A/N: Again I'm blown away by your amazing response to this story so far, and as you can see it is spurring me on. Thank you.
I'd like to wish a very Happy New Year 2011 to everyone. May it be the year of Grissom's return to CSI.
They sat down for dinner, Sara across from Grissom, his mother at the head of the table. Betty hadn't done things by half and Grissom wondered whether she was as intimidated meeting Sara as the younger woman was, meeting her. The thought made him smile, a sight that had Sara narrow her eyes at him. His smile turned tender and he shook his head mildly, hoping his gesture would put her mind at ease. She eyed him suspiciously for a moment longer before unfolding her napkin and placing it on her lap.
Sara was doing great, remembering all the little pointers he'd given her in the car about how to address a deaf person and her signing, if tentative, often iffy or damn right funny was endearing. And the few times she came up short he was more than happy to interpret for her. He could tell his mother was appreciating the effort Sara was putting into communicating with her and for some reason he couldn't comprehend it was suddenly important that the two most important women in his life liked each other and got on.
He was reaching for the bottle of wine when his mother suddenly bowed her head, raising her hands, signing grace. Grissom's hand immediately drew back from the bottle, dropping to his lap, and he bowed his head. Sara stifled her smile, quietly following suit.
Supper at the Grissom's was a quiet affair, punctuated only by the scraping sound of cutlery on plate and a few spoken exchanges between the two guests. Grissom would sometimes look up from his nut roast to watch Sara, enquiring with his eyes whether she was okay. She would smile, glancing toward his mother before nodding her head in reply and he'd smile back, feeling strangely contented.
At the end of the meal Betty disappeared to the kitchen only to return with a wide beam on her face and a pineapple upside-down cake.
"It used to be Gil's favourite," she said with her hands once she'd set the plate down. Grissom gave a soft chuckle before grudgingly speaking the words to Sara.
Sara eyed Grissom with a half-raised brow, her face pursed in surprise. "I wonder what else I'm going to find out about you," she mused teasingly.
His laugh was on the slightly uneasy side. "Yeah, that's what I'm worried about," he mumbled back. His mother placed a plate in front of Sara, holding out another one for him and without another word he took it, heartily cutting into his rather large piece.
"Thanks mom," he signed as he finished his last mouthful, "this was just as I remember it."
"Have a little more. Sara?"
"No, thank you, mom," he replied with his hands before patting his paunch, causing her to laugh.
Sara pushed her plate away, copying Grissom's hand gesture and adding when she caught Betty's eye, "I can see where Gil learnt to cook. This was truly delicious. You went to a lot of trouble."
"Don't mention it, please," Betty signed. "It's a pleasure." She paused, clearly hesitating, and glanced at Grissom before continuing, "Gil never brought many girls home – even when he was a boy."
Despite avidly watching Betty's hands Sara raised a deep, bewildered frown toward Grissom. "Girls, home and boy?" she repeated uncertainly.
"Mother," he signed quickly, "You're embarrassing me."
"Isn't that what a mother's supposed to do?" she signed back laughing. "Wait until I bring out that picture of you in the sheep costume your father took when you were five. Do you remember?"
Cheeks burning, Grissom whipped his head toward Sara but it was clear from the puzzled expression on her face that she hadn't understood any of it. The ghost of a smile playing on his lips at what he was about to do he gave her his own, slightly abbreviated version of the exchange. "Mother was saying that I never really brought any friends home before and I guess she's saying that it's nice when I do."
Sara nodded her head, turning to smile politely at Betty. "I'm glad to finally be able to meet you, Mrs Grissom. Gil talks about you often."
"Liar," Grissom said, knowing that his mother wouldn't know since she was intently watching Sara's lips.
Doing her best to ignore his comment, Sara rose to her feet and began gathering plates and cutlery into piles. Grissom followed suit, about to suggest to his mother that he and Sara went for a walk when she put her hand on his arm, stopping him. The sudden shift in her expression made him sit back down and share a confounded look with Sara.
Redirecting his eyes on his mother he watched as she caught Sara's eye and smiled, saying with haltered overly loud speech, "Sara, excuse me but I just need to talk to Gil for a moment." Then signing to Grissom, "Tell Sara that I don't mean to be rude and shut her out, and that I apologize if it appears that I am doing, but-" She paused and took a breath, her eyes finally meeting her son's anxious ones. Her smile widened and she patted his arm warmly, visibly waiting for him to relay her words to Sara.
"Gil?" Sara said, her voice tinged with caution.
He turned with a start and gave himself a shake of the head. "I'm sorry, honey," he said, reaching for her hand across the table before relaying his mother's words to her.
"Oh, no," Sara said, turning to address Betty. "You don't need to apologise. It's okay; I understand. You want some time to catch up with him. I'll just make a start on these." She motioned toward the plates and dishes ready to be taken through to the kitchen.
Betty waved her hands quickly in front of her in a negative gesture before pointing a sharp index finger toward her own chest. "Please." She turned toward Grissom, signing, "What I have to tell you won't take long." Grissom was eyeing his mother with growing concern. "Tell Sara she doesn't have to go."
