Maison Blanche Revisited

Chapter 5: Crimes of the Heart

ROMAN STARED out the hospital window, only dimly aware of the patches of blue sky starting to break through the hurricane gray. Every few minutes his eyes strayed to his watch: after almost four hours, there was still no word from the doctors about John. This was what he hated most about hospitals...the interminable waiting. Bo at least had found something to do--he’d been on the phone to Maison Blanche almost constantly, ostensibly filling everyone in on the news that there was no news yet, but Roman was sure he was calling just for the comfort of hearing the voice of the woman he loved. He himself could find no such comfort. The woman he loved was missing; he might never hear her voice again. He wanted to talk to her so badly. To tell her how much he loved her...to tell her he was sorry...to tell her--”

“Roman?”

“Ma?” He spun around, and was instantly enveloped in his mother’s embrace. Her touch finally cracked the shell which had been holding his emotions in check for so long, and he found himself sobbing in her arms. Then Shawn was there as well, and Roman surrendered totally to his grief and fear, unaware of Victor and Kate making a tactful withdrawal into the background so Shawn and Caroline could console their son in private.

Bo was on the phone when he saw his parents, accompanied by Victor and Kate, emerge from the elevator. Quickly making his good-byes to Billie, he hurried down the corridor, but halted a discreet distance away when he saw the emotional state Roman was in. A few moments later he was joined by Victor and Kate, both of their faces tight with worry.

“Bo. Is there any news yet?” Victor’s strained voice betrayed his anxiety.

He shook his head. “No. But the nurses say it shouldn’t be much longer. I hope to God they’re right. John’s so weak...they’ve got to do something soon.

“Was he conscious at all? Were you able to talk to him?”

Bo shook his head again. “No. Roman said he was unconscious when they found him. But he was able to tell us what happened.

“What do you mean?”

“He wrote it down.” Reaching into his pocket, Bo pulled out the bloody letters Roman had given him after the doctor had finished with them. He had read and reread them many times over the last four hours, and each time the pain and despair tore at his heart. He offered the pages to Victor. “Someone smuggled paper and a pencil in to him. He wrote these letters to Roman, then hid them under his shackles so they’d be found if and when his body was ever found. He described everything that happened.”

Victor took the papers in hand and started to read. By the time he had turned the last page, his face was dark with anger. “That bastard!” he grated. “I’ll find him if it’s the last thing I ever do! I’ll tear him apart with my bare hands!”

Curt words sounded from behind him. “I’m afraid you’ll have to wait in line, Vic.” Roman’s eyes were red, but his voice was as cold as ice. “Bo and I have first claim. You can have whatever’s left--but it won’t be much. I promise you.”

Her face clouded with worry, Caroline laid her hand on his arm. “Roman, please don’t talk like that. Not here, not now. Right now, we have to think about John.”

Roman stared down at her, eyes flinty. “I am thinking about John, Ma. You haven’t read his letters, you haven’t seen what that monster did him. This time Stefano is not getting away with it. This time, he’s going to pay...he’s going to pay for everything.”

Caroline bit her lip at his vicious tone, but didn’t press the matter. Shawn, meanwhile, had seen the papers in Victor’s hand. “Could I see those?” he asked quietly.

Victor silently passed them over, and Shawn led Caroline to a waiting-area sofa, where they huddled side by side over the bloody pages. Moisture sprang to their eyes as they followed John’s account of suffering and despair, and at the end, they clung to each other in anguish, tears flowing freely down their cheeks.

Forty minutes after the group from Salem arrived, the anxious hours of waiting finally came to an end. Roman leaped to his feet as he saw the tall figure of Dr. Harris approach, accompanied by a much shorter, much older man. The others also rose as the pair neared.

“Capt. Brady, Detective Brady,” Dr. Harris said, gesturing toward his companion, “this is Dr. Rosenthal, our Chief of Psychiatry. I’ve asked him to consult on John’s case. Dr. Rosenthal, this is Captain Roman Brady and his brother, Bo.”

The white haired man with the lined face inclined his head. “Gentlemen.”

