Title: Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Author: Kimberly21570
Fandoms: Guiding Light / All My Children
Pairings: Olivia and Natalia / Lena and Bianca
Disclaimer: The characters of Olivia and Emma Spencer, Natalia and Rafe Rivera, Ava Peralta and her late son, Max Harlan Lewis, Josh Lewis, Frank Cooper, Doris Wolfe, Phillip Spaulding, Beth Raines, and Dr. Felicia Boudreau, are owned by CBS/TeleNext and Proctor & Gamble. The characters of Lena Kundera and Bianca Montgomery are owned by All My Children, ABC/Disney and Prospect Park. The character of Dr. Arizona Robbins is owned by Grey's Anatomy, ABC/Disney, and Shondaland Productions. The original characters of Jennifer Morgan, Tracy Jackson, Detective Sergeant Langston Malloy, Attorney Danika Kováč, Judge Bennett Thomas, Dantéa (Téa) Rivera, and Dr. Kaitlynn Mackenzie are the property of this author, and any resemblance to fictional characters, or real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
No copyright infringement intended with regard to Guiding Light, CBS/TeleNext, Proctor & Gamble, AMC, ABC/Disney, Grey's Anatomy, Shondaland Productions, or any other entity. With the exceptions of the Farmhouse of Love, Company, and Cedars Hospital, the settings, dialogue, and story content in these scenes are original. Written for fun, not profit. All other standard disclaimers apply.
Many thanks to my friend and favorite FFW, WickedWanda926, and to my friend newfan64, for their ongoing willingness to edit my stories. Words cannot express how much I appreciate the two of you and your steadfast support of me, both personally, and as a would-be writer. Due to the rush to get you all this update, however, this content has not been edited. Thus, any mistakes contained herein are solely my responsibility.
Thank you all for the birthday wishes, inquiries about updates, and concerns for my well-being, as well as your continued support with regard to this story. I appreciate the time you have invested in these characters and their stories, and truly hope you continue to enjoy.
Rating: Chapter 18 is rated PG-13 for coarse language.
Confessions Lead to Strange Bedfellows
Copyright May 2009
"For the greater the love, the greater the grief, and the stronger the faith, the more savagely will Satan storm its fortress."
C.S. Lewis, A Grief Observed
Chapter 18.9 – What Price We Pay:
Wednesday, September 30, 2009… Dr. Felicia Boudreau's Office, Cedars Hospital, Springfield—8:45 a.m. Central Daylight Time
"Let her go?" Olivia snapped. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? We buried our daughter months ago!" she exclaimed, barely able to contain her fury.
The inner rage she was feeling wasn't really directed toward Felicia. The gut-wrenching grief she'd felt as she watched them lower that tiny casket into the ground still clung to her like a straight-jacket, suffocating her. She didn't know how else to feel. Nor did she know who else to unleash those pent-up feelings on. "Isn't that enough for you?"
Having walked through the journey of grief with more patients than she could count over her years of practice, Felicia's heart broke for Olivia, and for her family. But as much as she knew it hurt, she also knew she needed to press on. Not that the grieving process was linear—it was more cyclical, if anything—but having gone through denial, bargaining, and depression, Olivia was now in the anger stage of her grief. Embracing that anger, painful as it was, could open the pathway to acceptance, and someday, hopefully, inner peace. "Yes, you buried her," she said gently. "I know, because I was there too. But neither of you has yet to say goodbye."
"Fuck you for saying that," Olivia snarled. "You don't know how I feel! You have no idea what you're asking."
"I agree that I don't know exactly how you feel, Olivia," Felicia granted. "No one can. But I do know what I'm asking, because Max was my grandson too. I grieved his loss right alongside you. And on the heels of losing him, I imagine the idea of saying goodbye to Dantéa must feel absolutely unbearable."
Olivia's heart ached with the truth of Felicia's words, and she drew in a fettered breath as a soft sob racked her body, hot tears streaming down her face, unbidden. Nodding, because she lacked the ability to verbalize her defeat, she sniffled, not bothering with the wadded up Kleenex she clutched in her right hand as she pinched the bridge of her nose. She hated feeling vulnerable. In her head, that was akin to being weak. At least when it came to herself. In those she loved—especially Natalia—she viewed the ability to embrace vulnerability as a sign of strength. But in herself, it was sheer, unadulterated weakness.
Hypocrite.
The harsh internal criticism struck her.
Hard.
And she almost had to laugh at the irony. Vulnerable as she was, right now, she was the strong one. Though she looked the picture of togetherness, inside, Natalia was falling apart, a little more with each passing day. A sharp contrast to Olivia who, while often looking a mess, was the only one holding it together enough to truly deal with the harsh reality of their life.
