t you? The Alamains, Kristen and your baby, me, Eric and Carrie, and now even Mom… You make promises and then forget them like they don’t mean anything at all! No one’s going to walk away from my son like you walked away from us, not while there’s anything that I can do to prevent it.”

“He’s *two* years old!” John pointed out angrily. “He won’t even remember any of it in a few years. But Lucas will always remember missing much of the first two years of Will’s life, and Austin will always have a hole in his heart where his son used to be. You had no right to do this to them, Sami.”

“I was trying to protect my *family*! I was trying to keep us together. *You’re* the one who spoiled any chance for me of having the family I was born with. Austin and Will were the only things I could find to live for after that. Just how many times am I supposed to accept losing the people that I love, huh? How much pain do I have to feel before I get to be happy for a change?”
John’s eyes had darkened with fury until they were almost black. “Don’t pin this one on me, Samantha Gene. For far too long Marlena and I have accepted the blame for your vicious, deceitful behavior, but *no* *more*! It’s time you realized that the things you do are *your* responsibility, and no one else’s.” He shook his finger at her, stabbing forward to emphasize each point. “*You* lied. *You* hurt Austin more than anyone ever has or could. *You* deprived Lucas of his chance to be a father. And *you* deprived Will of the chance to be his son.” His words carried the force of rifle bullets. “*You*! No one else.”
Sami whirled away from him, wrapping her arms around her chest in a futile effort to stem the tide of pain. Tears streamed down her cheeks, but her voice was clear and steady as she fought for control. I won’t let him see how much this hurts me, she vowed. I won’t let him see how much I care. “It doesn’t matter what you think,” she said, enunciating each word slowly and clearly. “I don’t care what you say. You aren’t a part of my life anymore, by your own choice. You aren’t my father, you aren’t my *step*father…you aren’t even my friend.” Her lower lip trembled, but as her back still faced him, John couldn’t see it. “Just leave me alone. Get out of my life.” She clamped her lips together after the last word, choking back a sob.
John flinched. “Kicking me out of your life won’t change the facts, Sami,” he replied after a moment, his voice outwardly as calm as Sami’s had been, though her words had cut him to the bone. “You know I’m right, I can see that you do. What you’ve done is wrong, and there’s no defending it. No defending it at all.”
Sami squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth, but the pain

had become more than she could bear. She knew she was close to her breaking point. I’ll be damned if I let *him* see it! “I said,” she spat grimly, “get out of here. Get *OUT*!” Her voice rose until she screamed the final word, turning to fling her hand toward the door. “Get out of here and leave me alone! I don’t have to listen to you! Get out! Getout, getout, GET OUT!!”

The door swung open with a resounding *SLAM* against the wall. “You heard her, John,” came Roman’s low, grim voice as he appeared in the doorway. “She told you to leave. Now.”
John’s angry gaze never left her face. You know what you’ve done, his expression seemed to say. You know what you’ve done and there’s nowhere to hide. Sami matched his stare for a few tense moments, then lowered her eyes and turned away, blinking back more tears.
John spun on his heel and swept out the door without a word to Roman. The door slammed shut behind him.
Sami raised a hand to her mouth as trembling overtook her frame. This is the worst day of my life…the worst day of my life…the worst day…the worst… A pair of warm, comforting arms slid around her shoulders, and she turned around to bury her face in her father’s broad chest. “Oh, Daddy,” she sobbed brokenly, holding on to him for dear life. “What am I going to do?”
“I’m here, peanut,” he murmured, kissing her atop her silky head. Suddenly he realized that this was the first time his youngest daughter had allowed him to touch her since he’d returned. He squeezed her tighter, relishing the feel of his child in his arms. “I’m here for you, and I’m going to fix everything. You just depend on your old Dad, okay?”
Nodding and crying, Sami finally allowed herself to accept the comfort
of her father’s embrace.
***
“How are you doing, sweetie?” Marlena asked, studying Carrie with concern. Austin had finally collapsed in one of the waiting room chairs. Kate sat next to him, her hand on his arm, speaking in a low voice, but the blank look on his face made it doubtful that anything she’d said had registered. Lucas had disappeared down the hallway in search of his other half-brother, trying to ferret out news of Will’s condition.
Carrie closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead tiredly, leaning back against the nurses’ station. “I don’t know, Marlena. I think I’m still in

shock or something.”

Marlena smiled ruefully. “That’s entirely possible. I think I might be there with you.”
Carrie bit her lip and stared down at the floor. “I guess it must be hard for you,” she murmured after a moment. “To really see what Sami’s become, I mean, up close and personal.” She shook her head slightly. “It still manages to surprise me sometimes, and I’ve lived with it for years now.”
Marlena’s gaze flicked toward Lucas, who was walking back down the hallway, heading toward Kate and Austin. “And you had no idea…” Carrie’s expression hardened slightly. “None.” She sighed. “When I think about what a difference it would have made…” She shook her head again. “There’s no point in trying to rewrite the past, I guess. But I don’t know how Austin’s going to live with this, Marlena. He loves Will so much.”
“That doesn’t have to change,” Marlena observed quietly.
“I know. But it will never be the same.” Her gaze caught on John as he appeared through the opposite doorway. “I guess John would know that better than anybody.”
“Know what?” John asked as he came to a halt in front of them. He frowned, his shoulders tense.
Marlena’s brow furrowed in concern. “Are you all right? Did you find Sami? Roman got worried and went down toward my office to look for you.”
A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I found her, and he found us. They’re together now.” He glanced toward the curtain. “Any news on Will?” “Yes,” Lucas interjected, walking up to join them. “They’ve finished with the stitches and he’s resting quietly. Mike’ll be here in a few minutes to take us to see him.” His expression darkened as he turned to John. “Where’s his *mother*?” The last word was almost an epithet. “She’s with Roman,” he replied evenly. “I’m sure they’ll be here in a few minutes.” He glanced toward Marlena. “I’m going over to Vic’s to see the kids. We still don’t know what was bothering Brady, and I want to reassure them about Will.”
Marlena nodded. “I’ll give you a call when I’m ready to pick them up. I just want to see Will before I go.”
“Right.” He stared down at her for a moment. “Well, goodbye.” He

managed a halfhearted smile for Carrie, then turned to leave.

Marlena and Carrie watched as he disappeared into an elevator at the end of the hall. Carrie turned to study Marlena’s expression. “Things aren’t any better between the two of you, huh?”
Marlena sighed and shook her head. “No. We didn’t have a chance to discuss the blowup at the Grille last night before the Board Meeting. And since I voted to retain Vivian, he now has *another* reason to keep me at arms length.” She turned to regard Carrie with sorrowful hazel eyes. “I can’t bear this, Carrie. I want to be with him so much, it hurts.”
Carrie pulled her ersatz mother into a warm, comforting hug. “I know,
Marlena. I know.”
Chapter 66
Sami awoke slowly, blinking up at the unfamiliar ceiling in bleary confusion. Where am I? she wondered as the scratchy material of her pillow rubbed her cheek. She rolled over on her side and came face to face with her mother’s wall of diplomas. That’s right, I’m in Mom’s office…and Will had an accident. She closed her eyes and collapsed back against the pillows, the events of the previous day crystallizing in her mind. Austin knows…Austin knows Will isn’t his son. *Everyone* knows.
She hadn’t yet been capable of speaking to him by the time they were allowed to see Will the previous evening. Refusing to leave the protective circle of her father’s arm, she’d completed a hurried visit with her sleeping son without ever looking up to meet the gazes of the family members who had remained at the hospital. Both Lucas and Kate had tried to speak to her, but Roman had warned them off with a few sharp words. She’d returned to her mother’s office, unwilling to go home while her son remained overnight for observation. Her father was the only person who’d known her plans. Sami definitely hadn’t wanted Kate, Lucas or Carrie to be able to find her. And Austin wouldn’t even try… She turned her face into the pillow, fighting back a fresh onslaught of tears. He must really hate me now…and I have no one to blame for it but myself. She bit down on her lower lip so hard that she tasted blood. John was right.
The memory of her angry confrontation with John yesterday brought forth another rush of pain. Sami hadn’t meant to say the things she’d

said…but his condemnation had hurt so *very* much. She’d become accustomed to his renewed presence in her life – had come to count on it, even, and his sudden departure had thrown her for a loop. But that was nothing compared to the anguish his vehement disapproval had caused. Nothing she had ever done before in her life had engendered that kind of reaction in her sometimes-father – not her worst behavior as a child, nor her later actions after the affair he’d had with her mother. But he felt responsible for the things I did, then, she realized. Not anymore.

And she’d evicted him from her life last night. The words she’d said – no, yelled, really – echoed mockingly in her memory.
“I don’t care what you say. You aren’t a part of my life anymore, by your own choice. You aren’t my father, you aren’t my *step*father…you aren’t even my friend. Just leave me alone. Get out of my life.”
And he’d left, just as she’d ordered.
Sami drew her legs up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them, curling into a tight ball of helpless misery. Austin’s gone, John’s gone, Mom can’t even really *remember* me, Carrie hates me, the whole family’s disappointed in me, Kate and Lucas are going to try and bury me… She swiped angrily at her tears and pressed her lips together, sickened by her own self- pitying tone. That’s not me, I don’t just sit back and take it, she chastised herself, suddenly determined. All I have left is my son. I *will* *not* give up and lose him, too.
Galvanized, she pushed herself up from the couch and tried to smooth
her sleep-tousled hair and wrinkled clothing. Not that it’ll help, she
thought ruefully, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Good thing Will
doesn’t love me for my looks. She had just opened the door when the
phone rang. Casting a doubtful glance toward the secretary’s empty
chair and the deserted waiting-room couch Roman had claimed last
night, she wavered for a moment, before returning to the desk to pick
up the phone.
“Dr. Evans’ office.”
Her mother’s voice echoed over the line, sounding both sleepy and harried at the same time. “Oh, Sami, honey, I’m glad I caught you. Your father called last night to say you two were spending the night at the hospital on my couches. Are you all right? How’s Will?”

Sami stifled a bitter chuckle. “I’m about as well as I could be, I guess. I haven’t checked on Will yet – I was just walking out the door when you called.”

“Oh. Well, give him my love when you see him. I should be at the hospital in about an hour. I’m just trying to get Brady and Belle ready for the day, but they aren’t cooperating.”
“Really? That doesn’t sound like them. Oh, no, you don’t think – they didn’t…um, *see* Will last night, did they?”
“Oh, no,” Marlena assured her. “Chelsea was still at Kate’s when it happened, so she stayed there with them. But Brady was upset about something all day yesterday, and neither John nor I can figure out what it is.”
Sami stiffened at her mother’s mention of John. Did he tell her anything? “Yes, well,” she offered cautiously, “Brady really, really wanted to see John yesterday morning. He was pretty emotional about it. Maybe the separation is starting to get to him.”
“Maybe.” Marlena sighed deeply. “Oh, this is so ridiculous. I wish that stubborn man would get it through his head…” She sighed again. “I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to go off on a tangent like that. Right now Will is our first priority, so I’ll let you go check on him. Would you like me to bring you some breakfast? I made cinnamon buns for the children.”
Sami grimaced ruefully. Her mother’s breakfast baked goods were notorious. “Uh, no, don’t go to all that trouble. I think Dad and I will probably grab something in the cafeteria.”
“Are you sure? It’s not a problem, Belle and Brady didn’t eat that many.”
I’ll bet. “No, we’ll be fine,” Sami assured her. “I don’t want to make you late for work. I’ll see you later, okay?”
“All right. Bye, sweetheart.” The receiver clicked as her mother hung up the phone.
Sami studied Marlena’s desktop thoughtfully, reaching for a framed picture of John and Marlena with Belle and Brady. She traced their smiling faces with her index finger as she pondered her conversation with her mother. There hadn’t been a hint of censure in Marlena’s voice, just sincere worry for Will and concern over Brady. “I guess he didn’t tell her,” she mumbled under her breath, wavering between

upset and relief. “Because it didn’t matter to him? Or because it mattered a lot?” She bit her lip. “Maybe he’s as sorry as I am. Maybe there’s still a chance…”

“A chance for what?” Roman asked as he strode into the office. He regarded her expectantly.
She flushed and set the picture back down on the desk. “Nothing, just talking to myself. Do you know what time it is? I left my watch at home last night.”
“It’s almost nine,” he informed her. “I’m sorry to do this to you, peanut, but I have to leave now. I need to get to the cop shop. Abe called, and I’ve got my first case.”
Sami looked up at him, surprised. “But I thought-” she cut herself off, though her mind finished the sentence – thought you’d be here for me. He raised his eyebrows. “What?”
“Nothing,” she muttered. “I guess I’ll just ask Mom if I can borrow her car when she gets here.”
Roman shook his head. “No, you don’t need to do that. We can share a cab, and I’ll drop you off at the house.”
“But I don’t know how long it will take for Mike to finish all the paperwork and release Will. I don’t want to make you late.” He blinked, startled, then averted his gaze guiltily. “What?” she asked. “Will’s not here, Sami,” he murmured after a moment.
She felt fear clutch at her heart. “What? What do you mean he’s not here? Of course he is, they kept him overnight for observation.”
He reached for her arm. “Yes, they did, peanut, don’t get all upset. It’s just that he’s been discharged already.”
She pulled her arm away. “What? He couldn’t have been. I’m his *mother*, they need me to do that.”
Roman shook his head. “Lucas and Kate took him to the mansion about half an hour ago.”
“Lucas and *Kate*,” she repeated, nonplussed. “They had no *right* to do that.”
“Lucas is Will’s father,” he pointed out mildly.
She scowled. “That’s not what it says on his birth certificate! And anyway, it’s beside the point. Why didn’t you stop them?”
He shrugged. “Because I thought it was for the best. Will needs some peace and quiet in which to heal, and you need some time on your

own right now.”

She regarded him incredulously. “Who the hell are you to decide that for my son? Or for me? You had no *right*, Daddy.” She headed for the door, brushing past him angrily. He grabbed her arm.
“I am your *father*,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “And it’s obvious to me that you are not capable of properly caring for your son right now. It’s time Lucas took responsibility for the harm he’s done you, anyway. Let *him* take care of his son for awhile.” He shook his head disgustedly. “I cannot believe that both of my daughters got involved with men like Lucas and Austin. Their mother must be so ashamed.”
Sami regarded him silently, a small furrow marring her brow as she considered his convoluted train of logic. “I have *extreme* doubts about that,” she muttered finally, her tone conveying her distaste for Kate. “And I *am* capable of caring for my son, no matter what you think.” The stubborn set of his jaw did not alter. “I *am*,” she insisted. “You can’t see it, can you? Tell me something, Daddy. When you look at me, what do you see?”
“I see my daughter,” he replied after a moment, clearly puzzled by her question. “I see my little girl.”
She sighed and shook her head resignedly. “I thought so.”
“What does *that* mean?”
She bit her lip, staring down at the floor. “It’s just…you don’t see *me*, Daddy. Not the real me, I mean.” She sighed again and shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe it’s my fault, I don’t know. Maybe I didn’t *want* you to see, maybe I still don’t. Maybe I’m afraid you’ll be as disgusted with me as everyone else is.” She raised her head and met his gaze bravely. “But if it will make you see how important Will is to me…then I guess I have no choice.”
“What are you talking about, Sami?” he snapped impatiently.
She swallowed nervously but pressed onward. “Lucas did not *harm* me or force me in any way. I had *sex* with him because I wanted to.” Biting her lip, she inhaled deeply and continued, “And afterward, when I found out Austin had seen us and mistaken me for Carrie, thus believing she’d betrayed him, I blackmailed Lucas into keeping the truth quiet, because I was willing to do anything to get Austin.” He began to shake his head, but she didn’t stop, the torrent of words having almost taken on a life of its own now that she’d begun. “I told

him I’d have him arrested for statutory rape if he told anyone what happened. He didn’t do *anything* to deserve that,” she emphasized pointedly. “But I didn’t care how much I hurt him. All that mattered to me was getting Austin for myself. But, unfortunately, even when Austin believed that Carrie was with someone else, he *still* didn’t want me. So I decided to make sure he would. I *drugged* him, Daddy, and I wore Carrie’s perfume to make him think I was her. That’s why he had sex with me that night – because he thought I was Carrie.”

She paused for a moment, her cheeks burning faintly with
remembered humiliation. “I thought…I guess I thought once we’d
made love that he would see how much better I was for him than she
was.” She shook her head. “But he didn’t. He was *horrified* when he
saw what had happened, and I was so embarrassed. He’d rejected me

after I’d done everything I could to get him. That’s when I ran away. I
was gone for almost five months.”
His jaw fell. “What? Five *months*?”
“Yeah.” Her lip twisted bitterly. “You didn’t have any idea, did you? Guess the ISA didn’t think that minor tidbit was important enough to pass on. I mean, that’s the same time Mom was really, really sick for *months*, on death’s door, even, and they didn’t seem to think *that* was important enough to tell you, either. That’s why no one told her I was gone.” Her gaze flickered momentarily. “When I think about how close she came to dying…” She paused, swallowed, then continued, “But Carrie and Austin tried to find me, and even John hired some private detectives – he was worried about me, I guess, in spite of all he had to deal with at the time. But no one could get anywhere near me. I went to LA, and then Seattle, and that’s where Vivian Alamain found me.”
He frowned. “Vivian *Alamain*?”
Sami nodded. “Yes. She wasn’t out to rescue me out of the goodness of her heart or anything – she had her own agenda, and I had mine. I’d just found out about my pregnancy, and about Carrie and Austin’s engagement from Bella Magazine, and I decided to go home and…” she grimaced “…make an entrance at the wedding. Which I did, fainting at *just* the right moment during the ceremony, and then ‘letting it slip’ about the baby being Austin’s. And it worked. Carrie

slapped him and bailed on the wedding and Austin promised to be there for me and our son.”

Roman listened incredulously to her matter-of-fact recitation. She didn’t even sound particularly apologetic for any of it. “You were alone and *frightened*,” he protested faintly, unaccountably compelled to give her an excuse.
She began to look a bit impatient. “Yes, I suppose I was. I didn’t know anything about having a baby, after all. But that’s not why I did what I did. I did it to get Austin for myself, and to hurt Carrie.”
He stared dumbly at her calm expression. “You don’t even sound *sorry*,” he muttered finally.
She tilted her head to the side, considering. “I don’t suppose I am,” she said after a moment, sounding faintly surprised. “Hmm.” Her brow furrowed. “Well, I’m sorry I hurt Lucas, I guess. And I’m sorry Austin will be feeling the pain of losing Will.” She shrugged. “But I can’t say I’m sorry I tried to get what I wanted – a family of my own. If I’d succeeded I’d be the happiest woman in the world right now. There’s no point in pretending *that’s* not true.” “But your *sister*…”

“Will have a perfect life, with a perfect husband and two or three perfect children,” Sami finished bitterly. “The universe wouldn’t have it any other way for the *perfect* Carrie Brady.” The venom in her voice stung Roman. “If you have some sappy idea about reuniting your daughters, you can just give it up right now, Daddy. I can’t *stand* Carrie, and nothing on this earth is going to change that.” Her lips thinned angrily. “Not that she’ll notice. Not that she’d *care*.”
“Of course, she’d care, Sami,” he protested. “She’s your sister. She loves you.”
“Maybe – but only because she *has* to,” Sami retorted. “Because when you’re perfect, you can’t stop loving your sister, no matter how much you might like to. It’s simply not allowed.” She snorted angrily. “Well, as we’ve already established, I’m *not* perfect. Never was, never will be. So there aren’t any such restrictions on how *I* feel.” She crossed her arms over her chest, her chin lifting mutinously. “Accept it, Dad. There’s not a damn thing you can do about it, because I’ve made up my mind.” She leaned forward, narrowing her eyes. “And there’s also not a damn thing you can do about Will’s presence in my

life, because I’ve made up my mind about that, too. You can’t *convince* me to give him up – not for my own good, and not for his. I am his *mother*, and I love him. I *will* raise him. With or without the help of my family. You *got* that?”

He swallowed, his throat dry with shock. The woman in front of him bore no resemblance to the needy, unsure girl he’d once known – the child whose world had depended on her father’s smile. My own daughter is a *stranger* to me, he realized. A hard, angry, uncompromising stranger. When did this *happen*? How could I *let* it happen? “It’s not entirely up to you, Sami,” he managed after a moment.
Her lip curled. “What does *that* mean?”
“It means,” he said, “that Lucas Roberts is Will’s father. And he happens to be *damn* angry at you at the moment – not to mention how his mother is feeling. Unless I miss my guess, they’re probably plotting out their custody case at this very moment. And considering your list of sins, I’d say they have a very good chance of winning, wouldn’t you?”
He’d expected her to offer a sputtering, worried protest in response, followed by a tearful request for his assistance, but that wasn’t what he received. Instead, her expression hardened into a scowling mask of solid granite. “Kate will *never* get her hands on my son,” she hissed through clenched teeth. “I would *kill* her before I’d let that happen. No one will ever, *EVER* take him from me! No one!” She whirled on her heel and stalked out of the office.
Roman watched her go, feeling faintly sick to his stomach. His daughter had just threatened to kill someone, and as he’d looked into her eyes…I believe she means it. He staggered back against the desk, landing on it with a thump, scattering pencils across the papers on the desktop. Oh my, God. What are we going to do?
***
Marlena’s brow furrowed with concern as she gazed at Paulette Sandene, R.N., who stood behind the nurses’ desk, regarding Marlena patiently. “Sami left? How long ago? Did she leave me a message?”
The dark-haired nurse shook her head. “No, Dr. Evans, I’m sorry. She left about ten minutes ago, and all she said was that she was leaving to get her son. She did seem a little…upset, I suppose, but she didn’t

say why.”

Marlena’s frown deepened. “Leaving to *get* Will? That doesn’t make any sense – he was supposed to be here in the hospital.”
Paulette consulted the computer. “It says here he was discharged this morning.” She glanced back at Marlena. “But he was perfectly fine. I’m sure she’ll call you if there’s a problem,” she offered reassuringly.
Marlena nodded slowly. “You’re probably right. I’ll see them at home later, anyway. Do I have any more messages?”
Paulette smiled. “Just a minute, I’ll check for you.” She ran her thumb along the folders standing in the metal file divider behind the counter. “Thanks.” Marlena reached for her purse and began to dig through it, searching for her dayplanner. She didn’t see the woman walking up to her until she’d already come to a stop. “Hello, Marlena,” Kristen said.

Marlena glanced up to see the other woman regarding her expectantly, a faint smile on her lips. She looked self- satisfied, yet tired, with smudged dark circles under her eyes and hair up in an haphazard ponytail. “Hello, Kristen,” Marlena murmured politely as she wondered why the other woman was even *at* the hospital. Probably a pre-natal visit, she realized, deciding then and there not to even ask, though John’s absence was slightly heartening. She turned back to Paulette, who handed her two slips of pink message paper. “Thanks, Paulette.” The nurse nodded, then left. Marlena began to read her messages.
“I hope the vote last night didn’t cause problems between you and John,” Kristen offered in a achingly sweet tone after a moment, when it became clear Marlena wasn’t going to say anything else.
I’ll bet, Marlena thought. She smiled at Kristen. “Oh, don’t worry about it, Kristen. Actually, John hasn’t mentioned it since it happened.” Not that he’s had a chance to, but you don’t need to know that.
Kristen’s smug grin faltered a bit. “Oh. Well, I’m sure he’s still stunned that you chose to vote for Vivian. He’s probably just deciding what to say.”
“Mmph. Maybe.” Marlena turned back to her messages.
Kristen studied the other woman’s calm expression, the optimism she’d been feeling the past few days slowly ebbing away. Relations between John and Marlena had been as strained as she’d ever seen

them recently, even compared to the months after the revelation of their affair. But, still, they each seemed to possess a deep sense of certainty about their bond with one another, despite scattered moments of uncertainty. She’d been so sure that all she needed was a few days with John away from Marlena to get him to realize that he belonged with her – but that hadn’t happened. And, if she were honest with herself, it still didn’t look very likely. Kristen closed her eyes. No! I won’t believe that! I can’t. She didn’t noticed Laura’s arrival, so deep was she immersed in her anguished reverie. “Hello, Marlena. How’s Will?”

Marlena smiled brightly at her friend. “Hi, Laura. He’s fine and discharged, apparently. I didn’t get here in time to see him. Are you ready for our appointment?”
“Two phone calls and I’m all yours,” Laura affirmed.
“Group therapy?” Kristen inquired in an abstracted voice, smiling weakly. Laura darted a questioning glance toward Marlena.
Briefly, Marlena considered the wisdom of revealing the truth about their sessions. Why not? “No,” she said. “Actually, Laura is helping me with a little project of my own. Mining my memory, so to speak.”
Kristen’s breath caught in her throat. She can’t mean what I think she means. “Wha-what?”
Marlena’s lips curved in a slightly malicious smile. “Laura’s helping me regain my lost memories,” she informed Kristen blithely. “We have high hopes that I will soon remember all the years I’ve lost.” And then I’ll be with John she added silently, an unspoken corollary still somehow heard by all.
Kristen pulled her lips into some semblance of a sickly smile. “How nice.”
“Isn’t it?” Laura offered pointedly, malice gleaming overtly from her sparkling eyes. “See you later, Kristen.”
Kristen stared after them as they walked down the hallway toward Laura’s office. *No!* She *can’t* remember. If she does, John will find out all the horrible things I did to keep him. And he won’t worry about Roman anymore, because he’ll know for sure that Marlena was over her ex-husband before she was shot. They’ll get back together, and there’ll be *nothing* I or Roman can do to stop it. She turned to brace her hands against the counter as her head began to pound. “I have to

do something to stop this,” she muttered under her breath. “But

what?”
***
John rubbed the curry brush along the flank of the chestnut horse standing before him, so lost in thought that he didn’t realize he’d been stroking the same spot for ten minutes. The mare’s head swung around, and she regarded her master calmly, no doubt wondering why he was performing such a menial chore instead of the stablemaster. The horses in the Kiriakis stable were much more accustomed to the presence of the two young children of their owner, rather than the owner himself – who was, admittedly, not much of a horse afficiando.
John’s mind traveled back to a day not all that many years ago, when he’d arranged a tour and a ride for Sami as a much- longed-for birthday present. Horse-mad from the get-go, that was Sami. The hug he’d received in thanks for his gift had nearly strangled him, but nothing could have dulled the exultant feeling in his heart. From then on, anything to do with horses had become the father-daughter activity of choice.
His gaze met the melting brown one of the horse, and John’s lips quirked in a grin. “Wondering what’s up, aren’t you, girl?” he murmured softly, reaching for a carrot. “Wondering what the heck I’m doing here…Well, I can’t say I blame you. I’m wondering that myself.”
The sound of a throat being cleared made him turn toward the stable
doors. Sami stood there in the opening, framed by cold winter
sunlight, a boxy manila-papered package in her hands. She regarded
him uncertainly, a hint of fear in her eyes, though the set of her chin
was determined. “We need to talk.”
***
Laura sucked in her cheeks and made a small sound of frustration deep in her throat as she leaned back in her swivel chair. Marlena sat in the chair across the desk, her eyes closed, deeply under an hypnotic trance, but the answers to Laura’s questions had not been forthcoming. Everything in Marlena’s mind was hazy, foggy, and nebulous, and it was beginning to upset her patient.
Marlena’s hands were fisted in her lap and her teeth worked her lower lip furiously. “Why can’t I remember?” she muttered plaintively as her eyelids fluttered. Her agitation threatened to break the trance.

“Let’s try something else,” Laura offered in a soothing tone, attempting to calm Marlena with her voice. “Let’s draw a picture in your head, all right?” Marlena nodded slowly. “All right. I want you to picture a…a bird cage in your head – a small, domed cage with thin metal bars. Can you see it?”

Marlena nodded again, a small smile appearing on her lips. “Yes. And an orange parrot inside on the perch.”
“Orange, hmm? Interesting. Now, picture the cage growing larger and larger, until it encompasses an entire room. Can you do that?”
A small, worried furrow appeared on Marlena’s forehead. “Uh-huh,”
she agreed uncertainly. “I see it.”
Laura inhaled deeply. Here goes… “What’s in the cage, Marlena?” she asked, trying to keep her tone light and almost succeeding.
“Not…” Her voice hitched. “…Not a parrot. The parrot’s gone. There’s no more orange in the cage.”
What!?! Laura thought, puzzled by the odd non sequitur. “No parrot, okay. But what *is* in the cage, Marlena? What can you see between the bars?”
Marlena was silent for so long that Laura began to despair of this line of questioning bearing any fruit. She opened her mouth to begin the countdown to end the session, but before she could speak, Marlena interrupted. Her voice was high and tight, her breathing coming in small, panicked gasps as she fought to control the images in her mind. “I remember…God help me, I remember.” Chapter 67

Laura tried to remain dispassionate as she studied Marlena’s panicked expression and debated with herself whether or not it was advisable to continue the hypnosis session. “You’re safe here, Marlena,” she assured her friend in a low, comforting voice, reaching out to cover Marlena’s clenched fist with her own hand. “We’re just watching the past, remember? Nothing from it can hurt you now.”
The color had drained from Marlena’s face as the force of memory caused her to screw her eyes tightly shut. Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip so fiercely it was a wonder she hadn’t drawn blood. “It can,” she retorted, almost sobbing. “It *can* hurt. It won’t stop. I can’t *stop* it!” Her voice rose as she became more and more agitated, until the decision Laura had been trying to make became a moot point.

Marlena’s terror ripped her from the hypnotic trance. Her eyes shot open and she jumped up from her chair, her breath coming in heaving gasps.

Laura met her friend’s anxious gaze. “Do you remember what you saw?” she asked in a measured voice.
Slowly, Marlena’s breathing calmed as the reality of Laura’s office bled
through the imaged in her mind. Raising her chin defiantly, she
nodded.
***
John blinked into the harsh sunlight that streamed through the open stable door, his brain refusing to process the sight before his eyes. “Sami?” he asked uncertainly.
Sami let out a breath. “Yeah.” She glanced down at the package in her arms and shrugged. “I went by your office. Janie said you were here, and she asked me to give this to you.”
Oookay, so are we pretending yesterday never happened? he wondered as he dropped the curry brush and patted the mare’s flank. “What is it?”
She shrugged again and held the paper parcel out to him. He took it from her, his confusion evident from his expression. This is going to be harder than I thought it would be, Sami realized as her nervous gaze slid past him to the horse. “Is that Brady’s horse?” she asked, to give herself time to gather her thoughts.
“What? Oh, no, she’s Belle’s. Vic bought her a few days before the stroke – Belle wasn’t quite big enough to ride then, but he said the mare was just too perfect for her to pass up.”
Using the pretense of closer inspection as an excuse, Sami stepped toward him – and, incidentally, the horse. “She’s beautiful. That was really nice of him, I guess.”
“You mean, considering that she’s not really his granddaughter?” John asked lightly.
She automatically bristled, but his tone hadn’t been baiting. He’s as nervous as I am, she realized after a moment, a discovery that made her feel unaccountably better. “No. I mean, it’s just…it’s a horse, not like…I don’t know, a doll, or something. But I guess for people with that much money, it’s not really a big deal to buy someone a horse.”
“It was to him, though,” John murmured quietly, turning to contemplate

the mare. “It *meant* something to him.”

Something in his tone caught Sami’s attention. “You really do miss him, don’t you?” she asked, mildly surprised.
He cocked his head to the side. “Yeah,” he chuckled softly. “I guess I do. Still blows me away sometimes how much things have changed since I first came to Salem. Back then, I’d just as soon have shot him as looked at him.” He reached out to give the mare a gentle pat. “But he helped me live through losing Isabella, and he’s been a great grandfather to Brady…and Belle.” He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “And no matter what, he’s always been in my corner ever since, even when I didn’t deserve it.”
She bit her lip. “When you had the affair with Mom, you mean.”
He nodded slowly, his gaze returning to the mare. “Vic was quite a matchmaker. He thought Doc and me raising Brady together was what Isabella would have wanted. And after – well, after everyone found out, he was the one person…” His voice trailed off and he bowed his head, sighing.
“That didn’t treat you like garbage,” she finished softly.
He didn’t answer. The silence stretched between them, taut with tension. His fingers tightened on the package in his hand, and he blinked down at it, as if only then remembering he held it. “I wonder what’s in here,” he murmured.
“Only one way to find out,” she pointed out, glad for the change in subject.
John nodded and tugged on the end flap of the paper. “Magazines…oh, look, it’s the new edition of Bella.” He pulled out one glossy issue. “These must be the first ones off of the presses. Stacy said she’d send some to the office.” He handed one to Sami, who studied the picture on the cover. John and Marlena, dressed in Yankees uniforms, sat together on a bench, Belle and Brady cradled in their laps. Carrie stood behind them, her arms draped possessively around their shoulders. All of them had huge happy grins on their faces.
“Nice,” she said, her tone a study in bland neutrality. She began to flip through the pages, searching for the article.
“Mmm. The story DeAnn Smith wrote turned out great – she really captured what Isabella meant to everyone and the importance of her

legacy. I think Isabella really would have liked it.”

Sami raised a sardonic eyebrow. “Isabella? Get real, John. She would have been embarrassed out of her mind.”
That observation startled a laugh out of him. “Um, well, maybe you’ve got a point. But it’ll be nice for Brady to have when he gets older. And…it’s just nice to remember sometimes, you know?”
Sami paused on a picture of John and Carrie, her sister captured mid-leap in John’s arms as they both mugged for the camera. Her expression darkened. “Yeah, maybe.”
John studied her face for a moment, considering the play of emotions across her face. “You don’t…*like* to remember the past, do you, Sami?” he ventured.
Her lips tightened. “Some things, I guess. But most things are better left forgotten, don’t you think?” He had no answer for that – as someone for whom most years of life were a fog- shrouded mystery, deliberate forgetfulness would never be a choice. But he was not her, he reminded himself, and maybe for her it was true.
They paged silently through the magazines for a moment. “Can I ask you something, Sami?” John finally asked, watching her hesitate over another picture of Carrie, this time of her holding Brady and Belle. Sami didn’t look up. “Sure.”
“When you were growing up…” he paused and cleared his throat. “When I was raising the three of you…did you ever feel like…well, like I loved Carrie more than I loved you?”
Her fingers froze on the page. “Why would you ask that?” she asked in a strangled tone.
He stared down at a picture of his two children, noting the similarities in their cherubic smiles. So much love between them, just like Carrie and Sami when they were little…Will it change for them, too? “When we were being interviewed for the article, Doc and I were concerned that Brady and Belle would feel…well, that there were *differences* in the way we felt about each of them. That Belle might feel slighted because Brady was Isabella’s real legacy – or that Brady might be hurt that Marlena wasn’t his biological mom. And I was watching Carrie with them the day the cameraman took the pictures, and I just started wondering. I mean, you dislike Carrie *so* much…”
“She’s done plenty of things on her own to deserve it,” Sami muttered

darkly. She sighed, turning to run her fingers through the mare’s soft

mane. “But…I don’t know.” The mare’s sensitive ears pricked under
her ministrations. “Do you…do you know why I loved riding horses with

you so much when I was little?”
He shook his head. “Why?”
She pursed her lips. “Because it was *ours*. I mean, I love horses and everything, but the best part about it was that it was always just the two of us, together.” She exhaled slowly. “Sometimes it seems like that was the only time I had you to myself.”
“I thought maybe it was something like that,” John replied in a low, tired voice. “I’m sorry, Sami.”
She shrugged diffidently. “It was a long time ago.”
He studied her tense shoulders. “That doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt, though.” She shrugged again. “I didn’t, you know,” he continued thoughtfully. “Love Carrie more, I mean. It’s just…” he shook his head, “I don’t know. After your mother died, I sort of shut down, I suppose. She’d been my lifeline, my connection to my own life when I didn’t have any memories of it myself. *She* was the one who first put you in my arms and welcomed me home. And when she was gone, I guess I didn’t really know how to handle it.”
Sami blinked back tears of remembered misery. “You did the best you could,” she offered after a moment.
John swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Yeah, I did. But I also *depended* too much on Carrie, I know that now. She’d promised Doc she’d take care of me, and I let my own grief blind me to how hard that was on her.” He ran a finger over Carrie’s smiling face on the page in front of him. “I let her take care of me, and I let her take care of you and Eric. She tried to put away her own grief in order to do that, do you remember?”
His words brought up uncomfortable visions of Carrie hugging her to sleep at night as they cried out their heartache together. “A little, I guess.”
“I made her grow up a long time before she should have. She was a friend, a *partner* in raising the two of you, instead of the child she should have had a chance to be.” He studied Sami out of the corner of his eye. “And I suppose the added responsibility meant that I *did* treat her differently than you and Eric. But it didn’t mean that I loved

her more.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Sami admitted.
“You shouldn’t have needed to,” he replied. “I know it must have been incredibly confusing for you, because at the same time, I didn’t want you and Eric to grow up – I wanted you to stay the same as you had been when Doc and I were together. I didn’t want to admit to myself that she was missing *everything* about your lives. I wanted you to stay my little girl forever.”
Sami swallowed thickly past unshed tears, her head bowing down until her chin almost touched her chest. “Until I wasn’t your little girl at all,” she concluded miserably. “Until none of us were yours any more.”
He reached a tentative hand out to rest on her shoulder, breathing a small sigh of relief when she didn’t flinch away. Slowly, she turned to face him, raising her gaze to meet his, her eyes bright with unshed tears, gleaming in answer to his own. “You’ll always be mine, Sami,” he vowed, his voice breaking on the final word. He placed his other hand on top of his heart. “Here. Where it matters.”
She choked back a sob and hurtled herself into his arms, her words coming out in a rushing torrent. “I’m sorry, John. I’m so sorry for what I said to you yesterday. I didn’t mean it, I swear I didn’t.”
He kissed the top of her head. “Shhh. I know that, honey. I know. It’s okay.”
She shook her head against his chest. “No, it isn’t. I just – it was too much all at once, you know? Will being hurt, everyone knowing the truth about his real father…I knew that if Austin found out he would hate me. I knew that Lucas would never be my friend again and that Mom and Dad would see what kind of horrible person I’ve become. I just couldn’t face it.” She hiccuped soggily. “But you wouldn’t let me run away.”
He smoothed his hand over her hair. “I know. I’m sorry. It’s just, when I saw the look on Lucas and Austin’s faces…well, I knew exactly how they were feeling. It brought back a lot of bad memories…and I guess I forgot to consider how *you* felt.”
She laughed bitterly. “Why should you have? Why should anyone? You said it yesterday, I did this to myself. It’s my fault, no one else’s.” He hugged her tighter. “Your son was injured. You have a right to time to deal with that without everyone coming down on you. Especially me

– it’s not my place to punish you for what you did to Austin and Lucas.” He heaved a sigh into her hair. “Unless I miss my guess, they’ll attend to that themselves.”

Her hand fisted on his shirt. “I know.” She was quiet for a moment. “Daddy thinks Lucas and Kate are going to take Will away from me.” He smiled wanly. “He doesn’t know *you* very well, does he? If he thinks you’ll let that happen…” He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to criticize him.”
She leaned back to look him in the eye. “Why not? You’re right, he *doesn’t* know me. I *thought* he did, or maybe I hoped he did. I think I wanted to believe that I was the person he thought I was. But…” she took a deep breath, “well, you know how you said you wanted me to stay a little girl? I think he actually *believes* I really am. Or he did before today, anyway.” She swallowed. “He wants me to give Will to Lucas.”
“Well,” he replied carefully, “It may be that sharing custody with Lucas would be the best solution for everyone involved.”
“He’s not talking about sharing custody. He’s talking about giving Lucas full custody. Permanently.”
John stared. “But, why?”
She swiped at the tears on her cheeks. “I don’t know exactly. He said something about Lucas having to take responsibility for the ‘harm’ he did me, and that he didn’t think I was capable of caring for Will. But I think it also has something to do with him not being able to believe that his little girl became an unwed mother at the age of seventeen. Maybe he thinks that if I give Will to Lucas I can somehow go back and relive my childhood and turn out to be the daughter he wants.”
“Roman wants you, Sami.”
“*Roman* doesn’t know what he wants,” she snapped. “Except for everything to be the way it was *years* ago. But he’s doomed to disappointment, isn’t he? Because even if that’s what everyone involved wanted, it’s still not possible. And I wouldn’t go back even if I could.”
John cradled her cheek in his palm, gazing into her pellucid blue eyes. “Really?” he asked, surprised.
Her lip quirked. “Don’t believe me, do you? I’ll bet you thought I’d go back and erase the affair if I could.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “I know what it did to you, Sami.”

She blinked and looked away. “Yeah…but it happened. And if it hadn’t, you and Mom wouldn’t have Belle.” She grimaced. “You know, it’s kind of weird when you think about it – all those months when I prayed for Belle to be Daddy’s, I never stopped to think that it wasn’t an either/or situation.”
He frowned, confused. “What?”
Her brow furrowed as she searched for the right words. “It’s just – well, I was always thinking, ‘I hope the baby isn’t John’s because then it’ll be Daddy’s.'” She looked up at him. “But that wasn’t the case, was it?” Baffled, he shook his head. “I still don’t understand.”
She licked her lips. “Don’t you see? If Belle wasn’t yours, she wouldn’t *be*. If you and Mom hadn’t created her that night, she wouldn’t exist.” A small smile ghosted across her face. “And I could never wish for that. Any more than I could wish that Will didn’t exist. Who knows what would have happened in my life if you hadn’t had the affair? Maybe I’d be the Carrie-clone that Daddy seems to think he wants. Maybe I would have gone to college, or enlisted in the Army, or shaved my head and joined a cult. The possibilities are endless.” She reached for his hand, threading her fingers through his and giving them a warm squeeze. “But I wouldn’t trade Will for anything.”
He nodded, accepting the shade of forgiveness inherent in her reasoning. She was smiling up at him with emotion-filled eyes, and a sudden wave of FatherLove engulfed his heart. He was finally seeing his daughter again. “I understand.”
Her smile widened. “I know you do.” Then her smile faded and she sighed. “But Daddy doesn’t. I don’t think he *can*. That’s why I needed to see you today.”
John drew her over toward the last stall and they plopped down on matching bales of hay. “What can I do for you?” he asked, grimacing slightly as a recalcitrant bit of hay dug through his jeans.
She studied the dusty floor of the stable. “I’m really worried, John,” she murmured finally. “I’ve been thinking about what Daddy said ever since this morning, and I’ve decided that he’s probably right. Lucas is *so* angry at me, and Kate’s always looking for any excuse she can find to make my life hell. I know that’s why they checked Will out of the hospital this morning before I even got to see him. I think they *will*

sue me for custody.” She hugged her arms to her chest. “I can’t lose Will, John. I know I’ve done a lot of terrible things, and maybe I do deserve a lot of karmic retribution, but I…I can’t lose my son.” She glanced up to find him watching her, his expression sympathetic. Bracing herself, she lowered her gaze again and continued, “I know how Dad feels about it. If it came down to a court of law, I’m sure he’d tell a judge that, in all honesty, he thinks my son is better off without me. And he’d mean it, too.” There was a trace of bitterness in her tone. She shook her head. “I don’t know how much weight they’d give Mom’s opinion, since she doesn’t really remember me or what kind of mother I am. I mean, I think she’d support me, but I don’t know how much good it would do.”

“Your mother would support you.” His tone left no room for doubt.
She let out an abortive sigh of relief. “Thanks for saying that. You know, it’s funny, really – Mom’s the one with the amnesia, but she still knows more about me than Daddy does.” She raised her chin and met his gaze squarely. “But neither of them know me the way you do. And in some strange way, I trust your opinion more than my own. Like yesterday – you told me how it was, even when I didn’t want to hear it. You made me face the truth about myself and the things I’ve done. So I’m asking you to be honest with me again.” She swallowed and closed her eyes, her voice lowering to almost a whisper, as she prepared to ask one of the most important questions of her life. “Do you think I deserve to lose my son?”
***
Bo slammed open the door of Abe’s office and crossed the room in two strides, depositing a thick file on his Commander’s desk. He turned back toward the door and stopped, surprised, as his brother entered the office. Roman’s head was bowed as he walked and read at the same time. Paperwork, Bo thought ruefully, The glue that holds the police force together. “Hey, bro.”
Roman started, causing a few drops of coffee to slosh over the rim of his cup and land on his hand. “Bo! Ow, dammit, you startled me! What are you doing here?”
“I work here,” Bo pointed out, trying not to laugh. “I had the final report for Abe on the stuff we got from Stefano’s farmhouse.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed in interest as Bo flopped down into the chair

in front of his desk. “And?”

“Oh, did someone assign *you* to the case? Ow, hey, stop that.” He chuckled and ducked another blow. “No, we didn’t get much. We have a cabinet full of files written in a code no one can crack, various ugly yet incredibly expensive knickknacks, nine sets of unidentifiable fingerprints, and a giant gilded cage.”
Roman’s lips tightened grimly and the smile fell from Bo’s face. “Yeah, I know, bro. It’s not really anything to joke about – I know she went through hell. But it’s over now, and Marlena got away. If there’s any justice at all in this world, she sent Stefano to hell before she did it, too.”
Roman rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I’ve heard the evidence, Bo, and I agree that it looks promising. But we’ve believed Stefano dead too many times before to accept it without undeniable proof. I just wish Marlena could *remember*.”
Bo studied his brother’s expression silently for a moment, mulling over a certain tone in his voice. “You got another reason for wanting that to happen?” he finally asked lightly. “Is this really about Stefano?” “Of course,” Roman snapped. “Who else?”
Something flashed in Bo’s eyes. “Oh, I don’t know. *You*, maybe?” Roman felt a familiar welling of frustration as he glared at his obstinate little brother. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Bo felt a corresponding flash of anger at his older brother’s deliberate ignorance. “It means that *maybe* you want her to remember the past so she’ll dump John and go back to you.” Roman’s jaw twitched, and Bo smirked triumphantly. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
Roman’s fists clenched. “You don’t find it the slightest bit unethical for him to propose marriage to a woman who can’t remember *ten* years of her life, Bo? She has no idea of the pain he caused her. He destroyed *everything*.”
Bo scowled. He was becoming a bit tired of the Shawn-and Roman-Brady tendency to rewrite history. “Did he really, Roman? *Deliberate* destruction? He could have let it slip about the affair any time he wanted, you know. He’s a damn smart guy – he could have figured out a way to do it so Marlena wouldn’t know it was intentional. And after you raked her over the coals and *punished* her with a well-deserved divorce, he could have been right there to pick up the pieces. She

would have let him, too, because she loves him that damn much. But he didn’t do it – he tried to move on with his life and got involved with Kristen. I’ll bet that *did* hurt Marlena, but I’m sure it was nothing compared to the pain she felt when you divorced her and walked out on your family like a spoiled little kid!”

“Oh, am I getting relationship advice from *you*, now?” Roman sneered. “How’s it going with Hope, Bo? Is she all excited about you having a baby with another woman?”
Bo shot up from the chair and slammed it back underneath the desk. He glared at Roman. “Shut up about Hope. You don’t have any idea what’s going on between me and her. You couldn’t even be bothered to stick around long enough to find out if she *was* Hope, remember? You recall when she came back, don’t you? When *John* saved her life and nearly lost his own? That was – what? – only about a year before he saved Marlena from something *you* wouldn’t even have been able to begin to fight.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“*Ask* her!” Bo retorted. “Ask John! Ask Sami! Stop telling everyone you know what they should feel and what they should think when you don’t have one damn clue what any of our lives have been like for three years!” He advanced toward his brother until they were only inches apart. “You act like none of us had a right to live while you were gone. You act like Marlena should have pined away for you like a good little girl, just waiting for you to come back and forgive her for the horrendous sin of not being perfect. For not being as perfect as *you*!” He spat the final word in a tone of utter contempt.
Roman saw the wild anger in Bo’s eyes, noted the vein that pulsed with fury down the side of his neck. His mercurial younger brother had always had a hair trigger, but the intense and abiding rage in his voice spoke of far deeper feeling. All this on their behalf? Damn it, he’s supposed to be *my* brother. “What the hell is your problem, man?”
Bo’s fists clenched and unclenched at Roman’s condescending tone. “You. *You* are my problem. You’re *everyone’s* problem. Try and grab some reality, Roman. Marlena’s in love with John. Get over it!” Bo spun on his heel and stalked out of the office, nearly colliding with Abe, who stared after him in perplexed surprise.
He left the office door cracked open behind him, turning to face

Roman. “What’s going on, Roman? What did you say to Bo?”

Roman shrugged. “Hell if I know. He’s always been impossible to get along with.”
Abe regarded his friend uncertainly. “Oh, I don’t know. He’s settled down a lot since I first met him. I haven’t seen him that angry in a long time.”
Roman’s lip twisted bitterly. “Maybe I bring it out in him.”
“Maybe.” Abe slid into his chair and noticed the file on the desk. “Did he bring this?”
Roman nodded, sighing, and flopped down into his own chair. “He said you didn’t find much at Stefano’s farmhouse – just files, fingerprints, and the cage.”
Abe stared down at the file, his gaze faraway. “Yeah.”
Roman studied his friend’s expression. “Was it-” he asked hesitantly, “Was it bad?”
Abe closed his eyes, wincing, and leaned back in his chair. “It was bad,” he admitted. “Not because it was dirty, or deliberately frightening…it was just *creepy*. He had the room all decorated like it was a museum or something – some of the art and sculpture was worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. And the cage…it was *grotesque*, Roman. He had it furnished with antiques and silk drapes…and the bars were gold…” his voice trailed off. “It’s impossible to describe it, really. But it chilled me right down to my soul.” He rubbed his neck tiredly. “John almost lost it. If Stefano had been there, he’d have been dead before he could have drawn another breath.” He shook his head. “I can’t blame Marlena for not wanting to remember.”
“Who says she doesn’t?” a voice from the doorway asked stridently. Abe and Roman looked up in surprise to see Kristen standing there, looking frazzled, tired, and uncomfortable in a baggy maternity dress. She glanced dismissively at Abe before pinning her gaze on Roman. “She’s seeing Laura right at this moment for that very purpose.” His eyes widened, and she nodded. “We need to talk, Roman.” ***

“Tell me what you remember, Marlena,” Laura instructed in a soothing voice. “Just calm down. Take a deep breath, and tell me.”
Marlena sat back in the chair and inhaled deeply, the tension slowly draining from her rigid shoulders. She frowned, trying to gather her

thoughts. “I…you said to imagine the cage, so I did.” She swallowed uneasily. “The bars…the bars were *gold*, Laura.” Laura nodded.

“And there was music. Opera, I think, one of the ones with crashing cymbals. The lights were low…I can see them gleaming on the bars…” She closed her eyes and shuddered. “I’ll never be able to look at a bird in a cage the same way again.”
Laura tilted her head to the side, considering. “You mentioned a parrot,” she offered after a moment. “An orange parrot.”
Marlena’s brow furrowed. “I did? That doesn’t sound right. There
wasn’t a bird with me.”
“What else?”
Marlena’s fists clenched in her lap, and she grimaced. “I saw a gun,” she admitted.
“A gun,” Laura repeated slowly. “Where?”
Marlena shook her head. “I don’t know.” And I don’t want to know, a rebellious part of her added.
“Concentrate!” Laura snapped, as if she’d read her friend’s mind. “Picture the gun. Where is it? Are you holding it? Is someone else?” “I…it’s not me. I don’t think it’s me. But someone…” “A man? A woman?”
“I don’t *know*,” Marlena replied, exasperated. “I can’t see a face. Just the hands.” She frowned again, her eyes squeezed tightly shut. “But…they’re small…and the fingernails are polished…” She let out a choked laugh and opened her eyes. “They’re *blue*!”
Laura was startled into a chuckle. “I think that does eliminate you as a possibility,” she said. “I can’t quite picture you with blue nail polish.” They smiled at each other for a moment, but then the smile faded from Marlena’s face. “I can’t quite picture Stefano wearing it, either,” she murmured, looking down at her own hands. The knuckles were white with strain. “But that’s it, Laura. That’s all there is. Just a flash of the room, the cage…and the gun.” She raised her gaze to meet Laura’s, and her voice was so faint her friend had to lean forward to catch the words. “Oh, Laura. What happened to me? Why can’t I remember?” Chapter 68
John watched Sami silently for a moment before replying to her question. “Do *I* think you deserve to lose your son? Sami, I don’t

really think a judge would even consider my opinion.”

Sami shrugged. “Maybe not, I don’t know. But I wasn’t thinking about what a judge would say…” She swallowed uneasily. “I just…really want to know what you think, I guess.”
“I-” John closed his mouth and took the time to really consider her question. “Sami,” he eventually began in slow, measured tones, “this is sort of a…*complex* subject for me.” He turned to meet her gaze and regarded her gravely. “You see, I’ve had to spend a lot of time in my life considering what it means to be a parent, to be a part of a family. I think you’ll understand when I say…well, that biology has really turned out to be the least important part of it for me.”
She frowned and nodded uncertainly. “You’re saying…you’re saying that you can’t take my side just because I’m Will’s biological mother…right?”
His brow furrowed. “Not exactly – you could use the same rationale for why I wouldn’t be on *Lucas’* side if you went by that reasoning. I’m just saying that when it comes to being a parent, actions speak a hell of a lot louder than blood.”
She winced and turned away. “And my actions have been horrible, to say the least,” she muttered under her breath. “Okay, I get the picture.”
He reached out to touch her tense shoulder. “No, actually, I don’t think you do. Don’t you see? Even though parenthood isn’t entirely a biological thing, it’s not a competition based on merit, either. Children aren’t a reward for good behavior – if that were true, there’d be a lot more people out there without children. Hell, I suppose your mom and I wouldn’t have Belle, if it came to that.”
She turned back to face him, her expression puzzled. “Then what *are* you saying?”
“I’m saying that whether or not you should have Will in your life is a decision that can only be based on your relationship with him. And from everything I’ve seen, you’re a helluva good mother, Sami. Will needs that. Will needs *you*.” A beaming smile broke out across her face, and John held up a cautionary hand. “But he also needs his father. And I’m the last person in the world to say that Lucas doesn’t have every right to feel incredibly angry with you for depriving him of his son, Sami.”

Her eyes lowered guiltily, and she sighed. “I know. I felt horrible about it, I really did. When I saw the blood tests result and realized the truth, I felt like someone had punched me in the stomach.” She looked up at him. “But I nearly did convince myself to tell him, you know. I probably wouldn’t have before Mom’s accident, but since then I’ve been able to…I don’t know, see things more clearly, I guess. And I thought I could handle Austin hating me and marrying Carrie, because I knew you and Mom would be there for me.” She averted her gaze and bit her lip. “But then you left…” Her attention suddenly snapped back to his face. “I’m not saying it’s your fault,” she blurted out in a rush. “I’m not trying to blame you for my actions anymore, I swear. It’s just that all of a sudden everything was upside down again, and I couldn’t seem to catch my breath. And then Will got cut, and everything spiraled out of control.”

John regarded her appraisingly. “You really had no idea Lucas was his father until recently, did you?” It was more a statement than a question. “Well, that doesn’t make it all right, but it does make it more understandable. I remember how painful it was for everyone involved when we found out about Belle’s parentage, and she was only a few months old. I guess you were afraid of Will going through what you did when you found out I wasn’t your father, huh?”
She shrugged. “I guess…I don’t know. But he’s just two years old. He probably won’t remember any of it in a few years. Austin will still be in his life, only as his uncle, and it’s not like we were living together as a family before. All in all, the whole situation will probably hurt Will less than anyone.” She turned to look at John, her expression fiercely protective. “Unless they take him away from me. I’m the one person who has *always* been with him. He *needs* me!”
“I know,” John replied simply. “What do you want me to do?” ***
Roman watched silently as Kristen rearranged herself on the park bench. He well remembered how awkward pregnancy was – Marlena had joked good-naturedly about it, especially when she’d been carrying the twins. But Marlena had always exhibited the fabled glow that expectant mothers were purported to have. Kristen just looked irritated.
“We could have stayed in the office,” he offered. “Abe wouldn’t have

minded giving us a few minutes of privacy.”

“He would have wanted to know why we were talking, though,” Kristen pointed out.
“He’s wondering that anyway,” Roman replied. “I am, too, actually. What did you mean earlier when you said Marlena was trying to remember her past? I was under the impression that she just wanted to forget all of it. I haven’t seen any sign at all that she wants to remember the ten years she’s forgotten.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want *you* to know,” Kristen retorted, a little nastily. She sighed and rubbed her forehead tiredly. “I’m sorry, Roman. The news just took me by surprise, that’s all. I ran into Marlena and Laura at the hospital, and they told me that Laura’s been hypnotizing Marlena, trying to draw out the memories.” “Have they had any luck?”
Kristen shook her head. “Not that they were telling. But I think it’s only a matter of time before they have some kind of breakthrough. We can’t let that happen, Roman.”
His eyebrows flew upward. “Why not? I think it’d be great!”
She stared at him. “What? Are you nuts? If Marlena remembers, then we lose *everything*, Roman!” Her tone was tinged with desperation. He frowned. “What are you talking about? The last time we talked you said you thought Marlena would come back to me if she remembered. You told me to do everything I could to remind her.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What are *you* talking about? I didn’t say that. I told you to remind her of the bond you two shared when you were married. The *first* time!” She regarded him incredulously. “Why would you think that remembering you divorcing her and leaving town would make her want to be with you again? Frankly, I’d be surprised if she wasn’t still as mad as hell about that!”
“But-” he broke off, perplexed. “You…you said you believed she still loved me.”
She pursed her lips and averted her gaze. “I do,” she finally muttered. “But, Roman…love can be destroyed, you know. When you hurt someone who loves you *enough*…” her expression darkened, “…love can turn to hate.”
Roman swallowed uneasily, disturbed by the look on her face. “I know Doc doesn’t hate me, Kristen. She could never do that.”

Kristen contemplated the bulge of her pregnancy padding with downcast eyes as she debated what to say next. “I-…this is so hard to explain, Roman…” She bit her lip. “How much do you know about the things that happened to Marlena while you were gone?”

His brow furrowed as the change of subject threw him momentarily. “Well, not everything, I guess, but enough. I know that your father hasn’t given up on kidnapping her, and John has protected her from him. And I know she was…*sick* or something for a while, and everyone was afraid she might die.”
Memories turned the corners of Kristen’s mouth downward as she recalled the long, endless, painful days spent in the bedroom of Marlena’s penthouse during the exorcism. I don’t even recognize that woman who gave so much of herself to help Marlena. If only I had known then what I know now, maybe I wouldn’t have tried so hard…
“She *did* die, Roman,” she murmured after a moment. “And without John, it would have been a permanent condition.” Roman’s brows drew together. “I don’t understand.”
She sighed. “I know. This is difficult, but you’ll just have to trust me. I have something to tell you, Roman. Something that will be really hard for you to believe, but you have to try…Because if you don’t, and Marlena remembers everything she’s lost…then you will lose any chance you ever had of getting her back.”
Roman studied her face silently for a moment, then nodded. ***
Henderson scowled when he opened the front door to the Kiriakis mansion and found Samantha Brady standing on the front step. He knew, as any halfway competent manservant would, that the girl in front of him had been an intractable source of pain and heartache for the lady of the house repeatedly during the past few years. Matters had been much calmer of late, until the revelation of young master Will’s parentage had exploded the previous evening. He could sense that events had begun to spin out of control, and that the instructions he’d received from Ms. Roberts would only serve to exacerbate the situation. But he had his orders, and he was prepared to carry them out.
However, he was not prepared for the presence of the man who accompanied her. John grinned cheerfully at Victor’s longtime butler.

“Hey, Henderson. How are you doing?”

“Um, fine, sir,” he sputtered, startled into stepping back from the doorway. Sami took advantage of his surprise and eased her way into the foyer. John followed on her heels, looking faintly bemused.
“We’re here to pick up Will,” he informed Henderson matter- of-factly. “Is Lucas here?”
“What? Ah, no, sir, I don’t believe so. But-”
Sami turned and pinned him with a glare. “Where the hell is he? Will just got out of the hospital, for God’s sake. How could Lucas leave him here alone?”
Henderson’s back stiffened. “He is not alone,” the butler informed her in dignified tones. “Master Will is quite well taken care of, I assure you.”
Sami rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, thanks, Henderson, but I’d like to see for myself, if it’s all the same to you.” “I don’t think so, Sami.”

John and Sami turned toward the stairs. Kate descended, the satisfied smirk on her face faltering momentarily when she caught sight of John. “You won’t be getting anywhere near my grandson, Sami. I will not allow it.”
Sami’s hands fisted against her sides. “You and what army?” she spat. “I have full custody of Will. You have no right to keep him from me. I’m his *mother*.”
“Yes, and God Help Him!” Kate retorted. “If he manages to grow up even marginally sane it will be a miracle! But I’ve sworn to *my* son to do all I can to help him keep *his* son safe. The best thing for Will would be if you were out of his life for good.”
John laid a restraining hand on Sami’s arm. He could feel the fury pulsing through her veins. “You don’t decide what’s best for Will, Kate,” he interjected firmly. “Go on and get him, Sami. I’ll wait down here.”
She nodded shortly and headed up the stairs, brushing past Kate with a none-to-gentle nudge. Kate reached for her arm but Sami slapped her hand away, taking the steps two at a time. Kate seemed undecided about whether to follow; finally, she turned to look at John as she descended the last few stairs. “What in the world are you doing, John? Why in heaven’s name are you here?”

John crossed his arms over his chest, ignoring her baleful glare. “I came here to support Sami.”

“But *why*?” Kate implored him. “You *know* what she did! How can you help her after finding out all that?”
“I’m not defending what she’s done,” John replied. “But she’s Will’s mother. She loves him, she needs him…and he needs her, more than ever right now. Come on, Kate – the last thing a kid needs after he’s been hurt and in the hospital is for someone to keep him from his mother.”
“He has his *father*!” she shot back. “Lucas – remember him? Will’s *real* father, the one who’s been deprived of his child since the day he was born?” She snorted angrily. “I’d think you’d feel a little more sympathy for my son, John, considering Sami did the exact same thing to you a few years back.”
He shook his head. “Don’t twist this around, Kate. This isn’t about me or Belle or the past. This is about what is best for Will.”
She came to a halt right in front of him and poked a finger into his chest. “What’s best for Will is to get him as far away from Sami as possible!” She took a deep breath. “I don’t understand why you can’t see that, but it doesn’t really matter. No judge in the universe would allow Samantha Brady to keep custody of a child after everything she’s done!”
He stepped back to avoid her flailing hands. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that if I were you, Kate. Sami’s perfectly willing to agree to some form of reasonable shared custody. She’s also the only consistent caregiver he’s had during his entire life. I’m not making light of the things she’s done, but she has been an indisputably good mother to Will. I don’t think you’d find it as easy to take him away from her as you seem to think.”
Kate shook her head. “She’s undereducated, unemployed and completely immoral, and she’s alienated almost everyone she’s ever met. Once a judge has been introduced to the *real* Sami Brady, there’s no way he’d ever give her custody.”
His eyes glinted dangerously. “Watch it, Kate. That’s my daughter you’re talking about.”
She gave a snort of exasperation. “No, it *isn’t*. She’s not your daughter, John. Your *daughter* is the child she tried to sell on the

black market. You do *remember* that, don’t you?”

“I remember everything,” he retorted. “And you’re wasting your breath if you think you can turn me against Sami. I raised her for *eight* years, and I couldn’t love her more if she *were* my biological child!” He stopped speaking abruptly and took a deep breath as he tried to calm his anger. “Look, this doesn’t have to turn into an armed battle. Let Sami and Lucas work it out between them. *That* is what would be best for Will.”
Kate regarded him with widened eyes. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You would really help Sami after everything she’s done…” She threw up her hands, exasperated. “Well, it doesn’t matter. Lucas will have the full force of the Kiriakis lawyers arrayed behind him. He has a good job, a stable, consistent home, and a devoted family willing to do whatever it takes to support him.” Her lip curled derisively. “Sami has none of those things, does she? Or did I just not see her parents go up the stairs? Unless I miss my guess, Roman and Marlena probably agree with me.”
“Haven’t you learned not to anticipate Marlena’s actions yet?” he shot back. “Or have you forgotten that she voted to keep Vivian on at Titan? She doesn’t even *know* Vivian, Kate, and she still voted against you. If you think she’ll side with you against her own daughter, you’ve got another think coming.”
“Maybe,” she admitted. “But Marlena won’t make much of a witness, anyway, will she? She can’t remember the last ten years. Roman, on the other hand…he hasn’t seemed too thrilled that Sami’s a mother, has he? I’m sure he’d agree that she’s not capable of responsible parenting.”
John swung around to face the French doors, unwilling to let Kate see his frustrated anger. “Like he’s know responsible parenting if it kicked him in the butt,” he muttered under his breath. Kate smiled. “What was that?”
“Nothing!” He turned back to face her. “Sami doesn’t need Roman to hold on to her son. And we’ll match you lawyer for lawyer and precedent for precedent if that’s what it takes. We could drag this through the courts for years.” His gaze narrowed. “And the person it would hurt the most would be Will. Don’t start us all down that road, Kate. It only leads to a lot of pain for everyone.”

“I didn’t start this,” she retorted. “*Sami* did. But I *will* finish it! And when it’s done, your precious daughter won’t be able to see Will without *binoculars*!”

Sami stepped through the doorway behind her, Will resting
contentedly in her arms, a baby bag slung over one shoulder. She
tilted her head to the side and pinned Kate with a glare. “I don’t think
so, Kate.”
***
“That is the most…*idiotic* story I’ve ever heard,” Roman muttered, glaring at Kristen. “What sort of game are you playing?”
“This is not a *game*, Roman,” Kristen hissed. “We’re talking about my child’s future here. I know how it sounds, but everything I’ve told you is the truth, and I’m not the only one who saw it. If you won’t believe me, ask your mother! Ask Abe! Or Celeste, or Carrie, or Father Francis, or Father Jansen. Hell, ask Stefano if he ever bothers to come back from the dead again! Marlena was *possessed*, Roman. And it took John offering his soul in exchange for hers to save her.”
He turned away from her, shaking his head angrily. “I don’t believe this. I *don’t* believe it!”
“Fine!” she spat. “Don’t believe it! The state of your spiritual faith doesn’t matter to me in the least. The point is, *Marlena* believes it. She believes with all her heart and soul that John fought the devil for her and won. Stack that up against divorce and desertion, and how do you think you’ll come out, huh? I don’t know about you, but it doesn’t look too good to me.”
“Are you saying that John has convinced Marlena that she was possessed by the devil?” he asked incredulously.
“I don’t know if he’s even informed her of the exorcism,” Kristen replied. “But let me tell you something, Roman – if she does remember her lost years, devil possession is going to feature prominently in the highlight reel. John saved her from Satan, and then he saved her from Stefano, repeatedly. And she, in turn, risked everything for him when he was about to be executed for murdering Tony. You have no *idea* what they’ve been through while you were gone, or how it has affected their relationship.”
“If they were so damn close why weren’t they together before she was

shot?” he demanded as an uneasy ball of foreboding uncurled in his stomach. He had known that the months he’d been gone hadn’t been easy ones for Marlena – but he hadn’t in a million years dreamed of anything as bad as this.

“Because of me,” Kristen replied simply, her palm patting the bulge of pregnancy. “Because John loves me. But Roman…now that John has broken our engagement, the only thing standing between he and Marlena and wedded bliss is *you*. And you’ll only remain an obstacle so long as Marlena still has amnesia.” She reached over and placed her hand on his arm. Chilled fingers bit into his flesh. “You have to figure out some way to stop her, Roman. If she remembers, we’re both going to lose everything.”
Roman shook her hand away and shot up from the bench. “I don’t know how in the hell *I’m* supposed to stop her,” he muttered angrily. “She does whatever the hell she wants…she always has.”
Kristen gazed up at him with ruthless blue eyes. “Then you’ll have to convince her that she *wants* to stop.”
Roman closed his eyes and swore under his breath. Without another word, he spun on his heel and stalked away.
Kristen rubbed her hands over her pregnancy padding, a satisfied
smile appearing on her face. “I think Uncle Roman is going to do
exactly what we want him to, don’t you, baby girl? I think we’re going
to get your Daddy back even sooner than I thought.” She leaned over
to rummage within her bag and came up with two knitting needles and
a skein of yarn. The beginnings of a baby bootie trailed from one end
of a needle. Humming a contented lullaby under her breath, Kristen
began to knit.
***
“John,” Sami began calmly, “would you take Will, please?”
“Sure,” John said, crossing the room to gather Will into his arms. The little boy muttered a faint word of protest as he bumped his stitched arm against John’s chest, but soon subsided back into an untroubled sleep. John took the bag from Sami and slung it over his other shoulder. “You ready to go, Sami?”
She shook her head, never taking her gaze off of Kate. “No. I need to speak to Kate for a few minutes. Why don’t you take Will over to the house and show him how his new room is coming along? I’ll meet you

there in a little bit.”

John glanced worriedly from her calm expression to Kate’s angry one. “Sami-”
She squeezed his arm. “I’ll be all right. Please, John…”
He nodded and turned toward the door, Will cradled comfortably against his chest. “I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
The front door had barely clicked shut behind him before Sami whirled on Kate, her eyes blazing. “You will *never* take my son from me!” she hissed in scathing tones. “And if you *ever* pull another stunt like the one this morning, you will *regret* it, I swear!”
“Don’t get too comfortable, Sami,” Kate replied frostily. “You can assemble all the little defenders you want, but the fact remains, you’re not *fit* to be a mother, and any judge in the world could see it. You had better cherish the few moments you have left with him. Lucas is meeting with our lawyers right now, and they’re making plans to *bury* you!”
Kate could see the hint of fear in her eyes when she mentioned Lucas’ name. “I will deal with Lucas,” Sami informed her. “What happens to Will from now on is between him and me. *You* stay out of it!”
Kate crossed her arms over her chest and smiled triumphantly. “Oh, I don’t think so, Sami. I swore a long time ago that I would be the one to bring you down. I wouldn’t miss a minute of it.”
Sami’s expression hardened. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m not afraid of you.”
“Do you think *John* can protect you?” Kate laughed derisively. “You aren’t even related to him. In fact…” an evil gleam lit her eyes, “I think it’s a bit *odd* how attached to you he seems to be. A bit…*unnatural*, shall we say?”
Sami’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “Just what are you implying?”
Kate shrugged airily. “Oh, nothing that hasn’t been implied about ex-priests before on many, *many* occasions. People in positions like John’s are so…*vulnerable*…to all sorts of accusations, don’t you think?”
Sami’s cheeks flushed deeply with anger. “You are *sick*!”
Kate scowled at her. “No. I’m just determined, and *completely* in control here. Give it up, little girl. The game is over and you’ve lost.

Don’t fight me, or you’ll lose what little you have left.”

A slow, malicious grin lit Sami’s face as she reached into her front pocket. “I’m not the one who’s going to lose, Kate,” she murmured flatly as she pulled out a photo and waved it toward Kate. “Recognize this?”
Fear leapt into Kate’s eyes and she raced forward to snatch the picture from Sami’s fingers. “Where did you get this?”
It was Sami’s turn to shrug. “Well, I thought some of Will’s things might have somehow accidently made their way into boxes hidden in the back of your closet, so I felt it was *my* duty as a mother to search them out. Imagine my surprise to find out that you are stupid enough to hide incriminating evidence on yourself in your own bedroom.” She snorted contemptuously. “Haven’t you ever heard of safety deposit boxes? Or maybe getting rid of the evidence? Geez, it’s a wonder you managed to get *this* far without anyone finding out.”
Kate ripped the photograph in half and grabbed for Sami’s pockets. Sami shoved her arm away and laughed. “Don’t bother. *I’m* not the amateur you seem to be. You don’t think I have the rest of the pictures *on* me, do you? They left with Will and John ten minutes ago.” Kate’s eyes narrowed furiously. “I’ll get them back, Sami.”
Sami smirked at her and reached for the cordless telephone on the table. “Oh, by all means, give John a call. Tell him I’m blackmailing you. Ask him to bring them back.” She raised a challenging eyebrow when Kate failed to take the receiver from her hand. “Is something wrong? Don’t you want to call him?”
Kate’s fists clenched and unclenched as she barely managed to restrain herself from pulling Sami’s hair out. “He has no idea what a vicious little *bitch* you are!”
Sami’s smile turned briefly rueful. “Actually, of all my parents, he’s probably the only one who does.” She set the phone down on the table. “But, you see, Kate, John *loves* me, and he loves Will. And when John loves people, he’ll do anything in the world to make them happy.” Her smile fell away and she glared balefully at Kate. “You heard what I said, Kate. You stay *out* of this, or I’ll make you regret the day you ever came to Salem. And you get Lucas to drop this custody suit, or I’ll be giving the Intruder the exclusive of a lifetime.” She turned on her heel and headed for the doorway. “Oh, and Kate?”

she added, her blonde hair flying over her shoulder. She smiled with all the vicious hatred she could muster. “Have a nice *day*!”

Kate blinked back tears of angry frustration as the front door slammed.
“This isn’t over yet.” She crushed the mangled photograph in her fist.
“Not by a longshot.”
***
Abe looked up as Roman opened the door to his office, his curious gaze taking in the angry expression on his friend’s face. “Roman? What’s up?”
Roman strode forward and braced his arms on the commander’s desk, his glare boring into Abe’s startled eyes. “Tell me something, Abe. What do you know about…demonic possession?” ***

Kristen hummed softly as she completed another row of perfect yellow stitches on the baby bootie. In her mind’s eye she could picture her baby girl wearing them as her proud parents gazed fondly downward. “Only a little while longer,” she murmured, giving her stomach a reassuring pat. “Only a little while longer and we’ll be a family.”
She was so lost in her happy reverie that she didn’t hear the quiet footsteps as someone stole up behind her bench. A sudden chill in the air made her look up from her work, just in time to see a dark hood crashing down around her eyes. A sweet, sticky smell enveloped her senses, and, suddenly, the world went black. Chapter 69

“Hello, Mr. Black, Dr. Evans, it’s good to see you again.” The plump, curly-haired kindergarten teacher shook their hands with admirable vigor for such an early hour of the day. “I’m glad we could find a time to meet that was agreeable to both of you.”
Marlena darted a swift glance toward John out of the corner of her eye. He looks utterly exhausted, she thought sympathetically, though the sight of his handsome countenance still tugged at her heart. He clearly hadn’t been sleeping any better than she had. “Well, we’re very anxious to hear how Brady’s doing.”
Mrs. Levy offered them a practiced smile and gestured to the chairs in front of her desk. John maneuvered himself awkwardly into a red plastic chair, silently cursing his lanky frame, so at odds with the size of grade-school furniture. Marlena stifled a fleeting smile as she sank

gracefully into the other seat. She tried not to take it personally when he leaned against the far arm of his chair, as if trying to sit as far from her as possible.

The teacher seated herself behind the desk and regarded them over half-moon glasses. She steepled her fingers together, and some long-forgotten instinct inside of John that remembered Catholic school caused him to straighten his spine automatically. “I hadn’t expected to have very much to tell you,” Mrs. Levy began, her gaze piercing them in turn. “Brady has always been a joy to have in class, a very cooperative, generous little boy.”
A furrow marred Marlena’s brow. She could feel the beginnings of a headache forming behind her eyes. “But…?”
“But recently I have noticed some very disturbing changes in his behavior,” the teacher finished. “I was hoping you might be able to shed some light on the reasons behind them.”
John and Marlena traded a glance. “We’ve noticed it, too,” he finally offered. “But Brady hasn’t talked about it much, and we’re trying not to push him.”
Mrs. Levy cocked her head to the side and regarded them silently for a moment. “Oh, dear,” she eventually sighed. “I’m afraid this is going to be awkward, but it’s probably best just to come right out and say it.” She inhaled deeply and straightened her shoulders, eyeing each of them squarely. “There probably isn’t anyone in Salem who isn’t at least *peripherally* aware of the difficulties your family has faced in recent years. I am aware of your…*accident*…last year Dr. Evans, as well as the absences caused by your kidnapping-” she looked to John “-and your trial, and I’m aware that these circumstances have necessarily created…*instabilities* in Brady’s life that you have had very little hope of avoiding.” She set her jaw firmly. “*However*, I would be remiss in my duties as his teacher if I didn’t attempt to convey to you the problems these instabilities could be causing for your son.” She offered them a brisk nod. “*Now*…it is my understanding from what Brady has said previously that the two of you are to be married soon.” She raised her eyebrows expectantly.

An awkward silence fell. Marlena glanced at John, but he stared resolutely forward. “The, um, marriage plans are…er, on hold for the moment, actually,” she finally murmured as her fingers twisted her

engagement ring distractedly. The muscles in her stomach clenched with dread – saying it makes it seem so final…

Mrs. Levy’s lips thinned. “I see.” She looked from Marlena to John and back again. “May I ask why?”
John shrugged uncomfortably. “We have some problems to work out first,” he replied in a clipped tone, his gaze still focused straight ahead. Something in his tone rang alarm bells in Marlena’s mind – for the first time, he sounded as though he believed they never *would* work things out. The pounding in her head increased in depth and tempo.
The teacher nodded slowly, understanding dawning across her features. “And you’ve told Brady of this?”
John rubbed his hands across the knees of his pants. “No. We aren’t going to tell the children anything until it’s resolved one way or the other.”
Mrs. Levy frowned. “I see. And you believe that it’s not possible that he…became aware of the situation somehow? Children are very sensitive to underlying nuances. He might understand a great deal more than you think.”
John studied her silently for a few moments. “I hear what you’re saying,” he finally murmured, shooting Marlena a brief, distant glance. “I’ll ask him about it this afternoon when I see him. I think he’ll tell me if I’m firm about it.”
The teacher nodded briskly. “Yes. All right, that sounds like a good plan. I’d appreciate it if you would keep me informed of any pertinent developments, in order for me to do my best to help him.” She reached for the green spiral notebook resting on the corner of the desk. “Now…about his schoolwork…” ***
Kristen awoke slowly, disoriented and faintly nauseated. A sour taste filled her mouth and clogged her throat, and her eyes felt gritty, as if she’d slept for days. She could feel the vibrations of the surface upon which she lay – it took a few confused moments to identify the thrumming of a car engine. The black hood still covered her face, its scratchy, smelly cloth producing in her an almost unbearable urge to sneeze. She left it in place, though her hands remained curiously unbound. She could hear the muted faraway rumble of voices, which she assumed came from the front of the vehicle in which she was riding.

Her fingers clutched convulsively at the pregnancy pillow half squashed against the back of the bench seat. We’re all right, little one, she thought comfortingly in an attempt at mental reassurance. We’re all right. Mommy’s just wondering where we’re going… She closed her eyes and licked her dry lips nervously.

And who’ll be waiting for us when we get there… ***
When the teacher’s office door had clicked shut behind them, Marlena turned to John, an expectant expression on her face. “Well?”
He hunched his shoulders and scowled at the decorative fingerpaintings adorning the lemon yellow walls. “Well, what?”
She frowned up at him. “Well, what are we going to do about Brady? He’s obviously much more upset than we’d realized. The behavior Mrs. Levy described is completely unlike him.”
John’s jaw clenched. “I know. And what disturbs me is that this isn’t his usual way of expressing unhappiness, either. He always comes straight to me, Marlena. He tells me what’s wrong and counts on me to make it better. He doesn’t act out like this.” He shook his head. “This really worries me.”
Marlena reached out to lay a hand on his arm, but he backed away and turned to walk down the hall. “What are we going to do, then?” she asked, trying to hold onto her temper as she fell into step beside him. Her earlier headache was threatening to blossom into a full-fledged migraine.
John’s expression was grimly determined. “I’m going to talk to him when Chelsea brings the kids by the office this afternoon for our day in the park. And I’m not going to stop asking questions until he gives me some answers.”
Marlena stepped through the door he held open into the bright sunlight. She winced and shaded her eyes, turning to look up at him. “Would you like me to be there?” She sounded almost hopeful.
He shook his head, not meeting her eyes. “Thanks, but I can handle it. Alone.” He stifled an imperceptible wince at his own harsh tone, but made no apology. “If there’s anything to it, I’ll let you know when I drop them off at the house later.”
“All right,” Marlena agreed slowly, trying to sound as if she weren’t hurt by his dismissal. She squared her shoulders, determined to make one final effort. “Would you like to have dinner at the house? It’s Sami’s

night to cook, and I know she’d love to have you there. Not to mention the kids and I…”

A muscle in his cheek twitched convulsively. “No. I-…No. Sorry.” He rubbed his hand over the back of his neck. “Look, I have to get to the office. I’ll let you know about Brady.”
He set off across the blacktopped playground toward the parking lot. Marlena watched his receding figure through the haze of sudden tears blurring her eyes. He’d never been so purposefully distant with her, not in all the years she could recall. It’s almost like he’s trying to prepare himself to cut me out of his life completely, she realized. That discovery – combined with her knowledge of the ineffectiveness of her attempts to recover her memory and her awareness that Roman had yet to give up on the idea of their being together – caused an almost physical pain to lance through her chest. I’m losing him, she thought despairingly. And she had no idea how to stop it from happening. ***
Marlena shook a few more aspirin out of the small white plastic bottle, completely ignoring the dosage warning on the label that said she’d taken her limit for the day. Her latest session with Laura had left her drained and hurting, and no closer at all to unlocking the memories buried deep in her brain. She didn’t need her degree in psychiatry to discern that Laura felt they’d reached an impasse, and that further sessions would probably avail her of little more than increasing frustration.
She popped the aspirin into her mouth and chased them down with a gulp of tepid coffee. If this keeps up, I’ll have an ulcer for sure, she thought as she massaged her aching temples. Her gaze caught on the picture of John and the children resting on her desk, and another hollow pang assaulted her heart. The only avenue she’d been able to discover back into his life remained closed to her so long as the hypnosis sessions failed to work. Her continued protestations of disinterest in Roman seemed to have little effect on him. And he didn’t look as though he were having such a bad time with Kristen at dinner at the Grille the other night, she thought grimly. Maybe he’s decided he made the wrong choice. Maybe he’s decided that she’s the one he really wants.
She bit her lip, hard, and blinked back bitter tears. Dammit! When did I lose control of my own life? When did I start letting everyone else

decide my future for me? She took a deep breath and reached for the file on the corner of her desk. Maybe her personal life was spinning out of her control, but she was determined to wrench her professional one back on track, starting with her afternoon patient, a suicidal woman desperately in search of a reason to live. If I can’t help myself, maybe I can help her…

A knock on the door brought her out of her miserable reverie. “Yes?” she called.
Roman opened the door a crack and poked his head inside. “Are you busy, Doc?”
She sighed and dropped the folder back down onto the desk. “Not for a bit, actually. Was there something you needed?”
He stepped into the room, his hands clasped behind his back. He almost looks nervous, she realized, puzzled.
“Just thought you might want to grab a bite for lunch. You left without eating breakfast this morning.”
She popped the cap back onto the aspirin bottle with an audible *snap*. “I had a parent/teacher meeting at Brady’s school, and I didn’t want to be late. But I got a bagel and a cup of coffee on the way here, so I’m fine.”
“Doesn’t look like it,” he said, gesturing at the aspirin. “That isn’t much of a meal, Doc. Why don’t you take a break and we’ll go over to the Grille?”
She could almost here his unspoken corollary – And run into John, right, Roman? Want to play a few more head games with him? “I don’t think so,” she snapped. “I have a patient this afternoon that I really need to prepare for. I’ll just get a sandwich from the cafeteria.” She tossed the bottle into a desk drawer and asked somewhat peevishly, “Aren’t *you* supposed to be at work?”
He sank into the chair across the desk, determinedly oblivious to her blatantly obvious hints for him to leave. “Nope. Got the weekend shift. I’m the new guy, you know.” He grinned wryly. “I think Abe’s enjoying this just a bit too much, not that I can blame him.” He slouched back in the chair. “A parent/teacher conference, huh? So how’s Brady doing?” Ordinarily she wouldn’t have answered his question, being as how her son’s state of mind was not really any of his business. But the headache, the frustration and the underlying hurt she’d been battling

all day served to loosen her tongue. “Not well,” she replied. She rubbed her temples again, silently praying for the aspirin to begin its work soon. “He’s upset about something. In fact, he’s been upset for days, and neither John nor I know why. It’s beginning to affect his behavior at school.”

Roman frowned, concerned. “I’m sorry, Doc. Is there anything I can do?” He remembered the bitter anger in the boy’s face a few days earlier. Does it have something to do with me?
She sighed. “I don’t think so, Roman. Look, I’m sorry, but I really have a lot of work to do. I’ll see you later, all right?”
Regretfully, he stood up, his worried gaze taking in her drawn countenance. His intention to discuss the exorcism evaporated in the light of her obvious distress over Brady. It can wait. It’s not like I’m looking forward to it, anyway. His conversation with Abe and a subsequent one with his mother had convinced him that the saga of Marlena’s battle with Satan wasn’t merely a product of Kristen’s imagination, but he was still having trouble wrapping his brain around the idea of demonic possession. But if what Kristen says is true, then her bond with John is even stronger than I thought, and if she remembers what happened… “I heard your seeing Laura about getting your memories back,” he blurted abruptly, then mentally cursed himself for the blunder. Way to ease into it, Roman…
Her fingers froze at her temples and she looked up at him blankly. “What? I-…How did you hear that?”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “Heard it at the cop shop.” That’s not *quite* a lie… Somehow he just knew it would be a bad idea to reveal Kristen’s part in it. “You know how it is with cops and nurses. And our lives are *so* entertaining.”
His sarcastic tone almost startled a laugh out of her, but the thought of strangers discussing her personal business disturbed her. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear,” she muttered under her breath. His eyebrows rose. “Then it’s not true?”
She sighed. Oh, who cares if he knows, anyway? It’s not like it’s working. “It is. It *was*. Oh, I don’t know, it doesn’t matter.”
He leaned forward, bracing his palms on the desk. “Yes, it does, if trying to get your memory back is making you feel the way you obviously feel right now. You can’t afford to endanger your health,

Marlena.”

She narrowed her gaze, surprised. “You *don’t* think I should try and recover my memory? Well, *that’s* a change of tune.”
He couldn’t meet her eyes. “I just…I just realized that my wanting you to remember was more about me than it was about *you*. Sami told me a while ago that the doctors wanted you to regain your memory at your own pace, because they believed your mind was protecting you from traumatic events in the past. I wouldn’t want you to jeopardize your health for my sake.”
Marlena bit back a derisive laugh. “I wasn’t doing it for *you*.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Not that it matters. The hypnosis isn’t working, Roman, and I’m not sure if it ever will. Or if it’s even worth it to try any longer.”
The note of defeat in her tone was heartening. Obviously, matters weren’t going well with John. “Well, I just want you to be safe,” he finally murmured, searching for a prudently neutral response. “I’ll let you get back to work. Call me if you need anything.”
She nodded goodbye without looking up from her desk. He let himself out the door, a relieved smile spreading across his face. Hillary, Marlena’s secretary, regarded him with an expression of confusion. He offered her a friendly nod and left the office, managing with difficulty to keep from humming a happy tune. Crisis averted. He checked his watch and decided to go home for lunch, and maybe check up on Sami. He’d seen very little of her since she’d brought Will home. I wonder why? ***
Marlena darted another glance at her closed desk drawer, sparing a moment to wish longingly that her patient would depart the room so that she could finish out the contents of her aspirin bottle. The long, draining, ultimately unproductive session had left what felt like a entire brass marching band playing in her brain. But Arainna Huffington had yet to leave her psychiatrist’s office, and gulping aspirin in front of a patient was considered almost as bad form as checking your watch every few minutes during a session. Definitely not confidence-inspiring.
Marlena sat back in her chair and silently regarded the despondent woman in front of her. She had vague memories of knowing Arainna from before her enforced five-year hiatus – the woman had been one

of an army of wealthy, generous socialites who did their best to aid the smooth functioning of the hospital by assisting in fundraising, volunteering, and other charitable efforts. Arainna had been the wife of one of the senior surgeons, a genial, distinguished man with a dry sense of humor. Brian Huffington had only been an acquaintance of Marlena’s – but a friendly one – and she recalled that more than once his astute, acerbic comments had dispelled the tension at staff meetings. Marlena had been genuinely saddened to hear of his death. All the more so for the tragic circumstances of it. When Marlena had been acquainted with the Huffingtons before, they had been childless, though she hadn’t known then if it were by choice or by chance. Since Arainna had become her patient she’d found out that their lack had been a source of heartbreak for the couple. Arainna suffered from infertility – Brian, a low sperm count, and together, the possibility of conception had been vanishingly small. A hereditary heart condition on Brian’s part and their status as an older couple had stymied the process of adoption, and they’d resigned themselves to a life without children of their own, instead channeling their energies into helping other unfortunate youngsters as foster parents.

