Chapter Four

Can't live with them. Can't live without them

Catherine looked at Lindsey's school picture. Butterfield Academy hadn't turned her daughter completely around but she was doing much better. She closed the locker and spied Sara lying on the locker room bench clad in a black sports bra and red running shorts. Her feet her bare.

"When did I get old Cath?" Sara asked.

"Um, like, never." Catherine said. "Don't let the town take you down, girlie. You're young and beautiful. Hell, I'm not so young and I look pretty good for a washed up stripper."

Warrick called from the other side. "You aren't washed up. Just seasoned."

Catherine smiled. Sara groaned. "Your healthy self esteem and Warrick's constant admiration under whelms me. I'm not talking about the mirror. I'm talking about my body. Did you see me around that track? I must have added a minute to my time. The relay is next month. I'm the anchor. I'm so tired lately."

Nick called over the metal boxes. "What have you been eating?"

Catherine rolled her eyes. Coach Nick was driving them all crazy. He had confiscated Catherine's homemade brownies she'd brought for their monthly potluck and he had made Warrick stop drinking the three sodas he drank each shift.

"Don't start Stokes. I cannot deal with your nutritional fascism today." Sara returned.

Catherine hoisted her purse on her shoulder. "Maybe you're knocked up," she said lightly.

"No way," Sara said.

"Way. How do you think we ended up with Lindsey? Condom broke and I am so glad it did."

"Really?" Sara said.

"Yep." The blonde woman left the room as Warrick and Nick slammed doors and scampered behind her before Sara realized what Catherine had said.

Sara eyes grew round and she lamented her desertion.

How did Catherine know about the condom breaking?

Gil was surprised to find Sara snoring lightly in the middle of the bed they shared off shift. He had finally been able to convince her to move in with him. Her lease was up at the end of the month and he had almost talked her into a bigger house.

She was sleeping a lot these days. The relay training was wiping her out.

He sat on the edge softly and slipped off his shoes.

"Honey?" she said sleepily.

"I didn't mean to wake you. Sorry I'm late. I swear that paperwork grows when I'm not there. Like that movie, Gremlins. It multiplies after dark."

Sara laughed and yawned, "Honey did you tell Catherine about the condom breaking?"

Gil began to unbuttons one of his 14 custom made dark shirts, "Why would I tell Catherine something like that?"

"Jim?"

"I don't think so. Since I made him to go the sex store, he wants no knowledge of our sex lives. He says it gave him nightmares. Why were you talking to Cath about broken condoms?"

Sara sat up on her elbows. "Houston we have a problem."

Gil handed Sara her fourth pregnancy test. She had taken one every day for four days. Gil wondered at her complete loss of rationality.

"Um honey…I don't think that this test is going to say anything different than that other three. We have a pink line, we a have digital "you are pregnant" and we have the two dark lines. This test is not going to tell you anything different, although the nursery rhyme sound indicator is a nice touch."

Sara glowered at him as she snatched the test, "Haven't you heard of false negatives? What kind of scientist are you?"

"One who's being rational?" Gil said stupidly.

"And what the hell is that supposed to mean? You think just because I'm a woman that I'm irrational. I'll tell you why I'm irrational. I'm irrational because I just found out that our closest friends heard us having sex, this on top of your little sex shop stunt with Jim and the declaration of your undying love in the middle of your office. Oh no, it wasn't love you declared. You declared that you were scared."

She stomped into the bathroom to pee on yet another stick.

Gil shuddered as she closed the door and said something about unusually mobile sperm.

"I do love you." He called helplessly.

Thirty minutes later

Gil called out to Sara who was now crying softly, "Honey, you have to let me in."

"I don't have to do shit," she said, sniffing loudly.

"Yes you do. You have to eat and go to work and generally leave the house and live your life."

More crying.

"Sara, if you don't open the door I'm going to pick the lock or break it down. Either way is going to require repair, no matter what, and that little bit might be the difference between UCLA and Harvard for our little one. I mean, UCLA is a fine school, but Harvard is where we met so I was thinking it would nice for little Sara or Gil to go there. Then there's this shiny ring that I've been carrying around for at least a week."

Sara called from the bathroom, echoes making her voice sound deeper and more fragile, "I am not going to be your shotgun bride. So you can forget about that Gil Grissom."

He leaned against the closed door and whispered softly, "I said I've been carrying it around for a week."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed. She was crying harder now.

"Sara I'm not going to stand out here and listen you cry. Now open the damn door."

Sara opened the door and circled her arms around his neck.

Epilogue

Seven year old Gilbert Isaiah Grissom Jr. hoisted himself up on a stool and positioned himself across from his father who was pouring Perrier into dry pancake batter.

