Friday
It amazed Marlena that she'd gotten any sleep at all last night. At first she'd lain there all tense, replaying everything John told her about his captivity. Rage boiled in her that he'd been subjected to such inhumanity. Especially since she had no doubt it had happened before. She wished she (and some really sharp surgical instruments) could have fifteen minutes with that Raffaelle monster.
She also thought repeatedly about John's belief that his memory block could not be broken through. She prayed earnestly and at length that he would be proven wrong. The early part of their evening had been easy and warm. They had both shared openly about their families. Marlena felt increasingly guilty about keeping things from John. She could not argue with his declaration the day before that he had a right to know. He unquestionably did have that right. Was she, in fact, being selfish by making him go through hypnosis when the chances of a breakthrough were minimal? Should she just skip the hypnosis and tell him the whole truth? Or, should she try something even more dramatic and persuade him to come back to Salem with her so he could see what he needed to see for himself? Maybe the shock of what he'd find there would shake that memory block loose!
Honestly, she knew part of the problem was she didn't have the same kind of doctor/patient relationship with John that she did with Panny Green, Joe Catenacci, or her patients at home. She could be fairly objective about them. But, with John, she had interests too. And someplace in the back of her mind, she feared that when he knew the whole truth he might welcome others into his heart but reject her. And that would be unthinkable.
If Roman were still alive, she wondered, would she feel that way? She'd still be married to Roman. She knew she would have stayed married to Roman even if John had reappeared.
Was her widowhood making her cling unreasonably to John? Was she making things more awkward, more difficult for him? Had she made a colossal mistake when she'd declared her love for him? Did he perceive that as pity from her due to hearing of his brainwashing and torture?
All these questions and many others ate at her. But perhaps even her brain finally needed a rest, and she'd managed to sleep several hours.
Today was Friday, October 11, 2019. Her watch read 4:27 p.m. She would soon be meeting the AIAF director and then hypnotizing John. She was going to do it. She had to see whether it could tap into something.
John's SUV idled outside at the loading zone when she emerged. She agilely seated herself before he could get out and open the door for her.
"Hello," she said.
"Hey." John smiled at her, and they were off.
"Has he arrived?"
"Yup. He's at my place. When we get there, I'll introduce you, and then he wants to talk to you in private a little, so I'll make myself scarce until he texts me."
"That's not fair. It's your house. We should be the ones to go somewhere else to talk."
He waved his hand. "It's not a problem."
When John parked, and they approached his front door, Marlena felt the butterflies of unease and nervousness. In a way, she wanted to impress this mysterious director. But, simultaneously, she also wanted to challenge him.
As they entered, Marlena saw a man about 5' 10" and 200 lbs. in casual clothes; gray overtaking the sparse, once black, hair; a neatly trimmed, close beard also graying; a face that was otherwise very forgettable. The man came close, and John said, "Doctor Marlena Evans, this is David Smith. David, Marlena Evans."
Even as she automatically reached out to shake his cool, firm hand, Marlena couldn't suppress a faint smirk. "Not your real name, Mr. Smith?"
Smith smiled congenially. "It's for your protection, Doctor Evans." He looked at John, "Sorry, my friend, to kick you out for a little while."
"No worries." And with a reassuring nod to Marlena, John blew out the door again.
Marlena really wished John hadn't abandoned her. She just wasn't sure how to approach this man, or, for that matter, what he wanted to talk about in private.
"Shall we sit?" Smith asked her. When she seated herself on the black couch, he occupied the armchair. "Please call me David," he invited. "I'm sorry if this all seems unnecessarily cloak and dagger to you. But in the business we're in, one can't be too careful."
Thinking it better to be amenable than confrontational, she replied graciously, "Please call me Marlena. I do understand a need for caution, David."
"Good. I hope you won't take offense, but I have looked into your background, so I know you are a very respected psychiatrist, and I know you have treated patients with amnesia, using, sometimes, hypnosis. Don't worry. I didn't snoop into the confidential particulars of your patients."
"Alright," she said guardedly, "So you know I'm not a quack, and perhaps I might be able to assist John."
David smiled. "I think I know you want to. Uh, John told me a few things you told him. For instance, that he went by the name 'John Black' while in Salem. Once I knew just those two facts, I could find out quite a bit about what happened back then. As I think you told him, he was a prominent citizen of Salem. I think you know too that John could have done, even on his own laptop, pretty much the same search I did. He doesn't have to rely on you to learn about his life back then. At least - for some of it. I'm sure you could fill him in on many details that don't appear in news articles, driver's licenses, or other public records."
Marlena regarded the director coolly. "I beg your pardon. Are you trying to warn me off?"
David quickly shook his head, "No -"
"Because, believe me, you won't. And since you brought up the subject of searching John's Salem identity, here's a question for you. You're the current director of an elite, super secret counterintelligence agency. John mentioned someone with an alias, 'Lou Whistler," being his boss in earlier years, but I'm guessing you're a different person. You seem to be in your mid-fifties…"
David interrupted mildly, "I'm sorry. I'm not hearing a question."
Marlena sat forward a little, "Why, when John escaped his syndicate tormentors in 2002 and made himself known to the AIAF again, didn't your organization scour every avenue possible to find out what had happened to John during the sixteen-seventeen years you thought he was dead?" As she formed this long question, she gradually got more emotional and her voice increased in volume.
Before the director could answer, she hurried on, "For instance, facial recognition. You just said that you could access his driver's licenses from that time period. His photo obviously adorns them! If the AIAF - or for that matter, the ISA, CIA, FBI, what have you - had done that back in 2002, putting together his identity as John Black should have been doable!"
"And as Roman Brady too." David deadpanned.
Marlena drew in a sharp breath. She had to be calm. She could not lose her head. "Yes. That identity too."
David Smith did not avoid her eyes. She decided he was always calculating, always measuring others and rationing out his responses - if he gave any.
He got up and said, as he went into the kitchen. "I need something to drink. What would you like?"
Marlena wanted to snap back, "Nothing. I just want an honest answer to my question, and I don't appreciate your deflection." Again, restraining her first inclination, she followed him into the kitchen and quietly said, "Yes, I could use some water."
They both drank, leaving some liquid in their respective glasses. Standing there, David said, "As you pointed out, I wasn't in charge back in 2002. Lou's been retired for about ten years now. There was another director between him and me, but he didn't like being tied to a desk, and chose to go back into field work after five years. I think you can guess who that was."
Marlena was both surprised and yet not, by that revelation.
"But yes, in 2002, Lou Whistler ran the AIAF. I was in another agency at the time, so I can't speak at all to why Lou did or didn't do things. I never worked for Lou, and I've only met him once or twice. I have no idea if he ever ran facial recognition in 2002. It's certainly not in John's file, if he did. John himself - who has gone by many names during his AIAF clandestine service, as we all have - could have authorized such a search. It doesn't seem he did, does it? When you met him the other day, he didn't have any knowledge of that approximately sixteen years, did he? And that time span doesn't just include his life in Salem. As you know, nine of those years he spent elsewhere."
