Homeless Once More, Part Nineteen
By Cathy Roberts
glroberts@bigfoot.com
Maggie looked around as the Pow wow began, gratified to find that she wasn't the only white person present. The Pow wow was open to all and some of the more adventurous tourists had chosen to come. There might have been even more people present if not for the fact the event was beginning in the evening. Maggie was so caught up in what was going on around her that at least an hour had passed before she noticed that John and most of his male relatives were no longer present. She made her way over to Allie Adair.
"John seems to be missing." Maggie tried to keep the worry out of her voice, hoping that John's grandmother knew where he was.
Allie smiled. "He's with his grandfather. There's no need for you to worry about John, Maggie. He's going to be fine. You should just enjoy yourself. The dancing will begin soon."
So, Maggie had to resign herself to the fact that for the evening she was nothing more than a spectator.
John paused outside the simple structure. He had been in the sweathouse before, years ago while still a teenager. Unlike the sweatlodges of the prairie tribes, this one had been built as a permanent structures, but the theory of construction was still the same and the same religious concerns had governed the building of the structure.
"Are you ready, John?" his grandfather asked.
John nodded, then followed the older man into the building. His uncles and cousins were already there, as were some other men from the tribe. And a few women as well. In the Cherokee Nation, it was not unusual to find women among the ranks of shaman. The shaman who would be in charge tonight was a woman, and also coincidentally, an aunt of John's. John had not taken any pain medication since that morning, so he was satisfied that his body was not presently under the influence of any drug. Taking his seat between his grandfather and Uncle Judd, John found himself ready to let go of everything he had learned in medical school and on the job. Tonight was not for the practical. It was a healing ritual, one that he so desperately needed. One that he hoped would work. His relatives were certain that he would find the healing he needed here - not healing of the body, but healing of his spirit.
The flap that formed the door was closed, and John felt himself being warmly enveloped by the complete blackness. Darkness was something he felt comfortable with - it had been his companion for a long time now. The words of the shaman were soothing and he could feel his tension begin to melt away as he immersed himself in the ritual of the ceremony. Then the flap was opened and the stones were brought in, glowing red from the fire that roared outside. It almost hurt his eyes to look upon the stones, they were so bright to him. Still, he forced himself to look at them, to lose himself in their simplicity. His soul felt empty and he knew it was because he had lost his connection to God. Oh, he had never given up his faith or belief in God. Just his belief that God had any faith in him. Any interest in him as being of any worth - other than as a whipping boy.
And yet, as he stared at the glowing rocks, he could almost hear a voice telling him that he mattered. That all of His creatures mattered equally to him. Had he been wrong all along then? If so, then how was it possible for all of the bad to have happened to him?
"Do you believe in Me?" the voice asked.
"Yes." He thought. I believe. I never stopped believing.
"Then how can you think that I would value you any less than I value my own Son?" asked the voice.
John had to think about that one for a few minutes. The crucifixion and Christ were not things he thought about often. Sure, he had learned about all the facts in Church, but aside from Sunday School and the morning service, he had not given it much thought. It was just something that the minister talked about a few times a year. Couldn't have Christianity without Christ and the crucifixion, right? But, John had never really thought about it. The fact that God had sent his own Son to live on earth, make friends, and love his family only to die. And not just die from a disease, no, he died horribly. Painfully. As a physician John knew how crucifixion killed. It was not an easy death. And through it all, God had turned his back on his Son, ignoring his cries. John's father had been there to prevent Litvak from continuing with the assault. He had even killed him and now he had to live with that on his conscience for the rest of his life. So would Kerry and her brother, Adam. So would he. If not for him, then Dan Litvak would be alive right now. And if not for Dan Litvak, then he would be whole right now. Or would he? He had been so busy lately blaming his problems on Litvak that he had forgotten how he had felt before Litvak had come to Chicago. His own personal pain - his Hell on earth. His tears began to mingle with the steam that was now permeating the sweathouse.