“Dr. Rosenthal.” Roman acknowledged the psychiatrist in return, then made his own introductions. “Dr. Harris, I’d like you to meet John’s father-in-law, Victor Kiriakis; Victor’s fiancee, Kate Roberts; and my parents, Shawn and Caroline Brady. They just arrived from Salem.”

“I’m glad you’re all here,” Harris said. “We’ve finished John’s tests, and I’m afraid you have a difficult decision to make. If you’ll come with me, I’ll explain.” He then led the way to a small conference room.

When everyone was seated, Harris dimmed the overhead lights and turned on a row of light boxes on the wall. Pulling a film from a large envelope, he clipped it to one of the boxes. It showed the picture of a skull. “John is in critical condition,” he stated. “The first injury he sustained was a hairline skull fracture.” Taking a pointer, he traced a thin line on the right side of the picture. “Luckily it wasn’t a severe fracture, but it was a tremendous shock to his system. Before he had a chance to recover from that, his body was subjected to more trauma in the form of drugs and beatings and starvation, and the cumulative effect was devastating. Even so, if it weren’t for the drugs, I believe he’d have a good chance for survival. Those drugs, however, tip the scales in the other direction. Our toxicology lab was able to identify most of the contents of the bottles recovered from the basement, and it turns out they contained not only mind-altering drugs, but a nasty combination of heavy metals. Heavy metals,” he explained, “work on the body like slow-acting poison. They settle in various organs, seriously impairing their function and eventually destroying the organs completely. That is what is happening to John right now.” He pulled out another film and held it to the light. “See these three dark areas?...here, and here and here? Those are John’s liver and his kidneys. One kidney has already been destroyed, and the other is functioning at only half its capacity. The liver is also badly damaged, but not quite as severely as the kidneys.”

The sudden silence that fell over the room was broken by a quiet question from Roman. “Can you do anything to help him?”

“We’re trying, but I’m going to be honest with you...as things stand now, it doesn’t look good. We’ve already started preliminary treatment, but where we go from here is going to be up to you to decide as a family. And I’m afraid it’s going to be a very difficult decision.” As his audience absorbed that news, Harris took a seat at the table and steepled his fingers in front of him. “When we realized what was happening,” he continued, “we immediately put John on dialysis to take the strain off the remaining kidney. We also began a course of drugs to purge the heavy metals from his system. That’s a very slow process though, and the only sure way to prevent further damage--quite probably fatal damage--from occurring before the drugs can take effect is immediate surgery. We need to remove the non-functioning kidney and the damaged portion of the liver. If we could do that successfully, his chances of recovering would go up enormously. The surgery itself, however, presents us with a huge problem: even under optimum conditions, an operation of this type is risky. In John’s case, it’s more than just risky...his body is so debilitated there’s a strong possibility he wouldn’t survive it. But if we don’t perform surgery, I believe he’ll die within the next twenty-four hours.” He contemplated the family soberly. “That’s the decision you’re going to have to make: whether or not you want us to attempt the surgery.”

The family exchanged grim glances, then turned their attention back to Harris. In unspoken agreement, Roman again spoke for them all. “How long do we have to decide?”

Harris looked at his watch. “I’m afraid the most I can give you is ten minutes. If you do opt for the surgery, we need to get started as soon as possible. And also, Dr. Rosenthal will have to get some information from you which could significantly affect how we approach the surgery.” He turned to his colleague. “Isaac, why don’t you and I step outside and give these people a chance to talk.” Rosenthal nodded, and the two doctors got up from the table and exited the room, leaving a tense silence in their wake.

Victor finally cleared his throat. “I don’t see that we have any choice here,” he said hoarsely. “John will die without the surgery. That much we know. We just can’t let him slip away without trying to do something. My vote is yes.” He looked at the anguished faces gathered around the table, at the tightly clenched jaws and hands. “Bo?”...“Yes.” ..... “Roman?”...“Yes.” ..... “Caroline?”...“Yes.” ..... “Shawn?”...“Yes.” ..... “Kate?”...“Yes.”

