A/N: Thank you for reading! Enjoy!

One More Grissom

Chapter 11

Catherine Willows was attempting to speed across the city in her in-your-face red sports car. She'd purchased it four years ago knowing it was a ridiculous purchase with seats for two and a trunk barely large enough to hold her purse and it was the smallest and the fastest vehicle she'd ever owned. She loved it.

She was moving along, making good time until she got to a particularly annoying roadwork project that kept her waiting for ten minutes. The noise was loud, the dust was blowing, and the sun was warm; she thought about putting the top up but decided it was more fun to drive a sports car with the top down on any day.

At one time, she could have found any street in Las Vegas but all the new developments had demolished any resemblance to previous neighborhoods. There were new streets, new strip malls, new grocery stores that obliterated decades of old Vegas. The drive seemed to take forever following GPS along one street until a right turn then a left turn. Each street grew smaller with new houses, smaller yards, and more elaborate fences. She had to pay attention so she would not miss a turn but finally, she pulled to the curb, and opened the door.

Looking around, she realized the houses around her were not new; one of those thirty or forty year old developments that had been ten miles from Vegas when built. Now, the city had surrounded the once-remote neighborhood. The houses, long ranch-styles, were architecturally undistinguished but were built on a human scale. Unlike the tract mansions and starter castles in new neighborhoods, these were built with wide driveways, sidewalks designed for bikes and strollers, front lawns large enough for trees and flowerbeds, and backyards sized for small gatherings.

She stepped out of the car and reached back to retrieve several gift bags and packages, threading gift bag handles over her arms and balancing two boxes in her hands. She was late—several cars were in the driveway, a few lined the street in front of the house.

A narrow path of paving stones along the driveway led to the backyard; she followed the noise. From the back of the house, she could hear music playing and as she neared the gate, she heard the sounds of children playing and the low voices of adults.

Catherine had been back in Las Vegas for several months—her visit to Ireland had been longer than she had planned and had not ended quite as joyous as she'd wanted. On returning, she'd found an office filled with dozens of problems and aftermaths of unwise solutions and daily complaints of what was going wrong but today, she'd put all of it on hold so she could visit her long-time friends.

The Grissoms had been in Vegas for several months while she was away then returned several times for court dates, but they had not had a chance to really visit. She'd seen them once—she was on her way to a casino board meeting and in a hurry—and had talked to Sara or Grissom several times about the complicated case of Anson Wix.

Today's event was some kind of party—she thought it was a celebration of David Hodges' innocence—at the home of Dave Phillips. She knew Dave had three kids, and Hodges had a new baby boy, plus Will Grissom so she'd filled bags with caps, balls, play-dough, puzzle blocks, color markers, and drawing pads. The two boxes were gifts for baby Hodges.

The gate was propped open giving her a view of the long back yard, a tree house, a gym set, kids running around, and a dozen adults near the house. A small dog was running between three young boys; two kids were swinging. Greg Sanders was playing with the boys—or the dog—suddenly boys and Greg were in a pile with the dog jumping around them. Dave Phillips and David Hodges were standing near a smoking grill. Jim Brass was in conversation with a man she did not know. Her eyes found the group of women; she recognized most of the women—Maxine, Amy Phillips, and Emma Hodges were facing her. Three other women—she recognized Sara's backside—completed the circle of women.

Amy Phillips saw Catherine and called her name. As Catherine took a step, Sara leaned over; Catherine glimpsed Gil Grissom in a chair beside Sara, his arms stretched upward, holding a small bundle. And Catherine's mouth dropped open in confusion. Her eyes went to Emma Hodges who was holding an infant, back to Sara who had taken a small baby from Grissom and turned to look in Catherine's direction and in the mysterious way of knowing certain things, Catherine knew without doubt the baby belonged to Sara. Based on her recent visit with her own granddaughter, she knew the infant was a few weeks old, not more than a month old.

Catherine literally stopped in her tracks. In a flash there had been a change in Sara's face. A Sara she'd never seen, Catherine thought. She'd always been a pretty woman but now, she seemed to radiate an assured, unconscious beauty that—to Catherine—was more sexual than motherly. And Grissom—if Sara had caused astonishment, Gil Grissom's handsomeness took her breath away—even more marked as he stood—his eyes were on Sara all the time.

Sara was coming toward her, cradling the infant in one arm; the other extended for a one-arm hug.

She said, "Catherine! You're here at last—it's time you met this little one!" She held the baby as she embraced Catherine.

Catherine stared at the baby who was much too young to look like anyone yet this baby, dressed in a pale pink floral onesie, had dark hair and lashes, an oval face, and dark blue eyes that were already changing to the warm brown color of the woman who held her.

Looking at Sara, who was studying the baby as intently as Catherine had, she asked, "How? When?"

Sara's mouth formed a wide smile as she said, "Catherine, meet our new daughter—Jemma Kate—and yes, we've named her after you and Jim."

