A/N: Final chapter-it is a long one. Enjoy! Then, do us a favor-leave a comment! Your encouragement is what gets us thinking about the next story!
Old Sins Have Long Shadows
Chapter 20
15 months later:
The door bell rang twice before Sara found her way around scattered toys and, in the process, discovered her missing shoe on the foot of her daughter; she hurried across the living room as her young son ran ahead of her, tumbling to the floor in front of her before she reached the door. Both toddlers were babbling a constant string of sounds.
Swinging the door open, Sara welcomed their visitor, saying, "You are early!" and then, as she turned toward the room, added, "and, as usual, things are a mess!"
A white-to-blonde haired toddler was trying to stand on his head, giggling as his curly hair spilled around his head. His dark-haired sister was attempting to sit on a ball while wearing a high-heeled shoe; both children resembled their father more than their mother. As their visitor was welcomed, two pairs of sparkling blue eyes brightened with squeals and little legs scrambled as they hurried toward the two women.
Brianna Collins strode into the room, laughing and leaning over to pick up young Michael. "How's my best boy?" She handled the boy with gentle familiarity and his response was one of equal ease. "I knew you would need time to dress! I'll take them outside. Come with us, Anna. Mommy needs to get dressed!"
Sara's thanks came with a hug. She said, "You are a mind-reader!" She scooped up her daughter, removed the shoe from the small foot, and followed Brianna into the back yard.
A patio and backyard that had once been a place of peaceful existence for plants and birds had been transformed into a play place for two small children. Brightly colored push toys, ride-on giraffes, balls, two swings, and a sandbox on the patio had made a different kind of yard.
The children scrambled toward the toys, forgetting either adult, in their excitement.
"Thank you so much, Brianna."
The young woman smiled, saying "I love keeping them, Sara! You don't call often enough! Adam is coming later with pizza—we'll get them bathed and in bed." She pointed toward the house. "Go! Get ready! I can't wait to see your dress!"
Brianna Collins had become the chief baby-sitter for the Grissom twins by accident or design—Sara thought by accident. But her husband had developed a plan. Two weeks after the births of Anna and Michael, he had suddenly thought of Brianna, a nursing student, as the perfect person to call. Sara did not want to leave the babies with anyone but, as he and Brianna planned, the young woman dropped by the house late one afternoon and insisted she would babysit while the new parents made a quick trip to get milkshakes.
A week later, Brianna returned with Adam, and the two showed Sara they could manage the two babies while Grissom took her to dinner. Less than an hour later, the parents returned but Sara's trust grew over several months as Brianna demonstrated skills and a blossoming talent with the growing infants.
Returning to the bedroom, Sara was relieved to have Brianna as her reliable sitter—everyone else would be at the wedding. She picked up her dress, a cobalt blue with one shirred shoulder strap secured at the center of her chest with a large flashy pin.
"Brianna came early," she called to her husband.
Gil Grissom appeared in the doorway of the bathroom. "Thank goodness—help me with this darn tie."
Sara wrapped arms around his shoulders and in one minute had the tie in place. "You look very handsome." It was not often they dressed in formal attire for any occasion.
Fifteen minutes later, Sara stood in front of the mirror and examined her dress, running her palm over the shirred skirt. When she caught Grissom watching her, she laughed, saying "I feel like I'm going to a royal wedding." She tugged on the ostentatious pin.
Grissom grinned. "You are—as near as it gets in Vegas." He checked his watch. "We'll be in time for the cocktail party—or whatever it's called." He raised a finger, saying "I do have one more thing." He disappeared into the closet, quickly returning with a small box.
"A gift from my mother." Flipping the top so she could see inside, he said, "She said this one would be better than the one that came on the dress."
Inside the box was a delicate, exquisitely carved shimmering cameo, a woman in profile, on a dark blue enamel background, surrounded by small pearls and a band of gold. Sara lifted it out of the box.
"It's called a Cameo Habille—a jewel within a jewel. My mother got it years ago at an estate sale. It may not be a diamond crown for a royal wedding but it suits you." Grissom took it from her fingers, slipped the one from her dress, and deftly pinned the cameo in its place. His hand patted the cameo and then cupped her breast. Smiling suggestively, he whispered, "I love your body."
Sara giggled, "Maybe tonight," her eyebrows lifted. "Unless you pass out on the way home—then I'll leave you in the car to sleep."
He made an evocative expression, softly laughed, and said, "I think I remember a time when we would have sex for hours—and sleep and make love again! Without worrying about those little noises on the baby monitor!"
