John struggled to keep from crying during Bobby's funeral. It wasn't easy because crying people surrounded him. His grandmothers were crying, his mother was crying. Barbara was crying. Everyone was crying. Everyone that was, except for him and his father. It surprised John that his grandfather Carter was crying. He had been sure the man had a heart of stone, but then, Bobby had been his favorite anyway. Just as he had been their Dad's favorite. While John couldn't seem to ever do anything right, Bobby had been unable to do anything wrong. A perfect child. A good brother. And now he was dead. When his parents had hung their heads over Bobby and wondered why him, he had known they had meant, why not John? He had often wondered that himself.
At the cemetery, John found himself staring at Bobby's casket and wondering who was going to watch over him now that Bobby was dead. He then thought that maybe things would be different now that Bobby's suffering was over. His Dad certainly wouldn't be as upset, right? Maybe there would be no more beatings, no more pain. He became lost in that daydream and unaware that everyone else was returning to the limousines that had brought them here.
"John? It's time to go, son."
John looked up at his grandfather Truman. The man reached out to take John's good hand and they walked to the cars. John glanced down at the cast covering his left arm. According to his doctor, the broken arm was almost healed and would be coming out of the cast soon. It would be nice to have full use of both arms again, he happily thought. But his happiness quickly returned to sadness as he remembered that there wasn't anyone to play with anymore. Bobby wouldn't be there to play catch with him. Bobby wouldn't be there to do anything with him anymore. He stumbled as tears filled his eyes and blocked his vision, but his grandfather gently kept him on his feet.
"Whoa, there, Johnny. We don't want you breaking your other arm, do we?"
"No, sir." John never wanted to feel anything like that again. Deep down inside, he knew that his Dad had not meant to break his arm. He had just twisted too hard or something when he was pulling John away from Bobby's bedside. John knew he had been wrong to have gone to Bobby's room. The rules for visiting had been told to him. No one under twelve allowed in the rooms at any time. Bobby's doctors had often waived that rule before, mainly because Bobby would insist that John stay with him. Not this time though, and John worried for his brother as he sat in the waiting room with his family. His mother wouldn't stop crying and neither would Barbara. John knew that meant things were really bad this time. So, he had sneaked away and found Bobby.
Bobby had his eyes closed, but he wasn't asleep. He was even glad to see John there. They didn't talk much because Bobby was so tired. Not that they ever needed to talk. It was enough to just be there with each other. Eventually, Bobby fell asleep and John continued to sit there, watching him, hoping for a miracle.
Then his Dad had come into the room. He was clearly angry and he told John that he had been looking all over for him. He grabbed him roughly by the right arm and jerked him away from the bed, but John didn't want to leave Bobby and he held onto the bedrail with his left hand. That angered his Dad even further and he pried John's fingers lose, then yanked on his arm.
"I'll teach you to never disobey the rules," his father hissed as he twisted John's arm.
A sharp pain shot up his arm as John heard a snap. He looked down at his arm, knowing that it shouldn't be looking like that. A boy at school had fallen from the top of the slide and broke his arm. It had been angled just like John's was.
As John began to cry from the pain, his father shoved him to the floor, then went to get a nurse. When help came, John heard his father telling the nurse that John had slipped and injured his arm. The lady gently examined his arm, pronounced it broken and assured them both that it would be all right. She told them that he was lucky to have hurt himself in the hospital because they could help him right away. Then she whisked him away with his father in tow. Poor Bobby had been so weak that he didn't wake up while all of that was happening. It had been scary at first, going into the x-ray room. But, the nurse, doctor and technician were nice to him. It wasn't until he was having the cast put on his arm that he knew something was wrong. The nurse was still being nice to him, but when she spoke to his father her voice was angry. He had heard anger enough to recognize it in anyone. By the time he was ready to go home, his grandfather was there, telling his father that he had sent Laura and Barbara home with his grandmother. He was also asking what was taking so long. Then the nurse told Roland that the doctor needed to speak with him alone. As she led John away, they passed the doctor in the hallway. There was a police officer with him and someone else who looked important. They smiled at John and asked him how he was feeling, then they asked the nurse where his father could be found. She pointed back down the hall and John looked back just in time to see his father's face clouding over with anger. And his grandfather's as well. He didn't know what he had done wrong, but he knew he was going to be in big trouble once he got home.
