A/N: We apologize for the delay with this chapter-sometimes, real life takes a lot of time! Thank you for staying with us! Enjoy!
Gil Grissom's Romance
Chapter 26
"A sabbatical" is what Grissom had requested; the sheriff had decided it was a leave of absence—an extended vacation without using accumulated vacation time even though the man had noted that Grissom had over six months of leave on the books. Once approved, the rest had been easy.
The invitation to teach at the small college had been accepted—only a few weeks—but an opportunity to—Grissom wasn't sure what opportunity it presented. He did know he needed to get away from Vegas. From the day-to-day administrative problems, the never-ending, relentless crime, the chance to see if he could teach.
That was it—he was trying to define the future. A future where he and Sara could enjoy the sun, he thought as he turned into the service road that led to the condo garage. The morning sun flashed across the windshield for a few seconds and seemed to be prophetic of his thoughts.
And then he saw Sara. His smile turned to puzzlement as he watched her in the common 'green space' that ran along the paved road. The area had been one of the perks of the development—a park-like nature space for condo owners that included a trail twisting through native grasses, several benches, and, when it rained, a trickle of a man-made stream ran over smooth stones. But he saw none of these as he parked in the garage and went to join Sara.
As he opened the gate, he noticed the dog. A large, brown and white mutt with floppy ears—he'd seen the dog with its owner, an elderly woman who walked with the speed of a snail. Sara was throwing a stick for the dog to retrieve and, on seeing him, waved at him.
A quick glance around the area and he did not see the dog's owner. But the woman could be sitting on a bench and not visible, he thought. Heading toward Sara, he changed his mind about the dog. What he had thought to be a bulky-slow moving animal was a sleek, handsome, tail-wagging boxer dog. He moved with purpose and grace as he followed Sara along the path.
Meeting up, Sara quickly kissed his cheek and turned to introduce the dog, saying, "Gil, this is Hank." She giggled. "A real dog—and immensely smarter than another Hank I knew!" To prove her point, she made a motion with her hand and said, "Hank—this is Gil."
The dog dropped to a sitting position, cocked his head to one side, and lifted his front right paw, extending it toward Grissom.
Smiling, Grissom took the paw and stared into a pair of intelligent brown eyes. He said, "Yes, you are right. Smart guy you've found."
Sara laughed, clicked her tongue, and threw the stick. The dog sprinted to retrieve it.
"Where is his owner? Mrs. Roberts? Is that her name?"
Sara's face changed into a sad frown as she spoke. "Mrs. Roberts fell yesterday and is in the hospital. Her sister—who is older and even more frail—came to check on Hank today. I offered to give him some exercise."
The dog returned with the stick, sitting in front of Grissom. Sara laughed. "He wants you to play too—he's a very good, well-behaved dog."
Grissom tossed the stick and the dog jogged after it. Turning, he realized Sara was—hesitating—biting her lip, as she watched the dog.
"Are you okay?"
She sighed. "Mrs. Roberts isn't coming home for a while. Her sister doesn't know what to do with Hank. I—I thought—since you'll be gone for a month—I might offer to—to—you know, watch Hank until she's better and can work out something." Her last words came in a rush.
The dog returned, sat near Sara's feet and lifted his eyes to her. Her face glowed as a broad smile formed. Playing with the dog had heightened the color in her cheeks; if possible, she was more beautiful than ever. Before tossing the stick, she patted the dog's head and muttered words of praise. She threw the stick with a natural grace that sent it sailing over the area in a long arc. The dog took off in a fast loping run.
Attempting to hide his surprise—they had never talked about a dog, Grissom leaned over and kissed her. He was going to be gone, he thought, and the dog would give her a reason not to live at work. And provide some enjoyment; he couldn't be jealous of a dog.
The kiss surprised her; they were always so cautious when outside of their home. His arm went around her shoulders.
"You know, you may be taking on more than a few weeks."
"Yeah, but I could help out—Mrs. Roberts uses a dog sitter that I can use if work runs long." She waited for Hank to return with the stick. "He's an old lady's dog—how much trouble can he be?"
Forty-eight hours later, Grissom sat at his desk, clearly astonished at the dog's ability to settle into a new—temporary—home. Food and water bowls were in the laundry room, a dog bed was in the corner, and a basket of toys sat under Sara's desk. She had been right; Hank was a very well-behaved animal and he wasn't much trouble.
