Disclaimer: Characters contained within do not belong to me.
Author's Notes: I owe many thanks to Cincoflex and Mingsmommy for walking through this story with me. And thank you for stopping by to read it:)
The Reclamation of Sara Sidle
by Kristen Elizabeth
I am changing
I'll be better than I am
I'm trying to find a way to understand
But I need you…
- Dreamgirls
Chapter One: A House is Not a Home
It's not hard to find Laura Sidle, even though her last name is Worthington now. When Sara shows up on the stoop of the townhouse her mother shares with her second husband, Laura doesn't ask questions. She hasn't seen Sara in almost eleven years, but she knows the look in her eyes.
Her daughter is reaching the end of some invisible rope and Laura is determined to help her hang on.
An invitation for Sara to stay at the house rather than a hotel is neither requested, nor extended; it's automatically assumed, and for Laura, it's the way things are going to be.
She only has one bag, but she seems hesitant about setting it down in the guest room Laura shows her to, as if by doing that, she'll be setting down permanent roots that she isn't quite ready to plant.
"I don't want to be any trouble," she says when Laura offers tea, coffee, or something stronger.
"Trouble? You're my daughter, Sara."
That's all it takes for Sara's dam to burst and for the next hour, Laura holds her youngest child while she cries. She hears a name mixed into her daughter's sobs, but it's muffled and faint. Will, maybe. Or Bill.
"You'll stay as long as you want," Laura firmly tells her. "As long as you need."
There's so much she wants to know about this woman to whom she gave birth. So much she needs to tell her.
But right then, Sara needs a little bit of food and a whole lot of rest.
She needs to be mothered.
The window in the guest room of her mother's townhouse overlooks the foggy Bay. For the past week, ever since her arrival, Sara has woken up to a slate-grey sky and rolling dark waves. On relatively clear mornings, she can just make out Alcatraz in the distance.
It might be the one place on Earth that looks as lonely as she feels in those first waking moments.
It's funny how her dreams are never pleasant, but she still hasn't learned that things won't be any better when she wakes up, because he won't be lying beside her. She's come to realize that there is nothing sadder than a double bed with only one pillow.
But then there's always a knock on her door to jar her out of any impending melancholy. Laura has a sixth sense for when Sara's awake, and she enters almost before Sara invites her in.
"Good morning!" She always comes bearing a tray. That morning, it's fresh fruit, toast and scrambled eggs. Her mother has remembered to leave off the bacon, and that makes Sara smile. "Did you sleep well?"
Laura has asked this every morning, somehow needing the peace of mind that Sara's mind was peaceful in sleep. And Sara always lies. It's just easier. "Like a baby."
She's hungry, and that's something new. Laura sits on the edge of the bed while Sara eats. "What do you have planned for today?"
Sara spears a grape with her fork; she's been thinking about this for days, but has only now worked up the courage to ask. "I want to go to the old house." She pauses. "Will you come with me?"
"It's a long drive," Laura hesitates, worry flashing across her gently wrinkled brow. "Are you sure, Sara?
Suddenly, her breakfast isn't looking so good, or settling so well in her stomach. "No," Sara admits. "But I'm going anyway."
After a moment, Laura nods. "Then…I'll go, too."
While her mother is cleaning up downstairs, Sara takes a long, hot shower. Every time she closes her eyes under the spray, she expects to open them and find Grissom standing next to her, naked, wet and reaching for the soap.
There's a light drizzle all the way to Tomales Bay. It's the first time Sara's seen rain since the night in the desert, and it takes all of her willpower to focus on the twisting, coastal road in front of her.
Laura is quiet in the passenger's seat of her own Cadillac. It's a welcome change; usually her mother is either pumping Sara for information about her life, or oversharing information about her own.
To be fair, it does ease her mind to see how well her mother is doing. Happily married to businessman who's currently on a trip to Tokyo, but who clearly adores Laura given the fact that he calls at least twice a day, a big, beautiful townhouse with an ocean view….her mother is living the life she should have had all along. Sara recognizes happiness now. It's what she has to find again before she can go home.
"Have you ever been back?" she asks her mother, breaking the silence. "Since that night?"
"Once." Laura isn't comfortable with the question or her answer judging by the twitch in her eye. "After I got out."
"How was it?"
It's another moment before her answer comes. "Excruciating."
Sara isn't afraid of the pain she might be inflicting on herself. It's better than being numb.