"I'm sorry I doubted You," he murmured.
"All is forgiven. Now you need to forgive those who have harmed you. And mostly, you need to forgive yourself," answered the voice.
But, could he forgive them? John knew it was important to at least think about doing so.
As John stared through the white mist, images began to materialize above the stones. The first image to take a recognizable form was that of Dan Litvak. John swallowed hard. His mind knew that Litvak was dead and unable to harm him, but he still felt a great fear as he looked into that face. He felt a comforting hand upon his arm and heard his grandfather whisper "It's all right, John. You are not alone here."
John willed his body to stop trembling and made himself stare into those lifeless eyes. "You cannot hurt me any longer. Leave me alone. Leave my dreams alone," John thought. The image wavered in front of him, then rose into the air, dissipating in the steam. John closed his eyes, feeling a peace settle upon him.
As the ceremony progressed, he faced many images, some of which were of no surprise to him: Dennis Gant, previous patients, Robert Carter. Not all of them were people he needed to forgive. Most of them were people he had hurt. Patients he couldn't save. Dennis. He had been a poor friend to Dennis and he often wondered if Dennis Gant would still be alive today if he had been a better friend to him.
Then there were the images of those that made him think: his parents, Chase and Bobby. It was seeing Bobby that took him aback the most. Bobby had never done anything to hurt him, or had he? Hadn't Bobby's death triggered his parents' flight - their abandonment of him and Barbara? If he were honest with himself, John would have to admit that there were times when he was angry with Bobby for dying. Angry because he left him behind. There were also times when he was angry with himself because there had not been anything he could do to save his brother's life. That same anger would bubble up whenever he lost a patient, staying just below the surface of his sadness.
Chase had betrayed him by turning to drugs for fortitude and escape. John had managed to face his grandfather and his demands; he had stood his ground regarding his future. Why hadn't Chase found the backbone to do the same? And yet, for all the anger he felt over Chase turning to drugs, there was that same sense of failure with him. Despite all of his medical training, he had not been able to save Chase from himself. That had cut him deeply, but he could see that his Uncle Branch was correct in that Chase was the one ultimately responsible for his own actions.
His parents were an enigma to him. He loved them so much but he was afraid to let them know that. They had left him behind, stuck him away in a boarding school so that he wouldn't be underfoot. Some of his anger was directed at his father for that. He could have come here to live with his grandfather Adair and been surrounded by love. At least his father had not sent him to live with his grandfather Carter. Boarding school had certainly been better than that. But, putting him and Barbara into boarding school and leaving them there had only made Jenny's depression deepen. She had needed her children most at the time when Roland had taken them away. John felt so angry with his father about that.
His anger for his mother was more because of her allowing his father to have his way for all these years. In his mind, she was as much a victim of his decisions as he and Barbara were, but at least she had the power to prevent all that had happened. She had chosen not to use it.
But, no matter how angry he felt with his parents, John could not dismiss the love he had for them. He was grateful that they were trying to stay in Chicago more, but he was hesitant to believe that it would continue. There had been too many times in his past when he had gotten his hopes up only to see them die. Not believing them now was his way of hurting them back.
Barbara's face was there as well. He dearly loved her, but felt jealous that she could cast aside all of the hurt. She had always done what she wanted, not caring what he or their parents thought about it. She had no regard for rules or the way her actions would affect other people. What he wouldn't give at times to be able to do that. But, it wasn't in his nature to disregard others. It never had been and it never would be. Being alive meant that you had responsibilities to your fellow man and creatures. One didn't take life lightly and a person didn't go through life unmindful of the consequences of one's actions.
As the hours passed and he sat through the cycles of the ceremony, John watched many faces form and dissipate before him. On his knees before God, he prayed for forgiveness and he gave forgiveness to those who had harmed him both intentionally and unintentionally. He even found himself forgiving himself for not being a good enough friend to Dennis Gant. He forgave himself for being human and fallible. John could feel the tension leave his body as each image dissolved and he could feel a calmness replace that tension. As his grandfather poured cool water over him and the last of his sweat had returned to the earth, he felt whole again. It was a heady feeling, for he had not felt that way in such a long time.