Marlena stared at him, trying to see if he was testing her. She decided to be upfront. "I know where he was during that period."
David gave a noncommittal swipe of his head. "Okay. You're one up on me there." He didn't push for an answer. Instead he took a few more swallows of his water.
Marlena decided to be honest again. "It frustrates me no end that a supposedly elite intelligence organization didn't extend itself to find out about the missing years of one of its senior operatives!"
David accepted her frustrated exclamation without rancor. "I understand. I guess I could try to find out from Lou. It's possible though that John already did that, so perhaps when the time is right, you might ask him about it."
He folded his arms and continued, "Look, I know you are personally involved in all this. So, from my point of view, you aren't the ideal person to hypnotize John. No matter how much you try, you aren't going to be able to be truly objective."
Marlena, of course, had wrestled with that very fact herself last night. But she countered, "I won't deny there can be downsides to my conducting the hypnosis. However, I've done this before with John, and, as I told him yesterday, there might be an advantage in my knowing some of what went on in that timeframe he doesn't remember. Maybe I can steer him - within proper limits - so that his mind will give up some of those locked memories."
David took both now-empty glasses, went to the sink, rinsed them, and put them into the dishwasher. Then he turned toward her again, his hands resting on the counter on either side of him. "John isn't just my colleague. He brought me into the AIAF and mentored me to take his place as director. But he's also a dear friend. I know he told you he's retired because of the grave injuries he sustained when he finally was able to corner one of our top and most dangerous fugitives.
"What I'm sure he didn't mention was that he saved the lives of three young agents (two AIAF and one DIA). They had stumbled upon this villain and four other desperate fugitives ahead of John. The terrorists (that's what they were) were about to execute our operatives. John neutralized four of them, but the main terrorist took off into the wilderness. The three agents were manacled and shackled and could not free themselves immediately to follow. John caught up with the terrorist, and they had a Herculean struggle. Unfortunately, they too closely imitated Sherlock Holmes and Moriarty at Reichenbach Falls.
"The point is, John acted heroically. And not for the first time in the line of duty. He will never receive any public recognition for his dedication to hunting down and arresting mega villains, but there are plenty of people walking around today who owe their lives to him and who would gladly repay their debt of gratitude to him. I'm one. I wouldn't be here now if he hadn't had my back. I want to help him remember. I want you to help him remember. Let's be on the same side."
Marlena had tears in her eyes again. She was impatient with herself for being so emotional, but how could she not be when she heard testimonies like David's. She gave him a small smile. "Thank you for telling me that, David. Yes, let's both help him." She held out her hand again. "Deal!"
David and she shook, and he echoed, "Deal." He produced his phone and with lightning thumbs texted John.
A few minutes later, the front door opened, and John stuck his head in. "All clear? I see the place is still standing," he joked.
They both grinned a little self-consciously.
Marlena glanced at David and then said to John, "We're ready if you are."
"Ookkayy. I guess I am too."
Marlena asked John to sit in the softer chair in the living room because it had arms and the hard desk chair didn't. When he asked why she explained, "Occasionally people tip over when they're under, and the arms will keep you from falling out of the chair."
"Over when they're under, stay in instead of falling out, got it," John said, but good-naturedly. This time Marlena sat in the desk chair fairly close in front of him. She politely relegated David to one of the kitchen chairs, and he was asked to sit far behind John. He could still hear everything but he wasn't in the immediate vicinity.
Once everyone was comfortable, Marlena began, "We can try the old stand-by in which you count back slowly from 100 and as you do that you relax your body...or we can try the 'metronome' method first which works more quickly with some people."
"Okay, let's try the metronome," John requested.
Marlena fished her phone out of her purse and pulled up the app she'd acquired for that purpose. She adjusted the sound level and the speed of the 'click' 'click' 'click' of the timekeeper. A graphic of a metronome actually appeared on the screen too with the arm moving rhythmically back and forth. She held it out in front of her at a good height for his eyes and said, "All right, just relax and follow the pendulum back and forth with your eyes. Let it lull you. Let your mind go blank as you do that. Don't worry about anything. Don't think about anything." She gave all these instructions in a lulling voice that kept time with the pendulum. She continued to speak quietly about relaxing his arms, his legs, etc. "Keep watching the pendulum, John. Your eyes are relaxing too now. They feel heavy. They are closing, but you aren't asleep. Close your eyes. Listen to the sound of the pendulum."
Marlena had been able to hypnotize him years ago. She felt confident she could do so again, although she wasn't certain because there had been instances where her subjects just wouldn't cooperate.
After a time, Marlena turned the sound of the metronome down. "Can you hear me, John? Nod if you do." He nodded.
Marlena believed they were ready. She had thought out in advance how she planned to conduct this. "John, I want you to stay relaxed and let your mind move freely for a bit. Your mind is no longer blank, but remembering your childhood. Only good memories of being a little boy are coming to you. And it isn't just a memory now, John. You are there. You are feeling it, seeing it. Smelling it. Hearing it." She noticed his face relaxed even more and a trace of a smile came, then a bigger one. "Where are you, John, and what's going on?"
"We're in my room. I'm in bed. Mommy is reading me my favorite book about CURIOUS GEORGE. Daddy just came in and he's behind Mommy making silly Curious George monkey faces at me, and I'm giggling instead of falling asleep." John laughed out loud.
"That's wonderful, John. Okay, now we're going to move forward in your life. You're in high school. Think of a really great memory and put yourself in it."
After a pause, John said, "I'm with my best friend, Dan McCray. We're in the locker room looking at the just posted names of who made the varsity baseball team this season." He broke into a wide grin. "We both did!"
Marlena enthusiastically cheered that. Somehow, she'd known baseball would be involved. "Okay, you're doing great, John. Now, move forward in time again. Think of when you learned how to fly. Remember something happy about that."
John frowned. Marlena thought maybe she'd thrown a wrench into the "happy" theme. Maybe flying instruction had been really stressful 100% of the time. She thought about changing course and asking him to think of something else, but just as she opened her mouth to speak, John's face cleared and he chuckled.
"What is it?" she prompted.
"I'm in the cockpit of the Beechcraft C-12 Huron. I'm nervous as hell because I'd only done simulations and studied theory up to this point. I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sick. I'm looking around wildly for an air sickness bag. I'm getting desperate. I don't want to puke on the instruments. I unbuckle my harness, flee the plane, and am sick on the tarmac toward the back of the aircraft. My instructor comes up behind me, looks at the mess on the ground and says casually, "Here's your trouble, Darrow. You ate that creamed chicken shit for lunch. Never, ever shovel that down before a flight. Then he claps me on the back and says, 'Come on. You'll be fine now.' " John laughed again, clearly getting a charge out of that recollection. Behind him, Marlena can see David preventing himself from laughing audibly too.
