Chapter 18 Awkward Moments

Major Case Squad Room, same day

The Bobby Goren that entered the squad room an hour later was a far cry from the Bobby Goren that had eaten lunch with Alex Eames. This Bobby Goren had showered, shaved completely, and put on a suit, complete with tie and silver tie clip.

As he exited the elevator and entered the squad room, he drew the glances and stares of his co-workers. Mike Logan noticed his partner's stare, and turned to see what she was looking at.

"Wow, Goren. You clean up good," Mike said appreciatively. "What's the occasion, hot date?"

Goren just cocked an eyebrow at him and continued on towards his desk. Mike chuckled and turned back to his own work.

Alex had looked up at Logan's comment and was smiling at Bobby when he reached his desk. "You DO look nice, Bobby. I see you shaved, even. Impressive." She leaned towards him and lowered her voice. "Did you call Amy? Are you meeting her, is that the reason for the suit?"

Bobby smiled and nodded at her as he sat down at his desk. He laid his binder off to the side. "As soon as I get finished here. Are these the papers you need me to sign?" He indicated the folders in a neat stack in the center of his desk with a wave of his hand.

"Mmm-hmm," Alex answered him as she turned her attention back to the stack in front of her.

Working in tandem, the two made short work of the task in front of them and soon found both desks free of paperwork. Bobby looked up at Eames and exhaled loudly, a look of satisfaction on his face. He reached his arms above his head and stretched. Alex smiled at him, taking in his best suit, bright blue shirt, and perfect tie choice. "Hoping to make a good impression?"

Bobby gave her a bashful look. "Well, it's been 25 years, Eames. Can't hurt to put my best foot forward now, can it?" He stood and looked at his watch. "I have to go. I agreed to get over to her place by 4. Do you need me for anything else?"

"No, go on, get out of here," Eames said, waving towards the elevators. "Anything else will wait until tomorrow. Call me later?"

He smiled and nodded at her, then headed towards the elevator.

Wainwright House, Upper East Side

Bobby pulled up outside Amy's stately brownstone at precisely 4 pm. He turned off the engine, stuck the keys in his pocket, and suddenly found himself frozen in his seat, unable to move. What would she say to him after all these years? Would she have a bruise on her face or would she have covered it up with make-up? Would Trey be there? Would her parents be there? What if he said the wrong thing, would he make it worse? Could it get any worse? Of course it could, she could have invited him here to tell him it was all a mistake and they never wanted to see him ever again, and then he would finally and completely be all alone in this world. Eames didn't count; partners at work don't count, he told himself.

Count. Does Amy count? Does Trey count? Does finding out you suddenly have a family you never knew about count? Family. It would be nice to have a family. A real family, he corrected himself. One with normal people in it having normal lives doing normal things. Not like his family; no one in his family had ever done anything normal. His mom was a paranoid schizophrenic who had died of lymphoma, his brother was an alcoholic drug addict and his dad was a physically abusive, womanizing drunk. He was a nut job loner on the police force. Not exactly family of the year award-winning material, he scoffed to himself.

He thought he saw the curtains in the front window flutter slightly, and started when he realized he'd been sitting there, staring into space and getting all worked up over what could turn out to be a bunch of nothing for the last ten minutes that he was now late. Damn it, he said to himself. He hated to be late, especially when he had promised to be somewhere at a certain time. Well, better late than never, he thought next. Besides, it's been twenty-five years already, what's another ten minutes?

He opened the car door and got out. Standing up straight and tall, he adjusted his jacket, checked his tie and the placement of his tie clip, locked his car and took a deep breath. Then he turned, and began to make his way around the front of his car and towards the steps up to Amy's front door.

Amy had seen his car drive up from where she watched out the window. She nervously wrung her hands as she watched him carefully parallel park the Malibu and turn off the engine. She saw him sit there in the driver's seat as though he were frozen. She wondered what was going on inside his head. Were his thoughts about this as jumbled as hers were? Was he curious at all about the last twenty-five years? Had he finally guessed the real reason why she had never told him about the baby? Would he even care? Was he really here to listen to her side of the story, or to tell her he never wanted to see her or her family again? Would he accuse her of lying to him yet again, of making up the story about him being Trey's father just to get him back in her life again? Stop it, Amy, she admonished herself. Goodness, you're as nervous as a school girl on a first date with the captain of the football team.