The shaman opened the flap and held it back. It was dawn and as John stepped through the doorway, he could see the sun beginning to crest the edge of the mountain. It was a new day and a new beginning. A sudden flapping of wings startled him and he looked up to the roof of the sweathouse in time to see a snow-white dove hurl itself into the sky. He watched as it soared high, much higher than a dove should fly. He smiled and turned to his grandfather, wrapping himself up in the blanket offered him.
John Adair smiled broadly at the change in his grandson and namesake. This was not the same man who had pulled up to the house the night before. This wasn't even the same man he had seen a few years back, when John had missed his graduation, but still ended up spending time with his family the next day. This man had grown and matured. What had happened to him in his life and most especially recently had been horrible and sad, but it had made him a stronger person. John Carter would never break; he would always endure.
My soul existed long before I met you,
But, it was never quite whole.
Then your soul became one with mine,
Strangers became friends ever true.
From time to time fear slips inside me,
A fear of death and loneliness.
It would tear my heart apart to lose half my soul;
I would feel only devastation if you left me.
The good that your death would bring,
You rate on a balance sheet.
You never think about the heartache
Your death would mean: the pain and suffering.
Never let it slip from your control
Just how much you mean to me.
My life would be shattered, empty;
It would tear my heart apart to lose half my soul.
Kerry was tempted to rip the page from her notebook and throw away the poem. Every now and then she felt compelled to sit and put words to paper, but she didn't know where this had come from. Today the compulsion had been almost painful by the time she reached home. Sitting down at the desk in her room, she had quickly written the poem, but now she had no idea why. She reached out and picked up the most recent postcard from John - this one from Washington, D.C. and postmarked the day after the one she had gotten from Ohio. She wondered what tomorrow's mail would bring? Would it be another from the D. C. area or maybe one from North Carolina? John had called her before she went to work last night, telling her that he and Maggie had gone to visit his mother's family in Cherokee. He went on to tell her how much she would like visiting that area of North Carolina. She smiled as she remembered the excitement in his voice as he told her about dragging Maggie out in the predawn hour so she could see the sunrise from the mountain. When she heard that they had hiked up the mountain to do that, she felt like screaming at him for being so careless as to attempt that in his medical condition, but she held her tongue. Obviously, he was all right. Besides, she knew that Maggie wouldn't let anything happen to him. Her eyes returned once more to the poem and she knew exactly where it had come from. The emptiness in her heart and the way she longed for any word at all from John were telling her more than she wanted to know about her feelings for John. Once, she had been content to be his friend, but now, now she wanted so much more than that. She knew she would never get it though. John didn't feel that way about her. She was too old for him, surely someone younger would be better suited to his tastes. So, why then did she dream about him standing in front of her, clad only in a towel and waiting for her touch? She sighed, then closed her notebook and crawled into bed, wondering what John would be doing today.
Lucy Knight opened her locker, feeling better than she had in a long time. She hung up her lab coat, then put on her winter jacket and grabbed her purse. She had just ended a conversation with Doug Ross and Carol Hathaway - a conversation that had given her renewed hope. Maggie Doyle was a lesbian and had no romantic feelings for John Carter. He could be hers if she wanted him, and there was no mistaking the fact that she wanted him very much. Whistling happily to herself, she headed out into the wintry day, her mind going over the many possible methods she could use to show John how much she cared.
