A/N: Enjoy!

A Pleasing Finale

Chapter 11

Over several days, they set up a temporary work station that included hanging the hammock between two trees. They marked a grid with small flags, labeled envelopes for caterpillars, leaves, and droppings or frass. They would observe the captured caterpillars, feed them and compare their frass to what they found in the forest. While the adult identification of this particular caterpillar had not been established—Grissom was certain it was one of the hundreds of butterflies—it would be become one on a list of several hundred; the new interest in caterpillars' unique ability to fertilize was the foundation of their grant. It's all about poop, Grissom liked to say.

"It's amazing how similar this is to working a crime scene," Sara remarked one morning as she scooped fresh droppings into her gloved hand.

"Smells different," Grissom said from his perch just above her head.

In three days they had discovered the caterpillar they hunted lived at least four feet above the ground and Grissom, on a ladder, had discovered one eight feet high happily munching on leaves shaded by taller foliage. They followed protocols set by previous researchers. One of every five caterpillars was placed in a bag to study. A handful of leaves went into the bag; another handful in another bag. Each plant was marked on their grid, matched to its former occupant, the caterpillar, with a number so they could return and collect more leaves as needed.

Sara eyed the distance between ground and Grissom's height on the ladder. Droppings, appearing as tiny black oval-shaped seeds, would be found within a three foot radius of where the caterpillar was found. She had already learned distinguishing characteristics of "'pillar poop" as she named it.

Good days—clear skies, bright sun—helped them establish a routine they would follow for weeks ahead. A wishful hope of a gradual fading of Sara's mid-day sickness had not occurred, however, she adapted—throwing up mid-morning was followed by a long nap and ravenous hunger. She worked alongside Grissom until she vomited her breakfast—and it happened almost every day—and then she slept in the hammock as her equilibrium righted until Grissom woke her for their short walk back to the house. She found she could eat with every step she took on their return trip and this fought off the weak dizziness she had previously experienced.

Grissom marveled at her stamina and resilience when she tromped ahead of him and pointed out birds, butterflies, an occasional monkey, and did not complain even when queasiness hit her as a fist in the belly and doubled her over. She crawled into the hammock with a bottle of water, insisting "this will pass" and urging him to continue with his work. He knew her acceptance of this temporary illness was due to its cause—often a predictor of a positive outcome of pregnancy.

Afternoons, they worked with their specimens in shared isolation—others had their own work to do, volunteers arrived weekly to help with long-term studies—and when they finished, they headed back into the rainforest to explore the area trekking higher or lower brought a new perspective of plant and animal life. They found a flower filled meadow, the oddly cleared vacant remains of a former plantation, where the forest had yet to completely cover cleared land. They had stepped from a densely covered path to the open field and discovered the colors and scents of thousands of flowers. And among the flowers, moving as if they were carried on a breeze, were butterflies and hummingbirds brighter than the flowers.

A similar sound came from both in the form of a soft explosion of amazement. They glanced at each other, smiles forming on their faces.

"It's how I imagine paradise," Sara whispered.

Grissom looked at her, perplexed lines forming on his forehead. "Paradise as in Garden of Eden?"

She laughed. "An ideal place, dear." She reached for his hand and pulled him to the ground. "They don't even know to be frightened of us," she said as a hummingbird fluttered between their faces seeming to hang in mid air until its curiosity was satisfied and it returned to the field.

Grissom watched as Sara cleared a small circle for them to sit; their eyes just above the tallest blooms. And while she watched the field of flowers, he watched her—his eyes moving from the elaborate dance of butterflies to the spellbound face of his wife. She caught him once and asked: "What?"

His hands wrapped around her waist and he pulled her between his legs so her back rested against his chest. They sat watching nature at play, comfortable with the quietness, only occasionally pointing to a specific bird or butterfly, until the afternoon sun made shadows that formed a crescent shade across the meadow and they knew it was time to leave this place.

At night, they worked on making the cottage into a home by spreading their belonging across the open room, a stack of books next to the sofa, a laptop on a small table, a blue shawl draped across the back of a chair. They ate simple meals at a table large enough for a family, jointly cleaned the kitchen, washed their clothes and laughed as they relearned how to hang wet clothes with wooden pegs.

As in Vegas, the bedroom was their haven with Grissom spreading clothes across most surfaces while Sara's things were carefully arranged on a dresser or in the wardrobe cabinet. And the room smelled of Sara, he thought—above every lush fragrance of the surrounding forest, her scent belonged here.

After their early morning lovemaking in the bathroom, both made good-natured complaints and decided the huge bed with its very comfortable mattress and mosquito net covering was much more suitable for enhancing certain pleasurable activities. Their accomplishment of pregnancy seemed to bring a fierce passion to their nights, a satisfaction in pleasure, which, as others had done before and would do in future nights, they believed to be unique—only between them.

One night, he said, "This is where we have always been coming to, Sara. Since our time began. This will be our midpoint." His hand caressed her hip, her belly, and moved to the valley between her breasts. "You hold my time," he said. "My past and my future—my center." And very slowly, with infinite gentle diversions to other parts of her body, they grew warm together in pleasure that intensified into those feelings of passionate ecstasy.

