Chapter Twenty Five:
An Innocent Forgotten
He went to the lab to lick his wounds, not sure what they would think of him coming in late after he had called in sick but he didn't care.
Catherine hovered until she was given a case and had to go out into the field.
He stepped into the room, intending to help Nick.
Nick eyed him. "We heard you were sick."
"How can I help?" he asked.
"I haven't checked for prints on that side of the vehicle," stated Nick.
Grissom slipped on his gloves.
"How's Sara? We heard she's filling in for a professor at UNLV," he said.
"She's been busy."
"She better get ready because her life is about to get really busy with a toddler and a newborn. How did the furniture look with the sunshine yellow paint?" he asked.
"Furniture?"
"The baby's room. I figured you guys had ordered something…since the room was empty," explained Nick. "Sara did a great job decorating Caleb's room. You know I never saw her as a mother…but she's great, a natural."
"Yes, she is," he admitted.
Nick leaned over the top of the hood. "Listen, you shouldn't let the rumblings here in the lab bother you. None of us on the team…think any less of you…or Sara. You make sure she understands that."
Nick's head was back under the hood before Grissom could respond.
He had caught a few words here and there over Sara and Caleb's arrival into Vegas.
The receptionists as well as some of the technicians whispered their gossip.
He'd been able to read a few lips.
He was glad Sara was not here to endure it.
He worried about Sara.
He knew the constant bickering was not good for her or the unborn child.
He had not meant to strike out the way he did.
He had already condemned Sara without giving her a chance to explain.
I never questioned Lizzie…
I never yelled or frightened her…
I never…treated Lizzie the way I treat Sara…
Nick looked concerned when Grissom left as quickly as he had appeared.
His hands shook as he dialed the number from his rolodex.
The others watched as he fled from the lab, not sure where he was going.
He was nervous as he waited to be seen.
It was rare for a counselor to get a call at this hour and she rushed into her office, stopping midway when she saw him sitting in the chair.
"Gil Grissom?" she asked.
"Yes."
"Come in…we'll get started," she said. "You understand anything you say is confidential…just between us."
He nodded. "You were Sara…Sidle's counselor?"
"Yes, I was. Is that a problem?" she asked.
"No…it might help," he admitted.
"Ms. Sidle is no longer in counseling…but you know that. I sent the reports to you. I understand she is no longer with the department," stated Melissa Evans.
"She's not."
"Mr. Grissom, I was under the impression we were here for you…I can't divulge…."
"We are…here for me. It's just that Sara and I…live together. We have a son."
The counselor opened the door, stepping into the office.
Grissom took a seat across the desk.
He felt nervous and very much agitated at the process of talking with a stranger about his private life.
Was this how Sara felt?
"I have to say I was surprised when I read the papers…of your wife's death," she said.
He cursed inwardly.
"I didn't know you were married," she began.
"Few knew," he said.
"Let's talk about her….what was her name?"
"Elizabeth," he gritted.
He was late getting home, scowling when they had already left for the day.
He walked the halls, drifting from room to room.
He had talked for over three hours, not letting up as he unloaded on the counselor.
It had been a simple question.
"What did you think of your wife, Lizzie?"
His language was vulgar as he expressed his emotions.
It had gotten him another counseling session before shift and one every night that week.
He wanted to talk about Sara but the counselor returned to his feelings toward his dead wife.
"I need to talk about Sara," he cried.
"Why?"
"Because…I think I hurt her," he sniffled. "I know I hurt her…and she didn't deserve it."
"Did you physically hurt her?" inquired the counselor as she leaned forward.
"It would have been better than….what I did," he grieved. "Scars…of the heart…never go away."
Hesitantly, he ventured into the room that would belong to the baby.
The rocker from the townhouse sat in the room.
There was no other furniture.
In three months there would be a baby girl occupying this room.
He opened the closet and found it empty.
She had not prepared anything.
He stepped into Caleb's room and saw colorful butterflies and bugs displayed across the freshly painted walls.
There was a new crib along with matching book case and stuffed animals of all shapes and sizes.
He had picked these out, shopping one day before they moved into the new house.
Why didn't I think to purchase anything for the baby…for her?
He opened the closet and it was filled with new clothes.
He stepped back into the baby's room, slumping down into the old rocker that belonged to his mother.
His head hurt as he made his way to his room, crashing onto the bed.
He rolled over and found a stuffed bear.
