Remembering Forward Again
Chapter 4
A/N: My biggest thanks to all of you who have left your comments; they always make smile :) And of course, thank you to EllipsesBandit for her comma expertise and the use of her machete for shortening this chapter. A plate of my best chocolate chip cookies, and then some to Mingsmommy for catching some glaring errors.
Greg always credited himself with finding the best hole-in-the-wall restaurants; however the young man couldn't claim the discovery of Avogadro's Number, a sandwich shop near UNLV. Grissom found the place his first year in Las Vegas, and had been coming back since. He was grateful for the late night hours of college students; because of them he had been able to pick up a meatball sandwich at two 'o clock in the morning for years. Now it was his favorite place to have lunch with his wife.
After the waiter left, Grissom reached across the table and placed his hand over Sara's. "So, I-uh got a call from Bert Gaiman on Monday."
"Who's that?"
Keeping his eyes locked on their hands, he cleared his throat. "He's-uh, he's…the dean." He swallowed. "Of Williams College." He looked up to see her carefully working her jaw.
"Okay," she said slowly. After a deep breath she asked, "What did he want?"
"Apparently some students requested a summer program, so he asked me to come in June." He quickly added, "Just for two weeks."
"That's great." She smiled genuinely at him, but he could still see a little sadness in her eyes. "Are you going?"
"I told Bert that if I visited again, I'd probably need a bigger room."
"Why?"
"Because I said I was going ask my wife to join me."
She blinked a few times in surprise. "Really?"
Nodding, he told her, "You've still got ten weeks of vacation so getting time off wouldn't be a problem. And the summer classes will be shorter; we would be able to see Boston in the afternoons."
While his previous sabbatical had been a much needed break from the lab, he had discovered some painful truths being away from Sara: he had been too warm at night, having all the covers to himself; no one cared if he left a mess of papers and journals on the desk; and the sound of her laughter on the phone just wasn't the same as in person.
Her grin grew infinitely bigger. "I'd love to come along." She let her thumb brush across his left ring finger. "Thank you."
Relief untied the several knots that had taken up residence in his stomach. "I've been to Boston several times, but I've never--" the moment was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone. Groaning, he quickly removed the offending object from the clip on his belt.
"Grissom," he answered brusquely.
It was Conrad Ecklie informing him of bodies found with massive insect activity. When the entomologist asked where the bodies were located, Sara mouthed, "Work?" He mouthed back, "Yes" as he continued to listen. Knowing he was going to leave in a few minutes, she nodded in acceptance.
It was another one of those many times Gil was grateful for such an understanding wife.
September 2005
Cold beer, a cool Las Vegas day, the porch swing on the balcony, a Chicago Cubs game on the radio, and of course Sara-all the essentials for a perfect afternoon.
Sara didn't appreciate baseball the way he did, but she still sat with him. She'd curl up next to him with a book or a journal. At the moment she was reading Eats, Shoots and Leaves. She giggled a few times when he cheered his favorite team or got frustrated over the Rockies scoring a run.
He took a pull from the beer bottle before letting his arm settle around her back. "Do you know what important day is next week?"
She looked up. "I have to play this game with you, too?"
"What?"
Shaking her head, she smiled. "Never mind." She placed the book in her lap. "You are probably referring to my birthday."
"Right." He paused before nervously asking. "Do you want to do anything?"
She remained silent as she traced a small pattern on his chest. Finally she answered, "I really haven't done anything for my birthday the last couple of years, so we don't have to."
Letting his arms tighten around her slightly, he rested his cheek on her hair. "What if we did something small? Just us?"
"Like what?"
He took a breath, trying to make his suggestion sound casual, "How about I come over to your apartment, and cook you dinner?"
"You don't have to do that."
"I know."
He smiled as she continued to stare at him with a surprised expression. Sitting up properly, she shrugged a little. "Well-uh, what…would you make?"
"Anything you wanted."
A breath went through her nose while she stared off into the distance. After thinking, she eventually replied, "It doesn't have to be anything fancy…something like your vegetarian lasagna; the great recipe you found with the zucchini."
"The one with the homemade sauce?"
"Yeah," she grinned.
"Okay." He started making a mental list of groceries he needed along with the cooking utensils he was sure he'd have to bring. Sara owned two baking pans that she used to make cookies from the tubes of dough and three pots, one of which was used on a regular basis to boil water for macaroni and cheese. Grissom was fairly certain she might even have a serving spoon…somewhere. "Anything else?"
"Maybe a salad…and that cream cheese garlic bread." She settled against him, this time entwining their fingers.
"So you want salad, lasagna, and garlic bread."