Six weeks previously:

"Can we really do this?" Sara asked; she was gripping her husband's hand so tightly her knuckles were white.

"We can."

In the days that followed, her husband had never hesitated, never expressed any reservations after they had sat in Jim Brass' house and listened to a man named Mel Thompson tell a story of desperation and despair. The man, a cousin to Marta, Jim's housekeeper, appeared older than his stated age, worn by fear and worry yet his soft brown eyes were hopeful.

"I have to make this decision—once it's done, it is done. I've failed in one way with Beth—and as much as I can I want to set things right. I've listened to Marta—she's a good person and the rest of the family believes this is what needs to be done."

His story unfolded as he related a brief history of his granddaughter, Beth, who had suffered a lack of oxygen at her birth resulting in severe mental disability—"She's a five year old"—but her body was that of a thirty year old. As he spoke, he wiped his eyes several times; Marta, at his side, patted his hand each time his fingers swiped his face.

He continued his story, saying, "We got Beth when she was two—my daughter and her husband had split by then and she took off—couldn't handle what had happened. We—we lost contact after a while and ten years later—she died from an overdose. Beth's father left and died in some kind of accident—his parents have been dead for years.

"We had Beth who took every minute of our time. It took weeks for her to do simple things. Years to potty-train her—we took her to every special doctor we could find and never got a different answer. She was healthy, growing, but would never develop mentally. At two years of age, she could sit in her high chair and be fed with a spoon." The elderly man paused, wiped his eyes again; Marta made an encouraging sound. He fumbled in his pocket and brought out a stack of photographs which he handed to Sara.

"Well, you can see—my granddaughter—we made it fine. My wife and I enjoyed caring for her. We had a routine—school and a group program when she aged out of school—and she's always been a sweet girl. About two years ago, my wife died after she—she had pancreatic cancer. We had to make some adjustments," his eyes filled with tears and he nodded toward Marta who picked up the story.

She said, "After Susie died, Beth had a hard time for a while—but she settled down and went back to her group program. It's one of those programs where—where everyone has severe disabilities and everything is geared toward their abilities. She loves going."

Marta paused long enough that her cousin said, "It's my fault all of this happened. I should have stayed up on things."

At this point, Sara glanced at her husband. Neither could imagine where the story was headed.

Mel said, "I—I didn't know about certain things…"

Marta broke in, saying, "Beth had a contraceptive implant—it's pretty standard practice for—for girls with disabilities. And easy—it works for years. But with Mel's wife dying—and Covid—Mel simply forgot—didn't know—about replacement. And now—Beth is pregnant—her baby girl is due in about two weeks."

At the moment of Marta's words, Grissom reached for Sara's hand.

"I've—I've got to make a decision—I've already made the decision," said Mel. "I can't raise another baby—and—and Marta has told me about you—and little Will. She really has enjoyed getting to know all three of you." He glanced at Marta. "She thinks you would consider adoption of Beth's baby."

Sara knew her breathing stopped until Grissom wiggled his fingers against hers.

An obviously broken-hearted father continued. "No one knows how Beth got this way—there are boys—men—in her program who are just like her. They are children in adult bodies. All the employees are female and they have been so upset about this happening."

"Beth doesn't even know she's pregnant," said Marta. "The state protective services got involved but by then—Beth was already five or six months along." She looked at her cousin before saying, "They tried to say it was Mel's fault but he agreed to DNA testing and then they wanted to test the boys in the program. That's how we know Beth is having a healthy girl."

"I wouldn't agree to that—to testing the boys," Mel said. "It would just add heart-break on top of heart-break. They are just little kids in their minds—and curious—none of them know about—about—what it means. They play with dolls and ride tricycles." He shook his head, adding, "It would not solve anything other than to say 'he did this' so I fought it—the father can remain unknown."

As both Mel and Marta paused, Sara managed to say, "You want us to adopt the baby?"

"Yes," Mel gave a weak smile. "A simple adoption—private—I can sign the papers and you have a baby girl. She's due in two weeks."

After a long moment of silence, Sara said, "Can we really do this?"

Grissom's immediate response was, "We can." His fingers threaded between hers and her grip relaxed. Smiling, he added, "We—we can be ready."

Sixteen days later, Sara and Gil Grissom became parents of a newborn girl whose birth mother would have no memory of the event. A new baby doll in a beautiful dress and a box of candy made her happy as her grandfather and several cousins read favorite stories and played Candy Land with her.

The first time Gil Grissom held his daughter, he knew why Mel Thompson had shown them photos of his granddaughter. Even as a newborn, the baby had an amazing likeness to her birth mother. His eyes went to Sara as he realized the similarities in appearances of the two women. This baby would look like the one who would be her mother. He smiled.

"Will has a sister," Sara whispered.

Grissom chuckled, saying, "One more Grissom—does this mean we can't get a dog?"

A/N: One more chapter-an epilogue to the story that moves Sara and Grissom into their new adventure. Thank you for reading. Thank you for your kind words!