"So you don't have nerves flying anymore then?"
"Nope. Never again."
Marlena smiled too. "Glad to hear it, John. You picked a perfect memory. Now, I want you to move ahead again. Are you doing all right? You feel okay?"
"Yes," he said.
"Good. Now, go to your Salem years and pick a happy time there." She held her breath.
John looked blank. "Salem?" he asked.
"Yes, John, you remember. You came to Salem in December 1985. You stayed for seven years. Relax and let your mind take you there, okay?" She waited. She could see his eyes moving with rapid eye movement, his body becoming rigid.
Again, Marlena spoke comfortingly, "Don't try to force anything, John. Relax and let the memories come. This isn't a contest. If nothing comes, that's fine. But relax, and maybe you'll get something. I'm going to help you a little, okay?
"Okay", he said, but he still looked tense, although the rapid eye movement had stopped (which Marlena wasn't sure was a good thing). "Okay," she repeated, "John here is a 'great' memory. You and I just went on our first date, and now we're on the pier, and we're talking about the date. It's kind of cold so we're wearing jackets, and there's a brisk breeze off the river. What's funny is that you keep saying everything we did and ate was great. And you are throwing little bits of something you picked up into the river as you talk." She waited again.
"Salem?" John said, as if he hadn't heard anything she'd just related.
"Yes, Salem, Illinois."
"I knew you there?" he asked.
"Yes, John, you did," she said more emphatically than she probably should have.
"I've been to lots of places. What's it look like?"
"It's by a river. It has a town square, a university, hospital, police -"
"Fish….'My pop sells fresh fish!' "
Marlena was stunned
John started to get agitated. "No, my dad didn't own a fish mar - he was a sheriff!"
Marlena reached out and put her hand on his knee. "John. It's okay. You're okay. I'll explain that to you later. But let the fish market go and let your mind find something else, something happy, in Salem. Here are some other people you knew in Salem:" She began to name them slowly, looking for any reaction when she said each one, "Bo, Hope, Abe, Carrie, Sami also known as Samantha, Eric, Isabella also known as Izzy, Roman, Shawn, Caroline, Victor, Alice…"
"Roman? Roman Brady." John rolled that name over several times in a whisper. Then he sat up taller in his chair. "My name was Roman Brady! My pop owned a fish market! And I was married to you, Marlena Evans Brady!"
But this revelation caused no smile or laugh from him. Upset, he shifted agitatedly.
David stood, and when he caught her eye, he frowned and drew a finger across his throat.
Marlena also knew the time had come to stop. Gathering her own wits, she spoke soothingly to John. "John, it's okay. You're not in Salem. You're in Palo Alto in 2019. When I count to three, you will be fully awake. You will remember everything, but you will be calm and collected. One. Two. Three."
John opened his eyes. He looked around his apartment, and then at her. Also at David who had now come to stand where John could see him. John slowly got up. "I, uh, guess that didn't go quite the way you'd hoped," he said lamely to Marlena.
She couldn't help giving a weak snort. "No, not quite. But you did remember something about Salem, John. That's progress. Really."
David concurred, "I've got to admit I didn't think you'd remember anything at all. But you did. Good work!"
"Good work? I don't understand what just happened." He looked hard at the AIAF director. "Dave, you seem far less surprised and confused than I am. How come? Do you know something about my life in Salem?"
Chagrined, David admitted, "Before I came I did a little research. I found out a few things you don't know yet."
"Oh, really? So you two, already far ahead of ignorant me, just sat back to see the show, huh?" John stared at them belligerently.
"No, John, that's not how it is!" Marlena told him hotly.
"Seems that way to me!" John again directed his attention to David and said somewhat distantly. "You said this morning when you arrived that you were on a strict schedule. I thank you for coming. I don't want to take any more of your time. You'll still make your original flight back if you leave now."
"John, listen. I'm sorry. I could have handled that better. That's on me. But come on, you knew I'd do my homework." David didn't say the obvious, "You could have done yours, too." He just tried to smooth the waters, "I want to help you with whatever you need. Anything I can do, I will."
John still looked stubbornly irritated.
Marlena and David said their farewells, and John went down to David's rental car with him. From the window, Marlena watched them talking. Before David got into the car, John and he clapped each other on the back. Marlena felt relief; she thought they had probably parted on good terms.
It passed through her mind as she watched them that she could have escaped with David. She could have asked him to drive her back to the hotel on his way to the airport. But her conscience knew better. The director had a schedule to keep, and his time had been limited from the start. She didn't have any reason for running out on John. She needed to stay and face this head on. She sat down in the chair John had vacated and waited.
Part of her felt so disappointed. If only her plan had carried through. John had been able to clearly remember happy scenes from his earlier life. That had filled her with optimism when they got to Salem. She knew her ego - which shouldn't be part of this hypnosis equation at all - had been bruised by John's inability to remember even one of their happy moments.
It wasn't just her ego. It was her hope in the rekindling of their love. Imagine! Fish! Fish was what had hooked John into Salem. His remembering that fish market quotation was stunning though. As was his subsequent hooking into the Roman Brady name and their marriage - there at least he had linked to her. But, honestly, it bothered Marlena that he seemed to think of her first through the Roman Brady tie-in. How much more would she have loved it if he had remembered their first handshake after he'd saved her from those hoodlums, or the memory she'd primed - the one at the pier when he'd said great so often. Apparently, those were not as important as fish!
She knew she was being too sensitive, and too focused on herself. She should be thanking God that John had remembered anything at all. Hearing him on the outside stairs, she stopped moping and turned to the door expectantly.
As John closed the door after him, he eyed her. "Thought you might have wanted to hitch a ride with Dave."
She tossed her head and conceded, "It crossed my mind."
"Yeah." He rubbed his hands on his jeans (he was wearing a narrow striped, long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans today). He worked his jaw, which she recognized again as a nervous habit. "Before, I was okay with you and Dave having a private pow-wow without me. But, now, I'm not so okay with it. I can't force you to tell me, and, if it was really confidential, then you shouldn't say anything, but otherwise, I'd like to know."
"That's because you discovered that both of us know more about your missing years than you do, correct?" she asked.
"That about covers it."
"Well, about me, you already knew I knew. And doesn't it make sense that David would do some digging once you told him about our meeting?" Marlena offered him a curious look. "By the way, John, you could have done that too. You could have called in favors and asked for help in finding out about those years, couldn't you? And not just now?"