She dropped the curtain and moved back from the window when she realized he was looking in her direction. Mustn't appear too anxious, she reminded herself. We don't want to seem desperate. But, she was desperate. She desperately wanted Bobby back in her life, in Trey's life, in Hudson's life. Watching Trey lose Laura had made her realize what losing Bobby had done for her; now that she had "found" him, she didn't want to lose him again.

Amy forced herself to sit on the couch when she saw Bobby approaching the front door. Let Mrs. Mitchell get it, she coached herself. Be proper. She waited for the doorbell to ring.

Bobby walked up the steps to Amy's home. He raised his arm to ring the doorbell, then, thinking about the last time he was here, he reached into his pocket. Pulling out his cell phone, he turned it off; he didn't need anything interrupting this visit. Replacing the phone in his pocket, he took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.

Amy jumped when the doorbell actually rang; she pressed her hand to her chest at her reaction. She could not believe she was so nervous. It was just Bobby, after all. But that was the problem, it was Bobby. The Bobby whom she hadn't seen in twenty-five years. The Bobby who just found out the other day that he was not only a father, but a grandfather. The Bobby whom she yelled at and hit with her purse in the middle of his workplace. The same Bobby she once dated and fell in love with. That Bobby.

Her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears she could hardly hear as she watched Mrs. Mitchell walk to the front door. Her palms began to sweat as she watched Mrs. Mitchell open the front door and speak to the man on the other side. She sat as still as a statue as she listened to Mrs. Mitchell greeting Bobby.

"Hello," said Mrs. Mitchell in her graceful soft voice. "You must be Mr. Goren. Please do come in." In her mind, Amy could see Mrs. Mitchell opening the door completely, stepping to the side as she did so, and waving Bobby into the entryway. "I'm Mrs. Mitchell, the housekeeper. It is so nice to meet you. Amy is waiting for you in the sitting room. If you'll follow me, please?"

Amy heard Bobby's murmured response then the closing of the door, followed by the sound of Mrs. Mitchell's no nonsense shoes on the hardwood floor, along with Bobby's heavier steps. As the sounds grew louder, Amy took a deep breath, and stood, rubbing her sweaty hands down her skirt in an effort to both dry her hands and straighten her skirt at the same time.

"Amy, Mr. Goren is here to see you," Mrs. Mitchell announced from the sitting room doorway. "Would you like me to bring some coffee?"

Amy looked questioningly at Bobby, who nodded. "Yes, please," Amy said to Mrs. Mitchell. "Thank you."

Mrs. Mitchell nodded and left quietly. Bobby continued to stand in the doorway to the sitting room, looking very lost. Amy continued to stand next to the wing chair, looking very nervous.

"Hi," she said finally.

"Hi," Bobby said back timidly. "You look great."

"Thanks," Amy replied. "You do, too." She stood there for a moment, and then seemed to come to her senses. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? Please, come in and sit down." She gestured to the elegant sofa.

Bobby sat stiffly on the sofa and Amy returned to the comfort and familiarity of her favorite wing chair. Neither one spoke; Bobby looked around the room, taking in the tall windows, the elegant draperies, the shelves lined with books and knickknacks and photographs, his gaze finally landing on the small round table, the same one that had caught Eames's eye the day she was here to question Amy. He did a double-take as he thought he recognized one of the photographs, and he rose and crossed the room, taking it in his hands in seamless motion. Amy was once again taken aback by his grace and fluidity; it reminded her of the night they met at the USO twenty-five years ago.

"I thought I recognized this picture," Bobby said, turning his head to look at Amy. "You've had it out all this time?"

"Yes, it's my favorite. Although after all the trouble it's caused me lately, I think I may put it away somewhere," she replied ruefully.

