Unspoken

Chapter 12

October 6, 1992

John made his way down the hallway towards his bedroom with Isabella. He'd left her asleep, and Brady was napping in his room. During that time he'd managed to get in forty five minutes of cardio. Five miles on the treadmill wasn't his idea of an optimal workout. He preferred to run around Salem, that way the scenery was always changing. Running on a treadmill was boring beyond belief, but he hadn't been working out regularly since they'd arrived in Italy, and ordering the treadmill was his best option. It had just arrived that morning. He could feel the rush in his body. He'd needed that workout.

He poked his head inside Brady's room when he noticed the door was ajar, and he quickly realized Brady wasn't there. He'd probably woken up, which meant he was with Marlena. He smiled to himself thinking about the care with which she took care of his son. He'd check on Isabella, and then go find them. Just outside his bedroom he paused. The door was half open, and he could hear voices inside.

Next to the bed Marlena stood with Brady. Isabella was laying on her side, too weak to do much, but she'd woken up and wanted to spend time with her son. Marlena had been kind enough to scoop the sleeping boy out of his crib, and bring him to her. She watched with a gentle smile as Marlena laid him in the center of the bed. He was so small, and soft, smelling like lotion and baby powder. Her voice was barely above a whisper. "Thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," Marlena replied gently, settling Brady next to his mother. Isabella was dying. She could ask for anything and Marlena would say yes, just so that she would die happy. "This time with him is so precious."

Isabella smoothed her hand along his back, noting the way he tucked his knees under himself as he slept. His little bum was up in the air, and his lips were slack with sleep. His hair had grown. He was going to have John's blue eyes, and her chestnut curls. She could tell. His features were not her or John, but she assumed he looked like the man John used to be... before Stefano DiMera changed his face forever.

"Do you ever wonder what John used to look like?" she asked Marlena.

Marlena stared down at Brady, as she settled onto the other side of the bed. "I've wondered."

Isabella was quiet for a moment as she studied the other woman. She regretted a lot of her actions when it came to Marlena. She looked uncomfortable, sitting on the edge of the bed the way she was. She stretched her arm out to get Marlena's attention, saying, "You should kick your shoes off, and get comfortable. I don't want you to go anywhere. If Brady were to roll or–"

Marlena's shoes hit the fancy Italian carpet with a soft thud, and she curled up on the bed facing Isabella. She was too tired to argue. After her phone call with the twins, she'd been up half the night thinking about her conversation with John, and her argument with Roman. Laying down for even a moment was a chance to rest.

She watched Isabella with her son. A mother's love knew no bounds, and it must be heartbreaking for Isabella knowing that she was dying. She ran her fingers over her son's feet with an expression of sadness and love. It was difficult for Marlena knowing that there was no way to stop the movement of time. Isabella would die. John would grieve, and Brady would not understand why his mother was gone.

Isabella lifted her brown eyes to find Marlena watching her. "I think Brady's going to look like John, and it's odd, you know? He's going to grow up, and look like his father... but we don't know what John used to look like." She chuckled softly, but then started coughing, and Marlena could hear the congestion in her chest. Death was nearing whether they were ready or not.

"Do you need some water?" she asked, starting to get up.

"No. No... just stay here with me," Isabella whispered. "I wanted to talk... to ask you something. I feel like I should have tried to understand you more when you came home."