Chapter 4
With the sun low on the horizon, he found the town, barely more than a fishing village but big enough to attract a few tourists who left the main highway. He had no idea where to find her. All she had given him was the name of the town. She thought he was in Las Vegas and he thought it wise to let her think that.
He passed three roadside motels checking each parking lot before deciding she would be near the beach. If he did not find her car by dark, he would have to call her. He found her car in the lot of a small family owned inn, sporting a sign offering 'free fish' for a two night stay. Interesting advertisement, he thought, as he parked next to her car. Inside the office, the owner freely confirmed their guest's name but instead of a room number, he pointed to the beach.
"Sara's out there. I think she walked south." The man eyed Grissom. "I hope you are a friend."
Grissom answered yes. Spontaneously adding, "It took longer than I thought it would to get here."
The man nodded. "It always does." His head moved again. "She's a lot better now. We were worried the first week."
Grissom turned to leave, saying, "If she gets back before I find her, don't say anything. I want to surprise her."
"Sure. She's down there, you will find her."
He crossed the street to the path heading south on the nearly deserted beach. He ran his hand across his face as his eyes followed one person then another. A broad beach scattered with rocks stretched to the water. The ocean breeze was a strong wind making waves break and pound as they curled before reaching huge boulders offshore. Spreading smaller waves met the beach where a dozen or so people walked and played. Three hundred yards away, her arm raised as she threw something into the surf, he found her. He hesitated, for the first time thinking she might not want him here. But he was not leaving until she said the words.
His eyes never left her as she picked up one rock after another. A wet dog ran up to her causing his breath to catch in his throat before he realized the dog belonged to two children. Her pants were rolled up, her feet were bare, her hair blowing around her face. She looked well. His breath choked again as he realized she also looked happy.
He walked across the sand uncaring that water covered his shoes and splashed his legs. He was less than thirty feet from her when she turned. At first, she tilted her head to one side and swiped her hair behind one ear. The rock in her hand dropped. He saw her mouth form his name. A second later, she was running, saying his name, and smiling from ear to ear.
Grissom felt damp hair and tasted salty lips on his, hearing her words of "I love you" as she was in his arms. Long minutes passed as he remembered why he had driven all day to find her. She remembered why she had lived in Las Vegas.
"I've missed you every minute of the day," he whispered. "I waited too long to come." His arms held her tightly against his chest; he felt her warm breath against his neck. "Come back to me, Sara."
They parted so they could walk. She picked up shoes and jacket from the beach, never letting go of his hand.
"I had to leave, Gil. I—I was coming undone."
"I would have done anything."
She closed the space between them wrapping an arm around his waist, as his arm slid across her shoulders. "I know, but I needed time. I was chasing something that wasn't there."
"I'm here now."
She smiled as she pulled his face to hers. After she kissed him, she said, "You found me in the desert and now you've found me by the ocean." She kissed him again. "I was running away when I should have been running to you."
They walked back up the beach, saying nothing else, but wrapped in each other's arms. Rarely more than a minute would pass before he would kiss her again—her hand, the top of her head, her neck, her lips. When their lips met, they stopped walking and neither noticed the sunset across the horizon.
Sara gave a one-hand wave to the couple at the front desk. Grissom popped the trunk of his rental car and retrieved his one bag. The couple in the office smiled at each other; both relieved that their lonely guest had a visitor.
She opened the door of her rented room saying "It's small."
His response was "It's good." He knew how she hated motel rooms after watching her work too many crime scenes in similar places. Immediately, he saw she had personalized the room. The pillows were her own, as well as the sheets and blanket on the bed. The standard issue bedspread was gone. The room had one bed and a small sofa, a small refrigerator, a microwave, and a coffee pot. He could see the bathroom from the door. Just as she had replaced the motel's sheets, he knew she had also purchased her own towels.
Along the window she had placed several shells and rocks. On the bedside table, three paperback books were stacked. Beside the books was a photograph of him and their dog. Tears came to his eyes as he surveyed the simple furnishings of the room and meager possessions she had accumulated.
He quickly pulled her to him wrapping his arms around her yet he could not stop the choking heave that came from his chest. She had stayed here, alone, dealing with her ghosts. He had remained in the comfort of their home surrounded by things she had selected while she had chosen to be here. He did not understand but knew whatever had occurred was his fault, his lack of involvement, his selfish single-minded life.