But she'd been here before, hadn't she? When daddy died. And mama. And then Marissa. And finally, Max. She was the one who held it together, while everyone else fell apart. It was only when Gus died that anyone else ever carried her.
Natalia.
The one who should have fallen apart. But she didn't. She remained strong, and she fought for Olivia to survive, despite her own soul-crushing grief. And so Olivia vowed to remain strong now. For Natalia. To give back to her what she had received in those moments of grief and loss and aloneness after Gus died, leaving them both to mourn… and eventually, to love.
She sniffled again, this time dabbing at the tears that slipped silently down her cheeks. "I've said those final goodbyes to so many people I've loved in my life," she quietly lamented. "But nothing has ever shaken me the way losing Dantéa has."
Silently, Felicia noted Olivia's avoidance of the notion of saying goodbye to Dantéa, or of letting her go. It was a subconscious avoidance. Of that, she was certain. But that didn't make it any less difficult to address. In fact, it probably made it all the harder. "Tell me about the absolute worst moment for you," she prodded gently.
A short laugh escaped Olivia's lips. "I don't know that I could pick just one moment," she replied dryly. Was it watching their daughter take her last breath right there in Natalia's arms? Or was it watching that tiny casket descend into the ground? Or was it the day-to-day heartbreak of witnessing Natalia lose her faith?
"That's okay, Olivia," Felicia soothed. "Let's forget about choosing one moment over another, and just tell me about the first difficult moment that comes to mind."
Olivia drew in a deep breath, and nodded, as her thoughts drifted back to those final moments with Dantéa in the NICU just one wing over, and two floors down, in this very same hospital…
Wednesday, July 29, 2009… NICU, Cedars Hospital—4:30 a.m. Central Daylight Time
With Natalia's release from care the day after Dantéa's surgery, she had all but taken up residence in the NICU, where her daughter was waging a moment-to-moment battle for life. And every single moment, she spent praying for their mutual strength. Olivia was there, right by her side, except for those times when she went to check on Emma. Even then, she wasn't gone long. But those moments just happened to coincide with Frank's visits to the NICU—a means of keeping the peace during a tumultuous time for them all.
And in her absence, Ava was also there. Despite Olivia's insistence that it wasn't necessary—an argument meant to protect her eldest daughter from further pain—Ava had arrived during Dantéa's surgery, with plans to stay, indefinitely. Though Olivia's instinct was to protect Ava, immediately upon seeing her, she felt a profound sense of relief. They had fallen into one another's arms, crying until all tears were spent. And then Ava set about looking after the family's needs as they waited for news from Dr. Robbins.
Rafe visited too during those long days in the NICU, but mostly he spent his time working with Josh, or looking after Emma once Jane went home for the day. It was hard for him, seeing that tiny baby hooked up to all of those scary machines. He couldn't even fathom allowing Emma to see all of that. So it was the least that he could do, he reasoned, to allow Olivia to be there for his mother and baby sister, while he looked after Emma at home. It was during those weeks that he found himself communicating with Olivia on a whole new level. Without even realizing it, all of his anger and resentment toward her faded into oblivion, and he now saw her only as a loving, supportive partner to his mother, and a protective parent to all of their children. Amazing how hardships could shape perspective.
It had been a long and exhausting couple of weeks for them all. And sadly, the difficult part was just beginning...
Fourteen days after Dantéa's surgery, following a review of her latest labs and another in-depth consultation with Dr. Mackenzie, Dr. Robbins arrived in the NICU with devastating news. A flurry of medical terms, none of which really made any sense, soon followed, and in the wake of their utterance even the endless outpouring of empathy from doctors and nurses alike did little to soften the truth: despite Dr. Mackenzie's expert recommendations, the efforts of Dr. Robbins and Dantéa's team of dedicated NICU nurses through life-sustaining surgery, follow-up care, and numerous medications, and the prayers of countless others, her lungs still weren't developing quickly enough, and her tiny, overworked heart just wasn't capable of delivering the blood and oxygen required to sustain her life. Tears streaming down her face, Dr. Robbins instructed Olivia, Natalia, and Frank to brace themselves and prepare for the inevitable: Dantéa likely wouldn't survive the night.
Still, Natalia continued to pray. To believe that the doctors, despite their expertise, were wrong. Surely God wouldn't take their child! Not after everything they'd already been through. After losing Gus. And after her fighting her way to accepting Dantéa would be a part of their family. If she had been Gus's child, there would never have been a doubt. But she was Frank's—a constant reminder of her failings.