Sitting in the lounge with the nurse, John could hear his grandfather yelling at the doctor and the policeman. He didn't realize that he was crying again until the nurse gently wiped his cheek with a tissue and told him that everything was going to be all right now. That he wasn't going to be getting hurt any more. He became afraid then, not sure what was going on. He hadn't told anyone except Bobby about their father hitting him, so how could they know? Before he could worry too much about it, the door burst open and his father rushed inside, grabbing John out of the chair and holding him close. "No one is going to take my son away from me. Do you hear me?" Roland was shouting at the police officer. John's grandfather was there as well, telling the police officer
that if he arrested Roland then it would be the biggest mistake of his career. Then he went over to the telephone and called someone, a smug look on his face. The look told John that the police officer was really in trouble now.
"Mr. Carter, put John down. We can discuss this in another room," the doctor said.
"You plan to take him from me, and I won't allow that. John belongs to me. I told the nurse what happened to his arm. It's not my fault that she doesn't believe me."
"Mr. Carter, the x-ray that was taken of his arm is proof that he didn't just fall and get hurt. And the bruises on his body are far too numerous to be the result of normal play," the doctor said. "Put John down before he gets hurt again."
"How dare you accuse my son of harming John?" John's grandfather asked, his phone conversation over. "His oldest son is laying in a bed upstairs dying from leukemia and you're making such cruel and vile accusations. Roland loves all of his children and would never do such a thing." Robert stood in front of Roland and John, looking directly at John. "Did your father hurt you today? Did he break your arm?"
John looked down at the floor, his father's arms squeezing his body. He shook his head. "It was my own fault, sir. I slipped."
Robert turned around. "See? It was just an accident."
The police officer's radio crackled to life and he frowned as he was given orders to call police headquarters. He quickly used the phone in the lounge, then frowned even more as he stared at Roland. When he hung up the receiver, his face was grim.
"I've been assured that Mr. Carter is incapable of child abuse and that if I arrest him then I will risk being fired. It looks as if you win this time, Mr. Carter, but if I ever hear of your son being brought into this or any other hospital in the Chicago area for any reason, then I'll be at your front door with an arrest warrant."
One by one, Roland's accusers left the lounge, with the nice nurse being the last one to leave. She gently caressed John's cheek, then glared at Roland and Robert. "Take care, John. Everything's going to be okay." Then she left.
"Let's get home. I've had about enough of this place, Roland. Imagine the nerve of those people to accuse you of such a vile act."
"It's over now, father. But, I think that tomorrow I'm going to make arrangements to have Bobby brought home. He doesn't want to die in a hospital anyway."
John didn't like hearing his father talk about Bobby dying. He didn't want to think about what things would be like once Bobby was gone.
****************************************************************
John slowly opened his eyes as his willed away the memory of the dream. His room was dark, as was the entire apartment. He took a deep breath and was immediately assault with Anna's scent. She was laying on the bed with him, snuggled next to his body. She had been so considerate to him while he was crying. She never asked him what was wrong. She simply held him and let him cry. He supposed that he must have fallen asleep in her arms. While the image of falling asleep because he was worn out by his crying didn't thrill him, the image of falling asleep in Anna's arms held a lot of interest. As his body registered the fact that she was practically on top of him, it responded. What he wouldn't do to be able to reach out and touch her. To be able to lean over and softly kiss her slightly parted lips. Would she kiss him back or push him away? Would he slip up and tell her that he loved her only to have her tell him that she still wasn't over Max Rosher? He knew he couldn't handle hearing that again. But, she didn't leave Chicago with Max. She had remained here. Here in his apartment.