Back in North Carolina, Maggie was seated at the breakfast table, still feeling more than a little stunned about what had happened to John overnight. When he had returned to the farmhouse with his family, clad only in swimming trunks, sandals and a blanket, she had gone ballistic. She had told his family off in no uncertain terms, angry with them for endangering his health. The more they just stood there, smiling at her, the angrier she became. Then she finally ran out of steam and took a good look at John. What she had seen in his face and eyes left her speechless. He had winked at her and told her that everything was going to be all right from now on and that she shouldn't worry about his health. She had insisted on examining him anyway, finding out that his pulse, respiration and blood pressure were all within normal range. When she had listened to his heart, she had been surprised to see that his surgical scars had faded to thin white lines and were no longer red. He had admitted to being tired, but not in any pain, and he had gone straight to bed. The rest of the men had also gone upstairs to sleep. Now, Maggie was sitting in the kitchen, trying to make sense of the answers that the women had given to her questions. She had never heard of sweathouses or sweatlodges. She had never much believed in the mystical, especially where healing was concerned. Now, she was having to reevaluate all she knew and believed. All that she had been taught in medical school. Perhaps the nuns and priests had not been so far off the mark as she had always thought, wishing she had paid more attention during Mass.
At noon, Maggie and John were back on the road. Since Cherokee was only 150 miles north of Atlanta, it wouldn't be a long trip. They would have time to find a nice hotel, get something to eat and then John could call the Gants to let them know he was in town. His previous apprehensions about seeing Mr. and Mrs. Gant had faded and now he found himself eager to see them and to share memories of Dennis with them. After last night, he knew he didn't need to go to Atlanta, but he still wanted to.
"So, what was it like in the sweathouse? Or are you allowed to tell me?" Maggie asked.
"I can tell you about what happened to me. You'll probably laugh at me though."
"I'll try not to laugh. I promise." She glanced over at him and flashed him a quick grin.
"Okay." He took a deep breath. "God spoke to me."
Maggie looked back at him, seeing that he was serious. "God? As in the Almighty?"
John nodded. "Yeah. He spoke to me. It was - awesome. There were other things going on, too. I saw the faces of those I had wronged in the past, the people who I needed to receive forgiveness from. I also saw the faces of those who had wronged me and who I needed to forgive. The really strange part is that it felt as if I was only in there for an hour or less, not half the night."
"So, what did God say to you?"
"He told me that He had never forgotten me and that all was forgiven. All that remained was for me to forgive myself."
"And you're sure it wasn't just your imagination or a hallucination?"
John shook his head, "There were no drugs involved, Maggie. It was real. The main point behind the ceremony is to reconnect with the Creator and the earth. Water and heat create the steam, making us sweat, and then water is poured over our bodies to help our sweat return to the earth. It's an unbroken cycle."
"You make it sound pretty simple."
"The cycle of life is simple, Maggie. We're just usually too busy to pay attention to its simplicity." John wasn't sure if he should mention the faces he saw as the ceremony came to an end. The first face was not clear, but it shone brightly through the darkness of the sweathouse. So brightly that John had to close his eyes and even then, he could still see the brightness through his eyelids. There was no doubt whatsoever in his mind that he was looking upon the face of God. But, how could he tell that to Maggie? She was having a difficult enough time with the entire healing concept and his assertion that he and God had spoken with each other.
The second face had brought an even greater warmth to his heart. It was Kerry's face, pure in its radiance. So, why was he heading south when the most important thing in his life was to the north? He knew the answer to that - he had to close the circle. He would visit Dennis' grave, share memories with his parents and hopefully bring comfort to them. He would then go to Philadelphia and wish Anna well with her life, whether it be with Max or someone else. He knew it wouldn't be with him and he was no longer pained by that knowledge.
Maggie ended the long silence by asking "So, you and Kerry Weaver, huh?" She was grinning from ear to ear and more than willing to tease John about his inadvertent admission regarding his feelings for Kerry.
"I have no idea, Maggie. I can only tell you how I feel about her."
"And that is?"
"I like her a lot. She's bright, sensitive, caring, and warm. She's a good friend and a wonderful cook. I find it very easy to live in the same house with her."
"Are talking about the same Kerry Weaver here? The bitch of the E.R.? Drill master? Unrelenting, stern, no sense of humor."