"Why are you using that Dad?" He asked as he opened his ever present notebook.

"Marvin Wood, the guy with the bandanas, says it makes them fluffy."

The boy opened his ever present green note book and his case of markers. He looked at the array of colors and began to choose the perfect hues for the task before him.

"Where are your brothers?" Gil asked.

Six old twins, Fredrick Colin and Alfred McClan Grissom were often too smart for their own good. Trouble was a way of life for them.

"Playing Star Wars Word Spell."

"Who's winning?" Gil wanted to know. Most of the fraternal twin boys' trouble stemmed from the fact they were inseparable and extremely competitive.

Dares and taunting had led to two broken arms, one black eye and one bruised cornea.

"Um, I think Freddy is winning because Al just missed "weather", as in the kind that brings you rain."

Ike added blue leaves to a tree as he spoke.

"Thank you for the clarification." Gil said to the top of dark curls.

"No problem. I know you like clarification," the boy explained easily.

"Isn't 'weather' a pretty advanced word? Didn't you just learn to spell that word this year?" Gil poured batter onto the hot griddle.

"You know how to boost a guy spirits Dad. I'm well aware that Frick and Frack are smarter than I am," he said capping his marker and nailing his father with Gil's own blue eyes.

"I didn't say that. You know that's not true. You have different aptitudes. That's why we put you in the Artist's School. You do know that right?" Gil was studying his oldest boy.

"I know Dad. Sometimes it would be nice to be more conventional. You know, good at math or spelling."

"You are good at those things. You always score at least a grade ahead."

Gil flipped pancakes and walked over to his sensitive artistic son. "No one is this family is conventional. We don't allow it. Your mother and I love you just the way you are. Okay?"

The boy blushed, showing crooked teeth. Gil kissed his curls and walked back to the stove.

"Speaking of Mom. I thought you went to find her."

"She was on the phone with some doctor."

Ike pondered the color of his drawing's grass color.

Gil frowned, "She was?"

"Yeah, she was talking about eggs and sperm and fertilizing. Actually, she was yelling."

Gil shoveled cakes on to a plate and left the kitchen.

On his way down the hall he stopped to look in on the twins. Freddy and Al were no longer playing the spelling game. They had moved on to Bob the Builder math quiz.

Brown eyes and blue eyes were glued to the screen.

"You guys okay?"

They spoke at the same time, "Yeah Dad."

The number 14 flashed and Bob the Builder appeared and a heated argument started over something to do with a plus symbol. The boys were nose to nose by time Gil picked up each by a collar. It was rare for the two to actually hit one another. The broken bones and other scars had mostly been a result of dares gone too far.

The two boys wiggled and called for Ike and their mother to send in reinforcements as Gil tucked each under a strong arm.

"Mom! Help! Dad's carrying us around like sacks again!" Al shouted.

"Ike! Call Nana! She said Dad wasn't supposed to this anymore!" Freddy called to his oldest brother who the twins regarded as their savior.

Gil grumbled, "Just because you have conned my mother doesn't mean you can con me."

He retraced his steps back to the kitchen.

"I told Uncle Brass about this and he said this is cruel and unusual punishment." Al barked sounding very much like his father as they rounded the corner back through the living room.

"Spell punishment." Gil huffed as he walked through the large living area. He knew how to distract overachievers. It was the only thing that kept his brood in line.

Both boys stopped moving in his powerful grip. They smiled at one another.

Freddy started. "P-U-N-E"

Al stopped his brother. "I think it's an I."

"You do?" The other twin said.

"Yeah? Remember that Charlie Brown….

They were engrossed in the spelling debate by the time Gil had situated them at the kitchen table.

He studied Al's straight light hair and Freddy's dark wavy locks. Neither really looked like he or Sara. Instead they bore a striking resemblance to their paternal and maternal grandmothers with Maria Grissom's dark waves and round face and Laura Sidle's blonde hair and sculpted cheek bones.

"Breakfast in five minutes."

The nodded gleefully. The twins loved to eat and savored every meal.

Gil followed the sound of his wife's voice. He found mother and daughter in the spacious office that he and Sara shared. Four year old Francis Maria Sidle had tuned out her look-a-like mother's hysteria and was donning her Saturday crown jewels and long gloves. On Saturday, she was allowed to dress herself and she spent the whole week planning of the big event as she decided which one of her tiaras went with what jewels. Sara blamed Catherine. She was all the rage at her brother's soccer games.

"Hi Daddy," the girl said dramatically, "Did you see the picture Ike is painting for me? It's my own world; but you can come to visit if you want."

He smiled down at his daughter, "Thank you, Princess. Would you mind joining your brothers in the kitchen?"

