3

"Nick let's go! You're going to be late!" He calls, for what seems like the twelfth time that morning. Checking his watch, he shakes his head swallowing the last of his coffee.

They're both late.

The sky is grey outside and with the amount of back and forth between the hospital and his practice he has to do today, he's not willing to gamble on getting caught in the rain. Nick had installed a weather app on his phone but his gut is still his gut; the paper never fails.

Hoping that today is the day the paper boy finally manages to deliver on time, he's surprisingly greeted with Grace sitting on his steps.

"Grace?"

She hands him the paper. "I'm just waiting for Nick."

He takes the paper from her, opening the door more fully. "Do you want to come in?"

"I'm fine."

Her back is to him but he doesn't need to see her face to pick up on the tone in her voice. Cassie had been on the receiving end of her anger last night, and it looks like he's getting a cool detachment this morning. Taking a deep breath, he closes the door behind him sitting beside her. "I never got to thank you for helping Nick with the waffles the other morning. They were exactly what I needed after loosing a patient."

She tucks her hair behind her ear, nodding. "You're welcome…I'm glad they helped."

He looks at the paper in his hands, choosing his words carefully. "Grace-"

"-Sam, you don't have to do this," she cuts him off.

"Yeah, I do," he disagrees. "Because you're not just "some kid" to me; your opinion matters to me and the relationship that we have…it means a lot to me."

"…it means a lot to me too," Grace admits.

There on the back page, the weather is calling for sunshine but not before breaking through the clouds.

He can distinctly remember the feeling when she told him she had passed her drivers test. When she had shown up unconscious in the ER. The pride and fear that filled him in those moments had been unexpected, but as he sits next to her now, not all that surprising; he doubts there isn't much he wouldn't do for her if she asked.

"Your Mom….she makes my emptiness-"

"-a little less empty," she finishes. "What happens when you two don't work out? You move back to New York? What about Nick? What about all the work he's done to turn himself around? You're just going to uproot him again?"

She's looking him directly in the eyes now, and he holds her gaze. "I've thought of that, yeah. There's a lot of things to loose, but there's so much more to gain-"

"-you're not my father, Sam-"

"-I'm not trying to be." Her eyes grow and he immediately regrets saying it. "That came out-"

"-tell Nick I'll meet him at school."

She's up off the step heading down the driveway. He doesn't bother calling after her, already knowing he's blown it. Behind him, the door opens and Nick is standing there finally ready to go.

"What are you doing out here?" He questions.

He sighs, pointing to Grace who's halfway down the block. "Putting my foot in my mouth."

Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Nick closes the door behind him bounding down the steps. "You shouldn't have said anything, Dad…Grace is too into her head right now."

To say he's surprised at his son's astute reading of his friend would be an understatement.

"I'll see if I can smooth things over…I'll see you later."

He's already sprinting after her, and he sits there, just as the clouds break and the rain begins to sprinkle.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

Finishing wrapping a set of earrings from Peru, Cassie places them into a bag. "You have excellent taste," she comments, easing her customers worries about wether or not their partner is going to like them. Handing the bag over the counter, she gives them a reassuring smile. "I'm sure they'll love them."

"I hope so," the customer comments. "Thank you so much for your help."

"Anytime," she reassures with a smile.

The door chimes and it's enough to agitate the dull ache at her temples she's been fighting all morning. "Oh Cassie!" Martha calls.

Wishing her customer well, she greets the mayor with a smile. "Hello Martha, what can I do for you?"

"I just came from Abigail's and she's informed me that the Merriwick women are going to be featured this year at the Historic Middleton exhibit, and I've come to check to make sure Abigail is…. well…" she lets her sentence trail off.

"I spoke with Abigail and Grace last night and we'd be happy to help in anyway we can."

Martha erupts in excitement. "Oh that's wonderful news! We have to get started right away! The exhibit is less than 3 weeks away!"

She nods, rubbing her temple. "Of course. I'm sure there are some old photos and pieces you can use as part of the exhibit at Grey House."

"Perfect! This is going to be the best exhibit the Middleton Museum has had to date!"

"It will be special," she agrees, moving to arrange some of the new candles they had received in the last shipment.

"Speaking of the word date, is it true that you and Middleton's good doctor are what do they say these days? Boo'd up?"

Cassie chuckles. "Where on earth did you hear that from?"

"One must stay relevant, Cassie! There is a new generation of voters in the next election and I have to be hip to their ways!"

She laughs, shaking her head. "Well, I'm not sure what that means, but if you're asking if Sam and I are dating-"

"-are you?"

"We're taking things slow, seeing where they go."

Martha beams. "That's wonderful news, Cassie. I'm truly happy for you."

"Thank you." Out of the corner of her eye, she notices the tall figure that has stopped outside of her shop, peering into the front window. She catches Jackson Weld's gaze, and he gives her a quick nod. Martha is talking about the exhibit but she can't register much of what she's saying. She's rooted to her spot as the noise of her shop and Martha's voice fade in and out. A small smile pulls at Weld's lips and it isn't until he looks away, heading down the street does everything come slamming back to her. She falters a minute, reaching for the nearest display for support.