"Kerry has a great sense of humor. It's just that most people don't expect humor from her for some reason, so when she does joke with them, they don't get it."
"Well, at least you're breaking away from the norm," she grinned.
"Just what is that supposed to mean?"
"From what I've seen and heard, you usually go after the cute blondes."
"And you have a problem with that? If I remember correctly, the ex-girlfriend of yours at the firing range was a blonde."
"She was also a cop."
"So? My women have been doctors, except for Roxanne, who certainly wasn't dumb, either. I don't think I like the way you're insinuating that blondes are dumb just because they're blonde. My grandmother is one of the most intelligent women I know and she's a blonde."
"I wasn't trying to say that blondes are dumb. I hate stereotypes and you, of all people, should know that. I was just saying that you usually pursue blondes."
"And implying that there's something wrong with that as well. Some men lean toward women with long legs. Some like women with big breasts. Some like brunettes, and some like blondes. Is that a crime? If I meet a wonderful woman, should I tell her to take a hike if she also happens to have blonde hair?"
Maggie angrily sighed, "I wasn't saying that, either. Just forget it. You obviously have no intention of allowing me to explain myself."
"Fine, I'll forget it. I just cannot understand why you think there's something wrong in liking a particularly hair color on a person."
"There's nothing wrong with it." Maggie had to work hard to keep from shouting at him. "I just...oh, forget it, all right?"
"Fine," he snapped.
"Good," she snapped back.
"So, you admit that Anna is smart?"
"I never said she wasn't!" This time Maggie did raise her voice and immediately regretted it. Just because John had gone through some mystical healing ritual, it didn't mean he was emotionally capable of handling her yelling at him. She then heard a strange noise from his side of the car and when she glanced to the side, she saw that he was trying to keep from laughing out loud at her.
The minute he saw her looking at him, John could no longer
control himself. He burst out in laughter. "Sorry. It was just so easy to get you riled up about that."
"Ha ha. Very funny. Seriously, John, I do not think that blondes are dumb bimbos and I don't think there's anything wrong with you favoring a particular set of physical attributes. I prefer blondes, too."
"So, I noticed," John said with a smile. Then he turned serious. "Although, there was a time when I wished you would have preferred brunettes. Male brunettes to be exact."
"And I wished that you would have been a woman," Maggie replied. "But, neither wish ever came true, huh?"
"Nope. Just as well I guess. I might have missed out on having you for a friend if all that sex stuff ended up getting in the way."
"Thanks. I like having you for a friend, too. So, when do you want to stop for dinner?"
"Maggie, we've only been on the road for thirty minutes. How about if we just hold off and have dinner in Atlanta?"
"Well, I'm hungry now, so I'll find a place to get something to eat. Check out the exit signs for me, okay?"
"Sure. What are you looking for?"
"Something that doesn't have meat. Heck, I'll even settle for chips and a soda right now."
"That I can look for. Gas station, next exit."
"Oh, you're good, John," she jokingly replied.
He grinned, "I know."
By seven that evening, they had arrived in Atlanta, found a hotel, checked in and unpacked, then gone out for a leisurely meal and returned to their hotel.
Now it was time for John to call Mr. and Mrs. Gant to see if they would be home the following day. Mr. Gant was surprised and then delighted that John was in Atlanta. Mrs. Gant, who John had never met, but often spoke with on the telephone when he and Dennis were roommates, lightly chewed him out for not calling earlier so that he and Maggie could have come over for supper. She made him promise to be at the house no later than eleven the next morning so they could have Sunday dinner. John agreed, got directions to the house, then hung up. He let Maggie know what the plans were for the next day, then they went out to go see a movie. Even though staying with John's family in North Carolina had been nice, they were still tired of sitting around hotel rooms. The nearby mall was bustling and since they had to wait thirty minutes for the movie to begin, they had time to sit and watch the people go by.