Caleb…
As soon as Lizzie had told him about the pregnancy, he had gone out and purchased a teddy bear for their unborn child.
He had placed the bear inside the casket along with a blanket with a note he'd written to her.
He wiped his eyes.
He had wanted that baby so much.
He had prayed feverishly for her safe birth but she was taken from him.
Even now, knowing that the odds were highly unlikely that he fathered the child, he still loved her.
By heart standards, she was his child.
He clutched the bear tightly, no longer holding back the tears.
That evening she picked up Caleb before coming into the house.
She was late, looking rather wiped out.
Her eyes refused to look in his direction, hurrying about in the kitchen.
She placed Caleb in his high chair giving him some Cheerios as she rushed around trying to cook dinner.
"I got held up at the University…some students needed help….then Dr. Williams wanted….it wasn't on purpose," she got out.
"Sara…"
His phone rang and he cursed.
He turned his back for a second and she fled the room leaving him with Caleb.
Before the conversation was over, she had returned, looking rather pale.
He tried to motion for her to stop with dinner but she took out pots and pans.
Dinner was cooking within minutes.
"I could help," he offered.
She declined, politely.
He tried to make small talk but it was obvious she was struggling to just be in the same room with him.
Dinner was served as they focused on Caleb, not wanting him to pick up on the tension between them.
He insisted on helping with the dishes.
While they always had a kind of work chemistry between them, their actions in the kitchen were awkward and unsettling.
They got into each other's way.
He tried to let her take the lead but she insisted on doing all of it by herself and so he finally stepped aside, playing with Caleb while she finished.
His eyes darted in her direction every now and then.
She looked ill and it made him worry that his explosive behavior was finally taking a toll on her health.
She took Caleb, intending to give him a bath but he stopped her.
"I can do that," he urged.
She didn't protest, dragging herself up the stairs to put away a load of clothes.
She set out Caleb's pajamas and brought them to the bathroom.
Grissom sat on the edge of the tub, splashing water at Caleb which made him squeal with delight.
She swallowed at the sight.
Normally, she liked to see them in play but his hurtful words had scarred her heart and she wondered how long it would be before his accusations would start up again.
Why doesn't he just do the test himself?
Maybe he doesn't want to know the truth…
Maybe he feels…trapped by the situation…
No, Sara. He loves Caleb….
He's just wounded….like me….
He glanced at her as she stood in the doorway.
"I can put him to bed," he offered. "Get some rest."
She lingered, not sure whether to take him up on his offer.
Finally exhaustion won out.
She leaned down and kissed Caleb good night.
She struggled to get back on her feet.
His hand went out to steady her but he was fearful to touch her, knowing she cringed from his touch previously.
After bath time, he read Caleb a story.
He lingered by the child's bed, ensuring he was asleep.
He turned on the baby monitor but still left the door cracked.
He ventured back into the empty bedroom.
Nick's words were reminders to him of his disregard for the baby.
He wondered how Sara felt about it but then of course he had often referred to the baby as "hers" implying there would be no sharing in responsibility.
Sara had shared very little.
She kept the pain of the abuse at the hands of Vincent as well as the excruciating rape to herself.
He felt awful for the way he had acted.
He had hoped they would have been able to talk after Caleb went to sleep but he couldn't push her, seeing firsthand she needed rest.
He'd not seen her so washed out.
There was little or no color in her complexion.
He wanted to push for her to see a doctor, worrying about her as well as the baby.
He knew Sara loved the baby as much as she loved Caleb and it would hurt her deeply if anything happened.
In truth, he cared for the unborn as much as Sara and it would be a further blow to his heart if anything happened.
It certainly would be his fault, he reasoned.
A slight noise was heard in one of the rooms and he quickly got up to investigate.
Her door was cracked so that she could listen for Caleb.
He cautiously made his way into the room.
She had fallen asleep with her laptop on the bed.
Her protruding stomach was pressing against the external mouse, making a soft beeping noise.
She stirred and he gently retrieved the mouse, setting it on the dresser.
Her laptop lay open on the bed with her email displayed.
He started to close it but her diary popped up, still open.
Don't look…
He started to return it to its place but his eyes were already scanning the recent entry.
He had no idea what possessed him to read the journal, perhaps he needed to know her true feelings as he pulled up the entries beginning with those last few months in Vegas.
Note from author:
I bet you're like Grissom. You're curious about what Sara has thought of all of this. Let's find out in the next chapter.
Take care!