Then, in 1991, a miracle had happened, and Arainna Huffington had found herself pregnant with her first child. No news had ever been received with more happiness, and no child had ever been welcomed into the world with such love. Brianna Huffington, born on July 15, 1992, was a blue-eyed golden-haired charmer, if her pictures were anything to judge by, and she’d immediately become the bright center of her parent’s lives. For four and a half years, they’d felt as if every dream they’d ever envisioned had finally come true.
And then their little bright-haired angel had fallen, stricken by a rare form of childhood leukemia. She’d fought a valiant battle, but, in the end, the pain had been too much, and she had died, leaving a hole in her parent’s hearts that nothing in the world would ever fill. They’d clung to each other during the darkness of those days, not turning away from the one who shared the deepest possible pain, the way so many others would have. They’d lost their little girl, but they still had each other, and together, they would face the future.
And then Brian had died. The strain of those difficult days had weakened his heart, and three months after the death of their

daughter he followed her along her twilight path, leaving Arainna alone behind them. She had buried her husband next to her daughter, grieving but stoic, and her friends had marveled at her strength. They’d returned to their lives, confident that Arainna could cope even with this – hadn’t she proven it marvelously?

Six months later, Arainna Huffington had swallowed thirty- two tablets of her husband’s now-useless heart medication and lain down upon the bed they shared, intending to join her family in whatever lay beyond. She’d been discovered before the medication could do its work, and her friends had been shocked at what she’d tried to do. Why would she kill herself when she had so much to live for? She needed help, they concluded, help to make her see what they already knew.

So now Arainna sat in the chair across Marlena’s desk, staring down at the floor, her shoulders hunched with defensive pain, her gaze dull and lifeless. Her despondent figure bore no resemblance to the sleek, confident woman Marlena remembered, so full of life, laughter, and ideas. She wanted her husband and her daughter, and she saw no reason to go on living without them. And nothing Marlena said to her seemed to make a difference.
Marlena’s hands clenched under her desk. I can’t even imagine how she must be feeling. Yes, she herself had lost a child – two children, actually – and she’d believed her husband dead at one time. But she’d always had a lifeline to tether her to this world – Don, Roman, Carrie, the twins, John… But Arainna had no one and nothing that mattered to her as much as what she’d lost. Her attempt at suicide hadn’t been a cry for help, but the expression of a genuine desire to die. Marlena feared that once the woman had been removed from twenty-four hour suicide watch – which had to happen eventually, she couldn’t be locked up forever – she would find a way to accomplish it successfully. There *has* to be some way to get through to her!
“Are they yours?”
The rough tone of Arainna’s unaccustomed voice snapped Marlena back to the present. She looked up to find her patient staring tiredly at the pictures on her desk, her eyes locked on one framed photo of the two youngest children, especially Belle’s smiling face. “Yes,” Marlena confirmed cautiously. “That’s Belle, and her brother Brady, with their father.” Arainna’s gaze slid to another picture. “Sami, and her son

Will,” Marlena continued. “And that’s Sami and her twin Eric, and their older sister Carrie. That was taken, oh, about twelve years ago, I guess.”

“They’re beautiful,” Arainna murmured, her eyes drawn inexorably back to Belle. “She looks like Bree.”
Marlena bit her lip. “I noticed that,” she agreed softly.
They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and a white- shirted orderly looked in. “Time for Mrs. Huffington’s meds,” he said. “If you’re ready…”
Arainna nodded and carefully put the frame back down on the desk. She glanced at Marlena. “You’re very lucky,” she whispered, before her lashes lowered again, concealing the despair in her eyes.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Marlena called as they left. The door clicked shut behind them, and she sat back against her chair, drained. She’d never met someone so completely alone in all her life. Even John all those years ago, when he’d had no idea of his identity, his past, or his family, had never shown this kind of despair. No matter what happened, he seemed to blaze with a kind of hope and vitality that precluded ever giving up on what he wanted.
Or he used to, anyway… Marlena realized, snapping upright in her chair, shocked. The look in his eyes that morning had been disturbingly close to Arainna’s habitual expression – a distant certainty that no amount of work or effort would ever take the agony away…and an unwillingness to risk the pain of trying. She squeezed her eyes shut. NO! She knew John would never give up on life, not as long as his children needed him. But he can be there for his children without being with you, a niggling inner voice reminded her. He can give up on love without giving up on life…
The questions from her earlier pained reverie suddenly swam into her mind again – When did I lose control of my own life? When did I start letting everyone else decide my future for me?… She looked down at the picture Arainna had just relinquished, and the happy smiles on her children’s faces nearly broke her heart. They’re counting on you, Marlena, she chastised herself. Why are you just sitting here, waiting for something to happen? Why *don’t* you take charge of your life while you still have time? Her fist clenched, crumpling the edge of the file folder she held. The name on the tab glowed starkly black against

the white paper – ARAINNA HUFFINGTON…a woman whose time had run out.

Abruptly she dropped the folder and rose from her chair, a determined gleam lighting her eyes. Squaring her shoulders, she strode from the room without a backward glance. *** “I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the party.”
Carrie’s apologetic voice drew John out of his contemplative reverie, and he turned his gaze from the window of the Titan conference room to look down at his ersatz daughter. “It was a fine party, Carrie. I’m just…tired, I guess.”
“Uh-huh,” she replied dubiously, glancing behind her to see if the crowd had cleared out of the room yet. Two or three people from the Bella staff lingered, snatching extra pieces of cake from the large icinged monstrosity on the sideboard. At her pointed glance they hastily exited. “They were really proud of Isabella’s issue, John. They wanted you to know.”
He turned his back to the window and smiled down at the framed magazine cover he held in his hands. “It did turn out well, didn’t it?” he murmured. “You did a great job, Carrie. I’m really grateful for all your hard work.”
She reached for his arm, squeezing it gently. “It was my privilege, really. But I can tell something is wrong, John. Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. “There’s nothing to talk about, Carrie, and, anyway, you’re the one who’s had a lot to deal with these past few days. Tell me, how’s Austin doing?”
She shrugged and turned her attention to clearing the used paper plates and cups from the conference table. “I don’t know. He’s still in shock, I think, but…”
“But?” he prompted, sliding a stack of plates into the garbage can. She pursed her lips. “He wants to move up the wedding, John. He wants to get married right away.”
John raised an eyebrow. “And you don’t?”
She stared blankly at the table for a moment. “I don’t want to get married to prove a point, John. I don’t want to do it to prove to Sami that she couldn’t destroy us, or hurt us, or damage our love. I don’t want to get married just to hurt Sami, either, to show her I can get the

man she couldn’t. That would be…hollow.”

“But you and Austin love each other,” he pointed out.
She sighed. “Yes, we do. But…well, I don’t know. Maybe this will help explain it-” She took a deep breath. “Last night Austin brought up the possibility of us trying to have a baby sometime really soon.” She regarded John out of the corner of her eye. “I hate the idea that my child would be a replacement for Sami’s.”
“I’m sure that isn’t what he meant, Carrie. Austin’s just in a lot of pain right now. I can understand that.”
“So can I,” she replied. “But I don’t want to get married just to make Austin feel better. That isn’t a very good reason, either. I just think we need some time, and some space, to make sure that we do whatever we choose to do for the *right* reasons. Can you see what I’m saying?” A momentary silence fell.
“Yes,” John finally answered as his mind drew inexorable comparisons to his situation with Marlena. “But you have to be prepared for what that decision might cost you, Carrie. Are you willing to do that if it means losing Austin?” The way I lost Doc…
Carrie sighed again as she dropped the last of the party residue into the trash can. “I don’t want to lose him. But if our relationship can’t take a little time out to think things over…then what are the chances of our marriage lasting, anyway?”
John returned the trash can to its place beside the desk. “I don’t know, Carrie. But I hope everything works out the way you want it to.”
She reached up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, John. Oh, by the way – I promised Mike a few weeks ago I’d help him move his things into the loft, and he mentioned something about it on the phone this morning. Do you-…Are you still planning on living at the new house?”
He nodded, not meeting her concerned gaze. “Yeah. We’ll get the last of my stuff out tomorrow – it’s mostly the boxes of Isabella’s that I’ll be putting into storage. I left a message for Kristen that tomorrow is her last chance to make sure none of her stuff gets packed away. Tell Mike it should be clear by the afternoon.”
She smiled. “Will do.” She bit her lip. “Do you-…Are you sure there isn’t anything you want to talk about?”
He shook his head and enveloped her in a warm hug. “I’m positive,

punkin. You’d better go on and get back to work. I’ve heard your boss is a real slave-driver.”

She laughed. “Oh, yeah, he’s the worst. See ya later, Boss.”
“Bye.”
When she’d gone, he turned back to resume his contemplation of the cityscape outside the window. The sky darkened to red- gold as the sun began to set, burnishing the city with an almost otherworldly glow. He could just make out a glimpse of the river on the far right, though the loft wasn’t visible from his vantage point. He glanced down at the framed cover of the magazine, his fingers tracing the glass over the name on the masthead. Bella. He sighed and closed his eyes. “Well, Izzy B,” he murmured softly, “I’m leaving our home for good soon, and moving on to the next one. I thought I’d be sharing it with Marlena, but I guess that wasn’t meant to be.” He could taste the bitter tang of loneliness in his throat. “I wish you were here, just so I’d have someone to talk to. I feel like I’m going crazy or something.” He blinked back unshed tears. “And I don’t think I can do it alone.”
“Well, whether you’re alone or not, that’s up to you,” a measured voice replied from behind him. He whirled to find Marlena standing in the doorway of the conference room, a determined expression on her face. She raised her eyebrows expectantly. “Isn’t it?” ***
The vehicle into which Kristen had been abducted finally lurched to a gravelly stop after seemingly endless hours of travel. The abrupt cessation of motion startled her out of a light doze. She held her breath as the distant sound of car doors opening and shutting signalled the beginning of the next scene of the little drama she’d found herself enacting. Her fingers clutched convulsively at her pregnancy pillow, and the nausea she’d been fighting back threatened to erupt. Another door opened, this one from somewhere down near her feet, and sweet, clean air wafted up underneath her concealing hood. “Come on, get out!” a low, gruff voice commanded her. Awkwardly, she scooted her way forward on the seat, extending her feet until she felt them touch solid ground. Her trembling hand found the edge of the car door and she emerged slowly from the car. Warm sunlight glittered through the hood, so she knew she was outdoors, but she couldn’t see anything else.
Suddenly a searing light burned into her eyes as someone snatched

the hood from her head. She blinked rapidly and tried to focus, then gasped as a familiar face swam into view. A dreadful sinking feeling settled in the pit of her stomach, and she swallowed back another wave of nausea. “Oh, my God! It’s *you*!” Chapter 70

Kristen blinked through the sunlight-induced tears that blurred her vision. “Bart!” she exclaimed as the man’s face again swam into focus. Bart?!? What in the hell is Stefano’s henchman doing kidnapping me? He sneered at her, then turned his glare on the man standing next to him, jerking a thumb toward the house that stood in the large copse of trees behind them. “Go tell ’em we’re here, would ya? I can handle her.”
Her mouth open, Kristen watched as the unnamed man did Bart’s bidding, though not without shooting a final bitter scowl in Bart’s direction. Recovering from her shock, she rounded on him, spitting venom. “What the hell do you think you’re doing, Bart?!? You’re supposed to work for *me*, remember? *I’m* the DiMera now!”
“Shut up!” he hissed under his breath, pasting a grim smile on his face for the benefit of onlookers. His wary gaze scanned the area around them, and her eyes followed his, taking in her new surroundings. The house standing behind them was an old weatherbeaten colonial surrounded by a forest of oaks. Several cars stood in the circular gravel driveway that led around the front, and a few sinister-looking men milled purposefully about, just out of earshot. Kristen was slightly confused by the fact that no one seemed startled by her sudden arrival wearing a less- than-couture black hood. What is this place?
Obligingly, she lowered her voice, but she didn’t temper the urgency of her tone. “What’s going *on*?”
He reached for her elbow, clutching it with an iron grip. “Well, that’s up to you, isn’t it?” he replied grimly in a low, menacing drawl. “You’d better listen, and listen good, Miz DiMera – that is, if you want to come out of this alive and kicking.”
A sharp retort died on her lips at the expression of deadly earnestness on his face. The man beside her was both incredibly angry and completely terrified, she realized – and that fact caused her nervousness to increase tenfold.
I have a very bad feeling about this.

***

Marlena stepped into the conference room and turned to securely lock the door behind her, intent on avoiding any interruptions of their forthcoming conversation. She looked back at John, crossed her arms over her chest and frowned. “So you’ve decided we have no future together, have you? Why? We had *one* argument, John…”
“It isn’t about what happened at the Grille,” he replied, laying the framed magazine cover on the small table that held the lamp. “It’s not about you voting for Vivian to stay on the board of Titan, either. It’s deeper than that, you know it is.”
Her eyebrows flew up. “*I* know? Why would *I* know, John? The last thing *I* remember, we were taking a little break from wedding plans – at *your* request, I might add – in order to sort out old feelings. And now you’re telling the ghost of your dead wife that you plan to be all alone for the foreseeable future. Mind telling me what momentous event happened to bring about that change? Unless you don’t think I have a right to know, of course.”
His face flushed angrily, and he turned again to gaze unseeingly upon the cityscape. “It wasn’t any *one* thing, Marlena,” he said flatly. “It’s just…I’ve been here before, you know. I know the drill.”
Her gaze narrowed on his tense back. “What is *that* supposed to mean?” He didn’t answer, and she inhaled in sudden comprehension. “Oh. This is about *her*, isn’t it?”
His shoulders stiffened. “Believe me when I tell you this has *nothing* to do with Kristen,” he muttered darkly.
Marlena shook her head impatiently. “Not Kristen. *Her*. The *other* Marlena, the one who hurt you over and over and over again.” Her tone dripped contempt for her unwitting alter ego.
He clenched his jaw and bowed his head, his back still facing her. “She’s not another person, no matter how you say it, Marlena,” he pointed out. “She’s *you*. The *you* that you would be if you remembered the past ten years.”
“No wonder my mind wants to forget her,” Marlena muttered under her breath, too softly for him to hear. She thought for a moment, then raised her voice to answer him. “So because *she* hurt you,” she began, still stressing the pronoun, “you’ve decided that *I* will? And what? You’re heading me off at the pass? A preemptive breakup?”

The trace of scorn in her tone raised his hackles. “She- …*You* picked Roman over me *twice* in the past,” he bit out angrily. “*Twice* I felt as though someone had stabbed me in the gut and left me to die. I won’t go through that again. I *can’t*!”

“You won’t *have* to,” she replied, exasperated by his obstinacy. “I’ve told you – it isn’t about *making* a choice. There *isn’t* one. I don’t love Roman, I love *you*.”
He flinched as though the words were well aimed darts, his expression contorting with anguish as he gazed out into the late afternoon. “I wish I could believe that,” he whispered longingly. “But I can’t.”

The defeat in his tone pierced her heart painfully, but that sensation was overcome by the utter incredulity she experienced at the realization that he would rather concede defeat than risk trying again. How can he give up without even fighting? “Who *are* you?” she demanded. “Where’s the John I know? The one who would never give up on something this important?” He finally turned around to face her, but made no further reply. She studied his drawn, pained countenance. “Is this what *she* did to you? Because if it is, not only do I not want to *remember* her – I think I almost *hate* her!”
He closed his eyes and shook his head tiredly. “Oh, don’t say that, Doc. You just don’t understand.”
Marlena regarded him silently for a moment, then nodded slightly, as though she’d come to a decision. Slowly she reached up and pulled off her earrings, then deposited them into the front pocket of her suit jacket. “Oh, I think I do,” she murmured and began unbuttoning the jacket. “I had a patient today, John,” she informed him conversationally as she peeled of the coat and tossed it to the side.
He opened his eyes at the sound of cloth hitting carpet. His brow furrowed as he watched her, puzzled by her actions. “Oh?”
She nodded, her fingers deftly working the buttons of her blouse collar. “I won’t tell you her name, that’s confidential…but she’s suicidal. She wants to die, John, because she believes she’s lost everything worth living for.”
His throat went dry as she reached the last button on the blouse and shrugged out of it, tossing it to the side as well. She was wearing a thin silk camisole, and he could see the outline of her curves underneath it. “I’m sorry,” he murmured distractedly. “Doc, what are

you-”

“Her only child died,” she continued, cutting him off. Her hands reached behind her back to the zipper on her skirt. “And her husband three months later.” He could hear the faint snick of metal-on-metal, and then the skirt dropped to the floor. She kicked it away, followed by her shoes. His mouth fell open.
Marlena walked toward him clad only in a camisole slip and thigh high cream stockings. “She’s alone, and lonely, and scared and tired,” she murmured, coming to a halt mere inches from him. She gazed up at him with bright hazel eyes. “And she’d rather die than feel the pain.” Her hand reached up to cup his cheek, and he flinched at the contact. “And I recognized something in her face,” she whispered. “Something that I saw in you this morning, and I couldn’t bear the thought that you were feeling anything like the pain she is.”
He could feel the tears gathering, and he blinked, averting his gaze. “I’m sorry about your patient, Doc-”
Her left hand came up to frame his other cheek, and she gently forced him to look at her. “It’s not about her, John,” she continued tenderly. “I will do my best to help her, but all I can do is offer her a chance to find a new future. But you…” She stood on tiptoe to press her lips gently against his in a featherlight kiss. A solitary tear escaped to streak down his cheek. “I can *give* you a future,” she vowed, kissing the moisture away. “The future that both of us want more than anything on this earth. You just have to *let* me…”
His knuckles were white with tension as his hands fisted at his sides, revealing the difficulty he was having keeping control. “I don’t know,” he managed, anguished, his voice cracking with emotion and indecision.
Her fingers tenderly traced the contours of his cheeks as she deliberately rubbed her silk clad form against his chest. He let out an involuntary low moan of pleasure. “We’ve been given a second chance, John,” she whispered persuasively. “More than one. More than our fair share, I expect. My patient lost the love of her life, through no fault of her own, and there’s nothing she can do to change it. But we…” she paused, capturing his lips with hers for a deeper, more sensuous kiss, “…we have the chance of lifetime. All we need to do is find the courage to embrace it.” Her hands slid down his face to

twine around his neck, pulling him toward her. “Embrace it, John,” she murmured, her eyes seeing through the pain in his to his very soul. “Embrace *me*…”

John moaned low in his throat, his arms coming around to crush her to him almost violently, his lips descending on hers for a voracious kiss. “Yes,” he murmured thickly, his hands caressing her body through the silk of the camisole. “Yes.”
Her nimble fingers made short work of his necktie, tossing it away with no thought to where it might land. She attacked the buttons on his shirt next, ripping a few of them away completely in her haste to undress him. His lips trailed down her throat to her chest, sending hot sparks of fire up her nerve endings. “Yes…” she agreed, conscious thought fading away as instinct took over, “…oh, *yes*, John…” She pulled the shirt down and flung it away, then moved on to his belt, fumbling with the clasp.
His hands moved up under the slip to the top of one stocking, and he eased his fingers underneath it, pushing it down her leg. At the same time she pulled the belt from the belt loops and let it drop to the floor, her fingers already at the button of his trousers. He loosened the other stocking as she unzipped his pants, and they fell to the floor at the same time. They kicked the offending garments away and John rounded on her, pushing her up against the wall and covering her lips with his again. His tongue plunged inside in a carnal kiss, and she could feel his raging desire as he pressed up against her. His superheated flesh formed a delicious contrast to the smooth cool plaster at her back.
Her hands roamed down his naked back, her nails raking the skin as she fought to pull him closer still. “Mine!” she gasped into his ear as his dexterous fingers worked the straps of her camisole down her shoulders. “You’re *mine*!”
“Yours,” he agreed thickly as he pulled the offending material away. “Yours, yours, yours…*mine*…MINE!” His lips descended downward. She gasped at the intimate contact, the heat of desire nearly driving her wild. Her desperate fingers hooked underneath the waistband of his boxers and shoved them away. He stumbled out of them as she brought her legs up around his waist. He pressed her backwards against the wall, raising his gaze to meet hers. Two pairs of eyes

gleamed, heavy-lidded with passion. “Ours,” he whispered, and he

saw the flicker of agreement in her expression before he proceeded to
kiss her senseless.
***
Roman approached the front door of the house just as Lucas was departing through it, Will resting comfortably in his arms. Sami appeared in the doorway behind him, holding out a bag of Will’s things for Lucas to take with him. “Hi, Dad,” she offered, before resuming her litany of instructions. Lucas was regarding her with an expression of barely-concealed loathing, but Sami ignored it.
“He just woke up from his nap, so he won’t need any more sleep until bedtime. Oh, and it’s my night to cook dinner here, so have him back by seven, would you?” She leaned forward and tickled Will gently. “We’re having spaghetti, aren’t we, Will? You like that, don’t you?”
“‘Ghetti!” he sang agreeably, reaching up to give her a smacking kiss on the cheek.
“You’re welcome to join us, Lucas,” she offered equably.
“No thanks,” he spat. “God knows what you might put in it. And I’ll find out what you said to my Mom yesterday, Sami. You can bet on it.” She regarded him with innocent blue eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about, Lucas. I’ll see you later. You two have a good time.” Lucas turned and stormed down the front sidewalk. Will waved goodbye over his shoulder. Roman gazed after them thoughtfully for a moment, then entered the house, closing the door behind him. “Sami?” Sami paused on the stairs and turned back toward the living room. Brady silently watched them both from over near the fireplace, a small orange foam basketball clutched in his hands. “What was that all about, Sami? What did he mean about Kate?”
She shrugged dismissively. “He’s angry at me, Dad, just like you said he was, remember? And he’s confused because Kate changed her mind about supporting him in a custody battle against me.”
He frowned. “She did?” His gaze darkened with suspicion. “Why would she do that?”
Sami bit back a smile, but her eyes glittered with wicked amusement. “You got me. I’ve never understood Kate Roberts. Maybe she’s just fickle.” With that parting shot, she disappeared up the stairs.
“Yeah, right,” Roman muttered, collapsing onto the couch. He glanced

at Brady, who was glaring up at him with fierce intensity as his small fingers bit into the soft ball. Marlena’s earlier words about the difficulties the little boy had been having swam through his mind, and he remembered his momentary suspicion that they might have something to do with him. He knew that stepfatherhood would be a tricky proposition, should he be so lucky as to attain that status. He tried to remember how Marlena had made Carrie’s integration into their lives so effortless. Like it or not, Marlena sees him as hers now…time to make a few inroads for the future’s sake.

“Do you like basketball?” he asked Brady, pointing from the ball to the child-sized goal standing in the corner.
Brady’s lower lip poked out in a display of childish stubbornness, but the ingrained respect he’d been trained to show his elders eventually overcame his obstinacy, and he nodded shortly.
“So do I,” Roman confided, sliding off the couch and onto his knees in front of the little boy. “Can I try one?” He waved at the ball and made a shooting motion.
The veneer of politeness evaporated from Brady’s expression, and he scowled, shaking his head vehemently and hiding the ball behind his back.
Roman was a bit nonplussed by the boy’s behavior. Whatever issues he might have with John, he had to admit that the man had done a fine job with Belle and Brady, never allowing his own difficulties to impact their small lives. He’d never permitted them to see whatever anger he himself felt for Roman, and had never tried to influence them against their mother’s ex-husband – at least, not so far as Roman knew. He’d never seen the child act this way before, not with anyone.
“That’s okay,” he finally said, levering himself back up onto the couch. “Sometimes it’s not too fun to share.” Brady watched him silently, and his intent gaze was a bit unnerving. “Did you know your cousin Shawn-D plays for the junior high basketball team? Your Grandma Caroline told me.” Brady didn’t reply, and his stare didn’t waver. “She said he’s pretty good. It might be fun to see him play someday, don’t you think? Maybe we could drag your mother and sister to a game, what do you say?”
Brady bit his lower lip, and it appeared to Roman as if the boy was suddenly fighting back tears. What did I say? The tension in the child’s

small shoulders was painful to see. “You’re not my father!” he finally burst out, flinging the ball to the floor. His small fists clenched at his side.

“I know that, Brady-” Roman began cautiously, but the little boy cut him off with an anguished sob as he darted toward the stairs, giving the couch upon which Roman sat a wide berth.
“Chelsea!” he cried to the nanny, who’d just descended the bottom steps with Belle in her arms. She shot Roman a look of confusion as Brady latched onto her free hand. Roman shrugged, helpless to enlighten her about the cause of Brady’s newest inexplicable behavior. “Brady, honey, what-” Chelsea murmured, but the child interrupted again.
“I wanna see Daddy, Chelsea. When are we goin’ to see Daddy?” Chelsea knelt down to give him a comforting one-armed hug as Belle gazed silently at her brother, her small brow furrowed in puzzlement. “We’re leaving right now, Brady. We’ll see Daddy in a few minutes, I promise. Go up and get your backpack.”
Brady darted one more angry glare at Roman over his shoulder as he raced up the stairs. Chelsea stood up, her hand rubbing Belle’s back comfortingly. “What was that all about?” she murmured, regarding him with wide eyes as she dropped a kiss on top of the little girl’s head. Roman shrugged again. “I have no idea.”
***
Marlena’s head fell against John’s shoulder, her brilliant golden hair cascading down over his back. He held her in his arms on trembling legs, unsure if he still had the strength to hold them upright. She clung to him, and he could feel the salty tears drip onto his neck. “I love you,” she whispered, her lips caressing his skin.
He tightened his arms around her and backed blindly toward the conference table. He fell against it with a muffled thump. “I know,” he replied, laying them both back on the table and letting out a gusty sigh of relief. She held him close for another moment, then rolled off of him with a groan. “I missed this,” he admitted, running his fingers down her arm, unwilling to break contact completely.
She smiled contentedly, eyes closed, as her breathing evened out. “No kidding.” She gasped as his fingers continued downward, then let out a low moan of pleasure. “You’re insatiable.”

“For you,” he agreed, rolling over to meet her lips with a kiss. “Only for you.”

She ran her hands down his chest. “Oh, yeah?” she teased, raising an eyebrow. He sucked in a sharp gasp of pleasure. “Prove it.” “If you insist.”
***
Kristen tried jerking her arm away as Bart led her toward the front door of the house, but he refused to let her go. “Tell me where you’re taking me,” she commanded, silently cursing the hitch in her voice that made it more of a plea than an order.
“Shut up and listen,” he muttered angrily as he drew her away, out of earshot of a nameless gardener hovering off the front porch. “We don’t have any *time* for this, princess. I couldn’t talk to you in the car without Igor overhearing us-”
“His name is *Igor*?” she burst out incredulously, unable to help herself.
“Shut *up*!” he repeated, slamming the door shut behind them. “You don’t get it, do you? This is your *life* we’re talking about here! If you want a future for you or that pillow you call a baby, you’ll listen to me and do *exactly* what I say. Otherwise, we’re both screwed.”
Kristen’s fingers clutched convulsively at the pregnancy pillow as she stumbled a bit on the foyer carpeting. She swallowed nervously. “You know?” she whispered, stunned.
Bart rolled his eyes. “I’m the one who tossed you in the car, princess. It would have been hard *not* to know. Look, I could care less what kind of scam you’re pulling, or on who, though I bet a could make a pretty good guess on that one.” She scowled at him and tugged on her arm. He rolled his eyes again. “Whatever floats your boat, princess. But if you want me to keep my mouth shut about it around the millionaire boy toy, you’ll do what I tell you.” His voice lowered to a hoarse whisper. “I want you to *swear* to me that you’ll never tell anyone that I’m the one who fixed the brakes on the shrink’s car. I don’t want anyone to know that I helped kill the Blake lady and Dr. Evans’ kid, you get me?”
She frowned, confused by the urgency in his tone. “Of *course* I won’t tell anyone, Bart. Rachel was my mother, for God’s sake. And if anyone knew you did it, they’d ask why, and that would lead directly to

me.”

His expression darkened. “Yeah, well, you got connections that I don’t.
You might end up in jail or something, but I’d end up six feet under.
Just promise me!”
“I promise,” she replied impatiently. “Now tell me why it matters!”
His mouth snapped shut as they emerged through a doorway into another hall. Two sentries stood outside a large, ornate wooden door, their eyes trained suspiciously on the newcomers. Kristen could see that underneath the scruffy beard the color had drained from Bart’s face. He looked…frightened. Terrified actually. She swallowed audibly. “You’ll see…” he muttered, an ominous note of doom coloring his voice.
The door swung open.
***
“You have icing in your hair.”
Marlena’s merry whisper brought John out of his mute stupor of hazy pleasure. He kept his eyes closed and smiled up at the ceiling, then grimaced as a muscle in his back twinged painfully. “That’s the least of my problems,” he murmured, rubbing the offending area. “I think I’m getting too old for this.”
Marlena nudged him playfully with one bare shoulder. He opened his eyes and turned his head to grin at her. She grinned back as her fingers traced the glossy polished wood of the conference table upon which they lay, then crept up onto his chest. “Oh, I don’t know,” she confided airily, trailing her fingertips though his chest hair. “I was just thinking that this was a lot more comfortable than I originally thought it would be.” She leaned forward and planted a light kiss on his lips, then pulled back teasingly as he reached out to draw her closer.
“Easy for you to say,” he retorted, grabbing for her as she slid from his arms. “You were on top!”
Marlena chuckled as she eased off of the table to go in search of her scattered clothing. “Oh, don’t be such a baby. You never used to be so picky about where we…Aha!” She scooped up the camisole slip and shrugged it over her head, laughing at his groan of displeasure as the silky material covered her curves. She cocked her head thoughtfully as she gazed down at the large wooden table upon which they’d made love twice now. “You know, I think that table needs a commemorative

plaque or something.”

John sat up and swung his legs over the edge, kicking his feet back and forth like five-year-old Brady – appropriately enough, since he felt as giddy as a child, though for decidedly un-childlike reasons. “What, something like ‘John and Marlena More Than Slept Here’?”
She laughed as she tossed his pants and boxer shorts to him over her shoulder. “No, something a little more subtle, I think. Like – ‘Table Much More Comfortable Than It Would First Appear’.” She bent over to look behind the empty desk in front of the window, and John paused during the task of pulling up his pants to admire the view of her trim backside. “*Where* did you put my other stocking?” she demanded in a muffled voice.
He drew his shirt around his shoulders, ruefully fingering the loose threads that were all that remained of the buttons that had been there. “I have no idea, but keep looking under there, ‘kay? I really like the view.”
She lifted her head above the desk to shoot him a mock glare. “Lecher! Help me find it, will you? Or we might be really embarrassed the next time there’s a board meeting in here.”
He picked up a bottle of water from the sideboard and poured a bit of the liquid onto a paper towel. “I don’t see it,” he murmured, scrubbing the towel through his hair before crossing the room to give the table a cursory swipe. “Found a shoe, though,” he added, kicking one heel out from under the table.
Marlena plucked her blouse from where it hung on the lamp and shrugged into it. “Thanks. What about my skirt?”
“Mmmm…oh,” he pointed and chuckled, “Large fake indoor tree at three o’clock.”
She skipped across the room to retrieve it from a dangling branch. “Huh. Wonder how *that* got there?”
He strode quickly toward her and slipped his arms around her waist from behind, drawing her into a secure embrace. “If you’ve forgotten, I’d be happy – *really* happy – to remind you,” he whispered into her ear, the feel of his warm breath sending shivers down her spine. The silk material of her blouse rubbed enticingly against his chest, and his hands roamed downward, seeking satiny soft skin.
She turned in his arms to smile up at him, her fingers twining in the

hair at the base of his neck. Her eyes were full of feigned innocent

sincerity. “I can’t seem to recall anything at the moment, Mr. Black.”
She licked her lips provocatively. “I really think maybe you should
remind me.” His hands slid up underneath her slip as their lips met
again in another passionate kiss.
Chapter 71
Kristen felt the air rush out of her lungs as she beheld the figure lying on top of the bed across the carpet. The room was stuffy and shadowed; the only traces of light came from the heavily draped windows and the beeping hospital monitors against the wall. Beside her, she could feel the terrified tension in Bart’s rigid form, and she suddenly understood why it had been so important to him that she promise not to reveal he had fixed the brakes on Marlena’s car per her orders.
Because the man on the bed would kill him for it, without a second thought. And maybe me as well…
Her heart pounding, Kristen made her way toward the bed, fighting back the overwhelming urge to turn and flee. If I do that all my secrets will be revealed. I have to act normally. I have to REact the way he thinks I would. She pasted a smile on her face, more of a rictus than a welcome, but it was the best she could manage. She could only hope the darkness of the room hid her true face.
k a deep breath and reached out a hand toward the recumbent man
before her. “Hello, Father.”
***
Marlena gave John a good shove and slipped out of his embrace. “Stop that, you goon. We don’t have time for this – you have to help me find my other stocking.” They’d both gotten dressed, but the elusive stocking had yet to make an appearance. For some reason, John found himself less than vitally concerned.
He made another abortive grab for her but she was too quick for him. “Give it up, Doc. It’s gone. You’ll never see it again.”
She turned to eye him suspiciously. “You didn’t appropriate it as some sort of sordid souvenir, did you?”
He offered her a look of mock outrage. “Marlena, I’m utterly shocked that you would say that. There was nothing *sordid* about any of this.” He trailed his fingers suggestively over the table top, and her cheeks

flushed in remembrance.

She rounded on him with her fists on her hips, eyes sparkling. “I wonder what your Board of Directors would say? I wonder what *you* would say if you caught any of *your* employees in here like this…”
He crossed his arms over his chest and cocked an eyebrow. “Why, I’d have to kill ’em, of course,” he drawled. “No one seduces you on this here conference table but me.”
Marlena gave up on the vanished hosiery and walked toward him. “Oh, but that’s where you’re wrong, honey,” she purred, running her palms up his chest. “Because this was *my* seduction. I was the seducER. You were the seducEE.”
He leaned down to kiss her. “Well, it was my pleasure, Doc. But I have
dibs on next time, okay?”
“Mmmm. ‘Kay.”
A knock on the conference room door startled them out of their embrace. Marlena slipped from his arms, giving his backside a surreptitious pat in the process. She grinned impishly at him before unlocking the door, while John turned away to adjust the drape of his pants. “Hi, sweetie,” she greeted Carrie as the door swung wide. Carrie nodded a hello and hitched Belle higher on her hip. She entered the conference room, beckoning behind her for Chelsea to follow with Brady.
“I ran into these three in the hallway. When you weren’t in your office, I thought you might still be here,” Carrie told John, biting back a teasing comment about his disheveled appearance. John offered her a sheepish smile.
“I-” he began, but Brady interrupted him. John’s eyes widened in shock as Brady violently shoved his way out of Chelsea’s arms and ran toward his father. Tears streaked down his small face, mute testament to a long period of weeping. “Daddy!”
John hugged his son to his chest and Brady buried his face in his father’s shoulder. “Chelsea,” John managed through a windpipe constricted by his son’s strangling embrace. “What’s *wrong* with him?”
Chelsea shook her head helplessly as Marlena and Carrie looked on with concern. “He’s been nearly hysterical since before we left the house. But he wouldn’t tell me what was wrong – he just kept saying

he had to see you.”

John nodded his understanding. “All right. We’ll take care of it. Would you please take Belle outside for a few minutes? Carrie, punkin, can they use your office?”
Carrie nodded, her brow furrowed with worry. “Of course. It’s open, three doors down on the right.”
Chelsea took the little girl from Carrie’s arms and vanished out the door. Carrie stepped up next to Marlena and touched her arm. They traded anxious glances.
John smoothed his son’s hair. “Brady…slugger, it’s Daddy. I’m right here, I’ve got you. Tell me what’s wrong, son.”
Brady shook his head, sniffing back tears, and hugged his father harder.
Marlena squeezed Carrie’s hand, then let go of it to move over next to John. She rubbed Brady’s back comfortingly. “Sweetie, please talk to us. You have to tell Mommy and Daddy what’s wrong before we can help make it better.”
The little boy’s shoulders stiffened under her touch. His head whipped around, and his venomous glare staggered her so deeply that she took an involuntary step backward. “You’re not my momma!” he cried angrily, his voice cracking on the final word. “You’re not my momma and I *hate* you!”
John’s stunned gaze met Marlena’s as both their mouths fell open in
shock.
**
“Kristen.”
Kristen had to lean forward to hear that single word. Her father’s voice was thin and breathless, a pale echo of his usual accented basso profundo. She studied his pale countenance, managing with difficulty to conceal her shock at his wasted appearance. He’d lost at least forty pounds, but in an obviously unhealthy manner. The respirator and IV completed the look for a man quite evidently in very poor health.
Concern for him momentarily overcame her fear. “Father! What *happened*?”
He coughed, and a faceless female servant leapt forward to offer him a glass of water. Irritably he waved her off. “You do not know?” he rasped, raising his eyebrows. “But-”

Bart found his voice as he darted a nervous glance toward Kristen. “I’m sorry, sir, but we just managed to find out a few of the details of what’s been going on in Salem. Mr. Black’s security team has been very successful in keeping people away from Dr. Evans. But it seems that she does not remember her assault on you, so no one has yet discovered what really happened.”

Kristen bit her tongue to keep from interrupting, eyeing Bart quizzically. Marlena’s amnesia has been common knowledge for *months*. Why did they keep that from you? And what else are they hiding?
Bart nudged her slightly, tilting his head toward Stefano. She took a deep breath and prayed his cue meant what she thought it did. “Actually, Father, Marlena doesn’t remember a lot of things…the last ten years, in fact,” she informed him. “Trauma from her wounds, the doctors think. So nobody knows *what* happened before she escaped from you.”
Concern darkened his expression. “But she is otherwise all right, isn’t she? She’s healthy?”
And another male bows down at the altar of Saint Marlena, Kristen thought sourly, the corners of her mouth turning downward. “Stefano, if what everyone assumed happened is true, Marlena tried to *kill* you! Why do you care how she is?”
His expression turned mutinous, lending a sulky cast to his forbidding features. “Of course she didn’t mean to shoot me. She simply wasn’t thinking straight.” His eyes darkened ominously. “The guard who shot her has been…suitably punished for his temerity, and once I had sufficiently recovered, one of my contacts informed me that Marlena was only hospitalized for a few days and then discharged. But that’s all the information he gave me. She *is* all right, isn’t she?”
“She’s as all right as she ever was,” Kristen muttered under her breath, then sighed. “She’s fine, Stefano. Just fine.”
He smiled and patted the space on the bed next to him. “And you, my darling? You’re looking very well, and-” he chuckled “- very pregnant. How is your mother? How’s Peter?”
Kristen choked, and Bart pounded her helpfully on the back, a little harder than strictly necessary. She caught his look of panic, and the nervous expressions of those behind him. Left it all for me to tell, did

you? Thanks a lot.

She met Stefano’s expectant gaze with difficulty, trying for an appearance of calm. “A lot’s happened since you’ve been gone, Father. Lie back, and I’ll tell you everything you need to know.” And absolutely nothing you don’t…
**
“Brady!” John exclaimed, shaken to the core by his son’s angry outburst. “Why in the world would you say such a thing? Of course Marlena is your mother, and you *certainly* don’t hate her.”
Brady’s tears had resumed their downward course. “I do,” he sniffed insistently. “I do hate her and she isn’t my momma.” He wound his arms more tightly around his father’s neck. “You’re my Daddy. I wanna be with you. *Please* take me with you. Don’t let him take me away!”
“Oh, son, no one’s going to take you away from me. No one ever could. You’re my little boy.”
Brady bit his lip and shook his head vehemently. “He took Carrie an’ Sami an’ Eric. Carrie said so. I *heard* her.”
As one, Marlena and John turned to look at Carrie. She shrugged, as perplexed as they were. “I don’t recall ever saying that to him. But it’s possible he might have heard me mention to someone that you were the father that raised us before Dad came back. That’s never been a secret.”
John looked down at his son. “Is it Roman, son? Are you worried about Roman?”
Brady’s lower lip poked out. “He’ll never be my Daddy. I won’t stay with them. I *won’t*! An’ Belle doesn’t want to, either.”
John set Brady down on the conference table and knelt down in front of him. “Look at me, son. Look at me. I want you to tell me what’s going on. Right now.”
Brady swiped at the tears on his cheeks, automatically responding to his father’s commanding tone. “*She*-” he began, darting a petulant glance toward Marlena “-is Belle’s momma. And when she goes away, Belle has to go with her. But she’s not *my* momma, an’ I don’t wanna live with them. I wanna live with you.”
Marlena knelt down next to John. “Brady, honey, I’m not going anywhere. Why would you think that?”
Brady scrubbed his eyes with two small fists. “When you came back

and took Carrie an’ Sami an’ Eric away then Daddy wasn’t their daddy no more, right?”

“Any more,” Marlena corrected automatically. She shot John a puzzled glance. He shrugged. “It was complicated, Brady…but I guess that’s right, essentially.”
“An’ then you guys went to the house and lived with *him*, right? I saw pictures of you,” Brady concluded. Marlena nodded slowly, still uncertain where he was going with this. “Well, I *hate* him,” Brady muttered bitterly, his small fingers tightening on the table’s edge. “An’ I want Daddy to be my daddy more than I want you to be my Mommy. I *won’t* go with you. I *won’t*!”
Marlena placed a hand on his knee. “Honey, I would never try to take you away from your daddy. What happened all those years ago…well, it *was* complicated, but believe us when we tell you that *nothing* like that will ever happen to you. Nothing in the world could change the fact that Daddy is your daddy. And no one will ever keep you from him. Okay?” She reached up to caress his cheek. His face crumpled.
“She’s telling you the truth, son,” John agreed, reaching up to gather him close once again. “I would never let *anyone* take you away from me, and neither would Marlena. Not anyone. You believe me, don’t you? You know I wouldn’t lie to you?”
The little boy finally nodded against his father’s chest, his fingers gripping the front of John’s shirt. “I believe you,” he murmured softly. “Okay, slugger.” John dropped a comforting kiss on the top of his son’s head, before lowering his voice to become serious again. “Now, I want you to apologize to your mother, son.” He set the little boy back on the table and waited until Brady met his gaze. “You know how bad you felt when you thought someone might say you weren’t my son anymore?” Brady nodded. “Well, that’s how bad Marlena felt when you said she wasn’t your Momma. And I don’t *ever* want to hear you say you hate her again, do you hear me? Because I know you love her, and that means you’re just saying it to hurt her feelings.”
Brady nodded again. He sniffed and looked up at Marlena. “I’m sorry, Momma,” he murmured in a small voice. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. An’ I don’t hate you.”
Marlena embraced him, meeting John’s eyes with her own tear- filled gaze. “Thank you, Brady,” she whispered. “I’ll be all right. I’m just glad

you finally told us what was bothering you. Do you feel better now?”

“Uh-huh.”
“Good. Do you feel up to telling us what brought this on?”
Brady looked up at her, his brow furrowed. “Huh?”
Marlena smoothed his cowlick. “Why were you crying when Chelsea brought you here today? Did something happen?”
“Oh.” Brady bit his lip. “*He* said we were goin’ to a basketball game.” Marlena glanced at John. “What? Roman, you mean? Why did that upset you?”
“He said him and you and Belle and me would go,” Brady explained. “Not Daddy. He acts like him and you are gettin’ married. But that’s not right, ’cause you’re marryin’ Daddy, right?”
Marlena grinned at John, who grinned back. “That’s the plan, son.”
Brady smiled. “Okay.” He struggled down off of the table and headed
toward the door and Carrie. Suddenly he stopped and turned back
toward Marlena. “Momma?”
“Yes, sweetie?”
“Does this mean you won’t kiss him no more? Gettin’ married means you just kiss Daddy now, right?” Brady gazed up at her with guileless eyes, innocent curiosity in his childish voice.
Marlena’s breath caught in her throat as she felt John stiffen beside
her. She swallowed.
***
Kristen proffered a tissue toward Stefano. “Here, Father, take this.”
Stefano accepted the tissue with shaking fingers. “Peter…is *gone*?”
He closed his eyes. “And Rachel…”
She shot a dirty glance toward Bart. “Yes, Father, I’m sorry no one told you. They probably wanted to make sure you were strong enough to hear the news.”
“Strong, yes…” Stefano whispered. He struggled with emotion for long moments, a few tears escaping to streak down his gaunt cheeks. Finally, he sighed tiredly, his fingers tightening on her arm. “Are *you* all right, sweetheart? This must have been terribly difficult for you to go through alone.”
You have no idea… “I’m fine, Father. It was hard at first…but I’m dealing with it. I’m glad you’re alive, though. I just wish I had known before now.” Oh, *boy*, do I wish that…

Stefano nodded. “Yes, well, my doctors were not confident at first that I would live. My injuries were quite extensive. And I believe they were…unsure of the status of our relationship, because of your connection to John, and that’s why they did not contact you. When I became strong enough, I asked my employees to bring you here, but discreetly.” He raised an eyebrow. “How is your relationship with John, by the way? Were you married as you had planned?”

Kristen winced and glanced again at Bart. “Um, actually, no. Marlena’s amnesia, once she’d awakened in the hospital…well, it brought him closer to her. And after she found out about everything that happened the past few years, Jo- …” her voice broke on the word “…John broke up with me and proposed to her.”
Stefano appeared peculiarly unperturbed by the news. “So they are engaged, then?”
Her brow furrowed. “Not exactly. Shortly after he proposed, Roman returned – so the engagement is sort of on hold while they all figure out what *that* means.”
Stefano waved a dismissive hand. “Roman, bah. He is no threat to me. Once he found out the truth about her relationship with me, he would never return to her. I am not worried.” He regarded her expectantly. “So, tell me, my daughter. Marlena must be quite heavy with my child by now. How is the pregnancy progressing?”
Next to her, Bart froze, horrified. Didn’t know the baby was Stefano’s, did you, Bart? If you thought he’d hurt you for harming his precious Queen of the Night, you must know he’d kill you for costing him his child. She closed her eyes. Of course, he had help with that, didn’t he, Kristen? Oh, God, what the hell do I say? If I tell him she miscarried because of the car accident, he’ll never leave it alone without asking more questions. He’ll do whatever he can to find out every single detail – and if he finds out the truth… She allowed herself a small shudder, then braced her shoulders and opened her eyes.
Stefano was gazing up at her quizzically. “Kristen? What is wrong? Is something the matter with my child?” ***

Carrie was regarding Marlena incredulously, her mouth open in shock. Marlena found herself unable to turn and look at John as Brady’s innocent words reverberated in her mind. He saw. He saw me kiss

Roman. Oh, *damn*…

“Carrie,” John began in a deceptively calm voice, “would you please take Brady and join Chelsea in your office? I’d like to speak to Marlena for a few minutes.”
Carrie nodded slowly, her eyes filled with worry. “Um, sure, of course. No problem.” She knelt down to collect the little boy. “Come on, big guy. Let’s go see your sister.”
Brady nodded and wrapped his arms around her neck. “Okay.” He twisted in her embrace to look up at his father. “We still goin’ to the park this afternoon, Daddy?”
John smiled grimly. “You bet, slugger. I’ll be down to get you in a few minutes.”
Brady nodded, satisfied, his world once again spinning upon its proper axis. Carrie looked from John to Marlena and opened her mouth as though she wanted to say something, but finally closed it and left without another word. The door clicked softly shut behind them.
Marlena closed her eyes, anticipating the explosion to come, but John said nothing. Finally, she gathered her courage to turn and look at him. He’d returned to his place in front of the window and was gazing out upon the city, his stance eerily reminiscent of earlier in the evening. When he was saying goodbye to us… she realized. Her stomach sank.
She approached him from behind, reaching out a hand to touch his shoulder, but not quite managing it. “John?” she murmured softly. He did not reply.
***
“Your child,” Kristen repeated blankly, at a loss for anything else to say. Her mind raced furiously.
“Yes,” Stefano replied after a moment, his brows drawing together in puzzlement. “You did *know* the child is mine, didn’t you?”
Kristen swallowed. “I-…well, no, I thought-” Oh, God, what do I say? Suddenly, as if by divine intervention, inspiration struck. She shut her eyes and sent a quick prayer up to heaven. Please, God, let this work. “That explains it,” she breathed finally, affecting an abstracted tone.
“Explains what?” Stefano asked, further confused. “What are you talking about, Kristen?”
She ran a hand through her hair. “Something I overheard at the

hospital after the car accident that killed Mother. You see, *Marlena* was driving the car when it crashed, Father.” “What? Was she all right? The baby-”

“She was fine, Stefano. She came out of it without a scratch, actually.
I saw her in the waiting room right after it happened, and she told us
the doctor gave both her and the baby a completely clean bill of
health. That’s why I was so confused later when I heard she and John
together in a hospital room talking about-” She cut herself off, allowing
the pause to lengthen dramatically.
“What?” Stefano snapped impatiently.
She bit her lip and shrugged. “Well, everyone thought the baby was John’s, Stefano. I mean, that’s what they told everyone.”
He blinked, stung. “I…I suppose that makes sense. Marlena would not want her family to know of our connection. But *she* must know the truth. And once John finds out-”
“He knows already, Father,” Kristen interjected. “He *must* have known, because that’s the only thing that makes any sense.” “Why do you say that?”
Kristen took a deep breath. Here goes nothing… “Marlena isn’t pregnant anymore, Father,” she finally murmured gently. His eyes widened. “What?”
“She…she got rid of the baby.” She closed her eyes again, afraid that he would look into them and discern the lie in their depths. “I overheard her telling the doctor to induce a miscarriage right after the accident. I guess she wanted everyone to assume that she lost the baby because of the trauma. I never could understand why John was willing to go along with it, and was even *encouraging* her-” she rubbed her pregnancy pillow “-because I know how much he treasures each one of his children.” She finally opened her eyes to find her father staring at her in horror. She ruthlessly quashed the small spark of guilt his obvious anguish engendered. “I’m sorry, Father.”
“You’re saying Marlena *killed* our child?” he choked out. “*No*! She would never *do* that.”
Kristen shook her head. “I know, you would never think so, would you? I mean, I thought I’d *heard* them wrong, because I knew Marlena would *never* get rid of John’s baby. But, maybe-”
Stefano’s tone was quiet and menacing as he bit out the next few

words, “Maybe *what*, Kristen?”

She shrugged and averted her gaze. “Maybe she thought giving birth to your child would be something John could never accept. I mean, if she thought having your baby would cause her to lose him…” She allowed her voice to trail off suggestively.
“Are you saying,” Stefano began angrily, “that Marlena *killed* my child for *John’s* sake?” His voice rose until the last word became almost a shout. He was immediately overcome by a bout of coughing that sent the bedside monitors into a paroxysm of beeping, and Kristen felt a pang of fear that her words would cause a relapse.
“Father, *please* don’t get so upset! It’s not good for you, you have to think about your health.”
“My *health*?” he choked out furiously. “My child is *dead*, Kristen!”
“I know that, I know,” she murmured soothingly, pressing him back into the bed. Well, it is true, even if it didn’t happen the way I said it did. “I’m sorry, Father,” she added, meaning every word, “but you have to calm down.”
Suddenly he stopped struggling and collapsed against the pillows, like a marionette whose strings had been cut. His face was pale and haggard. “I never would have believed it of her,” he rasped. “Not *her*…”
“She’s not the person you think she is, Father,” Kristen admonished him matter-of-factly. “She never was.”
Stefano shook his head miserably. “No. I can’t believe it.” But his protest was faint and unconvincing.
Kristen shrugged. “You can check the hospital records if you want. I’m sure they’ll show she checked out fine after the accident, and that Dr. Bader didn’t schedule the procedure until hours after it happened.” Or I hope they will, anyway… She reached out to tenderly caress his cheek. “I wouldn’t lie to you about something like this. I’m sorry, Father, but she did it on purpose. You have to accept that.”
She watched, fascinated, as his whole demeanor transformed before her very eyes. His expression hardened into granite, raw anger etched in every feature, the very picture of the terrifyingly dangerous man everyone had always warned her he could be. “This is *unforgivable*,” he seethed furiously. “A *crime* against nature. And penance must be *paid*.” The menace in his voice was chilling. “I will make sure of it, if

it is the last thing I *ever* do!”

Kristen felt a shiver race down her spine.
***
“John?”
He remained silent.
“John, honey, talk to me, please. Tell me what you’re thinking.” She made the request, though she wasn’t entirely sure she truly wanted to know. Something about his still, silent form frightened her down to her very toes.
When his words finally came they were a mere whisper in the darkness. “Every time…” he murmured. “Every single time…” She waited, but there was no more. “Every time, what, John?”
He crossed his arms over his chest, hugging them to him as if to ward off a chill. His tone was blank, bleak and cold. “Every time I allow myself to believe…every *single* time…”
Tears began to stream down her cheeks as a ball of foreboding uncurled in her stomach. She could feel arctic waves of anger emanating from his rigid figure. “John, no, please don’t…” she managed through the emotion clogging her throat.
“Shut up!” John snapped, one blazing note of anguish breaking through the looming wall of icy, righteous fury he’d erected between them. He inhaled deeply and set his jaw. “Just be quiet, Marlena. I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear any of it. “Ever again.”

Chapter 72
Kristen rubbed her pregnancy padding with one palm and glanced over at Bart. The DiMera henchman’s fingers were white- knuckled where they gripped the steering wheel of the car, and he still looked a little green around the gills. “So, we’re agreed, then?” she murmured calmly.
He shot her an angry glance before returning his gaze to the road before them. “I don’t really have much of a choice, do I?” he replied through gritted teeth. “Damn! Why didn’t you tell me the kid was DiMera’s? I never would have cut the brake lines on the shrink’s car if I had known he was the father.”
Kristen rolled her eyes. “I didn’t *know*, okay? You think I’d take that kind of risk? I *thought* the baby was John’s. The whole point in

getting rid of it, and of Marlena, was that I didn’t want her to have his baby.”

He scowled over the steering wheel. “Yeah, right,” he conceded gracelessly. They were silent for a moment. The muted strains of the country music Bart had insisted upon wafted through the car, and Kristen gave her belly another soothing pat. The swaying motion of the vehicle was almost as good as a rocking chair, she mused, nearly giddy with the relief of having dodged a surely fatal bullet. She felt a pang of remorse as she remembered her father’s pain upon hearing her charge of Marlena’s complicity in the baby’s death. But would he feel any better knowing his own daughter is the one truly responsible? she wondered. No. I did the right thing. I did the only thing I could do.
“So, did you lose your kid before or after you had me rig the car?” Bart asked conversationally.
Kristen scowled, tightening her fingers on the pillow. “I don’t want to talk about that. Don’t *ever* bring it up again!”
Bart looked somewhat taken aback by her vehement tone, but he shrugged it off. “Whatever. You’re the boss.” His eyes narrowed. “But, remember, if you betray me to DiMera, you can kiss Billionaire Black goodbye, because I’ll blow your little game, even if I have to do it from beyond the grave. Count on it.”
Kristen stared unseeing out the window. “Don’t worry, Bart,” she
murmured softly as a vision of she and John playing with their
beautiful baby daughter swam through her mind’s eye. “Trust me. I’ll
take care of everything.”
***
Roman exited the kitchen with his beer to find Sami lying on the sofa, reading a catalogue, one hand making notations in a spiral notebook with a pencil. She didn’t look up as the door slammed shut, and he briefly wondered if she was ignoring him on purpose.
“So, peanut, what are you up to?” he asked as he sat down on the coffee table opposite her.
Sami flicked him a dismissive glance. “Nothing.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Sami…” he murmured, a note of warning in his voice.
She sighed and struggled up into a sitting position. “I’m looking over the college summer course catalogue,” she informed him in a bored,

put upon monotone. “I’m trying to work it out so I only have class two or three days a week, so Will won’t have to spend too much time with the nanny.”

“Oh.” He frowned; the subject of Will had been a sore point between them since his return to Salem, and he really didn’t feel up to round number 452 of their neverending battle. Suddenly, a thought struck him as he gazed down at the cover of the catalogue. “Sami, how are you paying for this?”
She contemplated the neat handwriting on the page intently. “I’m not,” she mumbled under her breath.
He reached over and tugged the notebook from her grasp. “Sami-” She looked up and met his gaze squarely. “John’s paying for it,” she informed him, a hint of challenge in her voice.
Roman fought back the automatically belligerent response he knew she was expecting, even as he silently cursed the other man’s interference. He has no *right*… His lips thinned with anger, but his tone was even as he asked, “Do you really think that’s a good idea, Sami?”
Her blue eyes glittered maliciously. “Actually, I think it’s a *great* idea.”
Her taunt hit its mark, and Roman flinched imperceptibly. He looked away from her, hoping to hide his reaction. “I thought you were angry at him,” he muttered. “You were yelling at him in Marlena’s office at the hospital the day of Will’s accident.”
Her cheeks flushed guiltily, but her gaze remained steady. “I know. I remember.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “But didn’t you ever wonder *why* I was so angry?”
He shook his head wordlessly. I didn’t really care, you see…all that mattered was that you needed *me* again. But what happened to change that?
“I was angry at him because he had the nerve to point out the truth about myself to me,” Sami said. “Because he looked me in the eye and told me that what I had done was wrong, and that there were no excuses for my behavior. I didn’t want to hear it.” Her fingers tightened on the notebook. “But that didn’t mean what he said wasn’t true. So I went to see him and I apologized.”
Roman had no reply for that. She regarded him silently for a moment,

before shrugging and returning to her catalogue. He stood up from the table and walked across the room. “I’m going out for a walk,” he muttered over his shoulder as he pulled the door open. “Don’t wait dinner on me.” The door slammed shut behind him.

“Don’t worry,” Sami grumbled into her notebook. “I wasn’t planning on
it.”
***
Marlena stared at John’s rigid back as her mind raced through various possible overtures, attempting to decide what to say to minimize the damage of Brady’s innocent revelation. Her stomach was in knots, and her throat constricted with abrupt, fluttering panic. She could hardly believe that a few short moments ago she had been lost in his arms, secure in the knowledge that they would never be apart again. And now she could feel the gulf between them widening with every passing second.
“Brady misunderstood what he saw,” she stated finally. “John, honey-” “*Don’t* blame Brady for this!” he hissed through clenched teeth, his back still facing her.
She swallowed uneasily. “I’m not, John. But he’s just a little boy, he doesn’t understand what’s between Roman and me.” “That makes two of us, then.”
She stepped forward and placed a hand on his arm, but he pulled away. Deep down underneath her panic, she could feel a pool of anger beginning to simmer. You’re the one that forced me to live with the man, after all. Let’s not all of us forget *that* little bit of information… “Look, John, I’ll admit it – Roman kissed me. Once. That’s all that happened. It didn’t mean anything to me, and I had no idea Brady saw us.”
“Of course not,” he snapped. “If you had, you would have had the chance to instruct him not to say anything to *me* about it.”
“Wait just a minute!” she objected sharply. “I understand that you’re upset, but you have no right to accuse me of *deliberately* hurting Brady. I would never ask him to keep a secret from you at the expense of his own peace of mind. I’m just saying that, had I known that he’d seen us, I would have been able to explain to him that it didn’t mean what he thought it meant.”
“Oh, it didn’t, did it?” John drawled in an attempt at sarcasm, but his

voice cracked with audible hurt.

“No, it didn’t,” Marlena replied softly, reaching for him again. “You *know* it didn’t.”
He finally turned to face her, and the miserable uncertainty in his expression tore at her heart even as it inflamed her anger. How can he look at me like that after what we just shared? How can he doubt me *now*? He regarded her silently for a moment, then quietly, regretfully murmured, “Right now…right now, I don’t know anything.”
She stiffened upon hearing his response, snatching her hand back as though she’d been shocked. “*How* can you say that? Didn’t what we just did mean *anything* to you?”
Anger flashed in his eyes. “*I’m* not the one who’s been kissing someone else, Marlena.”
“Stop it!” she retorted, stung. “That isn’t fair, John! I didn’t *ask* Roman to kiss me. It wasn’t my idea and I did nothing to encourage him.”
“Oh, you didn’t, did you?” John replied nastily as a lurid image of them entwined together blazed across his brain. The refrain of She chose *him* again…she chose *him* again…she chose *him*… played endlessly in his mind. “So what did you do, Marlena? Did you slap him? Did you push him away, tell him his touch repulsed you? Huh? Tell me, Doc, what did you do?”
“Nothing!” she yelled, goaded past all endurance by his baiting tone. Somewhere inside of her, a dam she hadn’t realized existed suddenly broke free, and a welcome wave of fury enveloped her. Some long dormant corner of her soul which had suppressed all of her emotions under a flood of guilt woke up with a screaming vengeance. I guess there was more of *her* left in me than I thought, constantly preventing me from getting angry or sticking up for myself, she realized, even as her furious words poured forth. “I didn’t do *anything*! He kissed me, and I *let* him, and his touch didn’t repulse me. It was *nice*, *he* was nice, and when it was over, I went up to the bedroom, and I remembered all the years we had together as a happily married couple! And if you think that’s a betrayal, then *fine*, I betrayed you!” She nearly spat the words. “I don’t hate him, John. If you’re waiting for me to hate him, if that’s what it will take to make you believe that I want to be with you, then you should know right now that

it’s never going to happen.” She glared at him with burning intensity. “Is that what it will take, John?”

“I don’t *know*!” he yelled back, his frustration evident. “Ten minutes ago I would have sworn on a stack of Bibles that nothing on this earth could make me doubt us again. But here we are…and I *do* doubt us!” “Why?!? Because of *one* kiss that was completely misunderstood by a confused little boy? That’s *ludicrous*, John!”
“Is it?” he shot back. “Is it really? You know what, Doc? I *remember* the last time you kissed one man while you were committed to another, and it wasn’t just a harmless kiss, then, either!” Her mouth fell open. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about our affair, Marlena! I’m talking about you and me.” His eyes darkened with painful memories. “I know you want to believe that you didn’t have a real marriage with Roman when we were together, but no matter how hard you try toconvince yourself – or me – I know you *loved* the man! But that didn’t stop you from sleeping with me, did it? It didn’t stop you from loving me, or wanting me, and it didn’t stop you from betraying him with me.” His fists clenched. “You know, I used to think that nothing could have been more painful than my role in what went on between the three of us, but I’m beginning to understand just how much finding out about it after the fact must have hurt Roman, and I am *not* willing to take on *that* role. I won’t love you and commit to you, only to lose you to someone else. I won’t!”
She regarded him incredulously. “Are you accusing me of something? Of somehow managing to have an affair with him *before* we’ve even married? How many thousands of times to I have to point out to you that I AM NOT *HER*!?! I don’t *think* like her, I don’t *feel* like her, and I sure as hell don’t *act* like her! I don’t *care* what she did to Roman, or how she felt about him a million years ago, or what incredibly stupid mistakes she made during their marriage! And I *really* resent the fact that you think you can predict my future behavior based on what *she* did.”
“Oh, that’s right, you’re nothing alike, are you?” he replied, sarcasm dripping from his tone. “Let’s see…getting caught kissing another man, thereby traumatizing one of yourchildren. Where have I heard that one before? Am I talking about Brady? Or *maybe* I’m talking about Sami!”

She shook her head in disbelief. “I don’t believe this! It’s not the same, John. Brady is *five* years old, and he saw something that confused him for a little while, that’s all. He’s *fine* now.” She crossed her arms defensively. “*You* are the one with the problem.”

He met her angry gaze unflinchingly. “Yeah, I am,” he replied simply. “I’m in love with a woman I can’t trust.”
Her eyes flashed and she shook her head again, advancing on him. “Nooo…*you* are in love with a woman who is *not* *HERE*.” She enunciated each word clearly, jabbing her finger into his chest and finishing with a bitter laugh. “It’s ironic, isn’t it? You can’t love the woman I am, but you can’t trust the woman you want me to be.” Her heart constricted painfully, the truth of her own words tearing at her spirit. Only minutes ago she had pledged her heart, soul and body to him in a wholehearted seduction – on a conference table in a busy office building, no less! Something completely out of character for the dignified, ladylike Dr. Marlena Evans…but her desire for him had overwhelmed her customary common sense. And yet he *still* somehow had no faith in the depth of her feelings…
Her voice lowered to a contemplative whisper as she stared down at the ring on her hand. “It makes me wonder why I tried so hard to *be* her, when it seems as though it wouldn’t have made any difference to you in the end, anyway,” she murmured.
John scowled at her. “What do you mean, you tried to be her?” Marlena turned away from him, straightening her shoulders as she paced blindly toward the back wall. The sight of her high heels laying jumbled with his shoes upon the carpet brought tears to her eyes. No! she commanded herself, blinking them back. Stop *crying*! You’re stronger than this! She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I mean that I tried to remember the years I lost, in order to become the woman you think you want.” Her cheeks burned with angry humiliation, but she held her chin up high. “I thought if I could just recapture the memories, then you would believe me when I say that I love you and I’m over Roman. I even went so far as to have Laura hypnotize me, against the recommendation of my doctors, because I was willing to risk my health to find my past. But it didn’t work…and it wouldn’t have mattered if it had, would it? You’ll never believe me, no matter what I do.” She closed her eyes and shook her head, pained. “I

can’t believe I was willing to go through all that, willing to gamble on becoming a person I don’t even *like* again, when all the while you weren’t even willing to risk giving it a chance. To risk giving *us* a chance.” She whirled around to face him, long-banked anger and frustration finally erupting forth. “You’re a coward, John Black!”

His cheeks flushed dull red with anger. “I am not.” His voice sounded petulant even to his own ears, and he repeated his words more forcefully. “I am *not*! But I’m not a fool, either. And only a fool would willingly leave himself open for that kind of pain again. You have no idea what losing you did to me. You have no idea how it made me feel.”
She glared at him with dry, burning eyes. “Oh, I don’t, do I?” she replied in a raw voice. “You must mean, then, that it felt absolutely nothing like *this* feels.”
A muscle in his jaw twitched as he sensed the chasm of grief and anger between them widening further. “I don’t know what you want from me, Marlena,” he muttered finally, eyes downcast. “Do you want me to tell you that I don’t care that Roman kissed you? Because I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”
She drew herself up painfully and squared her shoulders. “I don’t expect it not to matter to you. I *want* you to believe me when I tell you that it didn’t matter to *me*. I want you to believe me when I tell you that I love you, and only you. I want you to trust *us*, to believe in *us*. Why can’t you just do that?” she pleaded. “Why is that so incredibly difficult?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Marlena.” He lowered his eyes. “I only know that it is.” Silence fell as they both absorbed the leaden impact of his stark words.
Marlena stared at him for a moment, but his set expression didn’t waver. She pressed her lips together. “I came here today,” she began slowly, thoughtfully, “because I couldn’t bear for things to remain the way they were.” She knelt down to pick up her shoes, her gaze locked unseeingly on the floor. “For too long, I’ve listened to other people tell me how my life should be, because I believed somehow that my amnesia meant that I didn’t know myself anymore.” She rubbed her thumbs along the supple tan leather, her tone abstracted. “But I was wrong, I realize that now. I think I’m the only one who *does* know

me.” She smoothed a rough spot in the leather with her finger. “*I* am Dr. Marlena Evans,” she stated firmly. “I like lilacs, Christmas carols, parmesan popcorn and Cary Grant movies. I adore my job, my children and my family.” She blinked and looked up at him, her expression resolute. “I hate Stefano DiMera, water chestnuts, and television infomercials.” She slipped one high heel on her left foot, her upturned gaze never wavering from his face. “I’ve never rappelled down a cliff nor run a marathon, and I don’t have any particular desire to do so. I’ve forgotten ten years of my life, but I’m okay with that.” She stepped into the other shoe. “And I won’t live my life according to anyone’s dictates but my own. Not anymore.”

John swallowed uneasily and said nothing in reply as she straightened again. She stood before him, fully-dressed, brandishing her jacket like a suit of armor. Her gaze was piercing, her tone adamant. “It’s time for you to make a decision, John. I love you, I want you, and I need you. But I refuse to live like this any longer. So what will it be? Are you willing to marry me?” She paused and took a deep breath, the fingers of her right hand twisting the ring on her left. Her voice faded almost to a whisper. “Or should we end this right now?” ***

Carrie sat behind her desk and contemplated the two small children playing on the floor in the corner of her office. A bemused smile curved her lips as Belle gleefully tore pages out of the newest issue of Bella, while Brady decorated his family’s smiling faces on the cover with a blue magic marker. She stifled a laugh as John sprouted three antennae and an extra arm under his son’s artistic guidance.
Chelsea glanced over at her, and Carrie could see the worry in her eyes, though Brady seemed to have forgotten his earlier upset. She hadn’t had a chance to fill the nanny in on the reasons for his tantrum, and wasn’t sure if she should do so in any case, because she had a feeling that the turmoil was not over. The misery in John’s eyes as she and Brady had quit the room did not bode well for the future of an intact Black family. Carrie was surprised at the depth of the sorrow she felt upon that realization. Without thinking about it, she reached out for her phone and dialed automatically. “Hello?”

For a moment, Carrie couldn’t reply, for she was dumbfounded by her

own actions. Why in the world is my first instinct to call *her*?

Sami’s initial cheerful greeting soured a bit. “Hello? Is someone there?….Look, if this is some kind of joke, you’re going to have to work on the heavy breathing because I can barely hear-”
“Sami,” Carrie cut in. She could hear her sister inhale sharply in surprise. The two of them hadn’t really spoken since the revelation of Will’s parentage, and the last words between them had been exceedingly bitter. She wondered if Sami expected an angry tirade. Not just now…
“Carrie,” Sami replied carefully in a neutral tone. “Dad isn’t here.”
“I didn’t call for him. I wanted to talk to you.” “You-…but why?” Sami stuttered in surprise. “Um, is something wrong? With John, I mean, since I’m assuming you’re at work.”
“I am,” Carrie confirmed. “I’m in my office, with Chelsea and the kids.” “Oh.” An audible swallow. “That’s right, John told me that he was taking them to the park this afternoon. So, um, where is *he* then?” “He’s still in the conference room…with Marlena.” “Mom’s there? Is she-…is that a good thing?”
“I suppose that depends on what you’re hoping for,” Carrie replied. “I think…well, when we got there it looked to me like they had been…uh, recreating the past, if you know what I mean.” She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. She knew how painful seeing John and Marlena together at the Titan party all those years ago had been for Sami, and, despite everything, she really had no desire to force her sister to revisit that pain.
“What? Recreating the-” A small silence. “Oh.”
Carrie held her breath.
Finally, a halfhearted chuckle sounded down the line. “Funny, that table never looked all that comfortable to me, but, then, what do I know? I guess that means they’re back together then.”
She actually sounds somewhat pleased at the prospect, Carrie thought, puzzled, before finally deciding she must be mistaken. That would be too weird… “I think they *were*, but…”
Sami sighed. “But something happened, right? Of course. So what’s going on? Did Dad drop by and screw everything up?”
She *does want them together…what *is* going on? “Sort of. Did you see Brady before Chelsea left the house with the kids? Was he upset

about something?”

“No, I was upstairs when they left, but he’s been out of sorts for a while now. Did something happen with him?”
“You could say that.” Carrie rubbed her forehead tiredly. “He finally told us what was bugging him. He was afraid that Roman was going to try and replace John as his father.”
Sami let out an explosive breath. “Oooh, boy. What did John say?” “He and Marlena told Brady that would never happen. It took a bit of doing, but I think they convinced him. He seems perfectly fine now.” “So then what’s wrong?” Sami asked, reading the nuances in Carrie’s tone as easily as ever.
Carrie sighed. “Well…the reason Brady thought he might lose John was because he saw Marlena and Dad kissing.” “Damn. Oh, that poor kid…poor *John*. Is he all right?”
“I don’t think so. He didn’t say anything before I left with Brady, but he looked like someone had punched him in the stomach. Marlena didn’t look much better.”
“I’ll bet…” Sami’s voice trailed off. “I can’t believe she kissed him – most days, she doesn’t even seem to *like* him very much. But, anyway…um, did you call just to tell me that?”
I don’t know why I called, Carrie thought, but she didn’t say it aloud. “No. I was just thinking that it might be a good idea to give Brady a break from Dad for a little while. When John gets here – *if* he gets here – I’m going to ask him if Belle and Brady can have a sleepover with me tonight.”
Sami chuckled wryly. “Looks like no one wants to eat my spaghetti. I’ll try not to take it personally. So, do you want me to pack a few things for them?”
“That’d be great. Thanks.”
A small, uncomfortable silence fell. “Could I, ah, speak to Brady for a minute?” Sami finally asked.
“Sure.” Carrie called to Brady and held out the phone.
Brady jumped to his feet and raced across the room. He took the receiver with a giggle and pressed it to his ear, a wide smile breaking out across his face when he heard Sami’s voice. “Hi!….Nope….Uh-
huh….I will, promise…Okay…G’bye!” He handed the phone to Carrie
and ran back to his sister. She pressed the receiver to her ear, but

heard only the muted buzz of the dial tone.

“Thanks, sis,” she murmured softly as she dropped the receiver into
the cradle.
***
John gazed into Marlena’s eyes, wanting more than anything in the world to reach out and envelop her in an embrace. He could still feel her on his skin, taste her on his lips, smell the fragrance of her hair. The ghost of her touch burned into his flesh like a brand, and he desperately wanted to recapture the elation of an hour ago. It drew him like a siren’s song.
But the anguish in his soul, reborn from Brady’s tears, held him frozen mere feet from her. At that moment, the fear of being hurt again loomed stronger within him than any tug of desire. Don’t take the risk! Don’t take the risk! his wary brain instructed him…and his battered heart was halfway to agreeing with it.
Marlena could see the uncertainty in John’s expression, and while a part of her understood his continuing reticence, another part of her was fed up with his attitude. He forces me to live with Roman, to “confront my feelings” for him, but then he refuses to trust me when I say that I have. She felt a bone- deep exhaustion spreading outward from her heart, infecting her entire being with the grim certainty that making any decision – even the most painful one – would be better than making no decision at all. Anything is better than living in limbo for even one more day. She waited a few more moments, silently willing the man in front of her to make the leap of faith along with her. But she read his decision in his eyes, even before he realized it himself.
His mouth opened and the words “I can’t” came tumbling out. He hunched his shoulders painfully, as though the words themselves had drawn blood. “I’m sorry, Doc. I just can’t.”
Her fingers twisted the engagement ring while a welcome numbness descended upon her. And, if a dear, vital part of her soul cried out in anguish…well, the rest of her felt something akin to welcome relief. It’s over.
The ring slipped over her knuckle and off of her finger, and she placed it gently upon the conference table. “And *I* can’t wait anymore.” She met his gaze one final time, noting the tears swimming in the blue

depths of his eyes. Her own remained quite dry, and her voice held steady as she offered a final farewell. “Goodbye, John.”

She turned and left the room. The ring remained, gleaming softly in
the evening light.
Chapter 73
Carrie smiled and waved as Brady and Belle whirled by on the spinning carousel. The twirling lights captured their grinning, laughing faces, and she chuckled along with them, her memory supplying images of she and Sami and Eric from many years ago. Riding the two purple horses on the Salem Park Carousel was a required rite of childhood, and she was glad to see her younger brother and sister take part.
Her smile faded as she looked up at the man standing next to her. John watched his children with blank, unseeing eyes, his jaw clenched so tightly that Carrie marveled at her inability to hear his teeth grinding. What happened in that conference room after we left? she wondered, staring up at his grim expression. It was nothing good, I can tell that much. He’d said very little when he’d arrived at her office to pick up the children, but Carrie had taken Marlena’s absence as a very bad sign. She’d quickly offered to accompany them on their outing to the park, hoping he would feel like opening up to her, but he’d only offered nods and headshakes so far, aside from a brief discussion of the sleepover she had planned for the night. He seemed to think it was a good idea to keep Brady away from Roman for awhile. But after that one conversation, he’d lapsed into uncommunicative silence once again – at least when it came to her, though he put on a good show for the children.
Finally, it became more than she could bear. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” she asked softly, touching him lightly on the arm.
“Not really,” he muttered. He was actually surprised that she’d managed to wait as long as she had before asking, but he still had yet to formulate a good response. Better find one quick, Black, he told himself. She’s hardly the only one who is going to ask. Unseen, his fingers gripped the ring inside his jacket pocket.
Carrie took a deep breath. “I’m sure Brady misunderstood what he

saw,” she offered weakly. It wasn’t much of a defense, she knew, but, for the life of her, she couldn’t comprehend why Marlena would have been kissing Roman in front of her child.

“It’s not about that,” he finally replied, resigned to the topic. “Or it’s a lot more complicated than just one kiss. I know you must understand that.” It was more of a plea than a statement of confidence.
“I understand that *complicated* is a pretty good word to describe you and Marlena and Dad,” she replied, watching him wince as she uttered the final word. “But maybe this situation was pretty simple. Maybe *Dad* kissed *her* and Brady just walked in at the wrong time.” A muscle in his cheek twitched. “I appreciate what you’re trying to do, Carrie,” he managed after a moment. “And the fact that you care so much means more to me than I can say. But I *really* can’t talk about this with you, I’m sorry.” The music of the carousel died as the horses slowed to a halt.
Carrie nodded, accepting his words, though not without some disappointment. “I understand, John. But you really should talk to *someone* about it.”
He was saved from the necessity of replying by Brady and Belle’s sudden arrival. “C’n we go again, Daddy?” Belle asked softly as her father lifted her into his arms. Carrie regarded the little girl with no small amount of envy. She could well remember being John’s daughter, a position now solely occupied – at least technically – by the blonde charmer snuggled in his loving embrace. She’s so different from Brady, Carrie mused thoughtfully as she studied her baby sister’s childish features. Quiet, serene, more than a little shy, she often seemed like a female Tonto hovering silently behind Brady’s Lone Ranger – steadfast and loyal, but more of an appendage than a person in her own right. Her personality is so different from either of her parents’. I wonder why she seems so unsure and insecure? Carrie couldn’t see any way Belle could possibly doubt the depth of her father’s devotion; he was hugging her with all the love in the world shining from his eyes.
“Well, I suppose you could go again, but I thought you and your brother wanted some cotton candy before the salesman packs it in for the day.”
Brady tugged on his sister’s shoe, craning his neck to regard her

imploringly. “Cotton candy, Belle. They got the grape kind!”

Belle nodded and glanced back at her father. “‘Kay. Cotton candy, Daddy.”
John swung her around until she was perched on his shoulders. Belle giggled and buried her hands in his hair. He faked a groan. “Hey, Belle, you don’t want a bald Daddy, do you?” Her hands slid down from his hair to pull on his ears. “Oh, that’s much better. All right, you two, you can have one each, but only if you promise to eat all your dinner at your sister’s tonight.”
Brady grinned up at Carrie, whose hand he’d been clutching as they walked. “We will,” he promised. “We’ll be real good. C’n we watch Star Wars, too?”
Carrie mussed his hair affectionately. “You bet.”
***
Alice Horton opened her front door and – to her pleasant but somewhat baffled surprise – found Dr. Marlena Evans standing on her front porch.
Marlena offered her a wan smile as she leaned tiredly against the doorjamb. “Hello, Alice. Are you busy? Or could you spare a few minutes to talk to an old friend?”
Alice studied her neighbor’s worn expression, and a wrinkle of concern furrowed her brow. “You know I’m never too busy for you. Come in, dear.”
Alice could see the relief in the other woman’s eyes. Marlena turned and waved briefly toward the car parked in front of the Brady house. Alice could just make out the shadowed figure of a man sitting in the front seat. “Friend of yours?” she wondered as Marlena made her way inside.
“Bodyguard,” Marlena informed her succinctly, clearly not eager to elaborate. She glanced toward the stairs. “It sure is quiet in here. John-” she paused, swallowed, and took a deep breath, “-John told me about the creation of the Horton Center. I expected a full house.”
“Oh, we have one,” Alice assured her as she led her friend back toward the kitchen. The living room was fine for guests, but Marlena was family, and she looked to be desperately in need of a cup of tea…and perhaps a doughnut. “But Mickey and Maggie took all the residents to see Titanic tonight in the Center’s van. And Hope and

Shawn-D are having a nice mother-son evening.” She looked over at Marlena, her eyes twinkling. “I believe it involves pizza and a science-fiction movie about giant bugs in outer space.”

Marlena’s smile faltered at the mention of mother-son bonding. Brady’s tear-stained face still loomed large in her mind. “That sounds nice,” she told Alice a bit wistfully as she sat down at the kitchen table. She rubbed her forehead tiredly with one hand. “I happen to be avoiding a mother-daughter moment myself.” She blinked, abruptly realizing how that statement must have sounded to her hostess. “Not that it isn’t wonderful to see you,” she added in a rush.
Alice offered her an understanding smile. “Is something going on with Sami again?”
Marlena grimaced ruefully at the oblique reminder of Sami’s past – and not-quite-so-past – behavior. “No. Not since the revelation about Will’s parentage, anyway. She’s still dealing with the fallout from all of that.” She sighed and accepted the cup of tea Alice offered her, sipping at it absently without regard for the scalding hot temperature. “That’s what makes what I have to do so difficult. She’s just beginning to get her feet back underneath her again, and now I have to upset her.”
Alice sat down opposite Marlena and uncovered the plate of doughnuts, sliding it across the table. “Why do you have to upset her?”
Marlena stared blankly down at the plate for several moments. Finally, she looked up at Alice. “It seems like forever since we’ve talked,” she murmured absently as she picked up a doughnut covered with multicolored sprinkles.
Alice wondered if Marlena had even heard her question. “Yes,” she agreed. “But, then, we’ve both been busy. I have the Horton Center and the Horton family to contend with – Jack’s troubles have been time-consuming for all of us. And *you* haven’t exactly been idle since your return. Returning to work, getting engaged…” losing a child, the older woman thought, but didn’t say, “…having *two* ex-husbands return to Salem, one of them from the *dead*…” She offered Marlena a warm smile, but the other woman’s blank, troubled expression didn’t alter.
“You forgot something,” Marlena whispered, staring down at the doughnut in her left hand.

Her friend’s strange mood was really beginning to concern Alice. “Did I? What have I missed?”

“The disengagement.” She twisted her hand until Alice could see the
bare fourth finger. “I gave John his ring back tonight,” Marlena
whispered miserably. She didn’t raise her eyes to meet Alice’s
shocked gaze, instead waging a brief but successful battle to blink
back sudden tears. She bit her lip and continued, “And even though I
truly believe I did the right thing, I’m really not looking forward to telling
Sami about it.”
***
Carrie scrubbed at Belle’s sticky fingers with a wet napkin, marveling at the amount of goo the little girl had managed to smear on her face, clothes and hands from only one ball of cotton candy. “You’re a mess,” she told the child, bestowing a silly grin upon her. “Purple,” Belle informed her happily.
“You got that right.”
“Hey, Brady, my man.” Carrie looked up in time to see Brady race across the grass and vault himself into his uncle’s arms. Bo hugged him briefly, then grabbed him by the legs to dangle him upside down. Brady chortled and swiped in vain at his uncle’s kneecaps.
“I’d watch that if I were you,” Carrie told him, picking up Belle and settling her on her hip. “He just ate a *lot* of cotton candy, and if Belle is anything to judge by, the purple dye they used does *not* come out without a lot of effort.”
“Eh,” Bo grimaced, righting his nephew and setting him down on the ground. He fell to his knees to look Brady in the eye. “So, what are you two delinquents doing here in the park, huh?” he asked in mock police-interrogator mode.
“We rode the horses,” Brady proclaimed proudly. “An’ now we’re gonna go spend the night with Carrie.”
“A sleepover?” Bo got to his feet. “Well, that certainly sounds like fun.” He walked over and dropped a kiss on Belle’s forehead and one on Carrie’s cheek. “Giving John and Marlena a night out by themselves?” he murmured, waggling his eyebrows with sham lasciviousness.
She sighed and set Belle down on the ground. The little girl scampered over next to Brady, who had turned to contemplate the large goldfish swimming in the bottom of the shallow park fountain.

“Unfortunately, no. In fact, they had some kind of big blowup tonight. I

offered to take the kids to give them both a break, so Sami’s bringing
their stuff over from the house.”
Bo frowned. “Is it serious?”
Carrie bit her lip, and he could see her deep concern. “I’m afraid it’s really serious,” she admitted. “But John wouldn’t tell me any more than that. It’s too bad, too, because I really think he could use someone to talk to.”
A determined expression settled on Bo’s face. “No problem. Just tell
me – where did he go?”
***
“You gave John his ring back?” Alice repeated, astonished. “But, why?”
Marlena’s lips thinned and her fingers tightened on the doughnut. “He said he couldn’t marry me. So I figured, what’s the point of wearing the ring?” Anger darkened her expression, completely at odds with her flippant tone.
“There’s more to it than that, I’m sure,” Alice murmured.
Marlena sighed and finally looked up at her friend. “Yes, there is. You knew that John moved out of the house, didn’t you?” Alice nodded. “Well, the reason he gave for doing that was to ‘give me some time to explore my feelings for Roman,'” she explained, her voice ironic. “He wanted me to be sure that my feelings for him were genuine, and that my feelings for Roman were in the past. I objected, of course, because I couldn’t understand how he could possibly believe I didn’t know my own mind and heart better than anyone. But he insisted.” Alice nodded. “I understand. I can see his point, I suppose.”
Marlena’s eyebrows flew up. “You can?” she asked, surprised. “*Why? *”
Alice sipped her tea. “Well, I’m not doubting the strength of your feelings for him, Marlena. But John’s been through a lot in the past few years. It must seem to him that every time his life is finally in order, *something* happens to pull the rug out from under him. It’s made him a little…wary, I think – wary of trusting in any kind of permanent happy future. It’s perfectly understandable.”
“Well, I don’t think so,” Marlena muttered darkly, glaring down at the doughnut as she tore away a piece of it with two fingers. “But I went

along with it anyway, because it seemed to be the only way to get him

back. So I agreed to stay in the house with Roman for awhile.” A pile
of doughnut remains began to accumulate on her napkin. “Then, of
course, the inevitable happened.”
“That being?”
Marlena shrugged. “Roman kissed me. I mean, John knew that Roman wanted to get back together with me, and he left me alone in the house with him. What did he expect us to do, play gin rummy? Did he really believe that Roman wouldn’t try anything?” She rolled her eyes. “He knows Roman better than that.”
Alice set her cup down in its saucer, intrigued by Marlena’s offhand dismissal of Roman’s attentions. “And how did the kiss make you feel?” she asked.
Marlena shrugged again. “Fine, I guess. It was a nice kiss – very
pleasant. But, then, Roman always did know how to kiss. That’s not
the point, Alice.”
“What is the point?”
“The point is, that it didn’t *mean* anything. He kissed me, I let him – I *was* curious, I’ll admit…but that was *it*, time to move on. I didn’t even think it was important enough to mention. I made it clear to Roman that it didn’t change anything between us, or between John and me. Unfortunately, Brady saw us together, and it upset him quite a lot. He finally told John about it this evening.” The doughnut was now completely shredded; Marlena glared down at the mangled remains. “Of course, John’s response was to blow everything *completely* out of proportion and run immediately in the opposite direction. He decided we couldn’t get married.” She looked up at her friend, and Alice could see the intense pain beneath the angry frustration in her eyes. Marlena took a deep, ragged breath. “I love John. But he won’t trust that. He won’t trust *me*.” Her expression hardened and her lip curled derisively. “All because of *her*.” Alice blinked, confused. “Who?”
Marlena reached for another doughnut. “Me,” she replied simply. “The *other* me – the one who escaped from Stefano in 1991, came back to Salem, and proceeded to make the worst decisions possible at every turn. The one who destroyed her life so completely that nothing short of divine intervention could get it back on track.”

Alice was alarmed by the depth of the bitterness in Marlena’s tone. “Marlena-”

“*Don’t* defend her!” Marlena snapped. “I’m tired of listening to everyone defend her for the things she did, especially since *I’m* the one who has to pay for them!” Another doughnut ascended to pastry heaven as Marlena’s fists clenched in anger. She threw down the squashed ball of dough and shot up from her chair, stalking over to the back door and glaring out of the curtained window at the house next door. “*She* chose Roman over him, *she* had an affair with him, *she* gave birth to his illegitimate child, and then *she* rejected him once again.” Marlena whirled around and glared at Alice. “Maybe John never stopped loving her…me…*her*, but he definitely stopped trusting her, and that means he can’t trust *me*.” She crossed her arms defensively over her chest, her cheeks flushed with bitter, painful outrage. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I tried to fight it. I tried so *hard*. But nothing I did was ever good enough. I had to accept that nothing I could ever do would *undo* the pain she caused him.” She sank back into the chair and bowed her head. “So I’ve finally conceded.”

Alice put down her cup of tea and schooled her expression carefully. She took a deep breath. “Marlena Evans, I’m very disappointed in you.”
Marlena looked up at her, surprised.
***
Roman Brady stood on pier 29 and looked out over the river, wondering to himself when his life had veered so widely and irretrievably off track. Had it been as long ago as his kidnapping by Stefano? Or had the catalyst been more recent – his complete inability to forgive Marlena for the affair? Had their divorce and his departure from Salem marked a point of no return?
The subject of his ruminations was his relationship – or lack thereof – with his children. Eric had been completely uncommunicative the few times Roman had managed to get him on the phone, and Carrie seemed to function quite well with his presence in her life held to an absolute minimum. But it was Sami’s attitude that afternoon that had shaken him the most. Once he had stormed from the house, he’d remembered when he’d heard her use that particularly snide tone of

voice before…years ago…whenever she’d been speaking to Marlena. The pain the affair had caused her had manifested itself in venomous, bitter attacks against her mother, attacks that he had protested, but, he was ashamed to admit, had also quietly relished in some deep, dark corner of his soul. He knew that only rejection by her children could cause Marlena the kind of pain he’d been feeling as a result of her betrayal – and he’d wanted her to understand that pain. So even as he had encouraged Sami to repair her relationship with her mother, a part of him had quietly cheered each biting comment.