"Aw man, would you look at that? I hope I was never that obvious when I used to cruise the mall," Maggie said, inclining her head toward a group of teenage girls. The girls couldn't have been much older than sixteen, but each of them were dressed as if it were spring and not winter outside. And the equally young boys noticed every detail.
"I never cruised the malls." John made a wry face. "There wasn't one in the town where the boarding school was located. Just a small shopping center with an ice cream shop, pizzeria and one movie theatre. Very boring. Not that a mall would have made that much of a difference as far as dating went. The only girls around who were my age were also attending the same school."
"You sound like you didn't like school too much."
"I didn't like being sent away. I think that deep down inside, I'm a homebody," he grinned. "Granted, I enjoy getting out on the water and sailing, but to me, the best part of traveling is coming home."
"I like to travel, not that I ever get a chance to do a lot of it. I would love to be able to just take off for Europe and not have to worry about being back to work by a certain time. Maybe I should have done that before I started college."
"I dunno. Europe's all right, but it's not home."
"You are a homebody, aren't you?" she grinned at him.
"Guilty as charged. So, where did you go to college?"
"Chicago. I wasted close to a year in nursing school. Ended up dropping out because I couldn't handle the idea of taking orders. I still had my heart set on medicine though, so I decided to be a doctor."
"Why did you want to be a doctor?"
Maggie shrugged, "My Mom was a nurse and I admired what she did. It made me want to help people in any way I could. I thought at first that being a nurse would be the best way to do that. The nurses are always with the patients and do so much for them. So, when my nursing dream went bust, I decided that if I couldn't give TLC to people, then I would do my best to heal them. What about you? Why did you want to be a doctor?"
"When my brother Bobby was diagnosed with leukemia, my parents took him all over Chicago and the United States in an attempt to beat the cancer. Bobby was determined to have me with him, so I ended up going to every doctor visit and every hospital visit for chemo. I can't remember a single doctor not being genuinely concerned about Bobby. And me. Most of them paid a lot of attention to me, making sure I understood what was going on with Bobby, telling me that I was a big comfort to him. They did their best to put Bobby at ease, even when it was apparent that he was dying. He wanted to die at home and not in the hospital and his doctors made sure that could happen. They came out to the house several times a day, including the day he died. They made a difference to Bobby and to me and I wanted so much to be like them. To be the kind of person who actually made a difference in the life of someone else. That's one of the reasons why I left surgery - I didn't feel as if I could do that as a surgeon. Sure, surgeons save lives all the time, but they don't hold their patients' hands. They cut and run."
"I know I was a little hard on you when you had to redo your internship, but I kinda admired the way you stuck it out in order to get what you wanted. A lot of people would have said "no way" and gone running back to surgery."
"Even if Anspaugh would have let me go back, I don't know if I would have wanted to. After Dennis died, I realized that life was too short to live based on what other people wanted. I had resisted my grandfather's attempts to go into business, sticking to my desire to be a doctor. But, I ended up going into the area of study that my father wanted me to pursue. I never wanted to be a surgeon. It was just easier to go after the harder specialty in an effort to make my Dad happy than to stand up and say that it wasn't what I wanted. Once I knew that I didn't want to be a surgeon, I was determined to be the type of doctor I wanted to be, no matter what it took."
Maggie gave him a quick hug and a smile. "And the day you decided that was a good day for a lot of people John. I really mean that."
He smiled back, "Thanks. I think that day you dropped out of nursing school was a good one for a lot of people, too."
"Why thank you," she grinned. Looking at her watch, she jumped to her feet. "We had better get going or we won't have time to get snacks before the movie starts."
"Popcorn?" John asked, hoping that they could share a large tub of the buttery kind.
"Of course. And some Sweet Tarts."
"Goobers."
"And large sodas."
John grinned, "What happened to Ms. Healthy?"
"Ms. Healthy takes a long hike when it's movie time, buddy. Let's go."