Almost two weeks after the home pregnancy test had shown positive, Sara and Grissom stepped inside a clinic for pregnant women for an afternoon appointment. Nora had a connection with the clinic from her last pregnancy and had helped make the appointment.

"There's a new doctor—from the States—from Texas—Dr. Ashley Torres," she said. "Costa Ricans love babies—so there're always lots of pregnant women. The clinic will be crowded but appointments are taken first."

Sara and Grissom stepped into an immaculately clean waiting room, whitewashed walls decorated with posters of babies, a colorful tile floor, plastic chairs around the room, and almost filled with women in varying stages of pregnancy. Grissom was the only male in the room and the women smiled and murmured greetings to these strangers and obvious foreigners.

Within minutes, Sara's name was called; Grissom followed her, turned at the doorway, smiled and raised his hand in the widely recognized sign for 'peace' or for victory. His gesture caused a twitter of laughter from those in the waiting room.

The nurse, speaking English far better than Sara's Spanish, asked dozens of questions, keying answers onto a touch screen. As she took vital signs she explained directions for the upcoming exam and handed Sara a small cup.

"The toilet and changing area—a gown for the exam." The nurse pointed to a closed door.

Sara followed instructions, including ones on a posted sign to place her urine cup on a small circular shelf before turning it. But she did not change into a disposable paper gown.

"I refuse to meet someone for the first time wearing something kin to a paper towel!" She told Grissom when she returned to the examining room.

He was laughing at her adamant refusal to change her clothes when a soft knock indicated the arrival of the physician; both looked at the door as it opened slowly. And whatever unspoken expectations they had for Dr. Ashley Torres dissipated as the young doctor entered the room.

Grissom quickly glanced at Sara; her eyes flicked to his in recognition of preconceived beliefs which had immediately vanished. Dr. Torres was male—a tall, Nordic blonde, blue-eyed young man in a white lab coat. Extending his hand, he said with a slight Texas drawl, "Mr. and Mrs. Grissom—it's nice to meet you."

In five minutes the young man explained two things—how he came to be in Costa Rica: "I spent years here with my surfing parents" and how he got his name: "my mother loved Ashley Wilkes" he said with such sparkle in his eyes Sara knew he had encountered many people who assumed, as she had, that Ashley was female. He reviewed her answers to previously asked questions, made his own notes, confirmed she had tested positive with the urine test, asked additional questions, and finally asked if Sara had questions.

They talked about morning sickness; the doctor assured her she was doing the right things and it should eventually disappear.

"Does this mean I'm definitely pregnant?"

The doctor's quiet laugh showed a row of flawless straight teeth. "We'll do blood testing, too. And, if you like, I can check you today—usually the cervix becomes bluish in color and with someone your size, I should be able to feel the uterus."

"Let me change," Sara said and quickly disappeared behind the closed door to the small changing room. By the time she returned, the two men were talking about the research facility, the environment, and caterpillar research. She stood, hands on her hips until Grissom patted the examining table as he continued talking. "I'm the patient here," she said with a good-natured grumble, "not some fat caterpillar!"

Sara propped heels in the position needed for the procedure; Dr. Torres snapped on gloves and moved between her knees. His bright eyes appeared above her sheet covered knees in less than a minute. "Oh, yes, definitely pregnant!"

"I knew it!" Grissom exclaimed, his face lit up with a wide smile.

"Are you sure?" Sara asked at the same time, a slight frown puckering her forehead.

"Oh, yes. Positively positive—you are pregnant." Dr. Torres' hand gently prodded her belly. "Definitely a firm uterus—tell me again the date of your last period," he said before carefully covering her and pushing his stool to her side. She told him the date he requested. "Every thing feels 'right' and it's early days yet but you can have a sonogram easily—it's done as a business here. But I would suggest—and I can make the appointment—going to Clinica Biblica Hospital in San Jose. What we do here is very basic—the hospital is adequate—a very good rural hospital." The young man glanced from Grissom to Sara several times as he continued to talk. "But you may want a more experienced doctor, more high-tech testing and equipment. Clinica Biblica has specialists in obstetrics who are world-class physicians."

Softly, Sara said, "It's four hours away."

"It is—near your due date you would have to stay in San Jose. Or you may decide to return to the States for delivery—that would be six to eight weeks before your due date."

"Is there a reason—a need for us to go to Clinica Biblica?" Grissom asked, worry creeping into his voice.

"No! Nothing to indicate anything is wrong—nothing like that. Some couples want amniocentesis, a scheduled c-section, a more—a more expensive setting—and Clinica Biblica is a top rated hospital."

Sara asked, "Do we have to decide today?"

Dr. Torres smiled. "No—today, I'm giving you prenatal vitamins and confirming what you've known. We'll do some blood work—check your iron level. Have you two been checked for Rh compatibility?" Both nodded. "Good—come back in a month—call for an appointment or just walk-in, and we'll weigh you, check your blood pressure. And we can check for heart beat. If you decide you want to go to Clinica Biblica, we can set you up then. Right now—congratulations on your baby." He checked Sara's chart and tapped the screen several times. "Here's your due date—a good month to have a baby—may I be the first to wish you a happy mother's day!"

A/N: Have a great day-enjoy, read, review, next chapter soon!