Guess you’re paying for it now, buddy, he told himself, scowling out across the water. His little Sami had grown up into a completely unrecognizable person – and one who appeared to prefer John to him. It was almost beyond his ability to fathom, for if her anger at Marlena had been daunting, her anger toward John had been nearly explosive in its intensity. And now she was apologizing to the man!
It must have happened while I was gone, Roman concluded. Or maybe…maybe it happened *because* I was gone… He was interrupted mid-realization by the sound of footfalls on the stairs at the other end of the pier. He peered through the thin, swirling mist of late twilight and discerned an approaching figure. It’s John, he realized as the man turned to stare out across the water, apparently lost in thought. A slight breeze cleared the remaining fog away, but John still didn’t seem to notice that he wasn’t alone on the dock. He gazed out over the river, his shoulders hunched protectively, his hands buried deep within the pockets of his jacket.
I wonder what’s wrong with him? Roman mused. If I were a betting man – and I am – I would bet it has something to do with Marlena. As if in reply to his unspoken question, John withdrew his hand from his pocket and held something small up in front of him. The light from one of the dock lamps hit the object, and Roman saw it sparkle. He looked from the object to John’s pained expression and came to a stunning realization – It’s the ring! It’s Marlena’s engagement ring! He watched, fascinated, as John drew his arm back in a perfect pitcher’s windup. Roman held his breath, waiting to see if John would follow through and toss the ring into the water. But after a moment, John allowed his arm to fall, his expression – if it were possible – even grimmer than before.

Suddenly, the evening didn’t seem so hopeless. If Marlena has given John back the engagement ring… A smile broke out across Roman’s face, and he turned to retrace his steps toward the stairs at the other end of the pier, treading softly so as not to interrupt John’s ruminations. There’s no need to gloat, after all, he told himself. The man has enough to deal with.

He glanced back at John one final time before ascending the steps.
So long, John.
***
“What do you mean you’re disappointed in me?” Marlena asked, her tone more curious than angry.
Alice regarded her calmly. “You are one of the most compassionate, loving women I have ever known, Marlena,” she said. “I am disappointed that you are judging yourself so harshly. It’s most unlike you not to give someone the benefit of the doubt.” Marlena opened her mouth to protest, but Alice held up a quelling hand. “And make no mistake, it is *yourself* that you are judging. The Marlena of your missing years is *you*, and she was…*is*…a wonderful woman, in spite of what you think.”
Marlena glared down at the plate of doughnuts. Ever mindful of waste, Alice deftly slid them out of her reach, and the corner of Marlena’s mouth quirked ruefully with momentary amusement. “I wish I could agree with you,” she muttered under her breath.
“You can’t,” Alice replied simply. “You can’t, because to agree with me, you would have to admit that you share her failings – or what you perceive as failings, anyway.”
Marlena looked up at her, intrigued by her words in spite of herself. “What do you mean?”
Alice contemplated the tea in her cup, debating how to begin. “I was here,” she finally said. “I was here through it all – watching, worrying…” She glanced at Marlena over the rim of the china. “It is very difficult to watch those you love go through that kind of pain, knowing there is nothing you can do to change it.” She looked down into the cup again. “I remember how difficult it was for you, to come back to Salem to find that everything had changed. To find out that John was engaged to Isabella, and that your children didn’t even remember you.”
Marlena averted her gaze, swallowing uneasily. “I can relate, I think.”

Alice cocked her head to one side. “Perhaps. But there are a great many differences between the situation you faced then, and the situation you faced when you woke up with amnesia months ago.”

Marlena raised an eyebrow. “Not that many, I could argue.” She held up her hand and ticked off her points finger by finger. “Finding out that John wasn’t Roman. Finding out that my children were years older than I remembered. Finding out that the man I loved had a pregnant fiancee waiting in the wings. Roman coming back, attempting to reclaim me.” She shut her eyes, pained. “Sounds disturbingly similar to me, frankly.”
“With one key difference,” Alice interjected. “John.”
Marlena opened her eyes. “What about him?”
“You had John this time, dear,” Alice pointed out. “A John who only wanted to help you, who placed your feelings and your well-being above any other considerations. A John who knew who he was and what he wanted.” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “A John who wasn’t reeling from the loss of an identity – and a family – that he loved more than anything.”
Marlena’s throat went dry, her eyes suddenly burning with unshed tears at the mental picture Alice’s words created. “I didn’t mean to do that to him,” she protested faintly.
“I know that, dear,” Alice assured her. “He knew it, too. He never blamed you. But it was a devastating blow to him, and it took him a long time to recover.” She paused to sip her tea. “You said earlier that she…*you*…chose Roman over him, but that isn’t quite the way it happened. It was much more…mutual than that. John needed to establish his identity separate from Roman Brady. You and Roman needed to reclaim your lives again. And you did love Roman, after all, and John did love Isabella. The solution you all came up with – it wasn’t perfect nor was it particularly fair, but it came out of the best of intentions.” Alice leaned forward and took Marlena’s hand in hers. “And who is to say it wasn’t the proper solution, hmm? If Isabella hadn’t died…”
“If Isabella hadn’t died, I probably wouldn’t have committed adultery?” Marlena finished bitterly. She pulled her fingers from Alice’s grasp, uncomfortable with words that were striking a little too close to home. “That doesn’t say much for me-…for *her*, does it?”

“It says that you could remain detached from John only so long as you knew he was happy, not when you knew he was hurting,” Alice said. “It says that you are a loving, compassionate woman, just as I told you.” Marlena shook her head stubbornly and stood up again, pacing across the kitchen toward the refrigerator. “Marlena,” Alice began again, determined to make her point, “I don’t understand why you’re judging *your* actions with a great deal less empathy than you would a patient of yours in the same position.”

Marlena’s abortive laugh was hollow. “I’ve never tried to pattern my life according to my patients’ actions, Alice,” she said. “I’m supposed to-” she shook her head “-I’m supposed to do better than that.”
Alice smiled in understanding. “It’s a bit disconcerting to discover you’re not perfect, isn’t it?” she replied. “For most of us, the realization comes much earlier in life. I don’t know whether to be envious of you or not.”
Marlena’s cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. “I never said I was perfect,” she mumbled under her breath.
“Of course not, dear. You didn’t *know*. If you had realized it, it wouldn’t have been true.” A thread of laughter ran through Alice’s sympathetic tone, but she soon turned serious again. “I’m not saying you didn’t make mistakes, Marlena. But they were understandable…they were *forgivable*. And the last thing you *ever* wanted to do was hurt the people you loved – including John. And don’t forget, you have the advantage of twenty-twenty hindsight now, and what seems clear to you now may have been much less so years ago.”
Marlena sighed, nodded, and collapsed back into her chair. “All right.” She leaned forward and massaged her temples gently. “Maybe I have been a little to hard on her-” she paused, letting out an explosive breath, “-on *me*. Maybe it was simply easier to blame my actions during those lost years for my inability to control my life now.” She opened her eyes and pinned Alice with a suddenly determined hazel gaze. “But that’s over. I *am* in charge of my life now. And I know what I have to do.” She braced her hands on the edge of the table and pushed herself up.
Alice looked up at her, curious. “And what’s that, dear?”
Marlena merely smiled. “Thanks for the tea, Alice. Sorry about the

doughnuts.”

***
Bo stood at the top of the stairs that led down to Pier 29, studying the man who, in some ways, was closer to him than his own older brother. He could see utter defeat in the line of John’s slumped shoulders, and, as he walked down the steps, he spared a moment to hope that John’s confrontation with Marlena hadn’t been quite as bad as his appearance suggested. *Something* had definitely happened, however, because he’d managed to get far too close to the other man without John noticing. His erstwhile brother’s cop instincts were clearly vacationing elsewhere that evening.
Bo opened his mouth to call out John’s name, but before he could do
so, his gaze caught on the object John was holding up in the wavering
lamplight. A ring. A beautiful diamond and emerald ring. An
engagement ring, Bo realized, briefly closing his eyes in pained
sympathy. Dammit, John, I’m so sorry. He gently cleared his throat
and, when John turned to regard him with something akin to numbed
surprise, offered him a tentative greeting. “Hey, bro. You look like you
could use a friend.”
***
Roman unlocked the front door of the Brady house and slipped inside, determined to offer his daughter a cheerful, yet commandingly paternal greeting. The renewed hope he felt with regard to Marlena had spilled over into his aspirations concerning his children. “Sami?” he called up the stairs as he hung his jacket on the coatrack.
“She’s not here,” Marlena offered in an unreadable tone, rising from her position on the couch. Roman bit back a startled curse as she held up a piece of notebook paper. “Apparently, she took Will over to Carrie’s for dinner,” she continued, nodding her agreement as his eyebrows flew up in surprise. “I know, it caught me off guard, too. Apparently, Brady and Belle are spending the night with Carrie – with the permission of their father – and Sami delivered their clothes and toothbrushes.”
Roman’s gaze narrowed. Something in her voice when she said the
word ‘father’…sounds like someone forgot to tell her what was up…
“So it’s just us tonight?” he queried cheerfully, catching sight of her bare ring finger. Great!

Marlena nodded, standing up and turning to face him. “It’s just us.” She smiled. “And I’m glad about that, actually, because you and I need to talk. Alone.”

Roman’s heartbeat quickened in response to her tantalizing nearness.
He smiled back. “I’m all yours.”
Chapter 74
Marlena could almost see the wheels turning in Roman’s mind the moment she’d informed him she wanted to talk with him alone. A small, pleased grin had quirked the corner of his mouth momentarily before he’d managed to quash it. He sat down on the couch and gazed up at her expectantly. He seems entirely too confident, she mused, wracking her memory for even one word or event that could have encouraged him to believe there was hope for a future together. She came up blank. Well, I don’t suppose it matters much now, anyway.
“Doc?” he prompted her when she failed to speak further.
Marlena sat down on the other end of the couch, leaving a careful cushions-worth of distance between. Gathering her thoughts, she smoothed the line of her skirt. “I have something very important to tell you,” she began, looking up to meet his somehow knowing, entirely-too-smug gaze. “Something has happened.” ***

John regarded Bo blankly for a moment, before turning back to contemplate the water. “Bo,” he murmured softly. It wasn’t really a greeting, but more of an absent, unemotional identification of the man standing next to him.
Bo waited for him to continue, but John said nothing else – he merely stared out over the river and clutched at the ring between his fingers. Bo looked from the ring to John’s face, a deep feeling of foreboding uncurling in his stomach. This is bad. This is really, really bad. “C’mon, John,” he urged, giving the other man a brotherly nudge on the arm. “Talk to me, man. Tell me what happened.” ***

Carrie popped a loaf of garlic bread in the oven and slammed the door shut just as Sami emerged from the back bedroom of the apartment. “Are they all settled in?” Carrie asked, more to fill the awkward silence that fell between them than anything else. She and Sami had been

tiptoeing around one another like wary strangers ever since Sami and Will had arrived with Belle and Brady’s belongings in tow. Carrie wasn’t sure what had possessed her to invite her sister to dinner, or what had prompted Sami to accept. But she was conscious of feeling a deep sense of loss every time she observed the close relationship between her youngest brother and sister. The happy memories of her own childhood beckoned to her through the painful mist of Sami’s more recent behavior, and she realized that, deep down, a part of her desperately wanted her little sister back, no matter what horrible things Sami had done. Not a likely prospect, Carrie told herself, less than eager for the pain of rejection. But I have to try. And now that she seems to have given up on Austin… She shook her head slightly and turned back to the task at hand. “Are they enjoying the video?” she asked, reaching into the cabinet for some plates. Brady, Belle and Will were presently reversing the order of dinner-and-a-movie to celebrate their sleepover.

Sami rolled her eyes and plopped down into a chair next to the table. “Positively entranced. You know, I never realized how incredibly mind-numbing children’s television was until Will developed his Barney obsession. One more verse of that damn song and I *will* put my fist through a wall.”
Carrie carried a stack of plates over to the table and set them down. “I know what you mean. I’ve been trying to recall what you and Eric and I used to watch – it seems like it just *had* to have been better. But the only thing I can remember very well is Eric’s unfortunate Ninja Turtle phase.”
Sami nodded as she distributed the silverware. “You know what’s scary? Sometimes I watch Sesame Street with Will, and some of the skits actually look familiar. I don’t know if that says something about the lack of adequate funding for public television or if it indicates the insidious ability of Bert and Ernie to invade your brain.” She closed her eyes and held up her hands in a passable imitation of the Count. “Vahn, two, threeeeee!”
The sound of a knock on the door interrupted their laughter. “I’ll get it,” Carrie said. “You check on the spaghetti sauce.” She paused with her hand on the doorknob to look back over her shoulder. “Hey – does this sound familiar?” She raised her voice to Miss-Piggy-Muppet-pitch and

sang, “‘Pigs in SPAAAAAAAACE!'”

Sami choked on a spoonful of sauce and muttered a cheerful curse as the red liquid dripped down her hand. Grinning triumphantly, Carrie flung the door wide. Her mouth fell open in an ‘o’ of surprise as she beheld Austin and Lucas standing in the hallway, both looking a little the worse for wear. Sami’s laughter brought a frown to their faces, which deepened when they both entered the apartment and caught sight of her. “What the hell is *she* doing here?” Lucas hissed at Carrie.
A gleam of hurt flashed in Sami’s eyes before her expression hardened into an accustomed mask of indifference. “*I* was invited, Lucas,” she replied sarcastically, her fingers tightening on the spoon. “So I guess the question really is, what the hell are *you* doing here?” As one, Austin and Lucas turned accusing glares toward Carrie, who sighed, resigned. This is the absolutely perfect topper to what has truly become the day from hell…I can only hope that John and Marlena are having better luck. She pinned a less-than-convincing smile of welcome on her face. “So…are you guys hungry?” ***

“John?” Bo prompted.
“Let it go, kid,” John replied, his gaze never wavering form the water. “It doesn’t matter.”
Kid! Bo thought, annoyed. He only calls me that when he wants to tick me off…too bad he knows me so well. “It matters if you’ve been as big an idiot as I think you have,” he snapped. “That’s Marlena’s engagement ring, isn’t it?” After a long painful moment, John nodded wordlessly. Bo made a sound of disgust deep in his throat. “What the hell did you do, man?”
John swallowed convulsively, a pang of exquisitely painful gratitude touching his heart upon hearing the concern in Bo’s voice that sounded clearly through his angry words. Try as he might, John had never been able to resist the scruffy lure of his ersatz younger brother, and no matter how much he might have wanted to brush Bo off, the memory of one dark night of DNA tests results years ago would never allow him to do so. He still remembered the way Bo had offered unremitting support, in spite of Roman’s claims on his identity. The moment the ISA had tried to take John into ‘protective’ custody upon

the revelation that he was not, in fact, Roman Brady, Bo had leapt to his defense and helped him escape. Even Marlena had needed a moment to recover from the shock of the news – but it hadn’t mattered to Bo. And he’d never even expected a thank you.

“I lost her,” John finally managed through the emotion clogging his throat. “I lost her, Bo, for good this time. And I don’t have anyone to blame for it but myself.”
Beside him, Bo closed his eyes in pained sympathy. I’m sorry, John. I
know *exactly* how that feels, and I’m so incredibly sorry. He reached
up to place a comforting hand on John’s shoulder. “C’mon, bro. Just
tell me what happened.”
***
Roman inched closer to Marlena on the couch. “You have something important to tell me,” he prompted expectantly as he tried to curb the eagerness in his tone.
Marlena stared down at her hands. “Yes. Something happened at Titan today. Something very…disturbing.” She closed her eyes. “And it caused me to make an important decision.”
Since she couldn’t see it, Roman allowed his smile free reign, his own gaze locked on her bare ring finger. “What decision, Doc?”
She opened her eyes again and glanced at Sami’s note, which rested on the coffee table. “I suppose it’s probably just as well that the kids are staying at Carrie’s. I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to be around Brady for awhile.” She raised her gaze to meet his. “John and I found out today that he saw you kiss me.”
“He- what?” Roman stuttered, momentarily confused by her unexpected non sequitur. “How? When?”
She eyed him strangely. “What do you mean, ‘when’? You only kissed me once, Roman. Obviously Brady had yet to go to sleep that night and came downstairs for some reason.” She shook her head. “The specifics don’t matter, but the result was terrifying for him. Seeing us caused Brady to fear that you were trying to take his father’s place, the way he believes you did with Carrie, Eric, and Sami – and so he became very upset. That’s why he’s been acting so strangely lately.”
Roman sat back against the cushions, a bit stunned. “I had no idea, Doc.”
She nodded. “I know. I didn’t, either,” she compressed her lips in self-

reproach, “and I *should* have. I don’t know how we could have expected the children to understand this whole crazy situation when we can’t even get a handle on it ourselves.” She shrugged, acknowledging the futility of trying to change the past. “Anyway, that’s what led to my decision.”

Ah, now we’re coming to the point… Roman thought, mentally schooling himself to exhibit surprise at the news of her breakup with John. “What decision?”
Marlena regarded him calmly. “I think I’m going to ask Carrie if she can keep the kids tomorrow night as well. And then, this weekend when I have the day free, the kids and I…” she exhaled softly and squared her shoulders, “…the kids and I are moving out.” ***

“Then I told her I couldn’t marry her,” John concluded in a low, pained voice, avoiding meeting Bo’s incredulous gaze. “And she gave me the ring back.”
Bo bit back a startled curse. “So…you’re telling me this was *your* idea?”
“It wasn’t what I wanted – *isn’t* what I want. I just-” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know…I’m just so damn confused, Bo.”
“No kidding,” Bo muttered under his breath. “Look, I don’t get it, man. Marlena *loves* you – she wants to *marry* you. Why don’t you just accept it and get on with your life together?”
“Don’t you think I want to?” John retorted. “My God, Bo, there’s nothing in the world I want more! But every time I look at her, I can’t help but wonder if it’s *him* she really wants.”
Bo considered that. “So this is about Roman, then?”
“Yes!” He paused, then shook his head. “No. Oh, I don’t know. He’s a part of it, but…but I guess it has more to do with me than him.” He bowed his head and his voice became muffled. “I just can’t trust it.” Bo frowned. “Can’t trust Marlena?”
John winced as he remembered his harsh words to just that effect mere hours ago – She looked so hurt and angry… “Well, that’s what I said, but…no. That’s not really true.” He shook his head. “You see, when I don’t stop to think about it, when I just feel what’s in my heart, I trust her more than I’ve ever trusted anyone, Bo. But when I start thinking…and remembering…” he hunched his shoulders defensively,

“…then I just freeze. I can’t say what she wants to hear, I can’t feel what she wants me to feel.” He looked down at his fist and slowly uncurled his fingers, revealing the gleaming ring again. “It’s not fair to her, Bo,” he murmured sadly.

“So you’re just giving up,” Bo finished, his tone a surprising mixture of derision and compassion. John looked up at him, curious. “You think I don’t get it, man?” Bo continued softly, rueful humor lighting his dark eyes. “You’re talking to the one man in the universe who probably *does* understand.”
John sighed and closed his eyes, raising his face to the stars to catch the night breeze. “Then could you explain it to *me*, please?” he implored. “Because even *I* don’t get myself these days.”
“You’re scared,” Bo replied simply. “Scared out of your mind. Scareder than you’ve ever been.”
John froze momentarily, considering his words, but he finally shook his head. “I don’t think-”
“You *can’t* lose her again,” Bo insisted, his eyes gleaming with intensity as he studied his brother. “If you ever lost her again, the pain would kill you, and so you can’t take the risk. You have to get away, to bury the feelings, before they consume you. You have to leave her before she leaves you.”
John regarded Bo dazedly, his mouth slightly open in shock. “How-” Bo smiled a little. “I told you, man. I’ve been there, and I know exactly where you’re coming from. You remember when Hope came back, don’t you?” He didn’t wait for a reply. “Of course, you do. You’re the one that rescued her from Stefano down in New Orleans. Do you remember how I reacted after it happened?”
John nodded slowly. “Yes. You didn’t believe it was her. But, Bo, that was totally understandable. Stefano-”
“Yeah, yeah,” Bo cut in, “Stefano had her and he loves to play mix and match with other people’s identities. So I had every right to be wary of believing ‘Gina’ was Hope.” Fleeting chagrin crossed his face, and he averted his gaze guiltily. “But I didn’t have the right to *wish* for her not to be.”
John blinked, stunned. “What?”
Bo shrugged and turned to look out over the water. “I guess you missed most of that, what with finding out you used to be a priest and

all. Well, I practically jumped through hoops trying to prove to Billie and everyone else that there was no possible way Gina could be Hope.”

“But…um, you *loved* Billie…”
Bo nodded, tight-lipped. “Yeah. But, you know, I could have loved Billie and wished for my son’s mother to still be alive. That’s what someone who wasn’t being a selfish bastard would have done.” “So why didn’t you?” John asked quietly.
The light from the water reflected against Bo’s contemplative expression. “Oh, a lot of reasons, I guess. I didn’t want to believe that I’d abandoned my search for her too quickly, without sufficient proof that she was dead – that I’d left her to fend for herself for *four* years, that I’d left her in Stefano’s clutches.” John nodded. “I can relate to that.”
Bo’s lip quirked sardonically. “I know you can. God, the parallels are creepy. But those weren’t the only reasons…” “What else?”

Bo crossed his arms over his chest, the leather of his jacket squeaking in the chill air. “Do you remember what I was like after Hope disappeared with Ernesto?” His bleak tone and desolate expression mirrored the devastation of that long-ago explosion. John suppressed a slight shudder. “All too well.”
Bo nodded, his eyes faraway. “I wanted to die,” he admitted quietly. “Literally, and that’s no exaggeration. If it weren’t for Shawn-D…”
John quashed a sudden urge to wrap his arm around the younger man, who looked so cold and alone standing there in the moonlight. “I understand.”
Bo turned to look at him. “I know you do. I know you understand exactly how much pain that is…and why you’d do anything in the universe to avoid feeling it again. Don’t you see? I couldn’t let myself believe that Gina was Hope when there was no way to prove it one way or another. Because if I let myself believe it – if I let myself start loving her again with all my heart and soul – and then it turned out that she *wasn’t* Hope…”
“It would have been devastating,” John finished, nodding his understanding.
“Completely,” Bo agreed. “So it was easier for me to just force myself

to think of her as Gina and focus on my life with Billie.”

“But you loved Billie,” John pointed out once again.
“Yes,” Bo admitted. He closed his eyes, too ashamed to meet John’s gaze as he continued, “But if she had died…I wouldn’t have wanted to die with her. I could have lived with it.” John didn’t know what to say to that. “Oh.”
Bo snorted ruefully. “I guess ‘oh’ is as good a reaction as any. Look, John, it’s not like I was doing it on purpose – it took me a long time to figure out whey the sight of ‘Gina’ made me want to run the other way. See, Hope and I have had this connection ever since we were little kids…there was a part of me that just *knew* the truth. But I couldn’t let myself listen to it. I couldn’t take the risk. And because of that, I almost lost her for good.”
John studied the currents and eddies of the river for a few silent moments. “I understand what you’re saying, Bo,” he murmured finally. “But I can’t see that the parallels are all that exact. After all, I *know* who Marlena is, and I know that she’s the woman I want to be with.”
“But you don’t know if you’re the man *she* wants,” Bo concluded, claiming a direct hit as John visibly flinched. “Yeah, well, I know a little bit about that, too, bro. Does the name Franco ring a bell?”
John rolled his eyes. “Oh, come on, Bo, there was never anything between Hope and Franco.”
“I *know* that,” Bo replied sharply. “Don’t you think I know that? Don’t you think I realize that I totally *blew* my chance with Hope over a relationship that never even existed?!?” Bo paused, taking a deep, calming breath. “I was afraid, man, just as afraid as you are now. I didn’t want to confront Hope only to hear her tell me that she was in love with him…so I ran.” His voice cracked painfully. “All the way to Italy, dammit! I thought if I could just put enough distance between us, somehow I could outrun the pain.”
Bo’s argument hit John a little too close to home, and he shifted on his feet uncomfortably. “So, where did getting Billie pregnant come in?” he asked, going on the attack to cover his own vulnerability.
Bo scowled at him. “Low blow, John.” He sighed. “But you’re right, okay? It was stupid – *I* was stupid, but I don’t need you to punish me for it, because Hope’s doing a damn fine job of that all by herself. For her, finding out that Billie was pregnant was the final nail in the coffin

of our relationship.” His gaze narrowed. “And there’s where you’ve got one up on me, John, because Marlena has accepted Kristen having *your* baby.”

“That situation is completely different, Bo,” John protested.
“Is it?” Bo asked. “From where I sit, you’ve been just as big of an idiot as I have. The only difference is, Hope has given up on me, and Marlena *hasn’t* given up on you. Or she hasn’t yet, anyway – but if you keep jerking her around the way you have been, one day you might turn around and she *won’t* be there.”
John held up the ring. “That day has already arrived, Bo.”
Bo shook his head. “No, it hasn’t. Not completely. She was making a statement, John. She was telling you that you have to have faith in what’s between you for your relationship to work. If you went to her right now and told her you could do that, that ring would be back on her finger faster than you could say ‘Honeymoon in Paris’.”
John contemplated the gleaming ring for a moment, then looked back up at Bo. Bo winced upon seeing the pain and confusion still evident in his eyes. “And if that’s a lie?” John asked quietly.
“Then you really are screwed,” Bo replied flatly. “And you’re going to
regret it for the rest of your life.”
***
“Moving out?” Roman repeated blankly. “I don’t-…I don’t understand, Marlena.”
Her brow furrowed. “It’s pretty simple, Roman. We reassured Brady today, but it’s obvious that living with you is making him very uncomfortable, and it’s my responsibility to protect him.”
Roman sat back, reeling from her news. She was supposed to tell me she and John broke up! a part of him protested. He inhaled deeply and tried to wrench his expression into a mask of neutrality. “But I thought the new house wasn’t ready yet,” he managed after a moment.
Her expression darkened. “It’s not. But that doesn’t matter, because we aren’t moving to the house. We’re going back to my Penthouse. I called the super today and found out that John’s still paying rent on it, until we could figure out what to do with all my belongings.” She looked down at her hands. “It has everything we need already, and it’s familiar to Belle and Brady, so the transition won’t be as jarring for

them as it would be if we went somewhere else.”

Roman frowned. “The Penthouse? But what about John?” he asked, confused. Did he break up with her because she wouldn’t follow through on his plan to live with me and work out her feelings for me? That seems a little extreme…
Marlena’s jaw tightened fractionally. “What about him?”
Damn, it’s like pulling teeth here… “How does *he* feel about all of this?”
She shook her head. “I haven’t told him yet, but I don’t suppose it will matter. Apparently, the children and I lived quite happily at the Penthouse before Stefano took me, and since there’s no evidence to suggest that Stefano’s still alive…” She allowed the sentence to trail off unfinished.
“That’s not what I meant,” he replied, slightly exasperated. Okay, *fine*, we’ll do it your way… “I saw John on the pier tonight.”
She looked up at him as a fleeting glimmer of pain lit her eyes, but her tone was a study in disinterest. “So?”
“So, he was holding your ring, Doc, looking like he’d just lost everything.”
Her set expression didn’t waver. “I repeat, *so*?”
Roman was beginning to get frustrated with her deliberate obtuseness. “*SO*, are you engaged, or aren’t you?”
She got up from the couch and walked over toward the french doors. “I really don’t see how that is any of your business, Roman,” she replied in a distant tone, staring out across the front lawn.
“Not my business!” he sputtered. “Of course, it’s my business!” Marlena rounded on him. “Why? My relationship with John has *nothing* to do with you.”
Roman stared at her, stunned. “How can you say that? It has *everything* to do with me.”
A bitter smile curved her lips. “You think so? Why? Because *you* get to have me if he and I don’t work out?” Her tone dripped sarcasm. “I’m not a bone for you two to fight over, nor the prize in some ridiculous macho contest.”
“No, of course not,” he replied, chagrined. “I just thought-” He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his unruly hair. This is *not* going well… “I’m sorry, Doc. It’s just…I keep forgetting how much you don’t

remember.”

She scowled at him, her hands on her hips. “What is that supposed to mean?”
He shook his head and sat back against the cushion, sighing heavily. “I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the days before I left town – about how stupid I was to let my pride and anger blind me to the efforts you were making to repair our relationship.”
“Oh.” She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, wondering at the sudden turn in conversation. “I don’t really know that much about that time. John told me that I did everything I could to convince you not to leave, but…”
“You did,” he assured her. “You did everything you could and more.” A sad smile of remembrance ghosted across his face. “You even filled a warehouse full of pictures of our life together, just to make me remember all that I would be giving up if I left.”
Her cheeks flushed, but whether with embarrassment or anger, Roman couldn’t tell. “It didn’t work, obviously.”
He stared at her, his gaze piercing. “Oh, I don’t know, I think it worked pretty well. I mean, it didn’t stop me from leaving, or from demanding you sign the divorce papers, but it *did* make me remember…just when I wanted the most to forget.”
She cocked her head, trying to decipher his rueful tone. “Well,” she said after a moment, “I’d apologize, but it seems meaningless to apologize for something I don’t remember doing.”
“Yeah, that’s kind of been your attitude ever since I got back, hasn’t it?” Try as he might, Roman couldn’t keep the slightest trace of bitterness from his voice.
Marlena straightened, her expressionless mask snapping back into place. “This is pointless, Roman. I’ve made it very clear how I feel about you, and the state of my relationship with John is none of your concern.” She turned toward the stairs, but Roman’s next question brought her up short.
“Did he end it? Or did you?”
The sheer effrontery of the query brought her back around, eyes blazing, hands fisted at her side. “My *God*, what does it take to get *through* to you?”
“You said you would always love me,” he replied in a subdued tone,

and she stepped back, tilted off balance again by the change in topic. “What?”

“When I left,” he continued, his gaze never leaving her face. “You said you would always love me, and I knew I would always love you.” He took a deep breath and plunged onward, “I didn’t leave town because I stopped loving you, Doc…I left because I couldn’t accept that a part of your heart would always belong to John.” He waited a few seconds for some kind of response, but she merely stared at him wordlessly. He closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his courage. This isn’t going exactly like I had planned, Doc… “I can accept it now,” he murmured softly.
Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open in shock. “What?” she repeated, her voice a mere whisper.
Well, she didn’t punch me out, Roman told himself encouragingly. Of course, she *is* all the way across the room… “I said I can accept your feelings for John now. It took me a long time to understand that what you felt for him all those years ago didn’t change the way you felt about me. And you did choose *me* after all, after the affair. At the time I was too hurt to see that, I guess. But I understand it now.” Her eyes narrowed. “What exactly are you saying, Roman?”
“You and John broke up,” he told her, watching her flinch at the stark words. “I know you, Doc. You wouldn’t have given him the ring back if you thought there was some hope for the two of you. And maybe you’re correct when you say I don’t have any right to know the specifics, so I won’t ask you again to tell me why it happened.” He managed a small smile. “I think I have a pretty good idea, though. After all, you were happy enough before I showed up here again. I won’t say I’m sorry for coming back, but I do regret any additional pain I’ve caused you.” He paused for a moment, letting the words sink in, before taking another deep breath and continuing, “But I refuse to let my foolish pride stand in the way like I did before, so I’m going to tell you exactly how I feel about this.” He stood up from the couch and took a few steps toward her, utter sincerity suffusing his tone. “I love you, Marlena, and I know that a part of you still loves me. More than anything, I want us to have a future together.”
Her jaw dropped, and he watched as she emitted a strangled laugh, her arms coming up to hold her stomach. “You-” she gasped, nearly

doubling over, “you want a *future* together?”

He stepped forward, reaching cautiously for her arm. “Yes, Doc,” he replied softly. “I want that more than anything.”
She yanked her arm away, swift, devastating anger darkening her expression. “Well, I don’t care *what* you want!” she hissed. “My *God*, Roman, how *dare* you say that to me!”
He drew back, wincing at her thunderous scowl. Nope, not how I planned it at all… “It’s the truth,” he countered in a small voice. “*Damn* your truth!” she snapped back. “I just lost the man I *love*, Roman. I returned my engagement ring to him and tried to hide the fact that my heart was breaking into a million pieces! How can you possibly imagine that I want to hear you say you *love* me right now? That’s the *last* thing I want to hear!”
“I know you’re hurting,” he said, attempting to placate her. “But-”
“You *know*!” she retorted in scathing tones. “You don’t know anything, Roman Brady! All you can do is belittle the depth of my feelings for John and dismiss our relationship like it never meant anything. You say you can ‘accept’ my feelings now?” She leaned forward, enunciating each word with a jab to his chest with her finger. “*I* *don’t* *CARE*!” He stared down at her with wide eyes. “Maybe I did say I would always love you,” she continued bitterly. “Maybe I even believed it when I said it, I don’t know. It’s not like I understand anything about the person I was back then.” Her gaze narrowed on his frozen face. “But you know what? I’m beginning to think you didn’t know me at all, either.” She tilted her head to the side, struck by her own statement. The explosive anger slowly drained from her features, leaving cold, implacable, hostile determination. “Well, you’ve had your chance to tell your side,” she muttered, her tone leaving no doubt as to what she thought of his statements. She placed her hands on his chest and gave him a none-too-gentle shove back down on the couch. He landed with a thump.

Marlena stood over him, her chest still heaving with outrage, and Roman literally felt his heart sink at the malice glittering in her eyes. He’d clearly somehow managed to tap into a deep wellspring of long-denied bitter fury. I’ve made a major miscalculation, he realized. Marlena glared down at him. “Now it’s my turn.”
Chapter 75

“Do you have any idea how I felt all those years ago when Bo called me to tell me you’d died on Stefano’s wretched island?” Marlena’s tone was low and menacing as she glared down at Roman, who was doing his best not to shrink away from her obvious anger. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch.

“I assume you were upset,” he ventured cautiously, wondering at the sudden shift in conversation.
Marlena rolled her eyes. “Upset. Yes, I suppose you could say I was upset. You could also say that I was furious.”
Roman nodded. “Well, I figured that, especially knowing that you actually shot Stefano a few months later.” As sick as it was, he felt the accustomed glowing warmth in his heart over the realization that she’d been willing to kill for his sake.
She rolled her eyes again. “I’m not talking about how I felt about Stefano, though I did indeed loathe him. I’m talking about how I felt about you.”
“You were angry with *me*?” he asked, surprised.
“You *left* me,” she stated flatly, tossing her hair back. “You left me alone with our three small children to go off and chase a lunatic.” “That was for *Bo*,” he protested. “He-”
“Maybe it was!” she snapped, whirling around to stalk toward the french doors. “Maybe that time it was for your family, but you and I both know that wasn’t always true. We came in second to your job over and over again – the *great* Roman Brady, destined to save the world, no matter what it did to the ones he left behind! You’ve practically made a lifelong habit of it!”
Roman shot up from the couch, fury kindling in his eyes. “Is *that* what this is all about?” he asked incredulously. “Is *that* why you’ve been treating me like crap ever since I came back to Salem? Because you’re angry with me for falling off that damn cliff? That’s crazy, Doc.”
She snorted derisively. “*I’m* the one who decides what’s crazy, remember, Roman? And that’s not what this is about. It has nothing to do with our relationship – or lack thereof – right now. I was mad for a long time, yes, but I got over it *years* ago.” She shrugged dismissively, and the casual gesture further inflamed Roman’s fury.
His lip curled. “Sure, you did, Doc,” he replied nastily. “When John *F***ING* Black showed up and convinced you he was me!”

Her head snapped around and she glared daggers at him. “Don’t you *ever* talk about him like that again,” she hissed, her eyes turning almost black with rage. “You don’t know anything about him! You don’t know anything about what happened back then, and you sure as *hell* don’t know anything about how I *felt* about what happened then!”

Roman turned his back on her and tried to wrench his seething emotions back under control. “I know everything I need to know,” he replied coldly.
“Do you?” Bitter sarcasm dripped from her tone. “Well, I don’t think you have a clue, but, then, when have you *ever* listened to what anybody else thinks? After all, the *great* Roman Brady knows everything!”
“*Stop* calling me that!” he retorted, running a agitated hand through his disheveled curls.
“I’ll stop saying it when you stop acting it,” she replied frostily. “You don’t know *anything* about what happened to me while you were gone those eight years, do you? If it didn’t involve you, then it wasn’t important enough to know, right? Tell me something, Roman – was it because I didn’t want to tell you, or-” the sarcasm continued blasting full force “-did *you* just not want to hear it?”
Roman took a few deep calming breaths and slowly counted to ten. This isn’t getting you anywhere, man. Yelling at her is *not* going to help things. She’s just upset about John right now. Do *not* blow this. “I suppose it was a little of both,” he managed to say calmly as he turned to face her.
She was surprised by his sudden change in attitude…and more than a little bit suspicious. “I see.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I happen to be perfectly willing to enlighten you, if you think you can handle it.”
His shoulders stiffened, but he refused to take the bait. He sat back down on the couch and gazed up at her expectantly. “Go ahead.” ***

Kristen took a small sip of her disgustingly caffeine-free cappucino and offered the hovering waitress a sour smile. She’d been sitting at the table in front of the Java Cafe for over an hour, still nursing her first drink, and the waitress was clearly becoming vexed. Good, Kristen thought maliciously. Why should I be the only one to have a

lousy day? She gazed out across the expanse of the mall toward the lighted cineplex, the only other place still open. The rest of the shops had just closed for the evening, and the crowd which had provided her with a minimal sense of security was beginning to disperse. She shivered and took another sip of the warm beverage, trying to dispel the chill that had pervaded her entire being ever since the impromptu family visit with Stefano. I may have dodged a lethal bullet this time…but so many things could still go wrong, and if Stefano ever discovers what I’ve done… Needless to say, the idea of returning to her empty, spooky house full of cobwebs and secret rooms held very little appeal. So she found herself sitting at a table in front of the mall, wondering what to do next.

“Kristen, is that you? Ohmigosh, how *are* you?”
Billie’s cheerful greeting brought Kristen out of her gloomy reverie. She looked up to find her friend standing next to the table, an abundance of shopping bags dangling from each hand. Kristen’s gaze caught on the slight swelling of Billie’s belly, and she felt her smile of welcome freeze on her face. She swallowed. “Hello, Billie.”
Billie grinned at her, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “Mind if I join you for a minute? I’ve been shopping for hours, and I’m absolutely beat.” “Oh, sure. No problem.”
Billie’s smile turned rueful as she eased onto a vacant stool and signalled to the waitress. “I used to be able to shop all day without stopping, but carrying around the extra weight really gets to you. I guess I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know, though, huh?”
Kristen blinked back sudden tears, her fingers tightening involuntarily against her pregnancy pillow. “No, of course not.” She closed her eyes momentarily and took a deep breath as Billie gave her order to the surly waitress. She opened them to find Billie staring at the woman’s retreating back, a puzzled frown on her face. “I wonder what *her* problem is?”
Kristen shrugged and sipped at her drink. “You’ve got me.” An awkward silence fell as she cast about for something else to say. Time was, Billie and I could talk for hours. Why is it so difficult now? She studied her friend’s smiling face for a few long moments. I don’t feel like I know her anymore. Or maybe…maybe it’s myself I no longer

recognize. She hadn’t spoken to Billie at all since the other woman had returned from Rome with Bo – she only knew of her pregnancy from a message on her answering machine. There had been no way Kristen could handle speaking to her after finding out about *that*. If only I’d seen her coming – but it’s too late now…

Kristen managed a small smile. “So where’s Bo? Shouldn’t he be helping you haul all those bags around?”
Billie’s expression soured, the corners of her mouth turning downward. “He was supposed to meet me, but he canceled.”
Aww, poor baby. Kristen shrugged again. “He’s a cop. It happens.” “Yeah.” Billie scowled down at the glass of lemonade and the boat of french fries that the waitress had just delivered. “But he didn’t cancel because of work. He canceled because he didn’t want to see me.” Kristen raised her eyebrows. “Why not?” Not that I care much…
Billie bit viciously into a fry. “Why else?” she muttered, swallowing. “Hope, of course. God, if I have to hear that woman’s name *one* more time…” She jabbed another fry into a puddle of ketchup.
“I thought he and Hope were finished,” Kristen commented diffidently. “I mean, he married you in Rome, right?”
Billie wiped her mouth with a napkin, her lower lip distending into a childish pout. “Yeah, he did. But the minute he found out Hope wasn’t with Franco, he decided he didn’t really mean it.” She rubbed a hand over her belly, her expression contemplative. “Thank God for the baby. If I hadn’t found out I was pregnant, I would have lost him to Hope for sure.” Her eyes widened as she looked up at Kristen, dismayed by her own words. “Oh, God, Kristen, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean-”
Kristen’s lips thinned into a grim line of anger, but she bit back a vicious retort. “Forget about it,” she muttered, averting her angry gaze into her cappucino.
Billie looked stricken. “No, I can’t. I’m *so* sorry, Kristen. I know that John leaving you for Marlena must have been *so* hard for you. I can’t believe he deserted you while you were pregnant with his baby…I can’t believe Marlena *wanted* him when he was having a child with someone else…” Her voice trailed off as she suddenly realized she was just making things worse. She blinked apologetically. “I’m really sorry I wasn’t there for you, but everything has just been so crazy for

me lately.”

Kristen gritted her teeth and prayed for a sudden lightning strike. “I said forget about it.”
Billie bit her lower lip uncertainly. “Well, okay…” She ate another few fries as she studied Kristen’s blank expression. “Anyway, you haven’t given up, have you? I mean, I think things are sort of looking up, right? Now that John and Marlena aren’t engaged anymore, that is.”
Kristen’s head snapped up, her gaze narrowing on Billie’s contrite face. “What did you just say?” she whispered, her throat suddenly dry. “John and Marlena aren’t engaged anymore,” Billie repeated, popping one last fry into her mouth. “You didn’t know?”
Kristen licked her lips nervously and shook her head. “What-…what happened?”
Billie shrugged. “I don’t know all the details,” she admitted. “See, that’s where Bo was tonight – with John, I mean. When he called me he said that he and John were heading to the Cheatin’ Heart, and that he couldn’t let John go alone because John was really depressed. I asked him why, and he said Marlena had given John his engagement ring back.”
A spark of hope began to burn in Kristen’s heart, but months of repeated disappointments had combined to make her wary. “It doesn’t make sense, though,” she murmured under her breath, frowning down at the table. “*Why* would she do that?”
Billie shook her head and drained her glass of lemonade. “Like I said, I don’t know the details. Maybe Marlena decided she loved Roman more after all. But does that matter? Do you really care *why* it happened?” She pulled out a few bills and tossed them onto the tabletop without waiting for Kristen’s answer. “I’m sorry to eat and run, Kristen, but I just realized I’m late meeting my mom. I’ll see you soon, okay? Let’s get together and do something.” She eased off of her stool and picked up her bags.
Kristen looked up to meet Billie’s friendly gaze, and for the first time that evening, her smile was wide, unforced, and genuine. “Definitely. It was *wonderful* to see you, Billie. Absolutely wonderful.”
Billie smiled. “I’ll call you really soon and we’ll have lunch or something, then. Bye.”
“Bye.” Kristen watched her go, her mind racing furiously. Marlena

gave John the ring back…Marlena *gave* John the ring back!…*YESSSSSS*!! She hurriedly thumbed through the bills Billie had left behind and decided they would be sufficient payment for both orders – it wasn’t like the waitress deserved a tip, anyway. She was down off of her stool and halfway across the outdoor walk before a sudden thought brought her to a halt. I can’t go to the Cheatin’ Heart, she realized. I have to play this juuuust right. A gleam of determination lit her eyes. Time to make a plan, she decided, turning back toward her table as a wicked grin appeared on her lips and words she never thought she’d utter blazed across her mind.

Thank you, Marlena!
***
Marlena was a bit disconcerted by the patient, expectant expression on Roman’s face as he gazed up at her from his position on the couch. Now that she finally had the opportunity to tell him exactly how she felt, she didn’t quite know where to begin. He patted the cushion next to him, and she automatically sat down without thinking. “I told you why I was angry with you after you ‘died’,” she began slowly. “Yes.”
Her eyes narrowed as she stared down at her hands. “I was mad at Bo, too. Or maybe I was just angry with the world. And scared…terrified, really, of what the future would hold for me, raising three children by myself.”
Roman swallowed. “I’m sorry, Marlena.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied softly. “It doesn’t matter anymore. What was, *was*…”
After a moment, he nodded. “Okay. Then tell me.”
She inhaled deeply and nodded, not meeting his eyes. “It was a few months later that Stefano took the twins. I was petrified, and alone, because he’d said that if I told anyone what had happened, I would never see them again, and he’d bugged the phone and the house to make sure I didn’t. He wanted me to come away with him, of my own free will.” Her lips twisted bitterly as she said the words. “I told him I would never go anywhere with him of my own choice, but he was so irrationally confident that I would come to want him.” She closed her eyes. “He’s never lost that confidence, it seems.” Roman nodded again, not trusting himself to speak.

“After I shot him,” she continued, “the DA’s office decided to try me for murder. They had a new ADA, a special prosecutor, and he was looking for a way to make a name for himself. He was also an alcoholic, and severely disturbed, but by that point, I really couldn’t bring myself to care. I just wanted it to be over…”

“That’s understandable,” Roman murmured, wondering why he’d never asked her about any of this before. She had clearly been through an emotional wringer in the aftermath of his disappearance. Was I afraid I’d feel guilty?
“He finally dropped the charges,” she told him, closing her eyes against the painful memories. “He wanted me to counsel him for his problems, but after everything he did to me…” She paused and swallowed. The next words were difficult. “I turned him away. I just *couldn’t* help him, not after everything that had happened. And after I rejected him, he-…he shot himself. Killed himself…in our driveway.” Roman blinked, stunned. “Oh, Doc…”
Marlena shrugged, dismissing the sympathy evident in his tone. She couldn’t afford to lean on him, not now. “That’s when I gave up my practice. I didn’t have the stamina for it anymore. Everyone tried to talk me out of it – Tom, Don, Abe, Eugene…but I knew it was something I needed to do. Not for forever, necessarily – but for a little while, at least, I needed time and space in which to heal.” She closed her eyes again, a sad, pained smile briefly lighting her face. “That’s when I met him.”
Roman sat bolt upright, his shoulders stiffening. “John,” he managed to say in a neutral tone, though his anger was bubbling anew. He took advantage of her at one of the lowest points in her life, that bastard!
But Marlena was shaking her head, her eyes still closed. “No. No, this was long before John showed up. I’m talking about Richard. Richard Cates.”
Roman sat back, stunned. “Richa-…Cates? Richard Cates? *My* Richard Cates?”
Her smile widened a bit. “I think he would have objected to you saying he was yours. But, yes, I’m talking about Richard Cates, your old special training instructor. He transferred in as the new Chief of Police, and I met him there when I was visiting Abe.” She opened her eyes and looked over at Roman. “I liked him,” she said simply.

Roman stared at her. “Liked…liked him,” he repeated. “You liked him.” A glint of humor shone from her eyes. “Yes. Is that so strange? After all, *you* liked him. He was *your* friend.” “Well, yes, but-” he sputtered. “That’s different!”

“I should hope so,” she replied, smiling. She watched as Roman opened his mouth, then closed it again, several times. “You want to know if I slept with him,” she ventured finally. Stop enjoying this! she ordered herself, but the expression on his face was utterly priceless.
His cheeks burned bright red. “No, I-…*YES*, I want to know if you
slept with him!”
“I did.”
Her quiet statement, unashamed and free of guilt, stoked the bitter fires of the long-burning anger that inflamed whenever he remembered all the years he had lost. “How *could* you?” he hissed irately. How could you sleep with him while I sat rotting in a jail cell, dreaming of you?
Amusement fled from her features, replaced by a fury that matched his own. “Because I wanted to!” she snapped back. “Because I wanted *him*! Or was I supposed to take a vow of celibacy for the *rest* of my *life*? Is that it, Roman? Was I supposed to decide that after having had you, I could never be with anyone else, because no one else could ever measure up to you? Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I *did* sleep with him – more than once! And I *enjoyed* it!”
Her taunts did nothing to alleviate his fury. “So what happened, then?” he jeered. “Why isn’t Richard here taking part in the Great 1998 Battle for Marlena Evans? Did you dump him on his ass? Or did he somehow figure out that you were just using him as a poor substitute for me?”
Her lip curled into a sneer. “Don’t flatter yourself, Roman. There were only two people in that bed, and *you* weren’t one of them.” Her anger made her drop the next bombshell without regard for Roman’s longstanding friendship with the man. “Richard’s *dead*!” His mouth fell open, his breath exhaling in a rush. “What?”
She repeated her words in a less furious tone, feeling slightly
chagrined at the shock evident in his eyes. “Richard’s dead, Roman.
He died in 1985. Abe shot him.”
“Abe sho-? But why?”

She averted her gaze, a bit shamefaced. “Because Richard was a dirty cop, Roman. A *really* dirty cop. He’s the one who had Theo killed.” Her gaze swung back toward him and narrowed pointedly. “You *did* know that Theo was dead, didn’t you? Or did you care so little about what happened during the years you missed that you never bothered to ask Abe why he now has only one brother instead of two?”

His cheeks flushed red again at her baiting tone. “I asked him. He said Theo was shot in the line of duty.”
She nodded. “He was. I suppose Abe didn’t want to burden you with what had become of your old friend. But Richard killed Theo, and Abe killed him. He died in my arms.” She closed her eyes. “I know what he was, and what he did, and I could never excuse him for any of it. But…he helped me. He made me feel alive again, and a part of me will always be grateful for that.” A rueful expression crossed her face. “Though he did make me doubt my own judgment for awhile. I don’t think I’ve ever been so wrong about anyone in my entire life.”
“Me, either,” Roman muttered, barely able to wrap his mind around the idea that not only had Marlena slept with Richard, but that Richard hadn’t been the man he’d believed him to be at all. He wondered what else she’d neglected to tell him. “Then what happened?”
Marlena shrugged and stood up from the couch. “Life went on,” she murmured, pacing toward the french doors. “I went on with my work, took care of the twins and Carrie, tried to be there for Abe…I even went out on a couple of dates. With Chris Kositchek, if you can imagine.”
“*Chris*?” Roman replied scornfully. Damn! He was a groomsman at my wedding! Doesn’t *anyone* have any respect for the dead anymore?
She glanced back over her shoulder and nodded. “Yes. It didn’t go anywhere, because there wasn’t any, um, chemistry between us at all, if you know what I mean. But he was nice, and he treated me well.” She smiled slightly. “And I got a lot of free cups of coffee at Shenanigans.” She turned back toward the window and stared out into the starry evening. “In fact…that’s where I met John.”
And now we’ve reached the heart of the matter, Roman inferred. He wasn’t sure how many more surprises he could take, but he knew that

ending the conversation now would be the surest way to lose any chance he might have for a future with her. “Really,” he said flatly. She smiled slightly at his dry tone, but didn’t turn around. “Yes. Well, no, not really…I’d actually met him before in the hospital, when he’d been covered with bandages from Stefano’s supposed plastic surgery. But I didn’t know it was him, then. He introduced himself at Shenanigans, after he’d risked his life to stop a robbery.”

Since she couldn’t see him, Roman rolled his eyes. “Of course,” he muttered under his breath. She stiffened slightly, and he knew she’d heard his comment. “Sorry, Doc.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulder, her back still facing him. “Don’t apologize to me. You’re perfectly right – he does make a habit of heroics. Forgive me for being impressed, all right? I told him that University Hospital could use a few men like him in security, as we’d been having problems with a man stalking the women on staff. He decided to apply for the job, and we wound up working together.”
“And he moved right in on your life,” Roman finished, disgust evident in his tone.”
She rounded on him. “Stop it. You don’t know anything about the man he was, Roman. He was just desperate to make some kind of sense of the few memories he possessed. He was *not* there on Stefano’s orders, not directly.”
“That’s what *he* says,” Roman muttered.
“That’s what is *true*!” she retorted. “You weren’t there, Roman. You don’t know. Now, do you want to hear this, or not?” After a moment, he nodded shortly.
“We became…friends, I suppose, though we tended to butt heads more often than not. I found some of his methods for catching the rapist a bit intrusive, and I let him know it. He took it pretty well, but he wasn’t willing to compromise when he believed he was right.” She smiled nostalgically. “We had some very *loud* discussions about it, but I knew his heart was in the right place.” Her gaze became unfocused. “But it was a little strange, too – it seemed like he was everywhere in my life all at once. And I didn’t know *anything* about him at all. He was *so* good at avoiding my questions, and every time I asked him anything personal he seemed to vanish.” Her voice lowered almost to a whisper. “And I eventually found that that was the

last thing I wanted.”

The emotion in her tone made Roman’s skin crawl. She was describing an infiltration technique enacted to perfection. Though he’d come to accept years ago that John’s position as the Pawn had been more unwilling than not, he still found the man’s assumption of his identity more than a little suspect. “What happened next?” he asked, trying to keep the suspicion from his tone.
“We went out to dinner a few times, attended a concert, ate roasted chestnuts on the pier…” Marlena replied, seemingly oblivious to his inner tension. “Something was bothering him, I could tell, but he wouldn’t confide in me. He kept saying he was fine, and I kept trying to believe him, until one day…” She paused, inhaled deeply, and closed her eyes. “One day I found out that someone had used my computer to hack into government systems to create a new identity. It was a very sophisticated operation, but I found out that the name of the newly created person was…John Black.”
“What did he say when you confronted him?” Which she must have done, he knew, without any regard at all for her own safety. Damn. She pressed her lips together, and it seemed to Roman that she was fighting back tears. “I went to his apartment – *your* old apartment, incidentally – and I told him I didn’t appreciate being used or lied to. I demanded that he tell me who he was and why he’d been lying to everyone. I told him that I knew he wasn’t John Black.” She brought her arms up to hug herself, as if for comfort. “And he just exploded. He said of *course* he was John Black, that he had the proof in his wallet, that it was right there on the driver’s license. That he *had* to be John Black, there was no other option. He just had to be!” Her voice broke. “Oh, Roman, the anguish in his eyes…it was so unbearably awful. He looked as though someone had reached down his throat and pulled his heart right out.” She swiped at a few wayward tears. “And suddenly I realized what had been staring me in the face all along. I realized that he had no idea who he was. I said, ‘You don’t know, do you?’ And he looked at me…oh, he just looked at me and didn’t say anything, but his expression spoke volumes, Roman. I’ve never seen that kind of pain before.” She turned back toward the window. “So I asked him if he would let me help him find out.”

“Just like that,” Roman responded, more affected than he wanted to

be by the obvious emotion in her voice. “He could have been *anyone*, Marlena.”

“I didn’t care,” she retorted fiercely. “Nothing mattered, except helping him. *Nothing*!”
The ferocious protectiveness in her tone raised his hackles, but he was too involved in the narrative to make an issue of it just then. “What did you do?”
“I hypnotized him,” she replied softly. “Tried to bring the few images he could recall into clearer focus. He remembered being at Victor’s, and a few moments in Miami before the ‘surgery’…I tried to help him figure out what it all meant. He wouldn’t tell me what he remembered during our sessions for the most part. I thought it was too personal, or too upsetting. I didn’t know at the time that what he was recalling were images of me…of Anna…and the concert hall.” Roman frowned. “Why didn’t he tell you?”
She sighed, shrugging. “Because he was afraid, Roman. Afraid of the kind of person he might have been for all those years. He asked me several times whether or not it wouldn’t be better just to let go of the past, in case he didn’t turn out to be the man I believed he was. I told him I didn’t think he could just let it go anymore, and he finally agreed I was right.” Her tone was thoughtful. “And then one day we had a session, and he remembered being at the Lafferty farmhouse.”
Roman sucked in a sharp breath. “The Lafferty farmhouse?” Stefano’s hideout…
Marlena nodded. “Yes. He didn’t tell me, then, of course – he just raced out of the house to follow up on what he’d remembered. I was so worried because I didn’t hear from him for *days* after that. When he finally called me at the hospital, I was so relieved to hear his voice that I would have done anything he asked.”
Obviously… Roman thought sourly. “So what did he want?”
“Money. Clothes. My silence. He said Victor was after him, and he needed my help to get out of town. So I told him I’d get him some money from the bank, pick up his clothes from his apartment, and meet him at the pay phone he was calling from.” A rueful expression crossed her face. “He told me later that he’d tried to warn me not to go to the apartment, but I hung up before he could do so. He knew Victor’s goons would find me there…and that’s exactly what

happened.”

Roman’s breath caught in his throat, and he had to remind himself that the events they were discussing had taken place years ago. “What happened?”
She turned to look at him, her lip curling wryly. “What else? He rescued me. Then he told me it wasn’t safe for me to stay there, because Victor would know I was helping him. He said I’d have to come with him.” Their gazes met and locked. “So I agreed, and we left.”
He tried to keep his tone reasonable, but was not entirely successful. “Let me get this straight – you took off for God knows where with a man you barely knew searching for a past you knew nothing about with a pack of Victor’s goons on your tail? Are you *crazy*, Doc?”
She retained a calm expression in the face of his tirade. “I trusted him,” she said simply. “I’ve always trusted him.”
He didn’t know what to say to that. “Where did you go?” he managed to ask after a moment.
She turned to look back out into the night. “The mountains…West Virginia, a rental place called Bluebird Bungalows. We were supposed to meet the doctor who had performed his plastic surgery – he was vacationing up there, or so he said. We got there first, rented a cabin, and settled in to wait for him to make an appearance.” Her voice was low. “John was so nervous…I mean, I understood why, of course – he was about to find out who he was, but it was more than that, I could tell. I didn’t want to push him, though. So I told him to take a shower to get rid of some of the tension.” A small smile appeared on her lips as she glanced over her shoulder at Roman. “He asked me if I wanted to join him, but I laughed and told him maybe next time.”
“Did you want to?” Roman found himself asking before he could stop himself.
Marlena merely stared at him silently, but he could see the answer in her eyes. “He went into the bathroom,” she continued after a moment. “And then the phone rang. I asked him if he wanted me to answer it, but he said no, he would get it. When he came out of the bathroom, he had his shirt hanging over his shoulder. It…it slipped down while he was talking on the phone.” She said the words with a gravity that indicated they were important, but Roman frowned, confused.

“So what?”

“I saw the tattoo,” she explained in a whisper, her eyes faraway. “I saw the phoenix.”
Understanding dawned. “And you thought he worked for Stefano.” “No…” She shook her head. “You don’t understand, Roman. I thought he *was* Stefano.”
His mouth fell open. “Wha-…what?”
She nodded. “I thought he was Stefano. You see, after I shot Stefano all those years ago, and he fell from the catwalk into the fire – well, the body they found had been burned beyond recognition. We *hoped* it was him, but it’s not like he hadn’t come back from the dead before. John had memories, he had the tattoo…and he believed it. That’s why he’d been so tormented for months, because he was afraid that he would find out he was Stefano…and he was terrified of it.”
Roman was thunderstruck by her unexpected bombshell. Why didn’t someone tell me about this? My *God*… “What did you do?” he asked.
“I tried to cover,” Marlena admitted ruefully, “but I was so nervous I did a very poor job of it. He figured out what I had seen and the conclusion I had reached almost immediately. And once I realized that he knew, I was so afraid that I-…I attacked him with a knife.” Roman nearly held his breath. “And?”
Marlena closed her eyes and turned away. “He just went crazy. He really believed it, then, you see, maybe for the very first time, and it caused him such torment…” She swallowed. “I tried to take the car and run away, but he managed to stop me. We had a wreck.” She shook her head. “He wasn’t hurt, but I had a bad cut on my head. When I woke up, I forgot for a moment what I had seen, and I was so glad to see him and know that he was all right…but reality came back soon enough, and I pushed him away. But by that point, he had decided to keep me with him. He wanted me along while he went in search of someplace he vaguely recalled in the mountains, so that I could help him remember why it was so important to his past.”
“He believed he was Stefano and he decided to hold you hostage?”
Roman snapped angrily. “What a guy!”
“He needed me,” she protested. “He needed my help. And he needed me to protect him from Bo, since I’d managed to tell Bo over the

phone about the tattoo, and John knew he’d be coming after us, along with Victor, the KGB, and God knows who else. I was the insurance he needed to stay alive long enough to figure everything out.” “How noble,” Roman muttered sarcastically under his breath.

Marlena turned around and pinned him with a glare. “And how would you have reacted to finding out something so horrible?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, Doc. But I’d like to think I wouldn’t have used you as a human shield.”
She tilted her head to the side, considering. “It didn’t stay that way for long,” she admitted after a moment. “Oh, I tried to run away a couple of times, almost bashed him over the head with a rock… but in the end, I could never quite manage to really hurt him. He was so caring with me, so concerned about my health and well-being.” She shook her head. “I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. And when I finally had an opportunity to betray him to Bo, Shane and Hope – when I finally had a chance to call out to them and be rescued – I couldn’t do it. Because when I looked at him, I didn’t *see* Stefano. I saw the man I’d come to care about over all those weeks…” She paused and took a deep breath, bracing herself for the reaction she knew would come in response to her next words. “I saw the man I’d come to love.”
Bitter bile rose up in Roman’s throat at her impassioned declaration. “You thought he was Stefano – the man you believed had *killed* me – and you *loved* him?” Utter disdain dripped from his every word.
She met his angry gaze unflinchingly. “Yes. And I hated the way I felt. I wanted more than anything to be able to hate *him*, you see, but I just couldn’t manage to do so. He was so hurt, so vulnerable…and I convinced myself that whatever his blood, whatever his past – it didn’t have anything to do with the man he had become. I convinced myself that he had changed.”
“And what?” Roman retorted scornfully. “You’d bring him back to Salem, tell everyone how different he was, and live happily ever after? Come *on*, Doc.”
She flushed slightly. “I know. It was an impossible dream, but you don’t stop having dreams just because they’re impossible. And maybe a part of me was hoping it was some kind of mistake. Maybe a part of me couldn’t believe that Stefano could ever make me feel the way I felt when John kissed me.”

A deafening silence fell. Marlena could see the muscles in Roman’s jaw working furiously as he fought to assimilate her latest revelation. She could see the questions burning in his eyes – How could you kiss a man you believed had killed me? How could you love a man whom you thought had murdered your children’s father? She closed her eyes and turned away, the guilt she’d experienced during those few hours still a powerful force, even with all she’d come to know. It had been a betrayal of sorts, though their assumptions about John’s identity had been false ones, and she wasn’t necessarily proud to reveal it…but she’d sworn to herself that she would tell Roman the whole, unvarnished truth.

Finally Roman could remain still no longer. He shot up from the couch and stalked furiously toward the fireplace. “I don’t believe this,” he muttered over and over under his breath, spinning on his heel with unconscious martial precision. “I do *not* believe this.” His head snapped around and he glared at her with fire in his eyes. “How *could* you?”
She shook her head, not quite apologetically, but close. “I don’t know, Roman. I asked myself that same question repeatedly even while it was going on, but I never came up with an answer. I just know…it happened.”
He glared at her silently for a few more moments. “Tell me!” he ordered finally.
“He tried to ditch me,” she replied promptly, tiredly, eager to finish the whole business. “He told me he didn’t want to hurt me anymore, and sent me back to Bo and Hope. But it didn’t quite work out, and when I met up with him again, I decided I didn’t want to leave him, and I told him he was stuck with me.”
“He must have been thrilled,” Roman put in sarcastically. “He-…he cared about me, I knew that,” she responded. “And I know now that he loved me, just as much as I loved him, though we hadn’t said it yet. He didn’t want to put me in any more danger. But he needed me…in a way that I don’t believe anyone else ever has.” Roman flinched at the implied criticism. “Wait a min-”
Marlena held up a hand to cut him off. “If you want me to do this, you’re going to have to listen without interrupting.” He bowed mockingly. “Oh, of course. ExCUSE me.”

She offered him a sour frown, then went on with her narrative. “I thought I had convinced him to let me help, but when I woke up the next morning, he was gone. I was desperate to find him.” She paused for a moment, collecting herself. The power of her next few memories still took her breath away, even knowing how wrong they’d come to be. “I stumbled upon the records during my search – the records from the plastic surgeon’s office.” Her eyes met his, compelling his attention. “And I found an envelope – with PATIENT BEFORE SURGERY written on it.” Roman froze. “You have to understand something, Roman,” she implored him. “When I found that envelope, I wasn’t hoping to find *your* picture inside. It never even occurred to me as a possibility! All I wanted was for it to be a picture of *anyone* other than Stefano. *Anyone*! If it had been a picture of a man who’d left behind a wife and six children, I’d have fought them for him! If it had been a picture of John in his priest’s collar I’d have fought *God* for him! And even if it had been a picture of Stefano, I can’t say that I wouldn’t have tried to make it work, but I was so hoping…” She paused and swallowed. “And when I saw that it was you…” Roman closed his eyes and turned away, his shoulders slumping.

“I thought it explained so much,” she continued in a raw, aching voice. “How connected we’d been from the very beginning, how drawn I had always been to him…how I could have loved him even believing he was Stefano DiMera.”
“Stop,” he whispered pleadingly.
“I can’t,” she replied, anguished. “Oh, Roman, I don’t want to hurt you. But you have to know, you have to understand…I didn’t love him because I thought he was you. And I didn’t *stop* loving him when I found out that he wasn’t.”
“Is that what you tell yourself?” he returned desperately. “When you wake up in the middle of the night and remember what a mess your life has become…Is that how you make yourself feel better?” “It’s the truth.”
“No, I can’t believe that. I won’t!”
She studied his obstinate expression for a few moments, then sighed tiredly. “I can’t help what you believe, and I won’t take responsibility for it. I’ve told you the truth – whether or not you accept it is up to you.” She turned to walk toward the stairs, then paused mid-step, looking

back at him thoughtfully. “You know, I’ve sometimes wondered what would have happened if another picture had been in that envelope. How things would have turned out…” He regarded her almost hopefully, and she shook her head. “I still would have married him, Roman. I know that as surely as I know the sun rises in the east. And a part of me can’t help wishing that it had turned out that way, so that he wouldn’t have experienced such a wrenching loss when you came back to Salem. And, frankly, maybe then people wouldn’t be so quick to dismiss everything we created together as some sort of forgettable aberration.” Her tone was slightly angry. “But if Stefano *had* still decided to take me away, our children would have been orphans. I know the family would have done their best for them, but it wouldn’t have been what they had with John. The next time you get angry with him for ‘stealing’ your identity, you might want to think about that one.” She turned to go again, and was halfway up the stairs when his voice stopped her.

“Why?” The question was barely audible.
Marlena took two steps downward and regarded him expectantly. “Why, what?”
Roman’s tone was raw and pained. “Why did you tell me all of this?” Did you do it just to prove a point to me? Did I hurt you that much? She considered her answer for a moment. “Because you have a right to know,” she replied finally. “Because you have an *obligation* to know, really…and because until you get over this idea of yours that you and John are somehow interchangeable to me, you’ll never be able to understand why I do what I do and feel what I feel.” She glanced down at her ringfinger sorrowfully. “Yes, I did give John my ring back, and, no, we are not getting married.” She looked up and met Roman’s gaze implacably. “And it has nothing to do with you. Do you understand now?” She didn’t wait for a reply, but turned and vanished up the stairs.
Alone – in the living room of the house he had once shared with his
wife – Roman Brady nodded.
Chapter 76
John woke up with a pounding headache, a mouth that tasted like the aftermath of a chili cookoff, and a bout of nausea that indicated he must have been chief judge. A shaft of sunlight streamed through the

office window to hit him directly in the face, and he winced at the painful brightness. It took him several moments to remember why he felt so badly. Oh, yeah…Marlena broke up with me…and Bo and I tried to drown our sorrows… They’d made quite a valiant attempt at it, really

– he hadn’t swilled so much beer since…well, *ever*, that he could recall, though he imagined frat parties involved something similar. His last semi-coherent memory was a of drunken duet to a truly horrible country and western song, to the considerable amusement of the few patrons left at the Cheatin’ Heart. He supposed that Bo, more sober by an infinitely minute margin, had called a cab for the both of them. He’d clearly passed out on the couch in his office without further preparations for bed, as he still wore yesterday’s clothes, which were considerably the worse for wear.
Groaning, John allowed his head to fall back against the arm of the couch, then instantly regretted his rash action as a throbbing pain lanced through his skull, reminding him of the abuse to which he’d subjected his body the previous evening. I want to die… he thought, and was surprised and somewhat frightened to find that he meant the sentiment more than a little bit. I’ll just lie here until my brain oozes out of my ears…
Slowly he became aware that the pounding noise that had awakened him wasn’t coming from inside his head – someone was banging on the front door. Were the workers scheduled to come in today? he wondered fuzzily. He knew there was still painting yet to be done, but the contractor had his own set of keys. Maybe if I wait, they’ll go away…
But the pounding continued, and he finally gave up his attempt to fall back to sleep. “Coming,” he rasped, his voice hoarse from too much alcohol combined with spontaneous inebriated caroling. He swung his legs over the side of his couch and managed to make slow, unsteady progress out the door of the office and down the hallway. “Coming…”
The noise was much louder in the foyer, and he held his head, groaning. “All right, all right, I’m *coming*,” he managed in a slightly louder tone, wincing as his own voice echoed inside of his skull. He reached for the doorknob and pulled the door open, blinking back sudden tears as the harsh sunlight assaulted his eyes. “What?” he snapped, shading his brow in an attempt to identify the unwelcome

early-morning visitor.

“Hello, John,” said Kristen.
***
Roman walked along the edge of the pier in the early morning fog, his boots scuffing the dilapidated boards in concert with the lapping of the water against the docks. Lost in thought, he failed to notice his father’s presence until he was nearly upon him. “Pop,” he greeted shortly, stepping around the older man’s tackle box and spare fishing reel.
“Roman!” Shawn replied, giving his son a hearty greeting and a smile. “How are you, son? We haven’t been seein’ you around the Pub much, lately…” He winked. “Findin’ the home fires much more interestin’, are you?”
Roman paused on the edge of the pier, staring out across the water. His lips twisted painfully. “Not exactly, Pop.”
Shawn frowned. “Aye?” He held up the spare reel. “Why don’t you join your old man for a spot of fishin’ and tell him all about it?”
Roman took the reel and studied it for a moment. He sighed. “I don’t think so, Pop. I don’t think I’d be very good company this morning.” Shawn regarded his son silently for a few long seconds, then nodded. “Trouble with Marlena,” he stated quietly. It was not a question. ***

Carrie let out a muffled curse as two oranges slipped from her fingers and landed on the kitchen floor with a squashy thump. Juggling the remaining fruit in her hands, she darted a quick glance over toward the couch where Sami had slept the night, hoping that her inadvertent slip of the tongue hadn’t awakened her sister. But, sure enough, a pale, slim arm arose over the back cushions, and a sleepy voice muttered, “Will?”
“He’s still asleep – they all are. You go back to sleep, too. I’m sorry I woke you.”
“S’okay,” Sami replied, sitting up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “Will usually has me up before the sun rises, anyway. I’m used to it.” “Wow,” Carrie commented, grinning. “That sounds nothing like the definitely-not-a-morning-person little sister I remember.”
Sami’s lip quirked. “Motherhood,” she stated, deadpan, “God’s way of ensuring you never get more than six hours of sleep for the rest of your life…”

They laughed. Carrie picked up one of the oranges and lobbed it at her sister. “Catch! You might as well help with breakfast, then, since you’re up. I was thinking of fruit pancakes.”

Sami nodded and ran a hand through her tousled hair. “They’ll like that, especially with lots of syrup and powdered sugar.” She paused and bit her lip. “Is…um, so, will we be making breakfast for five – or six?”
Carrie raised her eyebrows. “What? Oh…you mean, is Austin coming?”
Sami nodded hesitantly. “You never did mention what he said to you after he and Lucas dragged you out into the hallway last night. I know they weren’t happy to see me here.”
Carrie shrugged and turned back toward the stove, reaching for a bowl to hold the pancake batter. “They were a little the worse for a couple of gallons of beer, Sami. I told them to go home and sleep it off. I’m sure they won’t be so…*testy* after a good night’s sleep.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Sami muttered. She tossed the orange from hand to hand, clearly uncomfortable with the subject. “Well, maybe *some* good came out of Will and I staying over, anyway – maybe Mom had a chance to think about things.”
Carrie cracked an egg into the batter and turned to regard her sister, her expression serious. “What do you think is going to happen? I mean, I was so sure that she and John would be together, but now…”
“Now it looks like Dad has screwed everything up,” Sami finished, her tone tinged with bitterness. “I don’t know what’s going to happen, Carrie. To tell you the truth, I don’t even have a clue.”
A knock on the door interrupted their discussion. Sami flinched, automatically assuming the caller to be Austin. “You want me to get that?” she asked, clearly hoping the answer would be no.
Carrie held up the bowl of batter and raised an eyebrow at Sami, a hint of a challenge in her eyes. “Could you? My hands are kinda full here.”
Sami sighed, nodded, and trudged toward the door. She took a deep breath before turning the knob, then let it out in a gust of surprise when she beheld the identity of their visitor. “Mom!”

***

Shawn chewed his lip thoughtfully as he cast his line back into the water. “So John and Marlena aren’t engaged anymore…” he murmured, reeling it in a bit.

Roman shot him an exasperated look as he baited his own hook. “Didn’t you hear anything else I said? It doesn’t *matter*, Pop. She doesn’t love me anymore.”
Shawn frowned at his son. “And I raised a quitter, did I? Let me see if I have this right – she’s beautiful, available, intelligent…and you love her more than life itself. You’re…reasonably handsome, got all your teeth, have a good job and everythin’, fathered a couple of kids on her…what’s not to like? Hell, boy, ask her out on a date, buy her a few flowers…remind her of why she went and fell in love with you in the first place! She’s *free*, Roman, and she’s not a woman to be shuttin’ herself away from love forever. What’s to say she can’t fall in love with you all over again? And you not even willin’ to give it a *try*!” He made a noise of disgust deep in his throat. “What *happened* to you while you were gone, Roman? And where the hell is my son?”
The rhetorical question hit Roman a little too close to home. “Which one, Pop?” he asked sourly. “You know, Marlena may have convinced me that she didn’t fall in love with John because she believed him to be me, but that’s got nothing to do with you and Ma. You barely knew the man when they came back from West Virginia – you only accepted him as your son on her say so. Yet you both are still just as attached to him as *she* is.”
“Your mother has a soft heart,” Shawn replied. “Once someone earns
a place in it, there’s nothin’ that c’n be removin’ him. You’d best accept
that, son.”
“And you?”
Shawn contemplated the water silently for a moment. “John’s been a good son to us, Roman,” he admitted finally. “He took care of our family as if it were his very own – and he’s never stopped doin’ that, no matter how we’ve treated him.” He turned to regard Roman seriously. “But you’re the son of my heart, my oldest, my *firstborn*. No one can take your place with me.” Roman blinked back tears of gratitude as he stared back at Shawn. “I’m not sayin’ that the man hasn’t been through ten kinds of hell in his life, but that doesn’t make it right to be takin’ another man’s wife.” He reached over and patted Roman’s hand. “You

love her, son. You do what you have to do to win her. I saw you do it before, in spite of Don Craig, and I believe you c’n do it again. But what I think ain’t important in this situation. What matters is…do you believe it?”

Roman turned to gaze out across the water, his expression faraway. “I don’t know, Pop,” he finally admitted softly. “But I do know that I could never live with myself…if I didn’t at least try.”
Shawn nodded, satisfied, and turned back to his fishing.
***
Sami unstrapped Will from his high chair and set him down on the floor, pausing to give his fingers one last swipe with a damp rag. Even with the presence of three vigilant adults at the kitchen table, it had not been possible to keep breakfast from turning into a sweet, sticky, syrupy mess – but Sami found that she didn’t truly mind. The smiles on Belle, Brady, and Will’s faces made all the trouble worth it. She grinned at them as they turned to disappear back into the spare bedroom, where an incomprehensible game involving Barbie, large plastic dinosaurs, and a bucket of Legos had been interrupted by the call of pancakes.
Marlena sat back in her chair with a satisfied sigh, replete. “That was wonderful, you two. I am constantly amazed by my children’s culinary talents.”
“Pancakes are my one skill,” Carrie replied as she returned the syrup and the flour to the cabinets. “Sami’s the gourmet, and Eric’s her willing assistant. They used to cook dinner for us all the time.”
Sami shrugged, embarrassed by her sister’s unconscious generosity. You’d think her first instinct would be to put me down… “We only did it so you’d have to do the dishes,” she muttered under her breath.
Marlena and Carrie chuckled, but once their laughter had subsided, an awkward silence fell. Finally, Carrie took the bull by the horns. “Not that we aren’t glad you came by to join us for breakfast, Marlena,” she began. “But I can’t help getting the feeling that there’s more to it than a friendly visit. You have something to tell us, don’t you?”
Marlena nodded, sighing. “Yes, I do. I didn’t want to get into it in front of the children, however.” She steepled her hands in front of her face and eyed each of them seriously in turn. “I have some news.”
Sami inhaled sharply as her mother’s bare finger caught her eye. “You

broke up with John,” she breathed in a strangled voice.

Marlena’s eyebrows flew up in surprise. “What?” She noticed the direction of Sami’s gaze, and her expression darkened. “Yes,” she admitted. “I gave John his ring back.”
Sami pushed back from the table, red flags of fury burning in her cheeks. “You dumped him for Dad,” she accused, spitting the words as though they were weapons. “How *could* you?”
“I didn’t,” Marlena retorted, wounded by her accusation. “This has nothing to do with your father, Sami.”
“Doesn’t it?” Sami snapped. “*Carrie* told me about what Brady saw! How could you kiss Dad in front of him? Didn’t you learn *anything* from what happened last time? God, you just can’t keep from traumatizing each of your children for life, can you? I shudder to think what you have in mind for Belle!”
“Sami, stop it!” Carrie commanded, her own anger at the news of the breakup fading under her sister’s assault. “You don’t know what’s going on.”
“Oh, and *you* do?”
“No,” Carrie shot back. “But *Marlena* does! And if you’d just shut up for a minute, I’d guess that’s what she came here to tell us!”
“Are the two of you finished?” Marlena cut in, her tone deceptively mild. They subsided immediately, though Sami still wore a mutinous glare. “I did not choose your father over John,” she told them, enunciating each word clearly. “I do not want to get back together with Roman. *I* know it, *Roman* knows it, *Brady* knows it, and now you know it as well.”
“Does *John*?” Sami asked pointedly, unwilling to concede.
“I’ve told him,” she replied. “Repeatedly. I cannot, however, force him to believe it. *Yes*, Roman kissed me. Once. It didn’t mean anything, and it will not happen again.” Silence fell again in response to her emphatic statement.
“But you gave John the ring back,” Carrie eventually prompted, her voice soft.
Marlena winced slightly, closing her eyes, and slowly nodded. “I did. I can only say that it seemed like the right thing to do at the time.”
Sami unbent long enough to ask the next question. “But *why*?” Marlena opened her eyes and stared down at her bare hands for a

few moments. “Because it takes two people to make a success of a relationship,” she murmured finally. “It requires two people willing to believe in each other, willing to invest in a future together…and right now, John can’t do that.”

Sami hunched her shoulders defensively, bristling at Marlena’s implied criticism of John. “How do *you* know that?” she muttered darkly.
A rueful, pained smile curled the corner of Marlena’s lip. “Because he said so. He told me that he couldn’t marry me. And *I* said, if that were the case, then there was no point in my wearing his ring.”
Carrie studied her stepmother’s face silently for a moment. “You wanted him to stop you,” she concluded, her tone laced with sympathy.
Marlena lowered her lashes, a flush staining her cheeks. “I was not *consciously* attempting to manipulate him,” she returned. “But perhaps…perhaps there is an element of truth in that. I hope not, but… It doesn’t matter now, in any case.”
“Yes, it *does*!” Sami burst out. “Don’t you *want* to marry him?”
“I do,” Marlena replied promptly. “He knows that, and should he ever change his mind, or come to feel any differently…well, he knows where he can find me-” her tone sharpened “-assuming *my* feelings haven’t changed by that point. But I can’t afford to wait any longer, and I refuse to live with this ridiculous charade anymore.” She turned to Carrie. “I wanted to ask you if you would look after the children for one more night. I have a full schedule at the hospital today, so there won’t be time to move their belongings until tomorrow.”
“Of course,” Carrie responded automatically, her brow furrowing in confusion. “Move their belongings *where*?”
“The children and I are returning to the Penthouse,” Marlena informed them. “I won’t have them any more confused than they already are, and I won’t have Brady continually in fear that Roman will try and take his father’s place. It’s just better for them…and for me.” She glanced over at Sami. “But I can’t make that decision for you. You and Will are welcome to come with us, of course.”
Her mind reeling, Sami stared back at her mother. “Wha-? Oh, no, there’s really not enough room for all of us there.” She smiled grimly. “Will and I will be all right.”
Marlena frowned. “Are you sure? I know you and your Daddy haven’t

been getting along so well of late.”

Sami stood up and eyed her mother. “Oh, I won’t be staying with Daddy.” She picked up her breakfast plate and carried it over to the sink. “He and I aren’t doing much better than he and Brady, frankly. But don’t worry, I have the perfect place in mind for us.” She started down the hallway.
“Where?” Carrie wondered aloud, her curiosity getting the better of her. She wouldn’t move in with Lucas and Kate, would she? Though I bet they’d let her, just to get close to Will…
Sami turned back to look at them, a gleam of satisfaction lighting her eyes. “With John,” she informed them loftily. “*You*-” she added, glancing pointedly at her mother, “-may be crazy enough to pass on Xanadu, but *I* know a good thing when I see it. John told me that Will and I will always have a home with him, and I intend to take him up on it!” With a final triumphant smirk, she disappeared into the back bedroom.
Carrie glanced at Marlena, who was staring after her daughter, a bemused expression on her face. “Marlena?”
Marlena turned to her. “You know, every time I think I’ve come to understand Sami, she offers up another surprise.”
Carrie nodded. I hear you on that one! “Are you okay with her moving in with John?”
Marlena looked back down the hallway. “I don’t know,” she replied meditatively. “Do you think it matters?” ***

John paused in the doorway to the living room and ran a hand through his still-damp hair. He felt marginally better for the shower, change of clothes, and two cups of bitterly strong coffee, but the pounding in his head had yet to subside. And he had a feeling that further conversation with his strangely insistent ex-fiancee would not improve matters appreciably. She had politely ignored his not-so-subtle hints that it was not a good time for them to talk. She’d just stared at him silently, a faint smile on her lips, then made her way into the living room, seating herself on the new couch. It still wore its protective dust-cover, and the plastic material had crinkled as she sat. “I’ll wait,” she’d said. “You go take your shower.”
Sighing, he braced himself for any and all unpleasant prospects, then

entered the room. Kristen was lying back on the couch staring up at the ceiling, her fingers interlaced over the bulge of her belly. Her expression was both expectant and serene. “Feeling better?” she asked softly.

Not really… “Yes, thanks.”
She sat up and regarded him silently for a moment. “If you don’t mind my saying…you really don’t look so good, John. Is something wrong?” The concern in her tone, perversely, raised his hackles.
Just life, the universe, and everything… “It’s nothing for you to be concerned about.”
She got up from the couch, her movements awkward. “Oh, but it *is*,” she assured him, reaching for his arm. “I’m *worried* about you, John. Please, tell me what’s wrong!”
He pulled away, and the suddenness of the movement sent his stomach roiling once again. Maybe the coffee wasn’t such a good idea, he thought, swallowing convulsively. “I said it’s none of your concern!” he snapped, his tone a little harsher than he’d intended, but he couldn’t help it – she was getting on his nerves.
Which was nothing new – though he was usually too ashamed to admit it to himself. Her continued attempts to reforge their personal relationship had initially engendered guilt within him, but lately his most immediate response consisted chiefly of disgust. *Why* did she insist on chasing after a man who had made it clear he no longer wanted her? Did she think it was attractive, or endearing? Try *frustrating*…
“Of course, it’s my concern,” Kristen replied, her eyes filling with tears. She rubbed her belly protectively. “You’re the father of my child, John. What affects you, affects *her*.”
“This has nothing to do with the baby,” he returned through gritted teeth.
“Is it Brady, then?” she asked. “Or Belle?”
“No. The kids are fine.”
“Then it must be Marlena,” Kristen concluded, biting back a satisfied smile at his muted flinch. Got you! she thought exultantly, though she was finding the whole process much harder than she’d anticipated. She had decided the previous evening not to come right out and tell him she knew of his broken engagement – the better to offer

spontaneous heartfelt sympathy when he broke down and told her the news. She would look so noble, so selfless! – but he wasn’t cooperating. No matter. “It *must* be Marlena,” she added, twisting the knife still further. “No one else can upset you like this.” Take *that*, bitch!

The pounding in his head increased in both severity and frequency. “I don’t want to talk about Marlena with you!”
“Then *who*?” she pointed out. “They’re all on *her* side, John. They’re her family, her friends…and *his*.” The flinch was much more obvious this time. “I don’t care about Marlena,” she said, thinking You have no idea how true that is…, “I don’t care about *Roman*, either. I’m on *your* side, John – totally and completely. Just talk to me!”
Every word from her mouth enlarged the scope of his welling anger and frustration. She had nothing on Brady and Belle when it came to *deliberately* misunderstanding a perfectly clear, declarative statement. “I don’t *WANT* to talk to you!” he spat. “What will it take to convince you of that?!?”
Kristen stepped back involuntarily, stunned by the intensity of his anger. No, this wasn’t in the script at all… “But I thought-”
“You thought you could come in here and insult Marlena, and I’d just let you say whatever you wanted!” he retorted, the alcohol, fatigue and frustration combining to loosen his tongue. Suddenly, for a few brief moments, he didn’t feel guilty about the admittedly abominable way he’d treated her since their aborted wedding. Enough is enough! “Fine! You want to know what happened? I’ll tell you! Marlena broke it off, okay? She gave the ring back to me and we won’t be getting married! Is that what you wanted to hear?”
Shocked and a little frightened, Kristen managed a slight nod. The wild-eyed man in front of her bore little resemblance to the John she knew. Maybe doing this today was a bad idea… “Look, you’re upset. Why don’t I just come back a little-”
“*NO!*” he snapped. “You started this, I’m going to finish it! Let me make everything perfectly clear to you!” He leaned forward, bracing his hands on her shoulders so she couldn’t look away. “I don’t know for sure what you think is going to happen now, but I have a pretty good idea. You think that we’re going to get back together now that Marlena and I are finished, right?” She stared at him wordlessly,

barely breathing, but the naked longing in her eyes merely strengthened his resolve. “We’re *NOT*! You and I will *never* be together, Kristen! Get that? Not *ever*. Now, *please* stop doing this. Don’t drop by, don’t call, don’t feign sympathy for me when you feel anything but…just *DON’T*!”

He could feel her flinch with every word, absorbing each one like a hammerblow. Her lower lip trembled. “But I lov-”
“*NO!*” he roared, multiplying the pain in his head tenfold. “I said *STOP*! My God, Kristen, don’t you have *any* pride anymore? I *left* you! I left you when you were pregnant with my child, practically at the altar! I left you because I loved another woman more, because I’ve *always* loved her more and I just never had the guts to tell you the truth. I push you aside, I barely talk to you, I never ask you how you feel or how our baby is…” He was breathing heavily now, and the roiling of his stomach was threatening to erupt into full-blown nausea. “Why don’t you *hate* me? If you had any pride left at all, you’d *despise* me for what I’ve done!”
“I could never hate you!” she retorted, glaring at him through a filmy haze of tears. Her voice broke. “I *love* you. I love you more than Marlena ever *dreamed* of loving you. I would *never* do what she’s done – I would never, *never* give you up. We *belong* together, John, can’t you see that? We’re a family! – You, me, and our baby!” She reached for his hand to clasp it to her stomach, momentarily forgetting that her baby wasn’t real – but he snatched his hand away before it made contact. They stared at one another, mere inches – and endless miles – between them.
The fury in his eyes slowly turned to icy calm determination. “No,” he said again, but this time his voice was quiet. “We are not a family, we will never *be* a family.” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I’ve had it with this, Kristen. I’ve tried to be nice, I’ve tried to be understanding…I’ve tried to do this as gently as possible, but it seems that nothing will get through to you but the plain, unvarnished truth.” He opened his eyes again and regarded her frankly, his expression one of pity and disgust, the only two emotions he had left to give to her. “I don’t love you. I don’t want you. It has nothing to do with Marlena, not really. It doesn’t matter that she and I aren’t engaged anymore, not when it comes to this.” A muscle in his jaw twitched.

“Right now, I can’t imagine spending my life with any other woman but her…but it’s remotely possible that someday in the far, far distant future that will happen.” He leaned forward, his breath warm on her face, and the look in his eyes froze her soul. “It won’t be with you, Kristen. It will never be with you. Do you get it now?”

