A/N: A long chapter for a beautiful weekend! Enjoy!
A Pleasing Finale
Chapter 14
For several days, Betty and Greg followed Grissom and Sara into the forest, collecting leaves and caterpillars. Betty refused to "scoop poop" as Greg called it, but she had no qualms about plucking fat green worms from underneath leaves. They also set a dozen butterflies free—one with an official name and now identified by its caterpillar and food source.
So many volunteers came to visit the facility, the arrival of two more barely caused a notice, except for Betty's sign language. The children immediately noticed the hand motions and watched from a distance until she waved them over. Sara served as Betty's voice as she explained the loss of hearing and how Betty communicated with her hands. Nora's oldest daughter, a young teenager who had been away in school for several months, took a keen interest in learning as many words as possible and followed Betty and Sara around for several days.
Sara was certain Jessica's interest in sign language was sincere, but she also thought Greg's presence might add to the girl's fascination with their new guests, until a brief conversation with Nora.
"Run Jessica back to her own house, Sara. I don't want her to be a pest," Nora said.
Sara laughed, "She's no pest—and she and Betty are entertaining each other with sign language."
"She's really curious about your pregnancy," Nora explained. "She's thirteen—in an all-girl's school—away from home for three months at a time. She comes home and we've all changed—she's growing up." Nora's eyes revealed an anxiety not normally present.
Sara waved her hand. "She's fine; don't worry." Betty and Jessica were several yards ahead of the two women. "I'll show her the ultrasound of the baby. It's pretty amazing."
"She'll be on your porch every morning, Sara. Tell her to go home when you tire of her."
Smiling, Sara said, "She'll move on to someone or something else soon."
The next day, in a rented car, the Grissom's and Greg left for the beach. Volunteers would feed the caterpillars and take notes while they were gone.
Compared to the drive from San Jose, the drive to the coast was short and enjoyable. At the end of a tree-lined paved road they reached their beach destination and climbed several levels of stairs to the rental unit, which was like a Swiss Family Robinson tree house nestled in sprawling branches in a tropical forest. All the bedrooms faced the ocean and were joined by a shared veranda shaded by massive vines. A spiral staircase climbed to a roof top deck, open to the sky and with a view of the beach and ocean far below.
In the afternoon, they walked along the beach, timing waves and watching as a dark cloud on the horizon changed the color of the sea. Quickly, the water became choppy, bringing bigger swells and little splashing bursts of smaller waves. Swimmers and body surfers floated and swam like friendly seals. Dozens of shells washed in with the bigger waves and Betty and Sara stayed busy collecting olives, slipper, cockles, and cat's paws, each one prettier than a previous one. Greg ventured into the water, nearly getting knocked over by a big wave that drenched him from neck to feet. After that, he stayed in the water, laughing as he tried to body surf in waves that would not cooperate.
A light rain began to fall, a warm tropical drizzle that felt like the moisture-saturated air inside a cloud.
Betty signed, "It feels like silk."
That night, they followed a raised boardwalk to the resort's restaurant where strings of lights turned the night into shades of blue and purple and rock music mixed with the steady percussion of the waves. Greg and Grissom ate roasted pork spiced with citrus and achiote spiced juices wrapped in banana leaves while Betty and Sara ordered the vegetarian selection—arroz verde or green rice, beans and mango served with rajas con crema—peppers with cream, and roasted corn.
At the end of the meal, Betty signed "We possess a kind of wealth, a small fortune, to live like this."
During the night, when Sara heard Greg's snoring in the next room, she nuzzled Grissom awake with soft kisses along his throat. "Let's go to the roof," she whispered.
They pulled pillows and sheets from the bed and climbed the stairs—carefully to keep the metal steps from creaking. They moved chairs and spread the sheets across cushions from the chairs. The breeze from the ocean cleared the air of bugs and made the leaves of trees rustle with an echo of a restless sea.
The night sky had cleared, brightened with stars and a sliver of moon yet the deep darkness hid the ocean except for the white tops of cresting curls.
"Big waves," Grissom commented as they stood next to a flimsy net that marked the edge of the deck. He ran hands along Sara's shoulders that pushed the thin strap of her top to her arms. With a simple shrug, it dropped to her feet. His breath caught at the sight of her luminous skin, her dark areolas appearing as symmetrical flowers to a hidden garden. He reached to touch one with his finger, gently, delicately circling the area before she leaned against him.
Silently, they moved to the simple bed they had made of cushions and sheets. Slowly, he let himself be drawn and enticed by the scent and warmth around him—the strength of their love, the healthy beauty of Sara's body, felt her growing desire, and knew she wished to be loved tonight in a different way. She wanted his hunger, his passion, his undivided attention.