Bobby carefully replaced the photograph onto the table and moved back towards the sofa. Stopping in front of Amy, he looked at her and said, "I brought something. I hope you don't mind."

"A present?"

"Not really," Bobby said mysteriously as he reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a picture. Deliberately keeping the back of the photograph facing her, he said teasingly, "It's my favorite picture of you."

"Uh, oh, I don't like the look on your face. Which one is it?"

"No, you have to guess."

"Guess? I'm supposed to remember one photograph of me from twenty-five years ago that's been your favorite all this time?" She sighed as Bobby just stood there and nodded at her with a mischievous smile on his face. "Is it one you took?" He shook his head. "Is it one my parents took?" He shook his head again. Amy looked at him suspiciously. "NO! It can't be the one Susan took!" Bobby nodded and grinned even wider. Amy gasped at him. "You can't be serious! That horrid picture of me in the PX is your favorite?"

Bobby held out the picture and Amy took it gently from his fingers. "Oh, my god," she breathed, looking at the photograph. "I remember that day. Susan had just gotten the camera for her birthday. It was one of those really fancy Nikons with all the lenses and attachments and features. She couldn't wait to try it out on everyone." She sank back into the chair and stared at the picture some more. "Wow, does this bring back memories. I can't believe you saved it after all these years." She looked at him in awe.

He moved to the sofa and sat back down, placing his arms on his legs and leaning in towards her. "I thought you'd enjoy seeing that picture again." He reached out his arm and held his hand open to take the photo back from her. Her fingers brushed lightly against his and sent frissons of electricity shooting up his arm. He exercised every bit of self-control not to react to her touch, noticing Amy doing the same out of the corner of his eye. He'd think about that later, he decided, re-pocketing the photograph.

An awkward silence engulfed them then. Bobby shifted his gaze off Amy and took in the rest of the neatly appointed room. Only Mrs. Mitchell's entrance with their coffee a few minutes later broke the tension that had once again arisen between them.

While Mrs. Mitchell prepared and served their coffee, Amy took a moment to formally introduce her to Bobby. "Mrs. Mitchell has been with us for the last twenty-five years," she smiled warmly at the older woman. "She started off as Trey's nanny, and then, when he was 12 and announced to us all at dinner one night that he was "too old for a nanny," we asked her to stay on as housekeeper. She's absolutely wonderful and we wouldn't trade her for the world." Mrs. Mitchell beamed at Amy's praise, picked up the tray and stood.

"This coffee is wonderful, Mrs. Mitchell," Bobby told her with a smile. Mrs. Mitchell stood a little straighter and beamed even brighter at Bobby's charm. "Now I see where Trey gets his charm and good looks," she said to Amy. Amy blushed embarrassed and ashamed at having not yet told Mrs. Mitchell just who Bobby was. "Oh, don't be embarrassed, child. I knew he was Trey's daddy from the moment I laid eyes on him. I just can't believe you've kept him in the dark all these years," she chided Amy. "Well, that's none of my business, is it? What IS my business is getting these things back to the kitchen and seeing to dinner." She looked at Bobby again. "Will you be joining us for dinner?"

"Yes ma'am, thank you," Bobby responded politely and smiled at her again.

Amy watched Mrs. Mitchell leave the room with a spring in her step, and she turned to Bobby. "Thank you Bobby," she told him gratefully. Bobby looked at her questioningly. "She hasn't had a spring in her step like that since before Laura died. It's nice to see her smiling like that again, too."

"Well, maybe I'll have to come around and visit her more often, then. Would you like that, Amy," he asked her softly, his warm brown eyes piercing her soul.

Amy turned her head away, then rose and went to the window, leaving her coffee untouched on the table. She stared out blankly and absent-mindedly rubbed one hand up and down over the other arm. Bobby watched her carefully, recognizing in her a need for silence on his part. She sighed deeply and continued to rub her arm. "I don't know, Bobby," she said softly. "I do, but I don't," her voice trailed off and her breath became ragged. "It's all wrong," she said next her voice ending on a sob.