Without waiting for her response, he turned on his heel and stalked from the room. Kristen stared after him in utter shock, tears coursing
down her pale cheeks. “No,” she whispered.
“Nonononononononooooooooooo…” Her fingers tightened convulsively on the pregnancy pillow, and she sank slowly to the floor. She began to shake her head violently, each movement accompanied by increasingly vehement denials. “No! *No!* *NO!* *NoooooooooOOOOOOO!*”
John slammed the office door behind him, heedless of the starbursts of pain the noise produced inside his head. The turmoil in his stomach sent him reeling toward the wastepaper basket behind the desk, just in time for the return engagement of his morning coffee. He could still hear the muffled sound of Kristen’s screams through the thick wood of the door, but he found himself curiously unmoved. You’re going to regret that once this hangover wears off, buddy, a voice in his mind predicted. John closed his eyes and sat back against the wall, the trashcan resting between his legs. The plaster felt cool against his back through the material of his shirt. He could feel the blood moving inside his veins with each painful throbbing of his head. Yeah, maybe I will regret it someday, another voice replied unconcernedly. But not today…
Chapter 77
Sami rubbed her bleary eyes and blinked down at the Calculus book in front of her. Three cups of strong Brady coffee hadn’t made a dent in her fatigue, and she was fighting back the urge to lay her forehead down on the polished bar and catch a quick nap. Will’s accident had put her seriously behind in all of her classes, and though her professors were generally understanding, she knew that the work would only pile up further the longer she put it off. Sighing, she took another sip of coffee and began to re-scan the page. This time, the ringing of the bell on the front door to the Pub interrupted her. She turned to see John and Bo enter the restaurant, both looking

considerably the worse for wear.

Bo muttered something under his breath about a file and staggered on unsteady legs toward the back stairway that led up to the main house. John shuffled toward the bar, his hand shading his eyes even in the Pub’s dim lighting. “Rough morning?” Sami asked sardonically, her tone a bit peevish. His oh-so-recent promise to never leave them against rang in a bitter refrain inside her mind.
He collapsed on the stool next to her. “You have no idea. I think my head is going to explode.” He moved his hand from his face to smile wanly down at her, blinking bloodshot eyes.
“Wow,” Sami muttered as her concern for him began to outweigh residual anger. He was clearly not taking the breakup well, whether or not it had been his idea. “You look like crap.”
John grimaced and took a sip of her coffee. “Gee, thanks. Nice to know I don’t look any better than I feel. We’ll blame it on Bo, all right? Last night’s outing to the Cheatin’ Heart was one of his less brilliant ideas…” He turned to regard her appraisingly. “If you don’t mind my saying so, you look a little wiped yourself…though still beautiful, of course.”
Sami smiled fleetingly. “Thanks…and you can blame *my* fatigue on *your* little angels. Belle and Brady *really* didn’t want to go to bed last night, and, of course, Will *had* to imitate his aunt and uncle.” She reached over and extricated her cup from his fingers.
He cocked an eyebrow, surprised. “You were at the apartment with Carrie?”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured through a swallow. “We thought you and Mom could maybe use a break.” He hastily averted his gaze and she felt another pang of sympathy. “Don’t worry, you don’t have to break the bad news – I heard already. Mom stopped by the apartment this morning before Chelsea picked the kids up.”
John tensed visibly at her mention of Marlena. “Did she- …what did she say?”
Sami shrugged. “The basics, I guess. You called off the wedding, she gave you back the ring.” She watched closely for his reaction, and was rewarded by a tightening of the jaw. “I have to be honest with you, John – I think you *waaay* overreacted.”
He scowled down at the polished countertop. “It’s complicated, Sami,”

he muttered under his breath.

“Seems pretty simple,” she replied pointedly. “One potentially happy family, blown to smithereens…*again*.” The hurt that laced her tone made him look up.
The look on her face nearly broke his heart. He swallowed. “Oh, Sami…Sami, I’m so sorry. I know how much you were counting on this.”
She gazed at him with burning eyes, but won the valiant struggle against her tears. “Yeah,” she managed through a watery chuckle. “Stupid, huh?”
He reached out to pull her into a hug. “Oh, no, baby. Not stupid. It’s never stupid to hope.”
She sniffed into his shoulder. “Yeah, well…it hurts like hell when it doesn’t come through, though. Especially when the reasons for it make as little sense as these do.”
He stiffened, then sighed. “I’m sorry,” he repeated. “I’m sorry this doesn’t make sense to you. I just…” his voice trailed off and he shook his head. “I’m sorry.”
She relaxed in his arms and hugged him back. “I know you are,” she admitted softly, chastened by the raw pain she could hear in his voice. “*You’re* sorry, *Mom’s* sorry, *I’m sorry…tell me something, John,” she mused thoughtfully, leaning back to look him in the eye “-if *nobody* wants this, why is it happening?”
John managed a wry, pained smile. “Beats the hell out of me, kid.” He gazed down at her fondly. “Is there anything I can do for *you*, Sami? I seems to have misplaced my former ability to ‘kiss it and make it all better’, but if there’s anything…”
She studied his face for a moment. “Actually, there is.” She paused and took a deep breath, then continued, “Mom didn’t come by today just to tell us about the breakup. She also wanted to ask Carrie to look after the kids for another night, until she had a chance to pack and move their things.”
“Move their things?” he interjected, frowning.
Sami nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t she tell you? She and Brady and Belle are moving back to the Penthouse.”
John ran a hand through his hair, considering her words carefully. “No…but I left my phone at home today. She’s probably left a message

by now.” He regarded Sami quizzically. “Did she say *why*?”

Sami nodded again. “She’s worried about Brady. And…what was it?…oh, yeah, she’s tired of ‘living a charade’.” She met his puzzled gaze squarely. “I guess she doesn’t see any point in living with Roman anymore if it won’t help her get you back.” John looked thunderstruck, and a persistent spark of hope flamed briefly in her heart. She quashed it ruthlessly. Not going *there* again… “Anyway,” she continued after a moment, “Mom told me that Will and I were welcome to come with, but I turned her down.”
John blinked. “Oh? Well, I guess it *would* be a little crowded over there…” He compressed his lips. “Anyway, your Dad’ll be happy you decided to stay…”
She took a deep breath. “Uh, well, I don’t think…not exactly…I, um,…actually, I told her we were going to live with you.” His eyes widened. “What?”
She chewed her lip uncertainly. “I said we were going to live with you. I mean, you said we were always welcome… and I just thought-…” Her voice trailed off and she averted her gaze nervously.
She suddenly found herself swept into a powerful embrace. “Of course, you’re welcome to live with me,” he murmured roughly, his cheek pressed against her shining hair. “I’d like nothing better in the entire world.” His hands slid down to frame her face, and he forced her to meet his gaze as both pairs of eyes brimmed with unshed tears. “I love you, sweetheart, and I’ll always want you with me.” His gaze darkened momentarily. “But your father…”
“I’ll handle my father,” she replied in a choked voice, enormously moved by the emotion in his expression. He *really* wants us… “Don’t worry.”
He swallowed convulsively, then nodded. “Okay,” he whispered. “Okay, then…” He leaned back and rubbed his forehead, attempting to organize his thoughts. “Okay. The, uh, the contractors are scheduled to finish in five days, and the beds are supposed to be the last of the furniture to be delivered. Can you hang on at the house until then?” She nodded, smiling her relief. “It’s no problem.”
“What’s no problem?” Bo interjected curiously as he approached the bar. He didn’t wait for the answer. “I got the file, man. We have about an hour to go over it before I have to get it back to the station.”

Sami eyed the thick file in Bo’s hands. “What’s that?”

John grimaced. “It’s the file on your Mom’s kidnapping. The cops are done going through the stuff Stefano left behind, and Bo’s letting me have a look at the final report.”
Sami raised an eyebrow and glanced at Bo. “Anything interesting?” Bo’s grimace was identical to John’s. “Nothing that will tell us whether or not he’s still alive, if that’s what you’re asking. Most of the files we recovered are in some sort of code, and no one’s had any luck breaking it so far. But we aren’t giving up.”
Sami nodded, smiling faintly. “I know. John wouldn’t let you.”
Bo grinned and gave John a friendly punch on the arm. “Yeah. He’s a real pain in the ass. You ready to go, man?”
John nodded and slid off of the barstool. “See you later, sweetheart,”
he said, kissing Sami on the cheek. “If you need anything, call me.”
“I will. Bye. Bye, Uncle Bo.” She watched silently as they made their way to the door. As Bo was reaching for the knob, someone opened it from the other side. Roman walked in, glancing questioningly at his brother and John, but they ignored him and slipped out the door without a word. Sami found herself repressing a small smile. She turned back to the bar and her Calculus text, hoping against hope that her father hadn’t seen her, but she soon felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end as he came up behind her. “Peanut?”

She closed her eyes and muttered a quick, heartfelt oath under her breath. Here goes nothing…
***
Marlena regarded her best friend patiently from the chair behind her desk. “I’m *sure*, Laura. I’ve considered this carefully, believe me. I just don’t see any point in continuing our sessions.”
Laura leaned forward, her concerned gaze searching Marlena’s calm face. “Are you sure? I thought you had decided you wanted your memories back.”
Marlena sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Well, I *did*…sort of. I wanted them back so I could prove to John that he was the man I truly loved.” She closed her eyes. “That’s a moot objective now. And the hypnosis sessions aren’t working, anyway.”
“You’ve remembered a few things,” Laura protested, disturbed by her

friend’s accepting passivity. “You remembered the cage, the gun…the blue nail polish…”

A small smile curved Marlena’s lips. “Oh, yes, the nail polish. I’m sure that’s the clue that will crack this case wide open.” She opened her eyes and regarded Laura apologetically. “I’m sorry, Laura – I know you’re only trying to help, and I’m not mocking you, truly.” She shrugged. “But I feel I’ve allowed all of this to consume my life for long enough. John and I…” she swallowed convulsively, then squared her shoulders, continuing, “…aren’t going to be together. And with that inducement to urgency gone, I’m willing to let things progress naturally. I believe that if I am meant to remember, I will do so without outside help. In the meantime, I want to regain some semblance of a normal life.” She picked up a picture of Belle and Brady that rested on her desk. “Which means taking care of the children-” she held up the patient folder in her other hand “-and helping my patients.”
Laura studied her face. “And what about love?” she asked softly. Marlena’s expression grew shuttered as she averted her gaze. “What about it?” she replied in a clipped tone.
Laura could sense the futility of prodding further. She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay, I can take a hint. I won’t pressure you any more.” Her eye caught on the folder in Marlena’s hand, and she frowned as she recognized the name on the tab. “Is that Arainna Huffington’s file?” She had known Arainna for years, and she’d found the woman’s downward spiral after the loss of her family disturbingly reminiscent of her own.
Marlena grimaced and nodded. “Yes. Reilly’s pushing for her release today, but I *don’t* think it’s a good idea. Unfortunately, she tests out as ready to leave on her own recognizance – has all the right answers, evinces all the right body language…and her insurance won’t cover anymore inpatient treatment. All I have to put up against that is a gut feeling.”
“Your gut feelings tend to be pretty accurate,” Laura responded. “I know how depressed she’s been since she lost Brianna and Brian, and I truly believe that her suicide attempt was indicative of a genuine desire to die. Do you think she’s still a danger to herself?”
Marlena regarded the folder bleakly. “I’m almost sure of it.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “We have one more session today. Maybe

something will happen to convince me otherwise…or to convince Reilly that I’m right.”

“He’ll never admit *that* in a million years,” Laura replied sardonically. “But if you’d like, I could talk to her. Maybe two opinions will hold more weight with him than one.”
Marlena sighed again. “I already tried that…yesterday, while you were in the ER with that attempted suicide. Weaver talked to her – and he told me this morning that he concurs with Reilly.”
Laura rolled her eyes. “Big surprise there. I’m sorry, I should have warned you – Weaver is what Shawn-Douglas would call ‘a first class, grade-A suck-up’. He wouldn’t disagree with Reilly if the man claimed the Earth was flat.”
“*Now* you tell me,” Marlena muttered tiredly, massaging her temples. “But it’s water under the bridge now. We’ll just have to wait and see, I suppose.” She glanced at her watch. “And speaking of Arainna-” A knock sounded on the door, and Marlena opened her eyes. “There she is now.”
Laura nodded and stood up. “All right. I’ll see you later.” She turned toward the door, then paused and looked back at Marlena. “Call me if you need anything…*anything*, all right? I’m here for you.”
“I know you are. There’s just nothing anyone else can do for me right now.” Marlena managed a grateful smile. “But, thanks.” ***

“Did you have a good time with your sister last night, peanut?” Roman asked as he sat down on the barstool next to hers.
“Peachy,” Sami muttered, reaching into her backpack for her calculator.
“That’s good,” Roman replied gamely. “So where’s Will this morning?” He leaned forward over the counter and snagged the half-filled coffee pot and an empty mug.
Sami shot him a look as he filled his cup. “He’s with his aunt and uncle. Chelsea took them to the petting zoo.”
“Hmm,” he muttered, staring down into the steaming liquid. “So…have you talked to your Mom, then?”
His tone was studiously casual – *too* casual – which made Sami roll her eyes. Geez…could you *be* any more obvious… She cleared her throat and snapped her calculator open. “She stopped by.”

Roman waited, but Sami said nothing else. “And? What did she have to say?” he asked after a moment.

Sami began to run her calculations. “Oh, the usual, I guess,” she muttered distantly. “Seeing about the kids, talking about the move…” Roman exhaled gustily, relieved. “So you know about the breakup, then?”
The fingers of her right hand tightened on her pencil. “Of course,” she replied in clipped tone, not meeting his gaze.
“Are you-…are you okay with it?” His tone was tentative, but hopeful, and his question immediately stoked the fires of resentment in her chest. Am I *okay* with it!?!
Her upper lip curled into a sneer. “Does it matter?” She glared up at him, and the anger in her eyes made him draw back slightly. “Does what I want matter to you, Dad? Or Carrie? Or Belle and Brady? Does what *Mom* wants matter to you?”
He restrained himself from reaching for her hand, faced with the near inevitability of a physical rebuff. “Of course, it does, peanut. All I want is for you children and your mother to be happy.”
“We *were*,” she retorted. “We *were* happy, until you moved in on Mom and screwed *everything* up! Why couldn’t you just back off, Dad? Why couldn’t you just leave them alone?”
The pain in her eyes compelled him to avert his gaze guiltily. “I-…” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I don’t know, Sami. I guess I just wanted to-” He shook his head, belatedly recognizing that nothing he could say would make a difference to Sami. “Oh, it doesn’t matter now.” He opened his eyes and glanced over at her. “But I guess this means you’ll be moving to the Penthouse, too, then.” She regarded him expressionlessly. “No.”
What? “You aren’t?” He couldn’t keep a slight lilt of hope from his reply. “Oh! Well, okay, then. I really do think this will work out well, peanut. We could fix up Eric’s room for Will-”
“No,” she repeated, cutting him off. “I’m not moving in with Mom, but I’m not staying with *you*, either.”
His eyes narrowed at her truculent tone. “Now, wait a minute, Sami. Pop told me about that dump of an apartment you rented last year – if you think you’re going to-”
“I don’t *require* your permission to do anything anymore,” she

interrupted sharply. “I can live wherever I damn well please. But it just so happens, I’m not going back to that apartment…and I’m not moving in with Carrie, either, so don’t even ask.” Her jaw set with sullen determination as she scowled at him defiantly. “Actually…I happen to be moving in with John.”

His mouth fell open for a few speechless moments. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“But-…you *can’t*! Sami, you aren’t even-”
“His daughter?” she finished bitterly. “I know that, Dad. *Believe* me, I know. But I don’t care, and neither does he. And it’s the best place for Will and me right now.”
Roman scowled, sudden fury causing him to choose his next words especially unwisely. “No! I absolutely *forbid* it!”
Sami clapped her book shut and shoved it into her backpack, slinging the bag over her shoulder with a contemptuous toss of her blonde hair. She slid off of the stool and turned her back to him, all in one graceful movement. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not asking your permission, isn’t it?” she snapped. “Sorry to drink and run, but I’ve got class.” She spun on her heel and marched out of the restaurant, leaving her stunned father in her wake.
What just happened? he wondered dazedly. *Sami* wants to live with *John*? He felt his earlier optimism – buoyed by his morning discussion-cum-fishing session with Shawn – begin to ebb away. If John had *Sami* on his side… A familiar anger began to boil in the pit of his stomach. He’s trying to be a father to *my* kids…*again*! He stood up from the stool and squared his shoulders. Well, I’m through giving up without a fight, and I’m fighting back beginning here and *now*! He turned and stalked out of the Pub after his daughter. ***

Marlena studied the silent woman seated on her couch. Arainna’s hands were clasped calmly in her lap, and she regarded Marlena with a serene expression and tranquil eyes. The only jarring element to the picture was the large, blonde-haired rag doll seated next to her on the cushion. Marlena knew the toy had been a favorite of Brianna’s, a gift from her father on her birthday mere weeks before her fatal illness had been diagnosed. Arainna had insisted upon bringing the doll with her to the hospital, and had carried it constantly to each of their initial

sessions. Marlena had finally persuaded her to leave the toy in her room, but now that Arainna knew she would be leaving soon, she was taking no chances. And her continued attachment to the doll was one of the few concrete indications that Marlena, as her doctor, could point to as a substantiation of her fears. “So she likes her kid’s doll,” had been Reilly’s dismissive response – though Marlena knew his chief concern pertained more to insurance coverage – or the lack thereof – than patient welfare. Damn, Marlena thought, managing with difficulty to school her features into a neutral expression. She smiled wanly at Arainna. “Are you excited at the prospect of returning home?”

She watched as Arainna considered her question carefully, and couldn’t shake the feeling that her patient was attempting to compose an answer that she thought her doctor wanted to hear – as opposed to simply telling the truth. Damn, damn, damn… A lead ball of fear and dread began to coalesce in the pit of her stomach.
“Yes,” Arainna finally responded. “It will be good to be back among my own things.”
Marlena nodded. “Do you have any anxiety at all about the prospect? Because it’s perfectly understandable…”
Arainna’s eyes narrowed momentarily as if she felt the questions was some sort of trick. “No. I’m sure it will be fine. It’s not as if I haven’t been there alone before, Dr. Evans. Brian and Bri-” she faltered momentarily “-Brianna have been gone for a long time now.” Her lashes lowered to conceal her eyes. “I’ve become accustomed to the silence.”
Marlena swallowed past the lump in her throat. “You’ve made a great deal of progress, it’s true, Arainna, but…”
Arainna glanced up, a flash of some unidentifiable emotion lighting her eyes momentarily. “I know you have doubts about me, Dr. Evans,” she responded calmly after a short silence. “I know you still believe I might pose a danger to myself.” She tilted her head to the side and chewed her lip thoughtfully. “I-…I truly appreciate all you’ve done for me, please believe that. I know that you’ve had the best of intentions…and I don’t want you to worry about me anymore, all right? You’ve done everything you could, everything *anyone* could.”
Not exactly a ringing reassurance, Marlena thought grimly. She rubbed nervous hands across her gabardine-clad thighs. “I will always

be concerned for you, Arainna,” she stated firmly. “And I will still be your doctor, even though you’re leaving the twenty-four-hour care facility. You know that.”

Arainna’s mouth curved in a small, sad smile as she stood up and gathered the doll into her arms. “You’ve been more than a doctor to me, Dr. Evans…*Marlena*. You’ve truly become a friend. And I appreciate everything you’ve done…but it’s time to move on now…” She paused in front of the desk, reaching down to pick up a framed picture of Belle and Brady. She traced the image of Marlena’s daughter with her index finger. “Do you *know* how lucky you are?” she asked absently, her voice low and intense. “Do you *know*?” Marlena bit her lower lip, hard. “I know,” she replied hoarsely.
Arainna set the picture down and hugged the doll tightly to her chest, burying her face in the soft yarn hair. She nodded shortly, averting her gaze, and turned toward the door. Once she’d reached it, she paused, her hand on the doorknob, and glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes met Marlena’s, and held them, for a long, endless moment. “Goodbye, Dr. Evans.”
The door clicked shut behind her. Marlena sat back in her chair and exhaled, sighing. She closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead. Goodbye, Arainna. And God help you… God help us all…

***
John sat behind the desk in his partially finished home office and regarded the open folder before him with blank, unseeing eyes. He’d stopped by the Titan building to check in after leaving Bo, and his secretary, Janie – her relief palpable – had pounced on him with a stack of urgent paperwork and phone messages, all of which required his instant, personal response. He felt guilty for making her job even more difficult than it usually was, but the last thing on his mind during the past few days had been the Alamain/Toscano empire he nominally headed. He’d only agreed to take the paperwork home so as to be able to make his escape as quickly as possible. Now that he had the inches-high stack in front of him, he felt even less interested in it than ever before.
He found his gaze resting on one of the framed pictures on the corner of the desk, a photo he’d rescued from the stack of storage boxes

piling up at the loft. It was a picture of he, Isabella and the twins all dressed up in their softball uniforms, taken only a few short months before Marlena’s return to Salem. He stared silently at the image of Sami’s beaming face, her earlier words at the Pub echoing in his mind. The thought that his little girl actually wanted to live with him filled his heart to bursting, but nothing could erase the pain caused by contemplating a future without her mother. Sighing, he leaned forward and buried his aching head in his hands, in turn cursing Bo, the Cheatin’ Heart and whoever was responsible for the discovery of drinkable alcohol underneath his breath.

For the second time that day his pained reverie was interrupted by a pounding on the front door. Oh, God, *please* don’t let it be Kristen again! he thought feelingly as he arose from his chair. He’d left her in the house that morning without another word when Bo had arrived to talk about Marlena’s case. He’d been greatly relieved to find her gone when he’d returned – no longer feeling up to another long, drawn out argument, and curiously ambivalent about offering her an apology. As far as he was concerned, if his brutal honesty had gotten her out of his hair, it was entirely worth it, as horrible as that sounded. But his hangover had subsided to the point that he’d probably tell her he was sorry, anyway, his guilt over leaving her always an inconvenient Achilles heel. And then she’d probably begin the whole irritating cycle of begging and crying all over again.
He rubbed his hand over his eyes as he strode down the hall. Get a grip, man, he ordered himself. Remember, do unto others… He reached the foyer, took a deep breath, and wrenched the door open. “Yes, hel-…*Roman*!?!”
The man on the doorstep scowled at him. “Yes, *Roman*,” he confirmed angrily, shoving John aside and striding into the hallway. “Roman *Brady*. That’s *me*.” He spun around to scowl at his rival. “Or did you somehow manage to forget that fact *again*?”
John glared up at the ceiling as he seriously pondered the advantages to never opening up his front door again. The process never seemed to go well… “This is about Sami, isn’t it?”
“No!” Roman shouted, leaning forward to poke John in the chest with an angry index finger. “This is about *you*, Black! What the *hell* is the matter with you?!?”

Chapter 78

Marlena slowly opened the front door of St. Luke’s and poked her head inside. “Hello? Father Francis?”
The diminutive priest appeared through a side door. “Hello, Marlena,” he greeted her, clasping her hand between his and drawing her inside. His wrinkled fingers felt comfortably warm against her skin. “Thank you for coming so quickly.”
Marlena nodded, smiling faintly. “Yes, well, it sounded quite urgent on the phone. Are you all right, Father?”
He waved off her concern as they entered the church sanctuary. “Oh, fine, fine, my child. I didn’t call you for myself. But, first, do you know how I might get in touch with John? I called his celphone, but there was no answer, and I know he is no longer at the house with you.”
Marlena shrugged in response to his query, refusing to meet the older man’s shrewd, discerning gaze. “I don’t know. I left several messages for him today myself, but he has yet to return my calls. Why, Father? Does John have something to do with why you called me?”
He regarded her gravely. “In a sense, yes. Please have a seat, my child.”
His solemn expression caused a flutter of concern to erupt in the pit of her stomach. “You’re making me nervous, Father. Is something wrong?”
He sat down next to her, his slight frame barely making an indentation in the cushion of the pew. “I’m afraid so.” His pellucid gaze met hers. “It’s about Aaron.”
Marlena inhaled sharply. “My-…my baby?” She swallowed
convulsively. “What about him?”
***
Roman stood in the foyer of John’s new mansion and glared at his erstwhile involuntary nemesis. The innocent, wronged expression on the other man’s face inflamed the bubbling cauldron of anger in the pit of his stomach, an anger that had never truly abated since the day he’d found out about John’s assumption of his identity. John had taken Roman’s family for his own – and never truly given them back. Marlena no longer wanted him, regardless of the state of her relationship with John, and Sami… Roman swallowed past the bile in his throat, willing his anger to be stronger than his pain. Anger he could handle…anger

he could use…but the pain…he couldn’t handle the pain. Involuntarily, his fists clenched.

John resisted an overwhelming urge to shove Roman back out onto the porch and slam the door in his face. He was exhausted, from both his acrimonious confrontation with Kristen and his emotional discussion with Sami – not to mention hours spent hashing out the draining details of Marlena’s case with Bo. The last thing he needed was to get into a fight with an obviously irrational Roman Brady. But as much as a part of him wanted to sweep Roman from the room, another part saw him as the perfect target for all the unspoken rage he’d been feeling since Marlena had returned his ring. And *Roman* obviously had something to say, so…why not?
“What the hell is the matter with me?” John repeated, scowling at Roman. “*Nothing* is the matter with me! What’s *your* problem?” “*You*!” Roman spat. “Of *course*! You’ve *always* been my problem.”
“Oh, right,” John intoned sarcastically. “I forgot – I’m responsible for every bad thing that’s ever happened to you. Poor, innocent, *noble* Roman Brady, victim of my endless evil machinations.” He rolled his eyes. “Well, *fine*, Roman, live in your deluded little dreamworld. I really don’t give a damn how you feel anymore.”
“When did you *ever* care how I felt?” Roman retorted. “When you slept with my wife? When you took my daughters away? When you tried to turn everyone in my family against me?” “What? Are you nuts? When did I try to do that?”
“From the minute I came back from that hellhole Stefano kept me in!” Roman fumed, turning to stalk toward the living room. His voice echoed loudly in the as-yet not-fully-furnished room. “With Carrie, when you tried to prove how much *cooler* you could be by encouraging her relationship with that *bastard* Austin. With Mom and Pop, by buying them the Pub like some sort of f**cking Santa Claus! And most especially with Marlena, when you lured her into a horizontal tango on your goddamn jet by threatening to leave town – God forbid *that* should happen! And on our *anniversary*, no less!” He whirled around and jabbed a finger toward John’s chest. “Everything you’ve ever done has been designed to prove to the world that you make a better Roman Brady than I do! Well, you know what?

No matter how hard you try, no matter *what* you do, you will never *be* me! You will never be the Roman Brady that Marlena fell in love with – Eric, Carrie and Sami’s father – Kim and Kay and Bo’s brother – Mom and Pop’s son! You will *never* be that man! Do you hear me? You will *never* *be* *ME*!” His voice rose to a furious shout and the veins in his neck stood out in sharp relief.

“For your information, I don’t *want* to be Roman Brady!” John spat back. “Roman Brady is a small-minded, pigheaded, vindictive little tyrant! When he doesn’t get what he wants, he sulks and runs away, in order to punish the world with his *absence*! He tries to control the people around him, making proclamations about how they should feel and act – like he’s *God* or something!” John leaned forward until his breath burned hot and furious against Roman’s face. “Want to *be* you? Hell, man, I don’t even want to *know* you!”
*Fine!* Roman retorted, stung. *FINE*!! Then get the *HELL* out of my life! Stay away from my house and my family! Stay away from my kids! Sh*t, spend a few million of your hard- earned dollars and LEAVE TOWN!” His lip twisted into a cruel smile. “After all, it’s not like you have any reason to stick around now, since Doc dumped you on your ass!”
John flinched perceptibly, his expression darkening. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he muttered after a moment. “And I am so damn sick of you acting like *everything* I do in life revolves around you. Because it doesn’t! Hard as this may be for you to believe, sometimes I go for *hours* without thinking about you.” He chuckled bitterly under his breath. “But you can’t believe that, can you? You can’t believe that *any* of us could have lives that don’t concern you.” His eyes glinted dangerously. “In fact, you probably think Sami wanting to live with me is all about you, don’t you?”
“Isn’t it?” Roman taunted. “I refused to agree with her that having a child out of wedlock with that idiot was the smartest thing she ever did
– so, of course, she’s mad! And what better way to get back at me than by shoving you and the Taj Mahal here in my face?”
John threw up his hands. “Gee, I don’t know, Roman. I guess you must be right! I mean, it’s not like you’re not a barrel of fun to live with, after all. I’m sure being tried, convicted and condemned on a daily basis is a million laughs. What *could* she be thinking?”

Roman’s face darkened, enraged to a mottled red. “Maybe she’s thinking that she’ll cozy up to you now that you don’t have anyone else,” he suggested snidely after pausing briefly to regroup. “If I’ve learned anything about my daughter since I’ve been back, it’s that she’s an expert at looking out for Number One. Maybe she’s aiming to become the heir apparent to your bloody Alamain fortune.” His tone dripped contempt.

John stared at him, astounded. “*Now* you’re saying it’s about money? God, Roman, how deluded *are* you? Is it so important to you that no one love me that you would slander your own daughter like that? You’d rather believe she’s a gold- digging schemer than entertain the idea that she might have decided to live with me just because she *wants* to!?!” Roman scowled and averted his gaze, and John tried to calm his furious breathing. This isn’t helping Sami…
“Look, Roman, no matter what you believe, Sami made her decision on her own, for her own reasons, and it’s not part of some plot on my part to steal your children. Whatever problems you have in your relationship with her, they’re *your* problems, and they come out of the things that *you* have done. Maybe you should try to deal with *that* – instead of blaming me for everything from acid rain to a bad hair day.”
“The things *I’ve* done?” Roman replied, incredulous. “I’m not the one who destroyed her family, John! That distinction belongs to you!”
“Oh, I see. *I* forced the pen into your hand and made you sign the divorce papers – hell, I guess I’m the one that had them drawn up! And I suppose that makes me the man who kicked Marlena out of her house and threatened to sue for custody of her children, too! Damn, how could I have forgotten doing all that?” He smacked the side of his head with his palm. “Must be the amnesia. But, oh, wait a minute – *you’re* one of the few of us who doesn’t *have* amnesia.” He snorted derisively. “Or are you just trying to take advantage of the fact that *Doc* can’t remember? Do you think that just because she can’t recall the events that she can’t read between the lines? She knows *exactly* what you did! And *Sami* – she hasn’t forgotten anything, Roman, including your inability to forgive Marlena for committing the horrible crime of being human. *You* taught her that, Roman – you’re the one who taught her to hold a grudge until the end of time! And now – what?

– you’re surprised that she’s using it against you? You deserted her when she needed you the most, Roman! Why in God’s name should she want you now?”

Roman swallowed convulsively as John’s words struck him directly where he was most vulnerable – his failure to be there for his children. The acrimonious indictment hung heavy in the air between them, as John waited, almost gloating, for him to defend himself.
***
Marlena regarded Father Francis with no little trepidation. “What *about* Aaron, Father? Oh, no…you didn’t tell anyone that-” She cut herself off before she could speak further.
He frowned, puzzled. “Tell anyone what?”
She shook her head. “No, I’m sorry. I know that you would never reveal…what you know about Aaron. About his paternity, I mean.”
His furrowed brow cleared. “Oh, that. No, of course, I haven’t told anyone. I would never break your confidence, even if I felt disclosure was warranted, which I don’t.”
She sighed in relief. “Oh. I wasn’t sure how you felt about it – I mean, technically, allowing everyone to believe that John was Aaron’s father instead of Stefano is a *lie* – but you didn’t say anything at the funeral, so I just assumed…Anyway, if this isn’t about his paternity, then what is it about?”
“His tombstone,” Francis promptly replied. “There’s been a…a mishap.”
She frowned. “Mishap?”
“I didn’t notice it myself, you understand,” he continued. “I’m sorry to say that we don’t get out to the cemetery as often as we should – only for services, mainly. It was Mr. Craig who told me, which makes sense as he’s here almost every day to visit his son’s grave. I’m growing a bit concerned about him, actually…” his voice trailed off thoughtfully for a moment, before he suddenly recognized his distraction. “Oh, Marlena, I’m sorry. Where was I? Oh, yes, anyway – it was Mr. Craig who brought it to our attention.”
“Brought *what* to your attention?”
“Well-” Francis looked up as the opening of the outer door interrupted his thought. “Ah, here he is.” He glanced back at Marlena. “Why don’t I let him tell you himself.”

Marlena twisted around in her seat to see Don enter the sanctuary, an unreadable expression on his face. “Don?” He didn’t respond, but appeared suddenly grimmer. “What is it? What’s going on?” ***

“I didn’t know about the rape before I left,” Roman finally answered John in a tight, controlled voice. “She didn’t tell me.”
“And when you found out, you came rushing home to help your little girl, didn’t you?” John finished sarcastically. “Must be something else I just forgot, then, because I seem to remember her going through all that alone, especially after she turned against Carrie. She hated Doc and me and refused to let us help her – for *your* sake, to punish us for *you*. And you couldn’t even be bothered to give her a call.” “The ISA-”
“*DAMN* the ISA!” John shouted. “I am so *sick* of you using the ISA to defend yourself – saying you deserted your family because you had to help save the world, or some such crap. You aren’t James Bond, Roman! I could name twelve agents off the top of my head who could do your job, and I haven’t even been a part of the agency for over a decade. You ran away, pure and simple. Why can’t you just admit that?”
“Why can’t *you* just admit that you hate me for taking back what’s mine?” Roman snapped back angrily. “You’d take over Roman Brady’s life again in a heartbeat, wouldn’t you? – even knowing the truth about who you are.” He snorted bitterly. “You know, every time I’m forced to listen to you complain about what Stefano did to you, I have to bite my cheek to keep from laughing. A *priest*, John? *You*? Do you expect me to believe that life would have made you happy? I can’t exactly see you living under a vow of celibacy – not *you*, of all people. In fact, you should probably get down on your knees and *thank* Stefano for what he did for you. He *gave* Marlena to you. You never would have gotten her otherwise.”
John’s face went white with rage. He couldn’t believe that Roman would minimize the hell he’d been through just to make a point. “You are *inSANE*!” he bit out. “Stefano brainwashed my entire *life* away! I know *nothing* about myself – not where I grew up, or the name of my best friend when I was a kid, or the color of the hair of the first girl I kissed…I don’t know *anything*! And whenever I try to recall my past,

all that comes up are *your* memories.” His voice cracked painfully, the fury he was feeling modulated by sudden, deep anguish. “Do you have any idea how it feels to know that most of the life inside my head isn’t even *mine*?”

“Do you know what it’s like to come in second in the competition for your own identity?” Roman returned hoarsely, his own anguish briefly shining through. “To spend *eight* years clutching at each and every shred of memory in order to retain your sanity, only to find out that the people you love the most didn’t even *miss* you? That they accepted someone else as you without a second thought?”
John closed his eyes – unwittingly, unwillingly touched by the pain in the other man’s voice. “This is useless,” he finally said, sighing tiredly. “We could spend hours arguing over which one of all of us suffered the most at that bastard’s hands. Doc spent five years in a coma and months in a giant gilded cage. I lost my name and my past. And you spent eight years in a hellhole while someone else lived your life.” He opened his eyes and regarded Roman dully. “But it doesn’t matter. Don’t you understand? It doesn’t make any difference anymore. What is, *is*, and we just have to learn to live with it.”
“Can you?” Roman’s tone wasn’t baiting, but honestly curious.
John shrugged and turned away. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying…I don’t know how successful I’ve been.”
Roman studied the other man’s back for a moment. “And what does you and Marlena deciding not to get married have to do with it?” John stiffened, then slowly turned back to face Roman. His expression was grimly icy. Well, if I wanted to hit a nerve…
“I don’t really think that’s any of your business, do you?” he snapped coldly.
Roman sighed and ran a hand through his disheveled curls. “Whatever…look, I didn’t come here to get into this with you. I just wanted to talk to you about Sami.”
“You wanted to ream me out for agreeing to let her live here,” John contradicted. “Look, Roman, Sami knows she’s always going to be welcome here – I’ve told her that, and I will never go back on my word. If you’ve got a problem with her living arrangements, take it up with her – and leave me out of it.”
“But I can’t, can I?” Roman retorted. “No matter how much I might like

to leave you out of just one *damn* thing, you’re always there, aren’t you? Invading every aspect of my life.”

John crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Roman. He finally rolled his eyes up toward the ceiling. “This is completely pointless…and annoying as hell. I think you can find your own way out.” He spun on his heel and disappeared into the back hallway.
Roman stared after him. “Well, *that* went well.” He glanced toward the luxurious appointments of the living room, then side to side down both of the spacious hallways. His mouth turned down in a sour frown. Yeah, John, the private wing and jacuzzi tub have *nothing* to do with her decision at all…
He turned his back and left the house, slamming the door so hard behind him that the hinges shook within the frame. ***

“Marlena,” Don murmured as he slid into the pew next to her after Francis had vacated his seat to return to the office. He gave her a kiss on the cheek. “It’s been a while since I’ve seen you. You look wonderful.”
She smiled at him. “Then you need to get your eyes checked. And speaking of…you don’t look so good yourself. Is Jack’s case getting you down?”
He shook his head tiredly. “No. Mickey and I are almost done with that, and it’s looking very good for Jack, actually. No, I just haven’t been sleeping well lately.”
She frowned. “Oh? Why is that? No, wait a moment, don’t answer – first, tell me what Francis was talking about. Is something wrong with Aaron’s tombstone?”
He reached for her hand and squeezed her fingers in a gesture of comfort. “Yes…in a way.” He took a deep breath. “It’s missing, Marlena.”
Her mouth fell open. “Missing,” she repeated blankly.
He nodded. “Yes. I noticed it was gone when I got here this morning – it was there yesterday afternoon, so someone must have removed it last night.”
“Oh,” Marlena said softly, staring down at her hands, her eyes brimming with sudden tears.
“Father Francis says the nicer markers are sometimes stolen to be

chiseled down again,” he continued uncomfortably. “He said Aaron’s was the only one taken last night, though.”

Marlena nodded mutely, managing with difficulty to contain her tears. “I’m sorry – it’s just, it was a really beautiful monument,” she whispered after a moment.
“I know,” he agreed kindly. “I’m sorry, Marlena.”
“No, I am,” she replied, brushing surreptitiously at her tears. “It’s only a monument. As long as the…the grave is undisturbed, it can be replaced.”
Don slipped an arm around her shoulders. “Hey, you don’t need that stiff upper lip around me, remember, kiddo? I know how important that was to you. I’m sorrier than I can say that someone would do something this sick.”
She leaned against his chest, allowing herself the momentary comfort of his warm embrace. “Thanks.” They sat together for a few moments in a contented silence. “So…” she finally began again, “you were going to tell me why you’re looking so tired.”
He compressed his lips. “I don’t really think this is the time…”
She sat back in the pew and gazed at him in concern. “Don? What is it? What’s wrong?”
A pained expression bloomed on his face, and he averted his eyes from her searching gaze. “I-…I haven’t told anyone this yet…” He closed his eyes. “I didn’t just come here for Jack’s case, Marlena. I was…I was running, too.” He winced, pained. “Running away from home. God, you’d think I’d have outgrown that by now.”
Marlena reached for his arm and gave it a squeeze. “Why?” she asked softly. “Why were you running?”
“I couldn’t stand to be there anymore,” he admitted. “The house was
so…so damn *quiet* without her.”
She held her breath. “Without whom?”
A solitary tear escaped to roll down his weathered cheek. “Without Donna,” he whispered. “Without my daughter.”
A shaft of alarm pierced her heart as she remembered the sullen, complicated girl who had blown into their lives like a whirlwind so many years ago. “Where is Donna, Don?” she asked hesitantly.
Don’s face crumpled at her query. “She came to live with me a few years ago, did you know that?” he whispered. “She’d had some more

problems – you know how she was, always searching, never satisfied… I thought I could help her through it – I thought it was a chance for us to-…I don’t know, form a relationship, I guess. But she was so wary, so guarded…and I guess I just got used to leaving a lot of things unsaid. She lived her life, I lived mine – but she was *there*, you see. She was *in* my life, and I thought things were getting better…”

Marlena bit her lip, horrifyingly certain of what was to come. “What happened?”
“I knew that she was depressed,” he continued achingly. “She’d broken up with her latest boyfriend, and she hadn’t been able to find work for a couple of months. I was hoping-…” he swallowed “…I was hoping she’d open up to me, talk about it… I was planning to ask her to help out at the office. She had a pretty good working knowledge of law, and I thought she might enjoy it. I was even thinking of setting her up with one of the junior partners, a real nice kid.” Another tear escaped to streak down his cheek. “I really think she would have liked him, and he would have treated her like she deserved to be treated-” His sentence ended on a choked sob.
Marlena leaned in to embrace him loosely, her cheek against his trembling chest. “What happened?” she asked again, much more softly.
“I came home one day for dinner…called out to her, but there was no answer…I went up the stairs…” His whole body was shaking now as tears streamed down his face, dripping onto Marlena’s shoulder. “She was in her room, lying on the bed. I thought she was sleeping, but-…something made me go in to check on her.” His voice cracked. “Oh, Marlena, she wasn’t breathing. The doctors-…the doctors said it had been hours by that point, but I thought-…I tried CPR, for nearly half an hour, I think. And I called for an ambulance, but when they got there, they said there was nothing they could do.” He finally opened his eyes to look down at Marlena, unsurprised by the warm sympathy in her eyes. The cold, panicked terror of that autumn day still burned within his chest. “She was dead – had swallowed an entire bottle of pills. The medical examiner said she must have done it right after I left the house that morning.”
“Oh, Don,” Marlena breathed, compassion and horror suffusing her

tone.

“My baby killed herself,” he murmured distantly, as if testing out his ability to actually utter the words. “She’s gone…they’re both gone.” The recent abrupt regularity of his visits to D.J.’s grave suddenly made sense to Marlena. To lose each one of your children… “I’m so sorry, Don,” she said, hugging him close. “I’m so terribly sorry.”
He nodded into her shining hair and returned the embrace. “Thank you,” he replied hoarsely. “You know, I’ve never literally said the words before. God, that was hard. But…it feels a little better to finally say it.”
She stroked his cheek. “No one else in Salem knows yet?”
He shook his head. “No…and if you don’t mind…”
Marlena leaned back to meet his gaze squarely. “Of course, I would never break your confidence, Don. But you have to know that everyone here would want to be there for you. We’re your *friends*, Don.”
“I know,” he assured her. “Believe me. I know. But telling everyone…makes it so *final*, so *real*.” He shook his head. “It sounds nonsensical, doesn’t it? But that’s how I feel.”
“It makes perfect sense,” she replied loyally. “And I want you to know, if you need someone to talk to – about *anything* – I’m here for you, Don. I mean that.”
His smile was grateful, but it was clear that the subject was making him increasingly uncomfortable. “Thank you. I really appreciate it.” He shifted in his seat and forced an amused expression onto his face. “But are you saying you don’t think your fiance would mind you hanging around with your incredibly dashing first ex-husband? My, he’s a confident man.” She stiffened in his arms. “What? Is something wrong?”
She bit her lower lip as she extricated herself from his embrace. “No.
It’s just-” She sighed, tiredly, and glared up at the ceiling. “Oh, I’m so
tired of this.” Her gaze fell to Don’s perplexed face, and she managed
a sour smile. “I’m sorry, Don. It isn’t you.” She took a deep breath and
held up her left hand, wriggling the bare ring finger. “John’s not my
fiance anymore.”
Don blinked. “What?”
Marlena nodded, schooling her expression into one of studied

unconcern. “You heard correctly… And if you really want to hear about it, I’ll tell you, but not unless you come to dinner with me.”

He studied her closed, determined countenance and, utilizing years of long practice, read the warning signals correctly. “All right,” he agreed slowly, standing up to draw her out of the pew. “But you’re buying.” Her lips twitched in amusement as they headed toward the door.
“Cheapskate,” she muttered, sotto voce.
He grinned. “Nag.”
They exited the church in companionable accord.
Chapter 79
Marlena inserted her key in the front doorknob and turned to smile up at Don. “Are you sure you don’t want to come in for a cup of coffee?” He shook his head. “Sorry, no, I still have some work to do on Jack’s case before I get to bed. But I will come in and borrow your phone, if I may. If Mickey’s home, I need to swing by his house and pick up a file.”
“Sure,” she said, opening the door. “Thanks for joining me for dinner.” “It was my pleasure,” he told her as they walked inside, “I-…hey, Roman.”
Roman smiled at him briefly from his position on the couch, before turning a questioning gaze on Marlena. “Hello, Don…Doc – what have you two been up to?”
“Dinner,” Don replied succinctly, ignoring the hint of pique in Roman’s tone. “Marlena offered to cook, but I thought my stomach was probably a little too out of practice for tha- *oof*.”
Marlena removed her elbow from his stomach and smiled winningly up at him. “There’s a phone in the kitchen, Don.”
“Thanks, kiddo,” he said as he pushed open the kitchen door.
Roman watched him go, before looking back at Marlena, eyebrows raised. “Collecting ex-husbands?” he asked mildly.
She shot him a brief glare. “Don’t start with me, Roman. It hasn’t been a good day.”
His own expression soured. “Yeah, tell me about it. Sami dropped the bomb on me at the Pub this afternoon.” He shook his head. “I really don’t understand why she’s doing this to us.”
Marlena frowned at him. “She’s not doing anything to *us*, Roman.” “Oh, come on, Doc,” he scoffed. “You can’t tell me you actually believe

this isn’t about punishing us. She’s mad at me about Will, and you…well, she’s mad at you for God knows what reason! Moving in with John is just a way to get back at us.”

“Moving in with John is what she wants to do!” Marlena retorted, exasperated. “Hard as this may be for you to believe, Roman, it’s truly not about *you*, all right? Now, I know she *is* angry with me, but her anger stems from her disappointment over my breakup with John. She was really counting on our getting married and moving into the new house together, as a family…and I suppose she just doesn’t see any reason not to go through with her plans, simply because *I* won’t be coming along.”
“John is not her father,” Roman replied stiffly. “She has no business living with him if you’re not there.”
Marlena closed her eyes and mentally counted to ten. She exhaled tiredly as she opened them. “Look, Roman, we’re never going to agree on this. But I’ll tell you something right now – *don’t* get into it with Sami about this situation. The only thing that will accomplish is to further harm your relationship with her. Whether you – or I – like it or not, our daughter is a grown woman, and she can make her own decisions without our permission or approval. And judging from what I’ve been told of *my* relationship with her over the past few years, she is perfectly capable of cutting her parents completely out of her life. Is that what you want?”
“Of course not!” he disagreed hotly. “But I will not pretend that I approve of this *plan* of hers. And I will not act like it’s all right with me for her to live with John!”
“I suppose it’s a good thing she doesn’t care what you think, then,” Marlena muttered under her breath, turning to smile at Don as he exited the kitchen. “So, was Mickey home?”
Don looked from Roman to Marlena, raising an eyebrow as he picked
up on the tension between them. “Yes. I’m going by there now. Walk
me out?”
“Certainly.”
***
John stood on the edge of Pier 29 and gazed out across the water, wondering what in the world he was supposed to do now. His conversation with Roman earlier in the afternoon had left him with a

curious feeling of contentment – an emotion in direct contrast to the tenor of their discussion, which had been acrimonious in the extreme. Allowing himself the luxury of saying things that he’d been bottling up for years was freeing somehow, because John’s perpetually stifled anger over their bizarre situation had always created deeply-felt anxiety whenever he’d been in the same room with the other man.

And now the anxiety was gone, leaving in its place both a gaping emptiness…and a spark of hope. He had given himself permission to vent his fury over Roman’s eternal victimhood, and the world hadn’t ended as a result. God hadn’t struck him down for daring to pierce Roman’s veil of self-pity. And, shock of shocks, he didn’t even feel guilty for doing so. He felt…triumphant.
He closed his eyes and smiled a little. A tiny bit triumphant, anyway. I always thought that being angry with Roman would mean I was somehow admitting I was a small, petty person. I could never allow myself to feel that emotion for the man I used to believe myself to be. But now…
His smile widened and he opened his eyes. “Now…anything is
possible,” he ruminated to the listening stars. “Anything at all. Anything

I want…” He gazed out across the water to the far shore. “So the
question becomes…what *do* I want? And how do I go about getting
it?”
***
Bart halted outside the door to Stefano’s sickroom, mentally bracing himself in preparation to enter and face the man inside. He found the whole place macabre in the extreme, and the invisible sword of Damocles hanging over his head didn’t make coming there any easier. He lived in daily terror that Stefano would somehow find out he’d been the one to fix the brake lines on Dr. Evans’ car – and come to realize that responsibility for the death of his son rested on Bart’s shoulders. And Kristen’s, of course, but Bart harbored no illusions that fact would in any way ameliorate his probable punishment – in fact, if he was any judge, she’d probably share it. No, depending on Daddy’s attachment to his adoptive little girl to keep them alive was not a good idea. And that meant he had to do whatever he could to bury the truth.
He glanced down at the object he carried in his hands. I hope I’m not about to blow myself right out of the water… Taking a deep breath, he

pushed the door open. “Is he awake?” he asked the nurse who hovered against the near bedroom wall. He’d noticed that she tended to stay as far from Stefano as possible, but now she had a new, more tangible reason for camping out in the far corner. The tombstone next to the bed loomed ominously toward everyone who entered the room, proclaiming to all the death of baby Aaron Leo Black. The nurse shot Bart a frightened look and didn’t answer his question. He understood her fear – and shared it.

“I am awake,” a low voice replied from the direction of the bed. His employer’s voice had strengthened over the past few days, and was now a muted version of his accustomed basso profundo. His tone was also cold – colder than Bart could ever remember hearing before, and he had plenty of bad memories to mine. He swallowed uneasily and glanced again down at his hands, feeling a pang of guilt for what was likely to come for Dr. Evans and Mr. Black. Unless he missed his guess, they were in for major heartache. He briefly closed his eyes. Not your problem, man…you gotta look out for Number One. God knows, no one else will…
“I brought it as you asked, Mr. DiMera,” he replied as he approached the bed, giving the marble tombstone a wide berth.
“Give it to me,” Stefano commanded, waving a peremptory hand toward the nurse. “You! Get over here and explain this to me.” Frightened, the nurse did as she was bid, approaching to take the manila folder from Stefano’s hands with shaking fingers. She opened it to reveal a sheath of papers covered with medical information. Bart had not been able to make head nor tails of it, as he was completely unschooled in physician’s jargon. He could only hope that nothing in Dr. Evans’ patient file contradicted the story Kristen had concocted. If Stefano discovered that her miscarriage had been accidental and not induced, he might decide to inquire further into the circumstances of the car crash, and then he might find out… No! Bart thought, squeezing his eyes shut.
The nurse’s voice was barely a whisper. “I-…um, well, this notation from the day of the accident…it says that Dr. Johnson in the ER examined Dr. Evans when she arrived at the hospital. She found…multiple abrasions, a mild cranial contusion, a wrenched ankle…a further examination of the fetus indicated no trauma-” Her

voice caught as she looked up at Stefano with wide, scared eyes. “The baby was fine.”

Stefano’s cold expression hardened into granite. “What else?”
The nurse swallowed audibly. “Dr. Bader’s notes…indicate an appointment scheduled later that day to induce a miscarriage.” She peered closely at the crabbed lettering. “It says…it says the fetus was dead when the procedure took place.”
“Indeed.” Stefano’s tone was positively glacial. “But we know differently, do we not?” he asked Bart. “Kristen told us what she overheard.”
The nurse licked her lips nervously. “It seems unlikely that the doctor would have lied in her private patient files,” she offered tentatively. “I mean, why would she?”
Stefano turned a thunderous scowl on her, and she shrank away to cower against the wall, the papers falling from nerveless fingers. “Dr. Bader is a friend and colleague of Dr. Evans’,” he snapped. “And John Black is well aware of the extent of my influence. He would have persuaded her to conceal the truth, thinking I could be misled by mere paper.” His furious gaze lowered to rest on Aaron’s tombstone. “They killed my son…and then they buried him under another man’s name.” Bart shivered at the sheer rage dripping from his boss’s every word. “They will pay, all of them…they will pay dearly.”
The relief Bart had expected to feel upon the knowledge that Kristen’s lies had passed muster was absent. Instead, he found himself filled with an awful sense of foreboding and sheer, unadulterated dread. Oh, God…what *have* I done? He froze in his tracks as Stefano’s searing gaze pinned him to the floor. He swallowed thickly and rasped, “Yes, Mr. DiMera?”
Stefano’s scowl was black and menacing. “I have a job for you, Bart. A
very important job…”
***
Kristen awoke to find herself laying in the middle of the living room carpet amidst the detritus of an alcohol and junk food binge. Her head pounded furiously and she groaned, shading her eyes from the dim overhead lighting as she wondered what time – and what *day* – it was. She’d returned immediately to the house after her earlier confrontation with John, nearly shaking with pain and fury. His angry

words had wounded her to her soul, and she’d instantly set about doing what she could to obliterate her memory of those events. Three bottles of wine later, their encounter was still burned into her mind, every agonizing second of it.

“We are not a family, we will never *be* a family…I don’t love you. I don’t want you…Do you get it now?”
I get it. She closed her eyes and let out a choked, anguished sob. What am I supposed to do now? For months, her every waking moment had been dedicated to the goal of breaking up John and Marlena. And now it had finally happened – and she was no closer to getting him back than she had ever been. No closer? a nasty little voice inside her head smirked. Try ‘Nowhere Near’.
Stricken, Kristen pulled her shirt over her head and ripped off the pregnancy padding, scrambling drunkenly to her feet to throw it across the room, where it landed with a muffled thump against the sliding glass doors. She stood there, trembling, as tears streamed down her cheeks. “Damn him,” she whispered as her fists clenched and unclenched. “Damn him! *Damn* him! DAMN HIM!” She yanked at the couch cushions, ripping them to bits and flinging them across the room with abandon. The table lamps were next, followed by the books on the shelves that lined the room, and then all of Stefano’s hideous knickknacks. “I hate him,” she swore. “I hate him, I hate her, I hate *them*, I hate *EVERYTHING*! They’re going to pay for this! I’m going to MAKE THEM PAY!” Stefano’s chess set sailed through the glass doors, shattering them for the second time. The crash of broken glass sent a shot of adrenaline flying through her veins, and it spurred her orgy of destruction onward. “WE WILL HAVE OUR REVENGE!! HE WILL REGRET THE DAY HE *EVER* REJECTED US!!” Clutching at her achingly flat belly, she screamed the words so loudly that she could feel a raw, scraping pain in the lining of her throat. Then the noise subsided to a low keen as she stared, panting, at the ruins of all her dreams. Slowly, her shoulders slumped in defeat.

Then a sudden idea struck her, and, without another word, she spun on her heel and marched out the front door, pausing only to snatch up her keys and a jacket, leaving utter devastation behind her. ***

Sami thumped down the stairs and paused on the bottom step,

pinning Roman with a glare. “Where’s Mom?”

“Walking Don to his car,” Roman replied, frowning slightly at her.
“Sami-” he added when she turned to go back up.
She scowled over her shoulder. “What?”
“I want to talk to you,” he said firmly, pointing at the cushion next to him. “Come here and sit down.”
She considered his command for a moment before reluctantly turning back toward the living room. But instead of taking the seat he proffered, she took the chair adjacent to the coffee table. “What?” she demanded as she flopped down onto the cushion.
“I want to talk about this business of you moving in with John.”
She rolled her eyes. “What about it?”
He took a deep breath and reined in his temper. “I *don’t* think it’s a good idea,” he managed to say evenly. “I don’t think you’ve fully considered all of the ramifications.”
“Worried that everyone in town will know your kids prefer another father to you?” she asked lightly, though her words were meant to sting. “Don’t worry about it, Dad. I’m sure everyone will assume I’m in it for the jacuzzi and the horses. Your reputation is safe.”
Her dig was so reminiscent of his earlier thinking that his cheeks reddened faintly. “I’m not worried about that,” he muttered.
“Then there’s no problem, is there?” she shot back, leaping up from
her chair and making for the stairs. “I’ve got a paper to work on.”
“Samantha Gene Brady, stop right there!” he ordered angrily. Her
back stiffened and she turned to glare at him, but he held his ground.
“I said, sit *down*!”
***
Marlena and Don stood out on the front porch and gazed up at the stars in silent accord.
“Did I sense a bit of tension in the room back there?” Don finally asked, breaking the silence.
Marlena sighed. “Oh, you noticed that, did you?”
“Kinda hard to miss,” he admitted. “Is something wrong?”
Marlena wrapped her arms around her chest, never taking her eyes off of the distant points of light in the sky. “Not *wrong*…exactly. You remember, I told you at dinner that the kids and I are moving back to my old penthouse, right?” Don nodded. “Well, Sami has decided not to

come with us…*and* she has decided she doesn’t wish to stay here with her father.”

Don frowned. “So, where’s she going to go?”
“She and Will are moving in with John.”
His eyebrows flew upward. “With *John*? Isn’t that…a little odd? Are you okay with that?”
Marlena shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter if I am, Don. She’s old enough to make her own decisions, and I know John will want them there if that’s what she wants.”
“You mean, she didn’t ask him first?”
Marlena finally turned to meet Don’s gaze, smiling ruefully. “She didn’t need to, Don. She knew what his answer would be.”
“Oh.” He considered that. “I suppose Roman wasn’t too thrilled by her decision, hmm?”
“Not too thrilled is an understatement,” she confirmed. “And it’s not as if I don’t understand the way he feels. But he seems determined not to recognize that the feelings Sami has for John are real – he’s decided that she made her decision just to spite the two of us.” “And you don’t see it that way?”
She shook her head. “No, I don’t. I do agree that she’s angry with both of us, but I don’t think that’s the chief reason behind her decision. I know that this is what Sami really wants…or as close to it as she can get, anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
Marlena bit her lip regretfully. “Well…what she really wants is for John and I to get married, and for all of us to live in the new house as a family.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “I can’t give her that…but I *can* give her the gift of not belittling what she wants and how she feels. I only hope Roman can come to that same realization before it’s too late.”
Don was silent for a moment. “Wow. Sounds like a really bad situation all around.”
Marlena nodded and raised her gaze back to the heavens. “That about sums it up,” she murmured.
“So…need any help moving tomorrow morning?”
She smiled wanly. “No, but thank you. Laura and Maggie said they would come by to help, and it really won’t be that much, anyway –

mainly clothes and the kids’ toys. It probably won’t even take the whole morning to move everything. And I know you still have work to do for Jack’s trial.”

Don slid a comforting arm around her shoulders. She tensed momentarily, then allowed herself to relax against him. “I don’t think Mickey would mind if I took a few hours off to help an old friend,” he said. “So you call me if you need anything, okay? And I’ll be here with bells on.”
She chuckled. “Oh, *there’s* a mental picture.” Her smile faded and she leaned her head against his chest. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” he promptly replied, reluctantly pulling his arm away. “But I’d better get back and go over the files for the motions we’re presenting next week. Are you going to be okay?”
She nodded. “I’ll be fine, Don. Don’t *worry* about me, okay? I’m always fine.”
He reached up to cup her cheek with one hand, turning her face to meet his and gazing deeply into her eyes. “No, you aren’t,” he disagreed in a whisper. “And you shouldn’t pretend that you are. I know you’re hurting.”
Tears began to shimmer, but she blinked them back. “There’s nothing you can do, Don,” she managed to reply. “I’ll be all right.”
Swallowing past a lump of tender emotion, he nodded slowly. “He’s a fool, you know. An utter and complete fool.”
She made a choked noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a sob. “Who?”
His fingers trailed gently down her cheek. “John…” he breathed. “…Roman…me…” His thumb came up to rub a wayward tear away. “We’re all fools to ever give you up. To let go of the best thing to ever happen to any of us…absolute fools…”
She bit her lip and backed away, once again hugging her arms to her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, her tone one of aching sadness and regret. “Goodnight, Don.” She reached for the doorknob, turned it, and disappeared back into the house.
He stared blankly at the space where she’d been standing, his expression tired, miserable and lost. “Goodnight, sweetheart.” ***

Marlena halted in the doorway as the door clicked shut behind her,

slowly taking in the sight before her eyes. “What’s going on?” she asked as her glance flicked from Roman to Sami. She swiped surreptitiously at her remaining tears. “Are you two arguing?”

“When *don’t* we argue?” Sami replied flatly. “Dad here was just telling me that he’s not too into me moving in with John. And I was just mentioning that I don’t happen to *care* what he thinks.”
Marlena shot Roman a brief glare, as if to say, You never learn, do you? She sent up a quick prayer for patience and turned to Sami. “Have you spoken to John yet?”
Sami regarded her mutinously. “Why? Are you going to try to get him to refuse to let me?”
Marlena shook her head and sighed. “No, of course not. I was just wondering how the renovations were going. I didn’t think the bedrooms were going to be finished for another week.”
“Oh,” Sami replied, slightly mollified. “Well, they won’t be. I told John I could get by here for another week.” She darted an angry glance toward her father. “Probably.”
Oh, for Pete’s sake, Marlena thought, suddenly too tired to deal with the subject any more that evening. “Is Will asleep?”
“No. He’s not here – I let him stay with Lucas tonight so I could get some work done on my paper.”
Marlena ran a hand through her hair. “Oh, yes, how’s that going?”
“Fine,” Sami replied shortly. “Are Belle and Brady at Carrie’s?”
She nodded. “Yes. It seems we are kid-free this evening, and I think I’ll take this opportunity to get to bed early. Good night, you two.” She turned and vanished up the stairs.
Sami stared after Marlena thoughtfully, her angry mask vanishing along with her mother. “She looked upset,” she murmured absently. “Don must have said something to her,” Roman put in.
Sami snorted. “Yeah, right. It must be *Don*, or *John*, or *me*…or *aliens* from outer space! Because it sure couldn’t be *you*, could it? You would *never* upset her.”
“Hey!” he objected. “I’ve barely even spoken to her since she got home.”
“You don’t get it, do you?” Sami shot back. “You don’t have to say anything! Your mere *presence* is enough to make someone want to scream. Now if you’re through grilling me, I have *work* to do!” She

didn’t wait for a reply before following after Marlena.

“Damn.”
***
Roman took another swallow of beer and laid back on the couch-slash-bed to gaze up at the ceiling. The cold liquid sliding down his throat did nothing to cool his simmering temper. Nothing’s working out like I planned, he thought. He’d assumed that once John and Marlena were no longer together, everything would be different…everything would be *better*. But, instead, everything was worse. Now, not only was *he* miserable, but everyone around him was, too. And he was feeling a few pangs of entirely unwelcome guilt every time he remembered the pain lurking underneath the anger on his little girl’s face. I never meant to hurt you, he thought. His mental-Sami appeared dubious about that claim.
He turned his head toward the fireplace, his bleary gaze taking in the row of pictures on the mantle. No one had bothered to alter the arrangement once Marlena had found out John’s true identity, so the photos were mainly old ones of John and Marlena with the twins and Carrie, or much more recent ones of them with Brady and Belle. Looking at the pictures laid out like that, Roman suddenly felt an uncomfortable sensation – as though his presence had somehow been erased from the intervening years. Everyone looks so happy… Little Eric and Sami gazed up at their ‘Daddy’ adoringly, while Carrie wound her arms around him in a possessive hug. Roman closed his eyes to blot out the images, but he couldn’t stem the floodtide of realization. All those years that he had studiously avoided thinking about…the years he’d imagined his children missing their father, and Marlena missing her husband…they had been happy – truly happy.
Damn!
Roman decided two beers were entirely insufficient unto the day and pulled himself up on the couch, sighing heavily. He headed toward the kitchen to retrieve another bottle; the door swung back behind him as he reentered the living room. He stomped his feet loudly against the carpet to break the oppressive silence…and then the shattering of the beer bottle against the fireplace grate provided further noise, as a piercing cry from upstairs startled him into to dropping it.
He blinked blearily at the stairway as the scream sounded again. What

the *hell*? Who *is* that? The shards of glass upon the carpet were forgotten as he raced toward the stairs, taking them two at a time. Chapter 80

Roman reached the top of the staircase in time to meet Sami stumbling out the door of her room, blinking rapidly through the gloom, her hair mussed from sleep. She clutched the doorjamb with whitened knuckles as her frightened gaze met his, a wordless question in her eyes. Was that Mom?
As one they turned toward the master bedroom door. Roman waved his daughter back impatiently, concerned for her safety in the face of whatever threat had made Marlena cry out so loudly. An ominous silence emanated through the door now, and Roman cursed the impulse that had led him to store his gun in the lockbox in the garage. He’d been nervous about having it out with children in the house, even though he’d kept it unloaded, but now his prudence seemed to be working against them. Marlena’s screams indicated the inadvisability of taking the time to retrieve the gun from its hiding place. So he had nothing with which to defend his family against the nameless threat inside the bedroom, except for his fists and his brains.
Here goes nothing! He braced his back against the door and reached for the knob, shooting a quick glare at Sami to send her back inside her room. Frowning worriedly, she reluctantly complied. He slowly turned the knob and was surprised to feel no resistance – Why would the door be unlocked? He threw it open, ducking back against the wall to stay out of the line of fire, but no gunshots spewed forth. Taking a risk, he peeked around the doorjamb, but he couldn’t see anyone lurking inside the room. Marlena was sitting upright in the bed, silent, her face lost in the shadowed darkness. Swallowing, he eased his way inside, darting a nervous glance toward the closed bathroom door. “Doc!” he whispered urgently. She didn’t reply.
Cursing under his breath, Roman made his way over to the bathroom and listened at the door for a moment, but he couldn’t make out any noise on the other side. Finally, tired of the game, he flung the door open, counting on a combination of surprise and momentum to give him the advantage.
But there was no one there.
Confused, he turned back toward the main room and reached up to

flip on the light. The ensuing brightness caused him to blink rapidly. “Doc?”

Marlena didn’t look up at him. In fact, she didn’t even seem to realize that he was in the room. She sat upright in the middle of the bed, her back ramrod straight, her unfocused gaze centered on the bedspread in front of her. Her hair was mussed from sleep, and the maroon football jersey she wore hung down on one slim shoulder. Football jersey? Roman frowned, momentarily distracted. The Marlena he knew had always favored silk or satin – feminine sleepwear – and he couldn’t imagine that the jersey was hers. Which probably meant that she was wearing it for sentimental reasons…and he knew very well that it had never belonged to him. Damn…
Not relevant, Roman lectured himself, wrenching his mind back to the matter at hand. “Doc?” he asked again, worried by her continued silence. He stepped closer to the bed and noticed that the color had drained completely from her face. Her fingers were white-knuckled where they gripped the edge of the comforter, and her teeth clamped down on her lower lip so hard that he feared she was going to draw blood. She rocked back and forth slightly, apparently oblivious to everything around her.
“Is she still asleep?” Sami asked in a hushed voice from over by the doorway. “Why hasn’t she said anything?”
“I told you to stay in your room,” Roman snapped impatiently. “Actually, *technically*, you didn’t,” she retorted, not taking her eyes off of her mother. “It doesn’t matter now. What’s *wrong* with her?”
A muscle in Roman’s jaw twitched as he contemplated his ex-wife. “I
don’t know.”
***
Kristen entered her house, her arms full of paper bags, and kicked the door shut behind her with such force that her bootheel gouged the wood. She flung her keys across the foyer where they clattered against the tile and came to rest against the wall. Without pausing, she swept into the living room, withdrawing a bottle of vodka from one of the bags and dropping the rest onto the couch. She ripped the label off and unscrewed the top. “Cheers, you backstabbing bastard,” she proclaimed bitterly, tipping the bottle toward the picture of she and John that rested on the mantle above the fireplace. She gulped back

three or four generous swallows and came up sputtering. “I hope you and your precious, sainted Marlena rot in hell!”

Kristen took another slug and whirled around, blinking blearily, to fall down upon the couch, spilling half of the bottle of liquor in the process. Dismissing the mess, she dug into another one of the bags and pulled out a heavy, paper-wrapped parcel. With trembling fingers, she pulled away the tape, revealing a small, gleaming handgun. She contemplated it silently for a moment; then a tight, angry smile curved her lips. “And maybe…just maybe…I’ll help the both of you get there.” ***
Roman and Sami stared at Marlena as she rocked back and forth in the middle of the bed. “Is she awake?” Sami whispered uncertainly.
“I don’t know,” Roman replied. “Maybe it’s some kind of nightmare.” He pulled one knee up to rest on the bed and leaned in toward Marlena. “Doc?” he called, but there was no response. Up close, her lack of reaction was even more disconcerting. Her eyes were wide open, the pupils dilated to twice their normal size, and her face was rigid with tension. She was visibly trembling. He reached out a tentative hand to touch her shoulder.
Her reaction was immediate and violent. She pulled away, scooting back until she hit the headboard with a resounding *smack*. She drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them to curl up into a tight, anguished ball, and ducked her head to hide her face. The frantic rocking continued, but she still didn’t make a sound.
Roman glanced helplessly at Sami, who was staring at her mother, her own fear and trepidation evident. She licked her lips nervously. “Mom?” she asked, her voice soft. She moved forward to kneel beside the bed. “Momma? It’s Sami.” She reached out to brush her mother’s knee, ignoring Roman’s frantic wave not to touch her.
Marlena didn’t pull away, but neither did she look up. The rocking slowed, then stopped, as if she were drawing comfort from her daughter’s touch. “Mom?” Sami said again. “Are you okay?”
They both jumped at the faint sound of the front door opening. Marlena drew away from her daughter to huddle against the headboard, and Sami and Roman both turned toward the hallway, frowning at the sound of feet on the steps. They hurried to the door, managing to close it behind them as the intruder neared the top of the

staircase. Roman braced himself for a violent confrontation.

“John!” Sami exclaimed, her face a picture of relief as he came into view. “Oh, thank God you’re *here*!”
“What’s wrong with Doc?” John asked almost frantically, his eyes searching her worried expression. “God, Sami, what’s wrong with her? Is she all right?”
Roman reached out to stay Sami’s hand as she made to open the door. His irritation with John stemming from their earlier confrontation had not abated, and the timing of the other man’s arrival was suspect, to say the least. “What makes you think something is wrong?” he asked suspiciously. How in the hell did he know to come here?
John’s worried gaze flicked from Sami to Roman. “I-” he swallowed, “Well, I was on my way over here, and I just got this feeling that she was…*frightened* of something.” He shrugged. “I can’t explain it – it doesn’t *matter*! Something *is* wrong, isn’t it?”
“She was screaming,” Sami interjected before Roman could protest. “It woke us up. But there’s no one in there with her now. She’s just…well, sort of frozen.”
John frowned. “What? What are you talking about?” He shook his head impatiently. “Never mind. Get out of my *way*, Roman!” He shoved the other man aside, wrenched the door open and burst inside the room. The sight before him momentarily froze him in his tracks.
“Doc,” he whispered cautiously as he approached the bed. “My God, Doc, what happened?” He knelt down next to her. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
Roman and Sami silently watched as Marlena slowly raised her head. She blinked rapidly, as though awakening from a trance, and her confused gaze focused on the concerned expression on John’s face. Her mouth fell open in surprise. “Jo-…*John*?”
He reached up to cup her cheek. “Yeah, it’s me, baby. I’m right here. So, why don’t you tell me what’s going on, huh?”
Her breath caught in her throat, and her eyes widened with shock. “John!” Without another word, she launched herself into his arms, hugging him so tightly that he nearly couldn’t breath – not that he minded.
“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmured, burying his face in her hair. “I’ve got you…”

***

Kristen chortled drunkenly as she lost her purchase on the couch cushion and slid slowly to the floor. “Whoops,” she muttered, waving the gun toward the front door. “I slipped.” For some reason, she found that hilarious, dissolving into another spate of helpless giggles. When they finally subsided, she fell back against the couch, hiccuping softly, and a tiny blinking light caught her eye from across the room. “It’s winking!” she declared, taking another swig of the vodka. “It’s winking at me…” Her smile faded into a perplexed frown. “But what *is* it?” She tried to rub her bleary eyes, but the gun got in the way. Muttering softly, she dropped the revolver on the couch and began to crawl toward the light, more alcohol sloshing from the bottle with each awkward crab-step. “Ohhh,” she breathed as she came near. “Anshwerin’ maschine…” Gulping for air, she slapped a hand toward the tabletop, and was rewarded by a flat mechanical voice that informed her, “You have *two* messages…”
Kristen frowned as the tape cued up. “Now who would be callin’ me?” she queried her vodka bottle. “Got no frien’s. Got no fam’ly. Got no baby.”
Presently the rewinding stopped and an officious-sounding woman informed her in snide tones of a budget meeting scheduled to review the Horton Center’s quarterly funding. “Who cares?” Kristen replied loftily, waving the bottle to emphasize her point. “Nob’dy cares, you bitsch.”
The next voice was younger, slightly bored-sounding, and Kristen scowled upon hearing it. “Uh, yes, hello, Kristen. This is, um, Carrie Brady, and I was calling to remind you that Mike’s moving into the loft tomorrow, so it’s your last chance to make sure John’s not packing up any of your stuff. If you want to come by in the morning, we’ll be getting the boxes ready for storage…Anyway, John wanted me to remind you. So, uh, maybe we’ll see you tomorrow…or not. Whatever. So, um, bye.”
The machine clicked off, and Kristen turned around awkwardly to slump against the table leg. She found herself staring directly at the gun resting on the center couch cushion. She glanced from it to the bottle of vodka, a small, bitter smile forming on her lips. “T’morrow, huh?” she muttered, taking another swig. “Tha’ gives me a *great*

idea.” The gun gleamed dully in the evening light, its reflection shining in her angry eyes. “I’ll defin’ly be there…coun’ on it.” ***

Sami and Roman stood next to the wall and silently watched the scene unfolding before them. Roman snuck a sideways glance at his daughter, a bit miffed by the small smile she couldn’t seem to hide at the sight of her mother and John in each other’s arms. His fingernails dug into his palms as he fought to keep control of the wild myriad of emotions careening through his chest. The fact that only John had been able to bring Marlena out of her fugue irritated him to no end, but he also felt relieved that something – *anything* – had ended her frightening catatonia.
Slowly John extricated himself from Marlena’s embrace, staring down at her face in concern. “Doc, honey, what is it?”
A little color had returned to her cheeks, twin bright patches of red
burning through the paleness. But her confusion hadn’t faded. She
reached up with trembling fingers to touch his face. “But-…but you’re
*dead*,” she whispered.
“What?!?”
She bit her lip uncertainly. “I-I *saw* you…I *did*! I-” She screwed her eyes shut, searching her memory. “I mean, I think I-…there was a newspaper. The headline…It said you were dead.”
John frowned and glanced around the room, but he couldn’t see a newspaper. He looked over at Sami and Roman; they shrugged simultaneously, nonplussed. “Doc, honey, there’s no paper here.”
She licked her lips nervously and glanced down at the wrinkled comforter twisting between her fingers. “No…not here.” Her gaze swept the room, passing over Roman and Sami as though they weren’t even there. “It wasn’t here.” Her gaze swung back to his worried face. “Stefano…” she breathed. “…*Stefano* showed it to me.” John reached out to grip her hands. “*What* did you say?” he asked anxiously.
Marlena blinked as she attempted to bring the picture into focus. “You died,” she repeated. “You died…in an *explosion*. You *died*, John. And I-…I *killed* you.” Her brow furrowed in confusion.
Abruptly he realized what she was talking about. “Oh, honey, no, that was a trick. That was just Stefano messing with your head, baby,

showing you that newspaper while you were in his cage. I didn’t die. You didn’t kill me.” The absurdity of that statement would have been amusing if she weren’t so obviously distressed.

In fact, her agitation seemed to be increasing again. “No, I *did*!” she retorted. “I *remember*, I *shot* you, John. You were standing in front of me, begging me to give you the gun in my hand, and I *shot* you!” Her voice rose to an hysterical pitch.
Oh, God, not the possession, John thought, trying to drag her into his arms. She fought him as tears streamed down her face. “I shot you, I shot you, I shot you…” she repeated over and over, in time to the pounding of her fists against his chest
Roman moved forward, intending to intervene, but Sami held him back. “Leave them alone,” she whispered fiercely. “Just leave ’em alone. You don’t have *any* idea what’s going on here.” “Do you?” he shot back, but he didn’t shake her hand away.
“Some,” she muttered, her lips tightening in concern. “She’s *remembering*, Dad. And *not* the good things.” His mouth fell open. “What?”
She shook her head and turned her attention back to her mother. John had managed to calm her slightly, and she was no longer hitting him. But her sobs had become increasingly hysterical. “I remember!” she insisted, hiccuping. “I remember it! You were begging me to give you the gun, but I wouldn’t listen. I *couldn’t* listen. I pulled the trigger! I *shot* you!”
Oh, how the hell am I supposed to explain this one to her? “No, honey,” he told her firmly. “You didn’t shoot me, all right? I promise you, you didn’t shoot me.”
She shoved away from his chest and glared up at him. “Don’t lie to me,” she ordered fiercely. “I remember it, okay? You were *four* feet away from me – I couldn’t have missed. And I remember the blood.” She closed her eyes as her face paled again. “I remember all the blood. *Gallons* of it.”
He grabbed her upper arms and shook her gently. “No! Do you hear me? *NO*! You didn’t shoot me, Doc. You could never hurt me, not in a million years. You-…you missed me, all right? You deliberately missed me. You would never do anything to hurt me.”
She stared up at him with wide, fearful eyes. “Missed you?

But-…*why*? I don’t understand – *How* could I hold a gun on you?” He smoothed her hair with his hands, cradling her cheeks until her trembling subsided slightly. “Listen to me, Doc. What you’re remembering…it happened when you were sick, okay? When you were…possessed.” His voice dropped on the final word. “It wasn’t you, not really – you weren’t in control of your actions. But the demon wanted you to destroy me, and you *fought* him. You fought him with all your strength, and we *beat* him. You didn’t hurt me, Doc, I swear you didn’t.” He pulled her against his chest. “Tell me what brought all this on, honey. Tell me what happened.”

Marlena hiccuped softly and gripped his shirt. “I…don’t know, really.” She closed her eyes, a few tears glimmering on the tips of her lashes. “I went to bed early because I knew I’d need my rest for tomorrow. I was upset.” Her grip tightened. “You *know* why…and then I guess I had a nightmare. But it wasn’t a nightmare, was it? It really happened, all of it.”
“Tell me,” he whispered, fighting to keep his voice even.
She bit her lip. “We – you and I – were in a room somewhere…dark, musty, *old*…and the children were there. Belle and Brady. And we were crying.” She looked up at him, her eyes brimming. “You were saying goodbye to them…”
He swallowed past the lump in his throat. “That was Aremid, Doc. The day the judge found me guilty of murdering Tony.” One of the worst days of my life…
She nodded hesitantly. “And the judge-” a soft, sobbing *hiccup* “h-he
sentenced you to die, didn’t he?”
He clenched his jaw, nodding.
She moaned and buried her face in his chest. “Oh *God*, John…”
“It’s okay, Doc,” he replied soothingly as he tried to dismiss his own painful memories. “It didn’t happen. It didn’t happen because *you* stopped it – you got the evidence we needed to free me.” He kissed the top of her head. “You risked *everything to free me. You saved my life – just in the nick of time.”
Roman and Sami watched the emotional byplay wordlessly. Sami fought down stirrings of guilt as she remembered what *she’d* been doing during that dark time – dedicating every waking moment of her life to winning Austin, for her and for her newborn son. She’d never

considered the anguish her mother and John were enduring upon the rendering of the judge’s verdict; when she’d finally found out the dire specifics, her only thought had been of how to use the situation to win Austin’s sympathy. She closed her eyes. How could I be so selfish? How could I not even *care*?

Roman’s thoughts were proceeding along similar lines. Stefano’s police file had enlightened him about the man’s plans for Marlena, and the numerous occasions upon which he’d tried to carry them out. He knew just how close Stefano had come to stealing away with Marlena while John had recovered from nearly being gassed to death. And he’d been nowhere nearby while they’d gone through it all – oblivious to their peril and completely out of touch. Somehow – what did Marlena call it? – ‘saving the world for the ISA’ seems a pale excuse for missing that… The depth of the torment they’d both endured was written clearly on their anguished faces. And where were you, man? Sulking in your beer halfway around the globe…
John rubbed his hands up and down Marlena’s back, oblivious to Sami and Roman’s inner turmoil. “Tell me what else happened, Doc. What else do you remember, honey?”
Marlena thought for a moment, then shook her head slightly. “Not that much. Just believing…just believing you were dead after Stefano showed me that newspaper. Stefano saying he was *sorry* for my pain.” She laughed bitterly. “As though I would believe that.” She looked up at John and traced his cheek lightly with her fingers. “I thought he’d killed you because he knew I’d never stop loving you,” she told him softly. “He was so deluded, John – he thought I would come to love him in time, even believing that he’d *killed* you!”
John nodded, shrugging ruefully. “Well, no one ever said Stefano was playing with a full deck, did they?”
Marlena rubbed the back of her neck, suddenly tired. “I guess not,” she agreed, running a hand through her hair to smooth the tangles. “So everything I saw – everything in my nightmare – that was all real? All of it?”
“Sounds like it,” he replied as she extricated herself from his embrace. “The judge’s verdict, the gun at the hospital…the cage…all those things really happened, even if not quite the way you recalled them.” The blood she remembered… he wondered briefly. What does that

mean? She chewed on her lower lip thoughtfully and crossed her arms over her chest. “Wow,” she mused, scooting toward the edge of the bed and swinging her feet to the floor, “I must really be afraid of living without you to come up with a doozy like that one.” She shook her head, her eyes on the floor. John stared after her, feeling no little regret that she’d left his embrace, and confused as to why she had done so.

Abruptly feeling intrusive, Roman cleared his throat. Marlena’s head snapped up, and her eyes widened upon seeing her ex-husband and her daughter standing in front of her. “Wha-…oh, my, how long have you two been standing there?”
Sami flicked a glance toward her father. “Ah…well, you woke us up. We were worried about you.”
Marlena looked from Sami to Roman. “I-…” Suddenly she realized where she was – and what she was wearing. She glanced down at her bare legs and quickly pulled the corner of the comforter over her lap. “I’m sorry. I certainly didn’t mean to scare anyone.”
“We know,” Sami rushed to reassure her. “It’s not like you can control nightmares, after all. I’m just glad you’re okay now.” She paused for a moment. “Um, does this mean…”
Her mother regarded her expectantly. “Does this mean what?”
Sami licked her lips. “Well, uh, does this mean you have your memory back?”
Marlena blinked, thunderstruck. John’s gaze narrowed on her staggered expression. “Doc?”
“I-” she swallowed, “I…don’t think so.” She closed her eyes, her brow furrowing. “It’s not-…it’s just those few images, over and over, that’s all. Nothing else…nothing even tangential to them, really.” She turned to look at John. “Like, I can remember the scene in the courtroom, but not finding the evidence to free you…or I can remember my finger pulling the trigger in the hospital room, but not what happened afterward…just *pieces*, really.” She closed her eyes again, pained. “*Horrible* pieces.” Her lip curled with sudden wry bitterness. “It figures, doesn’t it? That that’s all that would come back.”
Sami leaned forward to embrace her. “I’m sorry, Mom.” She let go of Marlena, managing a wan smile for her mother, before darting a swift, questioning glance toward John. “We’ll leave you guys alone now.

Just call out if you need anything.”

Marlena nodded, a bit dazed, and John gave Sami a grateful smile. Roman opened his mouth to protest, but Sami latched onto his arm and pulled him out into the hallway, shutting the door behind them. “Sami-” he began angrily.
“Downstairs,” she muttered grimly, tugging him toward the steps. Roman resisted for a moment, glancing back at the blank wood of the bedroom door, then finally sighed, turned and reluctantly followed his daughter.
Inside, John stared across the bed’s expanse at Marlena’s slumped shoulders and wondered what thoughts were running through her mind. “Doc?” he asked softly.
She turned slightly toward him, but kept her gaze locked on her hands, which gripped the comforter with white-knuckled fingers. “I loved you,” she murmured distantly.
His breath caught in his throat. Loved? Past tense? Oh, God, what does that mean? “What?” he ventured cautiously.
She finally turned her head to meet his gaze, and he could see the emotion in her eyes. “I loved you,” she repeated softly. “I mean, I believed it, when Laura told me. But after hearing everything that happened to us during the years I don’t remember, I had a hard time understanding why we weren’t together, if I still loved you so much. I supposed I doubted…just a little.” She cocked her head to the side and smiled a small, secret smile. “But I did. I loved you.” He nodded, suddenly unable to speak.
Her gaze lowered, contemplative once again. “I suppose I also never truly understood how much we went through during those years.” She buried her face in her hands. “God, John. It was so horrible.”
He scooted forward on the bed and reached out to tentatively touch her arm. “It was…some of it,” he admitted. “And some of it was beautiful. I wish you could remember that part, Doc. I wish you could remember the good things, too.”
Marlena lowered her hands and managed a watery chuckle. “Just my luck, huh?”
John wiped away a tear, caressing her cheek with a gentle thumb. “Just *our* luck,” he agreed quietly, gazing into her eyes. “C’mere, Doc.” He opened his arms, and after a brief, wordless hesitation, she

shifted into his embrace. He hugged her tightly, inhaling the sweet scent of her rumpled, shining hair. “I’ve missed this,” he whispered softly. “I’ve missed you.” Marlena stiffened in his arms.

After a moment, she mustered a quiet reply. “Have you?” she asked, her tone unreadable.
“Yes,” he answered simply, utterly sincere. “More than you could possibly know.”
Her sudden, violent attack caught him completely by surprise. She shoved against his chest, knocking him off balance and sending him sprawling backward toward the edge of the mattress. His arms pinwheeled wildly as he fought to regain his equilibrium, but he couldn’t quite manage the task, and he fell over the side of the bed, landing with a muffled thump against the carpet.
What the-? He shook his head dizzily as he rubbed his smarting backside. “Doc?” he mumbled, confused.
Her head appeared over the edge of the bed, scowling down at him with all the righteous indignation of a wounded Valkyrie. “How *dare* you say that to me?” she hissed, clenching her fists. John swallowed uneasily. Uh oh.
Chapter 81
John lay sprawled where he had fallen on the floor next to the bed, staring up at the enraged woman scowling down at him over the edge of the mattress. She pushed me off of the bed…*Marlena* pushed me off of the bed! “Doc?” he gulped. “What’s the matter?”
“What’s the matter?” Marlena repeated scornfully, almost laughing. “Are you serious? You really have no *idea*?”
“I-” he swallowed, “-I was just trying to help you, Marlena. I know how much that dream frightened you.”
“It wasn’t a *dream*,” she retorted. “It was *reality* – *our* reality. And I could have handled it just fine all on my own.”
He rolled onto his knees, angered by her quick dismissal of his efforts to help her. “Oh, really? It sure didn’t seem that way to me, Doc. Sami said you didn’t even know she and Roman came in the room after you started screaming, and you were still *way* out of it when I got here.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, and John tried to ignore the way her action made the football jersey she wore ride up on her creamy thighs. “I would have handled it,” she repeated darkly, unaware of the

turn of his thoughts. “I’m not a child to be spooked by monsters in the dark. The time is long past for those things to have the power to hurt me.”

John’s expression softened; he could see the aftermath of fear in her eyes, despite her protestations. She seemed uncharacteristically vulnerable sitting there in the middle of the bed, wearing only the oversize shirt, sans makeup, her hair rumpled from sleep. She looked exhausted. “The past can hurt,” he murmured after a moment, the pain of his own unwelcome recollections coloring his tone. “The past can hurt more than any monster.”
Sudden tears brimmed, and Marlena bit her lip and looked away. “I’m fine,” she muttered, blinking rapidly.
Hesitantly John rose to his feet. “You will be,” he agreed quietly. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, bar none, and I truly believe that there’s nothing you can’t handle.” Heartened by her slightly mollified expression, he inched toward the bed. “But, Doc…you don’t have to handle it alone if you don’t want to. I’m here, and I want to help.”
Her head snapped around, eyes blazing, and he took an involuntary step back, startled by her lightning-quick mood change. “Are you?” she enunciated furiously, each word dripping bitterness. “*Do* you?” John gulped. “Well, I-…uh, yes, I am…um, I mean, I do…”
“For how long?” she snapped. “Until I fail another one of your little *tests*? Until you decide that poor, deluded not-quite-Marlena doesn’t know what she wants or how she feels? No *thank* you, John. *That* I can do without.”
“I-” John’s mouth opened, then closed. “That’s not what I meant, Doc.”

“Maybe I’m saying I don’t care what you meant!” she snapped back. “Or maybe I’m saying *I’ll* decide what you meant.” She arched an eyebrow. “To…oh, I don’t know…*return* the favor, so to speak. Because you’ve done such a good job instructing *me* about what *I* think, and feel, and want.”
John’s cheeks flushed red with frustration. “I have *not* done that,” he replied a bit petulantly.
“*Haven’t* you?” He bit back an angry retort, closed his eyes, and counted to ten. “I haven’t *meant* to do that,” he finally amended, a

tacit admission to at least a part of her indictment.

