Unspoken

Chapter 17

October 23, 1992

The week leading up to Isabella's burial had been a complete blur for John. He had allowed Marlena to take care of the arrangements, which she had planned ahead with Isabella. Two days earlier, with Isabella's body secured in the cargo hold of the plane, they'd all flown south to Naples. There was a family estate down there that had belonged to Isabella's mother. It was a sprawling cliffside villa overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. In any other situation he might have been awed by the beauty of the place - three stories, a massive library, and a salt water pool. Instead he was numb, feeling unable to express any emotion.

His initial grief had given way to something he didn't understand. He kept thinking - I can't do this again. Flashbacks of the house in Salem after Orpheus bombed it, and dreams of Marlena's plane crashing haunted him whether awake or asleep. All of it was interspersed with the sounds of Isabella's last breaths, the feel of her body twitching in his arms long after she was gone, and the vacant look in her eyes which remained staring into his soul until Marlena gently lowered her lids. Isabella's death had triggered something deep inside him that had him retreating further and further inside himself, and he realized he was growing more desperate to feel something. Anything at all.

Isabella had wanted to be buried with her mother and her sister. That was how he found himself standing on a hill, overlooking Naples, as he stared at the spot where Isabella was buried. The soil was rounded, fresh with the smell of the earth. Beside her were the graves of her mother and her sister. All of them too young to die. He wiped his eyes wondering how a man could cry, and still feel so dead inside. Yet, he couldn't seem to stop them.

He relaxed slightly when he felt Marlena's soft hand caress his back gently. He hadn't realized she'd come back. "Do you want to stay longer?"

Turning to face her, he saw that she had Brady in her arms. He'd forgotten that Brenda had left that morning. He'd barely spent any time with his son since Isabella's death. Looking at Brady was difficult, because he looked so much like his mother. John touched his son's face gently, whispering, "Hey, slugger."

"Would you like to hold him?" Marlena asked him. She didn't want to force the issue, but John couldn't continue to avoid his son either. "I think he's been missing you... missing his mother."

"I'm ready to go now," he said quietly, reaching for Brady, and running his hand over the boy's face gently. Brady stared up at his father, giving that goofy, toothless grin he loved. John smiled at him, saying, "You're missing your mama, huh? I miss her too."

Marlena had watched John over the month and a half since Isabella was diagnosed. He'd started the grieving process from the start. He'd dealt with denial, anger, and bargaining. The man she watched turn to walk down the hill was in the throes of depression, and Marlena was scared that he might shut down completely. She picked up her step to catch up with him, and she reached for his free hand. Threading her fingers through his, she said, "Let's go home."

John looked over at her, tears still shining in his eyes, "Home?"

She was quiet for a few moments as they walked in silence. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, and the temperature was in the mid seventies. It was much warmer than Venice. As they neared the car, she nodded at the driver, indicating that they were ready to go. To John, she said gently, "Right now I mean the villa, but we can talk about the next step if you want to. How long you want to stay in Naples, and what you'd like to do when you are ready to leave."

"Leave?" he asked. "I'm so fucking lost, Doc." He adjusted Brady in his arms, and kissed the top of his downy head. He looked down at their hands, and then back up at her, saying, "I don't know how I would manage this without you."