His stomach growled and he felt Anna stir.
"I'm sorry. I forgot all about the pizza," she said as she sat up.
"That's okay. We both fell asleep. Why don't you order it now?"
Anna switched on the light and they both squinted at the sudden glare. Their eyes met and locked, each one thinking that the other looked rather appealing rumpled from a nap.
"I had been coming back to ask what kind of crust you prefer? I'm partial to hand-tossed."
"That works for me."
She nodded. "Do you need help with anything before I call?"
He shook his head. "I'm fine for now. Unless you want to help me get into the wheelchair?"
"I can do that."
She helped him get into the chair, wheeled him out into the living room, then called to order their pizza.
"Doug and Carol said that they had a nice visit with you earlier," Anna commented as she set the table for them.
John nodded. "Yeah, it was a nice visit. Dad brought some work here with him, so he kept busy with that. Dawes and I sat around and watched videos."
"Oh really? Anything good?"
John grinned. "It wasn't porn, if that's what you're thinking. Just old Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn movies. They were a great couple."
"I liked them together," she agreed. "You said videos. Does that mean they're still here?"
"Sure. Dawes brought a bunch of them over. We didn't get to see them all. Want to watch one?"
"That would be nice. Where are they?"
"The ones we didn't see are beside the VCR. The others are in a bag beside the entertainment center. I won't mind it if you want to watch one of those."
"John, are you always this agreeable? Whatever toppings I wanted on the pizza were fine, whatever I want to watch is fine. Doesn't anything bother you?"
"No. But, I don't think that pizza toppings and videos are anything to get bothered over."
"You don't like it when people get upset with you, do you?"
"Not really. Why? Is it a crime for me to want people to be happy with me?"
"I don't know," she thoughtfully replied. "I guess that all depends on why you want them to be happy with you."
"You're a pedes doc, Anna, not a shrink. I don't need to be analyzed," he snapped.
Anna couldn't keep from grinning. John did have a bite when he needed it. She just wished he would assert himself more. She busied herself with looking through the tapes, then selected one for them to watch after they ate.
Anna set the VCR to rewind the movie, then began to clear away their supper dishes. The pizza had been good and so had the movie. All in all, she would describe it as a good evening. If not for the fact that she knew John was hurting inside.
"Why don't you just leave the dishes for now?" John called out to her.
Thinking that they could wait, Anna returned to the living room and her chair. She liked sitting there since it was the closest she could get to John. Maybe once he was on crutches, they would be able to sit on the sofa together. Remembering how nice it had been to cuddle beside him, she felt herself blushing. If he noticed, he made no comment.
"So, tell me about your roommate," she said.
"Not much to tell really. Dennis had this place all to himself and he gave me the chance to move in with him after my apartment building burned down. He was a good friend to me and a good roommate. He died unexpectedly, so I ended up having the place all to myself. I didn't have a problem with the rent until I lost my trust fund."
"It's a nice place. Dennis was lucky to find a place like this. The best part is that it's not far from the hospital."
"The best part is the fireplace," he grinned.
"That is nice, too. Do you want a fire tonight?"
"No. I'm not cold."
"So, did Dennis work at the hospital?"
"He was a surgical intern. We both worked under Benton. Dennis was having a rough time of it. His girlfriend was seeing someone else. I guess that Monique was tired of trying to have a long distance relationship with Dennis. And Benton was always giving him a hard time. They got into it the night before Dennis died."
"How did he die?"
"He was hit by an El train. The police ruled it an accidental death."
"But, you don't believe that, do you?" she softly asked. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he didn't.
John shook his head. "Dennis was supposed to be covering the E.R., but he left the hospital. Why would he do that? I know that I can't be responsible for what someone else does, but I've felt guilty about his death. He needed someone to talk with that night, and I just wasn't there for him. I hadn't been there for him for quite some time. Mainly because I was involved with someone. She was leaving the area and we didn't have much time left to spend together. I decided I would rather spend my time with her as opposed to listening to Dennis complain about Benton and his girlfriend. I was selfish and in the end, I paid for my selfishness by losing my best friend. I should have learned by now that my actions will harm others if I'm not careful. That my happiness will only result in someone else being unhappy."