Her lip quirked in bitter humor at his wry tone, but she nodded her head, accepting the distinction. “Fine.”
He swallowed, debating with himself over his next words, but finally decided he had to take the chance and make an offer. “And I honestly do want to help you deal with your memories.”
She stiffened again, and turned to step down off of the bed. “There’s no need for that,” she muttered, walking over to stare out of the window into the darkness. “No need at all.” “But, Doc-”

“Because I’ve made a decision,” she continued, interrupting him. “I told Laura today that I didn’t see any reason for me to continue our sessions…that I no longer had any desire to use therapy to recover my lost memories.” She threw a sardonic glance over her shoulder. “And, believe me, what happened here tonight has done nothing to change my mind on the subject.”
He cocked his head, unsure exactly what reply she expected – or wanted. “Okay,” he eventually ventured cautiously.
She frowned. “‘Okay’? What does that mean, ‘okay’?” Her eyes glinted dangerously. “Are you giving me *permission*?”
He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “No, no, of course not. Okay just means…it just means okay. Okay, I understand. Okay, I get it. You don’t want to try to remember anymore, okay.”
“Are you *patronizing* me?” she retorted scathingly, stalking toward him with her hands fisted at her sides. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, pinning him with a glare.
“No!” he repeated, a bit desperately. “No, I just…I just mean, it’s *your* decision, Doc!”
“Gee, *thanks*.” Marlena studied him silently for a moment, before her expression dissolved into a slow, bitter smile. “Oh, *I* get it now. *I* understand.”
Her tone made him distinctly nervous. “What do you mean?”
She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled at him. “For *weeks* you’ve been saying that I had to deal with the past before you could even consider our building a future together. But now that you’ve decided that we *have* no future, it doesn’t matter anymore, right? Presto, all of a sudden, the fact that I’m missing ten years of my life is

no big deal to you. So much for your argument that you were looking out for *my* best interests, hmm?”

His face flushed again. “NO! I *was* looking out for y-…I mean, that’s what I thought I was…” He closed his eyes and raked a hand through his hair, frustrated by his inability to make himself clear. Hedging your bets isn’t gonna do it this time, Black, he told himself. If you want to have a chance here, it’s time to grovel… He took a deep breath and plunged onward. “Look, Doc, you’re right, okay? You’re right about all of it. I was too much of a coward to take a chance on a future together, so I did everything I could to keep from getting hurt. I pushed you away because I was afraid. It wasn’t fair of me to demand that you live here with Roman, and it wasn’t fair of me to blow up at you after you only did, essentially, what I asked you to do.” His words came out in a breathless rush, and he exhaled heavily at the end, oddly relieved to have given voice to his regrets.
Marlena raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “And?” she drawled.
And? “Um, and I, uh…I should have trusted you when you said you
loved me…I shouldn’t have tried to instruct you about how you ‘really’
felt, or implied that your feelings were somehow illegitimate so long as
you couldn’t remember the past.”
She stared at him, hard. “And?”
Oh, God, what else? He felt as though the course of his entire future depended upon what he said during the next few moments, but he had no idea what it was that she wanted to hear from him. “And…um, I’m sorry?” She frowned at his tentative tone, and he rushed to correct her false impression. “And I’m sorry,” he repeated firmly, injecting all the sincerity he could muster into his tone. “So incredibly sorry, Doc. Please, if you can’t believe anything else I’ve told you, you have to believe that. *Please*.”
Her expression softened, just for a moment. She swallowed, averting her gaze from his face, and whispered, “And?” He could hear the undercurrent of sorrow in her voice, and his heart constricted again at the reminder of what he’d put her through…but he had already apologized. What else can I do? What else is there to say? He studied her beloved face silently for a moment, and then the answer came to him.
John inhaled nervously, waiting for her to raise her gaze to meet his.

She squared her shoulders and turned to face him, outwardly calm and contained once again, her expression shuttered, her manner guarded. Despite the fact that he had been the one to inspire her recalcitrant defensiveness, he felt an uprush of pride at this characteristic display of inner strength. 100% Pure Unadulterated Dr. Marlena Evans…accept no substitutes.

She tilted her chin up and regarded him impassively. “And?”
John stepped forward until he was mere inches away from her. She stiffened at his nearness, but did not retreat from the implied challenge of his approach. He smiled faintly and reached up to trace her jawline with one finger. She refused to flinch. “And…” he breathed softly, tilting his head until he was speaking the words into her right ear, his breath whispering hot against her cheek. The touch of his fingers burned against her sensitive skin, but it was an exhilarating fire. She could feel the blood rushing through her veins, humming a siren’s song, urging her to give in to him. She closed her eyes, willing her traitorous body to submit to her mind’s protective decision.
“And…” he repeated, nearly losing track of his own train of thought, so lost was he in the beguiling scent of her hair. But it wasn’t as though his next declaration required deliberation, or even a single second thought. It was as much a part of him as his arm, or his leg…or his heart. He brought his other hand up to cradle her cheek in his palm, patiently waiting for her to open her eyes. Slowly her lashes fluttered upward, and she gazed at him through shimmering hazel orbs, residual anger and hurt warring with desire behind her eyes. He smiled tenderly down at her, his heart overflowing with all the adoration in the world. “And…I love you, Marlena Evans,” he declared softly. “Always and forever. From the first moments of our meeting…until the end of time.”
He leaned down to capture her lips with his, praying with all his soul that she might let him. For a few brief, endless moments, Marlena’s lips softened under John’s tender assault, parting to allow him access to her honeyed mouth. That slight offering was like manna to a starving man, and he deepened the kiss, his tongue sweeping her mouth voraciously as his arms tightened around her, hauling her body flush against his. She pulled closer to him, rubbing against his chest as he interposed his left leg between hers, drawing his thigh up

against her. He moaned low in his throat, sure that he had found the gates to paradise.

Abruptly she stiffened in his arms, shoving away from him with all her strength. “Stop!” she cried, stumbling backward to wipe her lips with the palm of her hand. “Just stop it!”
Breathing heavily, John reflexively reached out a hand to her. “Doc-” “Do you think that’s all it takes?” she burst out furiously. “Do you think that *weeks* of utter hell can be swept away by one ‘I’m sorry’?!?” She swiped impatiently at her eyes, angry at herself for crying at that moment, and angry that her body had yet to stop reacting to his nearness. It took every ounce of willpower she had to keep from leaping back into his arms. “Of all the *nerve*…” “Doc-” he began again, his tone pleading. “I-”
“You *hurt* me!” she retorted, her voice breaking on the words. “I *trusted* you!”
There was no reply he could make to that impassioned declaration – no defense that seemed adequate. He sighed and dropped his arm as his hope waned. “I know,” he whispered regretfully. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s not enough,” she stated fiercely. “It’s not enough that you’re sorry. It’s just not enough.”
Her tone made his stomach roil with dread. She sounded so depressingly certain. “All right,” he finally replied. “Just tell me, Doc. Tell me what I have to do. I’ll do anything.”
She pressed her lips together and regarded him warily. He tired to keep his expression as open and honest as possible. Anything you want, his eyes told her.
“What changed?” she finally asked.
He frowned. “What?”
She cocked her head to the side. “What changed? What happened to bring about this sudden change in perspective? Wasn’t it just yesterday that you were ready to throw in the towel? Don’t tell me one little nightmare changed your mind!” Her voice dripped sarcasm, but he could tell that she honestly wanted an answer.
John looked away toward the window as he formulated his reply. The sight of her flushed and disheveled, wearing only the football jersey and a pair of fantastic legs, did very little to bolster his powers of concentration. “I don’t-…It wasn’t *one* thing, really.” He closed his

eyes, frowning. “I guess I had believed that ending things would stop the pain, prevent me from feeling…what I felt the last time, when I lost you to Roman.” He shrugged ruefully and rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “I should have known that it wouldn’t work. I mean, living life without you is living life without you, but *this* time I had the added bonus of knowing that all of it was my own damn fault!” He swung around to face her, grimacing. “And then there was my little discussion with Roman today…”

Marlena raised an ironic eyebrow. “You spoke to Roman? Well, that explains his little ‘mood’ earlier, I suppose.” “You two had a bit of a run-in, did you?”
She tilted her head thoughtfully. “More he and Don, I would say. But he was certainly spoiling for *something*. Why? What happened?”
He sucked in his cheeks. “Well, he came over to the house earlier, all set to ream me out for allowing Sami to move in with me.” He cut himself off, wincing a bit. “You did *know* about that, right? You understand why I agreed to it?”
She nodded shortly. “Yes, I understand…” her voice sharpened, “…but I don’t necessarily like it, nor believe that it’s best for her. I think you should have at least called me to discuss it.”
He grimaced. “Yeah, I know. But she was so worried about whether or not I would want her – I couldn’t let her believe that I was anything but thrilled to have them, Doc. You should have seen the look on her face. And I did *try* to call you.”
She nodded, accepting the caveat. “Yes, I know. I got the messages.”
She shrugged. “I suppose it’s water under the bridge now.”
John rolled his eyes, remembering Roman’s furious face. “To *you*, maybe.”
Marlena almost smiled. “I take it that wasn’t Roman’s attitude?”
“You could say that.” He raked an impatient hand through his hair. “You could also say that he’s an arrogant, controlling bastard with delusions of godhood.”
This time she couldn’t contain her smile. “You might, at that,” she agreed. “But did you say it to *him*, that’s the question.”
John turned to face her, a rueful grin appearing on his lips in response to her amused expression. “Something like that,” he admitted, not a bit shamefully. “*That*, and a lot of other things, not a one of them

complimentary. And I meant every single one.” His smile widened. “And what’s more, I’m not sorry, either.”

Marlena’s brow furrowed as she studied his face. “Why should you be? And why does the fact that you’re not sorry make you so happy?” John chewed on his lower lip as he attempted to find the right words to answer her question. “I guess it’s because I’ve never done that before,” he finally confessed softly. “Never allowed myself to give free reign to all the things that Roman makes me feel.” He closed his eyes. “All the ugly, awful, jealous things that I didn’t want to admit to, because I thought they made me…I thought they made me less than the person I wanted to believe I was.” He rubbed his palms against his thighs. “Because I thought they made me less than Roman Brady.” Marlena compressed her lips, reluctantly touched by the raw vulnerability of his admission. “John-” she began, but was arrested by the rueful grin that lit his face when she spoke.
“John,” he murmured. “John Black. Do you know how long it took me to get used to that?” he asked softly, his eyes still closed, lashes dark against his cheek. “People would call me ‘John’, and I’d look around to try and find whoever it was they were talking to. It was months before I could think of myself as ‘John Black’, even though it had been my identity once before.” He finally opened his eyes to look at her, and the pain in their crystal depths nearly stopped her breath. “I *loved* being Roman Brady,” he admitted brokenly, in the quiet tones of a confession. “I loved being a father, a son, a brother…” he swallowed, not looking at her, “…a husband. I *loved* my life.” He blinked back the tears that threatened. “And then one day, *poof*” he snapped his fingers, “all of it was gone. And no one thought I had a right to be angry.” He shook his head. “Not even me. I was supposed to be *sorry*, to somehow feel responsible for the fact that I was imprisoned and *brainwashed* by amadman.” Belated anger burned his cheeks. “As though it were *my* fault that Stefano DiMera hated the Bradys. I lost my *identity* as part of his little revenge plan, and I was supposed to *apologize* for it? And to walk away, to pretend that the last eight years – the *only* eight years of my life that I could remember – had never happened at all? To act like I’d never loved Carrie, and Sami, and Eric…and *you*?” His voice broke on the last word, and he turned away from her. “No *way*, Doc!”

“We never should have expected you to do that,” she agreed quietly, for once including her present self among the guilty. John’s shoulders slumped at her admission, drained of energy by the painful memories. “Roman *still* feels that way,” he muttered darkly. “He still expects me to apologize for *everything*…for my very existence, for the fact that Sami and Carrie still look to me for comfort and advice, even in the smallest of ways. And today I just got sick of his whining, and I told him *exactly* what I thought of him. I let him have it with both barrels.” “And he saw the wisdom of your words,” Marlena interjected drolly, “and admitted the error of his ways, right?” Her smile invited him to share her ironic bemusement.

John uttered a sharp bark of laughter. “Not exactly. But then, I didn’t say anything I said for his enlightenment, so it doesn’t really matter that he didn’t. For once, I just said exactly what I felt, simply because I felt it.” He looked over at her, rueful amusement lighting his eyes. “It was like…oh, I don’t know, like ripping away a bandage that I’d used to bind my wounds all those years ago – and do you know what I discovered?”
Marlena shook her head.
His smile widened. “I discovered that all the wounds had healed long ago. I can say it now, Doc, without feeling any pain – I am *not* Roman Brady. And what’s more – I don’t *want* to be.” He took a step toward her. “And what’s more than *that*…” his voice lowered to a tone of intimate confession, “…I don’t even *like* him.” Her lips twitched with amusement. “Really.”
He grinned down at her, bringing one hand up to skim her arm lightly. “Really. I don’t like him. And I’m a nice guy, you know – kind, understanding, forgiving to a fault. It takes a lot to make me not like someone, but he’s managed it. He’s pompous, overbearing, rude, annoying as *hell*…”
Marlena stifled a laugh. “Anything else?”
John rolled his eyes. “Oh, I could go on all day. But the point is, if *I* don’t like him, why should *you*? He’s even more obnoxious to you than he is to me.” They shared a smile. “And, while we’re on the subject, about *me*…”
She studied the fingers caressing her arm, as though debating whether or not to let the contact to continue…but she didn’t pull away.

“What about you?” she murmured, absorbed in the play of his callused thumb across her pale wrist.

He brought his left hand up to stroke her other arm. “Well, he whispered, his breath blowing softly into her hair, “when I’m not acting all irrational and nutso-crazy, I’m not such a bad catch. I mean, I’m tall, I’ve got all my hair – even if there *is* a little gray in it nowadays…I’m reasonably well-off,” he chuckled, “you wouldn’t *starve* with me, anyway.” Marlena stifled a snort of laughter, and he took heart from the happy sound. “I got a couple of great kids, a *huge* new house just waiting for someone to move into, and, well-” he shrugged, “-I’ve never been accused of breaking mirrors with this mug of mine. So I ask you, what’s not to love?”
She looked up at him, her hazel eyes searching the depths of his blue ones. Her lips parted slightly, as though she were about to reply, but she didn’t speak, because he had reached up to cover them with his index finger. “I know I hurt you,” he continued quietly, “and I regret it more than I can say. And maybe I don’t deserve another chance, but I’m asking you to give me one anyway. I’m asking you give it one more try, take one more risk…and I promise you that you won’t regret it. I promise not to let you down again. And I’ll do anything you want to make it up to you.” He allowed his finger to trail over her cheek. “I’ll even eat your cooking…*oof*!” He grabbed his stomach where she’d playfully jabbed her elbow, then reached out to grip her upper arms, his demeanor suddenly turning serious again. “I love you, Doc. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. Please, *please* give me…give *us* just one more chance. I’ll do whatever it takes, I swear to you.”
She gazed up at him, her expression unreadable. “Whatever it takes, hmmm?” He nodded. She tilted her head thoughtfully. “All right…then sit down!” It came out as more of an order than a request.
His eyebrows flew up in surprise. That’s it? “Um…all right.” He looked around for the chair to the vanity table, all the while wondering what exactly she was up to.
“No,” she said. “Sit down on the bed.”
His gaze narrowed, but he did as he was bid and perched on the edge of the mattress. He looked up and regarded her expectantly. “Now what?”

“Take off your shoes.”

? “Oooh-kay,” John agreed slowly, puzzled but willing to comply. He reached down and pulled off his left boot, removing the sock along with it. “Just for your information, though, you bought these boots for me years ago as a birthday present, and I’m kind of attached to them. So if you’re looking for something to deface in some sort of secret female ritual, I think I left a pair of old sneakers in the closet.”
Marlena kicked the boots away. “That’s not quite what I had in mind,” she admitted, standing in front of him in the football jersey, arms akimbo. He thought again that she looked utterly adorable…and sexy as hell. Not the right time, man – you’re groveling, remember? He tried to wrench his attention back to the matter at hand, just in time to hear her say, “Now the pants.”
He choked and nearly swallowed his tongue. “Wha-…*what*?”
She frowned at him. “Now the pants, I said.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m feeling at a decided disadvantage here, you know, standing here in my ersatz ‘nightgown’,” she lectured him. “I want us to be on equal footing, so take off the pants, all right?”
She sounded peeved, and he cursed himself silently. Stop arguing and do what she says, Black. “All right, I’m sorry.” He quickly undid the fly to his jeans. She obliged him by pulling them off and depositing them on the floor next to the bed. He leaned back against the rumpled comforter, propped up on his elbows, clad only in his boxers and t-shirt. “Now what?”
She pushed his shoulders lightly with one hand. “Move back,” she ordered, pulling one knee up onto the bed.
“All right,” he agreed again, sliding backward until he was half-sitting, half-lying in the middle of the king-sized mattress. She climbed up the rest of the way and knelt next to him. Her nearness was almost intoxicating; he had to shake his head to clear it of the memory of a few of his more fevered fantasies.
He licked his lips and swallowed past a suddenly dry throat. “Now what?” he asked again.
She eyed him critically, her gaze sweeping his supine figure. “You’re still overdressed,” she muttered under her breath. “It’s not fair.” Her attention reverted to his face. “Take the boxers off, too,” she commanded in a clipped tone.

His mouth gaped in surprise at her new request. There was no way she could have possibly missed his body’s response to her nearness, and now she wanted him to… Wait a minute, he thought suddenly, if she wants our situations to be equal, and that means I have to take off my boxers… Heat suffused his face as he glanced at the trailing hem of the football jersey. “Are you saying you aren’t wear-” He cut himself off as he noticed her lips twitch with quickly stifled amusement. She’s *playing* with me, he realized with a mixture of amusement and chagrin. Well, Doc, I can play, too. He wiped his face clean of all expression. “Whatever you say, Doc,” he agreed, reaching for the waistband of his underwear.

Her covert smile became more overt. “Let me help you with that,” she offered a bit breathlessly, and, together, they made quick work of the task. His t-shirt was oversized, but not *that* oversized, and it did little to hide the evidence of his desire for her. Unconsciously, she licked her lips, and John groaned, reaching for her.
“No!” she commanded sharply, pulling away, and he stopped,
surprised by her tone.
“Doc?”
“Hands over your head,” she ordered, raising an eyebrow when he didn’t move immediately to comply. “*Now*, John. Or are you welshing on our deal?”
He swallowed, uncertain of her mood. There was a definite playfulness in her manner, but she seemed somehow serious as well. Is this a test of some sort? A test of the trust between us? Well, I said I wouldn’t let you down again, Doc, and I meant it. Without another word, he raised his hands over his head, gripping two of the spokes of the wooden headboard with his fingers.
Her eyes widened appreciably as the t-shirt rode up on his chest. She licked her lips again and wrenched her gaze upward to his face. “I’m in charge,” she whispered. “I call the shots. It’s my *turn*, after all…isn’t it, John?”
Oh, I’m really in for it now. “Of course,” he agreed, recognizing his own utter defeat in her determined expression. Unless he missed his guess, she was going to make this *very* difficult for him…and take all the pain of the past few weeks out on his poor hide. But, maybe, if he were very, *very* lucky… “Whatever you want, Doc.”

She smiled in satisfaction. “That’s what I like to hear. Now, lie back.” He did as she asked, opening his mouth to reply, but she made a shushing motion with her hand. “And don’t talk unless I give you permission.” Wordlessly, he nodded.

She trailed her fingers over his chest, enjoying the way the muscles bunched and jumped under her delicate touch. His body was singing in response to her nearness, both in small, and decidedly more *obvious* ways. Her fingers trailed downward to the edge of the shirt, which rested over his flat, taut belly. John bit back a frustrated moan, and Marlena frowned, her lower lip distending into a slight, sexy pout. “I think this is in the way, don’t you?” Smiling, she gripped the edge of the shirt with both hands and yanked it upward, over his face and shoulders until it lay stretched between his upper arms, effectively tying them back over his head. “Better,” she murmured happily, admiring her handiwork.
John watched her through half-lidded eyes, his breathing accelerating with the strength of his desire. She ran her hands over his chest, lavishing her attention, and then her tongue, over each square inch of skin, but always stopping short of his most sensitive places in her downward quest. John felt as though he’d died and gone to heaven – or utter, sheerest hell. She’s killing me! He made a strangled sound deep in his throat.
Marlena glanced up at him and smiled. “You like that?” she asked. He nodded, his eyes conveying all the longing she would not permit him to voice. She sat back on her heels and studied him for a moment. “Yes? Well, what about this?” In one smooth motion she divested herself of the football jersey, flinging it to the floor with a careless toss of her fingers.
His breath stopped. She had, indeed, been wearing *nothing* but the jersey. His gaze devoured her beloved figure, all the velvet curves, smooth hollows – all the secret places it had taken hours of intensive study to properly discover and map. Her beauty had always spoken to him on a deep, elemental level, entwining with the perfection of her soul to present a nearly irresistible lure that drew him like a siren’s song.
His fingers tightened on the headboard, white-knuckled with the effort it took to keep from touching her. As she waited silently while he

fought a battle with himself, she wondered if his word would keep him from her, even when she presented, she knew, what was an almost irresistible temptation to him. Her body had always been his weakness…but she *needed* to know if she could believe his vow, and this was the only way she knew to put his word to the test. And besides…

She was having *fun*!
John closed his eyes and inhaled deeply…once… twice… three times. His fingers relaxed on the headboard, and he opened his eyes to regard her ruefully, the message in his expression clear. You don’t play fair, Doc. She nodded, acknowledging the hit.
Slowly, carefully, Marlena leaned over his body to place a light kiss on his lips, her tongue darting out to trace them with delicate precision. He moaned as his head tilted upward, straining to deepen the contact, to mate his tongue with hers the way he wanted to entangle their bodies. Her breasts brushed against his chest, sending shivering sparks throughout his body. Obligingly, Marlena moved closer, bracing one hand on each side of his head to give her better access to his lips. She lifted one shapely leg to raise over his belly, landing on her knee on the other side. John moaned again, this time in frustration that the lush, gloriously naked body hovering over his was still somehow maddeningly out of reach. The only place their bodies touched was the point at which their lips met.
And then that contact ceased, too, as Marlena pulled away to gaze down at him, her expression serious. “This is what you did to me,” she whispered in a damning tone. “You gave me paradise, you showed me everything I could ever want in this life…and then you took it away.” She blinked back tears, her gaze burning into him. “You know how much it hurts, now, don’t you?”
He nodded sadly, finally understanding the purpose of her game.
“I felt as though I were reaching for you,” she continued, “but you were always just outside of my grasp. I felt as though you’d looked at me, studied me in every detail, touched my soul with your hands…and then decided I wasn’t what you wanted…”
Oh, *no*, Doc! A regretful tear escaped to streak down John’s cheek, and he tried to convey to her the catastrophic error of that conclusion with his sorrow-filled eyes.

She closed her own eyes and shook her head. “I wanted to punish you,” she whispered. “To make you feel the way I felt. To try to convey to you at least *some* of what you put me through.” She opened her eyes and gazed ruefully down at him. “But I can’t do it – I can’t hurt you like that. Because hurting you hurts *me*, and, frankly, I think I’ve been through enough. So I won’t leave you now, the way you left me…even if you *do* deserve it.”

Relief flooded through his body as she leaned down to kiss him once more. And then she straightened briefly, to slowly bring her body down on top of his, until she was almost laying on his stomach, her legs splayed out on either side. Her breasts were hot velvet against his chest and her lips met his again in a blatant, carnal french kiss. He returned the kiss, his hips thrusting upward toward her moist heat. But he still didn’t release his grip on the headboard and bring his arms down, in spite of how badly his fingers ached to touch her. Not yet…not until she says…or acts…
Her hands slid over his shoulders and up the muscled length of his arms, shoving the t-shirt upward. She reached for his wrists, her fingers tugging them downward. Slowly his fingers peeled away from the headboard, and the t-shirt fell away, immediately forgotten. He allowed her to pull his arms down. Their hands met and clasped, their fingers entwining together, and Marlena used the resulting leverage to push back from him, positioning her body above his waist. Her hazel eyes met his.
“No more punishment,” she vowed in a low, aching voice. “No more regrets, no more guilt, no more pain…just love.” She bit her lower lip and regarded him quietly. “All right?” Swallowing, John nodded.

“Say it,” she commanded in an aching tone. “I need to hear you say it.”
His fingers tightened on hers, the promise in his words implicit in their warm embrace. “No more pain,” he agreed, his voice rough with passion. “No more stupid, bonehead moves. No more keeping quiet, hiding behind masks…no more being alone.” Another tear trailed down his cheek, but this time, it was a tear of happiness. “Just you and me, together. Just love.”
Smiling through her own tears, Marlena nodded her agreement,

before lowering herself down onto him. Their sighs of completion

chimed in unison, and then the tides of passion swept them away, and
there was no more talk of pain, of guilt, or of the past…there was no
more talk at all.
Chapter 82
Roman Brady awakened to a ringing phone and the sharp pain of a massive crick in his neck. The ringing stopped abruptly, and he rubbed the offended area blearily as his mind tried to process the facts of his surroundings. Why am I sleeping in a chair? he wondered fuzzily. He was slumped awkwardly in the recliner, which rested catty-corner to the sofa, and the rumpled blankets and pillow on his customary ‘bed’ gave him pause for a moment. Then the memories returned.
Oh, yeah. Sami. His youngest daughter had insisted upon remaining downstairs with him once they’d left John and Marlena alone in the master bedroom following Marlena’s nightmare the previous evening. After rebuffing his repeated attempts to go back up to check on Marlena, Sami had settled on the couch and eyed him with baleful, steely determination as she resolutely stifled her yawns. She had clearly entertained no notion of preceding him to sleep, and he’d eventually resigned himself to waiting for her to nod off before venturing up the steps.
Joke’s on me, I guess, he thought tiredly. She’d obviously managed to outlast him, and, to add insult to injury, she’d awakened before him as well, long enough ago to have nearly finished brewing a pot of delicious coffee, if his nose were any judge. She must have answered the phone in the kitchen, as well. Roman shook his head and leaned back against the cushion. God, what a mess we’ve made of things. The abject fright on Marlena’s face stemming from her nightmare had given him a few bad moments of slumber himself. He’d spent half the night battling nebulous evil forces as his dream wife/ex-wife had screamed for help from unknown places. But dreamRoman had never quite managed to reach her, and Roman knew without a doubt that the ineffective man of his sleeping mind was simply a reflection of the man he’d become in waking life these past few years.
And he also knew that he was no longer the one she looked to for help, or for comfort…or for anything at all.

He couldn’t help the drift of his thoughts as he once again began to speculate upon just what exactly had transpired between John and Marlena after he and Sami had gone down the stairs. Maybe she just went back to sleep, he told himself, followed by the equivalent of a derisive mental snort. Yeah, right.

His depressed reverie was broken by the sound of the kitchen door opening. He looked up to see his youngest daughter standing in the doorway, a not-entirely-unsympathetic expression on her face and a mug of coffee in her hand. “Coffee, Dad?”
A part of him wanted to reject her gift, to reject her as completely as she had rejected him ever since he had returned to Salem…but another part of him *really* wanted that coffee. And he couldn’t bring himself to refuse the one act of kindness she’d offered him in months. “Thanks,” he said as he accepted the mug. His voice was rough with sleep and melancholy, and he couldn’t resist adding a peevish, “This is certainly a switch.”
Sami didn’t pretend not to know what he was talking about. “Don’t read too much into it,” she replied sardonically. “I just-” she looked away and shook her head, “I just know it sucks to be kicked when you’re down, you know?” Her voice and expression softened as she spoke.
Strangely, her belated sympathy only angered him further – after all, if
she hadn’t interfered the previous evening, then maybe…Unintentionally, he voiced his thoughts aloud. “I might not *be* down, if-”
“If I hadn’t kept you from going back up to Mom last night?” Sami finished sarcastically. “Oh, come on, Dad, if you had *really* wanted to go back up there, nothing *I* could have done would have stopped you. *I* think you knew what you’d find if you opened that door, and you just didn’t want to face it.”
Roman’s face reddened at her veiled intimation of cowardice. “That’s *not* true, Sami.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t it?”
He averted his gaze into his coffee cup. “No, it isn’t. And I really resent your attitude, Samantha. I’m your father, for God’s sake.”
“And *she’s* my mother,” Sami shot back. “And *he’s* the man who raised me! But that isn’t the point, Daddy. This is what they want, don’t

you see that? She *loves* him, and he loves her, and they want more than anything to be together.” Exasperation made her voice rise. “Didn’t you *see* her last night? Didn’t you hear what she said? They’ve been through *hell* together these past few years, and they deserve some happiness!”

“And *I* don’t?” Roman retorted, stung by her impassioned speech.
“I didn’t *say* that,” Sami replied, exasperated again. “But tell me something, Daddy – why is *your* happiness more important than theirs? Why should what *you* want matter more?” She paused, took a deep breath, and began again in a calmer tone. “Look, Dad, there’s no way to come out of this with everyone happy, you know? If you and Mom were together, John and the kids would be devasTated. And if Mom’s with John then you and…oh, I don’t know, *Grandpa*, I suppose – would be unhappy. But if you take it right down to just the three of you, the best anyone can hope for is two out of three, right? Because you and John both love her. And that means that how Mom feels is the most important thing.” She nodded as if to punctuate the conclusion reached by her ineffable chain of logic. “And Mom loves John.”
“Your *mother*,” Roman emphasized, “is suffering from severe amnesia.”
“So?” Sami shot back belligerently. “That doesn’t mean she’s stupid, Daddy. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how she feels, or what she wants. Hell, John doesn’t remember most of his *life*, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t got a right to live it, does it?”
Roman glared at her. “It’s not the same situation at all, Sami.” Sighing, Sami rolled her eyes at the ceiling and gave up. “Fine. Whatever. I really don’t think it matters much now, anyway. Do you?” Roman was saved from having to answer by the soft tread of footsteps on the stairs. He looked up to see Marlena making her unsteady way down the steps, clad only in a football jersey, her hair a mass of disheveled waves and curls. Her eyes were half-closed, and her cheeks were red with what Roman knew from long experience was stubble burn. He fought to keep his expression neutral, to prevent her from knowing how much the sight of her in that state hurt him, but she didn’t even seem to notice his presence.
She shuffled across the carpet toward the kitchen, blinking fuzzily in

the morning light. “Coffee, Mom?” Sami asked, leaning over the back of the couch and holding out her mug as she bit back a smile at her mother’s disheveled appearance.

Marlena murmured something that sounded like “Thanooswrt,” and might possibly have been “Thank you, sweetheart,” as she reached for the cup of coffee. She cradled it between her fingers and inhaled the bracing aroma, a blissful expression crossing her face. “Long night?” Sami asked, stifling a giggle.
“Mmrmph.”
A heavier tread of footfalls sounded on the stairs. Marlena was too absorbed in caffeine nirvana to look up, but Roman and Sami both turned toward the sound. John stumbled down the steps, wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants, his hair sticking up in several different gravity-defying directions. The day’s growth of beard on his face indicated the source of Marlena’s red cheeks, and the remnants of crimson scratches across his chest evidenced what she’d done to him in return.
Roman felt the uprush of bile in the back of his throat, and he swallowed convulsively, determined not to humiliate himself in front of them, no matter how oblivious they seemed to be to his presence…and his pain. John made a beeline for Marlena – or more truthfully, the cup of coffee in her hands. With a murmur of regret she surrendered it to him, and he took a long sip, sighing with pleasure as the caffeine hit his system. They stood together in silence for a few moments, trading the coffee cup between them.
“Carrie called,” Sami finally informed them, once the entertainment value of seeing them so incredibly out of it wore off a little. “She and Mike are at the loft, getting ready to move him in – she said you knew they would be there, John?” He nodded absently. “Anyway, Laura and Maggie dropped by there on their way to meet you, Mom, and they offered to bring the kids over to save Carrie the trip. They should be here soon.”
Marlena blinked owlishly as she attempted to process her daughter’s statement. “Shower,” she muttered slowly, her brow furrowing.
Sami laughed – she couldn’t help it, she’d rarely ever seen her mother so amusingly disoriented. “What?”
“We need a shower,” Marlena replied blankly, reaching up to grasp

John’s muscled shoulder. He made a moan of protest as she pried the mug from his fingers with her other hand and handed it to Sami. “Doc-”

“*Shower*!” Marlena repeated more firmly as she dragged him toward the stairs. With one last longing glance at the mug, he turned and followed her up the steps.
Sami watched them go, allowing her father a few seconds of privacy to deal with the morning’s revelations. They may not have said so in words…but it couldn’t be more obvious that they’re back together. She closed her eyes, allowing a moment of sympathy for her father to interrupt her pleasure at seeing her mother and John’s obvious – if slightly incoherent – happiness. I know what it feels like to watch the person you love be in love with someone else.
She finally turned to look at him, her expression solemn. She could see he was trying to school his features into a mask of neutrality, but the suspicious brightness of his eyes spoiled the effect. She took a deep breath, feeling a pang of unwelcome identification with him. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”
His cheeks burned as he stared down into his coffee cup. My daughter feels *sorry* for me – that’s *IT*!! “I’m out of coffee,” he muttered without looking up, making a beeline for the kitchen. She pondered the door silently as it swung shut.
***
Sami was still sitting alone in the living room when the doorbell rang. Getting up to open the door, she was unsurprised to find Laura and Maggie stationed on the doorstep, Brady and Belle and two small suitcases standing between them. “Come in,” she said, smiling, as she reached down to lift Belle into a hug. “Hey, sweetiepie.”
“Good morning, Sami. You certainly look happy today. Will you be helping us with the-” Laura glanced down at Brady, “-M-O-V-E?”
Sami settled Belle onto her hip as they entered the living room. “Well, I would, but, actually…I think there’s probably been a change in plans about that.”
“Yes,” Marlena confirmed breezily as she sailed down the staircase and into the room. Her hair was swept up in a loose french braid, and she wore a comfortable pair of denim overalls over a bright white t-shirt. She offered each of her friends a dazzling smile and a

welcoming embrace. “There has *definitely* been a *major* change in plans.”

“Marlena?” Laura asked with cautious optimism, raising an eyebrow at her beaming friend. “What’s going on?”
John chose that moment to come thumping down the stairs, clad in boots, faded jeans and a blue t-shirt. “Daddy!” Belle and Brady cried in unison. Belle scrambled down Sami’s leg as Brady launched himself at his father.
“Hey, you two,” John replied, grinning from ear to ear. “Hi, Laura, Maggie. So…how are my munchkins this morning?” With the ease of long practice he flipped Brady up onto his shoulders and cradled Belle against his chest.
“We’re fine, Daddy,” Brady exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his father’s head and mussing his still-damp hair. “We didn’t know you were gonna be here!”
“Well, it was kind of a surprise,” John replied. He smoothed his daughter’s blonde locks and caressed her cheek. “What about you, princess – were you surprised?” Belle nodded happily and twined her arms around John’s neck.
“Missed you, Daddy,” she whispered against his shoulder.
He hugged her a little more tightly. “I missed you, too, baby girl.”
“We both did,” Marlena confirmed, giving each of them a kiss. “You did have fun staying over at your sister’s house, though, didn’t you? I know how excited she was to have you.”
“Uh-huh,” Brady replied, reaching out for his mother. She extricated his legs from around John’s shoulders and settled him against her hip. “We played Chutes ‘N’ Ladders an’ Candyland,” he continued, fingering the end of her braid, “and last night Austin made pineapple pizza. Carrie made us eat broc’li, too, though. It was really yucky.” He made a face, and everyone laughed. “C’n we have hamburgers for dinner tonight?”
“Why, that sounds wonderful,” Marlena replied, ruffling his hair.
“Great idea, squirt,” Sami put in. “In fact, we could have a full-blown barbecue out in the backyard. We haven’t done that in ages.” Brady looked to John, his eyes wide. “Can we, Daddy? Please?”
He held up a hand in mock surrender. “Hey, if your Mom’s in favor of it, who am I to argue? A Super-Duper, good old-fashioned barbecue it

is. In fact, we should call the whole family – all the Hortons, too, and just have a big ol’ party.” He winked at Marlena. “I’ll even wear my ‘Kiss The Cook’ chef’s apron.”

“Just as long as I’m the only one who takes you up on the offer.” She leaned over to give him a swift demonstration of her technique. “But before we can barbecue this evening, I think I owe Laura and Maggie a nice brunch for dragging them out of bed this morning for no apparent reason.”
“You don’t owe us anything,” Maggie replied, smiling. “Seeing the two of you together and happy is all the repayment we need.” She smirked at Laura. “And, besides, since we agreed to help *you* before *Mike* asked for our help, you got us out of a day of carrying boxes back and forth.”
“There’s still time,” John pointed out helpfully. “In fact, I’m on my way over there right now, if you need a ride.” Marlena elbowed him in the stomach, and he mimed severe pain.
Laura put a hand on Maggie’s shoulder to keep her from agreeing. “Gee, thanks for the offer, John, but Maggie and I have a brunch date.” She shot Maggie a significant glance. “*Don’t* we, dear?” Maggie grinned, and Laura turned to Sami. “Jenn’s over at Alice’s with Abby, and she told me to ask if Brady and Belle would like to come over and play today. If you need time to get ready for the barbecue…”
Sami tugged on Belle’s ponytail. “What do you say? Do you want to go play with Abby?” Brady and Belle nodded in concert. “Great! So, Mom, you go take your friends to brunch, John can supervise the doings at the loft, and I’ll take the kids over to the Horton Center before going shopping for necessary supplies. I’ll even put the word out to all and sundry. I’ll handle everything, don’t worry about a thing.”
“Are you sure, sweetheart?” Marlena asked, concerned. “That’s a lot of work.”
“It’s no problem,” Sami assured her. “In fact, I don’t want the two of you to come back here until at least four o’clock, okay? Take a little time to yourselves…you’ve earned it.”
John gave her a grateful smile and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re the best, Samantha Gene. You’ve got my celphone number if there are any problems, right?”
She nodded. “I’ve got it, I’ve got it. Now, *shoo*, all of you.”

Maggie grabbed Laura’s arm and steered her toward the door. “We’d better get going while the getting’s good. What do you think about that new place at the mall? I’ve heard they have *wonderful* bread and pastries.”

‘And margaritas,” Laura agreed as they stepped off of the front porch. “You’re driving. Are you coming, Marlena?”
“I’m right behind you,” Marlena promised. She bent down to kiss the children goodbye. “You be good for Mrs. Horton and Abby’s momma, okay? I’ll see you tonight, and we’ll have a *huge* party.” They nodded, and she stood up to give John a long kiss goodbye. “Give me a call when you get finished and we’ll try and figure out *something* to do to occupy us all afternoon.” Her eyes gleamed wickedly, and his answering grin was roguish.
“You leave that to me, Doc. I’ll call, don’t worry.”
With a flash of blonde hair and a bright smile, she was out the door. Sami and John traded satisfied glances, and then John leaned down to pick up the children’s suitcases. “Come on, kids, let’s get your stuff put away, and then you can go play with Abby.”
The threesome had just vanished up the steps when the kitchen door opened. Sami turned to see her father standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest. “I thought I heard voices,” he offered neutrally.
“You did,” Sami replied, swallowing back a smart remark about the length of time it usually takes to refill a cup of coffee. “Laura and Maggie brought Brady and Belle by, and they just took Marlena out for brunch. John’s upstairs with the kids getting them ready for a day of fun with Abby, and then he’s going over to help Mike move into the loft. And I’m going to get everything ready for a family backyard barbecue tonight.” She paused, her gaze narrowing. “What are *you* going to do, Daddy?” It was obvious that her question wasn’t really about his plans for the afternoon.
A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he swallowed convulsively. “I-…I suppose I’ll go stay at the Pub for a couple of days. Mom and Pop offered when I got back, so I’m sure they won’t mind. You *did* say the new house will be habitable next week, didn’t you?” She nodded. “Well, for Brady’s sake, the less change, the better – there’s no reason for your mom and the kids to move to the Penthouse just for a few

days. It makes more sense for me to bunk elsewhere for a little while.” He managed a small smile.

She nodded again, her expression carefully neutral. “That sounds like
a good idea.” She glanced at the stairs. “I think I’ll go see if John
needs any help with the kids.”
Roman silently watched her go.
***
Carrie stood in the middle of the living room of the loft, hands on her
hips, surveying the jumbled chaos of her surroundings. “You really
lucked out,” she remarked to Mike as he descended from the second
floor down the spiral metal staircase. “Not having to buy much
furniture, I mean. And the stuff John’s leaving is in really good shape.”
“No kidding,” Mike replied as he bent down to pick up another
cardboard box. “I *am* grateful, especially since I absolutely *hate*
shopping for furniture, and avoid it whenever possible. In fact, I really
don’t think I can remember the last time I-” He paused, struck by a
thought.
“What?”
He swung around to face the blue and white patterned couch and contemplated it silently for a moment. “Jen and Isabella dragged me along the day they went to pick out that sofa. They told me they’d do all the work of *selecting* it, if I would provide the brawn while they decided where it should go.”
Carrie laughed. “Ah, yes, very clever of them. Manual lifting is, of course, the only use for males when it comes to interior decorating.” Her gaze swept the room, sudden nostalgia conjuring years’ worth of memories of both John and Isabella. “I suppose maybe John feels that moving to the new house is a chance to start anew – and that’s totally understandable. But I’ll bet he appreciates that all of this stuff is going to someone who knew and loved Isabella.”
Mike studied the sofa thoughtfully. “I hope so.” Shaking off the momentary reverie, he jerked a thumb toward the staircase. “I’ll take this box up, and then we should probably take a break. Why don’t you see if you can find us something to drink? We could order a pizza or something.”
“Sounds good, but we should probably wait for John to get here before we order it.” He nodded his agreement, and she watched as he

ascended the steps, a small smile curving her lips. Sami had been rather cryptic on the phone earlier, but she had definitely gotten the impression that things had changed for the better between John and Marlena, and she couldn’t be happier.

A knock at the door made her smile widen. “I’ll get it, Mike,” she called, crossing the room to slide the door open, a smart remark ready on the tip of her tongue. Her smile faltered as she recognized the visitor. “Kr-Kristen,” she stuttered. “What are you-”
“You called *me*, remember?” Kristen replied a bit peevishly. “I’m here to make sure John and Marlena don’t steal any of my belongings.”
Carrie’s brow furrowed as she stared at Kristen, taken aback by her snide tone. “Well…um, okay. The…uh, the stuff I wasn’t sure about is up in Brady’s old bedroom. I was going to ask John about it when he got here…” Her voice trailed off uncertainly. “It’s not much, really. I…actually, I didn’t think you’d be coming. I mean, I thought you’d call first.”
Kristen swept past her, almost relieved that she no longer felt any need to feign politeness with members of Marlena’s family. It doesn’t matter anymore. Soon, nothing will matter anymore. “Gee, I’m *so* sorry if I’ve inconvenienced you,” she muttered sarcastically, “but you’ll find that I’m just *full* of surprises.” She gave her purse a surreptitious rub, her fingers tracing the outline of the gun that rested inside. You have *no* idea how many…
***
“Another toast!” Laura called merrily, holding up her frozen margarita. “To love!”
“To love!” Maggie and Marlena echoed as their glasses clinked. Maggie took a sip of her drink and hid a smile behind the rim as Marlena and Laura drained their glasses. Two empty mugs rested in front of Laura already, and Marlena had just finished her second. They were both flushed and laughing, their blonde hair gleaming in the dappled early afternoon light. The three of them were seated at one of the outdoor cafe tables adjacent to the restaurant, enjoying the unusually cool summer day, oblivious to the stir they were creating with their repeated exuberant toasts. Maggie had noticed the intent perusal of several passersby of the male persuasion as they ate their

brunch, and she admitted to feeling just a bit giddy herself. It had been a long time since she’d gotten together with ‘the girls’ for a bit of fun.

A ladylike snort drew her attention to Marlena, who had nearly doubled over with laughter at a rather ribald remark of Laura’s. Maggie had always enjoyed those rare occasions when Marlena really let loose and left inhibition behind – her reaction to alcohol tended to be exceedingly amusing for those around her. Marlena caught her intent perusal and grinned. “Maggie? You’re falling behind here.” She gestured at the empty glasses, then narrowed her gaze pointedly on Maggie’s single drink.
Maggie rolled her eyes. “*Someone* has to drive Laura home, and it obviously isn’t going to be her.”
“John and I could drop the two of you off, or you could just call Mickey to come pick you up,” Marlena suggested. Laura ignored their exchange as she gestured for the waitress to bring them more drinks.
Maggie shook her head. “No, it’s all right. I don’t want to delay your time together, and I definitely don’t want to interrupt Mickey. He and Don and Jack are meeting with representatives from the D.A.’s office.” She lowered her voice and leaned forward, glancing at Laura, who was detailing instructions for their next round of margaritas to the smiling waitress. “Laura doesn’t want to talk about it because she’s afraid she’ll jinx it, but there’s a good chance Jack’s ordeal could be over tonight.”
Marlena blinked. “Really? Oh, that’s *wonderful*! Now we’ll have *two* things to celebrate at the barbecue this evening!”
“I certainly hope so.” Maggie sat back and gazed at her friend, a faint smile on her lips.
Marlena raised an eyebrow. “What? Do I have mustard on my face or something?”
Maggie’s smile widened. “No. I was just remembering something…from a long, long time ago.”
Marlena tilted her head to the side and nibbled on a celery stalk. “Remembering what?” The waitress appeared and placed two more drinks in front of Marlena and Laura.
“Remembering the first time I saw the two of you together – you and John,” Maggie replied. “Really *together*, I mean. It wasn’t that long after he arrived in town and got that job at the hospital. Do you

remember that night a few weeks after our second wedding, when you invited Mickey and I out to dinner?”

Marlena’s brow furrowed, then cleared, as an interested Laura leaned forward, drink in hand. “Of course, I remember,” Marlena stated. “John tracked me down at the restaurant after I left the hospital without signing that stupid sign-in, sign-out sheet he’d dreamed up in his capacity as ‘Hospital Security Specialist’.” She gave the title a pompous intonation, then smiled wickedly. “I remember that I wanted to tell him exactly where he could *put* his clipboard, but you wouldn’t let me – even though I had every intention of being polite about it.”
“I thought he was cute,” Maggie explained, her eyes twinkling impishly. “And you did, too, don’t deny it. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him all through dinner, and I saw you eyeing his…nether regions…when he went to the bar to make that phone call.”
Marlena gasped in mock outrage, smothering a laugh. “Well, I *never*-”
“Oh, John has a *great* butt!” Laura agreed blithely, taking a gulp of her margarita. “I’ve always thought so.”
Marlena turned to glare at her. “Have you been eyeing *my* man?” she drawled, trying for a tough-girl intonation, but not quite pulling it off. The smile tugging at the corners of her mouth gave her away, Laura snorted, nearly spilling her drink. “Hey, there’s no law that says I can’t *look*. His butt’s out there for *everyone* to see and admire.” She sucked on a lime thoughtfully. “It’s sort of like…oh, a gift from God to the women of the world, you see. To make up for all those years he was wasted on celibacy.”
Marlena choked on her own drink, overcome by laughter. “I couldn’t *believe* it when he told me he was a priest,” she gasped through tears of mirth. “And that he’d entered the seminary when he was barely eighteen! You do know what that probably means, don’t you? That I was the one who-…That I took his-…” She couldn’t get the words out, instead dissolving into a bout of helpless giggling.
Laura’s eyes widened as she caught the implication, and then she, too, erupted into laughter. “Oh, my *God*, you’re probably right! You wanton hussy seductress, you!”
“Damn right!” Marlena gulped down the last few drops of her margarita and slammed the glass on the table for emphasis. “And I enjoyed

every minute of it, too.”

Her emphatic statement set them all off again, and laughter rang out
across the open courtyard, to the rapt appreciation of their fellow
diners.
***
Kristen sat crosslegged in the middle of the carpet and surveyed her surroundings, an angry scowl darkening her face. The room in which she sat had once been Brady’s bedroom, as evidenced by the child-sized furniture and baseball motif still adorning the walls. Mike had mentioned in passing that he would be fixing the room up for his son. I didn’t even know he *had* a son, she thought derisively. How can people bring children into this world and then care so little about them? Her fingers came to rest on the pregnancy padding underneath her dress. And I, who would have loved, and cherished, and protected my child within an inch of my *life*… She screwed her eyes shut and bit her lip, hard. I will *not* cry, I will notcry, Iwillnotcry…
She opened her eyes and searched for something to divert her attention, finding a worthy target in the stack of boxes next to the door
– five of them, each labeled with Isabella’s name and a number. The top box was the only one that had yet to be sealed, and Carrie had indicated that she should look in there after going through the few items on the dresser.
Kristen pushed herself to her feet and, reaching out to grab the box, dropped it on the floor with a muffled *thump*. Take that, bitch! she thought, not inclined to be charitable to a woman who somehow still managed to be more important to John than she herself was, even though Isabella had been deceased for years. “It’s not enough that I have to hear about *Saint* Marlena of Salem,” Kristen muttered angrily under her breath. “I have to hear about *Angel* Isabella, too…” Marlena was an all-too-familiar, well-known enemy, but Kristen had never met Isabella, and all she knew of John’s other wife was what little information she had gleaned from discussions about her over the years. That was enough to tell Kristen, though, that Isabella rivaled Marlena in the perfect-woman-on-a-pedestal competition, at least in the estimation of many in Salem.
Scowling, Kristen peered into the box. “Not to mention anal-retentiveness,” she added, sneering as she perused the contents. The

box was half-filled with large manila envelopes, each labeled with a neat hand – the notation PHOTO NEGATIVES, the date and location of the picture-taking, and a list of names of those present in the photos. Geesh! The rest of the space in the box was taken up with a jumble of knicknacks, most of them obviously kept for sentimental reasons, rather than monetary value. Tacky, tacky, Kristen thought, fingering a hokey-looking Yankees pin. There were also four or five heavily-laden keyrings, each key neatly labeled as to use. She pulled two of the rings out of the box to get a closer look at them. The tag on one ring read VILLA IN NAPLES; another, BRADY-TOSCANO INVESTIGATIONS, and so forth. Kristen rolled her eyes at the ceiling. How annoying can you get?

The sound of a knock on the downstairs door interrupted her reverie. She could hear Carrie’s excited greeting as the door rolled open, followed by the mellow tone of John’s cheerful reply.
He’s here, she thought, dropping the keys back into the box. She bent
down to pick up her purse from the floor, zipping it open to reveal the
gun inside. It’s time.
Chapter 83
Kristen crept out of Brady’s bedroom into the short hallway that led to the top of the loft’s spiral metal staircase. She leaned back against the wall, gun in hand, as she strained to hear the conversation taking place between John and Carrie in the room below. She had discovered a curious phenomenon while staying with John several years ago – the acoustics of the loft allowed for easy eavesdropping if you managed to stand in just the right place in the hallway. It had been an accidental discovery, one she’d never really taken advantage of, except for overhearing the occasional Marlena-related discussion. Did I know he was obsessed with her even then? she wondered darkly. Her fingers caressed the gun as Carrie’s voice filtered upward. Carrie grinned at John as he surveyed the living room of his former home, his hands on his hips, a small half-smile tugging at his lips. “You managed to miss most of the heavy lifting,” she remarked teasingly. “Way to go!”
He turned to look at her, eyes twinkling. “Yeah, well, I had *things* to do.”
Carrie chuckled. “So Sami said when I talked to her this morning. But

she didn’t give me any specifics. Does this mean…?” Her voice trailed off suggestively.

His smile widened into a full-fledged grin. “If you’re asking if Marlena and I are back together, the answer is yes.”
“OH!” she squealed, vaulting into his arms, “Oh, that’s *wonderful*! I’m *so* happy for you!”
Upstairs, Kristen tightened her grip on the gun as her stomach roiled with anger and betrayal. He *dumped* her! her mind screamed furiously. He said they would never be together again! That assertion hadn’t seemed all that important at the time of its making, coupled as it had been with John’s avowal that he would never come back to Kristen, no matter the status of his relationship with Marlena. But the thought that he would always be without the one he claimed to love, just as Kristen would be, had eventually begun to cheer her, at least a little bit. So how the hell did *this* happen?!? The happy lilt of John’s voice as he spoke of his reconciliation with Marlena was like a knife in her heart. Damn him! Damn him for doing this to me! Damn him to hell!
John twirled Carrie around as though she were still a little girl. “Thanks, punkin,” he said, giving her a kiss on the cheek as he returned her to her feet. “It means a lot to me to hear you say that.”
Carrie pulled back in his arms, her brow furrowing in concern. “Why do you say that? Has someone…” her voice hardened, “did *Sami* say something?”
“Oh, no,” he rushed to reassure her, “Sami’s happy about this, sweetheart. She really is.”
Carrie shook her head sheepishly, stepping away from him. “I knew that,” she muttered ruefully. “I mean, I could hear the excitement in her voice this morning when I talked to her about it. I don’t know why I said that.” She shrugged, chagrined. “It’s a reflex, I guess. I’m sorry.”
John reached out to cup her cheek. “I understand that, honey. But I wish-” he sighed and shook his head. “Never mind. I know there aren’t any quick fixes for this situation.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Anyway, to answer your question, it’s not Sami’s reaction that has me worried. When Maggie and Laura brought the kids home, Brady suggested we barbecue tonight, and before I knew it, we had planned a full-fledged Brady-Horton party.” He grimaced. “And then on the way

over here I started wondering whether the Bradys would even *want* to come. I mean, Shawn’s made *his* opinion pretty clear on the situation. He wants Marlena to be with Roman.” A muscle in his cheek twitched reflexively.

Carrie bit her lip and averted her gaze. “Oh…well, I’m sure he’ll come around. And as far as Grandma and Uncle Bo are concerned, I don’t think you have anything to worry about. So, anyway…how-” she hesitated briefly, “-how did Dad take the news?”
John shrugged slightly, not looking at her. “I-…ah, I’m not sure, really. Sami didn’t say much about it.”
“Well, we’ll all find out soon enough, I suppose,” she replied briskly, unwilling to let anything spoil the moment. “Just remember, it doesn’t really matter what the rest of the world thinks, so long as you and Marlena are happy. And I can see by the look in your eyes that you are.” She patted him companionably on the arm. “Which brings me to my next important question…” John raised an eyebrow, and she grinned at him. “What in the world are you doing *here* when you should be out…um, celebrating” *cough* “with Marlena?”
He laughed. “Later, later. Right now, Marlena’s out having an all-girls’ brunch with Laura and Maggie, and I figured I’d made Mike wait long enough to move in here. How’s it going, by the way?”
“Well, I told you you’d missed all the heavy lifting, you slacker,” she reminded him. “I think we’ve got almost everything sorted out. Mike remembered a couple of boxes that he’d left at the house, and he went to get them. Oh, and he’s picking up a pizza.” She elbowed him impishly. “We waited for you for a while, but we got too hungry. You’ll just have to pick off the pineapple.”
He made a face. “You and your disgusting pizza toppings, ever since you were a little girl…but that’s okay, I have other plans for lunch, anyway. Pineapple-free plans. You and Mike will just have to eat it without me.”
“So much for helping out, hmm?” Her fond smile took the sting from her words. “I suppose we’ll forgive you. I am glad you came by, though, because the people from the storage place are still scheduled to take the last of your stuff this afternoon. You probably should give everything one last once-over to make sure you haven’t left anything you’ll want for the new house.”

He nodded. “Good idea, but I’m pretty sure I have everything already. And even if I don’t, I’m sure Mike will let me come by and visit the old place now and again to dig through the closets.”

“I’m sure he will, if you ask nicely,” she replied, laughing. “So, what’s in the bag?” She pointed to the paper sack he had placed on the kitchen counter when he’d entered the loft.
“Oh, magazines. I thought I’d put some of Isabella’s memorial issues of Bella in storage for the kids when they get older. Are any of the boxes upstairs still open?”
Suddenly Carrie remembered the presence of their other visitor. She
lowered her voice as she replied, “Um, one of them. But you might not
want to go up there right now.”
John’s brow furrowed. “Why not?”
She grimaced. “Because Kristen’s up there. And she’s *not* in a very good mood.”
You have *no* idea! Kristen thought angrily, her grip tightening on the gun. The disinterested tone of John’s reply was clearly audible even from the second floor.
“What timing, huh?” he sighed. “Well, I suppose I owe it to her to tell her the news myself. Maybe it’s good that she’s in a bad mood – at least that way it can’t get any worse.”
“Don’t bet on it,” Carrie muttered under her breath. “She’s up in Brady’s old room, looking through the stuff I wasn’t sure about. Good luck talking to her…I’m afraid you’ll really need it.”
Kristen slipped back into Brady’s room as John’s footsteps pounded hollowly on the metal stairs. Now that the moment was at hand, she wasn’t sure if she could go through with her plan. She glanced wildly around the room, suddenly wishing that their confrontation was taking place somewhere – *anywhere* – else. The cheerful painted walls and baseball motif reminded her all-too-painfully of the consequences of her planned action for everyone involved.
Brady would be an orphan. Technically, she mentally amended, scowling. But he’ll have John’s *precious* Marlena for a mother. It’s not fair! She has so damn many kids *already* that she doesn’t pay attention to, for God’s sake. Brady would have been mine if it weren’t for her! She bit the inside of her cheek, the force of her fury nearly drawing blood.

At least Marlena would lose the man she claimed to love – but, then, Kristen had few illusions about the strength of that love. I’ll lay bets that she’ll be Mrs. Roman Brady again inside of six months.

She hadn’t considered Carrie’s presence when she’d formulated her nebulous ‘plan’. She knew that the younger woman would probably come straight up the stairs once she heard the shot, all thoughts of self-preservation forgotten in her concern for her one-time father. And what would Kristen do when Carrie reached the top of the stairs and found her standing over John’s body? Could she shoot a relatively innocent bystander, whose only crime was loving the wrong people?
It’s not like I’ll get away with it, anyway. Kristen knew she herself would most likely go to jail, for a long, long time, if John’s extensive network of friends and colleagues had anything to say about it. She doubted even Stefano could save her from their collective wrath, even if he were so inclined.
Which he probably wouldn’t be.
But John would be gone…and she would no longer be tormented by the image of him loving someone else.
She wasn’t quite sure when she had come to the decision that she would rather see John dead than in love with another woman. When she’d first realized that she was contemplating his death, she’d believed it had more to do with her hatred of Marlena than anything else. But standing here, in a room redolent of *another* of John’s wives, she knew that it didn’t truly matter to her *whomever* else he married, if it wasn’t to be her – she couldn’t bear seeing his happiness at all.
But she’d always been genuinely fond of Brady.
Kristen turned her back to the door as she heard his footsteps approach. She stared down at the gun in her shaking hands. Can I do this? Can I kill the man I love? Her frown returned. The man who no longer loves *me*…the man who dumped me for his precious, *precious* Doc… Her finger tightened on the trigger. “Kristen?” ***

Marlena blinked rapidly several times as she attempted to bring the blurry figures of her tablemates into focus. Laura was slumped down in her chair, almost sliding out of the seat, her face wreathed in a silly grin. She was needling Maggie about some ancient bit of Horton trivia,

and Maggie had dissolved into a bout of helpless giggling.

Their waitress stopped by with an empty tray and began to gather up their discarded margarita glasses. “You ladies aren’t driving home, are you?” she asked lightly in a tone of professional concern.
“I’m not,” Laura called, waving happily toward Maggie. “I have my chauffeur, here. She’s a teetotaler.”
Maggie rolled her eyes at Laura’s antics and handed her single empty glass to the waitress with a smile. “Not quite.”
Laura went on blithely, her voice a slow, sloppy drawl, “And Dr. Evans here has a hunka hunka burnin’ fi-*ahn*-ce coming to pick *her* up!” Marlena choked on the last of her drink as her mind conjured up a wildly funny picture of John-as-Elvis. She managed a smile and a nod of agreement for the waitress. “Don’t worry about us, we’ll be fine.” The waitress grinned at her, nodded, and left the check behind. “Laura,” Marlena said, in a tone of laughing admonishment, “you are *drunk*!”
“Am *not*,” Laura retorted firmly, wagging her finger at Marlena. “I’m *soooo* not drunk. *I*,” she declared imperiously, “am a psysh-…a psychs…a *shrink*!”
Marlena gave her declaration serious consideration. “Yes,” she agreed slowly, “but so am I. And *I’m* drunk.” She slammed a hand onto the table to emphasize her point.
The dishes jumped, and Maggie stifled a laugh at their antics. She glanced at her watch. “Oh, look at the time! We’ve been here for hours already!”
Marlena cocked her head, puzzled, as she realized Maggie was right. “I wonder why John hasn’t called…” ***

Carrie pondered the metal staircase, her brow furrowed in a thoughtful frown. Maybe I should have gone up there with him…not that my being there would be likely to change her reaction any. She was uncomfortably certain that Kristen was about to have a complete meltdown. A muffled pounding on the front door brought her out of her reverie, and she crossed the carpet to pull it open.
“Thanks,” Mike muttered around the plastic bag dangling from his mouth. His arms were full; he carried two brown cardboard boxes with a pizza box perched precariously on top. She relieved him of both bag

and pizza, sniffing appreciably at the savory aroma. “Breadsticks,” he explained, tilting his head toward the bag. “Thanks. I’ll just take these upstairs and then we can eat.”

Carrie put a hand on his arm to stop him. He glanced from her fingers to her face and raised a questioning brow. She flushed slightly and snatched her hand away. “Um, John’s up there…with Kristen,” she babbled, wondering why his mere presence could disconcert her so. “I think we’d better leave them alone for a bit.”
He nodded and set the boxes down on the floor. “Sure, no problem. Is something wrong?” He opened a cabinet and reached for two plates. Carrie grimaced toward the stairs, then switched on the radio, hoping music would drown out their conversation. She knew that it was deceptively easy to eavesdrop from upstairs, and she didn’t want to be overheard. “Well, no, not exactly. I guess you could actually say something’s very right – John and Marlena are back together.” “Really?” He grinned and handed her a fork. “That’s great!” He studied her chagrined expression. “Isn’t it?”
“Oh, of course, it is,” she assured him. “I couldn’t be happier for them – for all of us. But I think we can be pretty sure that *Kristen’s* not going to feel that way.”
Understanding dawned. “Oh, ouch, I see your point. Although I can’t see how it would come as that much of a surprise to her. It’s blindingly obvious to everyone how they feel about one another. But I suppose hope springs eternal, at least for some people. Do you think she’ll…lose it?”
Carrie chewed her lower lip thoughtfully. “I don’t know, Mike. A few months ago I would’ve said no way. I mean, she’s always seemed like a pretty nice person, not that I know her that well or anything. She’s never shown signs of resembling Stefano the way Tony and Peter did, as far as I can tell. But lately…” her voice trailed off and she shrugged. “I just don’t know.”
He nodded in uneasy agreement. “I understand what you mean. I thought I *did* know her, after everything we went through together during the exorcism. But ever since we got back from Aremid, she’s been…*different*. I don’t know how to explain it.”
She blinked. “You know, I guess that’s when I first started to wonder about them. Other than to suspect that John never stopped really

loving Marlena, I mean. I could not *believe* that Kristen told the court that she believed John might’ve killed Tony. I remember thinking, ‘She doesn’t know him at all if she thinks he could do something like that.'”

“It surprised me, too,” he admitted. “She didn’t give any indication at all before she testified that she thought he had done it. I think John was completely blown away when she admitted she believed it on the stand.”
“Mmm. But he *forgave* her! I think that’s what I found most inexplicable of all. Well, not that he forgave her exactly, but that he would want to resume a relationship with her, when she could believe he’d do something so terrible.”
Mike shrugged uneasily – he could well remember how upset Kristen had been after that fiasco. “She felt awful about it.”
“Well, she *should* have,” Carrie retorted fiercely. “That isn’t *love*. Love means trust, it means believing in the other person – no matter what anyone else says. If you don’t have that…” She fell silent as she noticed his intense stare. “What?”
His cheeks reddened as he looked away. “Nothing.” His gaze wandered to the stairs. “I wonder how it’s going up there.” ***

“Kristen?” John repeated, confused as to why she hadn’t turned around in response to his first call. A few cheerful notes of music wafted up the stairs.
Kristen screwed her eyes shut and squared her shoulders. This is it… She tried to lift the gun, in preparation to turn and shoot, but her hand seemed frozen to her side. She knew that he could not see the revolver from his vantage point, hidden as it was between the folds of her maternity dress – so I have a little time. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him, her nimble fingers slipping the gun into her pocket unnoticed. “John,” she managed in an even tone.
His brow furrowed. Why is she standing here in the middle of the room? “Are you all right?” he asked, worry tingeing his tone. “You look pale, Kristen.” She stared at him wordlessly for a moment, then shook her head, so he continued, asking, “Did you find anything?”
Kristen swallowed, her mouth dry. She could almost believe the note of concern in his voice – if it weren’t for her knowledge of how little he truly felt for her. “Find-? Oh, no, not yet. I’m not quite finished.”

He raised a brow, as if to ask why not – it wasn’t as though there was much left to peruse. But then he shrugged, unwilling to expend time and energy questioning her further. He held up the bag in his hand. “I just brought these by to put in storage for the kids.” He tilted the bag to show her the contents. “I thought they might like reading these issues of Bella someday. Especially Brady.”

She managed a sour smile, though the sight of Marlena’s happy face next to John’s on the cover made her feel more like retching. “That’s nice. I’m sure he’ll appreciate it someday.”
John’s gaze left her face to scan the room around them, his expression softening as he remembered the day he and Isabella had painted its cheerful walls. She’d been heavy with Brady by that point, and had looked like a rotund, cheerful, curly-haired bank robber while sporting the breathing mask that protected her from paint fumes. “I hope so,” he murmured, running a hand along the top of the dresser. “I want him to know how much everyone loved his mother.”
Oh, give me a break! was the only reply Kristen could formulate, but she didn’t utter it aloud.
After a few moments he shook himself out of his reverie and turned to face her, looking uncomfortable. “I- ah, I have something to tell you, Kristen.” His gaze slid uneasily from her face, and he busied himself with stowing the magazines in an open box. “It’s…um, it’s about Doc.”
Kristen flinched. Of course. Her hand slipped into her pocket, taking comfort from the cold metal of the gun.
“I know that when we…*spoke*…the other day, I told you that-”
“You mean, when we *fought*, don’t you?” Kristen interrupted archly, her tone bitter. “When I tried my best to comfort you after Marlena betrayed you yet *again*, and you basically told me that you had never loved me, never would love me, and didn’t give a damn about our child!”
His shocked gaze flew to her face. “Marlena didn’t betray me, and I *never* said I didn’t care about our baby!” he replied furiously, his chosen points indicating the veracity of her statements about his love for her. “I love *all* my children, Kristen.”
“Oh, *yes*,” she spat back. “I know *exactly* how you feel about them. You love Belle, because her mother is your *precious* Marlena, and you love Brady, because the *saintly* Isabella gave him to you. You

even love Sami, Eric, and Carrie, because they represent a time when you were Roman Brady, and that’s who you’ve *always* wanted TO *BE*!” Her voice rose to an angry shout. “But *our* baby – *my* baby – she’s just a mistake to you, isn’t she? Just a decision you wish you’d never made, a relic of a time in your life that you’d rather forget!” Her whole body shook with the force of her fury.

His mouth opened, an angry retort on the tip of his tongue, but the grains of truth in her words held him back. He took a deep breath and slowly shook his head. “I’m sorry, Kristen. I’m sorry you’re hurting…but you’re wrong about how I feel about the baby.” “I am *no-*”

“*BUT*,” he continued, cutting her off, “I can understand why you’re not really in the mood to hear it. I never meant to hurt you, Kristen, but I know that I have – and I know that there’s nothing I can do to fix it.” He shook his head again. “And there’s no point in getting into it now. Look, I have somewhere I need to be, so-”
“Somewhere with *Marlena*?” Kristen interrupted, sneering.
His eyebrows flew up. “How did you-…Oh, never mind. *Yes*, I’m meeting Marlena. She and I are back together, which is what I was trying to tell you just now. I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from me first – I wanted to be the one to tell you.”
Kristen blinked back sudden stinging tears. “Why?” she managed to ask. “Did you think it would be any easier coming from you?” Her throat felt raw and hot. “You dumped me, John. I gave you everything I had, loved you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my entire life, and you dropped me like I never mattered to you at all – the very *minute* you believed you had a chance to win her back.” He averted his gaze guiltily. “That’s not true, Kristen.”
“Isn’t it?” she retorted darkly. “You as much as told me that you never really loved me, that you never honestly fell out of love with her. I’d like to think that’s just a line you’re feeding her, but I can’t believe that – because I know you.” She stepped forward, her hands fisted at her sides, her fingers inches from the pocket that held the gun. “I know you,” she repeated in a low voice that shook with suppressed emotion, “better than anyone – better than *she* does. And maybe I let the way I felt about you blind me to the person you really were for too many years, but I can see you clearly now, John.” Her eyes flashed with

accusing fury. “You *used* me! I was just some pathetic little substitute for your obsession with Marlena. You couldn’t have her, so you settled for me.” He winced as her barb found its mark, and she smiled a smile of bitter triumph. “I’m right, aren’t I? *God*, if I had only been able to see who you really were, I *never* would have betrayed Tony for you!”

He stiffened. “Maybe you shouldn’t have,” he replied distantly, “though most people would probably count themselves better off without a man like that for a husband. Not that it really matters now.”
Her hand found its way into her pocket, driven by the impetus of fury. His maddening indifference to the wrongs he’d done her held her doubts at bay. I can do it now, she realized with a jolt of triumph. I can finally take my revenge.
“No, it doesn’t matter anymore,” she agreed, her mouth curving in a slow, vicious smile. “Nothing matters. Nothing at all.”
Her finger found the trigger just as the piercing ring of John’s celphone rent the air. Damn, she thought, realizing how lucky she was that she hadn’t been startled into shooting herself in the foot.
Without a word he turned his back on her and held the phone to his ear. “Yes?” A brief pause, then, “Well, *hello* to you, too.”
His tone left no doubt in Kristen’s mind that the person on the other end was Marlena. Bitch. She eased the gun out of her pocket.
“No, I’m still over at the loft….Um-hmmm, so, are you girls having a
good time?” Her arm rose upward, driven by the burning humiliation of being forced to listen to him flirt with Marlena. “She did? Maggie? Wow….so, are we still on for this afternoon, or are you ditching me in
favor of female-bonding?” Her fingers tightened around the handgrip, readying to pull the trigger. His low, sexy laugh, skittered along her shattered nerves. “Well, I do have to admit that *that* sort of bonding does sound even more interesting. And lucky for us, I’m just about done here. Where should I pick you up?”
‘Just about done’…like I’m a chore to be completed. The words rolled over and over in her head as her hand trembled with such force that she feared she’d shoot the dresser by accident. She wasn’t exactly proficient with firearms – for some reason, Stefano had never encouraged her to learn to shoot the way he had Tony and Peter. But she hadn’t been too worried about it – it wasn’t like she needed a

sniper’s proficiency to pop him one from two feet away…that is, assuming her nerve didn’t failher.

It won’t, she told herself firmly, biting her lower lip. I can do this.
*No*one does what he did to me and gets away with it! Another low
laugh bolstered her wavering will, and her scowl deepened with iron
determination. No one.
She squeezed the trigger.
Chapter 84
Kristen studied herself as though viewing a videotape of her own actions running in slow-motion. She saw her hand move upward to point the revolver at John’s oblivious back. She saw her eyes darken with anger as she listened to the love in his tone as he spoke to Marlena on his celphone. She saw her finger tighten determinedly on the trigger.
And then with a rushing roar, sound once again filled her ears, and the sharp *click* of the hammer strike reverberated loudly inside her head. She waited, almost numb with pain and anger, for the blooming of blood against John’s back, a sight to assure her that she’d finally managed to silence the source of her anguish – even if that peace did come at the expense of her own sanity.
But no shower of red appeared, and slowly the other sounds of the room penetrated her fog. The notes of music that wafted up the stairs from the room below; the low, steady murmur of Carrie and Mike’s voices as they debated arrangement of the furniture…the quiet, sexy chuckle of John’s reply to some remark of Marlena’s. What happened? she wondered dully, blinking down at the gun still clutched in her outstretched hand. Her index finger held the trigger flush against its housing. I did it. I shot him. I don’t understand what happened – why isn’t he-…
John reached up to rub the back of his neck as he spoke to Marlena, the smooth muscles of his shoulder stretching his t-shirt, drawing it taut against his back…his unmarred back. He hadn’t even reacted to the quiet click of the hammer…which hadn’t been followed by the muffled *pop* of a bullet, Kristen finally realized.
It didn’t fire. She drew the gun back and frowned down at it. What happened? She fumbled with the chamber before popping it open and counting the bullets that still rested inside. Five, she thought

confusedly as she stared at the tiny concentric circles. I could have sworn I put six bullets in here.

Slowly she raised her eyes again to contemplate John’s expression as he turned his head a bit, allowing her to study his profile. His mouth was curved in a slight smile as he raised an eyebrow in unconscious humor, and his obvious happiness once again began to make her blood boil. She tried to raise the gun further, but her hands were trembling so violently that she almost lost her purchase on the handgrip. Dammit, dammit, dammit… She managed to steady the revolver and point it toward him, but her finger froze on the trigger. The adrenaline that had sustained her through her first shot failed her on her second attempt. “No,” she whispered as John flipped his phone shut. Nononononono…
Her hand fell unbidden toward her side as John tucked the celphone
in his jacket pocket and turned to face her. His gaze slid over her still
figure to the doorway with obvious impatience, and he completely
missed seeing the gun in her hand. “I have to go, Kristen. When you
finish up here, let Carrie know you’re leaving, all right?” He brushed
past her without another word, his trailing arm coming within inches of
the revolver. She turned to watch him go, the pain from that final,
unthinking insult nearly enabling her to raise the gun in time to shoot
him in the back.
But not quite.
Her shoulders slumped as bitter tears of humiliation stung her eyes, and she berated herself for her continual weakness when it came to John. I can’t do anything right. I can’t even get revenge right. Some DiMera I turned out to be… She lowered her head as the tears began to flow, and her gaze came to rest on the open box of Isabella’s belongings in the corner. The fury she hadn’t been able to release upon John spilled over onto his absent late wife. She picked up the box and dropped it onto the floor with a loud *CRASH*, and its meager contents spilled out across the carpet. A magazine slid toward her feet
– John, Marlena, Belle, Brady and Carrie’s happy faces grinned up at her. She reached down to pick it up, grasping the front and back covers in her hands and pulling them apart with an immensely satisfying rip. The resulting heady sense of destruction was a balm to her wounded soul, and she continued her spree, shredding the cover

picture, concentrating especially on the bits containing John and Marlena. The detritus rained like confetti.

The only caveat to her satisfaction was the knowledge that what she had done accomplished little by way of true revenge. John might experience a minor twinge of regret at the magazine’s ruin – for all of about two seconds, she supposed. And even if she continued her rampage, the destruction of property was little consolation considering what she’d endured. I need more than this, she thought, once again contemplating the gun. John’s voice wafted up the stairs as he bid farewell to Carrie and Mike, informing them that he was headed to the mall to pick up Marlena. Kristen closed her eyes as the front door clicked shut.
It’s not over yet! She swallowed convulsively, then bent down to gather up the scattered scraps of paper. No sense in giving them any kind of warning. She stuffed the remains in her purse, stealing a few of Isabella’s things in her haste – the Yankees pin, a ring of keys. “He won’t notice,” she muttered darkly, zipping the bag shut with a vicious jerk and slinging it over her shoulder. “He can blather on all he wants about how much he loved his precious Isabella – *I* know the truth. He’s been obsessed with Marlena ever since he met her.” She struggled to her feet, wrenching the pregnancy padding into place. “And Peter thought *I* was sick.” She kicked the box into the corner and grinned in satisfaction as it slammed against the wall. “The mall, huh? Guess it’s time for *me* to take a little shopping trip.” ***

Shawn looked up from wiping down the bar as Roman entered the Pub. He studied his son’s slumped shoulders for a moment, and concluded correctly that his downcast mood had something to do with Marlena. “Roman?” he called. Roman glanced up, and Shawn gestured for him to sit down on a barstool.
Sighing, Roman did as he was bid and slid onto the stool, exuding a palpably defeated air. “Hi, Pop,” he muttered tiredly. “Give me a beer, would you?”
“Rough day?” Shawn murmured as he filled his son’s request. “You don’t look so good, boyo.”
Roman ran a hand through his hair. “Then I look like I feel. It’s been a helluva day, Pop.”

“What happened?”

Roman sighed again. “What else?” He shrugged, managing a sickly smile through the pain, but Shawn could tell that he was devastated, and he suddenly knew what his son was going to say even before he uttered the words. “John and Marlena are back together,” Roman informed his father in a low, raw voice. He met Shawn’s gaze, soul-deep pain in his eyes. “And this time it’s for good.” ***

“Are you *ever* going to tell me where we’re going?” Marlena wondered plaintively as she and John made their way carefully along the docks. Her hand was tucked securely under John’s arm as he led his blindfolded fiancee to their destination.
“Don’t you trust me?” he replied playfully, grinning at the slight wobble in her steps. He’d been wildly amused at the inebriated state of Marlena and her brunch companions. Maggie had almost been forced to carry Laura to her car as the blonde warbled some sort of show tune at the top of her lungs, to the bemused appreciation of the crowd at the mall. Marlena was in marginally better condition, but not sober by a long shot.
“Of *course* I trust you,” she replied, pulling on his arm to bring them to a halt. She stood up on her tiptoes to give him a sloppy kiss, the blindfold making her miss his lips initially, though perseverance and enthusiasm eventually prevailed. John stifled another laugh and returned the kiss.
“I hate to break this up,” he murmured when they finally came up for air, “but we’re here.”
She reached up a hand to peek out from under the blindfold, her eye twinkling merrily at him. “Here, where?”
He pulled the scarf away with a flourish. “Here, *here*,” he said, gesturing to the sleek motorboat lying moored at the dock.
Marlena cocked her head and stared at it, her brow furrowed in a puzzled frown John found incredibly adorable. “Are we going water-skiing?”
John chuckled. “If we *were*, we wouldn’t be now, thanks to your overindulgence in margaritas. But, no, this is actually our means of conveyance to our final destination.”
“You sound like a travel agent,” she replied, smiling. “Soo….are you

taking me to Hawaii…or Antarctica?”

“Neither one, nosy – you’re just going to have to try to be a tiny bit patient this time. I know it’s a strain, but give it your best shot, ‘kay? Your chariot awaits, milady.”
She allowed him to help her into the boat, smiling up at him and fluttering her lashes like a blonde, slightly tipsy Scarlett O’Hara. “Why thank you, kind sir.”
As they pulled away from the dock and the sound of the boat motor faded away, Kristen emerged from the shadows behind the stairwell, her gaze trained on their retreating forms. The queasy ball of anger in her stomach roiled furiously with her rising certainty about their destination. There was only one place they could be going…and only one way she could follow.
She turned on her heel and strode down the docks, determination in
her every step.
***
Marlena smiled up at John as she stepped from the deck of the boat onto the small dock at the tip of Smith Island. He grabbed the trailing line and began to moor the boat to the dock. “The Horton cabin?” she guessed, raising an eyebrow.
“Yup,” he replied, slinging an arm around her shoulders as they headed toward the path that led toward the cabins. “I got to thinking earlier about that nightmare you had last night.” He gave her shoulders a comforting squeeze as he felt her body tense. “I told you that I didn’t have a problem with your not actively searching for your lost memories, Doc – and I meant it. But I do think it’s a shame that what little you *can* remember isn’t good.” She relaxed a little, nodding her understanding. “So I decided that this afternoon I’d give you a little gift – a story, if you will.”
She leaned her head into his chest, snuggling closer as they made their way through the grass. “What kind of story?” she asked softly.
“A story about one of the best days of our lives,” he replied as he held an errant tree branch out of the way. “I’m going to tell you about the day our daughter was born.”
Marlena’s breath caught in her throat. She came to a halt in front of the Horton cabin and turned to look up at John, her eyes shining. “That’s right,” she whispered hoarsely. “You did tell me she was born

here.”

He nodded as he dug into his pocket, eventually extracting the key he’d borrowed from Alice. “Um-hmm. Don’t misunderstand me, Doc – I’m not trying to jog your memory. I just…I just want to give you the gift of that moment. I want you to feel the happiness of her birth.” He regarded her somewhat anxiously out of the corner of his eye as he slipped the key into the lock. “Do you understand?”
Her soft smile relieved his anxiety. “I understand,” she murmured, reaching up to caress his cheek with her palm. “And I think it’s one of the most wonderful, thoughtful things anyone has ever done for me. Thank you, sweetheart. Thank you so much.”
The key clicked home in the lock, and the doorknob turned. “Okay, then. Are you ready, Doc?”
She smiled and set her shoulders, threading her fingers through his.
“Ready.” They walked inside.
Sunlight shone through the gauzy rose curtains that shrouded the windows. The arrangement of furniture looked virtually the same to John as it had that wonderful day so many years ago, though the decor was somewhat different. The low couch was now covered in a dark denim fabric, and the bedspread on the mattress across the room was a soft blue covered with tiny, delicate roses.
But the atmosphere was the same – still and calm, exuding a peace that seemed to come from being a million miles away from civilization, instead of a scant few meters from Salem’s shore. A soft breeze wafted through the half-closed windows, dueling lazily with the downdraft of the slowly turning ceiling fan. Cheerful Horton family photos smiled down from the walls and the mantle, almost as if in benediction.
Marlena looked up at John and smiled. “So?”
John grinned down at her as he ran his hand along the counter. “Soo…I suppose we should begin at the beginning.” He jerked a thumb toward the door. “Which, technically, means I shouldn’t be here yet, because you came out here on your own to get away.”
Marlena paced toward the mantle and glanced at the pictures. “By myself? When I was, what, almost nine months pregnant? Wow, that wasn’t smart.”
“Not quite nine months – and you thought Roman was coming,” he told

her. “The two of you got your signals crossed at the police station, and then the battery on your celphone died.”

She turned to regard him, an eyebrow lifted in ironic bemusement. “Isn’t that what happened to Lucy Ricardo?”
He laughed. “Something like that. Don’t be too hard on yourself, though. You were still reeling from Stefano’s latest return from the dead, and you just needed a break from it all.”
Marlena’s gaze took on a faraway cast. “That’s understandable, I suppose,” she murmured absently as she fingered the frame of a picture of Tom Horton.
“More than understandable,” John agreed, taking her arm to lead her over to the couch. “And it would have been fine if Belle hadn’t chosen *not* to take after her mother by being late for everything.”
She punched him playfully on the arm as they dropped in concert down on the couch. “You’re one to talk, Mr. Punctual.”
He grinned as he kicked off his boots. “I know. But I couldn’t resist, Doc – it *does* sound like something that would happen to Lucy Ricardo.”
She flipped her sneakers off and drew her legs up onto the cushion. “All right, all right, we both agree that it wasn’t the brightest thing I ever did. So how did *you* come to be on the island? Were you looking for me?”
He grimaced. “Well, Doc, um, to be honest, I was, uh, looking for Kristen, actually. Alice had informed me that she had come out here.” A wrinkle marred Marlena’s brow. “Kristen was here?”
He nodded. “Mmm-hmm. I wanted to talk to her about why she had somehow never gotten around to mentioning that Stefano was her adoptive father. And *she* wanted to talk to *you* about why no one in Salem was exactly lining up to join his fan club.”
“Gee, *that’s* a hard one,” Marlena quipped sarcastically.
John rolled his eyes. “Yeah, it’s a stumper, all right. But that’s not important, Doc – after all, we’re not looking to remember *everything* here, right? We’re just telling a story. So what do you say that in our story, Kristen *was* here, but she…she…”
“Went for a midnight swim in shark-infested waters?” Marlena supplied brightly, before guiltily smothering a grin. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Why not?” John replied flippantly as he recalled Kristen’s bitterness when he’d spoken to her earlier.

She nudged his chest with her shoulder. “Because it’s not fair. After all, I’ve got you, and our daughter, and our family, and she’s lost nearly everything and everyone she loves. I don’t need to be *snide* on top of all of that.”
“But it’s so much *fun*,” he whined, in a near perfect imitation of Brady when he wanted something. “No, no, you’re right, I’m not being fair. All right, we’ll compromise. Kristen’s…ah, Kristen has gone on a wonderful, all-expenses-paid vacation to the Caribbean, okay?”
Marlena nodded decisively. “That sounds good.” Then she cocked her head to one side, considering. “But since we’re only human, and it’s just the two of us here…we’ll agree that it was hurricane season, all right?” She beamed at him, and he couldn’t help but return the smile.
“All right, that’s what we’ll do. So, on with the story…” They leaned back against the cushions, snuggling closer. He reached up to trace her jawline with a tender finger. “By the time I arrived on the last ferry, your water had already broken, and you were becoming just a tiny bit anxious.”
Marlena rolled her eyes. “I can imagine.”
“But you were, of course, *immensely* relieved that I had arrived,” he continued blithely, “knowing as you did that I was a wonderful person to have around in a crisis, cool-headed and all that.” She punched him again, and he laughed. “All right, no more self-promotion. But you *were* glad to see me, I swear.”
She brought her hand up to his chest, rubbing gently over the soft fabric of his t-shirt. “I believe you,” she whispered.
He brought his hand up to capture hers. “And I told you to trust me, because I had been there to deliver Brady when he was born and he turned out just fine.”
Marlena leaned her cheek against his shoulder. “I trust you,” she whispered. “I’ve always trusted you, with everything – with my life.”
He kissed her forehead. “Good answer. And almost word-for-word what you said then.”
They were silent for a moment, exchanging gentle caresses. “Was it a long labor?” she wondered eventually.
“Not too long,” he replied. “You were so brave, Doc. So strong…” He

trailed his fingers up and down her arm as memories from that long ago day ran through his mind. “And so beautiful. These aren’t rose-colored glasses talking, either, Doc. Nice romantic stories aside, I know that most women look like hell when they go through labor, and there’s no earthly reason why they shouldn’t. God knows, *men* certainly couldn’t handle it! But you really were beautiful.” Marlena made a noise of quiet yet firm dissent.

“You were,” he insisted. “Your hair was damp with perspiration and curling around your face the way it does after you’ve taken a shower. Your cheeks were red from the effort, and your eyes sparkled in the lamplight.” Their gazes met, and held. “You were beautiful,” he repeated softly.
She blinked an acknowledgment. “And I’ll bet *you* were scared out of your mind,” she finally submitted, her voice rough with emotion. “Totally,” he agreed, pulling away from her to shift her shoulders back against the arm of the couch. “But I knew how much you needed me, and I was determined not to let you down, Doc. I would have done anything for you and that little baby.” He brought her legs up onto the cushions, placing one foot on either side of him. They both now sat in the same positions they had occupied the day of Belle’s birth.
“I know you would have,” Marlena answered. “And I *knew* that, I must have.”
Their eyes met once again. “Oh, God, I hope so,” he said feelingly. Marlena reached for John’s hands and brought them up to her shoulders, pulling his upper body forward to rest between her legs. “Then what happened?” she managed to ask through a suddenly dry throat.
He smiled, even as emotion-laden memory-driven tears brimmed at the corners of his eyes. “And then our miracle was born,” he murmured achingly, his fingers caressing her shoulders, tracing along the straps of her overalls. “*God*, she was beautiful, Doc, from the very minute she was born. And that’s not prejudice talking, either, because I’m the first one to admit that Brady was one odd-looking red-faced spud when *he* came into the world! But Belle was absolutely perfect.”
Marlena cradled his face between her palms. “Well, what else could she have possibly been? The best of you, and the best of me, formed

together by God himself.” A single tear ran down her cheek. “What else could she have been but perfect?”

“Nothing else, Doc,” he replied, leaning forward to kiss her softly on the lips. “Nothing else.”
She returned the kiss with the lightest of touches. “Thank you for doing this,” she murmured, her breath light against his cheek. “Thank you for telling me this.”
He nodded. “That day was a new beginning for us, Marlena, even if we didn’t know it at the time. And I wish we *had* known. I wish I’d known that I was delivering my daughter that day.” He reached up to caress her cheek. “But you have to know that I couldn’t have loved her any more than I did, Doc. She was yours and she was perfect, and nothing could have made that moment better.”
“I wish we had known, too,” Marlena replied. “If only because her father must have missed too many moments after that first precious few. But, oh, am I glad you were there, John. I’m glad we could share that together, all three of us.” She pulled him closer, curling her hands behind his neck. “I’m glad we got our new beginning.”
“And *I’m* glad we’ve gotten another one.” He grimaced slightly. “I know I nearly screwed everything up royally, and I probably didn’t deserve another chance, but I’m incredibly grateful that you’ve given me one, Doc.”
Marlena’s answering smile was tender, and just the slightest bit ironic. “You’re my soulmate, John. I suppose that means you get as many chances as it takes.”
John hooked his fingers underneath her overall straps and pulled her toward him. “This is the last one I’ll need, though,” he vowed, punctuating his promise with a kiss. “I swear.”
“You do realize that I’m going to hold you to that, don’t you?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. He nodded agreeably, and she turned to contemplate the back of the couch for a moment. “I suppose it’s fitting, too, that she was born here on this couch. After all…” her lip quirked impishly, “…she got her start on a couch, too, didn’t she?” She grinned in remembrance of the soft leather settee on the Alamain jet, and how *accomodating* it had been.
John’s reply was a surprised chuckle. “I suppose she did, at that. Maybe the sofa is our lucky piece of furniture, do you think?”