"And cake," she added hopefully. "A marble cake with your homemade frosting."
"I don't know if I have a pan big enough to hold a cake with 34 candles," he said as he closed his eyes.
He chuckled when she poked him in the stomach. "Next year, we'll need a fireman on hand to supervise lighting your cake."
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The following Friday afternoon, Grissom let himself into Sara's apartment, armed with bags of food. He felt strange being in her home without her, but he wanted to set up the evening on his own.
He set the cake on the counter, and the sauce, also prepared, went on the stove to be heated. Grissom opened a bag and brought two candle sticks to the table. Then he started placing other candles throughout the living room. When he finished, he went back to the kitchen.
As he started to cut the vegetables, he mentally ran through the evening's schedule. After the lasagna was put in the oven, he'd prepare the salad and keep it in the refrigerator. Next, he would take a shower, and then change into gray slacks, loafers, and the midnight blue Oxford shirt she said brought out his eyes. The lasagna would still have twenty minutes or so to bake, giving him enough time to set the table, open the bottle of wine, and light the candles. And Sara would be walking in the door as he placed the food on the table.
Grissom smiled to himself as he finished chopping the carrots. He wanted tonight to special for Sara. He wanted her to have a good birthday. He wanted—
His cell phone rang loudly from its place on the table next to the door.
He wanted to throw the piece of technology out the window.
Sighing, Grissom went to answer the offending piece. He always said 'assume nothing,' so maybe it wasn't the lab. Maybe it was Sara. But one look at the caller ID had him groaning internally.
"Grissom." The irritation in his tone was evident.
"Hello to you too," came Brass' voice. "You don't have to guess why I'm calling, and no, it's not to invite you over to watch the Cubs on my new HD TV. We've got another body at Las Vegas Ranch with lots of your little friends."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Grissom closed his eyes. Not tonight; of all nights to be called in, why now? "Jim, I can't…I have plans."
"Gil, staying at home and watching the Discovery Channel with caramel covered beetles does not qualify as plans."
"It's not…I'm…" Grissom's jaw tightened. He and Sara decided early on to keep their relationship a secret, so the truth wasn't an option. But he couldn't think of a more viable reason.
He heard Brass let out a deep breath. "The victim is the friend of a friend of the nephew of the brother of the mayor, or something like that. The mayor's asking for you." Brass paused. "Actually he's demanding you."
The muscles in Grissom's jaw tightened even more. Harshly, he replied, "Fine. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
"Don't sound too excited," Brass said before disconnecting.
Grissom snapped the phone shut, and started to count to ten; his pulse rate had reached at least eighty. Once he calmed down, he opened the phone again. He should have told Brass twenty-five minutes. Sara warranted a call, and not some scrawled note.
She didn't sound too upset, but then again she was out with Nick and Greg. It wasn't possible for her to ream him. But she had told him to come over when he finished. There was hope.
After they said goodbye, he shook his head at the food on the counter. With a determined expression, he cleaned up. It was still possible to salvage the evening.
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Then again, maybe not.
When the insect collection was completed, the mayor demanded the timeline right away. That left Grissom dealing with both McKeen and Ecklie at the lab. He managed to fend off the two, and lock himself in his office.
Finally, just ten minutes shy of eleven, Grissom stalked out of the lab. But not before telling Judy, short of the sky falling, he did not want to be paged for any reason whatsoever.
He rushed to Sara's apartment without calling. As he took the stairs two at a time, he wondered if she would still let him in. This was Vegas, so if need be, even at this hour, he could find flowers or a puppy to enhance his efforts.
Standing at her door, Grissom caught his breath. He brushed a hand through his hair, and bracing himself, knocked.
She opened the door wearing Tigger pajama pants and a black tank top. Her small smile was encouraging.
"I am so sorry," he said for what had to be the hundredth time. "I came as soon as I finished."
The grin broadened. "It's really not a problem."
His shoulders slumped in relief while he walked in. "I got held up at the lab. The mayor wanted the time of death right away, and Ecklie was breathing down my neck every five minutes." He looked at the kitchen. "And now it's too late for dinner," he sighed.
"It's fine. I actually ordered a pizza a little while ago."
Now he noticed she had backed away with her nose crinkled and mouth scrunched up. Perhaps she was more upset than he thought. When he stepped forward to offer a hug, she stepped back again.
"Honey, I-I'm sorry…I tried to get out of it." Sara walked backwards as he moved closer.
"Gil, stop worrying. I told you it's fine."
But it wasn't. Why wouldn't she let him touch her? "I tried telling Brass--"
"No, it's not that." Keeping more than an arm's length between them, she stopped and stated, "Baby, you stink."