She pumped long fingers. "Pancakes." She scurried down the hall calling out to all the Grissom men. Francis believed that her brothers were born only to serve her and mostly, she was right.

Sara's voice rose an octave. "No, Dr. Servat I don't think you understand me. Perhaps I haven't made myself clear, since at this point I am completely freaked out. My husband and I don't have a problem getting pregnant. We have gotten pregnant with a condom, birth control pills and while using both. Now we've managed to get pregnant despite the fact that husband had a clip and snip by the best guy on the West Coast. Despite the fact that he had a follow up visit and they told him that he was producing no sperm."

Gil stopped moving. There was no way Sara was pregnant again. The kids just kept coming. He looked at his wife and she got pregnant. He would be dead before he got them all out for the house. What if he never got them out of the house? What if they lived with him forever? The noise could kill him. Maybe going deaf would'nt be so bad.

Where would they put another baby? Their five bedroom house was claustrophobic as it was. He would have to take extra consulting gigs just to feed this bunch. The twins alone had added another hundred dollars to their grocery bill.

And then there were the lessons. Right now they only paid for private art lessons and piano lessons for Ike and Francis. Soon they would have to figure out what to do with the twins. It was either a magnet school, home schooling or the private school in the area that catered to gifted youngsters. No matter what they decide it required more money and more energy.

What if it was another girl? That would be college and a wedding. What if one his son's was gay? Whose parents paid for the wedding in that case? Times like these he wished he was a conservative. Maybe that's why people were conservative, so they would only have to pay for their daughter's wedding. Maybe Jerry Falwell was on to something.

College. He was the father of four very bright children. They wouldn't stop at the undergraduate level. They would want advanced degrees like their parents. They would want to travel. He and Sara wanted them to travel. They wanted the best for their children.

He needed to take on more work. Work. He would become one of those fathers. The ones that didn't know what his kids' hopes and dreams were, the kind that never made sporting events or school plays.

Sara's voice interrupted his spinning thoughts.

"We're scientists Dr. Servat. We are meticulous scientists. The last time my sweet husband flew by the seat of his pants was when he asked me out seven years ago. This was after a decade of knowing me and he only did it then…"

Sara let out sigh.

"You don't need to know that. My point is that we are not those people. We read the directions and we follow them to the letter. We researched the vasectomy doctor for months."

Sara stopped and listened, still not realizing that he was in the room.

"How old is my husband? He's fifty four."

Sara blew and errant curl from her line of vision. "Gee, I'm so glad that you are blown away by his fertility. He would be happy to hear that and no he can't participate in your study."

"Why not?" Gil said whining, forgetting that he had just learned that his wife was pregnant with his fifth child.

"Dr. Servat, I must not be making myself clear. That's possible because I am over forty and pregnant with my fifth child. My wedding was a shotgun wedding. I have spent more time pregnant and married than I have not pregnant and married. My husband and I did not plan on having more than two children. We are now on the fifth Grissom under the age of eighteen."

Sara quieted again.

"Yes THAT Gil Grissom."

"Yes he's a genius."

"Yes I am that Sara Sidle-Grissom"

"No I don't think I am a genius."

Gil spoke again. "Since when?"

"Yes. All of our children appear to be of above average intelligence."

"No they aren't all science geeks," Sara's voice filled with motherly pride, "Our oldest draws and paints and writes poetry. He's so sweet and gentle. Our twins are more like Gil and I, very analytical, very competitive."

"Our daughter Francis is a lot like our oldest and her grandmothers. Very peaceful, very ethereal, and sweet-tempered. Looks like she might have gotten the music gene from my mother. She can play two songs on the piano."

Sara laughed at something. "I don't know. I don't like that idea of my kids being studied. I will talk to my husband. Dr. Servat, do you have any suggestions? We can't keep having babies. We just can't. We aren't youngsters and we aren't rich. Actually, I think my husband was close to being rich when he got married. That was thousands of dollars ago though."

Sara sat up straight. "Stop having sex?"

Gil's thick fingers took the phone from Sara's hand. "Dr. Servat? Don't call us we'll call you."

He slammed the phone, "That doctor should be reported. How can a fertility specialist say such a thing?"

He looked at his stunned wife, "Breakfast. Gotta feed you two."

Gil held his four day old daughter like the parenting expert that he was. Sara-Catherine peered irritably at her father. She had just eaten and now she wanted to sleep. Her mother was dozing peacefully in the next room and her siblings had been banished only minutes ago. Gil doubted they would stay put but he had to make a show of exercising some discipline.

"Tell me sweetheart. Are there anymore where you come from? You can tell your old Dad. We will keep between us. Blue Eyes to Blue Eyes. Grissom to Grissom."

Her tiny lips yawned and Gil could have sworn she winked at him as shut her eyes.