Marlena pretended to consider that. “Maybe…though I’m kind of partial to conference tables, myself.”

John furrowed his brow, his lip twitching with the effort to suppress a lecherous smile. “Then I suppose – in the interests of science – that we should do a little more research to test my hypothesis, hmmm?”
She offered him a low, breathy chuckle. “Ooh, I love it when you get scientific, baby. Just what exactly did you have in mind, Mr. Black?” She leaned back against the arm of the couch and closed her eyes, drawing her arms up above her head to stretch sensuously. Her movements shouldn’t have been all that alluring – after all, she was wearing overalls and a loose t-shirt, not slinky lingerie. But their effect on John was nevertheless instantaneous – and very obvious, given the tightness of his jeans.
“What did I have in mind?” he repeated in a sexy drawl. “Why, only this…” He leaned forward to once again run his fingers under the straps of the overalls, trailing down to trace the swell and curve of her breasts through the rough cotton of her t-shirt. His reward was a half-stifled moan. “You like that, Doc?”
“Umm-hmm.” The snick of metal-on-metal made her open her eyes as he nimbly unhooked the straps. She moaned again when his hands delved deeper, and arched her back to prolong the sensation of his touch.
“It’s like unwrapping the best present ever made,” he murmured as he pulled his legs up onto the couch, drawing his knees up under him to give him better leverage. His body covered hers and pressed her back into the cushions.
She tugged his shirt out of his waistband and drew it up over his head. “Well, Happy Birthday, then,” she whispered, breathless, as she yanked the material away.
“But it’s not my birthday,” he objected mildly as he trailed his lips down her cheek to nibble on her ear.
“Then Merry Christmas,” she murmured thickly, running her hands over his muscled chest. “Happy Hanukkah…or Valentine’s Day…or something….”
“Tractor Appreciation Week,” he muttered, pulling her overalls down and slipping his fingers under the hem of her t-shirt. He captured her lips in a drugging kiss. “Dental Hygiene Month…”

Marlena arched away from the cushion and kicked the overalls off of her legs. “Leap Year…” She hooked her ankles behind his back, pulling her body flush against his. “Psychiatrist Adoration Day…”

He pulled her t-shirt over her head and nuzzled her breasts contentedly. “Priest Defloweration Month…” The clasp of her bra sprung free, and he shoved the scraps of fabric away. “Lime-Flavored Jello Used As a Sex Toy Day…”
Marlena jerked back with a giggle. “Those aren’t real holidays,” she protested, even as her fingers found the buttons on his jeans and unfastened them.
“Who cares?” he replied as she shoved the jeans down. He struggled briefly with the stiff fabric, before finally managing to kick it away. He turned back to her and was momentarily arrested by the sight of her naked beauty. “Were we talking?” he wondered breathlessly as his gaze devoured her beloved form.
“Whyever would we be doing that?” She reached for him. ***
Shawn laid a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder, his heart aching for the deep note of anguish in Roman’s voice as he had recounted the morning’s events. “I’m so sorry for everything you’ve lost, Roman. What are you going to do now, son?”
Roman chuckled – a low, pained sound. “I guess now I know it really *is* hopeless, if even *you* have given up.”
Shawn didn’t know what to say to that. “I’m sorry, son.” A brief silence fell, and lingered until Shawn could no longer bear it. “You know you’re always welcome here with me an’ your mom, right? We’d love to have you.”
Roman closed his eyes and bowed his head, then eventually nodded slowly. “I think I’ll take you up on that, Pop. Thanks.” ***

Kristen thanked the ferry driver with a five-dollar tip and a surly smile before she disembarked onto the Smith Island dock. She had been relieved to see John depart down the cabin path just moments earlier – picnic basket in hand – without even noticing her presence on the ferry deck. She supposed he had forgotten to take the basket along in his and Marlena’s initial eagerness to get to the cabin, because Kristen’s ferry had arrived at the island a good hour and a half after their

motorboat had left the docks. She had been surprised to see him, to say the least, though she had few illusions that overlooking the picnic basket had seriously disrupted their grand reunion. John had only been wearing a half-buttoned pair of jeans – sans shirt and shoes – as he had departed the dock, and she was depressingly certain of the significance of his dishabille.

Setting her mouth in a grim line, Kristen followed the path he had taken, her purse – and its deadly contents – clutched firmly in her hand. ***
“Doc?” John called as he reentered the cabin. He swung the picnic basket up onto the counter and carefully extracted a small cloth bag from inside. He hadn’t really wanted the basket per se – neither of them were very hungry, and the barbecue was only a few hours away. But he had wanted to surprise her with the contents of the bag. “Doc? Where are you?”
His query was met by silence, punctuated by the sounds of melodic birdcalls and rushing water wafting through the open back door. Water? He tucked the bag into his pocket and headed out the door, following the muted noise.
Marlena bowed her head and allowed the cool water to run down her hair to the ground. The fresh outdoor shower provided a delicious contrast to the heat of the day, and there was something almost freeing about being outside, unclothed – and in anxious anticipation of the reappearance of the man you loved. She grinned wickedly as the spray hit her face, eager for him to return and discover where she had gone.
A cheerful wolf-whistle brought her out of her reverie, and she turned to find John regarding her with a look of rapt appreciation. She smiled at him over the damp wood of the shower door. “Hey.”
“Hey, to you too, beautiful lady. Come here often?” He advanced toward her until he stood just outside the door. His height allowed him to peer downward into the shower, and she covered her chest with her hand in a display of sham modesty.
“Not that often.” Marlena tilted her head back to expose her creamy neck and licked her lips seductively. “Only when I’m feeling…*hot*…” She dribbled a few drops of water down her chest, and was rewarded by his audible swallow.

“I see.” His left hand slipped down to pluck the cloth bag from his pocket, while his right hand hastily unfastened the buttons of his fly. “Looks to me like you’re wasting a lot of water though,” he pointed out. “There’s a drought in the west, you know.”

She pretended surprise. “*No*, really? Oh, whatever should I do about that?”
He kicked his jeans away and reached for the door. “I think you should probably share that shower.” His gaze caught on her bare chest. “You should definitely share.”
Marlena reached over to hold the door closed. “You didn’t say the secret password,” she demurred, fluttering her eyelashes as she rubbed a hand across her belly enticingly.
He groaned with feeling, then affected a forlorn look. “But I don’t *know* the secret password,” he replied in a plaintive tone, before smacking his forehead with his palm. “But, *wait*, I have an idea. What if I paid a toll?”
“A toll?” She regarded him curiously. “What kind of toll?” He held up the bag, and her breath caught in her throat as he shook out its contents into his palm. “Oh, John.”
He eased the door open and slipped inside the shower, drawing her into his arms. “A token of my esteem,” he murmured, sliding the sparkling engagement ring onto the fourth finger of her left hand. “A sign of my pledge.” He kissed her softly. “A piece of my heart.”
Tears of joy flowed freely down her cheeks, mingling with the cool spray of the shower. She kissed him back, fervently, twining her arms around his neck and pulling her body flush against his. “Yes, yes, *yes*, YES!”
John maneuvered their joined bodies until they pressed against the wooden back wall of the shower. The water fell over them in a soothing cascade, not merely cool but cold now. They didn’t notice, so lost were they in each others arms and the sensations created between them.
Her hands slid up and down his back, squeezing and kneading his taut muscles as he bent his head to lavish his personal attention on her. Her harsh breathing sounded in his ear as he fought to retain control of himself long enough to bring her to her peak. “I love you, Marlena,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with desire.

She nearly whimpered at the pleasure he was creating with his magic fingers…and his mouth. “Love you,” she murmured, nearly incoherent, as she wrapped her legs around his waist. “Love you…”

Kristen watched the lovers at play from the back porch of the cabin. Bitter tears stung her eyes as she remembered the first time she and John had come to the Horton cabin – and the second, when they’d made love there. She could well remember the feel of him in her arms as the shower spray washed over them, the taste of him…the sounds he made as he found his fulfillment. Those memories had haunted her upon the occasion of her honeymoon with Tony, when he hadn’t understood why she’d objected to the cabin as a honeymoon destination. She’d overcome her reticence, and they’d made love together in the big, comfortable bed.
But not the shower. She had made sure of that, uncomfortably certain that she never could have managed to overcome those memories of John to give herself to her husband. But it was painfully, *painfully* obvious that John had no such concerns. As Kristen watched him lose himself in Marlena, she felt sick to her stomach, completely nauseated by a sudden realization.
He never, ever loved me.
Whirling on her heel, Kristen raced back through the cabin and out the
front door, the purse holding her forgotten gun banging painfully
against her hip. Her feet pelted down the path, and she halted only
once in her headlong flight toward the water, pausing just long enough
to fall to her knees and throw up in the bushes. She stumbled
immediately back to her feet and resumed her journey, not feeling
better in the least.
Chapter 85
Bart glanced uneasily at Kristen from his vantage point in the driver’s seat, wondering what in the hell was wrong with the woman. She hadn’t spoken a word to him since he’d picked her up at the DiMera mansion to take her for her latest visit with Stefano. She’d merely nodded apathetically and followed him out to the car, not bothering to change out of her baggy maternity sweats or smooth her mussed hair. She bore no resemblance to the sophisticated, smart, sly socialite he’d come to know and loathe, but for some reason, he found the change in her less than pleasant. She just doesn’t seem to care about living

anymore, he realized, and if that’s the case, we could both end up dead.

“Mrs. DiMera?” She kept her gaze fixed forward, her expression blank. “Mrs. DiMera, are you all right?”
She blinked and slowly turned to look at him. “I’m fine,” she replied in a dull, dead voice.
“Well, begging your pardon, *ma’am*, but you don’t *seem* fine. Did something happen?”
Her laugh was hollow and bitter. “No, nothing happened, Bart. Nothing
happened at all.”
***
Sami Brady stood in the center of her kitchen and contemplated the bags of frozen meat that lay in the center of the table. Hot dogs or hamburgers…hot dogs or hamburgers…hmm… Carrie had called earlier to tell her that she and Mike would be bringing ribs to barbecue, and Sami was a little concerned that she might have purchased too much extra food. The guest list was turning out to be a bit shorter than she had anticipated. Alice had informed her that Bo and Hope were off on a mysterious trip to New Orleans and not due back for another day, and then Kate had indicated Billie had followed them, before snidely refusing her invitation outright on her own and Lucas’ behalf. I suppose I could have tried a little harder to persuade her, Sami thought, feeling only mildly guilty that she had not. If Kate had known that the barbecue was a celebration of John and Marlena’s reconciliation, she definitely would have attended, in order to congratulate them in between making snarky comments to and about Sami. As far as Sami was concerned, any party was immeasurably improved by Kate Roberts’ absence, even if it meant Will’s father wouldn’t be there, either. Besides, she would have a chance to ask Lucas again when he dropped Will off in a little while – perhaps he would relent when not under the direct flared-nostril influence of his obnoxious mother. Yeah, right.

Sami frowned down at the CostClub packaging of her purchases, feeling slightly uneasy about her decision to buy ‘meat’ dogs and patties instead their ‘beef’ equivalents. Queasy tenth grade memories of the Upton Sinclair book “The Jungle” were making her imagination run away with her, and she silently wondered if it would be a good or a

bad idea to read the list of ingredients on the label first.

The ringing of the telephone interrupted her nauseating reverie. Somewhat relieved, she crossed to the wall phone and reached for the receiver. “Hello. Barbecue Central, baked beans a specialty.” “Sami, it’s your grandmother.”
Smiling, Sami picked up the bag of hamburger patties and tossed it into the freezer. “Hey, Grandma! I sure hope you guys are hungry – I think we’re going to have enough food to feed an army tonight.”
Caroline was silent for a moment. “That’s…um, that’s why I’m calling, sweetheart,” she replied hesitantly. “I’m afraid we won’t be able to make it to your party.”
Sami’s expression darkened with suspicion. “‘We’ who?”
“Well, um, your Grandfather and I…and your father.”
Sami scowled, angrily certain that she knew the reasoning behind their decision. “I suppose you had already given all the waitresses and bartenders the night off at the Pub, huh?” Her tone dripped sarcasm.
Caroline’s soft reply sounded faintly embarrassed. “Well, no. But, Sami, your father-”
“I didn’t expect *Dad* to come,” Sami interjected darkly. “I realize that he’s a little upset, and that’s understandable. But what I want to know is, why aren’t *you* coming?”
“We felt we should be here for Roman, dear.”
Sami rolled her eyes up at the ceiling. “Nice try, Grandma, but I know Daddy even better than you do. Right now, he’s sitting at your bar glaring down into a beer mug. He’s had…oh, three by now, I suppose. He’ll probably drink two more, then go upstairs to sleep it off. He won’t want to talk, he’ll resent your attempts to engage him in conversation, and he’ll hate it if you hover. But you’re going to do it, because Grandpa wants to make his point.”
She could hear Caroline’s sigh from down the line. “And what point is that, sweetheart?”
Sami rolled her eyes again. “That he thinks Mom made the wrong
choice, of course. So he won’t come tonight, because he wants them
to know his opinion without having to tell it to their faces. Because he
knows how stupid it really is!”
“Sami!” Caroline sounded appalled.
“I’m sorry, Grandma,” she replied, not really meaning it. “I know *you*

don’t want to hurt John and Mom’s feelings, but you have to know how much Grandpa’s attitude hurts them. How do you think John feels knowing that Grandpa basically dropped him off the Christmas list the moment Dad came home?”

“That’s not true, Sami,” Caroline said. But her tone lacked conviction. A delicious idea began to form in Sami’s mind. “It isn’t?” she asked, her tone baiting. “Care to prove it?”
Now Caroline’s voice was both wary and resigned. “How?”
“Well, I was talking to Carrie earlier about throwing John and Mom another engagement party – an *official* one – and we decided that the Pub would be a good place to have it. So if Grandpa *doesn’t* have a problem with it, you won’t mind letting us have the place for an evening next week, then, right?” Caroline hesitated to reply, and Sami continued sarcastically, “Or are you all booked up?”
“Oh, Sami.” Another resigned sigh, and then something that sounded almost like a tired chuckle. “All right, yes. You two decide the date tonight and let us know. *I’ll* handle your grandfather.”
“Fine,” Sami answered, slightly mollified by Caroline’s reply but confused as to why it mattered to her so much. She didn’t know what it was about her Grandfather’s attitude that struck such a deep painful chord within her…or do I? She tilted her head, considering. Maybe I do. Her Aunt Kayla and Uncle Bo’s secondary status to ‘Number One Son’ and ‘The Best and Brightest’ in Shawn’s eyes had always felt uncomfortably familiar to her. She’d come in second to Carrie with everyone nearly all her life, or so it seemed. But John had said he loved her just as much as he loved her sister…and she was beginning to believe him.
I’ll never do anything like that to Will’s siblings, should he ever be so lucky to have some. “I’ll tell Carrie the party’s on, then,” she concluded, bidding her grandmother goodbye. She hung up the phone and turned back to her meat. But before she could open the package, the doorbell rang. “Coming!”
The front door opened to reveal Don, holding a smiling Belle, Brady standing next to him. “Got a delivery for ya, lady,” Don said in a tough guy drawl, eliciting a giggle from Brady. Marlena’s ex-husband smoothed Belle’s hair, his expression a bit wistful. The little girl stared up at him with huge blue eyes for a moment before finally squirming to

be let down, and he reluctantly lowered her to the floor.

“Hey, you two,” Sami grinned, kneeling down to give each of them a hug. “Didja have fun over at Grandma Alice’s?”
The both nodded vigorously. “We ate Play-Doh!” Brady declared, holding up blue fingers.
“Not too much, I hope,” Sami replied, “or you’ll be too full to eat a hamburger. Why don’t you two run upstairs and wash your hands, and then I’ll let you put the drinks into the cooler.”
Don smiled at Sami as the children raced for the stairs. “Very clever, the way you managed to make manual labor sound like a privilege.” She grinned back at him. “I know, I know, I truly have a gift. Sometimes I even amaze myself.” She motioned for him to follow her back into the kitchen. “I guess you were over at the Horton Center, hmm?” she commented as the door swung shut behind them.
He nodded. “We were over to tell Alice the good news – Jack’s a free man as of this afternoon.”
“Wow, that’s great,” Sami exclaimed, “Jennifer must be over the moon! I didn’t realize that was a possibility, even. You must be a really good lawyer.”
Don offered her a mock scowl. “You mean, your mother hasn’t told you about the incredible genius who is her ex-husband?”
“Let me think. Um, I think she said you were, um… very…very…” she grinned impishly, “…*tall*. Yup, that’s it – *tall*.”
Don mimed being shot in the heart. “Ooh, direct hit. My ego may never recover. So…what’s going on here? Are you opening your own grocery store?”
“No, sorry, didn’t you hear?” she replied, opening a bag of potato chips. “We’re having a Horton-Brady barbecue tonight – though, unfortunately, it’s looking like it will be a bit heavier on Hortons than Bradys.” Her voice turned peevish on her final words.
Don looked momentarily puzzled by Sami’s sour tone. “Why’s that?” he asked, reaching for a potato chip.
Sami began to pull a selection of economy-sized condiments from a bag. “Well, tonight’s sort of a celebration, you see,” she told him. “A celebration that *some* members of my family aren’t too thrilled about.” She glanced over at him, her expression indicating that she cared little for their opinion. “Mom and John are back together.”

The chip was arrested mid-way to his mouth. “Wha-” he coughed, then swallowed, visibly stunned. “What?”

Her brow furrowed at his extreme reaction. “Mom and John are back together,” she repeated.
“I-” he began, “What- *Why*? I mean, I just spoke to Marlena yesterday. She said it was over between them for good.”
“I know,” Sami replied, shrugging, “that’s what they both said, repeatedly. But it doesn’t matter. You’ve got to understand something, Mr. Craig – Mom and John just *can’t* stay away from each other.” Her last words held a touch of irony.
He tilted his head to the side and studied her expression. “And you’re okay with that?”
Sami shrugged again and looked away, staring fixedly into one of the grocery bags. “Well, people who can’t stay away from one another should probably marry each other, shouldn’t they? I mean, it saves wear and tear on everyone else, right?”
Don considered that for a moment. “So you’re saying you wouldn’t prefer for your mother to be with your father, because you could never be sure she wouldn’t want to be with John instead?”
Sami kept her back to him as she opened the refrigerator. “You said it, I didn’t,” she replied, her voice muffled as she reached for the pickle jar near the back. She straightened up, closed her eyes and shook her head. “I didn’t mean that,” she admitted softly after a moment, turning to face him. “Look, Mr. Craig, don’t try to analyze me, okay? Not even Mom has been able to figure me out, and she’s a shrink. Let’s just say that on most days I feel happy for them, and on the rest of them I feel sorry for me. But *tonight*,” she continued, slamming down the pickle jar for emphasis, “*tonight* I’m in the mood to celebrate – and barbecue various meatlike products. You’re welcome to come, of course.”
Don shook his head. “Um, no, I don’t think so. But thanks for the invitation.”
Sami cocked her head to the side and studied his face. “Are you having a schizo moment, too? You don’t look too happy about the news, either. I thought you were all for Mom and John.”
He shrugged uncomfortably. “I don’t *know* John. But from what Marlena has told me…”

“Yes?” Sami prompted.

“Things between them just seem…oh, I don’t know, unnecessarily *complicated*, that’s all. It sounds like he’s hurt her a lot in the past, not that she said so in so many words.”
She chewed her lower lip. “Well, I think you could say vice versa, too. And as for *complicated*, I think we can thank Stefano DiMera for most of that. He’s really stuck it to all of us.” She shook her head. “In fact, you have to hand it to both of them, really – not many couples could have come through all of that and still want to be together.” Don looked away. “I suppose.”
Sami raised her eyebrows. “What’s the deal, Mr. Craig?” she asked jokingly. “You’re not still in love with my Mom, are you? Over two decades is kind of a long time to carry a torch.” “*What*? No, of *course* not!”
Sami was taken aback by the force of his reply. She held up her hands in an ‘I surrender’ gesture. “Hey, I was just joking, really. You don’t have to worry about Mom, okay? John is completely nuts about her, and they both want to make a family for the kids.”
Don lowered his eyes and stared down at the kitchen table. “She’s a beautiful little girl,” he murmured after a moment, sounding wistful, almost sad. “She looks just like Marlena.”
“Yeah, lucky her,” Sami replied. “Anyway, the invitation to the party is still open, but I’ve got to get started here, okay? Carrie’s going to be here in a few minutes.”
As if on cue, the front door opened. “Sami?” Carrie called. “We’re here!”
“In the kitchen!” Sami shouted back. “It’s about time you got here, you lazy people.”
“Oh, stuff it!” Carrie replied cheerfully as she backed through the kitchen door carrying a huge bowl of what looked to be potato salad. “It’s not my fault, anyway,” she added as Mike followed her inside, large tray in hand. “Mike’s a rib connoisseur or something. It took him an hour to pick out the meat.”
“Ha ha,” Mike put in sarcastically. “Hey, Don, how’s it going?”
“It’s going,” Don replied. “If you’ll go on over Alice’s, your family has a bit of good news for you.”
“I know,” Mike told him, smiling broadly. “Jen called me earlier from up

on cloud nine. You and Dad, a legal Dream Team. Who’d have thunk it?”

Don punched his arm playfully. “Anyone with the least bit of knowledge about law, ingrate. Besides, I *carried* Mickey.” He ducked a return punch from Mike. “And now *I* have to be going. I’ll see all of you later.”
“Bye, Don,” Carrie said. “Oh, by the way, we’re throwing an engagement party for Marlena and John one night next week. You won’t be leaving town before then, will you? I know Marlena would want you there.”
Don’s easy smile disappeared. “I don’t know, I’ll have to see. I hope you have a nice party.” He nodded to them, then turned and pushed the kitchen door open.
“Bye,” they chorused as it swung shut behind him. Carrie stared after him, her brow furrowed in puzzlement. “Well, that was weird.”
“What?” Mike asked, yelping in protest as Sami slapped his hand away from the potato chips and snatched up the bag. “Didn’t Don’s reaction seem strange to you?”
Mike shrugged, but Sami nodded, shooting Mike a triumphant smirk as she chomped on a chip. “I don’t think he’s happy for them,” she mumbled through the crumbs.
Carrie raised her eyebrows. “Why wouldn’t he be?”
“You got me,” Sami replied diffidently; then, pointing to the foil-covered tray Mike had placed on the table, asked, “Are those the ribs?”

Mike nodded. “Already sauced. Nirvana, just waiting to be cooked.” “Well, that’ll be your job, O Great Chef,” Sami told him as Brady and Belle burst into the kitchen. “And here come the two munchkins who’ll be in charge of the drinks.”
Carrie swept Belle up into her arms and rubbed their noses together, causing the little girl to giggle happily. “Is that true? Are you in charge?” Belle nodded vigorously. “Well, I want an iced tea, okay? Pretty please with sugar on top.”
Belle grinned and wrapped her arms around her sister’s neck. “‘Kay.” The doorbell rang, and Sami sighed loudly. “Geez, it’s Grand Central Station here today. I hope that’s Lucas here to drop off Will. I wanted a chance to ask him to the party without Kate breathing fire from over his shoulder. Not that the idea of him glaring at me across the lawn all

night gives me any particular thrill, but I think he should be here for Will.”

“Tell you what,” Carrie said, settling Belle against her hip, “I will go persuade Lucas to grace us with his presence. *You*-” she grinned wickedly “-and *Mike* can finish getting the food ready.”
“Gee, *thanks*.” Carrie and Belle departed the kitchen through a chorus of Sami and Mike’s cheerful grumbling.
But when Carrie opened the door, it wasn’t Lucas on the doorstep. Carrie smiled uncertainly at the older woman standing on the porch, who stared back at her with wide eyes, trembling faintly. Her long, dark hair was slightly mussed, and her tailored blouse and slacks were sharply creased, as though she had worn them for several days. In her arms she held a large cloth doll with yellow yarn hair.
Carrie felt Belle’s arms tighten around her neck and she gave the little girl a reassuring hug, knowing of her wariness with strangers. She didn’t blame the child for her apprehension – the woman was regarding Belle with barely concealed hunger.
“Can I help you?” Carrie asked, breaking the spell. Belle buried her face in her sister’s shoulder.
The woman swallowed. “Ye-…um, yes, please. I need to-…I’m looking for Dr. Evans.”
“She’s not here right now,” Carrie replied. “But she should be home soon. You could wait for her, if you like.” She rather hoped the other woman wouldn’t take her up on the offer, but she felt obligated to make it. The woman looked to be at the end of her rope.
She closed her eyes and bit her lip, pulling the doll more tightly against her chest. “I-…no, no, that’s all right. Just tell her…tell her thank you, okay?”
Carrie frowned. “Thank you?” She held out a hand to stop the woman when she turned to leave. “Wait a minute. Thank you for what? Who are you?”
The woman flinched at her touch, pulling away and clutching the doll even more tightly to her chest. A few salty tears escaped to streak down her cheek. “I-” she swallowed and shook her head miserably, “I can’t-…just, just tell her that I know she did her best, okay?” She opened her eyes to gaze imploringly at Carrie. “She did everything she could – everything *anybody* could. Tell her, okay? Please, just

tell her.” Before Carrie could react, the woman darted forward to caress Belle’s cheek with trembling fingers. The little girl flinched and pulled away, and Carrie turned her shoulder to the woman, taking Belle out of her reach.

“Hey, wait a-” Carrie began indignantly, but the woman had vanished out the doorway. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she murmured, rubbing Belle’s back to calm her. “It’s okay. She’s gone.” She closed the door and locked it, emphasizing her point. After a moment, Belle nodded against her neck.
The ringing of the phone made both of them start. Carrie managed a weak laugh. “Boy, we’re jumpy today, aren’t we? It’s just the phone, honey.”
“Could you answer that, Carrie? Our hands are kind of full in here!” Sami’s shout was muffled by the kitchen door.
“No problem,” Carrie called as she reached for the receiver on the
table next to the couch. “Hello?”
“Carrie?”
“Eric!” she exclaimed. “Ohmigod, Eric, is that you?”
He laughed. “It hasn’t been *that* long, Carrie, give me a break.” “Yes, it *has* been that long,” she objected. “You’re *never* there when I call Grandma and Grandpa in Colorado. Is that where you are?” A sudden, horrible thought struck her. “Nothing’s wrong, is it?” “No, no, they’re fine, as far as I know,” he replied. “What do you mean, ‘as far as you know’?”
“Well, I’m not in Colorado,” he explained. “I’m sort of…traveling, I guess – I have been since I graduated.”
“What? Why didn’t they tell us? Why didn’t *you* tell us? Are you alone? What-”
“Whoa, wait, slow down. What’s with the third degree?”
“*Eric*,” she replied, exasperated.
“Okay, okay. Look, I asked Grandma and Grandpa to keep it quiet because I didn’t want anyone to hassle me about going off by myself, and I figured Mom and Dad had enough to worry about without thinking about me. I’ve just been riding around on my bike, seeing the sights. Right now I’m in Texas visiting a friend – he’s in grad school here at A&M.”
“You’re riding a motorcycle through Texas in the middle of a heat

wave? Geez, Eric, you’re supposed to be the brilliant one!”

“I am. You should see my tan.”
“Very funny. So, tell me…why are you calling?”
“No special reason. Just wanted to check in, see what was up. The last time I talked to Grandma Evans, she said that Mom and the kids were moving back to the Penthouse.”
Carrie smoothed Belle’s hair and smiled at her. “Well, that’s old news –
and *wrong*.”
“They’re not moving?”
“No, they are, but not to the Penthouse. Marlena and John are back together, and they, the kids, and Sami and Will are moving into the new house next week.”
A small silence fell. Carrie could hear the sound of Eric’s breathing down the line. “They’re back together,” he repeated in an unreadable tone.
“Yes.” She tickled Belle, and the little girl giggled. “In fact, we’re having a Horton-Brady barbecue to celebrate tonight, and Sami and I are throwing them an engagement party next week.” “Oh…well, whatever. What’s that noise?”
“That’s our little sister being attacked by the Tickle Monster. Aren’t you? Aren’t you, Belle baby?” The little girl’s giggles exploded into full-fledged laughter, and she squirmed in Carrie’s arms. “Do you want to talk to her?”
Belle nodded eagerly, but Eric declined the offer. “No, that’s all right, I really should hang up. I don’t want to run up my friend’s long-distance bill. Just…tell everyone hello.”
“All right,” Carrie agreed slowly, wondering at the odd note in his voice. “Are you going to hang out in Texas a while longer, or are you moving on?”
“I don’t know. Look, Carrie, I have to go. I’ll talk to you soon, okay? Bye.” He hung up.
Carrie frowned at the receiver, and then at Belle. “Hmm, he was acting weird, too, wasn’t he? Maybe there’s something going around.” She put the receiver back into the cradle and hitched Belle higher on her hip. “Let’s go help Brady with the drinks, okay?” They re-entered the kitchen in sisterly accord.
***

Stefano eyed his daughter with both deep concern and mounting impatience. She sat slumped in the chair next to his bed, her gaze fixed on the floor, her answers to his questions mere uninformative monosyllables. Her soulless apathy reminded him uncomfortably of the pathetic creature her mother Rachel had become, and he tried to stifle his growing contempt. *Where* the *hell* is my daughter?

Finally, after long minutes of more non-conversation, his temper exploded. “Dammit, Kristen! What is *wrong* with you?” She barely flinched. “Nothing,” came her soft reply.
“Don’t tell me *nothing*. I am not stupid, you know. I can see that something is troubling you a great deal. *Talk* to me.”
Her attention suddenly snapped to his face. “Why?” she spat. “Why should I? What the hell can *you* do about it?”
She was no longer apathetic, but he didn’t find her new attitude all that much of an improvement. “Do not speak to me in that tone of voice, young lady. I am your father, and you will treat me with respect.”
“Why?” she repeated, her tone fairly dripping scorn. “Because you are
the great, powerful Stefano DiMera, master of all you survey?” Out of
the corner of her eye, she could see the color drain from Bart’s face at
her gall, but she no longer cared about the danger. “That is such a
*joke*, Stefano. You *never*, EVER win! *I* never win. No matter
what, we *never* get what we want, or who we want, and we always
end up alone! So forgive me if I don’t tell you all my troubles and let
Daddy make them all better, because I’m not buying it anymore, okay?

Just lay *off*!” She shot up out of her chair and stomped furiously
toward the door.
“Kristen-”
“*NO!*” she shouted, whirling around. “You just don’t *get* it, do you? It’s *OVER*!”
“*What* is over?” he shot back, exasperated.
“*EVERYTHING!*” she shrieked. “*ALL* of it – my *family*, my *future*, my *LIFE*!” She stalked back toward the bed, her hands fisted at her sides, her eyes flashing with fury. “Everyone I’ve ever loved is *gone*! What do you want from me? Why can’t you just leave me the *HELL* alone!?!” Her scowl darkened into something black and ugly, and her voice turned into a hiss. “So you think you want to know what’s going on, do you? Well, then, listen up, because I’m only

going to say it once!” She leaned over the bed, speaking directly into his face in a singsong voice. “They’re back together, Stefano. John and Marlena are back together, and they’re probably making love at this very moment.”

He stared at her, appalled. “No…”
“Yesssss. Oh, yes. I saw them, you see. I watched him kiss her, and touch her…and worship her with his hands. I *heard* him say he loved her, and I saw him put the ring on her finger.” Her low, angry words struck him repeatedly like a whip. “They’re going to be married, and live together, and raise their children together, and love each other…and there is *nothing* you – or anybody – can do about it. *Nothing*!”
She glared at him one last time, turned on her heel, and stalked out of the room. Bart shot Stefano a frightened look and hurried after her. Slowly Stefano’s fingers released their death grip on the comforter, and the roiling anger in his stomach subsided into ice. “Don’t bet on it, Kristen,” he muttered, his voice low and menacing. “Don’t bet on it.” Chapter 86
Sami smiled at Will as she watched him shovel another spoonful of potato salad into his mouth. “You like that, don’t you? Aunt Carrie makes good potato salad, doesn’t she?” The easy compliment slipped from her lips without consideration, and she fell silent for a moment, stunned. What the hell? For so long, the first emotion that she had always felt when it came to Carrie had been bitterness – bitterness from years of coming in second to her, from always being an afterthought in everyone else’s eyes. Carrie Brady’s little sister. There had been times in her life when she’d felt it might as well have been her name.
When did that change? she wondered as she offered Will a mouthful of baked beans.
“Sami?” Austin’s voice brought her out of her reverie as he walked up to their table.
“Yes?” she replied, shifting Will to her other knee to avoid having to look up at him. Making eye contact with Austin had become a difficult proposition after the truth about Will’s paternity had been revealed. He must hate me *so* much.
“Have you seen Carrie?”

Anger thinned her lips and dissolved her guilt. The merest glance around the backyard revealed several people more likely to know of Carrie’s whereabouts than her somewhat estranged sister – John, Marlena, Laura, Alice, unexpected arrivals Bo and Hope…even Belle or Brady. But, of course, Austin had to make a *point* of asking her.

“No, I haven’t, Austin,” she replied, offering him a smile that was all teeth and no feeling. “Maybe you should ask Mike,” she added in a sugary sweet tone. He shifted on his feet as she finally looked up at his face, to find that it held an expression of mixed anger and chagrin. The desire to gloat overwhelmed her, spurred on by the unwelcome return of being designated second best. “I *told* you she always had a crush on him, Austin. You should have listened to me, cut your losses and saved yourself the heartache.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he muttered angrily as he swiped a hand through his hair. “You wouldn’t know the truth if it slapped you in the face.”
“You got *that* right,” Lucas chimed in as walked up to pluck his son from her lap. “Not that a slap wouldn’t do you some good.” Will went into his arms somewhat reluctantly, shooting a longing gaze toward Austin. Sami felt an unwelcome pang of shame when she saw the look on her son’s face. She could well remember the sort of confusion a child felt when confronted by two fathers, and her renewed guilt further loosened her tongue.
“Oh, shut up, Lucas,” she remarked in as friendly a tone as she could manage, smiling at Will affectionately. “You’re just bitter because Carrie prefers *both* of your brothers to *you*. But, then, who could blame her? After all, Mike is a *true* Horton, a doctor, and the object of her lifelong crush. What chance would a weasel like you stand against a man like that?” With that parting blow to both of them, she stood up, kissed Will on the cheek, and vanished through the back door into the kitchen.
Lucas glared after her, his shoulders rigid with anger. Will squirmed uncomfortably against his chest. “Can you believe that bitch?”
“Don’t talk like that in front of Will,” Austin admonished him. “Sami’s his mother, after all. Here, give him to me.”
“Not a chance,” Lucas fumed, turning his shoulder to Austin and pulling Will out of reach. “I am sick of you trying to confuse my son

about who his father is. And don’t you dare defend Sami to me. God, Austin, what is *wrong* with you? When will you wake up and smell the coffee? She’s *won*, man. You have *lost* Carrie, and she’s ruined *both* our lives!”

“I haven’t lost Carrie,” Austin returned grimly. “And I will always be in Will’s life – Sami will see to it, no matter what you say.”
Lucas scowled at him. “That’s what you think, brother. Looks to me like she’s halfway to getting over you. And if you thought it was a pain being the object of her obsession, try being her enemy.” He turned to gaze reflectively toward the kitchen door. “Sometimes I think we’d all be better off if Sami just…*vanished* from our lives.” His expression turned speculative.
Austin didn’t notice. He rolled his eyes and muttered, “Yeah, fat chance. I’m going to go find Carrie.”
“Tell Mike I said hello,” Lucas called after Austin’s retreating back. He was rewarded by the visible tensing of his half-brother’s shoulders, and the sight brought a smile to his lips. He glanced down at Will. “Do you want ice cream, buddy?”
Will stared up at him with wide, solemn eyes, and said nothing. ***
“I think you should dance a little closer to me,” John murmured into Marlena’s ear as they swayed back and forth to the music. The back corner of the yard had been designated for a dance floor, a square of grass surrounded by the light of cheerful Chinese lanterns. The music was soft and low – ballads instead of rock-and-roll, a concession to the small size of the dance floor as well as the musical tastes of its occupants. Mickey and Maggie and Abe and Lexie were taking advantage of the opportunity to hold each other, and John could have sworn he’d even seen Mickey steal a long, languorous kiss, though the mounting shadows made it hard to be certain.
Marlena tightened her arms around his waist. “If I dance any closer to you I’ll be inside your clothes with you,” she murmured, pressing a kiss against his t-shirt covered chest.
“I could get behind that,” he chuckled, tightening his own embrace. Her low laugh sent shivers down his spine. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you.” She rewarded his answer by rubbing enticingly against his chest, and he responded with a swift, yet thorough kiss.

“And for barbecued spareribs,” she teased him as she tasted the flavor of barbecue. “I swear you ate an entire rack of them all by yourself.”

“Well,” he drawled, “*some*body forced me to burn a *lot* of calories today. I’m a growing boy – I need to keep up my strength. For, um, *work*…and other things…”
She smothered a laugh against his chest as they drifted lazily toward the far hedge. He rubbed his hands up and down her back, visualizing the smooth skin hidden underneath the denim of her overalls. Dangerous thoughts, John, he reminded himself. Not quite appropriate for a dance floor in front of family and friends and impressionable children. He smiled over at Brady and Belle, who were absorbed in a game of croquet with Jack, Jennifer, Alice and Abby.
“Look,” he murmured to Marlena, who turned her head in time to see Alice urge Bo and Hope out onto the dance floor, a sweet smile concealing what were doubtlessly machinations Machiavelli would have admired. Bo looked slightly confused but willing enough, while Hope shot her grandmother a look of beseeching dismay over her shoulder. Franco Kelly regarded them balefully from over by the gate. John wasn’t entirely clear on why the man was at the party, but he appeared to have tagged along with Hope. Whatever the situation, the Italian certainly didn’t seem happy about the prospect of Hope enjoying a dance with her ex-husband.
“It’s a good thing Kate’s not here to see this,” Marlena whispered. “I can just imagine the scene she would cause. Although it does seem strange that Billie’s not here – didn’t she go to New Orleans to be with Bo?”
“They apparently missed each other,” John told her. “Bo seemed surprised not to find her here.” He smoothed her hair and kissed the top of her head. “Oh, that whole situation sure is a mess, isn’t it?”
Marlena nodded against his chest. “But I believe Bo and Hope will eventually be together,” she murmured after a moment. “I believe their love will win out in the end.”
“It’s not our place to interfere, I know. But…I hope you’re right. I know that’s what Bo wants.” He closed his eyes. “But I feel bad for Billie, I really do.”
“Because of Kristen?” There was no censure in her tone, but John felt

the accusation nonetheless.

An unwelcome wave of guilt washed over him. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Because of Kristen. She and Billie are really in the same horrible boat, aren’t they? Each of them pregnant by a man head-over-heels in love with someone else, who just didn’t have the guts to mention it beforehand. I think Bo and I both probably deserve a swift kick in the butt – at *least* – for everything we’ve done to them…and to you and Hope.”
She chuckled softly at his rueful tone and ran her hands up his chest to curl around his neck. “Well, maybe you can administer one to each other later, but be sure to tell me if you do, all right? I’d like to watch.”
Gratitude overwhelmed him at her generosity. He knew she would have been justified in reacting to his situation with Kristen the way Hope had reacted to Bo’s with Billie – cutting off contact, attempting to keep him out of her life. He felt an overwhelming urge to kiss her for her willingness, gave the prospect a moment’s consideration – and then proceeded to do so, with her enthusiastic cooperation. ***

“Would you like some help?”
Sami looked up from her artful arrangement of lettuce, tomatoes and pickles to see Franco Kelly standing in the doorway leading from the kitchen to the backyard. His thickly accented voice made the question somewhat hard to understand, but she got the gist of it. “No, thanks, I’ve got it.”
“You should be outside enjoying your party. I heard Mrs. Horton say
you arranged most of it yourself. And I must say, you did a wonderful
job.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
He seemed to have expected a more effusive response from her, and looked momentarily nonplussed by her lack of enthusiasm. “Well, after you’ve finished here,” he finally said, gesturing to the tray of hamburger accessories, “would you like to dance?” Her eyebrows flew up in surprise. “With you?”
He smiled winningly. “Of course, with me. I would love to dance with you.” He drew out the word, turning it into ‘laaahv’.
Yeah, right, Sami thought, her earlier depression returning. She could see Kate’s fine hand all over this little romantic moment. “Tired of

watching Aunt Hope with Uncle Bo?” she quipped sarcastically as she began slicing another onion.

“I don’t know what you mean,” he replied as he eased his way inside the kitchen.
Sami rolled her eyes. “Uh-huh, right. Give me a break.”
“‘Ope is my friend,” he insisted. “I just want her to be happy.”
“And Bo’s not the man to make her happy, is that it?” She piled the onions on the tray and reached for the pickle jar. “Look, *Frahnk-o*, you don’t have a clue, all right? There’s no way in hell you’ll get Hope away from Bo, no matter *what* tricks you and Kate play. Give it up already.”
He tensed visibly. “I don’t know what you mean,” he repeated, stammering over the words.
Oh, for God’s sake… “Stop treating me like a fool!” she burst out, slamming the jar of pickles on the table for emphasis. “I know all about your little arrangement with Kate to get Bo for Billie! And *I* know that *you* know that *I* know. Did Kate order you to suck up to me to keep me in line or something? God, how stupid does she think I am?” She leaned forward on her hands, pinning him with a glare. “Look, the only reason I haven’t blown you out of the water is that I *need* something to hold over her head to keep her away from Will. *And* I happen to believe that Uncle Bo and Aunt Hope will be together regardless of what you do to keep them apart. Kate and I have got ourselves a nice little stalemate going, and I’m not going to do anything to rock the boat. So run on back to her and tell her everything is status quo…and leave me the *hell* alone!”
He stared at her silently for a moment, not even blinking. Then, without a word, he turned and left the house.
The small part of her that had been hoping he – or anyone, really – might actually have been interested in her for her own sake died a quick, painful death. “Who needs love, anyway?” she muttered under her breath. She hefted the tray in her arms and headed for the door, catching sight of John and her mother through the screen as she reached for the doorhandle. They were intertwined in each other’s arms, completely oblivious to the rest of the world. She could just make out the expression on John’s face – a beaming smile of pure, unadulterated, worshipful bliss. Kind of like the expression Roman

wore when he looked at Marlena, or the expression that both Mike and Austin evinced upon seeing Carrie…the kind of look that no one in her entire life had ever bestowed upon Sami.

Suddenly what was left of her festive spirit drained away, and she simply wanted the rest of the evening to be over with as soon as possible. Will, came the knee-jerk longing reaction. I need my little boy.
She backed through the door, dropped the tray down on the table and scanned the backyard, spying her son ensconced on Maggie’s lap, enjoying a post-hamburger popsicle. He looked very happy underneath his great-uncle Mickey’s watchful eye, and she wondered where Lucas had gotten off to. Probably following Austin following Carrie following Mike, she concluded with the equivalent of a mental snort. The blind following the blind following the annoyingly self-sacrificing… She ran a hand through her hair and tried to shake off her newfound pique. I can’t even enjoy a party anymore…
“Would you like to dance?” a voice asked from behind her. She turned to find Mike regarding her expectantly. “Wh-what?” she stuttered, genuinely surprised.
“I asked if you would like to dance,” Mike repeated, gesturing toward corner of the backyard. She turned to see Austin and Carrie gliding onto the dance floor next to her mother and John, and her expression darkened. A substitute again…
She turned back to Mike, a scathing retort on the tip of her tongue, but
Mike’s expression was both friendly and guileless. Maybe I should
give him the benefit of the doubt. Oh, *hell*… She sighed, then finally
nodded. “Sure, why not?”
***
Roman strolled slowly through Salem University park, his shoulders slumped, his mind more on the scene he had left behind at the Pub than the path through the greenery ahead. Perhaps staying with his parents wasn’t such a good idea…. Losing Marlena to John was bad
enough – but he suspected the aftermath of her decision was going to be excruciatingly painful. His mother’s pity-filled sympathy and his father’s Old World stiff-upper-lip homilies had been a combination too humiliating to bear, especially with his mother’s not-entirely-underlying tone of ‘you-have-to-admit-you-asked-for-it’. He didn’t need her

admonishment to remind him of all he’d done wrong when it came to Marlena – the memories themselves ran through his brain like an unending film loop. And now she and John were back together…and John was living a life of which Roman could only dream. With Marlena, Roman’s children…and Belle…

He wasn’t quite sure what it was about the woman that first caught his attention and interrupted his depressing chain of thought. She was simply sitting on one of the park benches, not making a sound, her head bowed down low over her chest, her hair falling in a concealing curtain about her face. She wore a pair of navy sweats stretched over a visibly swollen stomach, and her shoulders shook with silent sobs. “Kristen? Is that you?”
***
“I don’t know about you, but I’m about ready to kick all the rest of these people out,” John leaned over and whispered to Marlena, before Brady tugged on his hand to bring his attention back to their game of horseshoes. They had lined up for boys against girls, which gave the Marlena/Sami/Belle combo a large advantage over the John/Brady/Will contingent, as Will couldn’t really manage to throw one yet, even with his mother’s help. Brady accepted his team’s handicap philosophically, however, and was having a fine time pitting himself against his little sister.
Belle flung her final horseshoe and let out a squeal of delight as it clanged against the metal pole. Marlena scooped her up to give her a congratulatory kiss. “Good job, baby!”
“I won, Momma,” she giggled delightedly. “I won!”
“Yes, you did. You are a champion horseshoe thrower.”
“I’ll say,” Mike put in as he approached the family group, Austin and Carrie close on his heels. The three of them had just finished stacking the folding chairs up against the back wall, while Alice, Maggie and Mickey stored the remains of their feast in two large coolers. “I’ve got to get going, I have an early shift tomorrow. Great party, Sami, really.” “Thanks,” she said, offering him a slight smile as she bounced Will in her arms. “And thanks for the dance.”
“No, thank *you*. I guess I’ll see all of you at the engagement party, then, if not before. And in case I forgot to say it before – congratulations, you two, I’m very happy for you.” He offered them one

final wave before heading around the corner of the house, pausing for only a moment to kiss his grandmother goodbye.

“We’re going, too,” Carrie said as she watched him leave. Austin followed her gaze, a sour expression on his face. “My boss is a slave driver who docks my pay when I’m late.” She ducked a playful punch from John. “I’ll call you tomorrow to finalize the party arrangements, okay, Sami?”
“Sure,” Sami replied tonelessly. “Bye.” Carrie looked startled by her cool response for a moment, then shrugged it off. She gave Belle and Brady each a goodbye kiss.
Austin slipped a proprietary arm around Carrie’s shoulders as they turned to go. Marlena noticed that Sami kept her gaze studiously averted from the pair; she nudged John’s shoulder to draw his attention to her daughter’s reaction. He nodded grimly and reached down to lift his son into his arms. “Hey, you guys, I have a *great* idea.” Brady and Belle both looked up expectantly. “What would you think about having a campout?”
Their immediate cheers were drowned out by Marlena’s protest – “John, it’s supposed to *rain* later.”
He held up a hand. “I know, I know, I don’t mean that kind of campout. I was just thinking that it’s about time we broke in the new house a little. I know the beds haven’t been delivered yet, but just about everything else is ready. Why don’t we try it out tonight? We can have a sleepover.” Brady and Belle nodded enthusiastically, and Sami managed a small smile, unwilling to spoil their fun. “What do you think, Sami?” John asked.
She shrugged. “Sounds fine, I guess, as long as the electricity is on and the plumbing is working. I refuse go camping without flush toilets.” Marlena reached over to give her a one-armed hug. “A woman after my own heart. No, everything’s ready to go except for the beds. The company had to re-order the mattresses and they won’t be here until next week.”
Sami’s depression wasn’t proof against Belle and Brady’s excitement.
“Well, okay, then. Let’s get going.”
***
Kristen looked up at Roman with tear-filled eyes, her lips trembling with repressed sobs. Her cheeks were damp and flushed, and her

shoulders were slumped with fatigue. “Roman,” she stated dully. He sat down next to her one the bench. “Kristen, are you all right?” “Gee, *there’s* a question,” she replied through a watery chuckle. “No, I’m *not* all right, are you?”

“Oh,” he sighed. “I guess you heard, then.”
She couldn’t keep the bitterness from her tone. “It’s not like they’re trying to hide it.”
He shook his head. “No, I suppose not, but it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours yet.”
Kristen tossed her hair over her shoulder and scrubbed at the tearstains on her cheeks. “Good news travels fast, I guess.”
Roman eyed her sympathetically, feeling a bit selfish and petulant. As much as I had to lose by this happening, she had still more, he realized as he stared down at her swollen belly. God, what a pathetic pair we make. “Well, then, are you *going* to be all right?”
Kristen closed her eyes and tilted her head back. “Now that there’s not a chance in hell for John and me, you mean?” Or you and Marlena came the unspoken corollary.
“Yeah, that’s what I mean,” he replied flatly. “Will you and the baby be all right?”
Her lips tightened as she averted her gaze. “You know something, Roman?” she muttered after a moment. “I *really* don’t want to talk about this with *you* of all people.”
He frowned. “Why *not* me? I probably understand your situation better than anyone.”
She snorted. “*Understand* it? You *caused* it!”
His mouth fell open. “What in the world are you talking about?”
She turned to face him, her lip twisting bitterly. “You and your damn
pride,” she spat. “I don’t have any anymore, did you know that? Not
only have I lost John, my entire family, and the future I wanted more
than anything – I have lost *every* single scrap of pride I ever had.
And you know what? I’m *glad*!”
“What? *Why*?”
“Because I know that I didn’t hold anything back! At least I know that I did *everything* I possibly could to give my baby girl the future she deserved! At least I know I didn’t let a stupid thing like pride tear my family apart.”

He averted his gaze, swallowing furiously. “I…I didn’t-”

“You’re not going to say you didn’t do that, are you?” she retorted in scathing tones, “Because we both know that is *exactly* what you did. *All* you had to do was swallow a little pride, get over your *damn* delusion that you had to be the only man Marlena had *ever* loved, and allow her to crawl on hands and knees over broken glass to beg you for your forgiveness.” She leaned toward him, her breath hot on his face. “She would have done it, you know that, right? She would have done *anything* to make it up to you! But you wouldn’t let her, you had to *punish* her by leaving her behind to wallow in her guilt.” She rolled her eyes. “And, boy, did she wallow, all the way to the gates of hell. But she got over it. That must really make you mad – that she managed to move on with her life, forgive herself, and fall into bed with John again.”
“I didn’t expect her to wait for me,” he replied stiffly.
“Didn’t you?” She shook her head. “My *God*, Roman, don’t you understand what you’ve lost? When you look at Belle, don’t you see what could have been, what you *gave* away through sheer stupidity?”
“Of course, I see it,” he snapped bitterly. “Do you think I’m completely dense? I *know* exactly what I did. And I realize it again every single time Belle looks at me like I’m a stranger.”
“She could have looked at you like a father,” Kristen pointed out, twisting the knife still further. It felt good to be causing pain instead of just experiencing it. Hmmm…. “You could have had the same
relationship with her that Marlena has with Carrie. John would have
bent over backwards to make it easy on you, for Marlena’s sake. You
could have had a wife, children, family and home…You could have
been where John is – and then I would be where Marlena is. *I* would
be the mother of his child, the wife he adores.” She briefly squeezed
her eyes shut, damning herself for her tears. “But, instead, you *threw*

it ALL *AWAY*!” Her voice rose to a shout. “And because you did that,
I lost *EVERYTHING*!”
“I-”
“*Don’t*! Just don’t.” She struggled up from the bench. “I really don’t want to hear it right now, Roman. Just leave me alone. I wish everyone would just *leave* *me* *ALONE*!” She turned on her heel

and half-stalked/half-waddled away.

Roman didn’t watch her go. He stared down at his hands, his cheeks burning with a combination of anger, humiliation and chagrin. She’s right, was the only thought running through his mind. It’s my fault I lost all of it…she’s right…It’s my fault…
***
Sami sat cross-legged on the floor of the children’s playroom, a pile of pillows behind her back, a drowsy Will curled up in her lap. She had volunteered to bunk with the kids for the night, and they had decided to make ‘camp’ in the first-floor playroom. She regarded the blanket, table and chair contraption in front of her with a thoughtful frown.
“Cool tent, huh?” a pajama-clad Brady said as he emerged from under the hanging blanket. He squatted down next to Sami to tickle Will’s stomach. Her son giggled and batted his hands away.
“Very cool tent,” Sami agreed. “But I thought you and Belle had sacked out for the night. Why aren’t you asleep yet?” He shrugged. “I’m not sleepy. Belle’s asleep, though.”
“I should think she would be. She was exhausted – and you should be, too. You guys had a very full day today.”
He nodded and rocked back on his heels, landing on the floor with a
*thump*. He leaned into Sami’s side, curling his arm through hers.
“Sami?”
“Hmm?”
“D’you think Momma and Daddy will get married?”
Sami closed her eyes, pained by his oh-so-familiar uncertainty. “They said they would be, didn’t they? Mom’s wearing the engagement ring.” “Uh-huh…” He closed his eyes and snuggled closer. “But…d’you think they will?”
Sami wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him back against the pillows. “I hope so, squirt,” she said, kissing the top of his head. For all our sakes…
***
Marlena lay back against the quilt and gazed up at the ceiling, her head pillowed on her arms, the evening’s events still fresh on her mind. She could hear the sounds of running water in the master bathroom as John finished brushing his teeth, and she smiled slightly upon the realization that this would be their first night together in their

new home. Their impromptu bed consisted of two quilts folded to double thickness and four fluffy pillows, situated in the center of the otherwise completely furnished bedroom.

She glanced around the large room, quite satisfied with the results of her decorating spree. The walls were painted a creamy eggshell white, and the dark mahogany furniture was beautifully complimented by the dusty rose of the color accents in the curtains. The charcoal plush carpet was so thick that the quilts weren’t strictly necessary as a cushion, but their addition made for a very comfortable makeshift bed. Her smile widened as she drew one knee up and crossed her other leg over it. She again wore only the football jersey as pajamas – John had confided to her that morning that he found them to be very alluring sleepwear. “Are you coming, honey?” she called, impatient for his presence.
“Finished,” he replied, exiting the bathroom and clicking the light off. He wore only a pair of sweatpants. “How’s the bed?”
“Come over here and find out,” she invited seductively, patting the space to her side.
He sat down next to her, reclining on one elbow and reaching across to caress her arm with his other hand. “Pretty comfy,” he murmured, trailing his index finger lightly along her inner elbow.
“Mmmm….So, what do you think is going to happen with Bo and
Hope?” She scraped her nails across the sculpted muscles of his chest, swirling her fingertips through the crisp hair.
“No idea,” he replied as his hand slipped down to her hip. His fingers toyed with the frayed bottom hem of the jersey. “I don’t think Billie will give up on Bo all that easily. And I’m not sure that Hope is willing to offer much of a fight.”
“Mmm…” She plucked playfully at the elastic waistband of his sweats. “And Carrie and Austin…or should I say, Carrie and Mike?”
John’s hand found its way underneath the jersey to the smooth skin beneath. “I know Carrie loves Austin,” he replied a bit distractedly, “but I’ve noticed lately that she seems a lot happier around Mike.”
Marlena nodded, inching her body closer to his, continuing the slow dance of seduction. Suddenly, she stilled as genuine concern overtook her expression. “John…Do you think Sami’s all right?”
He raised an eyebrow. “What? Oh, yes, I think so. I mean, I see why

you would be concerned – I certainly saw her reaction to Austin and Carrie today. But you’ve got to understand something, Doc – as moody as Sami sometimes is, her attitude lately is a thousand times improved over what it was before you were shot.”

She chuckled. “Hmm…is that what is known as finding the silver lining?”
The expression on his face as he realized the unintended implication of his comment was comical. “Oh, no, of course not, that’s definitely not what I meant. It’s just such a vast improvement over the way things were, that’s all.” He sighed. “And, I honestly do think she’s getting over Austin. She’s just not real happy with the direction of her life right now, Doc.”
Her brow furrowed. “Well, I think she’s enjoying her college classes, though.”
“Yes,” he agreed, “and it’s a really good beginning. But she has a ways to go, Marlena, and there’s only so much we can do to help her along.”
“But what we *can* do, we *will* do,” she replied firmly.
“Of course,” he agreed. “Now, are we done with talking about other people for the evening? Because I can think of better things to do in bed with you than discussing the problems of our friends and family.”
“Can you?” Suddenly, she surprised him by pushing on his elbow, sending him crashing back down against the quilt. She quickly covered his body with hers, using her knees to pin his arms to his sides. He allowed it, despite his greater strength, because he enjoyed her aggressiveness. “And what kind of things would those be?” she purred as she gave his ear a quick nibble.
“Let go of my hands and I’ll show you…” he whispered, before tilting his head up to capture her lips with his. They were soon lost to a sea of sensation, and Marlena released the pressure on his arms as he brought them up to crush her to his chest.
After a few endless moments of kissing, Marlena wrenched her mouth from his, breathless and laughing. “Well, Mr. Black…I am at your…
*complete* …disposal.” She gave his lips a seductive lick. He grinned wickedly. “That’s just the way I like it.” Chapter 87
The uncomfortable sensation of heat on his face awakened John far

earlier than he would have liked, and he spent a few fuzzy moments contemplating the wisdom of choosing his present resting place as the future position for the bed in his new bedroom. Too close to the windows… was his first thought, followed by, Just close the curtains, stupid. Both the blinds and curtains were open, which had allowed for a lovely view of the stars when they’d gone to bed last night – not that they had taken the time to notice. And he was reasonably sure he would eventually come to appreciate the view – but not on less than five hours of sleep.

He looked down at the woman in his arms and grinned to himself. If you have to wake up too early, this is the way to do it… He studied the peaceful expression on her face, marveling at her beauty even after a night of…*exercise*…and very little sleep. Her long dark lashes fanned against her creamy cheeks, and the wild tangles of her hair tumbled over her slim shoulder to rest against his chest. He felt desire stirring, as it almost always did with her in close proximity, especially if she happened to be naked in his arms. Not terribly surprising, he mused, grinning to himself. As he watched her, she shifted and murmured something under her breath, snuggling closer to his chest. “Doc?”

The lashes fluttered, then opened, and she looked up at him with sleepy hazel eyes. “Mmm…my favorite way to wake up,” she murmured, smiling.
“I’m kind of partial to it myself,” he agreed, tilting his head down to give her a soft good morning kiss. Tenderness soon turned to passion, and they almost didn’t notice the soft knock on the bedroom door.
Marlena reluctantly pulled away from him, frowning. “Did you hear something?” Their heads turned in unison toward the door as the knob began to turn.
“Damn,” John sputtered as Marlena jumped off of him and grabbed desperately for the football jersey she’d worn as pajamas, which lay discarded and forgotten over by the wall. “Where are my sweats?” he asked her as he fought to untangle himself from one of the quilts.
“I have no idea,” she replied as she snatched up the other quilt and wrapped it around her legs, like a particularly unflattering skirt. He gave up the search and drew the blanket around him as the door swung open and Brady poked his head in.

“Momma? Daddy? You ‘wake?”

Marlena hid her smile at John’s flustered reaction and motioned for their son to enter the room. “Yup, we’re awake. Come in, sweetheart.” The little boy smiled and took a running jump into the pillows. “Hi, Daddy!”
John hugged him. “Hey, Slugger. You’re looking bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning. But, son…do you remember what we told you about knocking?”
“Did knock,” Brady insisted as he arranged himself on the pillows. “Yes, but you have to *wait* for us to say ‘come in’, remember?”

He chewed on his lower lip, appearing to search his memory. “Uh-huh, I guess so…but, um, why?”
Marlena choked back a laugh as John shot her a beseeching glance. “You’re on your own,” she told him under her breath, turning to rummage through her suitcase, one hand still clutching the quilt.
“Gee, thanks.” John turned back to Brady. “Well, you know how your room is your private place, and you don’t like it if Belle plays with your toys in there without asking first?” Brady nodded. “Well, our room is *our* private place – that doesn’t mean we don’t want you to come in,” he added reassuringly, giving his son another hug, “it just means we want you to wait ’til we say it’s okay, okay?”
Brady shrugged, confused but agreeable. “Okay. But *you* guys don’t *have* any toys.”
Marlena could no longer hold back her laughter. While they had been talking, she’d found a pair of shorts to pull on under the jersey, and, thus suitably attired, she crossed the room to gather Brady into a hug. “I know, I know, we need to get some, don’t we? What do you think we should get?”
“Nintendo 64,” he replied positively, offering her a winning gap-toothed smile.
John laughed. “Very clever, slugger. So, are your sisters up?”
Brady squirmed out of his mother’s arms. “Uh-huh. Sami’s givin’ Will a bath an’ Belle wanted to watch.” His tone indicated how inexplicable he found *that* idea. “But I’m *hungry*. Sami said all we have are hotdogs an’ stuff from the party last night. C’n I have a hotdog?”
Marlena made a face, making him laugh. “Cold hotdogs for breakfast? Yuck. How about we stop at Salem Place on the way home and get

some pancakes?”

“Okay. I’ll go tell ’em.” Brady headed for the door, paused, and turned back to regard his father with a thoughtful frown. “Daddy?” “Yes, son?”
“How come you don’t got no clothes on?”
***
Vivian frowned and pressed the doorbell to the DiMera mansion for the third time. “Why isn’t she answering, Ivan?” she muttered to her companion, not really expecting an answer.
“Perhaps Kristen is not home this morning, Madame,” Ivan offered. His nervous glance scaled up and down the front of the house. “We should go.”
“Nonsense,” she replied, pressing the bell once again. “Where would she go? The woman has no friends to speak of…”
“Perhaps she has gone to see her father,” he supplied ominously. “And if that’s the case, then you and I should leave as quickly as possible.”
“Stefano is dead,” Vivian stated emphatically. “He’s dead, I’m in the driver’s seat at Titan, and John and Marlena are going to be married. All that’s left for *us* to do is make sure Kristen does nothing to rock the boat. Hence our visit to the castle of doom this morning.” Vivian brightened at the sound of footsteps on the other side of the door. It opened to reveal Kristen, clad in a shapeless muumuu pregnancy dress, her eyes heavy with fatigue. Does she sleep with that damn padding on? Vivian wondered as her sense of unease grew. “Kristen,” she murmured.
Kristen rubbed her neck and scowled at her visitors. “What the hell do *you* want, Vivian?”
“I don’t *want* anything,” Vivian snapped back. “In fact, I came here to do you a favor, and even though you’ve been the furthest thing from gracious, I shall still do so.” She gazed pointedly into the interior of the house, emphasizing Kristen’s rudeness in not inviting them in – though judging from the state of the house, it might be a blessing in disguise. The living room looked a mess, with clothes, dirty dishes and various other detritus strewn about. Shaking her head, Vivian dismissed the state of Kristen’s housecleaning as unimportant. “I have a warning for you, Kristen.”

Kristen raised her eyebrows, unimpressed. “I’m on pins and needles,” she drawled contemptuously.

Visibly reining in her temper, Vivian continued, “There’s going to be a party tomorrow night. A very important party, and I wanted to make sure you weren’t taken by surprise and goaded into doing…something that we would *all* regret.”
“I don’t have much left to lose, Vivian,” Kristen replied, ignoring Ivan’s murmured, “*That* much is certain.” She scowled at them. “And why would I care about some stupid party, anyway?”
“Because it’s being thrown by the Brady offspring,” Vivian told her, anticipating Kristen’s pained reaction just a tiny bit – the woman was just so *unbearably* obnoxious. “A celebration of the upcoming nuptials of Dr. Marlena Evans…and Mr. John Black.” Kristen’s evinced little visible reaction, but Vivian noted the other woman’s white-knuckled grip on the doorjamb. “I wasn’t sure if you were award of their recent glorious reconciliation,” she continued blithely, “but the family will be gathering tomorrow night at the Brady Pub to wish them well.”
“The family, huh?” Kristen put in sourly, “Then how the hell did *you* hear about it?”
I overheard Carrie in the hall at Titan, Vivian thought, but didn’t say. “I *am*, after all, John’s only aunt,” she replied loftily. “Naturally, I want to wish him well. I’m sure he’ll be very happy to see me there as we begin to rebuild our relationship…” her tone sharpened, “…that *is*, of course, unless you intend to reveal the facts about our…*intermittent* collusion in the distant past.” She gestured to the pregnancy pillow. “*Obviously* you continue to enact your charade for some unknown reason. Do you still intend to pass off another infant as your own?”
“None of your business,” Kristen snapped. “Look, you’ve delivered you little message – now get the hell out of here!” Without another word she slammed the door.
Ivan turned to regard Vivian worriedly. “Perhaps coming here was not a good idea, Madame.”
Vivian grimaced. “It wasn’t pleasant, I’ll admit, but we have to keep an eye on her, Ivan. I’m finally making a place for myself in this town, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let her mess this up for me. I had a vision earlier of her walking unawares into the Pub in the middle of the engagement

toast, ripping off that pillow and throwing it at Marlena, and then tossing the two of us to the wolves.” She stepped off of the front porch. “It was merely prudent to prepare her. Forewarned is forearmed, Ivan. Remember that.”

Sighing, Ivan followed her. “Yes, Madame.”
Inside the house, Kristen rested limply against the hard wood of the
door, the tears she’d managed to suppress in their presence coursing
down her cheeks unabated. Damn him, damn him…*when* will it stop
hurting? What will make it stop? Her hand came to rest on the
pregnancy pillow – she drew comfort from its presence, even as the
straps bit into her shoulders and her back ached in protest. She’d
taken to sleeping in it in addition to wearing it when she was alone. It
allowed her a small measure of belief in the life she had lost all those
months ago. Slowly, she opened her eyes, her gaze coming to rest on
the chaos of the living room. The thought of cleaning up the mess
brought her fatigue back in a rush. I can’t deal with this right now. She
grabbed her purse, opened the front door, and stepped out into the
sunlight.
***
Marlena leaned over the table and wiped Belle’s messy face with a napkin, smiling as the little girl wrinkled her nose up at her mother. They were breakfasting with John, Sami and Brady at the outdoor cafe at Salem Place, enjoying an unusually cool late summer morning. Will had been left behind at the Kiriakis mansion for a day with his father.
“How’s my messy girl?” Marlena asked as she scrubbed away the syrup. “Do you want more juice, sweetheart?” Belle shook her head as she reached for a piece of buttered toast. “What about you, Sami?” Marlena added, turning to her older daughter. Sami coughed. “What? Oh, no, thanks.”
Marlena frowned at her. “Are you sure? You’ve barely touched your breakfast, honey.”
Sami looked down at her plate with a faintly nauseated expression. “I…I’m not really hungry. Look, I have to get going – class starts in a couple of hours, and I need to get some work done.”
“Do you want a ride?” John asked her. “Belle and I could drop you off after we leave Doc at the hospital and Brady at Mark’s.” “No, thanks, that’s okay.”

Brady reached for the syrup. “You’re comin’ to the party t’morrow, aren’t ya?”

“Sami’s in charge of it,” John told his son, smiling. “In fact, it was her idea, isn’t that nice?” He glanced over at Sami. “In case we forgot to mention it, Sami, we really appreciate everything you’ve done for us.”
Sami didn’t raise her gaze from her plate. “It’s nothing, really,” she muttered. “I, uh, have to get going.” She slid out of her chair and drew her backpack over her shoulder. “Bye.”
John stopped her with a hand on her arm, his eyebrow drawing up in surprise as she drew back from his touch. “Sami? Are you sure you’re all right?”
She closed her eyes and pressed her lips together. “I’m *fine*,” she replied in a carefully controlled tone. “I’m just in a hurry, so *goodbye*, okay?”
John and Marlena watched her cross the plaza as Belle and Brady argued over the last jelly packet. “Was that a *mood*?” John wondered aloud, “or is something really wrong?”
A furrow marred Marlena’s brow as she considered the question. The
complicated, moody woman her daughter had become during the
years she had forgotten was still largely a mystery to her, but
something told her this was more than a random fit of pique. “I…don’t
know.”
***
Sami stood on the curb near the taxi stand, debating the choice between shuttle and taxi. The bus that stopped directly in front of the Student Center at Salem U. would be arriving in about five minutes, arguably before a cab could appear, but the headache behind her eyes was not looking forward to the din and clamor of public transportation. She rubbed her forehead tiredly and coughed, her breath hitching through the tightness in her chest. Her fingers met overheated skin. Oh, no, not a fever – I can’t get sick, she thought despairingly, her depression leading her mind directly to the worst-case scenario. I don’t have *time*… Summer session finals loomed over the next week, and Will’s accident and varying family traumas had put her almost hopelessly behind in studying. Sudden tears pricked her eyes. Why can’t *anything* ever go right for me?
“Sami?”

Sami blinked through her fatigue, until her sister’s smiling face swam into focus. Carrie stood in front of her dressed for work in a trim cranberry suit, her hands full of packages from an early morning sale, her hair swept back in an artless fall. She looked stylish and confident, the epitome of a young executive on her way up, and – standing next to her in jeans, button-down shirt and backpack – Sami felt unbearably childish and inferior. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” she muttered churlishly, not meeting her sister’s gaze.

Carrie’s smile faltered a little. “I’m on my way there,” she replied after a moment in a carefully neutral tone, “but I saw in the paper that the card store was having a sale, so I went ahead and bought streamers and balloons for the party. Do you want to see them?”
Sami swallowed thickly and choked back another cough. “I, ah, can’t…I don’t have time. I have to catch a bus.” She turned to leave in the direction of the bus stop.
Carrie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Okay,” she called to Sami’s back, “but what about the hors d’oeuvres? Have you decided what you want to get?”
Sami stopped and squeezed her eyes shut, holding her inexplicable tears at bay. What is *wrong* with me? “I don’t know,” she managed to whisper, afraid her sister would *hear* the pain in her voice. “I-..I have to go.” She hurried away as fast as she could, her breath coming in small gasps.
Carrie stared after her, frowning. What was *that* all about? Though her relationship with Sami had been improving in small ways, she still could not claim to understand her sister in the least. Well, here’s a wacky idea, maybe it doesn’t have anything to do with me… She grinned to herself at her own inflated sense of self-importance.
“Carrie?” She turned to find Don Craig regarding her with a bemused half-smile. “You look like you’re a million miles away.”
She shook her head. “Nope, just a couple of blocks, actually. I’m about to be really late for work, I’m afraid. Would you like to walk with me?” He held up a folder. “I would, but I’m heading in the opposite direction. I have to file these at the courthouse for Jack.”
“Did I remember to congratulate you for getting him out? You and
Mickey really did an amazing job.”
“Thanks.”

She transferred two of the bags from her left to right hand. “Well, I’d better get going. Oh, before I forget, the engagement party is tomorrow night at the Pub. You will still be here, won’t you?”

He averted his gaze. “Maybe. We’ll see.” He held up the folder again. “I, ah, I have to go.”
Carrie watched him leave, much as she had her sister, and wondered
at the bizarre moods of everyone she had encountered so far that day.
Even Austin had been somewhat mysterious about his plans for the
morning, though her question as they’d met in the hallway of their
apartment building had been more rhetorical than anything else. She
was mildly curious about his reasons for not going in to Titan, but not
so much so that she’d taken the time to grill him. She was eager to get
to work to attend a meeting with the staff of Bella, as editor Stacy
Krugman was going to update everyone involved on the tenor of
reader response to Isabella’s memorial issue. Carrie had been very
proud of the final product, and was eager for audience feedback. And
Mike will be there, she reminded herself, wondering why that made
her so happy. Dismissing Sami and Don’s odd behavior, she set off for
the Titan building.
***
“Do you want some more oatmeal, son?” Shawn asked Roman, a concerned frown on his face as he leaned over the bar, bowl in hand. Roman rubbed his forehead and rested one elbow on the bar, shifting uncomfortably on the barstool. “No, Pop,” he replied, trying not to seem ungrateful, “and if I did want some, I would get it myself. You don’t need to wait on me.”
“Allow an old man to take care of his boy, now, aye?” Shawn urged him. “I’m just worried about you, son.”
Roman closed his eyes. “I know, Pop. But there’s nothing you can do, okay? Please, just leave it alone.” Leave me alone. He was becoming more and more certain that moving in with his parents, albeit temporarily, hadn’t been a very good idea. Their solicitude was about to drive him mad.
Looking slightly hurt, Shawn did as he was bid and disappeared back into the kitchen. Roman let out a long sigh of relief. The phone on the bar rang, and he looked from it to the kitchen door, wondering if he should answer. His mother emerged from the back hallway and

rendered the question moot.

“Hello? Oh, Carrie, dear, how are you?…Yes…Yes…Is she?…No, I haven’t seen her lately…No, it’s all arranged, don’t worry about a thing. Have you invited everyone?… Yes…Yes…No, I can handle that…All right, sweetheart, I’ll talk to you later. Bye.”
Caroline hung up the phone and busied herself wiping down the bar, not meeting her son’s pointed gaze. “How’s Carrie?” he asked, his tone thick with irony.
“Oh, she’s fine.” Short and to the point.
“And the thing that is all arranged?” he persisted.
Her hand paused mid-wipe. “The engagement party,” she finally replied, looking up to meet his gaze squarely. “The one she and Sami are giving for John and Marlena here at the Pub tomorrow night.” “I see.” His tone was positively glacial.
“You told them you had night duty this week,” Caroline reminded him, her tone somewhat plaintive, as if requesting that he recognize the impossible position she found herself in.
Rock and a hard place, Roman thought, decidedly unsympathetic. It didn’t seem so much to ask that your parents be on your side. “I’ve got to go,” he muttered, sliding off of the stool. “Later, Ma.”
“Roman,” she called after him as he crossed the room to the door of the Pub. “Roman!” He shut the door behind him without acknowledging her words.
She sighed, exasperated, and turned back to the bar.
***
Paulette Sandene, R.N., smiled at Marlena as the doctor approached the fifth floor nurses station, file folders in hand. “Good morning, Dr. Evans.”
Marlena smiled. “Good morning, Paulette. I just came by to ask you if any of my patients had called the desk to cancel their appointments.” Paulette peeked into her message file. “No, no messages, Doctor. But wouldn’t your patients call your secretary for that?”
Marlena grimaced. “Probably. I’m actually worried about *one* patient in particular – she was scheduled for a session a half an hour ago, but she never showed. I’ve been afraid something like this might happen.” “Well, I’m sorry, but she didn’t call here.” Paulette could see that Marlena was very worried indeed, and offered a hopeful, “Maybe there

was just some sort of mix-up.”

Marlena sighed. “I hope that’s all it is…but I have this feeling…” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “Anyway, I appreciate your help. Oh, and I wanted to make sure you knew about the party tomorrow night.”
Paulette raised her eyebrows. “Party?”
Marlena flashed her a wide smile. “Engagement party,” she revealed, clearly relishing the words. “Carrie and Sami are throwing one for John and me at the Brady Pub. I hope you’ll be able to come.”
“Wouldn’t miss it,” Paulette replied, smiling broadly. Her gaze slid over Marlena’s shoulder to land upon the man coming up behind her. “Hello, Mr. Craig.”
“Hello,” Don replied. “Nurse Sandene, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mr. Craig. Thanks for the invitation, Dr. Evans, I’ll definitely be there. But right now I’m due in the ER, so I’ll see you later.”
“Bye,” Marlena said, then turned to Don. “Hello, Mr. Craig,” she greeted him, eyes twinkling. “How are you this fine morning?”
“Not as fine as *you* are, obviously,” he replied. “May I walk you to your office?”
“Sure,” she said as they began to walk down the hallway. “So, you must be relieve that Jack’s ordeal is over. I know the Hortons – Laura, in particular – are very grateful for everything you did for him.”
“I was glad to do it,” Don told her as he opened the door to her outer office. Hillary smiled at both of them from behind her desk, before returning her attention to her computer. “Did you know that Jack and Jennifer are taking Abby to Africa to see Bill? Mickey told me about it this morning. I guess they figured their whole family could use a break.”
“No, I didn’t know,” she answered as she led him into her office, “but, then, I have yet to see Laura today, and we weren’t home last night after the barbecue. I’ll probably hear all about it this afternoon, though. Take a seat, if you have time to chat for a while.”
“Don’t you have patients?” he asked, settling into the chair in front of the desk.
A dark cloud momentarily shaded her expression. “I did. She never arrived, and my next appointment isn’t for an hour or so. But I’m glad that we have a chance to talk before you leave to go back to Chicago.”

She regarded him with clear hazel eyes, her concern evident. “I wanted to ask you how you were doing.”

Don looked away uncomfortably. “I’m fine, Marlena”
“Are you?” She allowed an uneasy silence to fall, until he finally braced himself and turned to look at her. “Are you?” she repeated in a softer tone.
His lips tightened. “I don’t want to talk about this, Marlena.”
She leaned across the desk. “I know, Don, and I understand, believe me, I do. You *know* I do.” She took a deep breath. “I know you remember this, but…after DJ died, I had a very hard time discussing what had happened. Even now, I have to force myself to voice the pain and loss I still feel. And Aaron…” she paused and swallowed, “…it’s still very difficult to speak of losing him.”
Don pressed his lips together and stared down at his hands. “Talking about it wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t help.”
“That’s not true,” she disagreed gently. “It wouldn’t change what happened to Donna, I know, but talking about it might help you, Don. Your daughter *died* – you can’t pretend that didn’t happen.”
His jaw clenched. “I *know* that,” he replied in a low, dangerous voice. “And I’m *not* pretending that it didn’t happen, I just don’t want to *talk* about it.”
“All right,” she finally agreed. “I won’t push you. I just want you to know that I’m here for you, Don. And it may not seem like it now…but I know that God has good things in store for your future.” The framed photograph of Belle and Brady that rested on her desk caught her eye, and she smiled softly. “You never know what wonderful gifts he has planned.”
Don’s gaze followed hers, and he scowled faintly upon seeing the picture. “Oh, yes, I heard about the on-again nature of your on-again/off-again engagement.”
She was taken aback by his unexpectedly sharp tone. “You sound as though you don’t approve,” she murmured, raising a questioning brow. “My approval isn’t really required, is it?”
She studied his expression for a moment. “I’ve always valued your opinion, Don,” she temporized. “If you have some reason for objecting to my marriage to John, then I’d like to hear it.”
“Okay, fine.” He considered his choice of words for a moment, then

began, “Just a few days ago you told me that you and John didn’t *have* a future together-”

“I didn’t think we did,” she interjected. “I didn’t purposely mislead you, Don.”
“I know that, Marlena. My point is, you *did* believe that it was over between you. He convinced you that it was, and hurt you very deeply, and for no damn good reason at all that I can see.” “He thought that-”

“That you still had feelings for Roman,” Don finished. “I know that, too. And *you* told me that those fears were groundless.” His gaze narrowed pointedly. “*I* believed you, Marlena, but he didn’t. My point is, if he was willing to leave you over something that had *no* basis in fact, how can you be sure that he won’t do it again for equally spurious reasons?”
“He won’t,” she answered positively.
“But how do you *know*?” he persisted. “As far as I can tell, from what everyone has told me, he’s been *incredibly* inconsistent in the way he’s treated you. How can you be sure that *any* promise he makes – to you *or* to your children-” he gestured to the picture “-will be any more binding than the ones he’s already broken?”
Marlena frowned. “To *whom* have you been speaking, Don?” she asked somewhat heatedly. “Because you seem to have received some incredibly biased opinions. You weren’t here – you have no *idea* what has happened between John and me!”
“Do *you*?” he returned. “Maybe the history I’ve been getting is biased, but, then, I’m sure he’s put his own slant on what he’s told you, too. In any case, can you *deny* that he was about to marry a DiMera while Stefano held you captive? Do you *deny* that said DiMera is pregnant with his child? Do you *deny* that he seduced you while you were married to Roman? Do you-”
“Stop it!” she snapped, rising from her chair. “Just stop it, I’ve heard enough! I am not some witness that you’re cross-examining in a court case – this is my *life* you’re talking about, and you have no right to judge me for the way I live it! And as for the things you said, John has never *once* denied that *any* of them are true. He has explained everything to me to my satisfaction, and, frankly, that’s all that really matters.” She leaned forward on her hands, pinning him with a glare.

“Isn’t it?”

He regarded her stonily. “You asked for my opinion, Marlena. I gave it to you.”
She paused, took a deep breath, and mentally counted to ten. “Yes,”
she finally said, “I did ask. Thank you for your honesty.”
“But it doesn’t make any difference to you, does it?”
She sat back down in her chair and studied him, her expression calm. “I am going to marry John Black,” she stated simply. “It’s going to happen. And, no, nothing you could possibly tell me would ever change that.”
Don stood up from his chair. “Then I suppose I have nothing more to say.” He turned to leave, paused, and looked back at her, a glimmer of pain shining from his eyes. “I do hope you’ll be happy, Marlena.” His gaze once again caught on the photo of Belle and Brady, zeroing in on her daughter’s smiling face. “All of you,” he added in a whisper. He left without another word, drawing the door shut behind him.
“Thank you,” Marlena murmured into the ensuing silence. She stared at the unyielding wood, her brow furrowing as she considered her ex-husband’s words. Is he seeing something I’m not? After a moment, she sighed, shook her head, and went back to work. ***

John cradled Belle against his chest with one arm and used the other to brush a pile of early fall leaves from a green wooden bench in the middle of Salem University Park. “Went high, Daddy,” his little girl told him as they sat down on the bench.
“*Very* high,” he agreed, smoothing her blonde hair. “You are a champion on the swings, baby.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she murmured sleepily into his shoulder as she twined an arm about his neck. It was really too early in the day for her nap, but last night’s excitement had clearly had lingering effects – she’d been yawning since breakfast. He’d thought that a morning in the park might wake her up, but it hadn’t worked, apparently. Not that he minded having the opportunity to sit down and hold a bundle of warm, sleepy toddler on a park bench in the sunshine. Nope, I don’t mind at all. He rocked back and forth slightly, humming under his breath – “Take Me Out to the Ballgame”, of course, the only song in his exceedingly limited repertoire. Belle giggled at him and snuggled

closer, and he obligingly began the second verse.

His slightly off-tune rendition masked the leafy crunch of approaching
footsteps, and he was unaware of the pair of eyes that studied them
from across the clearing…and the jealous – almost *dangerous* – rage
that claimed a battered heart.
Chapter 88
Sami propped her chin up on her fists and stared groggily down at the decorations piled on the table in front of her. What was I supposed to do with these? she wondered, suppressing a soggy cough. Her bleary gaze took in the interior of the Pub – half-filled with late customers, half-filled with early party-goers. Dimly, her mind registered their presence. Oh, yeah, engagement party… She looked down at the decorations again, and finally remembered Carrie’s frustrated final instructions before she’d departed to the deli down the street – “If you wouldn’t *mind* helping me out with a party that was *your* idea in the first place…” Her sister was angry with her for forgetting about promising to bring the hors d’oeuvres – but Sami really couldn’t bring herself to expend the energy to care.
Not that she had *purposely* screwed up or anything. She’d *meant* to get them, really she had, but the day had somehow slipped away from her, beginning with a frantic late-morning dash to the Salem U. campus to take a final exam, the allotted class time already half over. Her professor had alternated between pique and concern at her late arrival, aware of the problems Sami had experienced over the semester, but rather stricter than Sami would have liked. In the end, she’d been allowed to take the exam, but only in the scant remaining time, and between the time crunch and the half bottle of Nyquil she’d swigged on the bus, Sami was reasonably certain that she’d failed the test. Afterward, tired and depressed, she’d allowed herself a short nap that had lapsed unnoticed into several uncomfortable, hot hours of tossing and turning. She’d finally awakened and dragged herself to the Pub, feeling scarcely better rested and definitely *not* in the frame of mind for a party, but sheer Sami stubbornness had kept her from pleading illness to her angry sister. She had accepted Carrie’s sarcastic exasperation as her due and remained obstinately silent, vowing to herself that she would do nothing to mar anyone else’s enjoyment of the party – and thus easily slipping into the martyr’s

frame of mind that she’d perfected in the year after John’s affair with her mother. On top of that, she was beginning to fear that her illness was something more serious than late summer flu…Not that anyone would notice if I keeled over right here in the middle of thefloor…

Sami reached out to finger the balloons and streamers on the table before her, idly totting up amount of the energy she would be forced to expend in order to hang them. Sighing, she crossed her arms over the tabletop and laid her head down on them. Just a few more minutes…that’s all I need. She lapsed into a troubled sleep almost immediately, thus missing her father’s entrance into the Pub.
Roman did not see his daughter, either, as he made a beeline through the growing crowd toward the back stairs, purposefully ignoring the obvious signs of party preparation around the bar. He’d almost made his escape unnoticed, but his mother emerged from the kitchen and let out a startled gasp. “Roman! What in the world are you doing here?”
“I *live* here, at least temporarily,” he replied sourly. “*Remember*?” “You were supposed to be on duty tonight,” she reminded him, refusing to feel guilty despite his injured tone. “You *know* the children planned the engagement party for this evening.”
“Don’t worry,” he snapped. “I have no intention of sticking around to offer a toast to the happy couple. Detective Hilton asked to trade shifts with me – I’m just going to go up to my room. That is, unless I’ve been completely banished from the premises for the night.”
“Of course not,” Caroline replied shortly, as even her infinite patience began to fray. She grabbed a tray from the bar and disappeared back into the kitchen.
Roman glared after her, hurt and angry. “Fine,” he muttered under his breath, turning toward the stairs. The oak barrel full of ice and champagne behind the bar caught his eye, and he reached out to snag a bottle for himself as he left the room. They owe me this much, at least, he thought.
As he ascended the stairs, his other daughter entered through the front door of the Pub, a large platter in hand, and, spying a somnolent Sami, she headed straight for her sister. “Dammit, Sami!” Carrie began without preamble, dropping the tray on the table with a clatter, “What the hell is your problem? I thought you *wanted* to throw this party!”

Sami raised her head and stared down at the hors d’oeuvres for a moment, blinking blearily. “I-” she licked her lips and closed her eyes. “Sorry,” she mumbled eventually, “Had a test t’day…tired.”

Slightly mollified, Carrie peered more closely at her sister. “Yeah, you do look kinda wiped, I guess an all-nighter can do that to you.” Sami lacked the energy to correct her sister’s misconception, so she merely nodded slightly. “But you should have said something to me, Sami,” Carrie continued, still a bit peeved, “it’s not that I really minded doing your half of the prep, but you didn’t give me any *notice*.” She glanced down worriedly. “I just hope these are okay – it’s all the deli had left. But I think with what Hope said she was bringing, it should be enough.”
Sami blinked twice and squinted at the tray. “Looks fine,” she muttered, not even sure what she was looking at, but not really caring. Carrie picked up the platter in one hand and the streamers and balloons in the other. “Look, I’ll handle this stuff. Mike’s going to be here in a minute, and I’m sure I can find some volunteers in this crowd. Go back to sleep, all right? We don’t want you to pass out in the middle of the party.”
She was gone before he words penetrated Sami’s muddled brain. “‘Kay.” She laid her head back down, wishing mightily that the pounding in her head would cease and that she could draw an easy breath. She stifled another cough and closed her eyes.
Carrie met a frowning Austin at the bar. He was staring down at the helium tank, fingering the valve in puzzlement. “I can’t figure out how this stupid thing works…” He looked up at her, and then over at Sami. “Is something wrong with Sami?”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “Who knows? She said she’s tired, but I don’t think that’s all it is. I just hope she’s not regretting supporting John and Marlena.” She placed the platter on the bar and reached for the tank, giving the valve an expert twist. “There, that’s got it.”
“Why would you think that?” Austin asked as he took some of the balloons.
Carrie shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know – I don’t pretend to understand Sami. It’s just that I would expect her to be a little more enthusiastic about this party from the way she was acting before the barbecue. I thought she was really looking forward to John and Marlena getting

married and all of them moving into the new house together.”

