A soft knock on the door got the attention of the women and Anna answered it to find that Barbara had returned.
"I'm sorry I rushed out like that, Anna. It was rude of me."
Anna gave her a reassuring smile. "You're forgiven. Come on in. It's just us ladies here now."
Barbara shrugged out of her coat as she stepped inside. "Dad's gone?"
"He went to work. You grandfather went to see if he could find a way to get him into counseling," Laura said.
Barbara sat down on the couch between her mother and Millicent. "Why would he want to do that? He should be on his way to the police station to file a complaint against him. Sorry, Gamma. I know that he's your son and everything, but he shouldn't be allowed to get away with what he did to John."
Millicent gently patted Barbara's hand. "I know that it's tough for you to find this out about your father and brother, but Anna reminded us that Roland is sick, not evil. If he can be helped and go back to being the man he was before all of this started, then we owe him the chance."
"I doubt if John would agree with that."
"I think that John wants that more than anything else in the world, Barbara," Anna said. Their eyes locked and Anna knew that Barbara was remembering their earlier conversation in the kitchen. Barbara had to know how desperately John wanted and needed his father's love and approval. Barbara finally looked away.
"Where is John?"
"Napping. I hope," Laura said. "He was very upset when you ran out. He thinks that you blame him for the fact that the two of you were sent away to boarding school."
"John finds it way to easy to feel guilty about things he has no control over," Barbara remarked.
Anna found herself nodding in agreement. The man she loved did have a tendency to take on guilt.
"Would it be all right if I go check on him?" Barbara asked her.
"Of course." Anna responded, feeling surprised that Barbara had asked her permission. Was this a sign that she was being accepted as a vital part of John's life? She hoped so. Then it occurred to her that the main person who needed to accept her had not yet done so. She still had no idea where she
stood with John.
Barbara slowly opened the door to John's room, then stepped inside and quietly pushed shut the door.
"Barbara?"
So her instincts had been right, and John wasn't asleep. It hurt her to hear the fear in his voice.
"Hey, John. I'm sorry I ran out earlier."
He struggled to get into a sitting position, but he wouldn't look at her. Couldn't. He didn't want to see the accusation in her eyes.
Barbara sat down on the edge of the bed. "It was wrong of me, but I was angry, and I didn't think it would be a good idea for me to stay in the room as long as I felt that way."
"You had every right to be angry. I ruined your life."
"Bullshit," she firmly said. He looked up at her then, uncertainty still in his eyes. Barbara continued. "You did no such thing, John. Sure, I bitched about boarding school, but I did get a great education out of it. I also learned
that I didn't need my family around in order for me to be happy."
"And you think that's a good thing?"
She shrugged. "Sometimes. I look at you and watch you struggle to get their acceptance and I wonder if it's worth it. Our family has never done anything to make you happy. I don't know if things would have been different if Bobby had not gotten leukemia or died. I mean, look at Chase and what he went through. And the rest of our cousins. They aren't very happy either."
"Our family was happy once. Before Bobby got sick."
Barbara shook her head. "You're the baby of the family, John. Your memories aren't always so clear. If you were happy, then it was because of Bobby, not because of Mom and Dad. I remember trying my best to be Dad's "golden little girl". I wanted nothing more than to be his favorite child. To make him happy
so we all could be happy. It never happened and it never will."
"I don't believe that, Barb," John earnestly said. "We can be a happy family if we want."
"I guess one of us has to be the believer, huh?" Barbara hastily wiped a tear from her cheek. She had burst into tears shortly after storming out of the apartment and cried for a long time. She should be all cried out by now, she thought.
"You know something? I used to feel so jealous because you and Bobby were so close after he got sick. It was bad enough that the two of you were always doing things together before then, but I figured that was just because you were both boys and just didn't want to hang out with your older sister. But, after Bobby got sick, the two of you would spend hours huddled together, talking and planning. Even when his health was at it's worst, Bobby would never hesitate to defend you. I remember one day I got so angry with him. You had done something -- I really don't remember now what it was. Probably a boy thing, like leaving the toilet seat up. I was so angry with you and I went to your room to yell at you. You weren't there, but Bobby was. I started yelling at him about you, and he started yelling back, telling me I was wrong to call you names and threatening to hit you." She shook her head. "This wasn't long after we found out that he would lash out and hit you for no reason. And I brought that up. I told him that he was the worst kind of hypocrite because he never hesitated to hit you if he felt angry or frustrated. Bobby got real quiet then. I really thought he was going to cry or something, he looked so defeated. Instead, he told me to get out and stay out and threatened me if I should yell at you or hit you." Barbara chewed on her lower lip as she watched John's face as she told her story. The sadness and pain there were painful to see and she wondered how it was possible for her to spend all those years not seeing it.
"I guess that Bobby never hit you, did he?"
John shook his head. "Bobby made that story up one day when we were at one of his doctor appointments. They saw my bruises and we couldn't tell them that Dad had been hitting me, so Bobby thought of that. We were both surprised that the doctors believed it. Doctors these days aren't so gullible."
"I'm sorry, Johnny. I should have known that you were being hurt. I'm the oldest and I should have been taking better care of you." She didn't even try to stop the tears this time.
"Hey, it wasn't your fault, Barbara. I should have..."
"Told an adult what was happening?"
John shook his head. "Been a better person."
"Now, I'm getting angry again. That's what made me so angry before -- hearing you blame yourself for something that was never your fault to begin with. Dad had no right to hit you. It was wrong and he knew it was wrong. They tell me that Grandfather is going to try to get Dad to go see a counselor. I don't know if it will do any good." She cleared her throat. "It seems to me that you're the one who needs to see a counselor. Have someone you don't know tell you what a good person you are and that none of the abuse was your fault."