Kerry had been pleasantly surprised when Adam had shown up at her door. He was still waiting to be transferred to the Chicago area, but his flights in and out of the city were getting more frequent. He had continued to date Randi, so whenever he was in town he divided his time between her and Kerry. Many nights were spent on Kerry's couch, but lately he had been staying overnight with Randi. Since Kerry had not yet begun to prepare supper, he took her out to eat, not liking the sad look in her eyes and wanting to find out why it was there.
"So, how are things going with you?" he asked as they waited for their salads.
"Fine. It's busy at work with Maggie and John both suspended."
"And at home?"
"Quiet. Very quiet. I don't think I realized just how much I enjoyed having John for company until he wasn't there anymore."
"You make it sound as if he isn't coming back."
"He came so close to dying, Adam. So damn close to not being there anymore."
"But he didn't die. He's very much alive and, from what you told me before, he has no intention of moving out."
Kerry finally smiled, "That's true. I hate breaking in new roommates. You wouldn't believe how much work is involved in teaching someone how to properly operate my stereo."
"It's never seemed difficult to me."
"That's because you've never bothered to ask me how to do it properly. You just mess with it."
"Guilty as charged," he laughed. The waitress brought their salads and then they were alone once more. "So, can I ask you a personal question?"
"Maybe," Kerry smiled up at him, then bent her head to look at her salad. She had a funny feeling that Adam was going to ask her about John and she didn't want her eyes giving her away.
"You've become quite fond of John, haven't you?"
"I like John. He's a wonderful man. He's helpful and considerate. And he never, ever thought about touching my stereo." She finally looked up at her brother and grinned.
Adam smiled and nodded. He knew Kerry too well to not be able to tell what she wasn't saying. She was more than fond of John. He wondered if he should tell Randi that she was right on the money with her assumption that Kerry and John were falling in love. To his knowledge, Randi had been very discreet regarding what he shared with her regarding his family, and most especially, Kerry. Maybe Randi would have some helpful hints on how he could convince Kerry that she should share her feelings with John.
"Okay. Next personal question. How's your search going for your birth mother?"
Kerry sighed. She had hoped that things would happen a lot faster than what they were and she told him that.
"I'm sure that you'll here something soon, sis. I just hope that you aren't disappointed when you do."
"That's a risk I'm prepared to take. Ah, here come our steaks now."
They enjoyed their dinner and each other's company for the rest of the evening. After Adam dropped her off at the house, Kerry didn't feel quite as lonely as she had before. Still, she longed to hear footsteps on the basement stairs and hungered to hear John's voice asking her if she had a good time while out with Adam. Just how much time would it take for him to do all he wanted as far as visiting people went? Two weeks or all four weeks of his suspension? She was hoping for one week, but didn't think that was a reasonable time frame. Then again, she wasn't feeling very reasonable right now either.
Needing something to keep her hands and mind occupied, she headed for the kitchen. It was time to do some serious cooking. Not that anything would go to waste. She did have a freezer that she could fill. Wishing that she wasn't off for the night, she grabbed her cookbooks and set about to make the most difficult dish she could find. Tomorrow morning she would be back on days and she looked forward to dealing with the hectic ER then. It kept her mind off of John and she needed that. Of course, there were still those moments when a trauma came in and she had to bite her tongue to keep from asking one of the nurses to get him to help. Or looking for him in the lounge when she did have a spare moment.
"This has got to stop, Kerry," she said to the kitchen. "You cannot allow yourself to become obsessed with a friend. Remember that." Within minutes, she was taking her obsession out on innocent vegetables, cutting and dicing them into submission. If only it were that easy to handle her feelings for John, she thought. Then everything would be all right.
She paused in the middle of cutting a tomato. No, everything would be even better if she didn't have to handle her feelings for him. If he returned those feelings. She shook her head. No more useless daydreaming about John Carter. Determined to keep her mind on her task, she banished her daydreams. Now, if only she could find it as easy to banish those invasive and erotic night dreams she kept having about him.