Grissom emerged from the back room, passing Sandy on her way back in, to find that Warrick had just returned bearing two grocery bags. He placed them on the desk in the corner and began to unload them. "You found a 24 hour grocery store?" Grissom asked dubiously.
"Nope. These are courtesy of Mrs. Sheriff Green. I went with Brass to meet up with him - ask for a suggestion where I could try to get stuff this late. When I explained what I was doing he drove me home and introduced me to the missus. This," he said, unloading a lidded plastic bowl, "and this," unloading a large plastic storage bag, "are samples of Doris Green's famous chicken soup and sourdough bread." He pulled the lid off the plastic bowl and aromatic steam rose up bringing with it the strong scents of sage and onion. Grissom's stomach growled loudly enough for Warrick to hear and made him laugh. "I'll take that as a yes to the soup," he said, continuing to pull utensils and napkins from the bag, along with a thermos of what Grissom hoped was coffee, OJ, a bag of what appeared to be homemade chocolate chip cookies, and a container of spring strawberries. "There's another bowl of soup and some bread for Nick when he's ready to eat. My boy up and about yet?"
He paused in his activities when Grissom didn't answer right away. "Hey, Gris. What's up? What'd the doc say?"
Grissom took off his glasses and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. Warrick had known his boss long enough to recognize that as Grissom's way of not having to see someone's face when he gave them bad news and he braced for the answer he dreaded to hear.
"He said he thinks Nick has a tear in his liver. He wants to go in to repair it. Doesn't think it can wait much longer."
"Here? In Mayberry? Is he gonna use leeches?" Warrick asked angrily.
"We may be in Mayberry, son, but I think we can do better than leeches," said a deep voice behind him.
Warrick turned around to see a tall distinguished looking black man with close-cropped salt and pepper hair standing in the doorway. In front of him was a shorter, more compactly built woman with her own short iron-grey hair. She had a kindly face and it made Warrick think of his Grams from years back.
"Tom and Jerry, I presume?" said Grissom with a small smile. Warrick flashed him a look like he'd lost his mind.
"I'm Tom Aaron, and this is my wife, Jeraldine… of course it had to be Jerry didn't it, dear? I warned her, when I knew on our second date that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with her. We tried "Deenie" for a while. It never took," he said with an amiable smile, sticking out his hand for the two men.
Introductions exchanged, Grissom went the next step to explain to Warrick who the two were, and more importantly why they had come.
Warrick fumbled out a quick apology, glad to hear of the two's professional background and expertise.
"We understand, son," Jerry said warmly, patting him reassuringly on the arm. "You're just worried about your friend. So, where are Gene and Sandy? In with Mr. Stokes?"
Grissom advised that Sandy was in with Nick, but he wasn't sure where her husband had gone. Jerry excused herself to go back to join Sandy and Tom went off in search of Gene, leaving Grissom and Warrick alone again.
"C'mon, Gris. Eat up. It's gonna get cold. We'll reheat Nick's when he's ready for it, right?"
Grissom nodded and headed over to his bench, Warrick bringing over the soup and bread. Handing Grissom a spoon and a napkin with a mock waiter's flourish, Grissom was struck with the memory of Nick doing the same thing last night. Last night? It was only last night.
He ate the first spoonful of soup and immediately thought that Sheriff Green was a lucky man.Tearing off a chunk of sourdough and plunging it into the soup before stuffing it into his mouth, he amended that thought to Sheriff Green being the luckiest man on the planet. He had polished off the soup and the bread before realizing, too late, that he had never offered Warrick any. He looked up regretfully, but before he could apologize Warrick laughed. "Don't worry about it, Man. You looked like you could use some real food. 'Put the spring back in your step,' as Grams used to say."
Belly now full of the warm hearty soup, Grissom found his eyes growing heavier, his body longing to stretch out somewhere. "There is no spring left in this step of mine, Rick. My spring is sprung," he chuckled to himself. Warrick recognized it as the exhaustion talking.
Sandy emerged from the back. "We're getting started soon, guys. I've been talking to Nick, and he's in good spirits. I'm sure this will work out fine. Mr. Grissom, there're some cots back there if you want to lie down for a while. You must be wiped out, and we'll probably be in there for at least a few hours. Get some rest. I promise you we'll wake you if you're needed."
"Yeah. G'on, Gris. I'm not going anywhere. Sara's buried her head in a computer somewhere. Grab a few Z's while you can."
Grissom couldn't fight the logic inherent in the argument, and let Sandy lead him to another back room where a few cots and screens had been set up. He sank down onto the clean white sheets, laid his head back on the pillow, and allowed Sandy to throw another one of her hand knit blankets over his legs. She shut out the lights and closed the door and he drifted off to sleep.