Marlena paused, but before John could get a word in, she said, "One of the things David and I discussed was a question I had. I asked him why the AIAF director didn't do a facial recognition search when you turned up in 2002 and said you couldn't remember about sixteen years of your life? David said he didn't know why Lou Whistler didn't do that. Do you know why?"
John sat/leaned on the back of the couch and stared at her for a bit. "That's a good question. I don't know why he didn't." He seemed to be pondering. "When I escaped in 2002 from the island where I'd been a prisoner, the only place I knew to go was to the AIAF. It took several years before I really felt I could put that terrible experience behind me. So, I admit I didn't want to do any poking around in my past. I feared all I would find in those years was more torture. Or, worse, that I'd discover I'd caved again and worked for that demonic group all those missing years. I knew they had broken me before; I was very fortunate to get away in 2002. But I did remember before 1986 and what I'd been through then. I couldn't bear to find out I'd been an assassin, a sex trafficker, a drug trafficker. I thought maybe my memory block was my mind's way of protecting me from such a horror. So, I didn't pursue any kind of investigation into my missing years." He sighed. "That was a failing on my part. A weakness."
"John, no, it wasn't a weakness or a failing. It was a perfectly natural response to the horrors you'd been subjected to." She didn't have the same opinion about Lou Whistler though. "I totally understand now why you didn't pursue it in 2002. But, honestly, I still wonder why your director didn't. Or...do you think he could have and just not told you? David said you were a truly extraordinary operative, a hero many times over. Perhaps Whistler just didn't want to lose you. Maybe he thought you were too valuable to tell the truth to, knowing if he did, you would probably have left the AIAF."
"Would I have done that?" John raised his eyebrows at her. "Would I have left?" John stuffed his hands in his pockets, but then he changed his mind and pulled them out. He walked around the couch. He sat down on it, perching on the front edge of the cushion where it wasn't so soft. He was only a few feet from her. He gave her a piercing look.
"Marlena, I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer about some things -" he shrugged - "maybe about a lot of things. But I can do math. You told me about all those kids you had. One - your biological son - is a priest - it takes years to become a priest, and even longer to be a pastor. He has to be older than 30. 2019 minus 30 years is 1989. You told me you weren't in Salem from 1987 until 1991. So he must have been born before 1987. My obvious deduction is you were married to your second husband several years before you left Salem.
"And, by your own admission, you were married after you came back. Finally, you told me yourself that your husband died just last year - the man who fathered your twins.
"Also, you said that people looked for me in 1992-93 and 2001, and you mentioned Roman as being one of those people. He is the man you've been married to all this time.
"Now" - he held up his hand to stop her from breaking in - "Just a few minutes ago, I remembered saying 'My pop sells fresh fish.' And I said I was Roman Brady, and you were Mrs. Roman Brady. But that can't be right. I'm not Roman Brady. But you were Mrs. Roman Brady, weren't you?"
"My turn now?" she asked a little facetiously.
"Yes," he said seriously.
"Okay. I know you're really confused. And I am very aware I promised if you tried the hypnosis, and it didn't work, I would explain to you what I know. You've kept your part of the bargain. The psychiatrist in me wants to encourage you to do more hypnosis. You are a good subject, John. And, in a way, the hypnosis did work. We got a "hit" so to speak. So, perhaps at some point, you'll want to do more. But the woman part of me - the non-psychiatrist part too - knows I have to keep my part of the bargain.
"So I'm going to do my best to explain.
"In December of 1985 a man whose head was swathed in bandages was brought - I'm not sure by whom - to University Hospital in Salem. As a psychiatrist there, I was asked to talk to him because he wouldn't say a word to any of the doctors or nurses who tried to talk to him. I did that, but he said nothing to me either. Then he left the hospital without being released. In January 1986, I was accosted by some ruffians in a local restaurant/bar called SHENANIGANS. A man I thought I'd never met before took on the troublemakers and disarmed the one waving a gun at me. Tremendously grateful, I thanked him, and we shook hands."
Marlena said, "That was you."
John nodded. "Okay, yeah, I get that. I was also the guy you saw with all the bandages the month before?"
"Yes, and I'll get back to that.
"At the hospital, there was a rapist loose, and we also needed a new head of security. You, who gave your name as John Black, landed that security job after our chief, Tom Horton, put in a good word for you. Then you made a big contribution in catching the rapist."
Marlena suddenly lit up with a smile. "You also drove me crazy with a sign in/sign out sheet that you demanded hospital employees use. We had a few arguments about that."
"Seems like a good idea to me," John said.
"Of course! See, your older self agrees with your younger self." She shot him a bemused look.
"You also saved me from a mugger/carjacker in the parking lot. All these events followed in quick succession."
"That's what you referred to the other day when you said I saved you a couple times in the first few days, right?"
"Mm hmm. So, with all these things happening, and both of us at the hospital, I noticed more and more you shied away from talking about yourself. I also discovered you snuck into my office and used my computer to make some fake identity records for yourself. I confronted you about that and you apologized. You also needed an apartment, and I happened to know of a free one. It had belonged to Roman Brady, my husband. He'd lived there before we moved into our house."
"Wait just a minute! So, yes, you WERE already married to Roman Brady then?" He glared accusingly.
"Hold on, hold on. This is a very strange story. So don't get judgmental on me - at least not yet. Hear me out.
"I married Roman Brady in 1983. As I said earlier, he had a daughter from a previous marriage. Her name is Carrie. In October of 1984, I had the twins, Sami and Eric. In exactly five days, they will celebrate their 36th birthdays.
"Roman was a police officer. He was a lieutenant in 1984. He also worked at times for the ISA -"
"He did?"
"Yes. In November, 1984 he tracked down an arch organized crime head named Stefano DiMera..." Marlena paused a moment, searching to see if that name brought a glimmer of recognition from John. It did.
"DiMera? Stefano?" John's eyes darkened. "I know him alright. He was an evil man. He's dead now though."
"Yes, and I'll get back that also.
"Roman tracked down Stefano on a Caribbean island. But Stefano shot Roman, and he fell off a cliff into the sea. That's what we thought.
"So, I was a widow when we met, John."
"Oh. Sorry I jumped to conclusions."
"Back to the apartment. It was Roman's before we got married. We moved into a house, and the apartment was used by other Brady family members. But it happened to be available when you needed one. It's been a long time, so I'm not positive, but I think it was when I discovered that you had illicitly used my computer that I came to what was your apartment, and in the course of talking with you there, I realized that you didn't know who you were. You told me how you came by the name 'John Black,' and I did hypnotize you.
"You remembered a few things that ultimately led us to travel to West Virginia in a quest to find out your true history. We also had a number of people after us for various reasons, some nefarious and some fairly noble. Bo Brady, Roman's brother, and Hope, his girlfriend (later, wife) were after us because they thought you were Stefano DiMera."
"Me? They thought I was? Shhh. That's ridiculous. I don't look anything like Stefano DiMera."