John looked away. "The Chief of Staff wants me to see a psychiatrist about the accident. It seems that traumatic events like that can cause Post Traumatic Shock Syndrome, and he doesn't want that to happen to me. I've been putting it off because just going to physical therapy wears me out. I can't imagine how tiring it would be to add another doctor's visit to my schedule."
"I imagine that it would be the best thing you could do, John. Your body will heal. It always has. It's your heart and soul that needs the intensive therapy right now. You grew up being made to feel that any little wrong was your fault, and it wasn't. Now that you're an adult, you still feel that way. You can't stand it if people are angry with you. So much so that you'll do anything you can to make them like you again. To make them happy. That can't be good."
"Probably not. But, I don't see anything wrong with wanting people to be happy, Barbara."
"There isn't anything wrong with it. The problem is when you let their happiness, or rather their unhappiness, become the focus of your life. 'You' are not responsible for my happiness. I am. Me, and only me. You can make my life pleasant, you can make my life a living Hell, but you can't make me happy or unhappy. Those are my decisions. You need to reach the point where you can accept that about yourself."
"I understand what you're saying, I just don't see how it really applies to me. I am happy with my life and the choices I've made. I don't need a psychiatrist to tell me that."
"No, you need a psychiatrist to show you that you're not as happy as you pretend to be." Barbara stood, then leaned over and kissed him on his cheek. "I'll let you get back to the nap that you're not taking. Please promise me that you'll think about seeing a therapist of some kind? And I'm not talking a physical therapist, either."
John nodded and watched her leave his room. Barbara had raised a lot of valid points, and the doctor that he was knew that she was right about a lot of things. If he were his patient, then he would be giving the same advice. But, he wasn't his own patient. He wasn't some scared kid who loved his father despite the pain he was putting him through. He was...what was he? He had thought he had all the answers, but now he wasn't so sure. Was Barbara right in thinking that their family had never been happy? He could remember smiles and laughter. Love. All that disappeared when Bobby became ill. Had it been there as much as he remembered or was he just engaging in wishful thinking?
Hell, the truth of the matter was that he knew who he was. He was a scared adult who loved his father despite the pain he had put him through. He always would. Why couldn't people understand that? He felt the tears running down his face as he realized that he didn't even understand that. Why couldn't he be more like Doug Ross and hate his father for all the things he had done? Dismiss him as being of no worth to him any more. Kick Roland Carter out of his life because he just simply didn't need or want him around. But, he wasn't Doug Ross, and he didn't hate his father. He didn't want to kick him out of his life. If anything, he wanted him to be a larger part of it.
Maybe, just maybe, Barbara was right about him needing to see a therapist. What else was it that Barbara had mentioned about their Dad? That the family wanted Roland to see a therapist as well. John wiped away his tears, feeling somewhat heartened by that. If his father got help, then maybe he would change. Maybe he really could be the kind of father who would be there for his children -- and without them having to suffer through a life-threatening disease for him to be there. Maybe Roland Carter could one day look at him and say "John, I'm so happy that you weren't killed by that train. I'm proud that you're my son."
"Is John okay?" Anna asked as Barbara returned to the living room.
Barbara nodded. "I think so. We talked a bit and he promised to try to take a nap. He also promised to think about seeing a therapist."
"Well, that's good to hear," Laura said. She wanted to see her son really and truly happy.
"Now if only Robert can be as successful with Roland," Millicent said.
Laura refrained from commenting on that. She still didn't know how she felt about her husband. If, and that was a big if, there was some way that he could see that what he had done was wrong, then that would be a good thing. But, could she stay with him even if he did admit that he was wrong? Could she stay with him if he promised that he would change and then did change? She didn't know the answer to those questions and it scared her to think of how little she really knew about the man she had shared so many years of her life with. Had she really ever known him? Had there been something there that she should have seen when they were dating? Some sign that he would one day strike out at one of their children? His own flesh and blood. She could remember the day she told Roland she was pregnant for the third time. Neither one of them were excited about the idea. They had only planned on two children. God knew there were plenty of Carters to go around, so they didn't need to contribute any more little bodies to the family. And yet, neither one of them would even consider terminating the pregnancy. She had friends who went out of the country on an almost regular basis to abort their unwanted children. She had always been tactful, and wouldn't make any comments about their sudden trips, but the truth was that she thought they were being selfish. They were rich women, the cream of society and they could certainly afford to have children. But, babies and children would have ruined their waistlines or been inconveniences to their lifestyles.
So, the pregnancy had continued. And then John was born. She fell in love with him at first sight, but then again, she had done that with Barbara and Bobby. She was in the recovery room holding John and counting his fingers and toes when Roland came in to see them. He had kissed her tenderly, then carefully scooped his new born son up into his arms. She had looked up at the two of them and her she could see by the look on Roland's face that he didn't regret their decision to have John. There was love there. Real and deep. The same love that had been there when he first looked at Barbara and Bobby. She had never loved her husband more than she did at that point as she witnessed the love he had for his child.
So, when had all that changed? And why had she been so blind as to not see it? A mother took care of her children. She nurtured them and loved them. She saw to their hurts and comforted them. She didn't get so wrapped up in one of them that she ignored the needs of her other children -- but she had done just that. A mother didn't get so wrapped up in her own pain of having lost a child that she didn't see the pain of her other children -- but she had. Had she willfully turned a blind eye to what was going on or had she been too stupid to see what was right there in front of her face? She had never thought of herself as being a stupid woman, but right now she was wishing with all her heart that she had been stupid. The other alternative was too cruel to even think about. She was having a difficult enough time dealing with the fact that her husband had turned into a monster. How could she handle the knowledge that she was also one?