A/N: This chapter brings the story to its end! We hope you enjoyed going along with Grissom and Sara and their little family as everyone aged...and Grissom would be 91 in Chapters 9 and 10!
After Effects
Chapter 10
The gardens of the public park were bursting with tiny flowering buds; trees had unfurled their spring leaves in celebration of a new season. A wide stone terrace was decked with flowers, overflowing baskets, hanging from trellises. Real flowers, Sara thought, as she touched flowers attached to chairs.
Two hundred guests for the wedding and dinner to follow. She grinned as she acknowledged knowing her youngest child would be the one who would have this kind of wedding. The child had always loved a production.
When she got to the last row of chairs, she sat down and watched as the florists placed the last of flowers, as musicians tested instruments and speakers; she had managed to slip away from the happy commotion at the house for a few minutes. She'd walked the trail to the park, one she'd been taking since the children were young and in a few hours, Bronwyn would walk as a bride.
She wished she had thought to bring a cold beer.
The musicians began to play a song she recognized, surprised her daughter had asked for this one. She closed her eyes, as relaxed as a mother-of-the-bride could be on wedding day.
"Hiding out?"
She jumped before opening her eyes and realizing her old friends, Nick Stokes and Greg Sanders, stood at her side. Both men were more handsome now, she thought, than when they had been young, part of a team so long ago.
"Caught me," she said with a laugh.
Nick held up his hand, holding a glass bottle. He said, "So are we—and I brought a beer."
Smiling, she took the bottle, saying, "How long has it been since we shared one bottle of beer?" before taking a long swallow.
Nick sat beside her while Greg sat in the next row and for a few minutes, they passed the bottle back and forth until she indicated one of them could finish it off.
"It's a beautiful wedding," Greg said.
With a soft laugh, Sara corrected him, saying, "The wedding is in a couple of hours."
Laughing, Nick drained the bottle before saying, "The weekend—you and Grissom have outdone yourselves."
"Four kids—one wedding. The least we could do is make sure it's beautiful and fun."
Nick leaned back, hooking his arm over the chair back to look at her. "You did get off easy with Cate and little Greg—what about Jay? He might get married—big wedding." He made a quiet snort. "Maybe—one day."
On the terrace, music changed to another song Sara recognized as an old one.
"Jay is so much like his dad," Sara said, not bothering to hide her snicker at their joke. "It will have to be one determined woman."
Nick lifted his chin in the direction of the terrace. Standing, he handed Greg the empty bottle and said, "I may be old but I never miss a chance to dance to one of 'our' songs." His hand extended to Sara's as she came to her feet. His hand went to her back as they stepped away from the chairs, guiding her into a slow dance. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?"
Sara did not know if he referred to their dance or their friendship; she decided on friendship, saying, "You are a wonderful friend, Nick." His face broke into a grin when she kissed his cheek.
After the song ended, the three friends headed back to the house as conversation flowed between the three. There had been times when months passed without talking, but they managed to catch up with each other's lives as if the passing time had been a few days.
...It had been an accomplishment to pull off, and Grissom gave his wife and daughters full credit for everything. He'd known from the time Bronwyn announced she was getting married that her wedding would be an event. Everyone in the community knew her and her groom; add friends and family and they were having an 'intimate' wedding with two hundred guests.
Pouring wine spritzer into two glasses, he walked across the deck and placed one next to Catherine Willows. As he moved a chair near her, he thought of the constant influence this woman had been; never changing—except for her hair which was more white than gold now. When she stood, she was ramrod straight, sculpted, razor-sharp in body and mind. And never married after Eddie; he knew she'd had boyfriends, one or two for years, but explained the right combination had never happened.
He watched as she continued talking to Cate about life in Las Vegas—casinos, growth of the area, and, with great pride, her grandchildren. After years in the crime lab, she'd finally moved into her father's business. Her daughter, who had two teenagers now, had followed a few years later and was now CEO.
Catherine turned to Grissom, picking up the glass. "Thank you, Gil. Everything is beautiful! And perfect weather—but you have that all the time! Every time I visit, I marvel at this place—how you two managed to find the one hidden gem along the coast that has managed to remain—this way!"
Chuckling, he agreed.
She continued, "Of course, having state and federal parks on three sides has helped. Vegas had uncontrolled spread for so long—stopping because of park boundaries—I'd thought it couldn't get any bigger. Then developers started on old neighborhoods—it's a miracle any of them survived." She took a sip of wine, slowly placing the glass on the small table; her eyes seemed to gaze into the distance for a long moment.
Finally, she said, "Heather's old house is gone—replaced with condos. I saw her a few times, but she became more reclusive." Catherine's eyes focused on her friend. "There was a time, long ago, I thought you'd end up with her."
Another chuckle was Grissom's response. For thirty years, almost every time he'd seen Catherine, she had brought up Heather Kessler. Making another sound that sounded more like a groan than a chuckle, he glanced around the deck, surprised to find they were alone.
"Catherine—the woman's been dead for what? Fifteen years—longer? What do you want to know? We were friends—never lovers—she was—she was interesting."