"Cassie! Are you alright?" Martha worries, gripping her arm to help steady her.

"I don't know," she answers. Taking a few deep breaths to steady herself, she attempts to reassure Martha. "I've had this dull migraine all morning…I think I just need something to eat."

"Is everything ok?" Tara questions coming to join them. "Cassie, you look flushed."

Martha is guiding her to the back, gesturing for her to sit. Leaning on the table, she rubs her forehead. "I think I'm just ready for lunch."

"I can watch the store if you want to go," Tara offers.

"There you have it; let's get you to the Bistro and some food into you!"

She has to smile at the way Martha has slipped into her mothering instincts. She doesn't fuss when she links her arm with her own guiding her out of Bell, Book and Candle.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"So...are we not going to talk about what happened this morning?"

Not looking up from her math book, Grace feigns innocence. "I'm not sure what you're talking about?"

Nick slides the book away, closing it. "The disaster of a conversation my Dad tried to have with you?"

For as long as she's known him, Nick has never been a talker and she's surprised that he's said anything at all. She chews her pen, shaking her head. "It's fine."

He gives her a skeptical look. "Judging by the look on my Dad's face, I doubt he thinks the same thing."

She sighs, sitting back in her chair. "You're ok with this? With them?"

Nick shrugs. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"You've just gotten to a place with your Dad where you actually feel like you two are connecting. Aren't you worried that this will just ruin everything you've got going with your Dad?"

Nick leans against the table, shrugging again. "Not really…I mean, it's your Mom," he reasons. "It's not like he's dating my mom."

She doesn't find his poor taste in jokes funny, and she pulls her textbook back, opening it back up.

"Is that what you're afraid of?" Nick questions. "That you'll lose your mom?"

"No," she disagrees immediately.

He gives her another look.

"Maybe a little," she confesses. "It's always just been the two of us, and don't get me wrong, I really like your dad but…" she lets her sentence trail off, unsure of how to finish it. Sure, she had been hurt that she was practically the last to know about her mothers growing feelings for Sam, but it wasn't the root to her upset.

She liked Sam. He taught her how to drive and she had interned at his office. There wasn't a doubt in her mind that his feelings were genuine towards her Mom, and she could tell that those feelings were mutual.

"what if things don't work out, Nick?" She questions softly.

There had been Ryan, who she was certain her mother was going to date, and just when she had begun to warm up to the idea, he was gone. John, she'll admit, came completely out of nowhere for her and she could see that her mother had been caught up in the adventure and the possibilities that he had to offer.

It's probably why she hadn't seen what was at work between her Mom and Sam.

And as quickly as John had appeared in Middleton, he was gone too.

Nothing every seemed to last.

Except Sam.

"I guess I never really thought of that," Nick admits. "….my Dad really likes it here….and I kinda like it here too."

"Would you guys move back to New York?"

Nick leans back in his chair. "Maybe…look, I dunno what's gonna happen between your Mom and my Dad. What I do know is that life is about living, taking risks….my Dad is really into your Mom, and if I'm being honest…I like having her around too."

She looks up from her book to meet his gaze.

"You're not the only one that's missing someone, Grace."

She softens, feeling the longing he has for his Mom from across the table. She had been so focused on what she could lose, that she lost sight of all the things she could gain. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she nods. "I like having your Dad around too."

Nick nods, opening his own textbook. "….you never know; we might not lose anything."

Thinking that far ahead is unrealistic, but as she flips through the pages of her textbook, a calmness settles over her that has been missing for a few days.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

"Cassie, are you alright?" Stephanie worries.

The Bistro is busy, much like every noon hour as she slips onto a stool at the counter.

"She's in need of some lunch," Martha answers for her. "She's not quite herself."

Stephanie's expression changes to reflect her concern as she quickly bustles about the tiny Bistro. "You're in luck; I just made a fresh pot of Chicken Noodle soup."

She smiles gratefully as she places a bowl in front of her.

"Do you want me to call Sam?" Stephanie offers.

She shakes her head, testing a spoonful of soup. "He's got a busy day at the hospital-"

"-I think that's a wonderful idea, Stephanie," Martha cuts her off. "It wouldn't hurt to have the good doctor's opinion."

Stephanie already has her phone out before she can protest. "I'm calling him now!"

As the soup hits her stomach, she can already feel the warmth fill her, chasing away the uneasiness feelings that seemed to permeate inside of her only moments ago.

"Hi Sam, I've got Cassie here at the Bistro and she's not feeling well."

She shakes her head again. "I'm fine," she says softly.

Stephanie gives her a look, ignoring her. "She looks a little pail….Uh huh." She offers her the phone. "He wants to talk to you."

Taking the phone, she places it to her ear. "Hello Sam."

"Hi, tell me what's wrong."

The tell tale signs of the hospital are blaring in the background and she can tell that he's on the move. "Sam, you're busy-"

"-I have the time. Always," he reassures.