"Well, that was part of the problem. At that time, Bo, Hope, I and others had never seen Stefano, or even seen photos of him. I think you had seen him - and from what you said a moment ago, that is correct -"
He nodded solemnly.
" - but back then your memory of that was erased, so you didn't know what he looked like either."
"Oh. That makes some sense then." John let out a long breath and his face clouded as he filled her in on his own bitter encounter with Stefano:
"One night in February 1985, while on an AIAF mission in Sarajevo, I'm ashamed to admit I got a little careless about my own security. When on missions I'm usually hyper-aware of my surroundings at all times. But I was tired, and there had been no threats at all. So I was out by myself. Suddenly there were five big wrestler types around me in the doorway of my lodgings. I got knocked out, and the next thing I knew I was securely trussed up, had a stifling sack over my head and, from the noises, thought I'd been dumped in a hold on a freighter to somewhere unknown.
"Days later we arrived at a place called Maison Blanche (I learned that later, not then) in New Orleans, and for months I rotted as a prisoner of the fiend Stefano DiMera - chained to the wall, half naked, locked in his cellar, with a CCTV camera on me constantly, barely fed, and drugged nearly constantly. A couple times, he had me dragged out of my prison and brought up to his library. They propped me up against the wall on the floor, chains on my wrists and ankles, and, while DiMera merrily played chess against himself, he talked to me. He told me what he had in store for me. But I was so drugged out of my mind that I can't remember what he said exactly."
John got a faraway look in his eyes. "That's what I was alluding to before. Another reason I think I didn't pursue an active investigation into where I'd been from the end of 1985 until 2001. Having that memory, I feared, as I said, that during those years I'd done terrible things."
"Oh, John, again, I'm so sorry for all the pain you've suffered. I wondered if you remembered now what happened to get you to Salem. Do you remember your face being bandaged?"
"Nope, No recollection of that. As they kept drugging me, I knew I was losing my memories of my life. But I was helpless to stop it."
Marlena nodded sadly.
"I interrupted your story, Marlena, Please go on. You were saying that Bo Brady and his girlfriend thought I was Stefano."
"Yes," Marlena fought for mental clarity to leave his story and re enter her own, "So, in West Virginia, you and I were in this farmhouse for a while. You were not happy that I was along, but I was. Anyway, you went into the bathroom to clean up, and the phone rang (landlines then). You came out without your shirt on but with a towel over your right shoulder. While you were talking, you pulled the towel off and I saw the tattoo on your shoulder blade. The phoenix! A sign of Stefano. You don't know how scared I was. I tried to run away, but you caught me. We ended up in the wilderness...spent a freezing and restless night out there. The next day we had to evade some of our persistent pursuers, and we ended up shooting the rapids in a big rubber raft. That was quite an adventure, especially for me," she laughed ruefully, "since, the truth is, I'm not big on the outdoors."
John had been listening raptly. He smiled at her last comment, "I'm sure you held your own on that raft. Wish I could remember that!"
But then he backtracked a little further. "So, you know about that damned tattoo."
"Yes, I do. I assume you still have it? Or did you have it removed?"
"It's still there. I did talk to a guy who specialized in removals once, but when he looked at it, he said it might be impossible to remove it completely because the ink was really deep into the shoulder, and if I tried, I might just end up with a weird sludgy smudge. So, I just left it. Most of the time, I don't even think about it since it's in a spot I can't easily see.
"What happened next?"
Marlena shot him a grin at that comment.
"What?" he asked.
"That reminds me of what the kids used to say incessantly when I read to them and paused for a bit." She giggled. "Sometimes I'd stop on purpose just to hear them chorus, 'What happened next?'
"Anyway, ultimately, Bo caught up to you and the two of you fought on a hill with a rocky cliff. You fell! But you were able to get a handhold a few feet from the top, keeping you from taking that full plunge. I rushed to Bo and ordered him to stop. That you weren't Stefano. That you were Roman! That Bo needed to pull you back up."
"What! Why did you say I was Roman? Just so he'd save me? And why would he even give that idea any credence? Maybe we all didn't know what Stefano looked like, but you all certainly knew what Roman Brady looked like!"
"Well, of course, I wanted you to be saved! I realized during our escapades that even if you were Stefano, I was in love with you. The first time we shook hands I knew it deep down, but it wasn't until our first time in West Virginia that I felt the full impact of it.
"Now, about why I said you were Roman: remember that you came to Salem with bandages on your entire head. It was through hypnotizing you that you got images of being operated on in the farmhouse. The one I mentioned we stayed in briefly. The doctor who allegedly performed the operation left a photo of what you supposedly looked like before the surgery. But the envelope with the photo didn't come into my possession until you and Bo were already fighting. I showed it to Bo, and he, believing the photo just as I had, ran and pulled you back up. You did not fall down a cliff that day.
"When you were back on solid ground, I showed the photo to you."
"And it was a photo of your husband, who you thought was dead. Roman?"
She nodded vigorously.
"Whoa, whoa, whoa. That's crackers." John got up and started pacing around, giving Marlena disbelieving glances.
Marlena went to him and stopped his stomping around. "John, no. I know it sounds crazy. But, let's face it. Salem is not what one would call normal. A lot of very unusual things happen there. This may be one of the most abnormal ever, but I assure you, it made sense at the time.
"The plastic surgeon claimed he had changed the face of my husband. But that wasn't the only reason I became convinced you were Roman - and I must confess that I was the one of the two of us who was first convinced. Under hypnosis, you had 'remembered' things that only Roman and I knew. And even without hypnosis, there were instances in which you'd have a 'Roman' memory.
"For example, Roman's apartment. When you first saw it, you said you felt a sense of deja vu. You also had these blippy images that seemed to randomly float up out of your subconscious."
"You're saying I had Roman's memories."
"Some of them, at least."
John shook his head. "I've never heard of such a memory transplant being done, and part of the time when I was in the AIAF I had access to early reports of scientific breakthroughs that could be pertinent to national security."
He asked abruptly, "Did Roman have some of my memories?"
"No," she said.
"He wasn't at Maison Blanche. I was the only one there in the cellar jail. Even though they drugged me so much, I'm pretty sure about that. If they'd wanted to do some kind of transfer, wouldn't both of us have needed to be in the same place?"
"John, how it was done is still a mystery to us. Roman did not suffer from memory loss. His memories were intact, and he only had his own.
"I know this is really difficult to absorb. I told you you probably wouldn't believe me. All I can say is that's what happened."
John rubbed the back of his neck. "So do you think that I was grabbed by Stefano DiMera because he deliberately intended that we all think I was Roman? That's what happened, right? Everyone ultimately became convinced I was Roman, and I stepped into his life, didn't I?