They arrive at lunch time, but Sara isn't hungry. Her stomach is still battling to digest her breakfast...and losing. Four Rolaids and she has not found relief.
From the edge of town, it's another ten minutes to Seashore Lane. The house still sits in the middle of the street, weather-worn perhaps, but structurally the same as in Sara's nightmares. It's probably been painted several times since the Sidles last occupied it, but currently it's a nauseating shade of foam green. A "for sale" sign is posted in the front yard, and there are no cars in the driveway.
Mother and daughter sit in the comfort of the Cadillac for a long time before they get out. Shells and rocks crunch under their feet as they approach the front door. Sara touches the brass knocker, and suddenly she's terribly cold. She looks at her mother and sees that her eyes are closed, her face screwed up, lost in the pain of that last night.
No wonder the house is for sale. Her father is still here. They can't be the only ones to feel that.
"Why was that night different?" Sara asks before she loses her nerve.
Laura's eyes are wet when she opens them. "It wasn't the night that was different, Sara. It was me."
"What made you change?"
Her mother's reply is simple. "You." Laura tries to smile, but doesn't quite make it. "You didn't run and hide like you usually did. You stood right there and watched him hit me. And I thought…how can I let her grow up thinking this is normal?"
Bile is rising up in Sara's throat. "You could have packed us up and left him. It didn't have to end like…like it did."
"I've had a lot of years to wrestle with that, Sara. And the only conclusion my shrink and I have arrived at is this: I was only strong enough to pick up the knife."
The caw of a seagull fills the silence. "How did it start?" Sara finally asks. These are questions she's had in her heart for long; her chest feels emptier now that they're out in the open.
"How does it ever start, Sara? A harsh word here and there that you overlook." Laura lifts her shoulders. "You tell yourself you're being too sensitive when he says you're stupid, you can't do anything right, you're fat, ugly, a bad wife. But for all of that…when the first slap or punch comes…you can't believe he actually did it. You tell yourself you deserved it. He promises it'll never happen again…and for some reason you let yourself believe that." She stops for a breath. "It only takes a few times for you to get used to it. But you love him. He's the father of your children. You have to think about them. Where would you take them? If you leave, he'll come after you. You won't be able to protect them. So it's better to just stay…keep trying to make him happy. And maybe one day…he'll stop."
"You realized he wouldn't that night?"
Laura inclines her head. "I just couldn't stand who I'd become, Sara. I saw you making all of my mistakes someday because you didn't have a better example. I did what I had to do." She nods with certainty. "Maybe it's the years of therapy or finally being in a loving relationship…or seeing you grown up and so beautiful…but I have very few regrets."
Sara needs fresh air. She walks away a few paces, ignoring her mother when she calls for her. Laura catches up with her at the end of the cul-de-sac, and at the edge of the cliff that overlooks the churning Pacific.
"I'm glad you don't have regrets, Mom," Sara says, her words muffled by the battering wind. "But if it's okay with you, I have a few I'd like to get off my chest."
She reaches for Sara's hand and jumps when her daughter jerks it out of her reach. "Okay, Sara. Tell me."
"I regret that you did what you did for me and Mark and not for yourself. I regret that you pled guilty instead of fighting to clear your name. I regret that I lived with eight different families in the space of four years. I regret that you didn't come to my high school graduation. I regret that after you got out, you didn't come looking for me, that I had to go looking for you." Sara stuffs her hands in her pockets, a habit she picked up from her lover. Sometimes there's nothing else to do with them.
"Do you think that after everything I put you through, I felt like I deserved to be a part of your life?"
Sara shakes her head. "You are a part of my life. You're in my head all the time. I see you standing in the bedroom with that bloody knife. It's in my nightmares. I wake up screaming for you to stop, and Gil has to…" She bites her lip to stop herself. "I saw you in every battered woman I processed," she continues. "And I couldn't ever really help them, because I knew they'd just go back for more. I'd seen it happen…so many times. All I could do was wait for the day I'd see them again, dead or holding a knife."
"So…" Laura wipes tears from her cheeks. "I was too late then. To keep you from being…from being affected." She takes a breath. "I did it for nothing."
"No," Sara murmurs. "My issues…they're my own baggage. You're not responsible for them. I could have dealt with them years ago. I just didn't take the time. Until now."
"Why now?" Laura asks quietly.
Sara moves as close to the edge as the low metal railing will allow her. She remembers being younger, how her big brother would dare her to get closer and closer, until she was hanging over, looking down at the rocks below. By the time she was twelve, she had calculated how long it would take her to fall. Of course, she has to readjust her calculation, being that she's taller and heavier now.