And there it was…
The truth that shackled her.
If only she'd held firmly to the faith she so vehemently professed in all other areas of her life, and trusted God's plan for her, Frank never would have existed for her. Not in the way he did now, anyway. And even if she could manage to forgive herself for her mistakes with Frank, how could she ever forgive her hesitation to embrace the gift God had chosen to give her, despite her faithlessness? In her heart, she hadn't wanted Dantéa. Not in the beginning, anyway. No, she'd rejected her, seeing her only as a stumbling block in her burgeoning relationship with Olivia. Had this rejection somehow written itself on Dantéa's heart?
She couldn't live with the uncertainty of that. And so she prayed ceaselessly in those hours following the receipt of Dr. Robbins' latest prognosis, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she begged and pleaded with God to grant her the opportunity to rectify her sins, and show Dantéa how completely she was loved, how desperately she was wanted by all three of her parents, and all of her siblings.
But that wasn't to be.
In stillness of the early morning, as she sat cradling her daughter in that padded rocking chair beside the incubator, she heard the familiar rattle that signified Dantéa's inevitable struggle for air. And in those final moments she felt, more than heard, Dantéa's final breath, her tiny frame shuddering in Natalia's arms as it slipped lifelessly from her broken body, exhaled on the harbinger of hopelessness and heartbreak that would haunt her parents far longer than her existence had blessed them.
Kneeling by Natalia's side, Olivia clung to her, sobbing into Natalia's lap. A few feet away, Frank sank to his knees, his wails of grief drowning out the now-familiar hiss, and buzz, and whirr of machines that no longer served a purpose except to remind them of what they had lost. But Natalia sat there, stock still, her dark eyes now devoid of both life and tears. Her child was gone. And so was her faith in the God she'd trusted since childhood.
And the only thing left was the darkness.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009… The Farmhouse of Love—6:15 p.m. Central Daylight Time
The days and weeks that followed were a blur. People came and went at the farmhouse, a constant stream of activity. But with the exception of a few, Olivia found herself hard-pressed to remember who did what, or when.
After the flow of mourners on the day of Dantéa's memorial service, the following morning, Doris had been the first to arrive. And having little to no experience at being a best friend, she didn't know what else to do, so she brought with her the fanciest coffee machine she could find, along with a seemingly endless supply of overpriced coffee beans from some of the most exotic locations in the world. Olivia loved coffee. And Doris loved Olivia. Hence, she brought her expensive coffee in the only form she could manage without having to drive out to Timbuktu every morning to deliver it herself.
Jen and Tracy had followed soon thereafter; their SUV loaded with enough groceries to feed an army. Jen took charge of the housework, while Tracy set to work on keeping the family fed. Within a few hours, the farmhouse was spotless, and their kitchen freezer was filled with all manner of delectable meals that could easily be brought to life with the help of the oven or microwave. And long after that first week was nothing but a hazy memory, Jen and Tracy, Doris and Bennett, Langston and Dani, and even Reva, of all people, took turns making sure their pantry and refrigerator were fully stocked.
And as for that coffee machine, it was Rafe who figured out how that contraption worked. He made sure there was fresh coffee available at all times, especially for Olivia in the morning.
With a mug of that coffee in hand, Olivia sat silently on the porch, one foot tucked up beneath as jade eyes, faded by pain, scanned the horizon, her thoughts reflecting on those final moments with Dantéa. Two months had passed, and yet, the pain and sorrow still clung to her like a heavy cloak, sodden with her grief. She'd barely made it through the recounting of those moments with Dr. Boudreau that morning, and now, hours later, her heart still ached with the loss.
"I understand now," she said to her companion through quiet tears, as she stared out across the familiar landscape. What once had appeared to her in vibrant color, illuminating her world, now appeared lifeless and sallow.
"Understand what?" Phillip asked, his blue eyes soft as he gazed at her in profile. After all that had passed between them, he counted himself a fortunate man to be allowed such a place beside her. So much had changed in such a relatively short period of time, and he vowed never to take her renewed trust in him, her willingness to confide, for granted again.
"How you must've felt when I told you we'd lost Emma," she answered, in a tone rife with remorse. "I'm so sorry, Phillip. I never meant to cause you this kind of pain."
As though it were just yesterday, he felt the twinge of familiar grief; though now, his heart ached for her pain, rather than his own. "I hated you for that, for a really long time," he admitted after several long moments of deep reflection. "But I understand why you did it. And I forgave you for it a long time ago."
"I don't know how you ever could," she said with quiet regret.