"Yes, that's what happened. And, yes, I think Stefano, with great patience and determination, plotted it all out. Stefano hated Roman because he so doggedly sought to end Stefano's criminal empire. He probably despised you, as an AIAF agent, for the same reason.
"He loved to play with real people as though they were just ivory chess pieces on his marble board. In fact, you - sorry about this - had been referred to as his 'Pawn' by a number of people.
"I'm sure he was ecstatic when I fell for his switch. Because, as I said, it was I who insisted you were Roman. You weren't really convinced for quite some time. When we arrived at 'our' house, and you first stepped into it, you were reluctant, and you seemed lost. Oh, you 'remembered' some things about the house, but if I had paid more attention, I'd have realized how alien you first felt. To make matters worse, Carrie - let's see she was ten, no, twelve - Carrie roundly rejected you. She insisted you were not her father. It took quite a while before you won her over - which you did, John.
"But, I want to make something crystal clear. We weren't just playing house because we thought we were married and because we had three children who needed parents. It was not some arranged, artificial thing. Stefano DiMera might have planned it that way, but that wasn't us.
"I told you, I felt something for you the first time I met you. Something eternal. Love. I wasn't alone. Many times during the 'marriage' we had you told me it was the same for you. And, as I said, I loved you unconditionally then too. Even when I thought you were Stefano, I loved you. I was in love with you. My unconditional love for you explains - to me at least - why I became convinced so easily you were Roman. When the clues pointed to you being him, how could that not be true when my feelings corroborated it? Strangely, if I'd slowed down and thought it through more with my head, I might have noticed one irregularity: I had loved Roman, but not with quite the same intensity.
"The first night that we spent together in the master bedroom, before we actually went to bed, you asked me, 'Do you feel as awkward as I do?' and I answered, 'I feel like a schoolgirl.' But making love with you was heavenly. We fit together so perfectly." She blushed and smiled at him a little shyly.
"I'm glad to hear that," he assured her. "Not to be crude, but wasn't there a difference in our lovemaking from what you were used to with Roman?"
"Yeah, there was a difference, John. And I'm sure some people who've heard this cockamamy story look down their noses at me and think 'what a fool she was; she couldn't even tell the difference between lovers.' But I don't care. Let them think what they want. Here's the way I look at it, I had a husband with whom making love was 'shining silver.' I was very happy with him. Then I lost that husband, but thought I'd found him again, and this time we graduated to 'purest gold.' Was I going to have a conversation with him and ask if we could return to silver? I think the answer is obvious."
While she explained her precious metals metaphor, John started smiling, and it grew as she prattled on.
Before he could reply, one of their stomachs let out a protracted growl. John laughed. "I'm hungry, but that was you." he said, pointing at her.
Marlena's already pink face got a shade redder. She peered at her watch. "8:30," she said out loud.
John put his arm around her and herded her toward the kitchen. "No pork chops, but I can offer you some clam chowder and a piece of the cherry pie we didn't eat yesterday. Will that do?"
"That sounds great."
Once they had sated their hunger, John asked, "Do you want to go back to your room now?"
"If you want to ask me some more questions, I'm willing. If you've had more than enough, then, yes, that would be fine too."
John ruminated. "Even in my wildest dreams, I could not imagine someone cooking up a plot as sick as DiMera did. Uh, Roman obviously wasn't dead. Where was he?"
"Stefano held Roman in yet another of his ubiquitous lairs until you and I found him in 1992."
"So, that's when the fact that I wasn't Roman was exposed."
Marlena's eyes hardened as she remembered that horribly confusing time. "It wasn't completely settled until we did a DNA test."
"So, one was never done earlier."
"No, we didn't think it was needed, and besides, then, DNA tests were not the routine method of identification that they have become."
John's eyebrows rose. "Didn't it seem obvious when you saw he looked like the Roman you married in 1983? He did, didn't he?"
She gave a harsh snort and said a little defensively, "John, you said you've had some nightmarish experiences with Stefano. Did you not know that he has resorted to fake 'doubles'?"
"Doubles?"
"Yes, doppelgangers. So, no, it wasn't as though I immediately thought that man was my husband."
"Oh, okay. I can't say I ever knew DiMera did that."
John's face softened. "I know I'm probing in sensitive areas. To me, it's just information because I don't have the emotional attachments. To you, it's your life. Sorry it's hurting you."
Marlena stood suddenly, pushing her chair back. She looked like a riled hen. "John! What hurts me the most is that you don't have those emotional attachments! Don't you get that?" She was so frustrated that he knew the details of most of his life now, but not the crucial years in Salem and a few after that. They were so important!
John looked up at her, his expression a mixture of surprise at her outburst and sorrow. "Okay," he said placatingly. "Yeah, I'm at a severe disadvantage not knowing. And I'm sorry that I haven't reciprocated the love that you have for me. Frankly, it overwhelms me when you say we were so in love. All the years I remember, I never experienced something like that. To think I had it, but lost it, is really something I'd rather not dwell on, at least not right now. Maybe that makes me a coward, but as I said earlier, and apparently it's true, the love we had could not be expressed anymore when the DNA tests proved I wasn't Roman, right? We were done."
Marlena resumed her seat and said sadly, "There were a lot of factors at play. When I came back to Salem after being kidnapped and held on yet another island by another madman, I wanted so badly to resume my life with you and the children. But those intervening years when I'd just been in stasis (or at least thought I was), you'd moved on with your life. You'd had to. You thought I was dead, and you had no reason to think otherwise.
"Remember I mentioned the name Isabella a couple times?"
"Yes."
"You and Isabella had become a couple. You weren't married yet, but you were planning on it. She was expecting your child."
John's eyes grew large. "What?"
"Yes, you'd given her an engagement ring."
"Oh my - and you came back just then?"
She nodded.
John was the one who got up this time. He started pacing as he tried to engage with this new shocker. "But I was married to you. Or, I should say, we thought I was."
Marlena nodded again.
"What a hell of a mess." John said heavily, not looking at her.
"It was. I'm sure Stefano preened with infinite pride, wallowing in the turmoil he initiated for all of us." Marlena agreed.
She got up, went to him, and turned his face to her by holding his chin in her hand. "You really loved Isabella, John. But you loved me too. As I've been saying, we shared a truly great love. And I'm convinced that if you'd been Roman, we would have worked it out, and you would have chosen to stay in our marriage. Maybe that sounds selfish. Maybe I was callous toward Isabella. I can't even say with absolute certainty that was your thinking because we didn't get around to a time when you could tell me exactly what you'd decided before we found the other Roman, the original one.
She could see him putting the pieces together. His eyes stayed on her this time, and he said softly. "I'm sorry I put you through that uncertainty."
"John, you don't have to be sorry. Not for anything, believe me. You were a good, honorable, brave, and loving man forced into a heartrending dilemma.
