Happily Ever After

Chapter 3

Sara Sidle Grissom was a scientist. As a result, she approached problems with a critical eye. That is what she did the day after her husband moved back into their home.

She pulled out her slim, silver, initialed pen and one of Gil's small sketch pads. She needed to literally put pen to paper.

Goals

To Save My Marriage

To Make My Marriage Happier and Stronger

To Provide a Safe Loving Home For My Children

What I Know

I know that my formerly faithful husband has kissed another woman.

I know that this affair went on for at least three months.

I know that my husband has never had another affair.

What I Suspect But Have No Evidence

I suspect that this woman wants to break up my marriage.

I suspect that she has tried to contact him.

I suspect that he spent time with her while away from home.

I suspect that he is going through some sort of mid-life crisis.

Reasons He May Have Done This

Bored with the sexual and emotional aspect of our relationship.

Not bored with our relationship but flattered by another woman's attention.

No longer finds me sexually attractive...differs from bordeom

He's a low down dirty dog.

What can I do?

Maintain maximum level of parenting by spending more time with Hope.

Maintain maximum level of parenting unborn child through healthy eating, pre natal yoga, reading and talking to the baby. Must not let stress level affect baby's emotional and physical development.

Make sure that I am at maximum level of physical attractiveness. This will include but not be limited to weekly manicures and pedicures, natural semi permanent rinse to boost shine and cover gray,

Purchase stylish maternity clothes, purchase book and other media regarding sexual pleasure.

Research counseling to Gil. If he does not want to come, attend counseling myself.

xxxx

She was beautiful if not a little too perfect looking. Colleagues, both single and married brought her coffee in the morning, took her to lunch, walked her to her car even when it was still light outside and generally made it known that they were interested in more than work.

Gil was not surprised that he liked her. After a long conversation over parasites and endangered species, he had decided to that they would be friends. No one could have too many friends and it would be nice to have a work buddy again. She was smart and ballsy like Catherine and Dana and Sara. But unlike when he first befriended Catherine and Dana, there was a tickle of trepidation that started at the base of his neck.

She held his gaze too long. Her touch lingered on his shoulder and back. In staff meetings, she was riveted to his every comment. She laughed at his jokes and stopped just short of making a spectacle of herself. When it was learned that he was a shoe in to take the place of the new department chair, Eva had been particularly effervescent, if not stunned, when he said he could not take on any more responsibility. He had a family.

"Your Sara must be something special."

"She is. Should have married her years ago. My friend Dana tells me everything happens as it should so…"

About that time, it became apparent to the entire Biology Department that Dr. Eva Dubois had set her sights on Dr. Gil Grissom. She circled him like one of her beloved tigers watching its prey. The childless divorcee coordinated her schedule so that she and Grissom visited the campus gym at the same time. She just happened to drop by his favorite café off campus for lunch every few days or so. She wasn't obvious or obtrusive. She presented herself as a new friend and not a potent ional love interest. To another group of people, her behavior might have seemed consistently random. To a group of scientists, her patterns were as orderly as algebraic equations.

Not that any of their co-workers thought Eva had a chance. Gil had been wooed by half the female student body. He didn't seem to notice, or maybe he noticed and just didn't care. Whatever the case, he wasn't that guy. He didn't cheat or run around. He was in love with his wife and daughter.

The men and a few of the woman debated the topic heatedly over to hot coffee. Gil's wife had put a pot in his office so he didn't drink the crap in the breakroom.

"If she so much as winked at me I would go for it. Just like that," said Duane Chapman, a sweaty, marginally handsome microbiologist who had been married to a disagreeable professor of dance for 30 years.

"That's because you don't like your wife, Duane," Marna Gwyn, a gravely voiced Welsh woman who oversaw the department labs.

"True," Duane said. "Very true."

"Not me. If I had a woman like Mrs. Dr. Grissom at home, one that possesses both inner beauty and outer beauty, I would find no temptation," said Jean Pierre Dupont, a soft spoken Haitian biologist who periodically avoided match making attempts by his large family.

"She is a looker and nearly as smart as he is, from what I hear," came Wanda Brown, an Anatomy professor who ran marathons.

Gil Grissom had overheard the half whispered conversation and had shrugged it off. That night he stopped talking about Eva to Sara. He told himself that he didn't want to create a problem. Thing was, the problem already had a head start.

xxx

Gil Grissom painted a lot these days. He painted landscapes and seascapes, portraits of Hope and Sara. Before he got sick, he had not painted in nearly 30 years. It felt good to pick up a brush again. His first portrait of Sara hung in their living room. He painted it when he was sick. It had been her wedding present. He painted her from memory.

Now he stared at blank canvas, brush in hand, wondering if his talent had drained away with his good senses. For the life of him, he could not figure out what he had been thinking.

Greg's voice filled the room. "Hey, big guy. I am no artist, but I think you have to put brush to canvas for it to work. Unless you are going for the Anti-Pollock thing. Less is more."

Grissom gave a short laugh and Greg handed him a brown bag. Gil buried his nose in the bag and inhaled. "Blue Hawaiian. You know the way to guy's heart."

He motioned for Greg to sit on the worn sofa Gil had owned since grad school.

"How's work?"