Laying her head on his shoulder, Sara said, "We are so fortunate, Gil. Two perfect little babies." She kissed him, on the mouth, quickly darting her tongue between his lips as he quickly responded.
When they broke the kiss, Grissom said, "And now it is time to leave—we need to say goodbye." He sighed, "That may take ten minutes or an hour."
It took a few minutes. After a brief disruption in play—the two toddlers preferred to dig in the sand box and barely waved a goodbye—Grissom and Sara headed to one of the newest casinos on the Strip for the wedding of Lindsay Willows and Sean Oliver.
"Adam is coming later," Sara said to Grissom. "Do you think she'll ever agree to marry him?"
Grissom chuckled, "I think she will—Brianna wants to be independent for a while." Softly, he chuckled again as he took her hand. "Sort of reminds me of someone I knew once—didn't want to be 'smothered' or some such nonsense."
Sara threw her head back and laughed. "Did I really say that?"
When they pulled into the courtyard entrance to the Eclipse Casino, vehicles were already lined up; dozens of young men rushed to cars to assist the elegantly dressed guests and usher them into the arched entrance. Stone statuary, verdant sculpted plants, and blossoming flowers lined the portico and curved into a luxuriant formal garden set on several levels giving the effect of private retreat.
As they entered the building, Grissom said, "It really is breathtaking." He laughed, "Should I expect anything but spectacular from Catherine?"
The grand staircase that curved upward to a grand ballroom rivaled any in Vegas—any in the world, was Sara's guess. Noisy, excited chatter resounded off mirrored walls as she swept her gaze across the room. Enormous sprays of white flowers—roses, she thought, from the fragrance—were arranged around the area.
Insane, Sara thought, as she watched an army of young servers carrying trays of canapés and bubbling wine among hundreds of guests—all wearing formal evening attire. She knew she had never been in a room with so much beaded silk and so many starched white shirts. She also knew that among the guests were those who's economic muscle and back-room connections ran Las Vegas—more so than the bevy of politicians, also in attendance, who were there to honor the newlyweds.
Then she saw Catherine, standing near the staircase, shaking hands with guests. Sara did not know how the bride could be more beautiful than the mother-of-the-bride. Catherine's pale lavender dress sparkled under twinkling chandeliers; her hair was pulled back with a hair ornament that flashed and flickered producing a light of its own.
Jim Brass and Nick Stokes were the first to see them, both asking what had taken so long for them to arrive and after a party like this, what would come later—Sara whispered her knowledge of the wedding event.
"Over two hundred guests are coming to the wedding." She smiled as she said, "And all are invited to the dinner and dance afterwards." She pointed upstairs. "Dinner up there—wedding here. All the flowers are real!" She pointed to the open doors across the room. "And the bride will make her entrance coming down the stairs." In a quieter voice, she continued, "The wedding ceremony is a simple affair—the real money is spent for the reception!"
Nick's eyes rolled.
Brass chuckled, saying, "Can't think of a better way to spend old Sam's money." He lifted an amber colored beverage skyward.
More friends gathered and, gradually, they moved toward Catherine who said, "I've got to go upstairs to change my dress—thirty minutes until the ceremony!" She kissed Sara's cheek and turned to Grissom. "It's you who started this, Gil." She laughed, "And I like my soon-to-be-son-in-law!"
Later, as guests were seated in gold painted chairs in the luxurious ballroom—not to be mistaken for the upstairs grand ballroom—music filled the room and quieted the crowd. Sara gazed at the ceiling which was painted to resemble an evening sky. Around the room, flowers seemed to climb brick walls—all creamy white to a pale yellow color. More arrangements of flowers decorated a raised platform and climbed around a trellis. Roses, white and yellow, marked an aisle separating rows of chairs. A wall, built to move, silently disappeared so the guests could see the grand staircase.
Shortly, a procession of young men, dressed in the latest wedding fashion, entered the room from several directions. They were followed by young women, dressed in gowns of varying shades of gray with a wide ribbon of yellow tied at their waist. The girls, carrying bouquets of white and yellow flowers, slowly made their way down the stairs and to the front.
Nervously, Nick twisted in his chair; Sara thought he was looking for Mandy who was seated two rows behind them. Greg and Morgan had come together; Sara wasn't sure if it was an official date or just as friends. Gently, Grissom took Sara's hand and smiled as the procession of young women seemed to go on forever. When the last attendant reached the front and found her place on the steps, the music changed to the familiar wedding march.