"And talking to David today, I got more confirmation that you've been exactly that kind of man these last twenty-seven years too. He told me you saved three agents before you and the bastard you were chasing went over the cliff. He also told me, you were the director of AIAF for five years. You've been doing terribly important work. You've served your country all your life, John.
"When you "became" Roman Brady in 1986, you took up where the other Roman left off in the police force. You quickly received a promotion to captain, and then while I was gone, you gained the rank of commander. That was you, John, not the other Roman. That was your hard work and dedication to law enforcement. And at the same time, you raised Carrie and the much younger Sami and Eric - you called them 'the twinners.' No one could have asked more from you. You gave and gave and gave."
He smiled at her, still allowing her to hold his jaw. "Thank you for saying all that. I really appreciate hearing it. But I get the feeling I did hurt you when you came back. I should have been more reassuring and not left you dangling. And I guess I left the other woman, Isabella, dangling too. That's not a very manly thing to do."
Marlena dropped her hand. "Honey, not many people have to deal with a spouse who comes back from the dead years later and at a very inopportune time. But as I said, Salem is a magnet for such unbelievable and normally rare situations." It was only after she'd finished this comment that she realized she'd called him, "Honey." She cringed inside. She should not take such liberties. It could be interpreted as pressure on him to accept an intimacy between them that he didn't feel right now.
But John didn't appear to take any offense or feel manipulated. His blue eyes held her own lively hazel orbs as he asked, "Am I right that when Roman was found and the DNA tests were done, there was no legal tie between us - you and me?"
Lowering her eyes, Marlena gave one nod. "That's true. You and I went through a marriage renewal after I recovered from that coma I told you about. That was on August 22, 1986. It was quite an elaborate renewal and all our friends were there. There are pictures, but I don't have any on my ipad. We said vows as Roman Brady and Marlena Brady, even though the names weren't important. We said our vows to each other's souls and those vows have always remained in my heart. I believe they reside deep in yours too, and perhaps you will be able to feel that again, God willing."
She continued, "But, legally, none of that mattered."
He continued to search her face, "I'm surmising then that I married Isabella."
"You did. You and she became Mr. and Mrs. John Black. And it was the right thing." Seeing his expectation that she not stop there, Marlena said firmly, "Isabella - or Izzy, as you affectionately called her - helped you through the darkness of losing practically everything you loved -"
"The three children I'd thought were mine, and you."
Sadly Marlena said, "Exactly. Plus the job you loved. Plus the Brady family. Shawn and Caroline Brady were Roman's parents, and he had sisters and brother Bo. For a while, people in Salem, including most of them, were not sure they could trust you. They didn't know if you had been in on the plot to 'replace' Roman. In time, they realized their mistake, but by then you were no longer in Salem.
"And about the police force: You were considered an interloper and a "Pawn" of Stefano's. Roman - the other one - went back on the force as a captain, later a commander too, but you were forced out."
John must have been the look of shame on Marlena's face. "Hey", he exclaimed, now touching her cheek for a moment, "you didn't bounce me off the force. You don't have anything to feel remorse over."
"I wish that were true. I've always regretted that I didn't stand up for you more than I did. Because of Roman, who had his own need for healing after those many years away, I didn't do as much as I should have. I didn't stop them from making you a pariah for a while, and that was unforgivable."
John made a "don't worry about it" motion with both hands. "Please forgive yourself. Life is too short not to. I'm sure you did your best.
"Isabella was pregnant. Did she have the baby or did my indecision cause her so much stress that she lost it?"
"Oh, no, she didn't lose the baby. She gave birth in May of 1992," - Marlena chuckled - "Right after your marriage ceremony. She gave you a son whom you named Brady Victor Black."
She saw the rocked look in John. She smiled supportively, "You're a father, John."
John seemed to struggle to say something coherent, but finally settled on, "We named the boy after the Bradys?"
"You did."
"So where are Isabella and Brady?" Before she could answer, a haunted look took over his face. John said, "You mean I left her and the baby behind in December of '92?"
Marlena took his hand and pulled him down on his living room couch so they sat there together. "John, Isabella was diagnosed with cancer - very fast-moving pancreatic cancer - after you were married. She wanted to spend what time she had left in Italy, where she'd been born, and the three of you moved there. You were by her side until she passed away peacefully in October of '92.
"She died?" he said slowly. Marlena could only nod, because the memory of it made her throat tight.
John made a motion with his hand in front of his face. A motion of futility. "Not once in the last quarter of a century have I ever thought of her or my son. Just as I haven't thought of you." He buried his head in his hands.
Marlena rubbed his shoulder in commiseration. She idly realized her hand was passing over the spot where the phoenix image had been tattooed by some employee or slave of Stefano's.
It took a while before John raised his head. "What about my son?"
"After Isabella died, you and Brady came back to Salem. You still didn't know your true identity - which is why, of course, you had reverted to the name John Black. But despite everything, Salem was really the only home you knew. You had a loft, and you took some security consulting jobs to pay the bills. You were a devoted single father, and you mourned and missed Isabella a great deal."
"I can't have been that great a father. I haven't seen him since he was seven months old!" John added, with fear in his voice, "He didn't die too, did he?"
"No, no. He's alive and well."
John dripped disgust in his voice - at himself. "You know more about my son than I do. Man, that kid must hate me."
"John -"
Marlena saw a change in his demeanor. He angled away from her hand on his shoulder and asked with more steel in his voice, "Did you and I have contact when I returned from Italy?"
Knowing she should not get perturbed, Marlena replied calmly, "You had contact with both me and Roman. By then, all three of us had all least partially reconciled ourselves to who was who."
"So that worked for you and me?" he asked, suspicion edging his voice. "We didn't have any problem just being friends?"
"When you came back with little Brady, my heart went out to you. The anchor that Isabella had become for you had slipped away. You were lost. You were a man in desperate need of a true friend, and I felt the pull to be that friend. For a time, that was enough for both of us. I helped you with Brady, I listened when you needed to talk."
"But it didn't stay in the friendship column, did it?"
Marlena drew herself up. "Technically, it did. You and I never crossed the line physically. But both of us struggled with temptation, And both of us felt the emotional ties we had before again come to the surface. We had never really resolved our feelings after I came back. It was all still a jumble in the back of our psyches. So, yes, our seeing each other, even though we didn't fall into bed, was us playing with fire."
John got up abruptly and again stomped around the room. "Did I leave Salem to prevent an affair, Marlena? Why didn't I take my boy with me?"
"John, when you left on December 28, 1992, you left Brady with Shawn and Caroline (who loved him as a grandson and doted on him). You also left a note saying that you had an emergency and you would be back before New Year's Eve.
"What was the emergency?"
"You didn't say, and we had no idea."
"I didn't tell you?"