"The same way you forgave me for taking her when I was sick," Phillip replied. "I know you love her, and you believed you were protecting her."
"Yeah…" she sighed, not knowing what else to say.
They'd done some really terrible things to one another under the guise of protection for themselves and their daughter. Things were different now. Better. Did she believe the rest of their lives would be without battle? Not in a million years. This was Phillip Spaulding: Arrogant, headstrong, a downright jackass at times. Not to mention just a little bit crazy when it came to the people he loved. And she was Olivia Spencer—guilty of all the same. But in those moments when she'd really needed him, when Natalia and Dantéa had needed the help that he could offer, he was there for them. All of them. Never asking for anything in return. It was a selfless act—one she would never forget.
"It's been two months," Phillip said gently. "I imagine the usual parade of well-meaning gestures ended a while ago."
Olivia smiled reflexively, but it didn't reach her eyes. "The ones that matter have continued," she shared. Leaning toward him, she nudged his bicep with her shoulder. "Like yours…"
The corners of his mouth curled upward as he leaned forward, clasping his hands between his jean-clad knees. He nodded. "Is there anything…"
Before he could even finish the question, Olivia reached out, covering his large hands with one of her own. "You've done more than I ever had a right to ask."
"You didn't ask," he reminded. "I offered."
"And we are profoundly grateful," Olivia declared. "Now we just need time to heal."
Stretching the tense muscles in his shoulders, Phillip nodded again. "Well, Beth and I are both here, if you need anything," he offered.
They sat quietly for a few moments, and then rising from the bench, Phillip moved toward the front door. "I think I'll say goodnight to Emma, and head home," he announced as he reached for the handle on the screen door. "Thank you for letting me see her this afternoon."
"Phillip…" Olivia's voice quavered with emotion from the mere utterance of his name.
"Yeah?" He turned toward her, concern in his deep blue eyes.
She offered a wobbly smile. "Why don't you tell her to pack an overnight bag," she suggested. "Maybe it's about time she spent a few days with her daddy."
Phillip's heart swelled in his chest, and he fought to keep his excitement at bay. The corner of his mouth quirked upward in that boyish grin that always tore at her heartstrings. "Thank you," he said gratefully.
Oliva shrugged nonchalantly. "Tomorrow night's date night," she said, conjuring up as much excitement as she could muster. "I thought maybe I'd ask Natalia out." Her eyes took on a sad reflection then, as she added, "It's been a while—y'know?"
"Yeah," Phillip said with a nod, his eyes locking on hers for a brief moment. "I know…"
And then he turned toward the door, stepping quietly inside, leaving Olivia to contemplate as the sun faded slowly into the horizon.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009… The Farmhouse of Love—6:45 p.m. Central Daylight Time
"Mama, can we make banana bread this weekend?" Emma chirped happily, as she stood beside Natalia at the kitchen counter, helping to make her lunch for the following day. Natalia hadn't been the same since Dantéa died; still, Emma delighted in being with her.
"Sure, Jellybean," Natalia answered dully. Reaching for the shiny red apple on the counter, she moved by instinct rather than intent toward the sink. Lifting the faucet handle, she ran the fruit beneath the stream of cool water, rinsing it off. "Maybe Ava would like to help," she added, toweling the apple try. "She loves to bake with you."
"But I wanna bake it with you," Emma whined, sounding disappointed.
The uncharacteristic whine in Emma's tone caught Natalia's attention, dragging her from the haze of familiar tasks. She'd lived in this world of dissociated moments, where she performed work-related and household duties, tending to her family's needs without need of forethought, virtually since the moment she'd returned home from Cedars—without her baby. And only in rare instances, such as this one, did she seem to waken from her trance, and actually see and hear what was happening in the moment.
Turning toward Emma, Natalia crouched down. "I'm sorry, Baby," she said softly. Gently, she feathered her fingertips through Emma's wavy chestnut tresses. So much like your mommy, she thought, but didn't voice. "Of course I'll bake with you."
Emma beamed. "Yay!" she exclaimed. Throwing her arms around Natalia's neck, she jumped up and down. In her excitement, she nearly toppled the both of them over.
"What's all the excitement about?"
The animated lilt in Phillip's booming voice broke through the merriment. They glanced up toward him, his tall frame towering over them, and he greeted them with a broad smile, his blue eyes shining.
"Mama said we could bake banana bread this weekend," Emma said eagerly. "And Ava's gonna help!"
"I said she might like to help," Natalia gently corrected, emphasizing the possibility as she rose from her crouched position, offering a sheepish smile to Phillip.
"Well, I guess I'd better have you back home by Saturday morning then," Phillip said.