She would hit rock bottom faster.
"I left someone behind in Vegas," she starts, hugging her arms around her body. The wind is chilly.
"Bill?"
"Gil." Even just saying his name makes Sara warmer. "He wants to marry me."
"Oh!" It's the universal sound of a happy mother, but it's quickly replaced with a worried frown. "But you left." Laura swallows heavily. "Did something happen? Did he…hurt you?" Her panic is written all over her face, like her greatest fear is coming true.
"He would take his own life before he raised a hand to me," Sara assures her. Laura's shoulders relax. "I didn't leave because of him. I left because of me." She borrows her mother's words. "I couldn't stand who I'd become."
They're quiet for a long time, save for the sound of the surf and the occasional gull overhead.
"I can't really hate this place," Laura says, her words almost lost on the wind. "I brought you and Mark home to this house. You played in this yard and I'd hear you laughing for hours. I had an herb garden, I painted the shutters blue...I lived so much of my life here."
"My life fractured here," Sara tells her. "So...here is where I'll start putting it together again."
They leave a few minutes later, and Sara knows she'll never come back. She won't need to.
The house is the first ghost she's able to lay to rest.
She calls Grissom that night. Her mother's husband, Joe, has come home from his trip. Her throat closes up at seeing him sweep Laura into his arms for what seems like an endless kiss.
She wishes she hadn't been so desperately sad the last time she kissed Grissom. She wishes Hodges hadn't been there. She wishes she would have slowed down, taken her time, given him the chance to put his arms around her.
She wishes she had made a happier memory.
Joe greets Sara with a hearty smile. For a moment, she worries that he might pull her into a hug, but it ends up being a hearty handshake.
"I'm glad you're here," he tells her. "Laura's told me so much about you. I'm looking forward to getting to know you." Sara just fakes a smile. He might be ready for a step-daughter, but Sara isn't ready for another father.
She's still working on burying the last one.
While the happy couple prepares dinner, fresh clam chowder in sourdough bread bowls, what Joe calls "the real San Francisco treat," Sara takes her mother's cordless phone out to the front steps. Shivering in the semi-darkness of impending night, she dials their number by heart.
"Grissom," he answers out of habit.
"Gil, it's me."
"Are you okay, Sara?" It's the first question he asks and her heart thumps wildly in her chest. He still cares. Maybe someday he'll forgive her.
"I'm fine," she promises. "I'm in San Francisco."
"With your mother?" he guesses. She nods, and somehow he can sense it. "Is that…how is that?"
"She's changed a lot," Sara says. "I guess I have to. Gil…" A little girl on a pink tricycle zips down the sidewalk, followed by an out-of-breath woman about Sara's age. She watches them for a second before continuing. "I'm sorry. I should have told you I was leaving."
"You did." There's a trace of bitterness in his words. "You left a letter."
She shakes her head. "I should have told you." The mother and daughter reappear; the child is perched on her mother's hip while the weary woman drags the tricycle back up the hill. "I miss you," Sara whispers.
Grissom clears his throat. "Hank's been trying to keep your half of the bed warm, but he's a poor substitute. With much worse morning breath." He pauses. "I would have gone with you, Sara."
"I know. And if you'd asked, I would have said yes."
"But that's not what you need." His sigh is faint, but still audible. "I'm a selfish creature," he confesses. "I want you to come home."
"I will." She hadn't planned on saying that, so when it comes out, Sara is pleasantly surprised. "Not tomorrow and maybe not next month, but…" She smiles. "Don't find someone besides Hank to keep the bed warm."
"That will never happen, Sara."
Deep down, she knows this, but it helps to hear it straight from his lips. "I should go. Mom and Joe…her new husband…they're making dinner. Clam chowder."
"Are you eating seafood now?"
"No. But considering I just convinced my mother than bacon counts as meat, I think I'll just eat around the clams."
Grissom's chuckle is a good attempt, but falls flat. "Will you call again?" he asks a moment later, like a small child asking for another kiss goodnight.
"I will," Sara promises. "Goodnight."
"I love you, Sara."
She ends the call with the press of a button.
Long after the sun has set out over the Bay, her mother comes looking for her. Dinner is ready.
"Aren't you cold out here?" Laura asks, concerned.
With the phone pressed against her heart, Sara shakes her head. "I didn't even feel it."
To Be Continued