Guests turned, eyes lifted. A muffled intake of air seemed to wave from the last row of chairs seconds before the rest of the guests got their first glimpse of the bride and her mother.
The two women, from a distance, could be sisters, Sara thought. Catherine had changed her dress—now she wore a floral pattern-fitted dress with a flowing shawl-an elegant dress beautiful in its simplicity. But few noticed Catherine because at her side Lindsey was a radiant bride.
The image of a princess, Sara thought, as the bride and her mother stepped carefully down each rung of the staircase. Sara had seen the bride's dress hanging on a dressmaker's mannequin but the intricate lace design had only been implied. She also knew it was a vintage-style designer dress, chosen for the dramatic silhouette on Lindsay's slim figure as she entered the ballroom. A long train and veil swept behind her—more lace, tulle, and satin—as the bride and Catherine walked slowly up the aisle.
The bride's bouquet was a cascade of white roses and orchids laced with feathery green that reached Lindsay's knees. A collective intake of air indicated everyone in the room was awed by the bride's appearance.
Grissom leaned over to Sara's ear, whispering, "Please tell me Anna won't have a wedding like this!"
Sara squeezed his hand. "I don't even want to think about it, dear."
All too quickly, the customary marriage ceremony was performed; the bride and groom smiled, kissed, and walked down the aisle, stopping several times to acknowledge certain guests. When Lindsey stopped at the end of the row of chairs where Sara and Grissom sat, she waved her hand for Grissom to step closer.
Everyone around them laughed as she placed a kiss on Grissom's cheek and hugged him with both arms. Sean shook his hand. Lindsay's recognition was done in the spirit of recognizing one of the few guests who had known her most of her life. The couple continued down the aisle as the guests applauded. And then the procession of attendants followed the newlyweds.
The following hours were filled with magnificence—no other word would describe it in Sara's thoughts. The grand ballroom had been decorated with so much greenery and flowers it could have been Butchard Gardens without the waterfalls—but there were fountains. Huge lighted globes hung from the ceiling that had been painted to have the appearance of a botanical conservatory. People roamed around openly admiring the decorations, finding friends and acquaintances—and divided as they often do at such events. Young friends stayed near the couple, friends of parents divided into their own groups, and took liberties at rearranging seating arrangements.
Dinner was extravagant, generous, and rich in taste. Food and champagne flowed for what seemed like hours until the band struck a playful song and the bride, groom, and their attendants bounded to the dance floor and performed a beautiful choreographed dance before pulling others onto the floor to join them. For several fun and danced filled hours, the wedding was celebrated with a party—and Sara danced—with Grissom, with Jim and Nick, with Greg and D.B.—and finally with the groom as Grissom danced with Lindsay.
Sometime after midnight, Sara and Grissom unlocked their front door to find another couple—Brianna and Adam—watching an old movie. Immediately, Brianna jumped up, a broad smile across her face.
"We have an announcement to make!" She held up her left hand.
There was no way to miss the engagement ring on her finger.
"You finally said yes!" Sara said as she took Brianna's hand. "When? Tonight? It's a beautiful ring!"
Brianna laughed, nodding her head. "Right here in your living room where he asked me months ago!"
Grissom said, "Took long enough—now how long before we have a wedding?"
Adam answered, "Not too long—I hope! We have a place to live—I have enough vacation time for a honeymoon to Italy, and" he glanced at Brianna, "I don't want her to back out!"
There was a quiet celebration before the young couple left making promises to invite Sara and Grissom to a very small wedding. "Probably at a wedding chapel on the Strip," Brianna said with a laugh. "I know it's corny, but we think it would be fun!"
A few minutes later, as Grissom and Sara stood over their daughter's crib, Grissom said, "I hope to live long enough to see Anna," he paused, seeming to search for words, "grow into a young lady—like Lindsay and Brianna."
Nodding, Sara tucked a blanket around the toddler; turning, she did the same to Michael.
When she looked at her children, her heart filled in an unexpected way. Many times she had wondered how a mother became a mother—and the day they were born, she learned—space opened in her heart and brain that she had not known was there.
The children were beautiful, not only to her but to strangers who saw them in the park or at a store. Michael's expression was always one of happiness, a smile always on his face. He seemed to have an inherent knowledge about situations and people that was rarely wrong. His likeness to his father was amazing—the cleft in his chin was obvious, but the child had the same blue eyes, the same graceful hands, even the same toes of his father. No one mistook the parentage of little Michael.