He bent to her face and began to kiss her—her lips first, moving to her smooth cheeks, the tip of her nose, the space between her eyes. He watched as the gentle light inundated her body; he followed delicate shadows as he kissed her. Sara held still as though under a charm of moonlight until his tongue reached the middle of her abdomen and flicked against her skin; she giggled and felt his teeth as he grinned.
Loving Gil Grissom, being loved by him, had changed Sara's life with unquestionable certainty. She knew, but never voiced, her brain had shifted the day he found her in Costa Rica, and while her appearance, her voice, her genes never changed, everything that came from her brain saw life differently. She smiled when his finger stroked her and she felt the muscles of her butt clench in response.
Gently, Grissom lifted her up, centered her, then lowered her slowly onto his erection. She emitted a hushed cry, more an audible gasp than a sound; his palms slid upwards to cover both breasts before grasping her as his hips began a rhythmic pumping—slowly, gently, taking time for tempo to increase. Sara leaned forward, meeting his lips with hers.
This was the way she was loved—tenderly, confidently, carefully modulating rhythm with meticulous determination, all the while he kissed her with such open adoration—at times she wanted to cry tears of joy for all the world to see. Grissom played her, worked her until the rooftop swayed, the earth's axis wobbled before it exploded, and she was a puddle on the sheets.
Afterwards, wrapped together in a cocoon of white sheets, Grissom promised to tell his mother their plans to remain in Costa Rica.
"She'll be fine—especially when you invite her to be here—are you sure you want it to be this way?" Grissom was propped on his elbow and using one finger to trace some invisible design along Sara's body.
"Yes," she stated. "More so now than a month ago." She snuggled against him. "As this has never happened to me before, everything is new—I've read so much I think my brain has turned into an encyclopedia on child birth! And I still don't know enough!" She laughed and placed a finger on his cheek in a light caress. "Dr. Torres is a good doctor—the local hospital will be fine." She kissed him, lightly, and then smiled. "This is a good life—Betty was right tonight. We do possess a great wealth." Her eyes closed as she placed her head on his shoulder.
Another month passed. Sara realized what she felt was movement of her baby; puzzled at first by the odd, unfamiliar flutter just below the center of her belly. Flowers bloomed and wilted. The caterpillars in the forest developed into cocoons, and the rains came. This was the time when Sara and Grissom had intended to return to Vegas but instead, they remained at the research facility, both able to assist others when they were not cataloging notes and working on their own project.
They ate meals with their neighbors, shopped in the local market, and provided amusing entertainment to the children at the research center. Grissom remembered every scientific trick and joke he had ever done; they made chewing gum from the resin of the sapodilla tree, lit up a pickle, turned urine blue, lifted fingerprints, and blew up several plastic containers while pretending their experiment had gone wrong.
And Sara seemed to grow a pregnant tummy overnight. Everyone commented on what appeared to be this sudden, obvious display of pregnancy. Dr. Torres assured her this was normal. She walked into the clinic twice during the month and waited with a dozen other pregnant women and learned certain things—foods to eat for indigestion, which market stall had the best diaper cloth, another one with beautiful baby clothes.
Young Jessica visited every day. She begged Sara to talk with her mother; the girl did not want to return to boarding school. Over several days, an on-going conversation about school and college, family and friends developed between the two. Jessica did not know, and Sara would never tell her, but Sara had decided in the first minutes of their discussion to take Jessica's case to her mother. When Sara offered to tutor Jessica in math and physics, Nora and Dan relented. They wanted their daughter at home, but they wanted her well-prepared for college.
They set a schedule—after a mid-day rest, Jessica and Sara spent time together—two days of math, three days of science to introduce energy, matter, force and motion and how they related to each other. The next week, the schedule changed to three days of math and two days of physics. Jessica thrived.
One afternoon, during a steady, gray rain when everyone seemed to disappear inside houses, a small red van drove over the bridge and into the research facility grounds. The driver seemed to be lost for a minute or so before the car turned toward the Grissom house. Grissom got up from his desk and went to the porch. Sara followed.
"Are you expecting someone?" She asked, peering at the vehicle as it stopped several yards from the house. She could barely see the hat-wearing driver inside, moving from the driver's seat to the back seat.
Grissom opened the screen door just as the back door of the vehicle slid open; he made a soft whistle and a big brown furry animal made three leaping jumps to the front porch.