Was it really necessary to resort to name calling? Granted, he hadn't been the best boyfriend, but didn't he deserve some credit for trying?
"W-What?" he stuttered.
"You reek," she told him, covering her nose. "Where the heck was that body?"
He sniffed himself. Oh yeah, she was right. "At a cattle ranch. The victim was found near a manure pile."
"Then you did have a shitty night." She pointed to the bathroom. "Go. Shower. The pizza should be here when you get out."
"I'm--"
"I know, sorry," she interrupted. Her face turned had pale. "Go. Now." Sara's eyes began to water. "Please."
He picked up the small duffle bag he had left in the hallway earlier, and chuckled. She was kicking him out, but at least it wasn't through the front door.
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After his shower, Grissom changed into the cotton t-shirt and navy blue silk lounge pants Sara had gotten him for his birthday. Personally, he didn't care for the pants because they made his stomach seem rounder and his gait more obvious. But for whatever reason, she loved seeing him wear them.
The smell of what he was sure was the vegetable special from Anthony's wafted from the living room. He walked in to see her piling blankets and pillows on the couch. Apparently they were not eating at the table.
She looked up, and grinned at his apparel. "Happy birthday to me." She took a few steps to kiss him. When they broke apart, she happily noted his improved odor, "Much better."
They sat on the couch together where she handed him a plate with a slice of pizza. Once he settled his back against the arm of the furniture, she cuddled up to his chest.
She had just started on her second slice when she noticed he hadn't eaten anything. "What's wrong? Are you feeling sick?"
He shook his head, and took a deep breath. "Sara, I'm sorry I had to go. I know this isn't how you wanted to spend your birthday."
Putting her plate on the floor, she turned to face him. "Are you kidding me? This…" she waved around them, "…is perfectly fine. I've got large pizza, two bottles of root beer, High Road to China will be on in ten minutes, and you're here." Her right hand found his cheek where her thumb stroked the skin. "Don't be so hard on yourself."
His lips twitched. "I know, but when I get called out--"
"Is not your fault," she finished. "You're the supervisor, so you're the first to get paged. You're also the lab's resident bug expert, so they want you at scenes with the creepy crawlers." At his pursed lips, Sara smirked. "I'm not going to be mad at you for having to leave. Mad at Ecklie and the mayor, yes. And the idiot who decided to commit the crime. But not you." She shrugged. "There will be some things that have to be postponed, but it'll be okay." Then she shyly added, "You can still call and come over when you're done."
Grissom was floored by her words. Never before had a woman shown such infinite patience with his schedule, and Sara had already waited ten years for him. In previous years, he couldn't make it past the third date, if there was one. Women had gotten fed up fairly quickly with dates cut short.
Not able to come up with a proper verbal response, Grissom answered the best way he think of. He took Sara's face between his hands and brought her lips to his for a long, deep kiss. After all, it was least she deserved. He tried to convey how grateful he was with the soft slide of lips.
When she began to make pleading noises for air, he finally let go, leaning his forehead against hers. "I'm glad to see you're over it," she giggled.
He pecked her nose. "Thank you."
"You know, there's still enough time before the movie for a piece of cake," she said offhandedly.
"I'll get you some then."
He went into the kitchen and opened the bag he hid under the sink to retrieve one of the most important items he had brought. Then he went about cutting the cake.
Grissom came back with one arm out carrying a plate and the other behind him. Sara's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He brought the arm from around his back in front of her to reveal a piece of cake with one lit birthday candle in the middle of it. He decided the small box of red striped candles was the best purchase he had made at the store as her brown eyes stared at him with such joy.
"Happy Birthday, Sara."
"What's the case?" Sara asked as he hung up the phone.
"Three bodies found in a field near Henderson. Dayshift needs the help." Grissom got out of his chair.
"Alright. I promise your Reuben will be there when you get home," she teased.
"What about--"
"The car? Take it, and I'll call a cab."
No resentment, no disappointment; just plain acceptance. Sara truly was a patient woman. No wonder he promised the rest of his life to her.
He bent to give her a peck on the lips. "I owe you."
She nodded. "Yes, you do." She kissed him again. "Be careful. I love you."
"I love you, too." As he walked away, he heard her say, "Since you'll be near Henderson, you can stop at Graeter's on the way home, and pick up some ice cream. Chocolate chip cookie dough."
Smirking, he didn't turn around. "Yes, dear."
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A/N: Graeter's is a real ice cream place in Cincinnati; every time my family visits Ohio, we must make a trip there. One of the shops magically transported to Nevada. Funny how those things happen.