Quietly, she moved back to Anna's crib where her husband stood, his finger twirling an unruly curl. He said, "She's so beautiful."
"Yes," Sara agreed as they watched their daughter sleep.
Anna was a curious combination of quietness and thoughtful expression; she smiled but not as quickly as her brother. Her light blue eyes, not quite her father's but a throwback to some unknown ancestor, were intelligent with none of the wandering attention span of her brother—or other children her age. She was already stringing words together that amazed her parents. Her dark curly hair was the only noticeable concession to Sara's genes, yet Grissom believed much of her personality and intelligence came from Sara. A turn of her mouth, a hint of a smile, a glimpse from underneath long dark lashes—Grissom knew Anna's mother had those same adorable traits.
Grissom kissed the back of his wife's neck. "Bed, dear."
Sara wrapped her arm around his waist. As they left the bedroom, she whispered, "And you didn't go to sleep in the car!" Her fingers tickled his ribs.
Grissom's arm had slipped around her shoulders but as they left the nursery, his hand went to her hair where his finger lifted several loose curls that had fallen from her swept up twist. By the time they had reached their bedroom doorway, Sara's shoes were off, his tie was loosened, and the twist no longer held her hair.
Smiling, he stroked her cheek; she closed her eyes. He had no trouble finding the zipper to her dress and slowly worked it downward, then with very deliberate motions, pulled the fabric from her shoulder.
Her breathing quickened as he softly pressed his lips to her neck. When she swallowed, the sensation was unexpectedly erotic and Grissom felt a heaviness in his lower body as he grew hard. He continued to kiss her neck, whisper-soft, his lips barely grazing her soft skin. Taking her face between his hands, he touched lips to her chin, and continued moving along the graceful curve of bone beneath smooth skin. When he reached her ear, Sara held her breath as his tongue and teeth nipped at her lobe, and he heard her sigh.
Slowly, sensual, they danced to an unheard melody across the floor to their bed, clothes unhurriedly leaving their bodies. Instinct drove them; anticipation consumed them. More than pleasure pushed their bodies onto the bed—it was the power and energy of unbounded potential.
His mouth hovered over hers; their eyes met and they smiled. In the other's eyes, each recognized the same thought, the same desire, the same driving need. He lowered his mouth on hers and the moment before contact, she closed her eyes and so did he.
Her lips were warm beneath his; her hands roamed over his shoulders and pressed him closer. The tip of his tongue touched her lips as a slight murmur of satisfaction opened hers.
Grissom settled against her, one leg resting between hers, his erection hard against her stomach. She pressed her hands to his back to urge him closer. Breaking the kiss, he shifted downward, lowering his mouth to the hollow of her neck. Sara shivered as he made a trail of kisses along the delicate ridge of her collarbone and back again. Gently, he slowly kissed a trail down the center of her chest, breathing in the sweetness of her skin. He felt her breast against the side of his face, felt her nipple stiffen as his rough cheek grazed it. Arousal flared and, as he felt her hands in his hair, he heard a low groan, and realized it had come from him.
Almost overwhelmed with sensation created by her husband, Sara closed her eyes as her fingers threaded into his hair, feeling the heat of his breath against her skin. The tiredness she had felt had evaporated as quickly as nighttime fog burned off by the hot morning sun. The scratchy pressure of his cheek, she knew, was deliberate. He nuzzled her, gently rubbing his prickly jaw on her tender flesh. The friction against her nipple sent sparks of pleasure coursing throughout her body, coming together like streaks of lightning to a white-hot target at the apex of her legs.
When his lips brushed her nipple, she gasped, impatient for more. Her legs lifted; she wiggled, managing to fit him between hers. She felt the heat from his erection. For a timeless, dreamy interlude, they lay together while Grissom caressed one nipple between his fingers, working his tongue and lips around the other. Sara spiraled slowly upward into a breathless arousal; dampness grew between her legs.
When she moved her hips, he answered her unspoken need by smoothing his hand downward to the warm dampness between her legs. With his first gently caress, she moaned, clutching his hair as he explored—sweet, unbearable torment, she thought.
"Gil, Gil…"
He raised sparkling eyes to meet her soft brown ones. For a few moments they looked at each other before her eyes cast down to look at him. As he lifted slightly away from her body, she could see his erection rising from a glistening nest of hair, gleaming silkily in the lamp light. Her hand ran down his chest to the dense tangle between his legs. He sucked in a breath when her hand closed around his penis and drew her fingers up its taut length. At its tip, she found dampness, a small drop of fluid, and smoothed it with her thumb.