"That's not true, John. You can't hold yourself responsible for the happiness of those around you. Each of us makes our own decisions and we all have to live with the consequences of those decisions."
"I know that," he snapped. "But, we also have to live with that fact that sometimes those consequences hurt other people."
"Who do you think you've hurt? Aside from Dennis?"
"A lot of people. Too many to count."
"John, I know you think I'm judging you family, but I'm not. However, I think it's very obvious that you've been hurt by your father. Badly hurt."
"I told you before that I don't want to talk about that, Anna."
"I know. But, I think you need to talk about it, John. Especially tonight. You spent all day with your father. That had to have been emotionally rough for you."
"I survived it, Anna. I always do."
"Do you?"
He glared at her. "What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that not so long ago you were crying you heart out on my shoulder. It wasn't just from frustration at being injured, either."
"I thought you weren't going to play shrink anymore."
"I never said that. I care about you, John, and it hurts me to see you hurting. I know that you're finding it difficult to trust me right now, and I can understand the reasons why. But, you need a friend. Someone you can talk with. Share your thoughts with. I'm willing to listen if you're willing to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about."
"Isn't there?"
***************************************************************
"John! Chase! You children get inside right now!"
Chase looked back at the house as he heard his grandfather call for him and John. "We had better get back inside. Grandfather sounds angry."
"Grandfather always sounds angry, Chase. Isn't it wonderful out here?" John spread out his arms, delighting in the feel of the wind against his skin. He looked up at the clouds in their dark blue, almost purplish splendor. A bolt of lightning split the sky and John knew it was going to be a spectacular storm. He could barely hear his grandfather's voice over the thunder, not that it mattered. He didn't want to go inside now.
"Well, I'm going in. You should come in, too, Scooter." Chase looked warily up at the sky, jumping as lightning cracked through the sky once more. "It's dangerous out here."
"I'm okay."
John didn't even notice when Chase ran inside. Or if he did notice, it didn't matter. All that mattered was being out here. He closed his eyes and raised his face to the sky as the rain began to pelt him. He longed to be one with the wind and just blow away from here - to dance in the air like the leaves that the wind had ripped from the trees. To be blown to a place where he wouldn't feel any more pain. He opened his eyes just in time to see a bolt of lightning hit one of the trees in the woods that surrounded the expansive lawn which circled the house. Then strong arms grabbed him up and he found himself being carried back to the house.
He was set down in the sitting room and his grandfather was looming over him. Around him, people were scurrying around. His grandmother was closing the French doors that led to the patio and Dawes was trying to get close enough to John to dry his hair with a towel.
"Damn you, child, I told you to come inside. You could have been killed out there," his grandfather raged at him.
As the man approached him, John shrank back suddenly fearful as he saw the same look in his grandfather's eyes that he so often saw in his fathers'. He was going to hit him, too.
"Please, I'll be good from now on. Please don't hit me. I promise I'll be good."
His grandfather looked puzzled as he heard John's words. "Boy, you're always good. No one would ever have a reason to hit you."
"You're angry at me."
"Son, I'm angry because I'm scared. You were out there in the middle of the lawn and an easy target for lightning. Chase at least had enough sense to come in when he was called, but you stayed put. Didn't you see the lightning hit that tree? It could just as easily have hit you."
John shivered, not so much from his wet clothes as from how close he had come to getting hit. He knew he deserved to be punished because his father told him all the time how bad he acted, how clumsy he was. About what a disappointment he was turning out to be.
"I think some hot tea would be nice right now," his gamma said as she took the towel from the butler and continued to dry John's hair and skin.
"Right away, ma'am." Dawes left the room.
"The child needs dry clothes, Millicent. Chase? Do you have anything clean that John can wear?"