"Home from where?" Emma asked curiously.
Phillip grinned widely. "Your mom said you can come stay with me for a couple of days," he announced.
"Really?" Emma's eyes were wide with anticipation.
"Yep," Phillip confirmed with a nod. And then he reached down, scooping her up in his right arm.
She squeezed his neck tightly, and he couldn't help but grin again. "So what do you think, Em? What would you like to do after school tomorrow? And Friday?" he asked as he moved easily across the kitchen to rinse his coffee mug and set it in the sink. Damn, it felt good to be making plans with his little girl!
As much as she wanted to feel happy for them both, Natalia's heart sank at the news. The mere thought of Emma being gone for several days filled her with a sense of loneliness she couldn't even fathom. But she shoved those feelings aside, and taking a deep breath, she offered a smile to her little girl, who was already rambling on about what toys she needed to pack, and all the things they could do while she was there. "I think we need to focus on what clothes to pack first, Jellybean," she said lightheartedly. "Then we can worry about toys."
Emma's shoulders sagged. "Can I at least bring my tablet?" she sighed, sounding a bit forlorn. And then she glanced up at Phillip. "You do have Wi-Fi at the mansion, don't you, Daddy?" All of a sudden, she looked nervous.
Phillip laughed heartily. "Yes, we have Wi-Fi at the mansion," he answered. "But I think we'll stay at Beth's this time."
She looked a bit edgy again, and Phillip was quick to allay her fears. "Don't worry, she has Wi-Fi too," he grinned.
"Oh, thank goodness," Emma said with a sigh of relief, "'cause I like to watch my videos before I go to slee…"
Realizing she was giving away her secret in front of her Mama, she let the confession trail off as she peered up at Natalia, who was looking down at her, one eyebrow raised in admonition. "Am I in big trouble?" she asked, grinning sheepishly.
"Probably," Natalia said firmly. "But not until you get back from Daddy's." There was no reason to deny her time with her father after he'd worked so hard to earn Olivia's trust again. And then she glanced up at Phillip. "Bedtime at nine on school nights," she instructed. "No tablet."
Phillip grinned. "Got it," he said. And then he glanced down, winking at Emma.
Natalia rolled her eyes and shook her head. Clearly this was a losing battle. But she didn't really mind. Emma and Phillip deserved time together, even if the thought of it made her feel extra lonely. "Come on, Em," she said, reaching for her daughter's hand. "Let's go get you packed."
Unfettered joy pranced across Emma's sweet little face as she took her Mama's hand, holding to it tightly as Natalia led her through the living room and up the stairs to her bedroom, where they packed clothes, favorite books, a few stuffed animals, and of course, her tablet, into an overnight bag for the first of many stays with her Daddy.
Wednesday, September 30, 2009… The Farmhouse of Love—7:15 p.m. Central Daylight Time
After Emma was gone, Natalia wandered across the hallway into Dantéa's nursery. Some days it was hard to be in this room. And others, she found it an odd sort of comfort. Today was one of those days. Padding across the hardwood floor in her slippered feet, she settled into the comfort of the rocking chair that sat beside the window that overlooked the vast expanse of their land. It was dark now, of course, the sun having set more than a half-hour earlier, but in the daylight from that vantage point, she could see the huge oak that now held Emma's tree house, and the slope that led down to the pond.
She'd spent many an afternoon gazing out across that vista in the days following her return home. Though, she couldn't say why. In times past, she would look at this view and see God's glory—His handprint on the horizon, and everywhere in between. Now, she only saw darkness, even in the brightest part of day. As she sat there now, staring out into the dark of night, she remembered those final moments before everything, including the sunlight, had gone irreversibly dark for her…
She hadn't cried when they lifted the baby's lifeless body from her arms. Those moments before her death had been the first Natalia had been allowed her hold her. They were so few in comparison with the countless hours she'd held and cradled Rafe. And so they were precious.
Yet, at the same time, she didn't want to remember them.
She hadn't cried at the memorial service, either. Not even when they lowered Dantéa's tiny casket into the ground. It all seemed so surreal. Like she was watching the entire scene play out from a vantage point above, rather than through her own eyes. This wasn't her child. This wasn't happening to her. She was simply a bystander, watching this tragedy unfold. She felt sad for family. But no, she didn't cry.
And she hadn't cried since. Not one single tear. All of her tears were spent in those long, agonizing hours and days, turned into weeks, as she prayed ceaselessly, begging God for her daughter's life.
But God hadn't heard her.
Or worse: if He had, He had chosen not to listen.
TBC in Chapter 18.10…