Roman stood up. “I guess we have our answer. I’ll tell the doctor.” He left the room and returned moments later, followed by Harris and Rosenthal. The three resumed their seats and Harris once again addressed the family. “For what it’s worth, I think you made the right decision. And now, as I said earlier, Dr. Rosenthal needs to talk to you before we begin surgery.” He turned to his companion. “Isaac, you have the floor.”

“Thank you, Nolan.” As the white-haired psychiatrist swept his dark gaze around the table, Roman had a sinking feeling that whatever he had to say, it wasn’t good. He braced himself for more bad news.

“Ladies, gentlemen,” Rosenthal began shortly, “I’m going to be blunt. You won’t like it, but John is now my patient, and my first concern has to lie with him.” He turned to Roman. “I know your wife is missing, Captain Brady, and I’m sorry, but I have to say that I’m appalled by the way she conducted herself professionally. One of the cardinal rules of psychiatry is never to treat family or close friends. Your wife committed a serious breach of ethics by taking John on as a patient, and it had devastating consequences...not only for the two of them, but for your entire family.

“The patient/therapist relationship is a very precarious one. The therapist must support the patient, but resist becoming personally involved. This is especially important in a case like John’s. Amnesia victims are very vulnerable and fragile people. Because of their loss of identity, they develop an almost pathological need to have someone strong and supportive in their lives whom they can depend on. Isabella obviously performed that function for John, and after she died, he had to get that support from someone else...he literally couldn’t help himself. It was only natural that he turn to his therapist for help, but in this case, his therapist was also his ex-wife.” Rosenthal shook his head sadly. “It was an impossible situation, and it had ‘disaster’ written all over it right from the start. I firmly believe the affair would never have happened if someone else had been treating John, and if it were up to me, Captain Brady, your wife would lose her medical license over this.”

There was dead silence as the family absorbed this condemnation of Marlena, but even more shocks lay ahead.

“Now about John’s current condition. Dr. Harris performed the physical examination and asked me to evaluate his emotional and mental state. As I said, amnesiacs are very fragile. I read John’s letters, and I’m greatly concerned that he spoke about ‘praying to die’ and ‘accepting that he was going to die’. This is not a good sign. Has he ever attempted suicide or talked about wanting to die before?”

“No!” “Of course not!” The chorus of nays rang out around the table, but came to an abrupt halt as one quiet voice answered, “Yes.”

All eyes converged on the owner of that voice. “Bo, what are you saying!?” Caroline cried. “John would never try to kill himself!”

“Isabella told me when she got sick,” he replied softly. “She was afraid of what he might do after she died, and she asked me to watch out for him. She didn’t want anyone else to know.”

Rosenthal broke the stunned silence. “Do you know specifically what happened?” he probed gently.

Bo nodded. “There were three incidents Isabella told me about, and another one I witnessed myself.” He turned to his family. “The first time was the night we got the DNA results. You remember,” he said, staring accusingly at Roman. “John ran out of the house, and the ISA and the police were hunting for him to arrest him.” Roman looked slightly shame-faced as Bo continued. “John later told Isabella he was just driving around in circles in his car. He was crying, he didn’t know what to do or where to go. He hadn’t done anything wrong, but he had just lost everything and felt everyone had turned against him.” His gaze swung to Caroline. “Especially you, Ma,” he told her quietly, as tears streamed down her cheeks. “He trusted you more than anyone else in the world. You hurt him so badly, tricking him the way you did. He might have gone to you for help if it hadn’t been for that.” Bo paused to collect himself, then turned back to the whole group. “Anyway, after driving around for about an hour, he stopped the car and pulled out his gun. He put the barrel to his head and sat there for about twenty minutes, trying to come up with a reason not to kill himself. And he finally found one. He hit on the idea that the ISA had tampered with the test results. That way, he could still believe he was Roman Brady and still give himself something to live for. And that belief managed to get him through, at least until we found Stefano and he was finally forced to accept the truth. But by that time, he had found something else to live for...Isabella told him she was pregnant.