Quietly, he chuckled as the dog lifted his head and looked up. He said, "Yes, I was thinking about you."
The dog made a soft noise, not a growl but a mournful sigh; his rope-like tail swished once. Grissom got up and headed to the kitchen. The dog followed. Once in the kitchen, the dog headed to the door, making another soft sound when Grissom did not follow.
Pulling a face, Grissom reached for the dog's leash, and hooked it to Hank's collar. "Come on, buddy. We'll be back before your best friend gets out of the shower."
Instead of heading to the dog walk area, Hank turned toward the condo he knew as his home.
"She's not back yet, buddy." Grissom made a grimace, realizing he was talking to a dog.
The dog paid no attention, leading Grissom to the steps and whining as he climbed the steps to the door. Knowing he could not drag the dog away, Grissom sat down on the steps. With his index finger, he rubbed the dog between the eyes.
"She's gone away for a while, Hank," he said, surprised at the emotion in his voice as he realized the animal would not understand the absence of his owner. The dog circled and lay down near the door. Five minutes passed before, unexpectedly, the dog stood, leaving the steps, turning to look at Grissom when the leash stretched between man and dog.
"Now, you're ready to pee," Grissom said with a chuckle as they headed to the dog walk area.
Back inside, Sara had made sandwiches of cheese, tomatoes, and pickles. "I saw you two heading to the dog walk so thought I'd feed you on your return."
Hank settled between them, front paws crossed as he waited for his treat.
Grissom watched Sara as she took a bite of her sandwich. She was a serious eater; her hair fell around her face as she leaned over her plate. He could not stop watching her and not for the first time, he thought of the simplicity of her beauty. Not conventional, not in the way of beauty queens and movie stars, but in the way nature made women, the lines and planes and light in her.
Suddenly, she looked up and caught him watching her, changing her expression to a reasonable imitation of his own.
"Yes?" she said, raising one eyebrow.
"Nothing." Wrapping his hand around hers, he brought it to his lips and kissed her fingers. "I will miss you every day."
"You will be gone—only for a short time," she whispered. "One day, we'll go together." She smiled. "Maybe not to a cold place, but where it's warm and we can be in the sun all day."
Grissom kept her hand in his as he fed the dog a bit of his sandwich. "This life—our life—suits you?" he asked as the dog gently took the food between his front teeth and then inhaled it.
For several hours, they moved through an ordinary day of reading, doing household tasks, and laughing as both added Hank to their conversation. And finally, after she walked the dog, gave him a treat, and closed him out of the bedroom, she pushed her lover onto their bed and seemed to melt out of her clothes.
As she struck a dancer's pose for him, he simply looked at her. He thought about doing something romantic, but instead fell on her like a wolf and she giggled like a teenager. It was good to love her, to have her love him, he decided, as he touched her. She responded with pleasure as her legs wrapped around him, her eyes closed, her mouth opened.
Much later, he suddenly understood that sometimes there was no reaching an end of desire, no satisfying it. They would never get enough of each other. But he kept this to himself.
They left for work separately; Sara took Hank to the sitter's so the dog would not be left alone for hours.
After a very long shift, Sara walked into Grissom's office to find him staring at his computer screen. He took several minutes before telling her of watching Ernie Dell put a gun to his head after confessing to murder. Showing a resolve that surpassed his own, Sara moved away from him, to a chair near his desk.
"It's over then," she whispered. "Are you okay? I—do you need anything?"
"No, I'll be okay." He paused, wiping his face before continuing. "That's never happened before—he—he killed himself as the police entered his house."
Sara stayed with him as he took several more minutes to assimilate what he had witnessed. Her phone chimed with an incoming call. Both grimaced as she answered, mouthing "the dog sitter" as she listened.
Responding with a few words, she finally ended the call as she met Grissom's eyes. She said, "Mrs. Roberts died early this morning. Her sister can't take Hank so he's officially an orphan unless we take him." She bit her lip and looked away.
"Well, I think we can adopt Hank. He seems to like both of us." Getting up from his desk, he walked around to her chair, touching her shoulder with his fingertips. "Come on, we'll go pick him up. You know, if he's going to be our dog, you could rename him."
Sara managed a weak smile. "I think Hank fits him just fine—unless you want to change it."
"He looks like a Bruno to me."
"Bruno? Where'd that come from? He knows he's Hank!" She laughed. "Hank he is and Hank he'll stay."
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