Catherine's mouth opened, closed, opened again before she smiled. "Well, everyone thought you were lovers!"
Grissom made a face, waving a hand toward her, and laughed. "That was all a life time ago—we've been here—in California for over thirty years. Sometimes I can't remember what happened all those years ago—except for one thing." Quietly, he chuckled, shaking his head and said a date, and then "It was three-thirty in the afternoon and I knew she was special." Quickly, he added, "I didn't know how or what that meant but I knew I wanted to be around her, hear her voice, make her laugh. Of course, I didn't figure out what to do for years—wasn't very smart about it—but when I got the full force of that Sara smile, I knew—this woman—barely more than a girl—was—was going to hold a special place in my life."
Lifting his wine glass into the air, he smiled, saying, "To a wonderful life."
Raising her glass to touch his, Catherine laughed, the same, high-pitched laugh he remembered. "It took you long enough—and look how well things turned out."
Late in the afternoon, when Bronwyn came down the stairway with her mother at her side, Grissom had to take a deep breath at the life size painting before him. He stared at the pair of beautiful women, chosen by another to be mother and daughter, so different in physical appearance; the younger in a delicate, diaphanous white dress, cheeks blushed, eyes a robin's egg blue, blonde hair brushed away from her face. But it was from Sara that his dreams and memories, multi hued, iridescent, arose. He remembered their first meeting, their first touch, when they had both known instant desire. In his mind, he could still see the young woman, no older than his daughter in the shimmering rainbow of memory.
Their lips were moving, he realized. Talking, smiling, as they came toward him, Bronwyn's arm stretched to take his hand for the familiar walk to marry her groom, a young man he and Sara had grown to love.
In a ceremony timed for sunset, not one chair was vacant as Bronwyn Grissom married her childhood friend in a traditional ritual that dated back to the beginnings of civilization. The bride's niece was flower girl; her sister was her attendant. The bride was beautiful in a flowing dress; the groom was handsome in his casual suit wearing a blue shirt the color of the bride's eyes.
During dinner, when friends and family spoke of memories of the young couple, it was Bronwyn's brother, Jay, who related his sister's first mention of her new husband.
"She used a bad word—and said she'd learned it from Ethan," he said as the guests laughed at the story. "She was twelve, I think, and she'd been talking about this funny guy named Ethan for weeks." Shrugging his shoulders, he added, "Who would have thought we'd hear about Ethan for years—and then make him part of the family!"
After hours of doing duty as parents of the bride, Sara and Grissom finally moved to the area far from the band where their old friends gathered. Stories were told, experiences were relived, plans made. Retirement had arrived for all; Nick and Mandy, in San Diego, visited often. Greg and Morgan lived in Vegas near their children and Catherine admitted there was no other place she would live.
Occasionally, one of the Grissom children arrived, dragging their dad or mom or one of the friends onto the dance floor for a slow dance. At some point, the two Grissom grandchildren fell asleep in protective arms.
Finally, the young couple departed amid a flurry of excitement and promises for their future. The parents and their long-time friends strolled back to house under a sky that assured a beautiful dawn.
In the early hours of the morning, after everyone had changed to casual clothes and comfortable shoes, Grissom made coffee, pouring it into insulated cups, and sacked up a bag of snacks. Sara pulled out warmer jackets insisting they would be wanted later.
By the time the blue-gray sky marked the coming dawn, the group was in three vehicles, heading to the small craft harbor. Nine of them; Catherine, Nick and Mandy, Greg and Morgan, Sara and the three Grissom men arrived at the dock and the younger men helped the women onto the old boat that still bore the name 'Ishmael'. Six names in smaller script, those of children and grandchildren had been written around the cabin door.
There had been few changes to the boat over thirty years; several new coats of paint, a rebuilt engine, more seating on the deck. The big engine came to life as Jay threw off lines and Greg maneuvered it away from the dock. Moving at low speed along the shoreline, decorous as a gondola, until they reached a point jutting westward, Greg Grissom pointed the boat into flat water. A dim cottony mist just above the waterline vanished as the prow cut the peaceful surface. The old boat seemed to feel her freedom as water flashed higher against the hull.
Faces turned upward as a flock of birds curved in unison toward the shore. A few minutes later, someone called out to look at the water where shiny silver fish swam in abundance.
Watching her guests, Sara remembered the first time she'd seen the sun rise while on a boat—a ship headed south, leaving the life she'd known behind her. Life did not always turn in the direction one headed, she thought, as the boat made another slow turn.
Greg cut the motor, letting the boat ride lightly on glistening water, facing east.
A moment later, the pearl morning haze was overtaken by a flash of pure white light. The flame of scarlet, the blush of pink, the warmth of tangerine filled the sky. The sea glistened as sparks of light danced on its surface. Peaks of land wore golden crowns as soft rays of the sunrise kissed faces.
In the silence, Sara heard an intake of breath; realizing seconds later, she'd heard a collective response. Her hand touched and folded into her husband's. As if a magic wand had been waved, hands touched and clasped together as the group watched the beautiful sky, proof that life could be the same.
The years seemed to disappear as the soft lullaby the waves sang washed away time for the old friends.
The End...
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