A Few Days at a Time Chapter 10
"North—northeast—road trip to where?" Sara had a bag of what she called "road trip" food in her lap. "I love road trips. How long until we get there? Do I get to guess?"
Grissom chuckled. "It's been awhile since we traveled. What's a few hours from Vegas in this direction? This is an easy one. Named by the Mormons."
"Zion!" He heard a laugh after she said the word. "Zion National Park. It's supposed to be beautiful." She leaned over and slipped her hand around his arm. "Thanks."
The interstate highway passed through desert and mountains before they turned east. Another hour got them to the national park gate, a pass for the car, and a room at the lodge. Sara had twisted her neck in all directions, gaping in awe, to take in the mountains as they drove into the canyon created by a small river over millions of years. It was the lush green trees and meadows that took her by surprise after driving through a desert for hours.
"Big trees, real trees. How do you find these places?" She asked as she brought her head inside the car. He had stopped to point out a stone arch far above their heads passing binoculars to her. "I see it! It looks so tiny!"
The sky was azure blue, cloudless, as he drove through the park loop, towering cliffs above their heads, appearing brilliant white and iron red. The dark wood lodge would have been a remarkable building in any setting, but surrounded by sheer rock walls and nestled among old trees humbled it.
"This is so beautiful!" She turned to him as he stopped in front of the long two story lodge. "And we didn't have to walk in." She playfully punched his shoulder.
"We have only one night."
They lunched outside with other tourists watching kids run around eating ice cream and old couples leaning on each other as they walked back to rooms.
"Walk or sleep?" Grissom asked. "Or we can ride the tram into the canyon."
They opted for the tram, a slow moving vehicle with open sides that made frequent stops along a narrow paved road. They walked an easy trail into a slot canyon, seeing waterfalls cascading hundreds of feet to clear cold pools, lizards sunning on flat rocks, and a peregrine falcon circling high above the canyon floor.
By the time they returned to their room, both stretched out to sleep, too tired to do anything else for now; cool sheets, the quiet, and a dark room lulled both into a nap.
Grissom woke to find one side of the bed empty or rather the space beside him was empty, and finding the room the same way, he found Sara sitting in a rocking chair on the balcony.
"Hey—missed you." He sat beside her in another chair and motioned for her to join him.
"It's so beautiful out here. I couldn't sleep long."
They sat in comfortable silence, his foot moving the chair as she settled against him. Her head rested on his shoulder.
"I love my head right here—it was made for me." She said her words so softly he would have missed them if there had been a breeze blowing.
"Sara," he said her name and, again, silence came.
Daylight was slowing changing as the sun had moved across the canyon, dusk coming much earlier here than in Las Vegas. After dinner in the lodge, they were back in the same place, hearing the night sounds of birds above their heads. They read brochures about the park, the names of the monoliths and the mountains, the building of the mile long tunnel.
Sara's hand touched Grissom's face. "What's wrong, Grissom?"
He shook his head, "nothing."
Some instinct made her ask again. "What's wrong?" Her fingertips traced the tiny lines around his eyes and moved into his hair.
"Let's go to bed." He whispered. "Everything else can wait."
She smiled. "Okay," leaving him to shower.
Sara had watched Grissom all day. Everything about him made her want him—love him if she could identify the feelings—seeing him walk along the path, his smile when he glanced at her, his delight in pointing out a lizard or the falcon, his tousled curled hair, and the childlike enthusiasm of all things he enjoyed. She wanted to know the part he kept hidden from her, the part she barely knew. She realized she would have to share her own secrets, and in her limited experience, to tell those would drive him away.
She pulled a short white nightgown from her bag, smiling as she knew it would not stay on, but perhaps it would drive some of the worry lines away from Grissom's eyes. He was sitting in a chair, feet propped on the bed when she came into the room. From the look in his eyes, she knew he wanted to say something, but instead, he stood and stared. She walked to the bed and pulled back the covers.
"Coming?" She asked.
"I—I need to shower. I won't be long." He backed across the room and disappeared. Within minutes, he was back, wearing nothing but a towel which he tossed before getting into bed. Their eyes met, understanding the same message passed between them; for a minute, neither moved until Sara sighed.
"You worry too much, Gil." She said, quietly. Her hand played along his jaw and her fingers touched his ear. She had draped one leg across him bringing him into an intimate hold with her own body. "Can you tell me?"
"Not now, honey."
Light from outside gave their bed a slight glow making her eyes and hair darker against the white sheets. His hands tugged at the white gown, pulling it over her head and tossing it away.
"Do you ever dream?" he asked. "Dreaming of something you want so badly and when you think it's yours, someone or something grabs it away?" His arms wrapped around her.
Sara's breath caught in her throat. He knew nothing of her nightmares; terrors that kept her awake and prevented her from sharing his bed every night. "Most dreams don't come true—not in real life," Sara said.
"You're right." His lips searched for hers as heat generated between the two.
For a time they forgot about dreams and worry lines and unspoken concerns. His warm hands touched her back, traced her spine to its end and brought her own passion to his. In the distance, he heard water in the Virgin River, rushing over rocks and swirling around boulders in its path. This bond between them was so much like a river, traveling an unknown course, at times deep and treacherous, sometimes smooth and easy; he wanted it to be a long river free of danger but knew what he desired was not possible.
They moved in rhythm with each other until he heard her gasp and felt her lips against his. He pulled back slightly before he kissed her again, feeling her tongue against his, her fingers in his hair, and her hand pressed against the middle of his back. There was no hurry or urgency as they made love; he heard his name whispered as she said "Gil." No other time would she say his first name but in this room, in the park named after a holy place, he knew she was his chosen one. It caused his head to ache as he held her and uneasiness and apprehension crept into his brain.
Sara slept content to be held and to hold him. In the dim light, Grissom could see her relaxed face; a slight smile parted her lips as she dreamed. A good dream, he thought. He moved hair away from her face and kissed her. They could not continue to keep their relationship a secret, but he had no solution—not one he wanted.
A/N: We will be away from internet access until late Saturday or early Sunday--read, enjoy, leave us a note!