"No you didn't. I will admit you had said privately to me just after Christmas that you thought it would be better if you moved away from Salem. But, of course, you meant - and, in fact, you said - you and Brady. And I'll admit I was shattered by the thought that you'd do that, and I wouldn't see you anymore. And wouldn't see Brady grow up; I became incredibly attached to the little guy very fast. Although I shouldn't have, I begged you to stay. I remember exactly what you said, 'I can't be near you and not touch you. My wife died, but you've got a husband, and there's no room for a third wheel. I love you, and that means I've gotta go.'
"As I said, you didn't say when you and Brady were going. But I knew with certainty that wherever you'd gone on December 28, you'd be back. I thought maybe you'd gone to scout out a place to live. But that wasn't really an emergency, so I wasn't sure about that. I just knew I'd see you at least one more time because you'd be back for Brady, and I hung onto that for dear life."
"But I didn't come back."
"No. And as I said, we searched for you, but found no trace of you anywhere."
"So I did leave my son behind. Who raised him? Shawn and Caroline Brady?"
"No, John. Roman and I did."
"You two did?"
"Yes. After you'd been missing for a while, Mickey Horton, a friend and a family lawyer, informed me you had left an instruction that if anything happened to you and you were not able to raise Brady, you wanted me to be his legal guardian. I talked it over with Roman, and he immediately agreed that your wishes should be respected. Brady became part of our family."
John frowned. "Roman raised my son. Pshaw. I guess that's not unfair. I raised his three for six years.
"So Brady's the boy you adopted? He's the one who's still in Salem and works at a place called Titan?"
"He is. We didn't officially adopt him. We became his legal guardians, just as you asked. His last name is not Brady. It's Black. John, he's a very handsome young man. Tall, strong. He has darker hair than you, and he has your mouth, ears very similar to yours, and his temperament is very close to yours too."
Marlena found her purse and took out her ipad. She did some tapping and swiping. Then she came to him and stood next to him holding it. "There he is."
John pulled the ipad up a little higher and bent his head. "When was this taken? Oh, there's the date. Just a couple months ago."
Marlena looked at it with him. She could recall everything about that moment. Roman had died only about ten days before. She'd taken the picture of Brady herself on her phone. The location was out in the Titan building courtyard. It had been a very warm August day, so Brady had taken off his suit jacket and playfully hung it on the arm of the bronze statue he stood by. Marlena had come to a Titan employee awards luncheon because Brady had won Salem Employee of the Year. Before the luncheon began she'd talked to Victor Kiriakis, Chairman of Titan, and Brady's grandfather on Isabella's side. After it was over, she asked Brady to come outside with her so she could snap a photo of him with his shiny plaque. Holding it in his hands, Brady beamed. He'd worked a lot of overtime for that award, and he didn't mind Marlena making a little fuss over it.
As John took in all the details, Marlena related all that to him. John ran a few of his fingers delicately over the screen, not because he wanted to enlarge it, but because he just wanted to touch the image of his son.
Marlena saw his eyes soften and moisten. His Adam's apple worked up and down as he swallowed a few times. She heard him clear his throat.
"John, I'll send you this picture right now if you tell me where. Phone or email?"
"Hmm? Oh, gosh, Doc, sorry. I should have exchanged that information with you already."
Again, Marlena felt a jolt of emotion when he said, "Doc." But again, she knew it didn't come from the same place it always had so many years ago.
Within moments, they had made the exchange, and she sent Brady's photo to both. She made a mental note to send him the other two photos he'd seen two days ago.
Was it really just two days ago?
But suddenly, Marlena felt very tired. She looked at the digital time on her phone. 11:03. Wow. She'd been here since just after 4:30. She really did need to go.
John stood unmoving, still gazing at the photo of the son he hadn't seen since he was an infant.
Lightly touching his arm, Marlena whispered, "John."
"Oh. Yes." He looked at her
"It's late. I need to get back to the hotel."
John immediately reacted. He gave her back the ipad, saying, "Thank you so much for that," and then he reached into his jeans' pocket and pulled out his car keys. Grabbing his cane, which Marlena realized he had not used as much today, he asked if she had everything, and then they headed to his automobile.
Marlena knew John's thoughts were focused on the son he'd just learned he had. He didn't talk as he drove the mile and a half. But when they entered the hotel parking lot, Marlena asked him to pull into a parking space for a minute instead of the loading zone. Not that she expected anyone else to be loading or unloading at this time of night, but if he idled in a yellow zone, she'd be nervous. She needed to focus.
Having done what she asked, he turned off the engine and gave her an inquiring look.
"Tomorrow, as you know, is Saturday," she began. "I don't know if you have things you need to do. If you do, just say no. But I was wondering if you'd fly back to Salem with me. You could meet Brady. And there are others you really need to meet as well. I know getting a flight on short notice can be a challenge, and sometimes pricey, but if we could manage it...I have to finish my commitment to the V.A. Hospital here, so I'd have to catch a red-eye back in time to see my first patient on Monday morning, but if you wanted, you are welcome to stay at my townhouse, I'll be finished and back by next Friday afternoon. As I mentioned, I have three bedrooms, and I don't have any other visitors at the moment."
John had listened to all that without visible reaction. When she stopped speaking, he said, "On the way over here, I was thinking about suggesting something similar, although, honestly, I can't think of a reason in the world why Brady would want to see me -"
"He would!" Marlena broke in.
"I admire your positivity. I do have something to do tomorrow morning, and I don't want to miss it. There's a particular vet in the hospital, the psych ward in fact. Someone in Physical Therapy told me about him, and I promised I'd go and see him tomorrow at 9 am. I knew the guy when I was in the Army, and I'm told he's in really bad shape now. They may transfer him tomorrow. I can't let him go without at least one visit."
Something in Marlena's brain clicked. "You aren't referring to Joe Catenacci, are you?
"Yeah, that's his name. We called him 'The Cat' or, to his face, 'Kittens.'" John laughed. "That guy was so light on his feet, you never heard him coming, no matter how hard you strained."
"I've been consulting on his case. Would you mind if I went with you, tomorrow? Not that I want to intrude on your visit with him. But after you're done, I'd like to see him and see if there's any change. He's catatonic."
"I was told that. A real tragedy. Sure, come along," he agreed. "Now about Salem -"
"Excuse me for interrupting, but I just had another thought, and maybe this is a better one? I could talk to Dr. Chang, the Psychiatric Department head here, and see if I could take off next week, and then come back the following week and finish up. I think these are extraordinary enough circumstances to warrant that. Then we could leave as soon as we could snag a flight, and I wouldn't have to rush right back."
John smiled. "It's worth a try."
"Okay!" she said, "I'll see you at the hospital tomorrow morning." She quickly got out of his Jeep and walked briskly to the entry. Inside, she turned around to look and saw the Cherokee light up and then drive away.