Austin frowned. “But you think she’s changed her mind?” He snapped one of the balloons over the valve and twisted the handle. The balloon began to fill with a hiss.
Carrie sighed. “Oh, I don’t know – I don’t think she knows *what* she wants, and when that happens, her usual response is to make everyone around her miserable.” She fell silent for a moment. “On the other hand, maybe she’s just tired because she stayed up late studying for a final, and I’ve become paranoid. Take your pick.”
Austin thought about that for a moment, then finally shrugged. “Whatever. Hand me another balloon, would you?” ***

“Don’t wanna wear a tie,” Brady insisted, pushing away his father’s hand.
“Hmm…well, me, either, kid.” John paused to once again peruse the contents of Brady’s closet, finally selecting a blue knit shirt. “How about this one?”
Brady studied it for a moment, cocking his head to the side, looking for all the world like a pint-sized fashion critic. “Okay,” he finally agreed, tugging at his t-shirt. “What are you gonna wear, Daddy?” he asked, his voice muffled by the material as he pulled it over his head.
“A tie, I guess,” John replied, sighing dramatically. Brady giggled at him. “Put these on with it, okay?” He handed his son a pair of khakis. “I’m going to go check on your sister.”
He found Belle in her room, surrounded by a pile of pretty dresses, irretrievably wrinkled from their stay on the floor. “Sweetie, I told you to wait for me.”
She gave him a look over her shoulder, and at that moment she so resembled Marlena that he had to stifle a laugh. “I’m not gonna wear any of these ones,” she informed him haughtily, as if that fact were completely obvious. “That’s why they’re on the floor.”
He began to hang them up. “Yes, but now they’ll be all wrinkled the next time you *do* want to wear them.”
Her brow furrowed as she considered his statement. “Oh. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay,” he replied, dropping a kiss on her blonde head. “But why didn’t you want to wear any of these?”
She shrugged and turned back to her closet. “I wanna wear the blue

one, but it’s not here.”

Blue one…blue one… John frowned as he tried to recall that particular outfit, conscious of his typical male response to women’s fashion. “I think that one’s in the laundry, baby. How about we find you another one in here?” He lifted her off of the floor so she could have a good view of the top rack in the closet. “What about this?” The look she gave him clearly indicated that the soft green jumper was *not* acceptable. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” he replied, stifling another chuckle. “Do you see one you like?” She chewed her lip for a moment, then pointed to a sleeveless purple dress. “All right, let me get that for you.” He pulled the hanger from the rack and set Belle down on the floor. “Here you go.”
She began to struggle out of her t-shirt. “Where’s Momma?” she asked, yanking her arm from the sleeve and dropping the shirt on the floor.
“Working, baby,” he replied as he helped her pull the dress over her head. “She’ll be here in a few minutes, so let’s be ready when she gets here, hmm? Are you excited about the party?”
“Uh-huh.” She grinned up at him, and he was again struck by her resemblance to her mother. “An’ I’m also excited ’bout moving in to the new house t’morrow. We’re still going to, right?” A bit of anxiety shaded her tone, and John nearly winced upon hearing it.
I will never, *ever* disappoint you like that again, he mentally vowed to her, all the while conscious that it was an unkeepable promise. But if intentions counted for anything at all… You will never, ever doubt how much I want all of us to be a family. He knelt down to her eye level and gathered her into his arms. “We are *definitely* going to, baby. I don’t want you to worry about anything, all right? Your mom and I are going to get married, and we’re all going to be together in the new house. It *will* happen, very, very soon – I promise.”
Belle hugged him fiercely, her small arms locked around his neck. “‘Kay.” A few moments later, she pulled away to stare up at him with impossibly blue eyes, her expression suddenly serious beyond her years. “I love you, Daddy.”
John blinked back sudden tears. “I love you, too, baby girl,” he whispered into her hair. “And I’ll always be here for you. I’ll always protect you. Always…” He held her tight for too few endless minutes,

before her natural ebullience reasserted itself, and she began to squirm in his arms.

“Shoes, Daddy,” she giggled, dropping to the floor.
He sighed, feeling bizarrely bereft as she left his arms. “All right, let’s
find you some shoes.”
***
“I can’t thank you enough for bringing these, Hope,” Carrie said as the two women rearranged the food platters. “I was afraid we’d be low on hors d’oeuvres, but it looks like we’ll have plenty.”
Hope nodded distractedly, her attention repeatedly swaying to where Bo and Billie stood together across the room. “It was no problem,” she murmured. “Gran wanted to send them with me, since she’s out of town visiting Aunt Marie. You know how happy she is for John and Marlena.”
Carrie nodded. She studied her sometime-aunt’s expression, and followed her gaze to the couple opposite. “Are you all right?” she asked gently. “It must be hard to see them together.”
Hope averted her gaze guiltily. “It doesn’t matter how I feel. Billie’s been through enough – I refuse to make it worse for her.”
“No matter how badly she treats you?” Hope turned to look at Carrie, surprised by the pique in her tone. “Look, I know she’s my sister-in-law, and I’m very sorry that she lost her baby, but blaming you for it is just *wrong*. She doesn’t have any right to be so hurtful.”
Hope bit her lip. “I don’t think she really knows what she’s saying. I was like that after I lost my baby – I just wanted to lash out at whoever was handy. I remember I treated Bo so horribly after I miscarried.” She paused and glanced over at Billie. “I’m sure once Billie has a little distance from what happened, she’ll realize that her losing the baby was the *last* thing I wanted to have happen…” But she sounded far from certain of that outcome.
“Well, I suppose. But don’t let her attitude spoil the party for you, all right? You deserve to have a little fun.”
Hope smiled. “I do, don’t I? We all do, actually, especially John and Marlena. After everything they’ve been through to get here, they deserve a *great* party.” Her smile widened and she began to laugh. “Do you remember back when they first got together? It was *so* obvious from the very beginning that they had it *bad* for one another,

and neither of them knew how to admit it.”

Carrie rolled her eyes and groaned. “Don’t remind me! I was *such* a little brat to him. One time after I saw them kissing I *ran* away from *home*! How childish can you get?”
“Well, you *were* a child,” Hope reminded her, chuckling. “And you just didn’t realize John was falling in love with you right along with Marlena. You should have seen him when you got hit by that car – he was almost out of his mind with worry.”
Carrie’s answering smile held a tinge of nostalgia. “He worked so hard to make me love him – and even when I was trying to convince him I didn’t like him, that really meant a lot. I mean, when Marlena dated Richard Cates, he really could have cared less about her kids, but John wanted the whole package…” Her voice trailed off, lost in the past.
“So what do you think?” Mike asked as he came bounding up, interrupting their trip down memory lane. “Do I have a second career happening as a party decorator?”
Hope and Carrie turned to survey the festively bedecked bar. The CONGRATULATIONS banner hung a bit crookedly from the mirrored wall glass, and the clutches of balloons wafted drunkenly in the breeze of the air-conditioning. The women shared a glance, then turned in unison toward Mike. “No!” they both shouted in perfect concert.
Mike evinced a sham expression of deep hurt. “Damn…well, as long as the champagne holds out, I don’t think anyone’ll mind much. When are John and Marlena getting here?”
“Should be in just a few minutes,” Carrie replied. “Is everyone here?” “Everyone who’s anyone!” Mike quipped as they turned to survey the crowd.
Bradys, Hortons and Reeds mingled with hospital personnel, assorted
Alamain executives, and Bella employees. Carrie spotted Vivian and
Ivan in the gathered mass and furrowed her brow. “Did I invite
Vivian?” she murmured to herself.
Hope turned to look at her. “What?”
Maybe she came with Don… Carrie had heard rumors that the two had been spending time together. “Do you see Don anywhere?” she asked them. They looked, but could not find him. “I guess he’s not coming.” “He seems to be the only one,” Mike remarked as someone slipped a

CD into the boom box on the side table, sending muted strains of music wafting out across the murmuring crowd. He turned to ask Carrie for a dance, then spotted Austin glaring at them from over by the bar. A part of him still wanted to ask her, smugly certain that she would reply in the affirmative, but another part of him didn’t want to make the situation any more difficult for her than it already was. The last thing *he* was going to do was pressure her, since it was one of the traits he found most irritating in Austin. “Would you like to dance, gorgeous?” he asked his cousin instead.

Hope wrenched her gaze away from Bo. “I’d love to. Let me know if you need any more help, Carrie.”
“I will.” She watched them walk out on the dance floor, stifling a laugh as Mike moved awkwardly to the fast-paced song. He was unsurpassed as a slow dancer, but med-school had obviously bitten into his recreation time when it came to the more contemporary beats. She found his unpolished enthusiasm oddly endearing.
“May I have this dance?” Austin murmured into her ear. She started, not having seen him come up behind her.
She mustered a small smile as she turned to face him, feeling slightly
guilty that the man she’d loved for years was not her dance partner of
choice. “Sure. Why not?”
***
John paused outside the front door to the Pub and turned to survey his companions, smiling in satisfaction at Marlena – resplendent in a print silk dress – carrying Brady, tie-less and grinning. He hefted Belle (clad in both purple and shoes) in his arms and smoothed her blonde hair. “Are we all ready, family?”
“Ready!” Brady sang out as Belle nodded enthusiastically.
Marlena slipped her free arm through his and stood on tiptoe to kiss him softly. “Ready,” she murmured, grinning against his lips.
He pushed open the door, and they found themselves facing a mass of friends and family, obviously forewarned, who shouted out “Congratulations!” in cacophonous unison.
Carrie rushed forward to hug each of them. “Happy engagement party!” she told them, her eyes sparkling with pure enjoyment. “Thanks, punkin.”
“Yes, thank you, sweetheart,” Marlena added as she set Brady down

on the floor. “We’re so grateful for all the trouble you’ve gone to, you and Sami both.” She scanned the crowd. “Where *is* Sami?”

“Here,” Sami called faintly as she made her way through the crowd. She came to a halt a few feet away and managed a seemingly sincere – if a bit wan – smile. “Congratulations.”
Marlena surveyed her daughter’s closed body language and made no move to pull her into an embrace. “Thank you, Sami.”
“Carrie did all of the work,” she replied self-consciously. “I’m, uh, going to go check on things in the kitchen. Enjoy the party.” She turned away, stifling a cough. The press of people in the room made it difficult to breathe.
“Is she all right?” Marlena murmured to Carrie as she watched Sami go, her brow furrowing.
“She pulled an all-nighter for a final, apparently,” Carrie said, “but she said she’s fine. Don’t worry about it, you guys. Just have a good time, okay? That’s why we’re all here.”
Marlena and John traded glances. “Then that’s what we’ll do,” John replied firmly. He knelt down to eye Brady and Belle. “Right, guys?” “Right!” they giggled.
Carrie ruffled their hair. “I’ve got cookies. Does anybody here want cookies?”
“Me! Me! Me!” they shouted, following their sister to the dessert table. John grinned at Marlena as they left, then cocked his head, listening to the music. “Why, Dr. Evans, I think they’re playing our song.”
She allowed him to take her hand and draw her out onto the floor as their friends and family converged around them. “Is this our song?” she asked, fluttering her eyelashes coyly.
He laughed and gave her a quick kiss, eliciting mocking “ooooo’s” from the smiling crowd. “It is now, baby.” They glided gracefully into a close embrace, swaying slightly to the slow tempo of the ballad. After a moment, they were joined on the dance floor by Abe and Lexie, Mickey and Maggie, and Billie and a reluctant Bo.
Marlena laid her head against John’s chest, relishing the feel of him in her arms. “Have I mentioned yet today how much I adore you, Mr. Black?”
John pretended to consider her question gravely. “Why, no, my dear lady, I do not believe you have. Feel free to elaborate upon that very

point, however.”

“Mmm…okay.” She gave him a slow, languorous kiss. “I adore you…*almost* as much as I adore mocha chocolate fudge ice cream.” He raised an eyebrow and bit back a smile. “*That* much? Wow, I’m honored!”
She trailed her lips down his cheek and nibbled lightly on his ear. “Mmm-hmm…and *nearly* as much as I like Parmesan popcorn…”
He chuckled low in his throat, trailing his hands down her silk-clad back. “Am I sensing a theme here?”
She nipped his earlobe. “Mmm-hmm…all of you are delicious…*items*…that I just *loooove* to eat.”
John pulled her up against him, leaving no daylight between them. “I – all of a sudden for some inexplicable reason – am experiencing a *wonderful* mental picture,” he murmured, shifting his hips.
“Later,” she admonished him, her smile widening wickedly as she discerned the physical effect she was having on him. “There are children here, you insatiable man. Behave.”
“*Me*!” he exclaimed in mock outrage, pulling away. “*I’m* not doing anything. I’m innocent, I tell ya!”
“Get your innocent butt back over here,” she ordered, yanking him toward her playfully. “The song’s not over yet.”
He listened to the music for a moment. “This is an entirely *different* song,” he informed her loftily.
She wrinkled her brow in a delicate furrow. “Well, I suppose I could dance with Mike, then. He’s looking *quite* handsome this evening.” He laughed and pulled her against his chest. “Not a chance, lady. I’m the only name on your dance card this evening, got it?”
She snuck a hand around his back to give him a surreptitious pinch on the butt. “Is that an *order*, Mr. Black?”
He tilted his head down to whisper in her ear, his tone low and sexy. “Actually, I think it’s more of a fervent, heartfelt request…”
She shivered at the feel of his warm breath against her cheek and pressed her body closer to his. “I think that could be arranged…”
They danced on, oblivious to the admiring stares of many in the room
– and the angry glare of the pair of eyes watching through the etched glass breakfront windows, lost in the shadows of the deepening twilight.

***

Carrie and Caroline stood side-by-side, hands on hips, pondering the oak barrel of ice and champagne resting behind the bar with identical, slightly tipsy frowns. “Where did all of it go?” Carrie wondered, genuinely perplexed.
Caroline shrugged, then stifled a hiccup. “I don’t know. But there’s more in the back.”
Carrie nodded, then blinked. “Um…is it cold?”
Caroline turned to regard her blankly. “What? Oh, yes, I think so.”
Carrie looped her arm through her grandmother’s. “Lead on, then…I’ve
got a toast to make.”
***
“Congratulations, Mr. Black, Dr. Evans. I’m so happy for all of you.” Chelsea smiled at them, then bent down to give each of the children a hug. “It’s so wonderful to see you together as a family.”
John slipped an arm around Marlena’s shoulders, wobbling slightly from several delicious glasses of champagne. Marlena was slightly steadier on her feet – as the designated driver for the evening she had carefully rationed her consumption. “It is, isn’t it?” John replied to Chelsea’s observation. “We’re so glad you could come, Chelsea. The party wouldn’t have been the same without you.” Brady nodded in vigorous agreement to his nanny, then stifled a yawn. “Oh, no,” John observed, “it looks like the troops are getting tired.”
“I noticed that,” Chelsea observed with a impish grin. “So I thought I’d offer to take them home for you. I need to pick up a few things at the house, and Sami said she’d come with me and stay with them.”
Marlena frowned and glanced about the crowd, looking for the daughter who’d avoided them so successfully the entire party. “She did?”
“She said she was really tired and wanted to turn in – something about a test today and studying all night, I think she said.”
Marlena nodded, not looking entirely convinced, but after a moment she shrugged and knelt down to speak to her children. “Is it okay with you guys if Chelsea takes you home?”
Belle’s lower lip poked out mutinously. “Don’t wanna go yet!”
Marlena smiled wryly at the unmistakable signs of overtiredness.
“That’s not an option, sweetie. It’s time for you and Brady to go to bed.

But would you rather your father and I took you home? It’s up to you guys.”

Brady spoke before Belle could do so. “We can go with Chelsea,” he offered, his expression calculating in an innocent sort of way. “But can we go swimming when we get to the new house t’morrow? You said the pool would be okay.”
John bent down to heft his son into his arms. “That’s my mercenary little slugger. We’ll see about that, okay? I’m not sure what the weather is supposed to be like, and we have a lot of moving to do. But we’ll try.”
“‘Kay.” He gave his father a smacking kiss on the cheek before scrambling down to the floor. “C’mon, Belle. C’mon, Sami.” Belle looked momentarily undecided about whether or not to throw a tantrum, but her fatigue finally won out, and she merely reached up for Chelsea’s hand.
Sami emerged from the crowd over by the front door and offered John and Marlena a distant smile, carefully keeping a few feet of floor between them. “I’m sorry about bailing out so early, but I’m really wiped out. You guys stay and have a good time, though. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She held the door open for the children, who each offered their parents a kiss goodbye before bounding out the doorway. Chelsea bade her employers farewell and then followed.
Marlena turned to John, a slight frown on her face. “I’m beginning to think something’s really bothering Sami, John. Maybe we should go after-”
“Toast time!” Carrie called loudly, her voice echoing across the room. She held up a full flute of champagne and offered the gathered crowd a tipsy grin. Caroline stood next to her, two bottles of champagne in her hands. “Everyone grab your glasses for a refill.”
Lexie stepped up to offer John and Marlena each a fresh flute as Caroline made the rounds to top off the glasses. Carrie, meanwhile, stepped up onto a chair, the better to make herself heard about the boisterous group. “Attention! Attention, everyone, I have a toast to make!” She swayed slightly, then caught her balance, grinning down at Mike, who’d put out a hand to help her stay on her feet. “Now, you all know why we’re here,” she began. “We’re here to celebrate the upcoming marriage of two people who mean the world to everyone in

this room.” Her gaze came to rest on John and Marlena, and she offered them an emotional smile. “Two people who have loved each other for years and years, through the kind of trials that would break other people. But not them…” She blinked back a few tears. “Never them…I know most of you here know how big a part of my life each of them has been, but I wanted to make sure you all understood just what John and Marlena mean to me.”

She took a deep breath and held out her hand toward Mike, who aided her in stepping down from the chair. She crossed the room to stand in front of her erstwhile parents, love and gratitude shining from her face. “When I meet people,” she began in a softer tone, audible only because of the hush that had descended over the room, “I tell them that I have four parents, all of whom have loved me unconditionally since I was a little girl. I’ve never doubted how important I am to the two of you – I’ve never been insecure, or alone, because you’ve made a home for me with each of you, no matter what.” She raised her glass. “And I could *not* be happier that you are together again, that my little brother and sister will have the family I remember with so much love from my childhood. And I love you, so very, very much.” She smiled at them, her eyes glinting with tears that were reflected in their own. She raised her voice as she offered a final toast. “To John and Marlena! May you have the happiness that you so richly deserve! “TO JOHN AND MARLENA!” the crowd echoed enthusiastically.

In the ensuing silence, as they all paused to take a drink, only one voice could be heard – Roman’s, in an angry, drunken drawl from over by the stairs.
“Well, now. Isn’t that nice.”
Chapter 89
Salem Police Officer Carolyn Pennebaker smacked the back of her recalcitrant celphone and snuck another peek through the thick glass front window into the interior of the Brady Pub. She’d been observing the engagement party for the past ten minutes, as part of her surveillance duties to her employer – not the Salem Police Department, but her *other* employer….the unofficial one…the *illegal*
one. How in the world did I get myself into this? she wondered, cursing her lack of foresight that had led her to this place and this odious assignment. She felt terrible about her role as a part-time spy

on the Black family, but consoled herself that what little she did couldn’t *really* hurt them very much. After all, simply reporting on their whereabouts didn’t harm them, did it? Or so she told herself, as she dialed the phone again with shaking fingers.

“Hello?” The voice on the other end of the phone was hard and emotionless, almost robotic. Pennebaker wondered if that were something Stefano DiMera looked for in an employee, or merely an inevitable consequence of close contact with the notorious crime lord. Will I sound like that someday?
“Bart, it’s Pennebaker.”
“Report.”
And how are *you* today? Bart wasn’t much for small talk. “Dr. Evans and Mr. Black are still at the party, along with what looks like half the town. Samantha Brady left not long ago with the two youngest children and the nanny, and Roman Brady just came down the stairs. It looks like he’s causing some kind of scene, but I’m outside, so I don’t know what he’s saying.”
“Have you been spotted?”
If I had been I wouldn’t be hanging around here, moron, Pennebaker thought, but didn’t say. Bart was annoyingly chauvinistic when it came to the DiMera empire’s female employees, but, then again, she didn’t really relish the idea of Stefano having a very high opinion of her abilities, anyway – it would only lead to more assignments, and she could barely stomach the ones she drew now. “No, no one has seen me, and they probably wouldn’t think anything of it if they did, since half the cops in the precinct are here – mostly the ones that worked with Mr. Black when he believed he was Captain Brady. And I’m not really sure about this, but it *looks* like Mr. Black has called off the heavy muscle – I haven’t seen any of the usual bodyguards hanging around, anyway.”
“He’s overconfident. Good. Get going before you’re spotted.” The conversation, such as it was, ended with a click.
“Someone needs to teach you some phone manners, Bart,” Pennebaker murmured as she slipped the phone into her purse – a high-end leather handbag that she found herself despising more and more every day, purchased as it had been with her ill-gotten gains. The money Stefano had offered her had been an irresistible lure in the

beginning, an enticing carrot that masked the looming presence of a very large, very frightening stick – the implicit threat that came with every new order issued. Fear was what drove her now, fear for herself and for her family.

She spared one more glance for the gathering inside the Pub, a
wordless – and most likely futile, in her estimation – prayer upon her
lips. Keep them safe, she implored, even as she threw them to the
wolves.
***
Bart frowned down at his phone as he wondered whom he should call first with his latest report. Stefano? Or Kristen? ***

As one, the gathered assemblage of Brady’s Pub turned its collective attention toward the foot of the stairs, where Roman stood glaring balefully across the room at John and Marlena. Reactions ranged from distressed – Caroline and Carrie – to resigned – Abe and Bo – and all the varying shades in between. John and Marlena merely regarded him silently, expressionless, an arm about each other’s waist…waiting. Shawn frowned at his son, not really disputing his right to his anger, but conscious that anything Roman might say would probably not help the situation in the least. “Roman,” he began, laying a hand on his son’s arm.
“No, Pop!” Roman spat, shaking his father’s hand off as he advanced into the room. “Don’t try to shut me up. I have a *right* to my opinion.” “I’m not arguin’ with that, son, but this ain’t the time.”
“Isn’t it?” Roman sneered, staggering slightly from the effects of an entire bottle of champagne. He halted a few inches away from Carrie, who was standing in front of John and Marlena, her arms held out in an almost defensive gesture. Her protectiveness only enraged him further. “When *should* I register my opinion on this, then – when Marlena’s walking down the aisle?” He threw a contemptuous glance over his shoulder to his father. “But *thank* you for calling me your son. I’m glad you remember *that* much, at least.”
Shawn’s cheeks reddened with frustrated anger. “There’s no call for that, now.”
Roman nodded bitterly. “Oh, yes, right, I forgot – I’m supposed to be a good *sport* about this, aren’t I? I’m supposed to accept that my

parents love another man as much as their own son. And I’m supposed to *understand* that their” he gestured to John and Marlena “oh-so-*great* love simply couldn’t be denied.” He turned back to Marlena, his expression alive with hurt and anger, his tone scathing. “I’m supposed to be in *awe* of your ability to overcome all the obstacles in your way – things like *me*, like our *marriage*, like the vows you and I made to each other. You know – small, trivial, unimportant things like that.”

Marlena could feel the rising tension in John’s rigid form as Roman centered his attack on her. She leaned a bit closer into his side, her arm tightening about his waist. “No one is denying you have a right to your feelings, Roman,” she said quietly.
He raised his eyebrows, his lips curling derisively. “Aren’t they? Aren’t *you*?” His gaze bored into her with lethal intensity, silently willing her to recognize his lingering rights as her husband.
Bo stepped up to take his brother’s arm, but Roman shook off his touch angrily. “This is none of your business, Bo. This is between them and me.”
“So take it up with them later,” Bo replied. “Don’t do it here, man. Not now.”
Roman shot a glare toward his younger brother. “Why not? *I’m* not embarrassed. I have nothing to hide, nothing to be ashamed of. If *they* do, that’s *their problem.”
Bo eyed him with an expression of mounting disgust, taking in his unsteady gait and dilated pupils. “You are *drunk*, man.”
“What if I am?” Roman shot back. “It’s a *party*, little brother, or weren’t you aware? We’re all here to show John and Marlena *exactly* how we feel about them, and that’s *all* I am doing.” Bo turned away, frustrated, and Carrie stepped up to take his place. “Daddy, please don’t do this.”
“Oh, I’m *Daddy* again, am I? Why’s that? Is it a full moon, or do you want something from me?” He slapped his forehead theatrically. “Oh, that’s right, you’re afraid I’ll ruin your little party – you know, the one you’ve thrown for your *favorite* parents.” He threw the words to her toast back in her face with visible relish, and she flinched away from his vindictive tone.
“Leave her out of this, Roman,” John muttered, drawing Carrie away

with a gentle hand. “Your quarrel isn’t with Carrie.”

“No, my quarrel is with *you*,” he agreed, before turning to Marlena, his voice lowering just a bit, “and with you.”
Marlena regarded him with a forthright, clear-eyed gaze, her expression calm. “I’m not denying you have every right to feel however you feel,” she repeated. “I’m just not willing to accept responsibility for it.”
“Of course not!” he shot back. “When have you *ever* done that? From the very *moment* I found out that you had betrayed me, all you did was make excuses for your actions – trying to make it seem like *I* was the unreasonable one for not wanting to *share* my wife with the bastard who stole my life. Roman Augustus Brady, the idiot who had the unmitigated gall to expect his wife to be faithful!”
Her calm expression remained, but the dark flashing of her eyes indicated rising temper. “I will not debate this with you anymore, Roman,” she said through gritted teeth. “You know the facts of what Stefano did to John as well as anyone – and if a life was truly stolen through his actions, it certainly wasn’t yours! And as for making excuses, I’m not doing that, and I don’t really believe I ever did.” Her arm fell away from John’s waist as she stepped forward, her gaze boring into Roman’s angry face. “I slept with him while I was married to you…is that what you want to hear? I cheated on you. I committed adultery. I broke our vows and our trust, and I deserved to be divorced and deserted, and our children deserved to lose their father in all but name. Is that it? Have I agreed with you enough? Will you let it go now?”
“See, you’re doing it again,” he returned, exasperated. “You’re making it sound like our breakup was *MY* fault!”
“Who filed for divorce?” John interjected heatedly, unable to remain silent any longer. “Who left town, and his family, and his *children*?” Roman’s angry gaze snapped to John’s face. “Oh, don’t you *even* start with me, you bastard – you *VULTURE*! Always hanging around, waiting for Doc and me to have problems so you could swoop in and take her away.” His gaze slid momentarily to Carrie, who raised her chin defiantly and edged closer to John’s side. “Using *my* children to insinuate your way into *my* family.”
“I have *never*, *ever* used a child, and I never would!” John shot

back. “Not as a way into *your* family or anywhere else – not as some kind of weapon – NEVER!” His eyes narrowed to angry slits, his voice lowering to a bitter hiss. “Unlike *some* people I know.”

Roman stepped up to John, jabbing a finger into the other man’s chest. “What the hell is *that* supposed to mean?”
“How many days do you have?” John retorted. “Where should I begin?
How about that whole ‘I’ll love you if you toe the line’ routine you
always pull on Carrie? Or the way you used Sami’s pain and confusion

to bludgeon Marlena for destroying your family? Or the way you
ordered Doc out of the house and threatened to keep Belle and Sami
away from her forever?”
“I-”
“Don’t *even* bother to deny it!” John cut him off, deliberately echoing Roman’s earlier phrasing. “Everything with you is about ownership, isn’t it? *My* wife, *my* family, *my* children, *my* house, *my* job – you’re like the most annoying, whiny five-year-old in the entire world!” “John,” Marlena put in, laying a hand on his arm.
“No, Doc,” Roman told her, a shark’s smile appearing on his face. “Don’t stop him – this is so *interesting*, don’t you think? So, what are you saying? Little things like ‘marriage vows’ don’t matter a damn to you? It’s a good thing you’re not a priest anymore, isn’t it? But I don’t know why any of this should surprise me – you did, after all, do the same thing to Tony DiMera that you did to me. John Black, Superstud, out to sleep with every married woman in the world!” “Shut up!” John snapped furiously.
Roman raised his eyebrows. “Is that it? Is that all you can say? ‘Shut up’? Not much of a comeback, but then, I don’t suppose there’s much you can say to combat the truth, now is there?”
“I have owned up to every single wrong thing I have ever done to you or anyone else,” John retorted. “I acknowledged them, I begged for forgiveness for them, and I beat myself up over them – and just because you didn’t stick around to see it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen!” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “But you know what else, Roman? I got over them, too. And that’s the thing that you just can’t ever quite force yourself to do, isn’t it? You live your life like it’s still twenty years ago, and you can’t understand why the rest of us aren’t willing to go along for the ride. You want your children to be

babies again, you want Doc to never have even *met* me, you want to pretend that Stefano never stripped *years* from all of our lives…” His tone dripped with derision. “Well, let *me* tell *you* something, Roman Augustus Brady – not only is that not *possible*, the *rest* of us think it’s a pretty damn bad idea! So GET *OVER* IT!”

“Get over it,” Roman repeated, disbelieving. “Get *over* it? Get over losing everyone I have *ever* loved? Get over reliving eight years worth of dreams in a goddamn dungeon?” He blinked back tears of frustration, his voice fading to a hoarsewhisper. “Get over losing the little girl that held all my hopes for the future?”
Marlena felt an unwelcome pang of sympathy at the naked pain in his eyes. She reached for John’s arm, pulling his attention away from Roman, and recognized the frustration in her fiance’s expression. She felt the same sensation – a mounting impatience over Roman’s unwillingness to accept reality, and it muted whatever empathy she might have felt for him. “You aren’t the only one who has been hurt, Roman,” she said, forcing an even tone. “But it’s time to move on.”
Roman regarded her incredulously. “How? How do you move on from something like that?”
“You just *do*,” John said, sighing heavily. “Do you think you’re the only one who has ever felt pain, Roman? Look around this room, for God’s sake! We *all* know what you’ve been through – and most of us have been through something just as bad or worse.” He held up a hand to forestall Roman’s indignant retort. “I – lost – my – *life*!” he enunciated, spitting the words like bullets. “For all intents and purposes, I’ve been alive for about fourteen years, thanks to Stefano’s brainwashing. And then I found out that the life I lived for six of them was a *lie*! *I* lost a wife, *I* lost children, and a job, and a home…and then I lost Isabella, too.” Roman’s hard expression never wavered. “I-”
“You’re going to say that you’ve heard it all before, aren’t you?” John interjected. “Well, that’s the point, Roman. *Everyone’s* heard it, because it’s history – over and done with – been there, done that… It is the *PAST*! And everyone else has managed to move on – to live their lives in the *now*, not the *then*. Why won’t you do the same?”
“Why won’t I make it easy for the two of you, you mean,” Roman sneered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Marlena had had enough. “We don’t require your permission, or your blessing, or anything else, Roman,” she snapped. “You don’t get a vote. John and I are getting married, with or without your approval. We’re moving into the new house with our children and Sami and Will, and we’re going to be very, very happy. And I’m sorry if that causes you pain, but it’s going to happen, so you might as well start dealing with it.”

“And if I don’t want to?” he replied, his eyes glinting dangerously. “Then that’s too damn bad,” John deadpanned, “because it doesn’t make the slightest bit of difference to us. All you’ll be doing is making yourself miserable, and those around you who still have the stomach to care. You’ll be hurting your parents and your children, but you won’t be hurting us.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed on John’s expression, and he was enraged anew by the smugness he perceived there. “You think you’ve got it all, don’t you? You think you’ve got the brass ring, the winning lotto ticket, and the sweepstakes prize all rolled into one, don’t you?” His tone dripped disdain. “Well, enjoy it while it lasts, *buddy*, because I’ve been there, and I’ve felt that – and I know you’ll lose it all soon enough. And *I* might just be the one to take it from you.”
John raised an eyebrow. “Is that a *threat*?” he asked mildly, almost scornfully.
“It’s a *promise*,” Roman retorted, incensed at the idea that he wasn’t being taken seriously. “You think I can’t hurt you – you think you’ve turned everyone I love against me, brought everyone I care about over to your side, but you’re *wrong*. You’re *dead* wrong. I’ll take away what you value most, and I’ll laugh in your face while you wonder what the hell went wrong. You’ll never even see it coming.” He pinned John with one last malevolent glare. “And that *is* a promise.” He spun on his heel, staggering only slightly, and stalked back toward the stairs.
John rubbed his forehead tiredly as Roman disappeared up the steps. “Damn.”
Carrie turned to Marlena, her eyes swimming with tears of burning misery. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
“It’s not your fault,” Marlena admonished her as she enveloped her in a hug. “I don’t want you to feel guilty, or to blame yourself for anything. You’ve done nothing wrong, sweetie.”

Carrie gave her shoulders one last squeeze, then let go. “He’s just *so* incredibly unhappy. I mean, I can see it in his eyes, and I know that’s why he’s lashing out at everyone, and maybe I should be sympathetic, but…” she closed her eyes, sighed, and shook her head “…I’m just *not*. All I feel is angry, and frustrated. *Why* does he have to be like this?”

John reached out to tip her chin up with his index finger, and she opened her eyes and looked at him. “Listen to me,” he ordered firmly, “Roman’s problems are not *your* problems, all right? You cannot *make* him accept this, nor make it hurt him any less. He’ll just have to come around eventually on his own.” He cracked a small smile. “After all, Doc and I are going to be married for a *very*, *very* long time, so he’ll have plenty of years to get used to it, won’t he?” Carrie managed a wan smile at his quip.
“All right,” she said. “I guess you’re right…and I guess there’s nothing I can do about it, anyway.” She inhaled deeply, then nodded, squaring her shoulders. “I’m just glad the kids weren’t here – Sami, either. I don’t think she needs any more stress right now.”
Marlena frowned, momentarily distracted from Roman’s tirade. “You
noticed it, too? I’m really getting worried about her.” She and John
traded glances. “Tomorrow, before the move, I think we should have a
little talk with Samantha.”
***
Sami sat slumped on the living room couch, blinking blearily at the coffee table in front of her. It swam in and out of focus in time to her pulsebeat, a sussuration that pounded loudly inside her head, bursting in repeated stabs of white-hot pain against her fever-bright skin. What is wrong with me? she wondered unsteadily as an empty bottle of Nyquil fell unnoticed from her fingers to the floor. She had merely snatched up the first available container in the downstairs medicine cabinet before staggering into the living room, depressingly certain that nothing she ingested would be likely to help her anyway. Vaguely she recognized the increasingly frightening prospect that her martyr’s frame of mind had stranded her alone for several hours with only two small children to aid her. Her symptoms seemed to be worsening exponentially, and the cough that she’d managed to stifle for days was now completely out of control. Her throat tasted of bitter bile, and her

breathing drew increasingly shallow.

Her fevered thoughts flitted momentarily to the two children sleeping above the stairs. Did I put them into their pajamas?…Did Chelsea? The whole ride home and subsequent pre- bedtime activities remained a confusing blur, though she had a vague recollection of Chelsea advising her to see a doctor before her departure. Good idea….
Eventually, inevitably, Sami’s eyes closed, and she lay back against the cushions, lapsing into an uncomfortable, troubled sleep. ***

“Interesting party, wasn’t it?” commented Bella editor Stacy Krugman, smiling at her premier writer as she sipped her final glass of champagne.
“Mmm-hmm,” DeAnn Smith agreed, flipping through her ever- present notebook. “And I thought some of *my* exes were bad.”
Stacy leaned over and tried to decipher her employee’s cryptic scribbling. “Were you taking *notes* on their argument?” she asked, pointing to a particularly pithy passage.
DeAnn shrugged. “Yes – I think it was more a reflex action than anything else. After writing the article on Isabella’s legacy, I suppose I feel somewhat proprietary about their story. It really has everything, doesn’t it? True love, betrayal, glorious reconciliations, brainwashing, amnesia, beautiful children…” She regarded the affianced couple standing over by the front door with a speculative gaze. “In fact, it might make a good movie, don’t you think?” Stacy laughed. “Yeah, right. Who’d believe it?”
DeAnn considered the idea for a moment. “You may have a point.”
***
Maggie hugged Marlena warmly as she congratulated her friend again on her engagement. “I’m so happy for the two of you – but I mentioned that already, didn’t I?” Standing next to her, Mickey grinned and shook John’s hand.
“You did,” Marlena laughed, “but we’re always glad to hear it. Thank you so much for coming to the party.”
“Wouldn’t have missed it,” Mickey replied. “And it was a lot of fun except for…well…” his gaze flicked toward the back stairs “…I’m glad Roman decided not to make a reappearance.” Maggie jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow, and he belatedly realized that his remark was

ill-timed. “Um…”

“It’s all right, Mickey,” Marlena reassured him. “I agree with you – I’m glad he stayed upstairs for the rest of the party. And Shawn went up to check on him a few hours ago, so I assume he’s okay now – though Shawn really didn’t tell us much. But I’m sure Roman will be all right eventually.”
“The key word being *eventually*,” John put in.
Maggie rolled her eyes and nodded her agreement. “When he’s not quite so far gone on alcohol.”
Marlena grimaced. “Good point. Drive safely, you two.”
“We will.”
Marlena and John turned back toward the party as Mickey and Maggie departed through the front door. “You okay, Doc?” John asked quietly. “I’m sorry Roman did that. I hadn’t had a chance to tell you yet, what with every man in the place wanting to dance with you, but I really *am* sorry.”
She gave him a swift kiss on the cheek. “You have no more need to apologize than Carrie does. You are not responsible for Roman’s actions. And, anyway, his little tirade was a mere ten minutes out of an entire wonderful evening – so let’s not dwell on it, okay?”
“You’re right,” he agreed, capturing her lips for a more satisfying exchange.
“Hey, you two,” Bo said, interrupting them as he approached with Billie, “great party, but we’re outta here.”
Billie offered them a wan smile as she adjusted her iron grip on Bo’s arm. “Yes. I’m sorry to pull Bo away before the end of the party, but I’m still feeling pretty tired, and he’s going to drive me home.”
Marlena nodded. “Of course you’re tired, and you need to be sure to take good care of yourself. We were very sorry to hear about your loss, Billie…Bo. There’s no worse pain in the world than the sorrow of losing a child.” John’s arm slipped around Marlena’s waist, comforting her as they both remembered the baby she had miscarried months ago. Aaron…
“I don’t know what I would do without Bo to help me through it,” Billie agreed, as Bo grew visibly more uncomfortable with every passing moment. “But I think things like this can sometimes bring two people even closer together, don’t you?”

“Um, sure,” John replied. Maybe in our case…but I have my doubts about yours… The agony of guilt and misery in Bo’s face was uncomfortably familiar to John – the countenance that had stared back at him from the mirror during all the months he’d been with Kristen had looked remarkably similar to Bo’s expression now. He’d noticed the longing glances Bo and Hope had given each other throughout the evening, glances that didn’t bode well for the future of Bo and Billie’s marriage. But he said nothing else, and merely bade them goodnight.

Marlena glanced up at him once Bo and Billie had departed. “I have a feeling that marriage won’t last much longer,” she murmured under her breath.
“That’s one wager I won’t take you up on,” John agreed as they approached the wall that held the dartboard, where Carrie stood next to Mike, Shawn and Caroline. “Hey, Punkin, thank you for a wonderful party.”
Carrie hugged both of them. “Well, thank you for giving me the opportunity to throw it by doing me the honor of getting engaged.” “Anytime,” Marlena grinned, then sobered as she beheld Shawn’s troubled expression. “Are you all right, Shawn?”
“What?” he said. “Oh, yes, I’m fine. I was just…thinking.” His normally jovial countenance looked pale and drawn.
“About Roman?” she wondered quietly after a moment.
He didn’t look up to meet her gaze. “No…just…it’s nothing, Marlena. I’d best be shutting down the bar.” He turned and left.
“He’s upset about Dad,” Carrie stated. “Damn him anyway for trying to ruin this for everyone.”
“Don’t say that, Carrie,” Caroline admonished her. “Your father is just having a hard time dealing with all of this.”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “Yes, well, whatever. Come on, Mike, we’d probably better get started with decorations removal – maybe you’ll be a little better at this end of it.” Her impish smile drained the sting from her words, but Mike offered her a playful punch anyway. She laughed and ducked away from him, hiding behind John as the phone on the bar rang.
Shawn picked up the receiver on the third ring. “Hello, Brady’s Pub, Shawn speaking…What? Sami, is that you?…It’s your Grandpa, tell me what’s…all right, just a minute, I’ll get him.” He frowned down at

the phone, drawing their attention to his puzzled expression.

John and Marlena leaned against the bar. “Is that Sami? Is something wrong?”
“She wants to talk to her father,” he told them in a neutral tone.
“I’ll go get him,” Carrie offered grimly. She vanished up the steps before Shawn could protest, and reemerged shortly thereafter with an expressionless Roman. Shawn wordlessly held out the receiver, and Roman took it, his gaze sliding over their small gathering as though no one at all was there. His return to the Pub drew the attention of all those remaining, however, and Abe and Lexie edged closer to the group.
“Sami, it’s Daddy.” He placed a slight emphasis on the final word.
Am I imagining it, or is he gloating? John wondered, but Marlena’s arm around his waist did a lot to quell any renewed frustration he might have felt at Roman’s attitude.
Roman continued to speak, oblivious to John’s internal musings. “No, it *is* Daddy, honey, what’s wrong?…Sami, I am your father, who else would I be? What?…You’re not making any sense, peanut…’Pickle ice cream?’ – What does that *mean*?”
“Give me that!” John ordered, snatching the phone from Roman’s hand.
“Now wait just a goddamn min-” Roman began, incensed, but John cut him off with a scowl and a rude gesture.
“Daddy’s here, Sami – the answer is peanut butter Cheetos,” John said, to the collective puzzlement of everyone in the group except for Carrie. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?…What? Sami? *Sami*!” He looked up at them, eyes wide, as his hand fell away. “She hung up.”
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Roman sputtered angrily. “And what the hell do *Cheetos* have to do with anything?”
“It was our code phrase,” Carrie explained hurriedly, her worried gaze locked on John’s face, “so that we’d know it was okay to go with an officer if he had to send someone else to pick us up. Sami and Eric got to pick the codes, and they decided to use the foods that they ate to gross each other out. Sami chose pickle ice cream, and Eric chose peanut butter Cheetos.”
“Well, that’s all very nice, Carrie,” Roman muttered, his tone telling everyone that he found it anything *but*, “but why would she be

babbling about that on the phone? She sounded very strange.”

“She did,” John agreed. “She sounded out of it – but I don’t think she had anything to drink tonight, did she? I mean, she left *hours* ago – she couldn’t still be tipsy from the champagne.”
“She didn’t drink anything,” Carrie confirmed. “What did she *say*, John?”
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Nothing! Just ‘pickle ice cream’ over and over. And-” he frowned, searching his memory, “something about ‘crying’…”
“She was *crying*?” Marlena exclaimed.
John shook his head. “No, no, she said the word ‘crying’…In fact, I think she said, ‘The baby’s crying.'”
“But Will’s staying at the Kiriakis mansion with Lucas tonight,” Caroline pointed out, as she remembered Lucas’ smug reply to her query on the whereabouts of her grandson. “And Brady and Belle aren’t babies any more.” She cocked her head to the side, puzzled. “What could she have meant by that, dear?”
John shook his head again. “I don’t know, she didn’t say anything else. That’s when the phone went dead.”
“We should go,” Marlena said quickly as a feeling of utter dread began to pervade her entire being. “We should go home right now.”
John nodded his agreement and they turned toward the door, pausing momentarily when Roman growled, “I’m going with you,” and started after them. They traded dubious glances, then shrugged in unison, and all three of them strode swiftly out of the Pub. Abe and Lexie looked at each other, and then glanced toward Carrie, Mike, Shawn and Caroline.
“We’ll go, too,” they chorused in worried tones, and turned to follow. Carrie pressed her lips together, feeling very shaken for some reason by the unearthing of their childhood identification ritual. All those years ago John had tried to make the code-word phrasing into a game, but Carrie had been old enough to realize that it wasn’t a game, not really. Just another reminder, as if she had required one, that her father had held a very dangerous job, and that life was a very precarious thing. “What do you suppose is wrong with Sami, Mike?” she murmured.
He shrugged, and the rigid tension in his shoulders gave away his own sense of deep unease. “I don’t know.”

Chapter 90

Marlena’s knuckles were white where her fingers gripped the dashboard, and she glanced at the speedometer of Abe’s four- wheel-drive with mounting impatience. “Can’t you go any faster, Abe?” she implored.
His own fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “It wouldn’t help Sami if we were to get into an accident, Marlena. I’m going as fast as I can.” He softened his tone in response to her wild-eyed worry. “Besides, we aren’t even sure anything is wrong at home. It could be nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” she snapped. “I *know* something is wrong, I can feel it.”
“She’s right, Abe,” Roman chimed in from the back seat, startling them all with the first words he had uttered since they’d piled into the car in the Pub parking lot. Abe had insisted on driving them, as he was the only one who hadn’t indulged in any champagne at all at the engagement party – Marlena had agreed and immediately climbed into the front seat, leaving Lexie to negotiate a position between John and Roman in the back. Marlena’s brief glance to her friend had contained a hint of an apology, but Lexie acknowledged that her uncomfortable situation was the lesser of two evils. Neither John nor Roman would take the front seat in place of a ‘lady’ – out of both an instinctive gentlemanliness and an unhealthy competitiveness – and Lexie was a much less incendiary seat divider than Marlena would have been.
That was not to say that she was comfortable sitting squashed between them, as palpable anger and worry emanated from her seatmates in searing waves. “Arguing isn’t going to help the situation,” she put in sharply, “and a few seconds isn’t going to make a difference. Leave Abe alone.” Her own peevish tone startled her – apparently the hostile environment in the car was having a negative effect on her. But she managed a slight nod in response to Abe’s grateful glance in the mirror.
Roman glared at her briefly before resuming his stare out the window.
Marlena also subsided, closing her eyes and forcing herself to lean
back against the front seat, confronting visions of who-knew-what
behind her eyelids. And John, seated stiffly next to her with his jaw
clenched, said nothing at all.
***

Austin emerged from the Pub’s kitchen, where he had been storing the various empty platters that had once contained hors d’oeuvres, and scanned the room for his once – and he hoped *future* – fiancee. He spotted Carrie over by the bar – with *Mike*, of course – and approached her, his expression determinedly calm, concealing the now-accustomed anger at seeing them together. They were staring at the front door with identical expressions of deep concern. “What’s wrong?” Austin asked, trying to sound as though he cared. “Where are John and Marlena?”

Carrie glanced over at him, and then back to Mike. “They left – they went home.”
Austin frowned down at her. “So? Why do you look so worried?”
She bit her lip. “Sami called, and she was acting really weird. They went to the house to check on her, and Dad and Abe and Lexie went with them.”
Austin shrugged dismissively. “I’m sure she’s all right – you know Sami, she’s always in some kind of strange mood. You should probably worry more about your dad being alone with John and Marlena. He looked like he was going to punch John out when he crashed the party earlier.”
“I know.” Carrie rubbed her hands up and down her upper arms, as if
trying to ward off a sudden chill. “And I hope that’s all it is, really.” She
glanced at Mike again, seeing perfect understanding in his eyes. “But,
unfortunately, I don’t think so…”
***
Abe waved them back from the front door as he unsheathed his gun and slipped John’s key into the lock. “I’m the only one who’s armed,” he hissed when Roman made as if to join him. “Just wait a minute.” Roman glared but backed away, narrowly avoiding bumping into Lexie’s medical bag, which she had extracted from the car ‘just in case’. Marlena eyed it worriedly.
The door clicked open, and Abe vanished into the gloom within. A moment later he was back, his dark face ashen. “Lexie, get in here, *now*.”
The rest of them pushed their way in after her, and with a low cry Marlena rushed to her daughter’s side.
Sami lay half on, half off of the couch, her outstretched arm resting

next to the abandoned phone receiver, which buzzed with querulous monotony. Her face was hidden by a curtain of blonde hair, but the sound of her labored breathing was audible even from across the room.

John caught Marlena’s arm and held her back as Lexie began a cursory examination. Roman spared his daughter one anguished glance before joining Abe in scouring the downstairs for unwanted intruders. Abe had started up the stairs to check the bedrooms when Lexie stopped him by uttering her preliminary findings. “No trauma. She hasn’t been attacked, but she has a *very* high fever and her skin has a bluish tinge…her pulse is very rapid…” She held out her hand, and Marlena extracted a stethoscope from the bag and slapped it into Lexie’s outstretched palm. Lexie rolled Sami over onto her back and pressed the pad to her chest. Marlena bit back another cry at the sight of Sami’s damp, flushed cheeks; her insensate daughter responded with a weak, wet cough.
“Congestion in her lungs,” Lexie snapped, looking up to pin John with an impatient glance. “We’ve got to get her to the hospital.”
“Do you want me to call an ambulance?” John asked, his voice cracking just a little.
“No time. Pick her up, we’ll take her in the car. There’s room for her to lay down in the back seat.”
“I’ll carry her,” Roman muttered darkly, fairly shoving John out of the way in his haste to get to his daughter.
Marlena gripped John’s hands as though they were a lifeline, and her terrified gaze sought Lexie’s. “What’s wrong with her?”
Lexie shook her head, now fully locked into doctor-mode. “I don’t know. It could be a number of things, and some of them are worse than others. But her fever is much too high, and the sound of her breathing worries me.” Roman stood up, staggering only slightly under his daughter’s weight. “We need to get going.”
They started for the door, before a sudden thought brought Marlena up short. “The children-”
“I’ll take them over to the Horton Center,” John said. “I’m sure Maggie wouldn’t mind watching them. And then I’ll meet you at the hospital as soon as I can, all right? Just get going.” He kissed her swiftly, a bit desperately, and she nodded, blinking back tears.

“We won’t all fit,” Abe realized suddenly, “not if Sami needs to lie down in the back seat.” He turned to John. “Is your jeep here?”

John shook his head. “We took it to the party. Doc’s car is here, but *I’m* going to need it to get to the hospital after I take care of the kids. But you or-” he glanced from Marlena to Roman and then back to Abe, “-well, *you* could wait and go withme to the Horton Center.”
“Then I’ll drive,” Marlena offered, instantly seeing the problem. “I didn’t have much to drink, and it was hours ago, anyway. Lexie can fit in the back with Sami and Roman can ride up front.”
“Let’s just *go*!” Roman nearly yelled as he carried his daughter down the front walk.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” John promised Marlena as she moved past him. She hugged him quickly but forcefully, and dashed out into the night.
As the door slammed shut, John’s gaze met Abe’s. “She looked really bad, Abe.”
Privately, Abe agreed, but he knew it wouldn’t do any good to say so. “Lexie will take care of her until they get to the hospital, John, and I’m sure she’ll be just fine once they get there and start her on antibiotics or something.”
John studied Abe’s face for a moment, as if attempting to gauge his friend’s sincerity. Finally, he nodded. “I’ll go corral the kids.” He turned toward the stairs, then paused, snapping his fingers. “Damn, I forgot. I’d better give Carrie a call.” He extracted his celphone and dialed the number to the Pub.
Carrie broke off mid-comment to Austin and leapt toward the bar to
snatch up the phone. “Hello?”
“Carrie, it’s John.”
“John! What’s going on? Is everything okay?”
She could hear his sigh from down the line. “No, punkin, I’m afraid not. Your sister’s really sick – Marlena, Lexie and Roman just took her to the hospital. I’m going to get the kids squared away and meet them there. Tell your grandparents, all right? I’ll see you in a few minutes.” The phone clicked off.
Mike regarded her anxiously. “What? What’s wrong?”
She laid the receiver down gently in the cradle, trying to steady her shaking fingers. “Sami’s really sick,” she whispered.

Austin frowned. “What’s wrong with her?”

Carrie darted around the bar to grab her purse from under the counter. “John didn’t say – they probably don’t know yet. But Marlena and Dad just took her to the hospital. I’ve got to get over there. Can you give me a ride, Mike?”
Mike’s “Sure” was drowned out by Austin’s determined, “*I’ll* give you a ride.”
“No,” she told Austin, “you have to stay here and tell Grandma and Grandpa about Sami the minute they get back from designated driving.”
“*Mike* can do that.”
“*Mike’s* a doctor,” she countered, “and he can do Sami a lot more good than you can right now. Come on, Mike, let’s go.”
An upset Austin watched them leave. Lucas, reentering the Pub from the back hallway that housed the restrooms, walked over to his brother. “Where did Mike and Carrie go?” he asked in an suggestive tone.
Austin rounded on him, finally finding a target for all his pent-up frustration. “I am *so* sick of listening to you make insinuations about Carrie and Mike. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Just shut the hell up, Lucas!”
“I didn’t insinuate anything,” Lucas replied archly, not quite hiding a smirk. “But I did just see them leave together, did I not?”
“They were going to the hospital,” Austin informed him angrily, “because the mother of *your* son has been taken to the emergency room. Not that *you* would give a damn.” Lucas paled. “Sami’s in the hospital?”
Austin nodded, glaring at his half-brother. “Yes. Apparently she’s very sick. So, I guess you might just get your wish, huh? You know, the one you told me about wanting Sami to vanish from your life? What’d you do, Lucas – poison her champagne?”
Lucas blinked and looked away. “I-…I have to go. I have to go to the hospital.”
Austin rolled his eyes toward the ceiling as his brother turned toward
the door.
***
Marlena pulled up to the Emergency Entrance of University Hospital

with a sharp squeal of tires. She slammed on the brakes and pulled the key from the ignition, then leaned over the front seat to check on her daughter. “Lexie?” she asked in a voice full of controlled fear.

As if in response, Sami began to choke and convulse. “Damn it,” Lexie cried, “she’s in distress! We’ve got to get her inside, *now*!”
Roman jumped down from his seat and slammed the front door, calling for emergency personnel as he reached around to open the back one. A woman Marlena recognized as Dr. Paradis from the ER was first on the scene, as Roman’s shout had interrupted a timely cigarette break. “Dr. Carver,” she said as she recognized Lexie. “What’s the situation?”
“Respiratory distress,” Lexie replied crisply as an orderly wheeled a stretcher to the curb. “High fever, rapid pulse, lung congestion – she hasn’t been conscious for at least twenty minutes, probably longer.” Dr. Paradis and the orderly deftly maneuvered Sami from the car and onto the stretcher, and began to push it rapidly toward the building, even as Lexie continued her ministrations. “We need to intubate, get a chest X-ray and CBC…”
Marlena and Roman followed them, shell-shocked, as the doctors emitted a litany of medical jargon that reminded Marlena incongruously of an episode of the television show ER. “Lung needle biopsy?” Dr. Paradis suggested as they disappeared behind a curtain. Lexie’s response was lost in the melee.
Marlena turned to Roman, wide-eyed with fear. “Oh, my God, Roman!” Instinctively he pulled her into a hug. “She’s going to be okay,” he whispered, as if the words could make it so. He buried his face in her hair. “She’s going to be okay. She *has* to be.” Marlena squeezed her eyes shut and began to pray.
***
John eased the door to his son’s room open and blinked into the gloom, which was relieved only by a small, baseball-shaped nightlight. “Son?” he called softly, not wanting to frighten the little boy out of a sound sleep. “Slugger? You need to wake up.”
There was no response. John ran his hand up the wall until he found the light switch. He flipped it on. “Brady?” Both of the bunkbeds were empty.
***

Carrie flew into the ER, Mike at her heels. He made a beeline for the curtain that concealed Sami, while she peeled off to question Marlena and Roman, who were standing off to the side, frozen incongruously in place amid the frenzy surrounding them. “How is she?”

Marlena swallowed and gently disengaged herself from under Roman’s arm, reaching out to pull Carrie into a hug. “Not good, sweetheart,” she whispered. “She went into convulsions in the car on the way over here.”
Even as unschooled in medicine as she was, Carrie found that news ominous. “But she’s going to be okay, right?”
“Of course she is,” Roman put in, imbuing his voice with false heartiness as he squeezed Carrie’s shoulder. “She’s going to be just fine. Your sister’s a very strong little girl.”
As worried as she was, a small part of Carrie still managed to find that description of her sister irritating. John was right – he *is* still stuck in the past. She turned to Marlena. “Marlena?”
“I don’t know, Carrie,” Marlena murmured distractedly, her attention riveted on the curtain. “Her symptoms are very severe. I just don’t understand how she could become so ill so *quickly*.”
A queasy ball of unease uncurled in Carrie’s stomach as she recalled Sami’s behavior over the past few days. “Maybe it wasn’t all that quickly,” she offered in a quiet tone.
Marlena’s gaze snapped to Carrie’s face. “What do you mean?”
“Well, she *has* been acting weird for the past couple of days. I thought it was just Sami being Sami, but…what if she *was* sick? And we just didn’t notice…”
Marlena stared at Carrie for a long moment, before finally shaking her head. “No, no, that can’t be right. That’s not like Sami at all. Even when she was a little girl, she *loved* being sick, because it made her the center of attention. Why would she hide her illness from us?”
Carrie blinked, realizing that the effects of Marlena’s amnesia were manifesting themselves once again in much more subtle ways. “She’s not like that anymore, Marlena,” Carrie murmured, averting her gaze uncomfortably toward her father. He couldn’t meet her eyes. “She doesn’t…she doesn’t depend on people like that anymore. She only lets people into her life on her own terms…and she *hates* being out of control.”

“But that’s…” Marlena’s voice trailed off, and she closed her eyes, pained. “That’s horrible.”

Carrie nodded, hugging her arms to her chest. “Yes. It is.” ***
John tried to keep incipient panic from his tone as he glanced wildly about his son’s empty bedroom. “Brady!” he called, his voice echoing loudly in the silence of the house.
He waited a beat, and was about to shout for Abe when a muffled voice replied, “Daddy?”
His shoulders sagged in relief. “Slugger? Yes, it’s Daddy. Where are you?”
His son’s small form emerged from underneath the bottom bunkbed, and he scrambled to his feet to race toward John. “Daddy!” he cried, wrapping his arms around his father’s leg.
John bent down to lift his son up into his arms. “Brady? What’s the matter, son? Why were you under the bed?”
Brady rubbed sleepy eyes with one small fist. “Noisy,” he replied, yawning hugely. “Scared me.”
John hugged him tightly. “I’m sorry, Slugger. We didn’t mean to scare you. But your big sister’s sick, and Mommy and Roman and Aunt Lexie had to take her to see the doctor. I’m going to take you and your sister over to stay with Aunt Maggie, okay?”
Brady blinked at him, clearly troubled, but made no reply. John kissed
him on the forehead. “Let’s get your stuff together and go get your
sister.”
***
The moment Mike emerged from behind the curtain, Roman, Marlena and Carrie converged upon him. “Mike?” Marlena asked anxiously. “How is she?”
His expression was grave. “We’ve got her stabilized for the moment – we managed to stop the convulsions.”
“What caused them?” Marlena quickly returned. “What’s *wrong* with her, Mike?”
“It looks like a very severe bacterial infection, which caused esophageal stricture – we had to intubate her to keep the airway open, and we’re giving her oxygen.”
“So she’s going to be okay, right?” Roman put in. “We got her here in

time. I mean, bacterial infections aren’t too hard to fix, are they? You just have to give her the right drugs.”

“As soon as we get a few test results, we’ll know more, Roman. Right now it’s too early to make a prognosis.”
“What tests have you ordered?” Marlena queried briskly.
“Chest X-ray, CBC-” he glanced at Carrie “-uh, complete blood count, and a lung needle biopsy with culture.”
Marlena paled a bit. “You think it’s pneumonia, don’t you?” “Pneumonia?” Roman put in. “But that’s nothing – you can cure that, no problem, right?”
Mike grimaced slightly. “Are you sure you’re a psychiatrist and not a diagnostician, Marlena? Yes, we suspect anaerobic pneumonia. Unfortunately, Roman, this type of pneumonia is more severe than the more common forms, with the accompanying difficulties in treatment.” “Lung abscess?” Marlena wondered nervously.
“We’re worried about that, among other things. If the swelling in her throat doesn’t begin to abate, she may not be able to continue breathing on her own, and we’ll have to put her on a respirator. Right now we’ve started her on broad-spectrum antibiotics and cold packs to bring down the fever.”
“Can we see her?” Carrie asked.
“Not just yet. Look, I need to get back in there. I’ll come back out as soon as there’s news.” He turned to go, and Carrie stopped him with a hand on his arm.
“Thanks, Mike. Thanks for everything.”
He smiled. “I’m just glad I’m here to help.”
Carrie watched him walk back behind the curtain. “Yeah, me too.” ***
John and Brady ran into Abe in the hallway as they exited the little boy’s bedroom. “Need any help, you two?” Abe asked.
“Take the slugger here downstairs, would you? I’m going to go get Belle.” He handed Abe Brady’s overnight bag and then the somnolent boy himself. Brady blinked once, then settled against Abe’s shoulder.
“Oof, but you’re getting big, aren’t you?” Abe whispered, smiling. “We’ll meet you downstairs,” he told John.
John nodded and proceeded down the hall to Belle’s room. He knocked lightly on the door. “Belle, honey? It’s Daddy.” Once again his

query was greeted by silence. He eased the door open. “Honey, you have to wake up. Belle?” He switched on the light, and was again greeted by an empty bed. The sight almost made him smile. “Two peas in a pod, aren’t you?” He knelt down to peer under the bed. “Come on out now, baby. Daddy needs to talk to you.” ***

Lucas ran down the hospital hallway toward Marlena, Carrie and Roman, Kate following close on his heels. He skidded to a halt in front of Carrie. “What’s wrong with Sami?” he demanded breathlessly. “Is she all right?”
Roman crossed his arms over his chest and glared down at him. “I wasn’t under the impression that you *cared* what happened to Sami, Lucas.”
Lucas scowled at him. “She’s Will’s *mother*, Roman – no matter what she’s done.” He turned back to Carrie. “So how is she?”
Carrie shrugged. “We don’t know very much yet. Mike thinks it might be a bad case of pneumonia.”
Kate rolled her eyes. “Pneumonia? Then why all the fuss? That’s *nothing*.”
Roman’s transferred his glare to Kate. “No one *asked* for you to come here, Kate. Feel free to leave.”
Kate opened her mouth to deliver an indignant retort, but Marlena beat her to it. “Just be quiet, both of you! This isn’t helping anyone!” She took a deep breath. “Lucas, Mike thinks Sami might have a very severe form of pneumonia called anaerobic pneumonia, or ‘aspiration’ pneumonia. It means her lungs are inflamed and filled with fluid, which makes it very hard for her to breath. Right now they’ve inserted a tube into her throat to keep her esophagus open, and they’re giving her antibiotics to combat the infection.”
Lucas blinked. “Well, that sounds…does that mean she’s going to be okay?”
“She will be,” Roman stated firmly, more to himself than anyone else. “She has to be.”
Carrie touched her father’s arm tentatively, affected more than she wanted to admit by his clear desperation. “She’s a fighter.”
Suddenly Roman turned and pulled Carrie into his arms. “Why didn’t I see this?” he muttered miserably. “Why didn’t I know something was

wrong?”

After a moment Carrie gently disengaged from his embrace. “We couldn’t see what she wouldn’t let us see, Dad. We just have to pray that she’s going to be all right, that’s all.” She glanced over at Lucas and Kate. “We *all* need to pray for that, and not just for Will’s sake.” Lucas nodded obediently. Kate merely looked pained.
Mike emerged from behind the curtain and started toward them, only to pull up short as a loud beeping began to wail from an unseen machine behind him. He immediately turned back, and Marlena took an involuntary step forward.
“Marlena,” Carrie said, pulling on her arm. “Wait. You don’t want to get in the way, do you? Let the doctors do their jobs.”
“Shhh!” Marlena hissed fiercely, holding up a hand to cut her off. “Everybody, be *quiet*!” In their sudden silence, the voices of the doctors could be heard over the collective murmur of routine ER business.
Carrie could hear the words, but understood nothing of their meaning. “Marlena, what are they saying?” Marlena staggered under Carrie’s fingers and turned to brace her hands against the nurses’ counter, squeezing her eyes shut. “Marlena!” Carrie repeated urgently. “What *is* it?”
“Pneumothorax,” Marlena whispered through bloodless lips, her face ghostly pale with shock. “Her lungs have collapsed.” ***

Abe glanced down at his watch and frowned. “Here,” he murmured to the sleeping boy in his arms, “let’s put you down on the couch, all right? I’m going to go up and see what’s keeping your father.” Brady muttered something under his breath and curled up against the cushion. A muffled thump sounded from one of the above bedrooms as Abe mounted the stairs. “John? You need some help picking out stuffed animals, buddy?” There was no response as Abe proceeded down the hallway toward Belle’s bedroom. “John?”
The door squeaked open under his fingertips and he poked his head inside. “John?”
John emerged from the large closet across the room and met his friend’s worried gaze. “She’s not here, Abe,” he whispered, wide-eyed, swallowing thickly. “She’s not anywhere upstairs.” He gestured weakly

toward the closet. “I was hoping…I was hoping she was hiding, but…” “Well, she has to be here *somewhere*, John. She couldn’t have just-” Abe’s voice caught as he realized the reason for John’s sudden pallor “-disappeared…Could she?”

A muscle in John’s cheek twitched. “You heard what Sami said on the phone, didn’t you? She said, ‘The baby’s crying?’ And she used the code words we made up when she was a child – code words devised to prevent a kidnapping.”
“Sami is *sick*,” Abe protested. “She was delirious with fever – she probably had no idea *what* she was saying!”
“Or maybe she was telling us what happened in the only way she could,” John whispered. “Maybe she saw something, or someONE – maybe she even tried to stop it but was too ill to do anything.” “What are you saying, John?”
John swallowed again and licked his suddenly dry lips, regarding his
friend with wide, haunted eyes. “I’m saying…I’m saying that I think that
Belle has been kidnapped.”
Chapter 91
The waiting room tableau was a portrait in barely restrained emotion. Caroline Anna Brady sat tensely on the edge of her chair, her hands gripped with white-knuckled tension in her lap. She stared sightlessly down at the scuffed linoleum floor as images of her life with her sister ran endlessly through her mind.
Little sister Sami, a baby so highly anticipated that Carrie had barely managed to contain herself…holding on to her, and to Eric, the day she and John had broken the news to them that Marlena was gone…tag-team wrestling on the living room floor…bonding sessions over popcorn and makeover magazines…and the painful accretion of bitterness that had driven them apart after Sami’s rape…the faint at Carrie and Austin’s wedding…the revelation of all Sami’s hurtful schemes…
But somehow the angry betrayals of the past few years paled next to the remembrances of childhood. And so Carrie rocked back in forth in her seat, and prayed with a ferocity she could never remember feeling before.
Oh, God, please let her be okay…
Dr. Marlena Evans stood over by the window, staring out into the

darkness of the evening with blank intensity – as if sheer force of will could remove her – and her ailing daughter – from the antiseptic confines of the hospital. The sharp stones of her engagement ring bit deeply into her skin, a consequence of the clenched fists she’d been making for the last half hour. Sami was barely hanging onto life behind the teal curtain of the emergency unit, and there was nothing she could do to help her.

Nothing…
Captain Roman Brady slouched against the wall next to the open doorway, his brow furrowed in a scowl that alternated between worried and angry – worried when he glanced over at Carrie and Marlena, and angry when his gaze slid to Lucas and Kate Roberts, seated together on the sofa across the room. Kate’s palpable lack of concern for Sami’s well-being was almost – but not *quite* – as annoying as the dark-eyed fear that Lucas was exhibiting. As if he cares what happens to her… Roman was finding Lucas nearly as unpalatable a presence in his daughters’ lives as Austin. But even the intensity of his abiding animosity toward the father of his grandchild paled in comparison to the depth of his terror at the thought of losing his youngest daughter. She’s not going to die… ran his constant mental refrain. She can’t! She’s not going to die…
Lucas was the first one to break the tense silence. He shot up from the couch and stalked toward the window, his glare zeroing in on Marlena as the most convenient – and marginally better informed – target. “I can’t stand this! What the hell is *taking* so long?!?”
Even Marlena’s infinite patience was wearing thin. “I *don’t* know, Lucas,” she bit out. “If I knew what was going on, I would tell you. We just have to wait for Mike.” She turned back toward the window, dismissing him with one tense shoulder.
“She’ll be fine, Lucas,” Kate offered in a half-hearted attempt to be comforting. “You know Sami – ballistic missiles wouldn’t keep her down. The pneumonia doesn’t have a chance.”
Carrie, ordinarily more sympathetic to Kate’s attitude toward Sami than she would have cared to admit, leapt instinctively to her sister’s defense. “Please, just shut *up*, Kate. This isn’t the time – and if you can’t see that, then I think you had better leave.”
Kate regarded her incredulously, her expression affronted. “Carrie!

How can you-”

“She’s my *sister*!” Carrie burst out. “And she may be *dying*! And the last thing that *I* or her *parents* need to hear right now are your insulting remarks. Just be QUIET!”
Kate, shocked by the vehemence in Carrie’s normally gentle tones, subsided back down on the couch just as Shawn, Caroline and Austin burst into the waiting room.
“How is she?” Austin demanded before anyone could speak. He pulled an unresisting Carrie into a hug. “What’s wrong with her?” “Mike thinks it’s pneumonia,” Carrie told them, her voice muffled by Austin’s shirt as she squeezed him tightly, taking comfort in his embrace. “The really bad kind. She had some sort of crisis a few minutes ago, and they’re working on her now. Marlena thinks her lungs may have collapsed.”
“Pneumothorax,” Kate offered helpfully. Roman glared at her. Caroline crossed over to Marlena and laid a comforting hand on her arm. “How are you, dear?”
“Hanging in there,” Marlena told her, managing a wan smile. “Thank you for coming.”
“We wouldn’t be anywhere else, you know that. The Brady family
sticks together in times of crisis – so before we came, Shawn left a
message for Bo and Billie and one for Hope.” She glanced around the
waiting room. “But where’s John?”
***
Abe regarded his friend with an expression of deep concern as John paced back and forth across the living room of the Brady house. After an initial burst of frenzied activity – including a search of the entire house and surrounding area and a call to the security company to direct guards to the hospital and the Pub – John had fallen into an ominous silence. He seemed to be operating almost on automatic pilot
– pacing five steps toward the fireplace, spinning on his heel, and taking five steps back toward the french doors. He cradled a sleeping Brady in his arms, his hand patting his son’s back with metronomic regularity. The expression on his face was frighteningly blank.
“John?”
His friend did not react. Abe was about to try again, but he was interrupted by one of his officers coming down the staircase. “We’ve

just about finished dusting for prints upstairs, sir,” Officer Pennebaker informed him, her face grimly pale. “We can start down here-” her gaze slid to John “-um, as soon as you’d like.”

“Thank you, Pennebaker,” Abe told her. “I’ve notified the FBI, and their agents will be along directly. Mr. Black and I are going to go on down to the station.” His gaze sharpened on her face, imbuing his next words with special import. Of all the officers summoned to the scene, Pennebaker had reacted the most excessively to Belle Black’s disappearance – which was sort of odd, when he thought about it, as several of the others on call were old work chums of John’s. Abe knew himself to be not the slightest bit misogynistic, but he did wonder a little if her being a woman was a factor in the extreme degree of her reaction. “I want you to be sure that everything is done *by the book*. I don’t want any mistakes in this investigation.”
She nodded. “Yes, sir, Commander. If the kidnapper left any evidence, we’ll find it.”
Abe darted another worried glance toward John. “We’re counting on that. *She’s* counting on that…” His voice trailed off and he sighed. “Are you all right, sir?” Pennebaker asked hesitantly.
He rubbed his forehead tiredly. “She’s my goddaughter, Pennebaker. Did you know that? I made a vow before God to protect her, to guide her…” He closed his eyes. “And this is the second time in her short life that she’s been kidnapped. Not doing such a bang-up job, am I?”
Pennebaker swallowed and touched his arm tentatively. “We’ll find her, sir.”
He nodded shortly and turned away to meet John mid-circuit in front of the couch. She watched as her commander put an arm around his friend’s shoulders and steered John and his sleeping son toward the front door. As they left the house, a picture of dejection, Pennebaker could only wonder at her role in the evening’s devastating turn of events. The phone call she had made during the engagement party had informed Stefano DiMera of Belle Black’s whereabouts that evening…and a few hours later, the little girl had disappeared.
Did I do this?
***
It was purely by chance that Carrie was the first person in the milling crowd that filled the waiting room to catch sight of Mike and Lexie as

they made their way toward the gathering of family. Both doctors looked neither wildly happy nor particularly sad, but so deeply had her hopes sunk that Carrie found this sight encouraging. “Mike!” she exclaimed, rushing toward the door. “How’s Sami?” Marlena stepped up next to her, and grasped her step-daughter’s hand in an iron grip. They regarded the doctors expectantly.

“She’s alive,” he told the assemblage, then waited out the brief storm of emotion his pronouncement occasioned. “Both of her lungs collapsed almost simultaneously – which is actually quite rare – and we had to insert a chest tube to reinflate them. It was rough going there for a bit, but we managed to get it done. Right now she’s on a respirator, and as soon as her condition stabilizes a little bit, we’re going to try to suction the fluid from her lungs.” Marlena frowned. “Isn’t that a bit drastic?”
Lexie nodded grimly. “It is a bit drastic, but, to be honest with you, drastic measures are what are needed. We came very close to losing her, and there’s always the risk of recurring pneumothorax episodes, especially if the antibiotics don’t begin to take effect very soon.” “But the respirator-”
“The respirator will *help*-” Mike returned “-but it’s not a guarantee.
We’re worried about the possibility of acute respiratory failure. The
bottom line is, we *need* to control the infection, and that depends on
the effectiveness of the antibiotic therapy. Right now we have her
listed as critical. If her condition remains stable for the next few hours,
then we’ll upgrade her to serious.”
“Can we see her?” Roman asked.
Mike grimaced and glanced at Lexie. “We’ll allow you and Marlena to go in, for a *few* minutes, but then we’re going to restrict her visitors to hospital personnel. Right now she needs time, rest, and *quiet* to aid the medicine.”
Marlena reached for his hand and gave it a grateful squeeze. “Thank you. Thank you both so very much. I can’t tell you how much what you’ve done means to us.”
“I’ll second that,” Roman offered.
“We’re glad to do it,” Lexie replied with a smile. “If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to her.”
Marlena turned to Carrie and hugged her, both of them almost giddy

with relief. “Tell her I love her,” Carrie murmured, swallowing thickly. “Tell her I’ll be in to see her as soon as they’ll allow it.”

“I will,” Marlena promised. “When John gets here, tell him…oh, just tell him I love him, all right? I’ll see you in a few minutes.”
Carrie watched them go, then turned to Mike, frowning slightly.
“Where in the world *is* John?”
***
Abe led an unprotesting John into his office at Police Headquarters and shoved him gently toward the chair in front of the paper-laden desk. John sat down without comment, his hand still mechanically patting his sleeping son’s back.
“John? Do you, um, want some coffee or something?” He kept his voice low in deference to the boy.
John blinked up at him. “What? Oh, no. I don’t think I could keep anything down.”
Abe placed a hand on his shoulder and gave it a comforting squeeze. “We’re going to find her, buddy. We’re going to find her and bring her home, I promise you that.”
John squeezed his eyes shut, pained. “I can’t believe I let this happen,” he muttered. “I *promised* her that I’d protect her, and I let her down. How could I be so incredibly careless? I called off the guards, Abe. What was I thinking?”
“Marlena would never blame you for this,” Abe protested.
“I’m not talking about Doc,” John replied. “I promised *Belle* that I’d protect her – just today, in fact. I was getting her dressed for the party…” he paused and swallowed with difficulty, “…and she said she was scared that something would happen to keep us from moving into the new house. She was worried that we weren’t going to be a family. And I promised her that we would always be together, and that she would be safe, protected and happy.” He shook his head. “A promise I didn’t manage to keep for even seven hours, Abe – that’s got to be some kind of record, even for me…”
“Stop it, John. Just stop it. This isn’t doing anyone – least of all Belle – any good at all. *Now*…don’t you think you ought to call Marlena and tell her what happened?”
John paled, his arms tightening around Brady. The boy squirmed a bit in protest, but didn’t awaken. “Oh, *God*, Abe…” John moaned. “How

am I going to tell her this? How am I going to tell her that I let that *bastard* take our daughter?

“We don’t know for sure that it was Stefano,” Abe protested weakly, more for the sake of form than anything else.
“Well, who the hell *else* would it be?” John hissed, covering Brady’s ears with his hand. “Think about it, Abe! He *lost* Marlena, and the child he tried to force upon her – and she and I were happy, engaged, and the parents of a *beautiful* little girl. Can you imagine how furious that must have made him?”
“But we don’t have any evidence that Stefano is even *alive*, John!”
John blinked, then considered. “Actually, maybe we do.”
“What do you mean?”
“The headstone, Abe. Aaron’s headstone – it was taken, remember? We thought it was just vandals, or kids with a really sick sense of humor – but what if it was Stefano? What if he went to visit his baby’s grave, and found the name Black on the monument instead of DiMera? What do you think he would have done?”
Abe nodded grimly. “Okay, okay, point taken. Stefano is definitely the most likely suspect – but *remember*, John, that’s what we thought the last time Belle was taken, and Stefano had nothing to do with it at all!” John glared at him. “You can’t possibly think *Sami* did this!”
“No, of course not. I was just pointing out that making assumptions is dangerous. We can’t afford to overlook anything.”
“Fine,” John agreed. “We won’t. But that doesn’t mean that I’m going to let that sick old man get away with this. You and the department and the FBI can chase down all the leads you want – but Stefano is *mine*!” The last sentence emerged as a muted shout, and Brady muttered something in protest. John calmed immediately and pressed a kiss to his son’s forehead. “It’s okay, slugger. Go back to sleep.” “He shouldn’t be here, John.”
John sighed. “I know. I just can’t even think of letting him go right now. I don’t want him out of my sight.” He was silent for a moment, then snapped his fingers as a thought struck him. “Damn. *Sami*! God, Abe, what if Stefano did something to her to keep her from telling us what she saw. He could have drugged her, poisoned her… I have to call and check on her condition.”
“And you have to tell Marlena about Belle,” Abe reminded him.

John ran a hand through his hair. “God, Abe, I can’t even stand the

thought of it. I can just picture the look on her face…” He reluctantly
accepted the phone receiver from Abe. “Dial 555-4324, please.” At
Abe’s questioning look, he added, “That’s Carrie’s cel number. I just
want to talk to her first, all right? If Sami’s…if her condition…” his voice
trailed off, and he shook his head. After a moment, Abe nodded and
dialed the phone.
“Hello?”
“Carrie, honey, it’s John.”
“John!” Her voice exploded through the phone. “Where *are* you?”
“Not now, Carrie. Tell me how Sami is.”
On the other end of the line, Carrie frowned at the odd sound of John’s voice. “Mike says she’s critical. She has something called aspirant pneumonia, and her lungs collapsed. They actually had to insert a tube into her chest to reinflate them, and she’s on antibiotics and a respirator.”
John let out a small sigh of relief. She was alive…and Stefano apparently hadn’t caused her illness. “What’s the prognosis?”
“I don’t really know, John. Mike seems kind of worried that the antibiotics won’t work quickly enough.” A few moments of silence ticked by. “John? When are you going to get here?” She winced at the note of pleading in her tone.
Again he bypassed her question. “Is Marlena there?”
“She and Dad are with Sami. Mike and Lexie let them in to see her for a few minutes, but they’re restricting her visitors after that. Right now, there’s nothing any of us can do but wait.”
Another silence fell. Something in John’s voice was setting off warning bells in Carrie’s mind. “John? Is everything all right?” Oh, brilliant question, Carrie. Your sister is in critical condition, and you ask him if everything is all right. “I mean, are *you* okay?”
“No…no, I’m not. Listen, Carrie, I have to ask you for a big favor, okay? I hate to take you away from your sister at a time like this, but there’s something I need for you to do.” “What? John, I can’t leave Sami right now.”
“Carrie, I wouldn’t ask you if it weren’t important – and they’re not letting you see Sami, anyway. Please, I just need you to come and meet me, all right? I’ll explain everything when you get here. Oh, and

don’t come alone – bring Austin or Bo with you.”

“Bring them where?”
A brief pause. “To Abe’s office. I’m at Police Headquarters.”
“What? Why?”
“Just come… Please. As fast as you can. And please, *please*…be
careful.”
***
Roman and Marlena stood a few feet away from their daughter’s bed, eyeing the tubes and wires enveloping her body with considerable trepidation.
“She doesn’t look so good,” Roman finally murmured, lowering his voice in spite of Sami’s unconscious state. “All that equipment…”
“-is helping her,” Marlena finished firmly. “She’s getting everything she needs to make her better.” She approached the bed and unearthed Sami’s hand from under the covers, carefully avoiding the IV line. “Hey, sweetie girl. Momma’s here.”
“And Daddy, peanut,” Roman added, stepping around to the other side of the bed. “Daddy’s here.” He reached up to stroke his daughter’s hair, his touch tentative amid the nest of equipment. “She looks so young…and fragile.”
Marlena blinked back her tears. “When she’s asleep like this, I can see almost the little girl she used to be in the lines of her face,” she murmured, reaching up to trace Sami’s jawline. “See? Here, in her cheekbones, and in the way her eyelashes fan across her cheeks.” Marlena bit her lip, willing herself not to cry – the last thing she wanted to do was upset her daughter. “Do you remember how we used to sneak in their rooms at night to watch them sleep? Talking about all the things we dreamed for them…planning their futures…” “I never would have planned this.”
Marlena bit her lip as she gazed down at Sami. “Nobody plans the bad things. Nobody ever expects the worst to happen.” She choked back a sob and hugged one arm to her stomach, as if to hold the fear and pain inside.
Roman skirted the bed to come up beside her. “She’s going to be fine, Doc. Our daughter is a fighter, and she’s going to be just fine.” He drew one arm up around Marlena’s shoulders.
She stiffened momentarily, then relaxed against his side. “I can’t

believe none of us saw this coming, Roman. Aspirant pneumonia doesn’t get this bad in a matter of hours. She *had* to have been exhibiting symptoms for the past couple of days, at *least*. Why didn’t I see it?”

He nodded doubtfully. “But Carrie was right with what she said before, though,” he pointed out. “Sami has a will of iron when it comes to stuff like this, and you couldn’t have seen what she didn’t want you to see, Doc. Not until it got so bad that she couldn’t hide it anymore.” His expression dissolved into guilty misery. “*I’m* the one who should have seen it then.”
Marlena nodded her agreement absently, then frowned and glanced over at him. “What? What are you talking about Roman? Sami had already left the engagement party by the time you made *your* entrance.” At the memory of his awful drunken diatribe, she drew away from his embrace.
He frowned. “No, I wasn’t talking about seeing her at the party,” he murmured absently, “I-” He was interrupted by a choking sound from the bed, and they turned in unison to stare at their daughter. “Sami! Sami, can you hear me?”
The machine above the bed began to beep. Marlena’s gaze flew toward it, and she inhaled sharply. “Get Mike!” she commanded, shoving Roman toward the curtain. Even as he swept it aside, medical personnel raced toward them.
“Acute respiratory failure!” Lexie snapped to the nurse behind her. He pulled out the crash cart. “Marlena, you and Roman need to leave. NOW!” They stumbled away from the bed, horror-filled gazes riveted on their daughter, their grip on each other the only thing holding them upright. Marlena squeezed her eyes shut and turned to bury her face in Roman’s shoulder. Silently, they both began to pray. ***

Austin frowned down at Carrie as they made their way through the bullpen toward Abe’s office near the back of the police station. “I still can’t believe you were willing to leave Sami at a time like this,” he muttered, for what to Carrie seemed like the fiftieth time. Her own guilt didn’t make holding her temper any easier.
“Look, John said it was important, and he wouldn’t say that if it weren’t true. If you didn’t want to come with me, you should have just said no,

all right? Can’t you just leave it alone now?” She knocked loudly on the door to Abe’s office. After a moment, the door swung open, revealing an obviously worried Abe. Her heartbeat began to hammer triple-time. Oh, this is *really* bad. “Abe? John called me and asked me to…” Her sentence trailed off as Abe stepped aside to reveal John and Brady. “John?” Worry made her voice crack on the name.

His blue eyes were dark and haunted. “Thank you for coming, Carrie. Is there any more news about your sis-…about Sami?”
Carrie shook her head. “No. Everything is still the same, as far as I know.” She paused, and swallowed. “Um, John? What are you doing here? Why didn’t you come to the hospital?”
John and Abe exchanged glances, and John rose from the chair. “Austin, would you take Brady, please? Just go out into the bullpen and sit down. *Don’t* leave the bullpen, no matter what, all right? Just stay right outside. I need to talk to Carrie for a minute.”
Austin appeared as though he wanted to question John for a moment, but then instead simply accepted the sleeping boy and cradled him against his chest. “I’ll be…right outside, I guess.” Aiming one last confused glance at Carrie, he shut the door behind him.
Carrie bit her lip to keep it from trembling. She could never remember seeing John appear quite so disturbed before…except upon those occasions when Marlena had been in danger. “John? What is it?” “I-” He closed his eyes and turned away. “Oh, Carrie…”
Nearly frantic by that point, Carrie turned to Abe. “Abe, what is it?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, we-…um, we stayed behind at the house while your dad and Marlena took Sami to the hospital because we needed to get the kids squared away first. Did they tell you?” Carrie nodded impatiently.
“When…ah, when John went upstairs to get them-”
“She’s gone,” John interjected in a hushed voice, nearly choking on the words. He kept his back toward Carrie. “Belle. She’s gone.”
Carrie frowned. “Gone? Wha-” Her eyes widened. “Do you mean *kidnapped*?”
John bowed his head, nodding.
Carrie inhaled sharply. “Stefano?”
Abe grimaced. “Maybe. We don’t know yet. My guys are processing the scene, and we’ve called in the FBI to help with the search.

Kidnapping is a federal crime, you know.” He reached out to give her arm a gentle squeeze. “We’re going to get her back, honey.”

Carrie nodded distractedly at Abe, her gaze locked worriedly upon the tense figure of her one-time father. She approached John from behind. “John? Oh, John, I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face in his back. “I’m so sorry.”
He turned in her embrace to envelop her in a bonecrushing hug.
“Thanks, punkin. But Abe is right. We’ll get her back from that psycho
old man – if I have to break every single bone in his body to do it.” His
tone was grim, implacable, and final – and it sent a shiver of
foreboding down Carrie’s spine. “I’ll do whatever I have to do. Count
on it.”
Chapter 92
Carrie clung to John for an extra minute, drawing comfort from his strong, resilient frame in the face of dueling disasters. Abe had silently departed the office moments before, to both check on the investigation into Belle’s disappearance and give the two of them a bit of time alone. Finally, Carrie released John, and looked up to meet his anguished gaze. “What are you going to do?” she asked, her voice hoarse.
“I’m going to find her,” he stated simply, his dark expression a telling indication of just how far he was willing to go to accomplish that end. “I will.”
“I know,” she assured him. “I do…but I meant, what are you going to do right now? Do you want me to go with you to tell Marlena?”
He winced slightly. “Um, no, that’s not why I asked you to come here.” His gaze flicked over her shoulder to land on Austin and Brady in the bullpen, just visible through the blinds covering the office door’s window. Austin had seated himself behind one of the sergeants’ desks, and Brady was asleep against his chest. “I don’t want to…” he swallowed and shook his head, “…I can’t leave him.” His gaze returned to her, and she could see the fear of further depredations behind his eyes.
“Do you want me to take him?” she asked hesitantly.
His relief at her understanding was apparent. “I hated to pull you away from Sami, but I can’t keep him here at the station all night. And I can’t worry about him and do what I need to do for Belle. I know you want to

be with your sister-”

“It’s all right,” she told him, sending a brief mental apology toward Sami. “There’s nothing I can do for her, anyway. I’d be glad to take Brady. Do you want Austin and I to keep him at my apartment?”
He shook his head. “No. We can’t be sure that Stefano is finished with us. I want you to take him over to the new house. All of our stuff is there except for some clothes – and, more importantly, the new alarm system is up and running.” He pulled a ring of keys from his front pocket and winched one off. “I was actually going to give you your key at the party,” he continued, handing it to her, “because we just changed the locks, and Doc and I are the only other ones who can get in right now. I called our rep from the alarm company to meet us here – he’ll show you how to input a new code when you get there, but don’t let him see you do it.” His eyes narrowed on her face. “Don’t tell *anyone* what it is – not even Austin. Don’t open the door to anyone but me, Doc, Abe or Bo. If someone comes in an official capacity, call me and ask me before letting them in, no matter who they say they are. The guards should be outside the house by now. You can trust them to keep the area clear, but don’t let *anyone* inside the house.”
Each new order served to impress upon Carrie both the seriousness of the situation and the depth of trust he placed in her. “I promise,” she vowed. “But what code should I put in?”
“I want you to pick,” he said, grimacing. “Stefano got into the house *somehow* tonight, and I was the one who picked the code for the system there. He has an alarming capacity for getting inside my head, but I don’t think he could anticipate your choice.”
She nodded and swallowed somewhat nervously. “Um, okay. How about…?” she glanced from side to side before standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear.
Despite himself, he smiled. “Okay, that’s good. Listen, your room is all put together, just the way you wanted it, and you can borrow some of Marlena’s clothes – she wouldn’t mind.”
“But Austin could go back to our building and get stuff for both of us once we’re settled in,” she pointed out.
John had to stifle his automatic objection in the face of her reasonable assertion. He felt an almost irrational need to ensure his son’s complete safety under guarded lock and key, but he had no desire to

make things harder on Carrie. “All right, that’s fine. But, Carrie, I want you to understand how important this is. We can’t be sure that Stefano will be content to take just Belle, even if he did leave Brady and Sami behind tonight. I’m going to put guards on everyone in the family for the foreseeable future – and I hope you won’t argue with me about it.”