"Yes, sir. I'll go get it." Chase was out the door before his grandfather could stop him. His intent had been for John to accompany Chase up to the guest room where Chase had spent last night and to change in there. Well, John would just have to change in the downstairs lavatory.
"Let's get that wet shirt off of you," Millicent reached for the hem of John's shirt, but he quickly squirmed out of her arms.
"I'm okay," he said. He couldn't let her see his bruises.
"John Truman Carter, you are not okay. You are soaking wet and I will not allow you to catch pneumonia."
"Gamma, you don't catch pneumonia from being out in the rain. That's just an old story."
"Your father needs to keep those medical books away from you before you start to think that you're a doctor," his grandfather joked.
"I'm going to be a doctor some day." John stated. He knew that was what he had to be. He wanted so much to help other people feel better.
"Well, you'll never get to be a doctor if you die from pneumonia. Now take that wet shirt off so your grandmother can get you dry." When John didn't move to obey him, his grandfather gave him a stern look. "That was an order, child."
"Yes, sir." John felt trapped. While his father had told him to never let anyone see his bruises, his grandfather was now ordering him to take his shirt off. His Dad had told him to always obey his grandfather though. John prayed he was doing the right thing as he pulled the shirt over his head and went back over to his grandmother so she could dry him with the towel.
"My God, child, what happened to you?" she asked as she saw the numerous bruises on his back and chest.
John shrugged. "I guess I run into things a lot when I'm playing. It's okay. They don't hurt."
He felt her hand gently brush against his back, but he missed the worried look she had in her eyes as she looked at his grandfather.
"John, I don't think you got all of these bruises while playing." His grandfather had come to stand by him. "How did you get hurt?"
"I'm clumsy, sir."
Chase ran back in, clothing in his arms. He came to an abrupt stop when he saw John. "How can you be so bruised now that Bobby's not hitting you anymore?" he blurted out.
Their grandfather looked from John to Chase, then sat down and beckoned Chase to come to him. "What do you mean by that?"
"Well," Chase looked uncertainly over at his cousin, then continued, "Bobby used to get upset about not being able to do what he wanted to do and he would hit Scooter." Then Chase remembered that their grandfather didn't approve of the use of nicknames and he quickly amended himself, "I mean, Johnny."
"Is that true, John?" his sharp blue eyes seemed to bore into his very soul and John knew he would know if he told him the truth or not. Still, he had no choice but to nod.
"Bobby has been dead for three months, John. There's no way that any of these bruises were caused by your brother."
"I told you that I'm clumsy, sir."
"So you did. Chase, give John the clothing so he can change. John, come with me."
John took the clothes from Chase, then followed his grandfather to the huge downstairs lavatory. It was made entirely out of marble and reminded John more of a bank lobby than of a place where a person would go to pee or wash their hands.
"Go on and change, John."
"Can I be alone?" John anxiously asked.
"Not this time. I want to make sure that you don't have bruises anywhere else on your body."
John pulled on the clean shirt, then pulled off his shorts and wet underwear, wishing that Chase was bigger so that the shirt would cover more of him. He could feel his grandfather's eyes on his body, knew that he was seeing the welts from where his Dad had spanked him with a belt that morning. Knew he could see the bruises on his upper thighs. He quickly put on the dry underpants and shorts, then turned around. He kept his eyes to the floor and was very grateful when his grandfather opened the door without a word and led him back to the sitting room. Dawes was there with the tea service, setting it out on the table.
"I think the boys should take their tea in the kitchen," he told Millicent.
"Boys, you heard your grandfather. I know that cook has some cookies for you as well."
Chase rushed off to the kitchen, never noticing the angry look that was in their grandfather's eyes. But John went more slowly, afraid that there was going to be a repeat of what had happened when he had broken his arm at the hospital. John flinched as he heard his grandfather curse. Then, more quietly, Grandfather called himself the worst kind of fool. He wanted to stay and hear more, but Dawes stepped into the Hallway. He took him by the hand.
"Come along Master John. I think that Cook has some of your favorite cookies on hand."