"Uh, don't get me started. Was it my idea to apply for the shift supervisor job, cause I think I must have been mental."

"What's the problem?" Gil asked as he pulled in an ancient pot.

"Oy. We are paperless, which I really appreciate. But it didn't cut down on MY workload. I think all day shift supervisors do that to nightshift bosses. It's evil really. Sara said you were painting your latest masterpiece."

"Yeah, well, she loves me. She's required to say nice things about me."

"Even when no one else does," Greg shot back. "Oh shit ….I came to get your mind off of things, to show you that I wasn't taking sides."

Gil waved Greg off. "I appreciate that Greg. I know that this has been hard on everyone."

Greg studied the carpet for a bit. "Big guy, you guys aren't getting a divorce are you? I mean, you guys are going to get through this, right? Hell, I haven't gotten married yet. If you guys split up it could be very sticky for my impending nuptials."

Grissom raised and eyebrow. "Did you ask yet?" Greg had been serious about Rebekah Joshy, who was a year ahead of Warrick in med school.

"She is so pissed at me, Gris."

"Why?"

"Forgot her birthday."

"Greg." Gil shook his head as the coffee pot finished his round. He stood and poured himself and Greg mugs.

"I know. I was snowed under. I hadn't showered or shaved or slept in like two days. My mind was on the 12th while the 14th just came and went. She started speaking really fast in Bengali. I don't know what she said but it could not have been good."

"Tip, Greggo. Schedule your gift a year ahead of time. Put everything on automatic pilot."

"How?"

"The internet. Just about everyone has a future delivery option."

"That doesn't give much room for creativity or spontaneity. I mean, what if we had like a really meaningful time and I want to gift appropriately?"

"You just add to the pre-purchased gift. Bekha has specific tastes. So you know she likes silver or red roses or books by a certain author. You aren't being insensitive, just prepared. That way you won't get yelled at in a language you may never learn to speak by a woman who can dissect you and dispose of the body with minimum blood spillage."

"Damn, big guy. I hadn't thought of that. Thanks," Greg said miserably.

"Greg?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Don't let the job consume you. It's not worth it. Learn from my mistakes. ALL of my mistakes."

Greg nodded sadly. Gil Grissom always taught him something.

xxx

"So how are things?" Catherine asked.

Sara gave a weak smile. "Better. Not great."

Catherine put a plate between them. It was heavy with finger sandwiches, fruit and brownies. Sara filled her own bright yellow plate with pimento cheese sandwiches, while Catherine poured ice tea from a heavy mustard colored glass pitcher.

Catherine eyed her and sat across from her friend. "I don't understand how you manage to stay so calm during all this, Sara. I mean, you act like nothing has happened."

Sara took out the sheets of paper she had written her plan on and handed them to Catherine. The blonde woman reached for a tiny pair of glasses that sat hidden in a large decorative board. Catherine kept a pair in every room these days. When she turned 45 and had been forced to finally admit that her sight was shot to hell, she had hidden a pair in her office drawer and her purse.

After reading the lists, Catherine folded them carefully and handed them back to Sara. "I don't understand."

"What's not to understand?" Sara asked taking a sip of tea.

"How you can just forgive him and write all this stuff down and have plans. It's like you are blaming yourself."

Sara took another sip of iced tea. "I know this is not my fault. Well, not completely my fault, maybe. Not my fault at all. I don't know. I know that I have a husband who loves me. I have a child and another on the way and a life and a home. So I have to do everything in my power to save my marriage. Besides, I look into his eyes everyday. I don't need to beat up on him to make him feel bad. He's doing that all on his own. Probably more so because I'm not screaming and yelling or making him sleep on the couch."

Catherine gave her a look of skepticism as she added fruit and brownies to her own yellow colored plate.

Sara chewed, swallowed, and wiped her hands on a cloth napkin. Catherine had become quite the hostess since she married Warrick. She had admitted to Sara that it had always been her secret dream.

"He's not Eddie," Sara said quietly.

Catherine's eyes widened. "I am not saying. I never said..."

Sara held her eyes. "Then why are you so mad at him. He was your friend before you were mine. You know him, Cath. You know his standards, his morals. But he's not perfect, Cath. He's just a man. He's a good man, but only a man."

Catherine stared and gave three blinks. "It's just that, with the exception of not marrying you like a decade ago, he's always done the right thing. I just thought he would always do the right thing."

Sara gave a soft sigh. "He's not Sam, either. You have been hurt by some very important men in your life. So have I. But Gil isn't them. I think…." Sara struggled for words that would not hurt Catherine.

"Spit it out."

"I think you are so quick to write him off because he's like a brother to you."

Catherine lifted her chin. "I don't…"

"It's like this. Subconsciously, you're thinking there must be something wrong with him if he's related to me. Maybe somewhere in the back of your mind you have been waiting for him to mess up."

Catherine dropped her gaze to her lap.

"I think that most of this is about Warrick," Sara continued. "You are scared that Warrick is the last domino. First Eddie, then your father, and now Gil. You think Warrick must be the last domino."

Catherine raised her chin again and gave an angry little snort. "Isn't he?"

Sara shook her head and touched the paper that was now folded neatly by her right hand. "Would you do any less if he was?"

TBC