Chapter 9
This time he was quiet. "No." His hands brushed her hair. "I'm sorry about Heather, Sara. You believe me that we were never intimate."
"I know." He felt her smile before he saw her face. "I just like to see you try to explain what everyone thought."
The afternoon had passed when they left the room. Sara knew they would find good food at the café and neither minded eating at there again. Afterwards, they walked along the beach in the dark with the moon giving light to whitecaps whipped up by a strong wind; the sound of surf the only noise.
They agreed to meet in four days in San Francisco. He would return to Las Vegas tomorrow. Four days and they would marry.
The next morning, Sara stood in the doorway of her motel room and watched him drive away. Her mind no longer stuck in an endless cycle of questions with no answers, she smiled as she waved. He smiled until he could no longer see her, then called her on the phone to tell her how much he missed her. She laughed.
"Drive carefully. I'll see you soon. Don't forget where you are to be four days." She promised to visit her mother after he returned. He asked for her favorite place in San Francisco—she rapidly named five places. She would show him all five and more, she promised.
In twenty-four hours, she said goodbye to the town and its people leaving as quietly as she had arrived. She packed everything she had in her trunk and still had space. The owners of the motel waved as she left after she promised to return. Her drive to San Francisco was much more enjoyable and directed than the mindless wandering of her trip nearly a month ago. She toured a winery, stopped at an organic farm, and spent one night at a bed and breakfast.
Grissom called her every few hours. He made reservations at a small hotel and forbid her to use her own sheets or towels. He would arrive early; he was taking a week of leave.
Greg picked Grissom up at the airport immediately aware of the change in his boss. Wasting no time, the young man launched into a dozen questions. "How is Sara? Is she coming back? When is she coming back?" Before Grissom could answer, he asked the same questions again.
Grissom smiled at his enthusiasm. Greg had long ago passed the shyness factor in his ability to ask questions. He had been unable to contain his frustrations and anger when Sara left until Grissom cornered him. In that conversation, Grissom realized how much Sara meant to Greg. Today, Greg became the first to hear.
"Getting married! Here? When? Do we get invited?"
His disappointment was apparent when Grissom answered with "San Francisco, a few days, just the two."
Within minutes of sitting behind his desk, paperwork piled a foot high, three others joined Greg in wanting to hear about Sara and almost as quickly, they knew about marriage plans.
Catherine was the first to object. "You can't do this! We all want to be there! We are family—what are you thinking?"
Grissom shook his head. "It's what she wants."
Jim Brass came in late to the conversation, caught up in mid-sentence by Nick. "Grissom is finally marrying Sara."
Grissom tried explaining that it was Sara's reluctance to get married that had postponed a wedding until now. Her friends readily believed his version; however Catherine insisted that no woman really wanted a city hall wedding. She kept after Grissom until he agreed to phone Sara and ask if she wanted a ceremony elsewhere. Sara was adamant; she did not.
An hour before he left, the same five people stood around his desk. Catherine was delegated spokesperson.
"I've worked out a plan," she began. "You just have to go along with it." He sat open-mouthed as she explained what they were going to do. Outsmarted or exhausted from all that had happened in the past week, he agreed.
In San Francisco, Sara found the hotel, small, ultra-high end, and so expensive they did not put the price on the registration form she signed. Every morning, a hot beverage of her choice was delivered within minutes of her requested time. Her first day, she shopped for a new outfit deciding she would not get married in jeans. The second day, she found the cemetery where her father was buried and in the ordered lines of grave markers, she found the simple white one naming her father.
In the days she had spent alone, she had realized Grissom was right. She could move into the future; the past could not be changed. Her anxieties had lessened; Grissom still wanted to marry her.
She smelled his presence before she opened her eyes. He was moving quietly around the room trying not to wake her.
"Hey, I'm awake."
He joined her in bed. "I was trying to be quiet." In the next few hours, they talked, made love, and laughed; all before going to visit her mother.
Walking up the narrow sidewalk, Grissom whispered, "I love you, Sara." She smiled.
As expected, her mother had not changed. Grissom kept his hand at Sara's back while the two women talked in circles. Her mother gave an excited approval of their marriage plans; Grissom recognized the tone as one does lies. She launched into plans of her own—to help Sara, to visit her, to do all the things a mother might do, but this one would never do. When told they planned to marry the next day at city hall, her mother's complaints increased from the simple 'It's to much to go downtown' to the more complex of crowds and parking and multiple reasons that she would not be there.
Grissom stood to leave, bringing Sara up with him. "We hope you will come, but if you can't, we understand," he said. "I love Sara very much. She loves me even more." He pulled a business card from his pocket. "Here's how to reach us." Leaving, he pulled the door firmly closed. "You did great, honey."
Sara smiled. "It was easier with you. Thanks."
