Blurred Lines

Chapter 5 - White Liar

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The truth comes out a little at a time

And it spreads just like a fire

Slips off of your tongue like turpentine

And I don't know why, white liar

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August 10, 1992

Dr. Marlena Evans Office, Salem University Hospital

Marlena glanced up from her paperwork with a smile when John knocked softly, and poked his head inside her office. His dark hair was mussed, and his neck tie was loosened. He was the perfect picture of adorable and sexy. She hadn't been expecting him until Friday. A grin stretched across his face, "Gretchen wasn't at her desk, but I brought sandwiches." He held up a brown paper bag containing an italian sub for Marlena, and a pastrami on rye for him. "You hungry?"

"How did you know I was starving?" she laughed. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear nervously, and ran her hands over her skirt to make sure she wasn't wrinkled. It was too late to fix anything about her appearance, but that didn't stop her from trying.

"Because, Doc, I know you," he told her, slipping inside, and closing the door behind him. She was beautiful, even nearly six months pregnant, she was amazing. It was possible that pregnancy made her even more beautiful. That was a regret he would always have. Not knowing what she might look like in the light of the moon, full and round with his baby. Pushing the thoughts away, he smiled, "And you are notorious for forgetting to eat." His eyes landed on her growing abdomen with a bittersweet longing as she stood up. His voice was rough as he tried to sound teasing, "Besides, Doc, you're eating for two now."

Marlena's eyes lit up with a bright smile. He knew her so well. She couldn't spend too much time dwelling on the fact that John took better care of her than her own husband did. His frequent phone calls, and his dropping by with meals. The way he softly asked after her health or the children. She rounded her desk, approaching the couch, and kicked off her shoes, sinking into the overstuffed cushions with a sigh. She needed a break. She found herself so often burying herself in work to keep her mind off of the nagging doubts that seemed to plague her. "I am eating for two, and I don't remember being this tired with the twins," she told him, propping her feet on the coffee table.

John stared at her feet for a moment, small, with perfectly rounded toes. He found himself fascinated by the way her stockings wrapped around them. Blinking his eyes several times, he turned his attention to the food, and started pulling the sandwiches from the deli bag. He handed Marlena two individually wrapped pickle spears. "For you, Doc... two pickles. Yours... and, because you love them so much lately... I'll let you have mine."

"I can have both?" Marlena's eyes went wide as she reached for them excitedly, tearing the paper, and biting into one of them with fervor. As the sourness burst over her tongue, Marlena moaned, and John almost shivered when he heard her. With a mouth full of pickle, she mumbled, "How did I never know how much I love pickles? I swear I've gone through a whole jar this week."

"I'm certain this is a fairly new occurrence for you. When Isabella was pregnant with Brady, it was boiled eggs," John laughed, shrugging his suit coat off and hanging it over the chair next to the sofa. "I think she must have gone through two dozen a week. The loft would reek of them." He watched with an odd sort of joy, as Marlena continued eating her pickles happily until the last bite was gone.