"It's okay," Sara told him, "I'll just take these to the kitchen and make a start on unpacking."
He smiled, distractedly nodding his thanks and watching as Sara disappeared through to the kitchen. His smile faded, his eyes taking on a sorrowful expression as he once more turned to his mother, signing quickly, "You're not ill, are you?"
Her face softened at the concern in his face and she lifted her hand to his cheek, gently shaking her head. "No, no, nothing like that." She smiled. "All the tests from my last mammography were clear, you know that." He simply nodded his head, waiting for her to continue. She took a breath. "No, it's something else. I've invited Julia for dessert tomorrow lunch that's all."
His brow furrowed and he shook his head. "You what?"
"I've invited Juli-"
He stopped her before she could spell out the whole of Julia's name. "I understood what you said," he signed quickly, "what I don't understand is why."
Betty flustered at the sharpness of her son's signing. "She happens to be in town and- Why not? You and her are friends, aren't you?"
"Mother, don't play me for a fool."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Gil. Julia is a friend of mine too, whom I haven't seen for a long time and she just so happens to be in town this week. I didn't think you'd mind."
"What about Sara?"
His mother registered a look of surprise. "What about Sara? She's your guest. I'm sure she and Julia will-"
"She's my girlfriend."
Betty was looking more and more bewildered by her son's reaction. "Of course she is. She's very nice, very pleasant and polite and she thinks the world of you, Gil. I like her."
"But?"
Betty sighed, visibly at a loss as to what was happening. "There is no 'but'." She shrugged. "There's something Julia and I want to talk to you about and since-" she paused abruptly, smiling as Sara re-entered the room.
"Sorry," Sara smiled. "I just needed-" she pointed to her purse on the floor, pausing on noticing the chill in the air.
Grissom shook himself out of his shock, lifting doleful eyes toward her. Standing up abruptly, he tried a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "It's okay, Sara," he said, "You weren't interrupting anything. We were finished anyway. Weren't we?" he signed to his mother.
Betty nodded her head a little sadly. She took a small breath, about to say more to her son but instead refocused her gaze on Sara, watching her uncertainly for a little while before smiling as she signed, "Sara, you play dominoes?"
Sara made a puzzled face and looked at Grissom for help. Unwilling to involve Sara in their argument, he politely relayed his mother's question but gave her a brisk shake of the head. Sara's gaze hesitantly flicked from Grissom to Betty. After a short pause, good manners won over Grissom's disquiet and she smiled graciously, replying, "As a matter of fact I do. But I haven't played in a long time."
Grissom sighed, pursing his face in irritation before briskly crossing the room, opening a dresser drawer and pulling out a worn-out small cardboard box.
Betty rose to her feet, following her son to the dresser. She took out a bottle, which she brought to the table. "Sara, would you care for a glass of sherry?"
Sara took her place at the table, her eyes once again on Grissom, and she shook her head at Betty. "No, thank you. Not for me."
"Gil?" his mother enquired.
"Me neither." He set the box down on the table, let out a long sigh, and then tapped his mother on the forearm. She turned toward him, and he took a breath, his hands poised in mid-air before suddenly taking on a life of their own. "I need a little fresh air and I told Sara I'd take her to see Fisherman's Village. It'll be dark soon and…do you mind if we…pass on the-"
His mother caught his hands with hers, stilling them and she shook her head before finally signing, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you and I can see I have."
Sara's brow furrowed in recognition of the sign for 'sorry' and she looked at Grissom enquiringly. "Gil? Is everything all right?"
He swallowed, the smile he shot her thin, the nod unconvincing. "Let's go see the lighthouse now. I need to stretch my legs." He turned to his mother, signing, "You didn't upset me. It just came as a shock, that's all, especially since Sara's here."
"Gil?"
He paused, turning back to address Sara. "I'll explain in a moment." He reached over for her hand on the table and squeezed it gently, accompanying his gesture with a loving smile.
Sara's gaze veered to Betty as she wondered whether she was the reason for the sudden shift in the mood but the older woman was busy gathering the rest of the plates and dishes and didn't notice. Grissom made to leave but Sara hung back uncertainly. Betty looked up and Sara smiled a little nervously.
"Mrs Grissom," she signed hesitantly, "Thank you again for the meal. It was excellent." She paused and looked toward Grissom who was waiting, hovering by the door. "How do you sign, we won't be long?" she asked him.
He sighed, grudgingly raising his hands to pass on Sara's message. Sara watched his hands and turned back toward Betty, copying his finger movement to the letter.
"You've very welcome, my dear," Betty signed back with a smile, looking like she meant her words.
Grissom watched his mother with disbelief for a moment, then shook his head and dragged a bewildered Sara out of the room. "I'm sorry about dragging you away," he said a little curtly, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "I know how much you love playing dominoes."
Sara tugged at his hand and he paused. "Gil? Talk to me. What happened in there?"
He lifted a small shoulder, too immersed in his own thoughts to pick up on Sara's fears. "I'll go get our coats," he told her, dropping her hand, not meeting her gaze. "The wind can get chilly at this time of night."