“Well, I won’t enjoy it,” she replied. “But I have no desire to ever be Stefano DiMera’s captive ever again. Just do whatever you feel you have to do, and *I’ll* do whatever I can to help.”
He pulled her into a hug. “Thank you, punkin. I knew I would be able to count on you – I always have been.”
She squeezed him tightly. “Are you going to go tell Marlena now?” she asked, her voice muffled by his shirt.
“I-” He let go of her and stepped back, avoiding her eyes. He swallowed. “There’s nothing to tell her yet – we don’t have any information.”
Carrie felt an immediate upsurge of frustrated anger on her stepmother’s behalf. Male overprotectiveness was such a pain in the ass. “You mean *besides* the fact that her child is missing? You *can’t* keep this from her, John! I know it’s your mission in life to protect her from the bad things of the world, but Belle is her *daughter*, for God’s sake!”
“But I just want to be able to tell her we’re doing *something*,” he replied a little desperately. “I can’t just- …I can’t just tell her that I let this happen!”
“It was *not* your *fault*!” she retorted forcefully. “She deserves to hear this from you, John. You think if you don’t tell her she’s not going to find out from someone else? The press will be on this any minute now, if they don’t know already, and it’s going to be the lead story on every newscast tomorrow -” she frowned and checked her watch, “-er, *today*, I mean – and not just here in Salem! For better or worse, what happens to you two is *news*, John. You can’t make her find out that way.”
He nodded, his expression resigned. “You’re right, I know you are. I don’t know what I was thinking, I just-” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t think she can handle it – I *know* she can handle it – she can handle more than I can, if it comes to that. I just really, really, *really* hate to see her hurting. But I shouldn’t have

snapped at you – I’m sorry, Carrie.”

“Don’t apologize. Just *go*. I’m sure Abe can handle things here for a little while. You do realize that Marlena is already wondering what’s keeping you, don’t you? She knows you would want to be there for Sami.”
“Sami…” He closed his eyes and sighed. “I can’t believe I forgot her condition, even for a minute. God, I hope she’s all right.” ***

The hospital waiting room was once again shrouded in silence, this time accompanied by a more palpable sense of incipient terror. Marlena had tersely explained the perilous nature of acute respiratory failure, and the prolonged amount of time between Sami’s arrest and the doctors’ not-yet-arrival had wound their collective horror to a fever pitch. Marlena once again stood in front of the window, her white-knuckled fingers gripping the sill as she gazed with unseeing eyes out into the night. Roman hovered anxiously behind her, wanting to give and perhaps receive a little comfort, but her stiff shoulders held him away. Lucas huddled in the corner of the couch, his accustomed antipathy toward Sami temporarily in abeyance as his son’s mother fought for her life. Kate sat next to him, silent, unwilling to add to the ordeal of the others, even if she herself felt little concern for the girl with whom she had battled for so long. Shawn and Caroline clung to each other at the other end of the sofa, consumed by worry for their granddaughter.

Kate, the only one not lost in her own miserable reverie, was the first one to see Mike approach. “Mike?” she asked, rising to her feet. “How is she?” At the utterance of her first syllable, the other occupants of the room came to attention, but it was Marlena’s face that Mike sought as he delivered his report.
“She’s alive,” the doctor assured Sami’s mother, who staggered a little bit under the weight of her relief. Roman steadied her with a hand on her elbow. “It was touch and go there for awhile, but Sami’s a fighter. Unfortunately, the life- saving measures we employed dislodged the chest tube – that’s why it took so long for me to get back to you. But Sami’s holding her own.”
Marlena closed her eyes and mouthed a quick prayer of thanks. “Thank you, Mike. What’s her condition?”

“We still have her listed as critical,” he admitted, which caused their newfound smiles to falter a bit. “I can’t honestly tell you that she’s out of the woods yet. But we’re monitoring her very closely, and we’re doing everything possible to avoid a repeat episode of the distress. It also looks as though the antibiotics are starting to take effect – it took a little longer than we had expected, which is why I was worried, but it looks as though they’re doing their job now.” “Is she conscious?” Roman asked.

“No,” Mike replied, “and I don’t expect her to be for at least a day, maybe longer. Her body has been through quite an ordeal, and, frankly, rest is a key component of her recovery. Right now I’m going to ask that you give her some time alone to get that rest…and now that I mention it, all of you look like you could use a little sleep, also.” He frowned, glancing about the room. “Um, where’s Carrie? I’m sure she’d like to know how her sister is doing.”
Kate frowned at him. “Carrie and *Austin*,” she said, emphasizing her son’s name, “had to leave for a bit. But don’t worry, I’m sure my son is taking *very* good care of her.”
Her snide tone wasn’t lost on Mike, but Kate’s opinions had never much mattered to him anyway. He merely shrugged, wondering what could be so important so as to tear Carrie away from Sami’s side at such a time. “Marlena? Will you be staying here tonight?”
Her smile was a bit grim. “You know me too well, Mike. Yes, I’ll be staying on the couch in my office. If there is *any* change in Sami’s condition-”
“You’ll be the first to know,” he assured her. “And now, I’m going to get back to my patient.”
“Thanks again, Mike,” Marlena called as he left. She turned to find Roman regarding her worriedly. “What?”
“You shouldn’t spend the night on a couch, Doc. Why don’t you go on home, and I’ll bunk out in your office? If anything happens, I’ll give you a call.”
Marlena barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. “I’m perfectly
capable of taking care of myself, Roman, as you of all people should
know. Besides, it’s *my* couch.”
“But-”
She held up a hand. “Look, case closed, all right? I’m a little more

worried about Carrie’s whereabouts right now…not to mention John’s…” She glanced around the room again, her gaze zeroing in on Kate. “Kate, are you sure Carrie didn’t tell you where she was going?” It was the fifth time someone had asked her that question, and Kate was getting a bit tired of repeating herself. “I *said* she didn’t. She just got a phone call, grabbed Austin, and left.” Her sharp tone softened as she remembered the ordeal they’d all just endured. “I’m sure everything is fine, though.”

“If everything was fine, Carrie wouldn’t have left,” Roman returned
angrily. “She knows how sick her sister is. You really have no idea
who called her?”
“I really don’t.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere,” Marlena interjected when it began to look as though the two of them would be falling into another tiresome sniping match. “I’ll try to get hold of Carrie from my office. In the meantime,” she added, turning to Shawn and Caroline, “it’s been a very long night, and I want you to go home and get some rest. Sami’s going to need all of us in fighting form when she wakes up.”
Shawn and Caroline nodded, both grey and drawn. Caroline hugged Roman and then Marlena before they departed, hand in hand, heads bowed in mutual exhaustion.
Marlena turned back to Kate. “Thank you for coming,” she told the other woman, her words flatly pro forma. She clearly had no illusions about Kate’s feelings toward her daughter. “Why don’t you take Lucas home now? I’m sure Sami would prefer that someone be with Will right now.” Even if that someone is you or your son… her expression added.
Kate blinked, a bit taken aback. The evening’s events had impressed upon her, more than ever before, just how much Marlena’s behavior had changed as a result of her amnesia. Before she’d been shot, Marlena had been quite willing to walk an uneasy middle path between Sami and Kate’s mutually antagonistic relationship. Kate had ascribed that willingness to Marlena’s awareness of her daughter’s bitchy nature – though she did, unfortunately, love Sami despite her unworthiness. But ever since Marlena had awakened from unconsciousness with no memory of life after 1986, she’d been clearly biased in Sami’s favor. Kate found it disconcerting to look into the

hazel eyes of her long- time friend and see only impatience and muted

dislike.
“Marlena, I-”
Marlena shook her head tiredly and rubbed her forehead. “Now isn’t the time, Kate. Just take Lucas home.”
Kate’s gaze flicked to Roman, who scowled at her. “All right, fine,” she sighed. “Come on, Lucas.”
For a moment, Lucas looked as though he might protest, but in the end he followed his mother out of the room without a word.
Roman spared a glare for their retreating backs. “Listen, Doc, I really think you ought to go on home. I can handle things here, I promise.”
“I didn’t tell you not to stay,” she told him as they exited the waiting room. “You can do whatever you want – just as *I* will. I-” she caught sight of someone and frowned. “Frank?” she asked, confused as to why her former bodyguard was lurking outside the hospital waiting room. “What in the world are you doing here?”
Frank swallowed nervously, wondering what in the world he could
possibly say.
***
Abe Carver sat slumped in his office chair, staring morosely at the framed picture he’d unearthed from his bottom desk drawer. It had been a gift to he and Lexie from Marlena a few weeks after Belle’s second, *completed* Christening, a lovely shot of the baby with her parents, godfather and godmother. Abe thought he himself looked rather goofy in the photo, but Lexie looked charming and maternal as she cradled the sleeping child. He had displayed the picture on his desk for several years, but when Roman had come back to work at the police station he had decided that discretion was the better part of friendship, and relegated it to his drawer. He now found himself feeling unaccountably guilty about that.
I will find you, Abe told his goddaughter as he returned the photo to its rightful place. No matter what it takes, I will find you and bring you back to your mom and dad and all the people who love you. The thought of John engendered an entirely different kind of worry – a cold chill ran down Abe’s back as he remembered the look on John’s face when he’d discovered his daughter was gone. If he finds Stefano, he’ll kill him, Abe thought, and I can’t let that happen. Not that Abe would

mind particularly if Stefano were dead, even though it would probably upset Lexie, but he was concerned about what effect killing the man would have on John. Despite John’s years on the force, Abe knew his friend to possess a gentleness and conscience that didn’t bode well for his future peace of mind in the event of committing cold-blooded murder. I’ll do it for you if I have to, buddy, Abe vowed, even if it will hurt my wife.

“Commander!” his sergeant called, knocking on his outer door. “The Feds are here!”
Abe sighed and rubbed his forehead. He’d notified the FBI immediately from the scene as was required in kidnapping cases – the federal authorities always having jurisdiction – but he didn’t really have a good feeling about the coming investigation. It had been his experience that outside authorities tended to underestimate the full extent of DiMera’s evil machinations, and the resulting problems were always compounded by the presence of one or more DiMera spies. Abe wasn’t naive – he knew that he probably had one or two of them on his own payroll, but he also had a core group of officers whom he knew he could trust. He wouldn’t know the incoming ones at all, and trusting the wrong person could possibly be fatal for Belle.
As he rose from his chair he vowed to himself that he would do anything to keep that from happening. “Send them in, Peters,” he called.
The door opened, and two federal agents entered. The taller male had short blond hair and carried a briefcase. His suit was creased from hours of wear and his tie hung crookedly around his neck. The shorter female’s dark brown hair was clipped back by a barrette, a few stray tendrils escaping to bear testimony to an already long day. They both looked exhausted, which reminded Abe that he’d been informed they were coming directly from another case. Great, he thought grimly. I’m sure they’re just thrilled to be called here in the wee hours of the morning, on top of everything else.
“Special Agent Carter Blakeley,” the female said, holding out her ID for his inspection. “And this is Special Agent Robert Foster. We were sent here from the regional office in response to a reported kidnapping.” Her tone was briskly professional, but not unfriendly.
“Right,” Abe said, waving him toward the chairs in front of his desk. “I

called it in. I’m Commander Abraham Carver of the Salem P.D. Have a seat.”

“Thanks,” Blakeley said as Foster slumped into the chair to her right, stifling a sigh of relief as he rested his aching feet.
“You look a little tired,” Abe commented as he returned to his chair. “Rough case?”
The two agents traded glances. “Long,” Foster said after a moment, his tone noncommittal. Clearly they were not interested in discussing it, and Abe gave up on his attempt to take their measure that way. “Our ASAC said this case could be really tricky,” Foster continued, “but we didn’t get much in the way of details, so if you could fill us in…” Abe handed them a few photocopied sheets, which were covered with notes in his own barely legible handwriting. “The victim-” he paused and swallowed with difficulty, “-is Isabella Black, age five. She was taken from her home sometime earlier this evening.”
Blakeley flipped through the pages, scanning rapidly. “Witnesses?” “One,” Abe said. “Maybe. Belle’s older sister was home babysitting at the time, but we don’t know what – if anything – she saw.” Foster frowned. “Why not?”
“When we reached the house we found her lying on the living room floor, unconscious, apparently suffering from a very severe case of anaerobic pneumonia. Right now she’s at Salem University Hospital on a respirator. I spoke to one of her doctors a few minutes ago – they don’t expect her to regain consciousness for at least a day.” “We?” Blakeley interjected raising an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Abe confirmed. “My wife and I are friends of Belle’s parents. We were all attending a party in honor of their engagement when her father received an incoherent phone call from Sami – um, the sister – and it was apparent that something was wrong. When we got to the house, we found Sami on the floor and Belle missing from her room. A search of the house and the surrounding area didn’t turn up anything.” Foster picked up the final sheet. “And the parents are Dr. Marlena Evans and Mr. John Black…” He frowned. “Why are those names familiar?”
“If Black is who I think he is, then it’s because the man’s a billionaire,” Blakeley offered, glancing at Abe for confirmation. Abe merely nodded, not wanting to speculate on where they might have heard

Marlena’s name before – the last thing they needed was to get into details about the exorcism.

“Kidnap for ransom, then?” Foster murmured.
“Maybe,” Abe said. It was certainly the most obvious conclusion. “Her father believes that the kidnapping was an act of revenge by one of his enemies, however, and I’m inclined to go along with that, at least until we get some kind of ransom demand that indicates otherwise.”
Foster and Blakeley exchanged another glance. “Enemy?” ***
Carrie shifted uneasily on the couch, trying to find a comfortable position in which to hold the increasingly heavy small boy in her arms. Brady had flatly refused to go to sleep in his new bed, but had clung to her with a ferociously strong grip. His wide-eyed terror had touched her the way a foot- stomping tantrum would not have, and, truthfully, she felt better holding him in her arms, anyway. The new house, for all its warm, cheerful decor, felt dauntingly empty. She’d been unaccountably relieved to see Austin when he’d returned from his errand to their building a few minutes ago. The solitude was beginning to drive her crazy.
She looked up as Austin reentered the living room, cold drinks in hand. “Is he asleep?” he whispered as he set them on the coffee table.
“Intermittently,” she whispered back. “But he’s got a hell of a grip on me, even in his sleep. I think he must have sensed what’s going on or something. Why else would he be so scared?”
Austin nodded as he sat down in the chair adjacent to the couch. “Do you really think Stefano was the one that took Belle?” Carrie raised an eyebrow. “Well, who else could it be?”
“I don’t know,” Austin replied, shrugging, “I was just remember the *last* time she was taken – your family thought it was Stefano then, too, didn’t you? And it wasn’t.”
“You can’t possible believe that *Sami* did this!” she retorted, barely remembering to lower her voice. “Austin-”
“I didn’t say that,” he responded reasonably. “But it is a pretty big coincidence, don’t you think?”
“Look, I’m the first person in the world to admit that Sami is a world-class liar, but even *I* don’t think she could fake acute respiratory

failure just to throw everyone off track. Besides, she’s got no *reason* to kidnap Belle again – she *wants* John and Marlena to get married and make a family with the kids.”

“So she says,” Austin pointed out. “But you just said she was a good liar, didn’t you?”
She gaped at him. “I cannot *believe* you think that, Austin!”
“Fine,” he said, shrugging again, “if you believe she didn’t have anything to do with it, then I’ll trust your judgment. But I can tell you something right now – I’ll bet the FBI’s not going to see it that way.” Carrie blinked.
***
“Frank? What are you doing here? Are you sick?”
The bodyguard shrugged and glanced uneasily at Roman. “I, uh-”
“Dr. Evans!” Nurse Paulette Sandene called from over by the nurses desk. “I have some forms you need to sign for Sami’s admittance.” “Sure,” Marlena replied distractedly. “Frank-”
“Go ahead, Dr. Evans,” he told her, grateful for the timely distraction. “I’ll be here when you get done.”
“Oh, okay,” she replied, puzzled, but moved to the desk in response to Roman’s prompting. “Thank you for getting all this together, Paulette. I absolutely abhor paperwork.”
“Who doesn’t?” Paulette replied. “I’m glad Sami’s crisis is over. I very much hope she’s going to be okay.”
“So do we,” Marlena and Roman replied in unison as Marlena’s pen flew over the forms. She sighed as she laid down the pen and handed Paulette the last signed page. “Here you go. Thanks again.”
Paulette nodded, grimacing. “It’s no problem, Dr. Evans. I’m just sorry your evening ended this way. It was a really wonderful party.” Her gaze flicked to Roman. “Generally.”
Roman eyed her sourly, but Marlena offered her a wan smile. “It *was*
a nice party, Paulette,” she agreed, “and I’m really glad you came. I’m
just sorry you had to come back to work afterward. You must be
exhausted.”
“You, too.”
Marlena nodded wearily. “Yes. I’ll be staying in my office tonight, in order to be close to Sami. The doctors know that, but if anyone comes looking for me…”

“I’ll tell them where you are,” Paulette assured her. “You just get some rest. I’m sure Sami is going to be just fine.” With one last reassuring smile, the nurse turned away to enter the data into the computer system.

Marlena rested her elbows on the counter and buried her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this is happening,” she whispered
Roman laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. “I really do believe Sami’s going to be all right, Doc. I think the crisis is really over.”
“Oh, I hope so.” Her gaze caught on her watch. “My goodness, is that really the time?”
Roman compared his watch to hers. “Yes. My God, we’ve been here for hours!”
“Mmm,” she murmured, biting her lip. “I wonder what happened to Carrie? We should have heard from her by now.”
“And John,” Roman put in maliciously. “I can’t *believe* he didn’t even bother to call and check on Sami.”
Marlena rolled her eyes and shrugged away from Roman’s hand.

“Look, Roman, I’m tired, worried, and not in the mood, okay? I have no

desire to stand here and listen to you insult my fiance. In fact, I have
no desire to stand here at all. I’m going to go lie down. I’ll see you
tom-…um, later today.”
“Doc-”
“Good*night*, Roman.” She turned away from him in the direction of her office, only to find her path blocked by a familiar-looking woman with a very determined expression on her face. A man with a Betacam on his shoulder stood next to her, and Marlena identified the woman as a local television news reporter just as a microphone was thrust in her face. She barely registered Frank’s appearance at her side as the woman began to speak in jackhammer tones.
“Dr. Evans! Do you have any reaction to what happened to your daughter?”
Marlena’s brow furrowed in confusion. Why in the world would the media care about Sami’s illness? “What?” Chapter 93

“*Another* box of files?” Agent Blakeley muttered incredulously as Agent Foster pushed his way through the door to their impromptu headquarters, cardboard box in hand. “Is there *anyone* involved in

this investigation that doesn’t have a police file two inches thick?” Foster dropped the box onto the table with a loud THUMP and glanced around the drab confines of the room, his gaze finally coming to rest on his partner. “Apparently not,” he replied, arching an eyebrow at her, “judging from the forest’s worth of paper we’ve got so far – which doesn’t explain why you’re reading a magazine…” a teasing note entered his voice, “…and a *girl* magazine at that.” A uniformed police officer on the far side of the room stifled a snicker and returned her attention to the chalkboard in front of her, where the vague outlines of an investigation were taking shape.

“Well, I left my copy of Guns and Ammo in the car,” Blakeley quipped, turning her issue of Bella so Foster could see the cover picture. “You’ll love this – the subject of our investigation was enshrined on the cover of Bella just two short months ago. I’ve been reading the article, and, while it doesn’t actually come out and say that John Black is a zillionaire who would do anything to safeguard his children…” Foster groaned as the implications became clear, and she nodded. “Exactly. And two months is just about enough time for your average loony to come up with a crazy, but not *too* crazy, plan to kidnap a child. I’ll lay odds that the ransom call will come in the next couple of hours. Are the phones tapped yet?”
Foster nodded as he began to remove files from the box. “Carver’s team took care of it – in record time, too. They really want to get this guy, or girl, or whomever. It seems almost personal with them.”
“It is,” she told him flatly. “According to Officer Hilton over there, Black used to be a cop here, and, frankly, the emotion that connection is generating worries me a great deal. And I get even more of the same vibes from Carver. He said he was good friends with the parents, remember?”
Foster grimaced his agreement. “I hope we haven’t found ourselves in the middle of a turf war. Do you think Carver will fight us for control of the investigation?”
She chewed on her lower lip. “I don’t know. I don’t have a really good read on the man yet – he *seems* reasonable, but I’m a bit concerned that he’s jumping the gun as far as suspects go.” “You mean his insistence that it’s DiMera?”
She nodded. “I’m not saying that the man isn’t a viable candidate,” she

admitted, jerking a thumb toward a particularly tall stack of files, “but I talked to some people at headquarters, and the best info we – or any other government agency – has on the subject is that DiMera died last year. I don’t have the details on that yet – but the guy I talked to says there hasn’t been a whisper of activity from his financial empire since the time of his reported death – absolutely nothing that would indicate that he’s still alive. So if it *isn’t* DiMera, the whole investigation will be starting out on the wrong foot right off the bat, costing all of us a lot of valuable time. And I don’t have to tell you what a disaster *that* could be.” Bitter past experience colored her tone.

He nodded as he gazed down at the picture of Stefano he had extracted from the files. “DiMera’s motive would be revenge, then, correct? So if a ransom demand doesn’t come in soon…”
“Yeah, his stock will go up, I agree. But greed and revenge aren’t the only possible motives here, Bob. Just take a look at her.” She held up the magazine again and pointed to Belle’s smiling face. “She’s like an advertisement for cute. Do you have any idea how many issues this magazine sells? Or how many people out there are desperate for children?”
He frowned. “She’s a little old for a typical perp with that motive, though, isn’t she?”
“On the high end of the profile,” Blakeley agreed after a moment of consideration. “But until we get some answers about opportunity, we’re shooting in the dark here. Commander Carver said he’d give us a rundown on last evening’s activities ASAP. I wonder what’s keeping him?”
As if answering on cue, the door opened and Abe entered the room. He was speaking into his celphone, scowling darkly. “Damn,” he muttered, before snapping it shut and glancing up to meet the FBI agents’ inquisitive gazes. “Nothing from our teams at the airport, bus, and train stations.”
Foster whistled under his breath. “That was fast work.”
The compliment didn’t seem to do much to improve Abe’s disposition. “Unfortunately, we have a great deal of experience putting out APBs on DiMera. We seem to enact this manhunt for the man annually, not that it ever works. It’s not like he needs to take public transportation to get out of town, after all. He probably had Belle over international

waters within two hours of the kidnapping, if it took even that long.” His fingers tightened spasmodically around the phone.

“Our sources haven’t had any indication that DiMera’s even alive,” Blakeley essayed cautiously, testing the waters.
“Well, they wouldn’t, would they?” came Abe’s sour reply. “Look, I appreciate the necessity of following procedure, and not eliminating viable lines of investigation, but you do not *know* this man. He’s pure *evil*, and this is his modus operandi down to the letter. He’s *got* her.”
Foster held up a hand to forestall Blakeley’s inevitable rebuttal. “Look, we can all agree he’s a suspect, right? But investigating him doesn’t mean ignoring other possibilities, does it?” He didn’t wait for their answers. “We need to establish an order of events, Commander Carver. You said there was some sort of party going on?”
Abe frowned at them for a moment, then sighed. “All right…yes, it was an engagement party, for Belle’s parents – Dr. Marlena Evans, a psychiatrist at University Hospital here in Salem, and John Black, international business mogul.” He nearly smiled at his own recitation of John’s mocking self-title, but the gravity of the situation erased the momentary urge.
Foster pointed at the magazine Blakeley still held. “But they have more than one child, do they not?”
“Belle’s older brother Brady isn’t Marlena’s biological son,” Abe informed them. “*They* don’t make that distinction, of course, but it would matter to a bastard like DiMera. It’s important to him to hurt *both* John and Marlena as deeply as possible, and he wouldn’t understand that Marlena loves Brady as much as she loves Belle, or that John loves Marlena’s other children as his own. DiMera would consider Belle the only viable candidate.”
Blakeley rolled her eyes at the commander’s insistence on fingering DiMera, but forbore further comment. Foster shot her a grateful look. “And this party was held where?”
“Brady’s Pub,” Abe said. “It’s a family restaurant – John built it for the Brady’s a few years back, since he considers them his family.”
“And who threw the party?” Foster prodded, pulling out a notebook and pen.
“Carrie and Samantha Brady,” Abe replied, “Marlena’s stepdaughter

and daughter, respectively. They planned it all on just a few days notice, but that didn’t seem to affect the turnout. Just about the whole town came. I could probably write out a nearly complete list of the people who attended, but you’d have to ask Carrie for the full list of those invited.”

Blakeley nodded. “That could be potentially very important. But I would have thought that the children would be *at* the party.”
“They were,” Abe responded grimly, “for the first few hours. When they got tired, Sami and their nanny took them home. Chelsea Naughton,” he added seeing the question in Agent Foster’s eyes, “I’ve already sent a man to get her. Anyway, there’s a time window of about three hours for the kidnapping to take place, but I think the most important thing to remember is, *no one* could have predicted that the children would be at home then. They *must* have been under some kind of surveillance.”
“Or they were just unlucky,” Blakeley offered.
“I think that’s a given,” Abe retorted impatiently. “But it was also pretty widely known that tonight-” he sighed and glanced at his watch, “-*last* night, I mean, was the family’s final night in that house before moving to their new one. And the new one is a virtual fortress – the security system is impregnable. DiMera would have known that this was his last, best chance to get at her.”
Foster’s grunt indicated what he thought of the probable truth of the claim of impregnability, but all he said was, “Did the old house have a security system?”
Abe nodded and rubbed his forehead tiredly. “Yes, it did. A damn good one, in fact. But it wasn’t on when we got there. However, there’s no way of knowing if it was on or off before the kidnappers got there, not until Sami wakes up and can tell us whether she set it. We also won’t know if the doors were locked, though they all were when we arrived. There was no sign of forced entry.” “How many people have keys?” Blakeley asked.
“Too many,” Abe replied glumly after giving it a moment’s thought. Blakeley rose from her chair. “We’ll need that information ASAP. We’ll also need the forensics from the house, interviews with the neighbors, phone records…the works.” She glanced down at the yellow notepad in front of her. “How do we want to play this, guys? Do we inform the

media?”

Abe closed his eyes, pained at the very thought. “I think that’s a horrible idea. You can’t even *imagine* what kind of media circus this would turn into – it would make the furor over the Lindbergh baby look like a cakewalk. Besides, there’s no *point*.” “Witnesses might come forward,” Foster pointed out.
“The most likely witnesses would be neighbors, right? We’re questioning them anyway. Look, John Black and Marlena Evans aren’t exactly unknown here, okay? Belle’s best chance comes from us keeping this quiet, and allowing things with Stefano to play out. It’s a *game* to him, he won’t be able to go two days without taunting Belle’s parents. John and Marlena will hear from him soon.”
“And if it’s not Stefano?” Blakeley put in, determined to keep driving that point home, no matter how futile the effort.
“If it’s not Stefano,” Abe replied, his tone indicating how likely he thought *that* was, “if it’s your everyday, run-of-the- mill kidnapping for ransom, then we’ll just give the kidnapper what he or she wants. John would pay anything to get his daughter back, and he wouldn’t give a damn about the money. When she’s safe, we can worry about catching the bad guys. But, my point is no matter *what* is really going on, putting a situation this volatile under a media spotlight will only further endanger Belle.”
Foster and Blakeley shared a dubious glance, but since neither of them had yet developed a strong opinion either way, they finally nodded their agreement. Then Blakeley’s brow furrowed as a sudden thought occurred. “You don’t think there’s any way they could have found out about it already, do you?”
Abe considered her question, before eventually shaking his head. “I really don’t see how they could have…” ***

Marlena darted a confused glance toward Roman, but he looked just as perplexed as she was over the media’s interest in Sami’s condition. The reporter – Sandy Crane of WLPO – was regarding them with an expression of almost offensive intensity, as though they were a banquet and she was a starving person. And Marlena couldn’t shake the feeling that the cameraman standing behind Ms. Crane had zeroed in on her for an extreme close-up. What was going on?

“I-” Marlena began, distracted by her former bodyguard’s alarmed expression, “Are you all right, Frank?”

“I’m fine, Dr. Evans,” he assured her, insinuating his broad frame between Marlena and the two media people. “How about I walk you and Captain Brady back to your office.” “No, that’s all right. I-”

“Dr. Evans!” Ms. Crane interrupted, maneuvering her way around the bodyguard, “We would appreciate a moment of your time.” The glare she aimed toward Frank belied the politeness of her words. “We know this must be an extremely difficult time for you, but you must understand the importance of a story of this magnitude. Would you please give us your reaction to what happened to your daughter?”
Marlena frowned and glanced at Roman again. “Well, we’re upset about her condition, of course…but we’re confident that she’s going to be just fine, very soon.”
A furrow creased Ms. Crane’s perfectly made-up brow. “And where is your fiance John Black in this time of need?”
“*I’m* Samantha’s father,” Roman informed her heatedly, “and I really don’t understand why her medical condition would be of *any* interest at all to the press. For the record, she’s suffering from anaerobic pneumonia, and we’re confident that she’ll be well soon. Now, if you would *excuse* us, please!” His tone left no doubt that it wasn’t a request.
Sudden excitement brightened the reporter’s face, and she shared a conspiratorial sidelong glance with her cameraman. “Then you haven’t been informed yet.”
“Informed of *what*?” Roman replied, tired of the whole business. “We’re not talking about *your* daughter, Captain Brady,” she told him, almost haughtily, before turning to Marlena. “We’re speaking of your youngest child, Isabella, Dr. Evans – and what happened to her this evening.” She drew out the words, her expression predatory, and Marlena felt a feeling of foreboding bloom in her chest.
She licked her lips. “What about Belle?” she asked nervously.
The reporter inched forward until she was framed with Marlena inside her cameraman’s shot – making sure that she would be included for all time in the drama of the next few moments. “As part of our duty as reporters, we monitor calls on the ambulance and police scanners, to

ensure that our viewers receive the most up-to-date coverage possible of breaking news events,” she began pompously. Carl the cameraman resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He felt just a little bit sorry for Dr. Evans, who was regarding Sandy with a wide-eyed expression reminiscent of a deer caught in the headlights.

“Dr. Evans, *please* come with me,” Frank interrupted pleadingly as he reached for her arm.
Marlena shook his hand off, her gaze locked on the reporter’s face. “*No*, Frank, I-” she paused and took a deep breath, “What are you talking about? What has happened to my daughter?”
“I’m so sorry to be the one to tell you this,” Ms. Crane replied, the gleam in her eye giving lie to that statement, “I would have thought you’d have been notified immediately…”
Marlena wanted to strangle the woman, but she suddenly found it very difficult simply to keep breathing. “What?” she managed in a tortured whisper.
“Your daughter Isabella has been kidnapped.” The statement landed with the force of a powerful blow.
It sure makes for great drama, Carl thought guiltily as he watched Belle’s mother react to the devastating news through the eye of his camera. Dr. Evans paled and staggered back, as if absorbing an unexpected punch to the stomach, a low keen emerging from her throat. Her ex-husband grabbed her to hold her upright, his fingers tightening on her upper arms. Sandy said nothing further, allowing the emotion of the moment to carry through.
Carl had been in the news business a long time, and he knew a ratings-grabber when he saw it. This scene of parental devastation would lead every newscast in America that night, he was sure. It was a cameraman’s dream to have a shot go national like that, but at that moment he found that he felt somewhat less than triumphant.
“No!” Marlena whispered, shaking her head vehemently. “No, no, no, nonononononono…Not Belle. She’s *not* gone.” Roman wrapped his arms around her from behind, trying to comfort her.
“I’m sorry,” Ms. Crane offered compassionately, for the camera’s benefit, “She was taken from your home this evening, by a person or persons unknown. The police were called to the house over two hours ago.”

“NO!” Marlena shouted. “You’re *wrong* – you’re *WRONG*, you

*have* to be!”
“Dr. Evans-”
“NO!” Marlena clapped her hands over her ears, as if to keep the devastating words at bay. “How can you *do* this? How can you *say* these things? What kind of horrible person *are* you?” “I assure you that I-”
“*Doc!*” John’s anguished cry echoed down the hall, and – as one – the news crew turned to record the latest installment of their gripping drama. Marlena obliged them by wrenching out of Roman’s grip and racing to meet John halfway. The bright fluorescent hospital lighting showed a countenance suffused with dread and anger. Marlena threw her arms around him, burying her face in his shoulder.
“Tell them they’re wrong, John,” she pleaded, her voice muffled by his shirt and her own fear. “Tell them they made a mistake.” “Doc-”

“Tell them. *TELL* them!”
John swallowed with difficulty as the tears he’d been battling all evening finally began to slip down his cheeks. He reached up to frame her face with his hands, pulling her away from his chest. “I can’t, Doc,” he whispered miserably as he gazed down into her heartbroken face. “I’m so, so sorry, but I can’t. She’s gone.”
“Oh, *GOD*!” Marlena cried, shattered. “Not Belle! Not our baby girl!” “I’m sorry, Doc,” he said, pulling her back against his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”
Sandy flicked a glance toward Carl, arching her eyebrow in a minimalist question. His slight nod was her reply – it meant, Got it all. “Mr. Black,” she called, trying for a tone both compassionate and professional, but not quite succeeding. “If we could just ask the two of you some ques-”
“Get them the hell out of here, Frank!” John ordered fiercely, turning his shoulder in an attempt to protect Marlena from the prying eyes of the camera. “What is the *matter* with you people? Get away from her!”
Sandy felt Roman Brady grab her from behind, but she had learned through long experience how to evade grasping hands. “Mr. Black! Please, would you just tell us how you felt upon hearing the news?”

Incredulity ghosted across his face, mingling with bitter fury. “What the hell kind of question is that! How do you *think* I felt? *Frank*!”

Frank, who had been occupied trying to cover the camera lens as Carl danced from side to side, abruptly gave up any pretense at civility. “If you don’t get the hell out of here right now, *buddy*, I’m going to take that camera apart piece by piece. And then I’ll take *you* apart!” Carl met the bodyguard’s furious gaze, and after a moment, decided discretion was the better part of continuing bodily health and lowered the camera.
Meanwhile, Roman had finally managed to get a good grip on Ms. Crane, and, together, he and Frank herded the two of them down the hallway and around the corner. As they made the turn, Frank glanced back toward John and Marlena, torn between duty and duty.
“Go back, Frank,” Roman ordered. “Make sure no one else ambushes them. I can handle these two.” Frank looked undecided for another moment, before nodding crisply and loping back down the hallway. Roman turned to pin Sandy Crane with a glare. “Is this journalism, then?” he spat furiously. “Ambushing people with devastating news outside their child’s hospital room? God, you people make me sick.”
“It’s news,” Sandy replied, inured by now to criticism. “Dr. Evans and Mr. Black are public figures.”
“Belle isn’t,” he retorted, “and if you don’t want to jeopardize her further, you’ll keep your damn mouth shut.” He turned to look behind him at Carl, who started guiltily and didn’t meet his eyes. “Give me that tape!”
“That’s *our* property!” Sandy interjected sharply. “You have no right to-”
“Give Me The Damn Tape!” Roman’s tone was menacing in the extreme. “If you don’t, then I will remove it from your camera myself, right before I remove your head from your body!”
“You can’t threaten us!” The words were brave, but the look on her face gave away her fear. Carl fumbled with the eject button, his fingers suddenly nerveless.
“I will threaten whomever I damn well please,” Roman said, holding his hand out. “Give it to me!” Carl slapped the tape into his hand. “Now, I want the two of you to get the hell out of this hospital. If you know what’s good for you, you won’t say a word about any of this. If

Belle has really been kidnapped, anything you say or do could put her in further danger. She’s just an innocent little girl, barely five years old. Don’t do that to her.” He slipped the tape into his jacket pocket, and with one final glare, turned back the way he’d come.

After a moment of silence, Sandy turned to Carl. “Did you manage to switch it out?”
Carl produced an identical black videotape from his voluminous camera bag. “Barely. He almost caught me when he turned around.” “What an idiot!” Sandy replied cheerfully. “If he thinks we’d ever give up a story like this…” She held out her hand for the tape, but Carl pulled back, troubled.
“What if he’s right, Sandy? What if we’re putting the kid in more danger?”
“Do you honestly think that if we don’t run with this, no one else will?” she demanded. “This is *big*, Carl. This is *huge*! And right now it’s all *ours* – do you have any idea what this will mean for our careers?” Carl bit his lip and sighed. “Maybe.”
“Maybe, nothing!” Sandy said, snatching the tape from his hands.
“Let’s get back to the station and get our scoop of the century out on
the air.”
***
As Marlena’s violent trembling slowly subsided, the mantra John had been chanting finally filtered through the roaring in her ears. “I’m sorry, Doc,” repeated over and over.
It’s not your fault, her heart automatically replied, but for some reason she couldn’t force herself to say the words. She pulled away from his embrace and wiped her eyes. “What happened, John?” she asked in a low, measured voice.
He glanced down the hallway and nodded at Frank, who gestured toward the waiting room door. John gently guided Marlena inside, away from further prying eyes. “I don’t know, Doc,” he admitted, hating himself for not having something more useful to tell her. “She wasn’t in her room when I went up to get her. We searched the house and the neighborhood, but there wasn’t any sign. Abe’s got the department on it, and he’s called in the FBI.”
She turned her back to him and crossed her arms over her chest.
“Why didn’t you call me?” she whispered, her tone damning.

He flinched and closed his eyes. “I-…I didn’t…God, Doc, I didn’t know what to say.”

She whirled around to regard him angrily. “I had a *right* to know! And I had a right to find out from you instead of those…those *reporters*!” She spat the words. “My God, John, she’s my daughter, too!” “I know,” he muttered miserably. “I’m sorry, Doc.”
“‘I’m sorry’ doesn’t do us much good right now, does it?” she replied sharply. A momentary silence fell, before she spoke again in a more conciliatory tone. “But Brady’s all right, though, isn’t he?”
“He’s fine,” John assured her. “He’s with Carrie, at the new house.”
“So that’s where she disappeared to…”
John nodded. “I hated like hell to take her away from Sami, but…how *is* Sami?”
Marlena sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Holding her own. Mike seems guardedly optimistic now, though there were more than a few tense moments.”
John nodded and another momentary silence fell. He didn’t know how to phrase his next question without sounding callous. “Do…do you have any idea when she’ll be able to talk to us?”
Marlena’s gaze sharpened on his face as she realized the import of that question. “Do you think she saw something?”
He pressed his lips together. “I’m praying that she did.”
She held his gaze, reading the worry and dread in the azure depths of his eyes. The realization she’d been fighting ever since she’d heard of Belle’s disappearance finally forced its way to the forefront of her mind. “You think Stefano has our daughter, don’t you?”
The expression on his face was all the answer she required. ***
Abe opened the door to the FBI agents’ ersatz office and began speaking without preamble. “I talked to the nanny. She says she left the house about fifteen minutes after they got there. She says Sami didn’t look very good – flushed and coughing – so she told her to go see and doctor and offered to help get the kids ready for bed. Now we’ve got a description of the pajamas Belle was wearing. She doesn’t know if Sami locked the door behind her or if she turned on the alarm.” Abe looked up. “So we’ve firmed up the timeline, but that’s about all. She didn’t see anyone suspicious around.”

Blakeley leaned back against the edge of the table, holding her chalk-dusty hands away from her tailored pants. “Do you think she could be in on it.”

“No,” Abe responded emphatically. “She’s completely devastated, so much so that I had to have an officer drive her home. She’s been with those kids since they were very small, and she loves them more than anything. We’ll check her out, of course, but my instincts say ‘No Way’.”
Foster nodded, accepting that, then turned back to the chalkboard. “We need to talk to the brother, then. See if he saw or heard something.”
“He was in bed asleep,” Abe objected.
“We don’t know that he was asleep,” Foster replied patiently. “We
don’t know what he might have seen, or heard. Until the older sister
wakes up, he’s the closest thing we’ve got to an eyewitness. Where is
he?”
“He-” Abe began, then stopped himself. “I can’t tell you that.”
Blakeley’s eyebrows flew upward. “Why not?”
“Because John doesn’t want anyone to know that information. He’s afraid that Stefano might come back for him.”
“That’s unlikely,” Foster pointed out, “because if he had wanted the
boy, he could have taken him this evening much more easily. But it’s
not like we’re going to tell anyone where he is – we just need to talk to
him. And to Black and Dr. Evans, for that matter. Has there been any
word from the hospital?”
Abe shook his head. “No. I-”
The door burst open, revealing a now-harried Officer Hilton wearing a dark scowl on her face. “Turn it on to channel three,” she ordered, pointing to the bank of televisions in the corner. “We’ve got trouble.”
Abe grabbed the remote and did as she asked. The TV clicked on to reveal a news anchor at a desk behind a scrolling SPECIAL BULLETIN notice. Abruptly the scene changed to the tape of Marlena
– and then John – recorded minutes earlier. As they watched the drama unfold, it was Abe who finally voiced the word that all of them were thinking.
“Shit.” Chapter 94

Roman eyed the doorway that led to Marlena’s office with no little trepidation as he wondered what was happening on the other side between John and Marlena. He could well remember his own overwhelming anger when Belle had been taken all those years ago – a deep, desperate fury combined with a sense of helplessness that had set his temper to a hair-trigger. John had looked none- too-stable when he’d arrived at the hospital with the news of Belle’s latest kidnapping, and Roman had no desire to become a handy target for the other man. But – on the other hand – he *did* want to be there for Marlena, to support her…in every single way possible. He wanted to be the one to calm her fears, to hold her as she cried…and, therefore – first of all – he wanted to show her the tape he had confiscated from the news crew, as proof of his sincerity.

As Roman took a step toward the doorway, his celphone rang. Sighing, he withdrew it from his pocket. “Brady.” “Roman,” Abe’s voice replied. “We’ve got trouble.”
***
Marlena gazed out of her office window with unseeing eyes, her stance and expression eerily reminiscent of her pose the previous evening, when she had waited wrapped in slowly growing horror for news on her daughter’s condition. She hadn’t thought that anything could be worse than those agonizing hours spent wondering whether Sami would live or die…but now she was finding out how incorrect that assumption had been. She closed her eyes as Belle’s childish voice piped up inside her mother’s head, repeating her final words before she and Brady had left the engagement party with Sami and Chelsea…”Don’t *wanna* go yet…don’t wanna go yet…” With all her heart, Marlena wished that she had heeded her daughter’s wishes, had allowed her to stay with them, past all reasonable bed-times – or even that she and John had taken their children home themselves. Why did we have to stay at that party? Why was *that* more important than ensuring the safety of our children? A part of her mind recognized the increasing irrationality of her thoughts, but she was too numb with grief and shock to care.

How could I have let this happen to my baby?
Across the room, John snapped his celphone shut with an audible *click* of frustration. The guards he’d ordered posted around his family

members were all in place, but no one suspicious had been sighted – not that he’d really expected anyone would be. He knew quite well that Stefano would wait a few days before making contact – he would want to soften them up by letting their fear escalate to the highest possible level. It’s working, John admitted to himself, but I can’t let Marlena see that. I have to be strong for her. Unfortunately, he was finding that holding himself together was much harder than he might have expected. The guilt he was feeling over his inability to protect his little girl was almost crippling in its intensity.

How could I have let this happen to my baby?
A knock on the doorjamb interrupted their similar silent reveries, and they both turned to find Roman hovering awkwardly in the doorway, his expression clearly chagrined as he glanced from John to Marlena. John spoke before he could utter a word. “Is there news? I was just about to call Abe.”
“I just spoke to him – he said nothing’s come up yet,” Roman replied, grimacing as he held up the videotape. “I was coming to tell the two of you that I had managed to get the tape away from that damn reporter, but apparently they pulled a switch on me. Abe says it’s already all over the television. You’ve probably got about fifteen minutes before the wolves descend.”
Marlena closed her eyes. “Oh, God…”
“What *else* did Abe say, Roman?” John prodded impatiently. He hadn’t held out any hope at all of keeping the news from the press, knowing that his and Marlena’s notoriety made that prospect unlikely in the extreme.
“He and the two FBI agents in charge of the case are on their way over here to talk to the two of you. I told them you’d meet them here in Doc’s office, okay? I figure we can keep the press out with the guards you’ve already got here. Frank’s buddies showed up about five minutes ago and they’re ready for action.”
“I know,” John snapped, “they report to *me*, remember? So, who are the agents?”
Roman frowned. “I don’t remember the names off-hand, but Abe says they seem to be pretty competent. They offered to come over here to talk to you, so you wouldn’t have to leave Sami. They want to set up the phone routine, go over probable suspects, means of entry to the

house, etcetera.”

John snorted, scowling. “Probable suspects – yeah, right. Like there’s any doubt at all who is behind this.” Marlena turned back toward the window, her expression pained.
Roman shrugged as his gaze came to rest on his ex-wife’s back. “I’m just telling you what Abe said, John. No need to shoot the messenger. In fact, why don’t you let me take care of this? You and Doc can-”
“Doc and I can *what*?” John shot back, anger and frustration overflowing as he followed the direction of Roman’s attention. Hit on her while she’s vulnerable, eh, Roman? Vulture… “Look, Roman, thanks for your *input* and all, but I’ll handle this myself, all right? Belle is *my* daughter, and *I’ll* take care of her.”
“Like you’ve done such a bang-up job so far,” Roman muttered sotto voce, but not so softly that John couldn’t hear.
Marlena whirled around and glared at both of them, halting the incipient bloodbath. “This is not helping Belle,” she bit out, her low, quiet tone fooling no one. John turned away, slightly shamefaced, and Marlena focussed on Roman. “If you would like to help, Roman, I would appreciate it if you would stay with Sami. One of us needs to be there when she wakes up.”
“I-” Roman began to protest, but her implacable expression cut him off. He swallowed. “All right, fine.” He managed a small smile for her, and her stiff answering nod was genuinely grateful. But his smile changed to a scowl as his gaze slid to John. “I *will* be a part of this case, though. Don’t even *try* to cut me out of it.” John ignored him and turned away, deep in thought.
Roman reached out to lay a gentle hand on Marlena’s arm. “If you need anything – and I mean *anything* – you just give me a call, all right?” he offered softly. “I will do whatever I can to help, you know that, right?”
She bit her lip, clearly moved by his generosity. “I know,” she replied. “Just take care of our little girl, all right? Just look out for our baby.” “Always,” he swore, and she smiled tearily at him. John’s back was still to them, but he tensed visibly. Squashing the smile that threatened to reveal his satisfaction, Roman leaned forward and kissed Marlena softly on the cheek. “I’ll call you if there’s a change.” She nodded.

Roman turned to open the door to leave and came face to face with Abe, whose hand was raised to knock. “Abe! Has there been any news?” Roman’s gaze slid over his best friend’s shoulder to land on the two federal agents arrayed behind him. They returned his gaze impassively, their expressions unreadable.

“No, nothing yet,” Abe replied as the trio entered the office. “This is Captain Roman Brady, one of my best investigators – I mentioned him to you on the way over in the car.” The agents nodded in unison, and Roman wondered just exactly what Abe had told them. “This is John Black…and Dr. Marlena Evans – they’re Belle’s parents,” Abe added, gesturing to them. “And this is Special Agent Robert Foster,” he continued, indicating the keen-eyed sandy-haired man to his right, “and Special Agent Carter Blakeley.” The slim brunette nodded at Roman, frowning slightly at his right hand, which still rested on Marlena’s arm. He let go, but slowly, trying not to allow the agent to gauge the accuracy of her apparent suspicion. These two are sharp, he thought, making a mental note of the fact.
“Roman,” Marlena prodded, tipping an eyebrow toward the door. “We don’t know when Sami will wake up, so you had better get going. Tell her that her momma loves her.”
He nodded. “I will, Doc. You just take care of yourself. I’ll talk to you later, Abe, Agents.” He very pointedly did not include John in his parting remarks, but the other man didn’t seem to notice. He was staring down at his closed celphone, a frown on his face.
Agent Foster saw this as an opening as Roman departed. “We have all the lines tapped, Mr. Black. When the kidnapper calls, we should be able to trace it.” This reassurance brought forth no visible reaction. “Mr. Black?”
John looked up, his gaze unfocussed. “What? Oh, phone traces.” His expression hardened. “Yeah, right, whatever.”
Agent Blakeley tilted her head and regarded him consideringly. “You don’t agree with this course of action?”
“I don’t feel that ‘this course of action’, as you put it, will do a damn bit of good. But, knock yourself out. Abe, can I talk to you for a minute?” “This is a *federal* investigation, Mr. Black,” Blakeley put in sharply, not accustomed to being dismissed out-of-hand. “Agent Foster and I are in charge.”

John’s lip curled almost contemptuously. “Looks to me like Stefano DiMera’s in charge, but, hey, what do I know? Fine. What do you want from me?”

“We want to go over the events of last night,” Foster interjected smoothly, shooting Blakeley a quelling glance. “With both you and Dr. Evans. We want to make sure that we have the whole picture of what happened.”
John leaned back against the arm of the couch and held his hand up, as if in surrender. “Fine, ask away.”
Frowning at the other man’s seeming flippancy, Foster pulled out his notebook. “What time did you arrive at the engagement party?”
John shrugged. “About six-thirty, I guess. Doc was a little late getting home from work, and Belle,” he paused, swallowing convulsively, and Foster found that momentary demonstration of emotion very telling, “um, Belle couldn’t decide what dress she wanted to wear. So we were running a bit behind. The party started at six, but Carrie knew ahead of time that we might be late.”
Foster nodded. “And what time did the children depart the party?” He kept his tone briskly professional, but both parents winced in unison anyway.
Marlena glanced over to John, her expression carefully unreadable. “About eight o’clock, I’d say. They were getting tired, so Sami and Chelsea volunteered to take them home. I remember glancing at my watch, thinking that it was a shame the two of them couldn’t stay and enjoy more of the party, but I was glad to let them take the children…” She pressed her lips together and looked down at the floor. “So this arrangement wasn’t pre-planned?” Blakeley queried.
Marlena shook her head. “No…no, I guess we didn’t really consider it. I suppose we thought the children could nap upstairs above the Pub when they got tired. But Sami wasn’t feeling well – I guess she wanted to get home, and we didn’t see any harm in letting her take them…” her voice trailed off and she turned toward the window again, her distress evident in her tense shoulders.
“You couldn’t have anticipated this,” Foster said soothingly. “Dr. Evans-”
“Of *course*, I could have anticipated this,” she retorted, wheeling around to glare at him. “I should have *known* this would happen!”

“Doc-” John interceded, looking pained.

“Stop it!” she snapped, transferring her glare to him. “Stop trying to *reassure* me! We *both* should have seen this coming – God knows it has happened often enough! Don’t pretend you’re not thinking it, too.”
“*I* dismissed the guards,” he protested heatedly. “*I’m* the one who decided the threat had passed-”
“And *I* don’t have a mind of my own?” came her sarcastic rejoinder. “*I* don’t have enough sense to fear Stefano without *your* say-so? Is that what you think?” She nearly spat the words.
“John! Marlena!” Abe interrupted, holding up his hands. “Stop, *please*. We don’t have *time* for this!” They both fell silent. Marlena closed her eyes and turned away again, her lower lip trembling slightly. John’s hands fisted into tight balls as he glared down at the floor.
“Perhaps it would be more helpful if we interviewed you separately,” Foster essayed hesitantly. He found the conflicting swirl of emotions in the room decidedly intriguing, but he was distressingly conscious of every swiftly passing moment in which Belle Black chances for a safe return to her family diminished further and further. Too damn *right* we don’t have time for this… was his first thought, but he didn’t it utter aloud. Instead, he said, “Hearing your impressions individually might enable us to get a clearer picture of events.”
Marlena didn’t reply to his suggestion. John glanced over, as if expecting some response from her, but she stayed silent, her back to them. After a moment, he simply shook his head and waved a weary hand. “Fine, whatever. C’mon, Abe, I want to talk to you.” He headed toward the outer office, and, after a moment of hesitation, Abe left as well. Foster raised an eyebrow at Blakeley and tilted his head toward Marlena. Blakeley nodded her acquiescence, and Foster followed the two men out of the room, shutting the door behind them.
Blakeley studied the silent woman in front of her, comparing the actual sight of the victim’s mother to the mental picture she had constructed based on the few files she’d managed to read before reaching the hospital. Eminent psychiatrist… she remembered, but the woman by the window looked more like a surgeon – or an intern – her fine blond hair up in a haphazard ponytail, clad in wrinkled green scrubs, circles

of exhaustion shrouding her eyes, giving her pale skin the translucent appearance of thin rice paper. She was clearly distressed, but, curiously, in Blakeley’s experience, not typically so. Most women in her position would have yet to come through the initial shock and terror, and the agent had expected to find the girl’s parents sobbing in each other’s arms, not standing a room’s width apart, like frozen figurines in glass bell jars. She found the distance between them a bit surprising, knowing of their newly engaged status. What does it mean?

“Would you like something to drink before we start?” Blakeley finally asked, wondering why Marlena hadn’t begun to pepper her with questions. Why doesn’t she want to know what we’re doing to get her daughter back?
Marlena shook her head, her silent vigil remaining unbroken.
Okay, let’s ditch the yes or no questions, then… “How is your older daughter doing?”
A small silence. Then: “She’s still listed as critical, but the doctors are optimistic that there will be no further crises. It’s mainly a matter of waiting for the antibiotics to work, and avoiding any further complications.” Her tone was dry, factual, and her expression, as she turned to regard the agent, was coolly blank. “She won’t be up to answering questions for a while, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“An eyewitness would be helpful,” Blakeley admitted, wondering at the other woman’s emotional control. Though she had no children of her own, the agent was reasonably sure she would be a basket case in a similar situation. And she’s so very together…Why? “But we do have set procedures to follow in these cases. That’s why Agent Foster and I wanted to talk to you and Mr. Black, as you’re the parents of the victim.”
Marlena nodded. “I understand.” A small, sour smile ghosted across her lips. “And I understand the line of questioning you’re pursuing and why. Let me assure you that neither John nor I had anything to do with our daughter’s disappearance, Agent Blakeley – no matter what the statistics say.”
“It *is* true that a typical child-napping involves one parent or the other,” Blakeley affirmed. Paranoia, much? Why did her mind immediately jump to that conclusion?

The bitter smile widened a tiny bit, as though Marlena were reading the agent’s mind. “I’m not paranoid, Agent Blakeley. In the past, upon occasion, I have assisted the Salem Police Department with psychological profiles – I have more than a passing acquaintance with rules and procedures. But, surely, you must see that this case is anything but typical.”

Blakeley nodded, taking the point, but she still felt slightly bothered. Something just isn’t right… “I suppose,” she replied slowly, “that that sort of experience could account for *your* apparent, um…*calm*…in the face of what has happened.”
Marlena closed her eyes, pained. “I’m anything *but* calm, I promise you. But I haven’t slept in over twenty-four hours, and I watched my daughter go into respiratory arrest repeatedly last night…and I’m just *tired* of it all. Is that so hard to understand?”
Blakeley had a feeling that Marlena wasn’t just speaking of an exhaustion borne out of the previous twenty-four hours. However, she felt marginally reassured by the woman’s apparent sincerity. “No, it isn’t hard to understand at all. But…it’s important to move as quickly as we can on this. Are you feeling well enough to begin?”
“Of course,” Marlena replied simply. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get my little girl back.” She opened her eyes, and the diamond-bright determination in the hazel orbs did much to dispel Blakeley’s previous estimation of her emotional calm. “*Whatever* it takes.” ***

“I don’t understand why you’re being so obstructive, Mr. Black,” Foster finally blurted, pushed beyond his usual calm mien by the stubborn attitude of the man in front of him. “I would think you would be willing to give us all the help we require. We *are*, after all, on the same side here.”
John appeared as though he wished to argue, but Abe laid a quelling hand on his arm. John sighed, shook his head, and rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I’m sorry, Agent Foster,” he said, not sounding as though he really meant it. “I just…I just don’t have a lot of faith in your agency’s ability to find my daughter.”
Okay, that’s a start… “Would you prefer it if we would leave it to another agency – the ISA perhaps?” Not that we would…
John uttered a short, bitter bark of laughter. “Not likely – not *ever*!

Look, it’s no reflection on you or your partner – I’m sure you are fine agents. But I can’t help but remember what the FBI said to me the *last* time Stefano took Marlena.”

“And what was that?” Foster asked patiently.
John met Foster’s gaze head-on for the first time since they’d met, and Foster was stung by the angry bitterness he saw in the other man’s eyes. “They told me,” John drawled contemptuously, “that I should just *accept* that she was dead. They *told* me to get on with my life.” He stepped forward, his eyes boring holes in Foster’s head. “As if that were even remotely possible. So you see, Agent Foster, if Marlena wasn’t the woman she is, if she hadn’t managed to effect her escape entirely on her own, then I’m *certain* the FBI would still be spouting that same tired party line.” With one final glare, John turned on his heel and paced back toward the office door. “Belle is so much Marlena’s daughter, in so many ways,” he continued in a low voice, clenching his fists. “But she *is* just a child, and she’s helpless in that madman’s hands. She won’t be able to rescue herself, and she won’t be able to help us find her.” He swung around again, his expression utterly determined. “But I *will* find her. I *will*.”
“And we want to help you do that,” Foster told him sincerely.
“You know what? I almost believe that. But you’re not understanding the basics of this game, Agent Foster – DiMera doesn’t want to deal with you. You aren’t even a part of it. His quarrel is with Doc and me.”
Foster was more than a little tired of recitations of DiMera doom and gloom. “This isn’t the Wild West, Mr. Black,” he replied acerbically. “You don’t need to meet him at the center of town at high noon and duel it out with six-shooters. It does not reflect poorly on you to allow us to investigate.”
“You don’t get it, do you? If I thought there was anything – *anything* – you people could do for her, I’d be the first one cheering you on. But you don’t have a f***ing clue what’s going on here.”
“What if your assumption about DiMera is wrong?” Foster returned heatedly. “What if he isn’t the one who did this? My God, Black, you’re a billionaire, for pity’s sake. You and your daughter were just on the cover of a national magazine for every nutjob in fifty states to see! Is it so outside the realm of possibility that someone else could have done this?”

John regarded him silently for a moment, his rapid breathing

reverberating harshly in the still air. Finally, he crossed his arms over
his chest and glanced over to Abe, who nodded slightly, his
expression pleading. “Fine,” John said. “Point taken. It’s not entirely
inconceivable that someone other than DiMera has taken her. So, I’ll
tell you what – I’ll take DiMera, and you can have everyone else in the
world, all right? Between the two of us, we should just about have it
covered.”
“Mr. Black-”
“Take it or leave it, Agent Foster. You don’t seem to realize that you have no jurisdiction over me or my actions. There’s nothing you can do to stop me.”
“That’s not entirely true,” Foster pointed out. “If Agent Blakeley decide that you’re obstructing our investigation, then it is within our purview to…to stop you.”
John re-pinned him with that disconcerting glare. “You think so? You *did* just point out that I happen to be a billionaire, remember? With all the power and connections that come along with it. How long do you think you and Blakeley would last here if I took it in mind to make a few phone calls, huh?”
“John-” Abe protested. “There’s no need for that. He’s just doing his job.”
“I know that!” John snapped, rounding on his friend. “And believe me, back when I was a cop, I hated it when people used money and power to mess with the law. But this is Belle’s *life* we’re talking about here, Abe. Everything else is secondary to that. Hell, nothing else even matters!” He turned back to Foster and pointed a finger at the other man’s chest. “So you do what you have to do, and so will I. Just don’t get in my way.”
Foster stared stonily at him, unwilling to give the appearance of acquiescence, though he had a sinking feeling in his stomach that a power play would turn out just as Black had outlined. “We need to interview your son,” he finally said in an even tone, conceding nothing, “if you’d be so kind as to tell us where he is.”
John regarded him silently for a moment, considering. Then, deciding he’d made his point, he nodded shortly. “I’ll bring him to the station. But either Doc or I have to be present while you talk to him, or no

dice.”

Foster wondered if Blakeley was having as hard a time with Dr. Evans
as he was having with Black. Acknowledging that further argument
would probably be pointless, he merely nodded his acceptance of
John’s conditions. They wouldn’t have tried to cut the boy’s parents
out of it in any case, but it would probably be futile to point that out.
“Fine.”
***
“Hey, peanut,” Roman said softly as he slid into the chair next to Sami’s bed. He reached out to take her right hand, carefully avoiding jostling any of the attached tubes and wires, then turned to study his daughter’s pale hospital-gown shrouded form. The respirator tube distended her mouth, and a thin film of sweat covered her face and matted her thick blonde hair. A light blue cotton sheet covered her chest, and Roman was distinctly grateful not to be forced to witness where they’d cut her open to insert the chest tube which had reinflated her lungs. The beeping of the surrounding machinery was only slightly reassuring, but the nurse who’d allowed him into the room had seemed guardedly optimistic. The possibility that his daughter would recover fully did little, however, to alleviate the crushing guilt he was feeling.
He reached up with his other hand to smooth her hair away from her face. “I’m sorry, Sami, baby. I’m so sorry. I should have seen this. I should have known.” Suddenly, he could no longer look at her, feeling the weight of an entirely imaginary accusing stare. Why, Daddy? the mental image of his crying daughter asked him. Why? He bowed his head until it touched the edge of the hospital mattress.
“I know you don’t understand this, sweetheart,” he said softly in a muffled voice. “I know you’ve been angry at me for the way I’ve behaved. And I know you can’t see why it’s so impossible for me to forgive them.” He fell silent for a moment. “I wish you would try, though. I mean, Sami, you’re a parent now – you know what it means to love a child. You can imagine how it feels to have one *taken* from you, to have people tell you you have no *right* to them. Why else would you be fighting Lucas so hard to keep custody of Will? Oh, baby, I know you could understand every single thing I’ve done if you would just try.”

He finally looked up again, an apologetic expression on his face. “But none of that excuses what I’ve done to you, peanut, and I want you to know, I know that. I’ve been so focussed on my own problems, I wasn’t able to see what was right in front of my face. I couldn’t see how sick you were.” He leaned forward until his lips were right next to her ear, and one tear escaped to fall on his daughter’s pale cheek. “I thought you were asleep, there on the couch, Sami, or I would have gotten you somehelp, no matter the consquences to me. I swear to God, I just thought you were asleep.” He choked back a sob on the final word. Please, please, you have to believe that.

A soft fringe of eyelashes fluttered, then opened. Roman Brady found
himself staring into the watery blue depths of his daughter’s eyes.
“Sami?”
Chapter 95
“Sami,” Roman said urgently, resisting the urge to shake his daughter by the shoulders. “Sami, can you hear me?”
She blinked blearily up at him from her hospital bed, her throat tightening convulsively around the respirator tube as she instinctively fought to breathe on her own. He winced in sympathy and reached down to grasp her hand, lacing his fingers through hers. “Oh, Sami, baby, don’t fight the tube, okay? It’s there to help you breathe.” Her frantic twisting calmed a bit. “Do you know who I am, honey?” he asked, trying for a soothing tone, but it came out more anxious than calming. Do you remember anything that happened last night? was the question he really wanted to ask. “Sami, if you can understand me, blink twice for me, okay?” Her eyelashes fluttered, but he was unsure whether it was a voluntary or involuntary action.
The click of the door opening interrupted any further interrogation as the nurse poked her head inside. “Captain Brady?”
“She’s awake,” he replied. “Get the doctor. And…I guess we need to
tell her mother.”
***
Carrie trailed a spoon through the bowl of waffle batter, her strokes halfhearted as she stared blankly at the early- morning television news. A portly weatherman who looked entirely too perky for the early hour was gesturing toward an animated yellow sun that danced across a weather map. The day was apparently going to be a good one, at

least meteorologically speaking. Who cares? thought Carrie, stirring the batter. She had felt mildly guilty about being the one to break in all of John and Marlena’s new appliances, but she wanted to make something special for Brady for breakfast, to fortify him for the ordeal to come. He was in for a rough next few days, even anticipating the best, swiftest outcome to his sister’s ordeal. And there’s no guarantee of that, is there? Carrie thought sourly.

The weather report ended at the top of the hour, and the anchorwoman returned to recap the forthcoming day’s headlines. It took Carrie’s glazed eyes a moment to focus after the woman said a familiar name.
“What the…?” she murmured, as Austin chose just that moment to enter the kitchen. He’d spent the night in Eric’s would-be bedroom, as Brady had been unwilling to leave Carrie’s side for an instant, not even to sleep. She’d argued that they could all share the big double bed in her new room, but Austin had refused to join them. She hadn’t really understood why, but at the time had been too exhausted to protest.

“Morning,” Austin muttered, heading straight for the coffeepot, which rested next to the brand new sparkling waffle iron in the completely refurbished kitchen.
“Shhh,” she muttered, waving a hand at him. He glanced at the television, and his eyes, too, widened in horror. “Oh, no.”

They watched in appalled silence as Marlena’s face paled on the six-inch screen. The camera shot zoomed out just in time to catch her as she wrenched away from Roman and rushed into John’s arms, protesting in a heartbreaking cry against the kidnapping of her daughter. The shot was a good one, capturing both the angry tears on John’s face and the strength of their embrace.
“What is the *matter* with you people? Get away from her!” the small image of John yelled at the unseen reporter.
“Oh, God,” Carrie said as the shot switched back to the anchorwoman. “That was the scene late yesterday evening at Salem University Hospital. Again, to recap our lead story, the five- year-old daughter of billionaire businessman John Black, a major stockholder in both Alamain and Titan Industries, and his fiancee, well-known Salem psychiatrist Dr. Marlena Evans, was reportedly kidnapped from her

bedroom sometime late last night. Neither the police nor the FBI have issued word on possible suspects, and are responding to all questions with ‘No comment’. The family has issued no statement as of yet. We will update you on this story as more information becomes available.”

Carrie smashed the On/Off button with her fist and the picture vanished. “Damn, damn, damn damn, how in the *hell* did they find out about this?” she muttered, forgetting in her misery that she had lectured John just last night about the inevitability of the story getting out. She whirled around to glare at Austin, who held up his hands. “Don’t look at me. I-”
“Oh, please – I’m not accusing you. I just-” She caught sight of Brady hovering in the kitchen doorway. Oh, no. “Brady, honey, how long have you been standing there?”
Brady blinked at her, his expression uncertain. One lock of brown hair fell forward into his eyes, and he hugged a dilapidated brown bear to his chest. The sight of his forlorn face tugged painfully at her heart. “Where’s Momma and Daddy?” he wondered plaintively.
“They’re still at the hospital with Sami, sweetheart,” Carrie told him, wondering if that were true. “We’ve got bacon and biscuits on the counter. Are you ready for some waffles? I’m making them for you special this morning.”
He bit his lip and shook his head, glancing at Austin. “No…”
Carrie put down the bowl of batter and reached over to lift the boy into her arms. “You have to eat, honey. Do you want cereal instead?”
She could feel him shaking his head against her neck. “Not hungry…” he said softly, hugging her tightly.
She couldn’t blame him – she didn’t feel much like eating, either – but as the de facto head of their impromptu household, she felt obliged to argue. “Brady-”
“Belle’s gone,” he said abruptly.
She froze, then gently extricated him from her embrace. She set him down on the floor and knelt in front of him. “What did you say, Brady?” He mashed his lips together and stared at her, his eyes wide and sad. “Why did you say that, Brady?” she asked again, nearly holding her breath. Did he hear the news report? Or did he see something last night? Could he know who did this? The little boy shrugged, his gaze flicking over her shoulder to land on the silent television. “Brady,

please tell me why you said that.”

He merely blinked at her. She opened her mouth to ask again, but the ringing of the telephone next to the refrigerator interrupted her. She glanced toward it and frowned, dismayed by the intrusion, but she knew that John and Marlena were the only ones with the new number. “I want to talk more about this, Brady, but I have to get the phone. Could you get him some juice, Austin?” She picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“It’s me, Carrie,” John replied. “Doc and I are still here at the hospital, but the media found out about Belle so we’re holed up in Doc’s office. There’s no news on Sami’s condition, but Mike did say last night that if she held on ’til morning there should be no further complications, so in this case no news is good news.”
Carrie exhaled in relief. “Oh, that’s wonderful. But she hasn’t awakened yet?”
“Not that I know of. Listen, Carrie, I know you want to see her, but I need you to do me another favor first. I need for you and Austin to get Brady dressed and bring him down to the station, all right?”
Carrie glanced over at Brady, who was seated at the kitchen table staring morosely into his glass of apple juice. Austin tried in vain to interest him in a piece of bacon. “Do you think he knows something about…what happened?” she whispered. Brady evinced no visible reaction to her words.
“The FBI thinks he might,” John replied in a clipped tone. “I’ve spoken to the guards outside the house, so don’t be nervous when they tail you. Oh, and bring a change of clothes for the both of us, would you? I’m still in my suit and Marlena’s in scrubs – just grab whatever’s handy. The two of us will meet you at the station.”
Carrie ran a hand through her hair. “All right, yes. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”
“Thanks, punkin. See you soon.” *Click*
“Was that John?” Austin asked, nibbling on a piece of bacon. “Yes. He wants us to bring Brady to him.”
That got the little boy’s attention. “Daddy?” he piped up hopefully.
“Daddy,” she agreed, running a hand through his hair. “But first you
have to eat some breakfast.”
***

“It’s all arranged,” John told the assemblage in Marlena’s office as he closed his celphone. “Carrie and Austin will bring him down to the station.”

The two FBI agents radiated minimal satisfaction, reminding John that he’d been severely trying their patience and tolerance since their arrival. Not that he cared. Abe merely looked worried.
“I want to go see Sami first,” Marlena told him firmly, as though she feared he would argue. “I don’t care if the media is out there or not.” John just nodded, and Abe opened the door. The muffled murmur of the reporters immediately swelled to a roar, held at bay only by the presence of the security guards.
“Dr. Evans! Mr. Black! Do you have any-”
“Has there been any word on wh-”
“How did the kidnapper get inside-”
John and Marlena exchanged grim glances. “Ready to run the gauntlet?” he murmured as Agent Foster and Agent Blakeley preceded them out the door.
She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and nodded.
***
Vivian rapped loudly on the front door of the DiMera mansion, a determined expression on her face. “If she isn’t here, Ivan, I swear I’ll-” “Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea, Madame,” Ivan interrupted uneasily, glancing back toward the driveway. “It might be better if we just stayed uninvolved.”
Vivian glared at him. “We *can’t*, Ivan. If Kristen has done what I think she’s done-”
The door opened to reveal a pajama-clad Kristen, sans pregnancy padding, blinking sleepily in the sunlight. She scowled at them. “Vivian! Do you have *any* idea what time it is?”
Vivian pushed her way past the other woman and stalked into the living room, sniffing peremptorily at the jumbled mess of books, clothes, and dishes that littered the furniture and floor. “It’s not *that* early, Kristen. We’ve been awake for hours. Phew, this place is *filthy*!”
“If you came over to criticize my housekeeping, you can just leave, all right? I’m really not feeling very well.”
Vivian whirled around and pinned Kristen with a glare. “No, I can see

that. You’ve lost a lot of weight recently, haven’t you?”

It took Kristen a moment to understand her meaning. “I saw that it was you through the peephole,” she explained sourly. “Since you *know* that I’m not having John’s child, there’s no point in the padding, is there?”
“So does this mean you’re throwing in the towel?” Vivian returned sarcastically. “Have you suddenly realized that you’ll never have John, no matter what you do? Was it a beautiful, crystal epiphany?” Her voice fell to an angry hiss. “Or is it maybe that you *already* have John’s child? Is that it, Kristen?”
Kristen glanced from Vivian to Ivan and back again, her brow furrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about *Belle*, you contemptible witch!”
“What about her?”
“‘What about her?'” Vivian mimicked nastily. “I’ll tell you ‘what about her’. She disappeared from her bed late last night. Her parents are completely frantic, and the media is having a feeding frenzy.”
Kristen’s mouth gaped open. “I…I went to bed early…didn’t see the news. “What *happened*?”
“That’s all we know,” Ivan put in, his tone almost conciliatory. He shifted on his feet, visibly uncomfortable with the palpable hostility emanating from Vivian. “The police are not saying very much. We don’t know who they suspect,”
“But you suspect *me*,” Kristen concluded. “Am I right?”
“Um,” said Ivan.
Vivian shot him an exasperated look. “Of *course* we suspect you,” she said impatiently. “You’ve been completely around the bend since the day John dumped you for Marlena. For months I’ve been expecting to hear something on the news about you, a bell tower and an automatic weapon.”
“Very funny.” Kristen dropped down on the couch, exhaling in a huff. “I had nothing to do with this, Vivian.”
“Am I supposed to trust you? To take your *word* on it? Please, give me a little more credit than that. We all know how much you’ve wanted to hurt John and Marlena for what they did to you. And nothing could hurt them more than losing their little girl.”
“I *know* that,” Kristen replied in a hurt tone. “And I could never wish

that kind of pain on anyone. Don’t you think I know how much it hurts to lose a child? My *God*, Vivian.” Her voice broke as a single tear rolled down her cheek.

Vivian studied her adversary’s face, chewing her lip in uncertainty. Suddenly, her headlong rush over to the mansion seemed a little…ridiculous. After all, Kristen may be crazy, but she’s not Stefano…right?
Kristen buried her face in her hands and moaned. “Oh, God, this just makes everything into an even bigger mess…”
Vivian sat down gingerly on the cushion next to her. “Why?”
Kristen leaned her head back and closed her eyes. “Because it was almost *over*, Vivian. I was almost free.” “What do you mean?”

“I…decided to stop fighting it. I’m just too tired to care anymore, Vivian. I mean, finding a child, passing it off as John’s baby – I just couldn’t see the point, you know? It would just mean that I would *never* get away from Marlena, that she would *always* be in my life. And for what? He wouldn’t come back to me. It would all be for nothing.”
“So you were going to tell John about the miscarriage, then.” Vivian’s dry tone told of her disbelief.
Kristen averted her gaze guiltily. “Well, no, not exactly. I was just going to sort of…miscarry again. But I guess that’s out of the question right now.”
Vivian regarded her with no little horror. “What? Kristen, that’s *cruel*.” “*Why*? Why is that cruel? It’s what *happened*, Vivian. I lost our little girl, and *I* had to deal with it. Why shouldn’t he? And if he should happen to feel a little bit guilty – well, he *deserves* to. He wasn’t there for her, he wasn’t there for *me*.” Her shoulders hunched defensively. “If I tell him the truth, then he’ll spend all his time being mad at me, and feeling self-righteous because I lied to him – not mourning her the way she deserves to be mourned. My baby deserves better than that – she deserves better than to be her father’s afterthought.” A brief silence fell.
“She has a point, Madame,” Ivan finally ventured.
Vivian shot him an exasperated glare. “This isn’t about what that baby deserved, or whether or not John is responsible for what happened. I’m very sorry for your loss, Kristen, but that doesn’t give you the right

to *torture* John and Marlena.”

“I’m *not*,” Kristen replied plaintively. “For God’s sake, Vivian, I did *not* take Belle. And I haven’t done anything else to them, either, except insult them behind their backs. Is it really so hard to understand why I’m not their biggest fan? Just because I’m not thrilled that *my* fiance dumped me for another woman *doesn’t* make me a kidnapper.”
“That’s a good point also, Madame,” Ivan said.
“Shut up, Ivan,” Vivian snapped. “Look, Kristen, my point is, Ivan and I are the only ones who know just how far you were willing to go to get John back, so it’s up to us to make sure you didn’t have anything to do with Belle’s disappearance.” Her gaze narrowed. “Unless you *want* us to spill everything to the police.”
Kristen’s lips thinned. “No, of course not. Look, Vivian, the only thing that will do is make the police waste time and manpower, which would be better utilized trying to find the *real* kidnapper. So just tell me – what do I have to do to make you believe me?”
Vivian stood up from the couch. “Ivan and I are going to search this house. If we find *anything* – and I mean *anything* – to indicate that you are somehow connected to all this, then we’re calling John.” Kristen regarded her steadily. “And if-, no *when*, you don’t?”
Vivian grimaced. “We’ll let you know. Come on, Ivan.” They turned and disappeared up the stairs.
Kristen watched them go, her face expressionless.
***
Marlena heaved a great sigh of relief as they entered the hospital ICU, leaving the pack of rabid reporters behind them. Freedom of the press notwithstanding, the members of the media had been cowed by the righteous wrath of Chief of Staff Reilly, who had laid down the law in no uncertain terms. They’d been banished to the waiting rooms and the parking garage, where they were probably camped out around John’s jeep and her car. Vultures, she cursed, before dismissing them from her mind.
Nurse Paulette Sandene was standing outside the door to Sami’s room. “Paulette,” Marlena called. “Is Sami all right?”
“Awake and disoriented,” Paulette replied with a smile. “But that, as you know, is a good sign. She came out of it much earlier than we had

estimated, and that bodes very well for her recovery. Captain Brady is in with her now.” The nurse had of course heard the news of Belle’s kidnapping the previous evening, and eyed the FBI agents curiously, but departed without further demur.

Marlena turned to the agents. “Wait here,” she ordered in her I’m-a-doctor-don’t-mess-with-me voice. “She doesn’t need to be overwhelmed by people the minute she wakes up.” Agent Blakeley opened her mouth to protest, and Marlena held up a hand. “Abe can come in with us, and he’ll hear everything she has to say, if she has *anything* to tell us, that is. Don’t argue with me about this. I’m the doctor here, and you won’t win.”
Foster laid a hand on Blakeley’s arm, and she swallowed her protest, nodding sharply.
Abe followed John and Marlena into Sami’s room, leaving the door open as a professional courtesy, which allowed the agents to listen in. Roman, who had been leaning over Sami and speaking in low, urgent tones, abruptly straightened and turned to face them. Marlena barely spared him a glance before rushing to her daughter’s side, taking her hand. “Oh, Sami, baby, I’m so glad you’re awake.”
Sami blinked blearily at her mother, managing to focus on her face for one brief moment. A low cry keened from her throat, and a tear rolled down her cheek. Her lips moved around the respirator tube, forming a word that might have been ‘Mom’.
Marlena smoothed her daughter’s hair and blinked back her own tears. “I’m here, sweetie. Momma’s here.” Sami’s fingers tightened around her palm. “That’s right, baby. Just hold on. I’m right here.” Sami’s eyelids fluttered closed, and her breathing eased.
“The doctor came by, and he ordered something to knock her out,” Roman told them. “She was fighting the respirator, and he was worried she’d dislodge the chest tube. I think it scared her.”
“Understandably,” Marlena agreed, not taking her gaze off of her daughter. “I want to stay here with her.” “Doc-”

“She needs me, John,” Marlena replied without turning. “If my being here helps her…” She closed her eyes, wincing slightly. “I can’t help Belle right now, but I can be here for Sami. Please, John…”
“All right,” he said. “You’re right, I’m sorry. I can handle the thing with

Brady by myself. You just take care of Sami.” He glanced over at his friend. “Abe?”

“*He* can’t come,” Agent Blakeley pointed out sharply. “We *must* have someone from law enforcement available to question Samantha the moment she’s able to talk – and that’s *not* negotiable. Since you don’t want *us* in here…”
“I’ll be here,” Roman said. “I can talk to her.”
Blakeley crossed her arms over her chest. “That’s a conflict of interest of mammoth proportions and you know it. Your daughter is a material witness to a crime, at the very least.” She frowned at Abe. “Look, Captain Carver, we’re willing to meet you halfway, but you can’t-”
Abe cut her off. “I’m not arguing with you, Agent Blakeley. I’ll stay here, at least for the time being.” He turned to John. “Bo should be at the station by the time you get there. Tell him I want him in on this one.” His glance slid to Roman. “What about you, Roman? You said you wanted to be a part of the investigation.” “Captain Carver-” Blakeley continued her protest.
“Look!” he exploded, then caught himself, beginning again in a more reasonable tone. “Look, Agent Blakeley, Roman and Detective Bo Brady are two of my finest investigators, and despite the fact that they are personally connected to our witness, I think they have a great deal to contribute here. They know all the players, and Belle’s parents trust them – the same can’t be said for either of you. So that’s my decision…and it *is* my call, agents.”
It wasn’t, really, but they understood the significance of the stubborn expression on John’s face, which clearly illustrated the tenuous nature of his willingness to cooperate. Foster glanced at Blakeley – It’s not worth the fight right now, his eyes argued. Sighing, she nodded her agreement.
“You can go, Roman,” Marlena said from over by the bed, startling all of them. They had almost forgotten she was there, so quiet had she been. “I’ll stay here with Sami. I know you want to do whatever you can for Belle, and we appreciate it.”
Foster stifled a sudden urge to laugh at the look on John’s face, which communicated something other than appreciation. Hmmm…
“I want to be here for Sami as well, Doc,” Roman protested. “And for you, you know that.” John’s expression darkened further, enlightening

Foster. *Oh*, so *that’s how it is…

“I’ll be fine, Roman,” she told him calmly. “We both will be.” She turned back to Sami, dismissing them.
John glanced at them. “Could you excuse us for a minute. I’ll be right with you. I just want to talk to Doc.”
The agents nodded and exited the room. Abe gestured toward the door. “I’ll be right outside.”
“Thanks, Abe.” John shot Roman a pointed glare. “Roman. Excuse us, *please.*” It wasn’t a friendly request by any means.
Roman rolled his eyes and walked over to the bed. He reached out to
caress his sleeping daughter’s cheek. “I’ll be back later to see you,
peanut.” He rested his other hand on Marlena’s shoulder. “Call me the
minute she wakes up, okay?”
Marlena nodded.
He turned to leave, giving John a slight smile on his way out. John shook his head and moved toward Marlena. “Doc? Honey?” “She looks so small and helpless, lying here,” Marlena murmured, her gaze riveted on her daughter’s face.
“She’s through the worst of it, though,” he pointed out, kneeling next to her chair. “That’s good news.”
“Is she? Was that the worst?” Marlena bit her lower lip, blinking back tears. “Or is the worst just beginning?”
John laid a hand on her arm, trying not to react when she flinched at
his touch. “We’ll find her, Doc.”
Marlena didn’t reply.
Sighing, he got to his feet. “I’ll call you if there’s any news.” She nodded without looking up at him. “I love you, Doc.”
Another barely perceptible nod.
Unwilling – or perhaps unable – to bear watching her any longer, John
left without another word.
***
When Vivian and Ivan returned to the living room, they awakened Kristen from a light doze on the couch. “Find anything?” she asked, yawning.
“Not upstairs,” Vivian replied shortly. “Tell me something, Kristen – where were you last night?”

“Why?”

“Why do you think? As loathe as I am to admit it, I’m the one that told you that John and Marlena’s engagement party was going to take place yesterday evening at the Pub. You knew *exactly* where they’d be.”
“So did half the town,” Kristen pointed out. “And *I* would have assumed that the kids were there with them, so if I *had* wanted to kidnap one of them, that’s where I would have gone. But, strangely enough, I didn’t really have any desire to watch John and Marlena slobber all over each other. So I went to a movie.” “What movie?”

“Titanic,” she replied, grinning slightly. “At the dollar theater. Want to know what happened? The ship sank.”
“Very amusing,” Vivian said, rolling her eyes at Ivan.
Kristen got up from the couch. “Well, now that you’re done grilling me and ransacking my house, I guess you’ll be leaving.”
Vivian raised an eyebrow. “In a hurry to get rid of us, Kristen? Well, we’re not ready to go just yet. After all, we haven’t checked the wine cellar yet.”
“Oh, for God’s sake-”
Vivian ignored her. “Come on, Ivan.” They left the room.
Kristen bit her lip, hesitated for a moment, then followed them out the
doorway.
***
John swallowed another mouthful of bad squad room coffee, grimacing a thank you at Bo, who watched him with wary, concerned eyes.
“Are you okay, man?” It was a manifestly stupid question, but John took it in the spirit intended.
“Scared down to my toes, Bo. But I’m handling it.”
Bo clapped him on the shoulder. “I’m going to do everything I can to help you out, I promise.”
“Thanks, Bo.” He set the styrofoam cup down on Bo’s desk and glanced toward the commander’s office door, behind which were closeted the FBI agents. Roman had disappeared down the hall to make a phone call. “I’m all right. Why don’t you go on in and introduce yourself? I’ll wait here for Carrie.”

Bo nodded, understanding his need for even a temporary bit of solitude. He opened the office door and slipped inside.

Moments later, Carrie and Austin appeared in the squad room, Brady in her arms, guards trailing behind them.
“Daddy!” Brady cried, squirming out of Carrie’s embrace to run to his father.
“Hey, slugger,” John replied, hugging him fiercely. He suddenly found it difficult to speak and swallowed convulsively. “How’d you sleep, son?”
Brady just clung to his neck silently, and John looked to Carrie. She shrugged and shook her head.
“The FBI’s in Abe’s office,” John told them in a low voice, his hand rubbing Brady’s back in soothing circles. “They’re going to want to talk to both of you, but they want Carrie first, since she planned the party and knows who was invited, etcetera. But they want to talk to Brady now, so you might be here a while.” He hefted Brady in his arms. “Okay, slugger? We have some policemen here who need to ask you some questions.”
Brady studied him unblinkingly. “‘Bout Belle?” he asked softly.
John hugged him again. “Yeah, slugger. About Belle.” He leaned forward to kiss Carrie’s cheek. “Thanks, punkin.”
“Anytime, you know that,” she replied as he turned toward the office door. “Good luck.”
Agent Blakeley was studying a crude map of the layout of the Brady house drawn by Roman on the chalkboard, while Foster and Bo conferred in low tones over in the corner. They all looked up as John and Brady entered. Foster and Blakeley stepped forward, their gentle expressions at odds with what John had come to expect from their conduct so far.
“Hello, Brady. I’m Agent Blakeley and this is Agent Foster.”
“Hi,” Brady said softly, before ducking his head into his father’s neck. Foster pulled out a chair, and John sat down, settling Brady in his lap. Bo stepped over to ruffle his nephew’s hair. “Hey, little guy. How are you doing?”
Brady shrugged and leaned against John’s chest. Foster and Blakeley knelt down next to the chair, meeting Brady on his own level. “We know all of this can be kind of scary,” Foster told him, “but we want

you to know there’s nothing to be afraid of. Do you know why we want to talk to you?”

Brady nodded, then craned his neck to look up at his father. “Belle’s gone,” he said, grimacing.
“That’s right,” Blakeley agreed, reaching out to pat his hand. “How did you know that?”
Brady bit his lip and shrugged.
“Brady,” Foster said, his tone slightly more stern, “you have to tell us how you know that Belle’s gone.”
“Newslady said so,” Brady murmured finally. John closed his eyes and cursed softly under his breath.
Blakeley nodded. “That’s right. The news is scary sometimes, isn’t it?
But did you know that Belle was gone *before* the newslady said so?”
Brady stared at her.
John wrapped his arm around his son and bent his head to whisper in his ear. “Son. Just tell her the truth. It’ll be okay, I promise. Now, did you know that Belle was gone before the newslady said so?” Brady nodded.
Foster and Blakeley visibly held their breath. “Brady,” Blakeley asked in a hushed whisper, “did you *see* who took your sister last night? Do you know who did it?”
The door to the office opened, breaking the spell the agents had managed to weave between themselves and their small charge. Foster barely managed to stifle a vicious curse, acknowledging that he was at least partially responsible because he had not remembered to lock the door.
“What’s going on?” Roman asked as the four adults favored him with identical scowls. “Bo?”
“We’re talking to Brady,” Bo told him in a barely civil tone. “You knew we would be.”
“Well, why didn’t you wait for me?” He knelt down next to the chair and smiled at Brady. “Hello, Brady.”
Brady scooted back on his father’s lap and regarded Roman with wide eyes.
“Back off, Roman,” John growled.
“Hey-”
“*Excuse* me, Captain Brady. If you would just step over there, we’re

conducting this investigation.” Blakeley’s tone was calm and soothing, designed to reassure Brady, but the anger in her eyes was clear to everyone.

Roman held up his hands and backed toward the desk. Blakeley and Foster knelt down again, but Brady refused to look at them. He clung to his father’s chest, burying his face in John’s shirt. John rubbed his son’s back. “Slugger, it’s all right. You need to answer the questions. It’s important, son.” Brady squeezed tighter. “Do it for Belle, okay?” John whispered softly, hating himself for saying the words, even as he uttered them.
Slowly, Brady turned his head to look at Agent Foster. Tears streaked his cheeks.
“You’re a very brave little boy,” Foster told him. “And I know how much
you love your sister. Please, tell us…do you know who took Belle?”
Brady nodded.
“Can you tell us?”
Another nod.
“Who took your sister, Brady?”
Brady pushed away from John’s chest and looked up at his father, who kissed him on the forehead. “It’s all right, son,” he murmured. “Just tell the truth.”
Brady nodded. He turned his head to John’s other side, where Bo and Roman stood side by side, listening raptly.
Brady blinked at them, then raised his hand and pointed. “Him.”