A Family Matter
Part Eight
By Martha Mills
martheeny@yahoo.com

Thanks also to Sharon, Debbie, Cathy and Ally for their invaluable feedback, encouragement and support. And to everyone else who sent along a kind message, or enjoyed this story.

Note: This story was somewhat inspired by a movie called "Liar’s Moon." I highly recommend it.

Abbie stared out her office window. That was one of the things she liked about Chicago. She actually had an office. She thought she could see County General, way off in the distance, but she wasn’t completely sure. "Why did I even come in today?" she said to nobody in particular. The whole floor was practically deserted. She couldn’t get anything done. All her thoughts kept drifting back to John Carter.

She thought back to the night before. John had been so upset telling her about his ordeal. She had actually told him the truth about the marks on her legs, hoping to make him feel more at ease. Always in the past, if someone asked her about them, she would either lie, or change the subject. Yes, there was something about John. She trusted him.

But then there was Roland. He was odd. She had noticed him staring at her several times during the course of their dinner together. He would look at her as if he knew all about her. Spooky. She’d be glad if she didn’t see him again for a long, long time.

It occurred to her that her mother hadn’t called her back, like she had said she would. She hoped Peggy wasn’t on another bender. It wasn’t real often, but every three months or so, her mom would get falling down drunk. Abbie picked up the phone. She wanted to call and make sure everything was okay. It rang two times, and the machine picked up. After the beep, Abbie said, "Mom? If you’re there, pick up." She paused. "Okay, well, I’ll call you later on. I have some good news. Love you."

John was having a hard time concentrating on work, as well. He had decided to confront his father, face to face, man to man. He was prepared to shut Roland out of his life completely, if that’s what it came to. Abbie meant that much to him.

Roland was tired. He had been reviewing the dossier on Abbie Carmichael for an hour now, and he couldn’t find much to threaten her with. He wondered if his private investigator had dug deep enough. Everyone had skeletons in their pasts. The only item that even warranted a second look was a rumor that she had been involved with her boss, Jack McCoy, for the past year or so. But it couldn’t be confirmed, and McCoy was single. Where was the sin in that? Roland knew all too well that the workplace could be a "hotbed" of passion. Late nights. Working dinners. Hell, he knew the routine. He tossed the file on his desk, in disgust.

His thoughts drifted to his wife, upstairs. Laura had been exhausted upon her return from Paris, and after dinner, she went straight to bed. He considered heading upstairs...waking her up. They had been travelling separately for what, six weeks now? Not that Roland had been lonely. He wasn’t as promiscuous as when he was younger, but he still had a few tricks up his sleeve. "Down my trousers is more like it," he smiled.

Just then, Roland saw headlights coming up the driveway. "Good Lord. It’s after midnight. Who in the world?" A minute later, he could see John walking toward the house. Roland quickly went to the front door to make sure he didn’t ring the doorbell, and wake Edward, or worse, Laura. He got there in the nick of time.

He opened the door, and held his hand out to stop John from coming in. "Do you know how late it is? You could have called."

"We’re going to talk. Now." John had a fire in his eyes. He pushed his way past his father, into the foyer. Almost yelling, he asked "Who died and made you God, Dad? What gives you the fucking right to control my life like it’s a goddamned puppet show?!?" His voice resounded through the house.

"Keep it down!" Roland was worried that he’d get Laura out of bed. "We settled all this earlier. Abbie Carmichael is a money-grubbing piece of white-Texas-trash. She is not a Carter. She was not born and raised a Carter. The past has to stay in the past, John."

John wasn’t following everything his father said. "What the hell are you talking about? I know she’s not a Carter, Dad. That’s one of her good qualities! I can’t believe you would try to pay her off! Do you know how that makes me feel?!?" His rage was building, as he remembered the message Roland had left on her machine.

Roland laughed. "Everything has to be about you, doesn’t it, John?" His face turned evil. "You’re pathetic. It’s none of your concern. This is about me, protecting your mother from the truth. Why do you want to hurt her? You know, it really bothers me that you would put this...stranger before the interests of your own family. If you’re going to pursue this, then you are not welcome in this house."

John realized there was more going on than he had thought. Why would he need to hide his girlfriend from his mother? She had always been supportive of his relationships. "What is your version of the truth, Dad?" John had a poker face. He had to get more information. If Roland thought that John didn’t know this "secret" already, it would be buried forever.

"Come into the study. Please." Once both men were inside, Roland closed the door. He tried to put a spin on things that would appease John. "Look, I regret the circumstances around Ms. Carmichael’s birth. It was reckless on my part, to be unfaithful to your mother." His face softened. "C’mon, son. You know how it is. I was in Lubbock. Your mother was here, in Chicago with you and Bobby. A man has needs. Abbie’s mother was my secretary, and things happened. Well, you know the story, I’m sure. How could I possibly have claimed Abbie as my own daughter? It would have de-" He stopped short as he caught a glimpse of John’s face. "John?"

John was sick to his stomach. He felt the blood drain from his face. "Did you say ‘daughter’? Abbie is your daughter?" As the pieces clicked together in his head, he sunk to his knees, and hid his face in his hands. "No!" He shook his head in disbelief. "It’s not true, dad. It can’t be true because I love her. I love her, and you’re saying she’s your daughter, and I don’t believe you." John sounded as though he was trying to convince himself.

It was Roland’s turn to lose his color. "Oh god. You didn’t know! I was sure that you-"

John slowly picked himself up off the floor. He stared his father in the eye and shouted, "YOU ARE STANDING THERE TELLING ME THAT ABBIE IS MY SISTER! THE WOMAN I LOVE IS MY SISTER! THE WOMAN THAT I_" He stopped short.

Roland started toward him. "John, calm down! You-"

John didn’t stick around to listen. He ran out, slamming the door behind him as hard as he could.

A moment later, Roland heard the jeep peel out of the driveway. He realized the horror of the situation. John was involved with his biological sister. He had never felt so powerless in his life.

END PART EIGHT.