A/N: New Chapter! Thank you for reading!
Christmas 2015
Chapter 2
Gil Grissom closed his eyes and tilted his face skywards, letting the wind rush against his chin and neck. His hand scraped across the scruffy growth on his face as he thought about shaving. Then he shrugged and chuckled; the woman he loved seemed to like a bit of fuzz.
The coming rain had stirred the ocean, adding a strong smell of salt to the air. Times like this he wondered how he had lived in a landlocked city for so many years, never realizing he missed the coast, the air, the sounds of the ocean, the feel of sand under his feet. Or how much he had learned to love the sensation of being in a boat on the ocean.
He hurried along the footpath, cool and quiet; even the noise of the ocean was dulled between the houses. Nearly every house was trimmed or draped or swathed with sparkling holiday lights. By the time he'd reached the locked gate separating the quiet neighborhood from the more commercial area of the harbor, his brain had wandered in a dozen directions—white lights versus colored lights, snowmen or Santa, no lights or completely covered—about the variety of Christmas decorations he's seen.
He had to wait several minutes for the crosswalk light to change, watching cars pass by in waves; all these people had lives unfolding outside the sphere of his own life. Quickly, once across the street, he made his way through another gate, into the marina, and along the main pier to the slip where his boat was docked.
Once on the boat, he checked the ropes, the fenders and buoys around the boat, opened the engine cover and checked the oil level, touched several hoses and clamps, and flicked several switches to check running lights. He had learned simple maintenance went a long way in preventing problems on the water.
Pulling out a folding chair, he shook it open, deciding, as he noticed the bent frame and frayed fabric, he needed to buy new ones. Birds were engaged in a squawking commotion further along the dock but he ignored their noise and thought about the past three months.
…After returning to San Diego, he'd spent most of the day cleaning his boat and signing paperwork for its release from the port authority officials. He'd purchase simple groceries for the short trip up to Los Angeles; the trip could be done in a long day but he'd found it easier to spend one night near Dana Point and arrive mid-day at Marina Del Ray. He'd gone to sleep quickly; his physical work and the gentle rocking of the boat had pushed him into a deep sleep, waking to find night behind him in one solid dreamless drift.
The sun had been bright above the horizon by the time he'd drank coffee and eaten a couple of slices of toast covered with thick strawberry jam. Finding the dock master, he had paid his docking fee with intentions of leaving with the morning tide.
He had glanced up, into the sun, to see a figure walking toward him; now, he would claim he'd known instantly who it was. The reality was that it had taken a moment for Sara to walk out of the sunlight. She had found him with intentions to stay. Having heard his words, she had decided it was her turn to come to him.
…Smiling at the memory of that day, he opened a cabinet and looked at the organized space inside; Sara's work, he thought. The boat was always orderly now, food in the cabinets, soap by the sink, clean sheets on the bed. He found a bucket and a rag, filled the bucket with water, and headed to the boat's fly bridge to wipe away the splatters of bird droppings on the wind screen.
He had a couple of hours to work; chuckling again as he thought about the secret baking going on, unsure of what had caused this covert mission of cookie making.
For the first time in years, he knew he had found his future. Life had changed; he was no longer the lonely whale searching for a mate. He'd found her—or she'd found him.
Scraping at bird poop, he could not stop the grin forming on his face. In three months, he and Sara had been together every day with one exception. After a month, Sara had made a quick trip to Las Vegas, returning the same day.
They had made plans, gotten married, decided to live near the ocean, sell the house in Vegas, continue the marine work—and then plans changed again.
He stepped back to check his work; he should buy a cover for the new wind screen or put up those twirly things that were supposed to keep birds away. But with the most recent development in their lives, he was probably going to lease his boat—a year or two—to a couple who were studying turtle habitats along the coast.
Glancing at his watch, Grissom realized almost two hours had slipped by and he had ten minutes left of his temporary eviction. Quickly, he closed the cabin door and headed home; never could he have imagined a home becoming more beautiful by a single person twice in a lifetime.
A sudden whirl of wind swirled in from the west, across the harbor, casting rain drops onto Grissom's face. As he reached the street, the wind and rain vanished as quickly as it had arrived, the crosswalk light changed, and, as he looked left and right, there was no traffic.
As he hurried across the street, he laughed out loud. Clouds, heavy with rain, made the holiday lights brighter; perhaps, they should add to the ones on the house. He thought he could smell cookies baking as he crossed the pedestrian bridge near his house. As misty rain hit his face, he sprinted the remaining distance thinking life was so much better when the love of your life was waiting.
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