"Sara," he growled as she slid her fingers down and up again. He grabbed her hand and kissed her with a hard, searing kiss. His tongue invaded her mouth in a rhythmic sexual way; he grabbed her hips and thrust hard against her belly.
Sara literally pulled the sheet off the bed as she hoarsely said, "Now, Gil, now!"
Managing to chuckle, he lowered himself between her legs. She was ready, throbbing with need. He nudged her wet opening.
"Now!"
He paused again, the tip of his erection inched into her body. "I love you, Sara."
Softly, she giggled. "Oh, I love you, Gil." She laughed again as he pressed into her body, a wonderfully delicious intrusion of pleasure. "I love you," she said again as he gently thrust deeper. "I love you."
She threw her head back, her eyes closed in ecstasy, smiling, as he pushed slowly, again and again, easing into her as she stretched around his unyielding thickness.
Seeing his wife as her breaths became frantic little pants, delirious with pleasure as her climax approached, he withdrew, thrust deeply as they groaned in unison—incredible magic, intimate memories flooded from their past.
And then Sara cried out in a feminine cry of fulfillment—her body seemed to convulse, rocking beneath him. From deep inside her, a succession of spasms gripped him like a slippery hand stroking, pulling, squeezing. His rhythmic movements pumped him from within, undid him as his body arched, plunged deeply inside her. Pleasure gathered and erupted with astonishing force.
For a few minutes, he could not think, see or hear. His blood seemed to cease to flow, his lungs ceased to breathe. He came with luxurious intensity, as if his body was filling Sara with love. He opened his eyes to find his head buried against Sara's neck.
When she noticed his eyes were open, she grinned and, as he shifted, she stretched like a cat and pressed her hands on his butt. "I love you—love feeling you inside me." She wrapped her legs around his back. For a while, they remained entwined, leisurely kissing, warming with each other's breaths, caressing places of shared intimacy.
Slipping an arm around her, Grissom lifted and rocked back bringing her with him—still intimately connected—as he sat up, shifting his legs so his thighs pressed against her hips. Sara laughed saying, "We've not done this in—in forever!"
Gripping her hips, he pushed into her. "I want to feel you come again," he whispered. His erection had waned but he was still inside her, and the friction of his thrusts against her slippery-wet sex was incredibly stimulating. Closing her eyes, she held his shoulders and arched her back, matching his vigorous strokes.
His lips touched her chest; he rasped, "You are beautiful!"
They continued with increasing urgency as he became fully erect again. Throwing back his head, he gripped her hips. Sara watched from above him as his expression changed to one of excruciating pleasure.
"Oh…oh…Sara" he shuddered with a growl.
Sara felt his explosion and then her own climax was on her as she exploded into a senseless orgasm. A few seconds later, he eased her down to the bed, breathless and sweaty, his arms gathering her to him as he placed kisses over her face.
As minutes passed, wrapped in a sated peace, they fell into an identical rhythm of breathing, slow and easy, his head on her shoulder, her leg wrapped over his. Her hand made a circular caress on his relaxed back. He sighed, and carefully, turned them over so Sara's head rested on his shoulder, unconsciously giving her the option of staying close or moving away. She remained languid and undemanding; her palm resumed its dreamy caress on his chest until their world silenced in sleep.
A few weeks later, Sara and Grissom, each holding a wiggly child, stood in a pergola on the university campus with fifteen others. Baskets of petunias and impatiens hung from the eaves. There was a soft radiance to the morning; a slight breeze still cooled the air.
Brianna and Adam stood before a notary—a history professor in real life—who performed a short and simple marriage ceremony that took less than five minutes. A friend passed small bottles of bubbles to everyone so the newlyweds could be 'showered' with congratulations as they left the steps of the pergola—heading directly to the airport for a flight to Rome and two weeks of a quickly planned honeymoon.
Anna and Michael shrieked with excitement and chased iridescent and shimmering bubbles drifting in the air until all had floated away or popped on blades of grass.
Sara and Grissom slowly walked across campus, watching two toddlers explore wet grass where a bubble had been a few minutes before; suddenly, a small bug brought delighted squeals.
"Did we really create these two?" Grissom asked as interest in the bug dissolved to a good-natured tussle between the two children.
Sara laughed, "All evidence points that way."
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