Sara shouted "Hank!" several times as the dog sailed from the van, passed Grissom and went to her. For a minute or so, chaos surrounded the two people as the dog wove around legs and licked faces; the humans patted and hugged the dog until Sara looked up to find the driver and another person standing on the porch.
"Nick! Jim!" Surprise and shock registered as her butt dropped to the porch. Hank tried to climb into her lap.
Nick and Grissom slapped each other on the back and grinned at their ability to keep a secret. Sara struggled to push the dog aside and rise. Jim Brass extended his hand to her and when she stood, Nick whistled.
"Look at you! You look like you've swallowed a—a cantaloupe!" He hugged Sara, backed away to look at her at arm's length. "You look good—really good!"
"Ignore him," Brass advised. "What does he know about pregnant women?" And he hugged Sara with such force she was always knocked off her feet.
The red mini-van was hers Grissom announced. He had ordered it from a dealer in San Jose and the two men had delivered it to her along with her dog.
"With a dog and a baby, we needed good transportation," he explained.
Nick and Brass stayed a week and for a week it rained. They walked in the forest covered in rain gear, shopped as mud slopped around their feet and drove through a downpour to reach an active volcano where rivulets of muddy water were so deep they stayed in the parking lot instead of venturing on a trail. But none of them seemed to care as they talked and laughed about a thousand subjects.
"And you really are going to stay here for delivery?" Nick asked at dinner one night. "And does Betty know this?"
Sara eyed Grissom, saying nothing.
"The hospital is a good one. We like this doctor," Grissom said. "And I haven't told my mother—so don't you tell her." He chuckled. "Even though that might be a good idea!"
Another month passed, the daily rains stopped, and there was a strange new smell. It was a green smell, of plants and trees and sap. Flowers bloomed in unbelievable profusion, and wildlife thrived. Every morning, a cacophony of bird songs and monkey twittering woke Sara and Grissom. Their first report on their research had been completed and well received by the reviewers. And Sara flourished.
She had taken a plain, scantily furnished house and added personal items to make it their home. Few things had been brought with them, so most of her "decorating" had come from items purchased in the local market—brilliantly colored crimson, sunflower yellow, peacock blues, nothing pale or pastel. On shelves she had placed bottles, bowls, and unusual paperweights; she found woodcuts of native animals and hung these on the white walls.
Nearly every night, they read, not scientific journals and research, but novels and mysteries, fiction and non-fiction, loaned from others or Grissom's beloved and battered Shakespeare. Sara would read a passage aloud adding "I want to see this place" and he would read a mystery book and solve the ending better than the author.
Grissom did not hide his amazement at the transformation taking place before his eyes as Sara's pregnancy progressed. His scientific mind knew the course of life but his eyes and emotions saw something else as Sara grew into motherhood. During the day, she worked beside him as she had always done; an unspoken connection between them caused her hand to appear when both his hands were full. He would present her with food and drink before she knew she was hungry or thirsty. At home and in bed, he noticed how her hands would clasp together under her breasts in some ancient protectiveness of the life she carried and he was awed by this strange, yet common experience.
"Are you afraid?" He asked when he took her in his arms one night.
"Not in the least. It's funny, you know. How I can gain weight but it isn't heavy—not yet anyway," she said as she stroked his hair and kissed his eyes and he responded with an aching desire. She loved him when he was most vulnerable, unguarded, mystified by all of it.
At the end of her sixth month, Sara insisted Grissom tell his mother their plans. "You can't delay any longer," she insisted. "She asks every week when will we return—have I thought about what we want in a nursery, have I thought about formula or breast feeding."
"Have you?" Grissom raised an eyebrow.
She stuck her elbow into his chest. "Tell her!" She smirked. "Then I'll tell you my plans."
"Will you decide on names?" Grissom asked as he lifted the sheet, running his hand over her protruding belly. "Hey, little bean! Your mother won't decide on a name! We may have to call you 'Baby Moonbeam Flowers in a Meadow'" he said with a laugh.
Sara teased, "I haven't seen a list of names you like, dear!"
He had disappeared underneath the sheet; she felt his fingers tickling her thighs. Giggling, she lifted her knees to trap his head and heard a deep, rumbling laugh right before he kissed her.
A/N: Two more chapters for this story. We will be taking a break from writing fanfiction for a while after we finish this story due to other things going on. We still have a few ideas to develop, but not sure when or if we will write these as stories. Really do hate to say this, but interest in CSI (and GSR as a result) seems to be at an all-time low.
So, please enjoy the closing chapters-review if you think we have written a good story-the reading is free, all we ask is a comment from you! Some of you are like good friends-alway encouraging, always review, and we appreciate your comments more than you know! Thanks...