A small smile tugs at her lips as she lets his words settle a minute. Over the phone, she can hear him being paged before everything is considerably quieter.

"What's wrong?" He questions again.

"I've had a slight migraine all morning," she begins to explain.

"And?"

She exhales, rubbing her forehead. As much as she's learned his tells and mannerisms, he's gotten to know hers, and it comforts her.

She doesn't need to hide anything from him.

"I've felt a little lightheaded, unsteady," she admits softly. She can practically hear him thinking over the phone. "I'm fine-"

"-Stephanie wouldn't have called me if you were fine," he reasons. "Please don't downplay this. Not with me."

His concern is palpable.

"I've got a few minutes before I'm due at my practice…I'll swing by the Bistro on my way."

"You don't have to do that."

"I'm going to. I'll see you shortly."

She says goodbye, hanging up.

"Well?" Martha prompts.

She hands the phone back to Stephanie who slips it back into her pocket. "He's going to be here shortly."

"Perfect!" Martha exclaims. "I'll leave you in the capable hands of Dr. Radford. I hope you're feeling more like yourself soon, Cassie."

Giving Martha a smile, she nods. "Thank you for making sure I got here safely."

"Anytime," Martha smiles back.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

She hadn't seen him as he slipped into the Bistro behind her. While the Mayor had taken her towards the counter, Jackson Weld found an empty table off to the side, well enough out of her immediate line of sight.

He sat and watched her.

His appearance outside of her shop had been enough to cause discomfort, but now in each others presence, the effect was undeniable: Cassie Nightengale was vulnerable. He sat and watched as her discomfort grew, and a great deal of satisfaction filled him.

His great-grandfather might not have been able to do anything back then, but he certainly wasn't going to allow the Merriwick women, especially Cassie Nightengale who bore such a familial resemblance to her great grandmother, continue to live as if they hadn't ruined his family's name.

He will avenge his great-grandfather.

Whatever it takes.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The door to the Bistro closes heavily behind him and she turns from the counter, her gaze connecting with his. He can immediately tell that she's not herself in the crease between her brows, the pain held within her eyes.

"Hi," he greets softly.

"Hi," she greets back, rubbing her temples.

The noise and bustle of the Bistro is the last thing she needs right now, and he rubs her back. "Not so slight anymore?"

She manages to smile, shaking her head. "Not so slight," she agrees.

"Let me give you a quick exam." She begins to protest and he levels his gaze with hers. "Humour me? Please?"

From the corner of the Bistro, there's a loud crash and she winces, closing her eyes. Stephanie comes from the kitchen moving to help the man clean up the entire plate he's knocked onto the floor. He doesn't look familiar, and as he bends to help Stephanie, their eyes connect for a brief minute.

Cassie leans into him, her head dropping to his chest.

"You need some place quiet," he explains. "Let me take you to the office…I'll do a quick exam and then I'll take you home."

"Ok," she agrees softly.

Gathering her things, he wraps an arm around her waist as she leans into him.

. . . . . . . . . . . .

He's incredibly patient with her as he gives her the routine checks: blood pressure, temperature, pulse, eyes and ears. His hands are sure and steady and the competent way in which he works reassures her and the little bit of worry she feels. Away from the noise and bustle of the Bistro, she feels considerably better, though the ache behind her temples is persistent.

"I want to have a listen to your lungs."

She nods as he plugs his stethoscope into his ears. His hand slips under the back of her shirt and he places the diaphragm on her back, his eyes connecting with hers.

"Deep breathes," he instructs gently.

She inhales, watching the expression on his face remain unwaveringly calm, his gaze holding hers. He moves the diaphragm around her back a few times, and although she should be concentrating on her breathes, her focus is on the warmth of his hand and how she wants it against her skin. Wants him to splay his hand on the middle of her back just to feel his touch, his warmth.

Her shoulder is a breath away from his chest, and his close proximity stirs something inside of her. Reaching for his free hand she interlaces her fingers with his, holding it in her lap.

His thumb sweeps gently over the back of her hand.

"And exhale," he instructs softly.

She didn't realize that she was holding her breath, and she exhales, watching as his gaze drops to her lips for a split second before gathers himself.

He tugs the ear-tips from his ears, removing the diaphragm from under her shirt.

She shivers slightly at the loss of contact, looking away.

"Well, everything seems fine; your blood pressure is great, lungs are clear," he informs, wrapping the stethoscope around his neck. "You might have picked up a bug."

"Rest and hydration?"

He smiles gently. "I don't think it would be a bad thing, especially if you have picked up something….if you're not feeling like yourself in a few days, I would make an appointment with your doctor for further tests."

"What if I don't have a doctor?" She asks sheepishly.

The surprise crosses his face. "You don't have a doctor?"

She shakes her head.

"Lucky for you, I'm accepting patients."

"Your beside manner is excellent," she smiles.

He smiles back."You're an excellent patient."

"Then I'd say we're a perfect match."

His smile widens. "I think so too."

Tbc

(feedback most welcome!)