“The next two incidents weren’t as bad, but Isabella said they really scared her. One happened after her car went into the river and she almost drowned, and the second was after she got stuck in that snow storm and almost lost the baby. Both times, John told her she was all he had and he would die if anything happened to her and the baby. And she believed him.

“That’s why, when she got sick, she was so scared of what he might do after she died. And she was right. The night after he got back from Italy, after burying Isabella, I found him on the roof of the loft. He was standing by the edge and I thought he was going to jump. I managed to get him back inside and spent all night talking to him. I told Marlena about it the next morning and she said she’d help him.”

Rosenthal pounced on that last statement. “Are you saying Dr. Evans knew he was suicidal?”

“Yes. I told her everything Isabella told me, and about what happened on the roof.”

Rosenthal sighed and shook his head in disbelief. “This is incredible,” he muttered to himself. “What in God’s name was she thinking?” He addressed the family again. “I’m afraid Dr. Evans’ professional lapse is even worse than I thought. I read her case history on John that accompanied the rest of his medical records, and she made no mention of a suicide attempt, even though she knew about it. In my mind, that constitutes almost criminal negligence. In omitting that fact from his file, she quite literally put his life in danger. If you hadn’t been here today, Mr. Brady,” he spoke to Bo, “I would have known nothing about his suicide attempts. I would have wrongly assumed that the remarks he made in his letters about dying were nothing more than a very natural response to an intolerable situation. If that was the case, once he was removed from that situation, he would no longer have any reason to want to die. But the fact that he has been suicidal before sheds a whole new light on the matter. At this point, I’m very much afraid that John not only believes he no longer has any reason to stay alive, he actually believes it would be better for everyone he loves if he were dead.”

“No!” Caroline gasped, “how could he think that? We love him...we need him...he’s part of our family.”

“John doesn’t believe that, Mrs. Brady. Not anymore. He thinks you hate him now, because of the affair, and in his mind you have every right to hate him. He blames himself for ruining your family, Captain Brady, which in my opinion is a totally wrong assumption. Ninety-nine percent of the fault for that affair belongs to Dr. Evans: she was his psychiatrist, she was the one who was supposed to be in control. She had to have known John would subconsciously turn to her as an emotional replacement for Isabella, and she did nothing to prevent that. She let her own feelings get in the way of her professional judgment, and John was the one who suffered as the result. Now, he not only blames himself for the affair, more importantly, he blames himself for not being able to protect Dr. Evans. Again, as with Isabella, she had become the most important person in his life...and just like with Isabella, he could do nothing to save her. In John’s mind, he deserves to die. He can’t protect the people he loves, he sees his presence in your lives as causing nothing but pain and disruption. He thinks if he dies, your family--the family he loves--can go back to normal. That is unlikely to happen, of course, but that is what he believes. And if he goes into surgery with that attitude, the best doctors and all the prayers in the world won’t be able to pull him through.”

“So you’re saying John isn’t going to survive no matter what you do?” Victor demanded.

“No, sir.” Rosenthal replied. “What I’m saying is that we have to change John’s attitude. Before he goes into surgery, we have to make him want to live instead of wanting to die.”

“But how can you do that? He’s unconscious.”

“Actually...” the psychiatrist paused, glancing around the table, “I’m not going to do it--you are. All of you. John is unconscious, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s unaware. He knows you, he knows your voices. He wouldn’t respond to me, but he may respond to you. I want you to talk to him. Tell him he’s wrong: tell him you still want him and need him in your lives, that he’s still a valued member of your family. Tell him you love him, and most important of all, tell him you forgive him. If he believes that, he just might have a chance.”

“When can we see him?” Caroline asked anxiously.

“Just a moment.” Rosenthal looked at his watch and held a brief whispered conversation with Harris, then turned back to the family. “John has about twenty minutes of dialysis left before we can prep him for surgery. We can let you see him right now, one a time, for a few minutes each.”

“Then why are we sitting here? Let’s go.” Grabbing her purse, Caroline shot up from her chair and almost ran for the door. The rest of the family was not far behind.

to be continued...

© 1998 by Ruth Stout - All Rights Reserved

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