Not much later, John and Chase could hear shouting coming from the sitting room. John could make out his father's voice very clearly.
"Wow, Uncle Roland sure is mad, Scooter," Chase said, letting his cookie drop to the plate.
John nodded. "I know."
"I wonder what they're arguing about?"
"Me." John softly replied. He pushed his plate of cookies away. He hadn't wanted them to begin with, and right now he didn't even want to look at them.
Chase looked around, then turned to John. "Cook and Dawes are busy and won't notice if we leave. C'mon. I want to hear what they're saying. There's way too much shouting going on for them to be arguing about you."
Chase slipped out of his chair and tugged on John's arm, pulling him with him down the hallway. As they neared the sitting room, the voices became more distinct.
"I was such a fool at the hospital, son. I believed you when you said that you would never harm your own son. It was beyond my comprehension that you would hurt John in such a manner. But, I'm not blind any longer. I've seen with my own eyes what you've done."
"John has a tendency to lie, father. He's been having problems since Bobby became ill." Roland had finally quit shouting, but his voice was still angry. "You don't have to live with him every day, never knowing what story he'll make up in an effort to get attention."
"John never said a word about his injuries, Roland. I told you that I saw them with my own eyes. You took a belt to that child. More than once from the look of things. And I believe now that you did, indeed, break his arm. I cannot and will not stand by and let this continue."
"So what do you intend to do? Turn me over to the police for child abuse? I think not."
"Don't push me, son. Don't ever push me."
"What are you two doing back here?"
Both boys jumped as Dawes' hands came down gently on their shoulders, turning them around.
"Back to the kitchen with the two of you."
About an hour later, their Gamma came into the kitchen and told John that he would be staying with them for a little while to keep Chase company. Robert had gone with his father to get his things.
A week later, John was told that he and Barbara were being sent to boarding school because their parents were going to be traveling and couldn't take them along. John sat there, silent and sad as his sister ranted and raved about the unfairness of it all. Why couldn't they travel with their parents? Why couldn't they stay with their grandparents or other relatives? Barbara did not want to go to boarding school. Deep down, John was afraid that they were being sent away because his grandparents had seen his bruises. But, they had never mentioned that rainy day again, and his father hadn't said anything to him about it, either. But, he knew they were being sent away because of him.
***********************************************************
And now Anna wanted him to tell her all of that. Why wouldn't she understand that nothing good would come of him telling her about his childhood? Why couldn't she see that while he had been happy to get away from his father, Barbara had been miserable and made unhappy. And it was all his fault. If she ever found out the truth -- that he was the reason she had to go to boarding school, then she would be furious with him. He knew it. And he didn't want her angry with him.
He shook his head. "There's nothing to talk about, Anna. It's getting late and I'm getting tired. I'd like to go to bed now."
Anna finally nodded, then got up to take him to this room. "I'll let you worm your way out of this conversation for now, John. But, only because you are still recovering. But, as you get better, I won't be so lenient."
"Anna, I appreciate your concern, I really do. But, it's old news and not really your business anyway."
"Would you say that if you had a patient that had been previously abused?"
"I wasn't abused, Anna," he tersely replied.
"What do you call it then? I know you can't call it love. Love is never like that."
"What do you want from me? Do you want me to tell you that I know in my heart that my father doesn't love me? That he hates me? Fine. I know all of that, Anna. God knows, he's told me often enough. But, it doesn't change the fact that he loved me once and I want him to love me again. I'll do whatever I can to make that happen. And telling you about things that happened a lifetime ago will not do that." He turned his head away, ashamed of the tears that were welling in his eyes.
"John..."
"I don't want to talk anymore tonight, Anna. If you're my friend, then you'll respect that."
"You're right. I should respect your feelings about that. I'm sorry. Let's get you ready for bed." She wheeled him down the hall, thinking that she would call in to work in the morning to ask for the day off. It was about time that John had a small break from his family. He needed rest to be able to heal and he certainly wasn't getting it with his family, especially his father, around.