Hearing the soft sob and the catch in her throat, Bobby rose and joined her at the window. "Amy," he asked her softly. She turned and Bobby saw the tears that had formed in her eyes and the sadness that had changed their bright blueness into dreary grey.

"I can stay away, if that's what you want." He watched the emotions that played across her face and swam in the teary blueness of her eyes. She dipped her head; he reached out, gently lifted her chin with a finger then wiped away one of her tears with his thumb. Amy was taken aback by the kindness and gentleness in both his eyes and his gesture and felt she would begin to cry even harder. "You don't want me to stay away, do you," he asked her softly. She shook her head. "And therein lies the problem, because I don't quite know what to make of this whole situation either. I thought you had invited me over here to explain your actions all those years ago. I thought we were going to talk about where I fit in now?"

"We are, I just, I don't know, I expected to you come over here all angry and yelling at me. I was prepared for that; I could handle that." Amy started crying, her words coming out on sobs and gasps. "That would have made it easier for me to keep you at arm's length, but here you come over all nice and polite and you bring me that picture and treat me with kindness, and," she was really crying hard now, Bobby could hardly understand her words, and she was wringing her hands, which was driving him crazy. He gently grabbed her hands in his larger ones, and she began to cry even louder. Before he knew what he was doing, he pulled her into his arms and rubbed his hands up and down her back in an effort to calm her sobs and soothe her troubled soul.

"Amy," he said firmly, trying to cut through her crying and get her to settle down. "Amy," he said even more firmly, this time pushing her back slightly with his hands on his shoulders. She looked at him and sniffed loudly. "I'm too old to be crying like this on someone's shoulders," she sniffed again and smiled feebly at him. "I'm sorry; I'm a mess." Their eyes met, and twenty-five years seemed to slip away as Bobby replied huskily, "I think you look beautiful."

The sound of running footsteps, followed by a heavy thud against Bobby's legs brought them back to the present. Bobby heard a childish voice cry out, "Daddy! Daddy!" and looked down in time to see the top of a curly blond head against his leg.He gave Amy a confused look as she quickly wiped her eyes with her hands and squatted down to the little creature.

"Hi, Hudson," she told the little boy. He looked at her and smiled. "Nana," he squealed. "Daddy home!" Hudson looked up at the man whose leg he was holding, then let go and looked at his Nana, a scared expression on his little face. "No Daddy," he told her, and looked as though he was about to cry.

Amy gave Hudson a small squeeze and motioned for Bobby to squat down next to her. As he did so, she said gently, "Hudson, this is Bobby."

"Boppy," Hudson questioned, looking back and forth from Amy to Bobby curiously.

"That's right," Amy said nodding and smiling at the little boy. "Bobby is your granddaddy."

"Hi, Hudson," Bobby said softly, staring in wonder and amazement at the toddler. Hudson was a beautiful child, almost cherubic with his curly blonde hair and big blue eyes. Amy's eyes, Bobby thought. He looks like his dad, but he has his grandmother's eyes.

Suddenly, Hudson threw himself at Bobby, wrapping his little arms tightly around Bobby's neck and burrowing his head into Bobby's shoulder. Bobby quickly regained his balance and hugged the child back. He felt a small hand patting him on the back and heard a little voice say, "My Boppy." At that moment, Bobby felt he would never be the same person.

His eyes were misty as he looked at her; he gave her a small smile. Amy answered with one of her own. No words were necessary; Amy had seen the tension leave his body as Hudson had hugged him. She, too, choked up as Hudson pronounced the man he hugged to be his "Boppy." She hoped at that moment that nothing would ever cause Bobby to be out of her family's life again. It would take time for them to rebuild the trust and respect her actions had taken away from them, but she was determined to rebuild it and her family in the process.

She heard Christy calling Hudson from down the hallway, and rose quietly, putting out her hand to stop the nanny from approaching. Christy took a few more soft silent steps and met Amy's gesture and eyes with a questioning expression. Her mouth formed a silent "Oh" as she took in the sight of her little charge hugging the big man squatted on the floor.

Amy tapped Bobby gently on the shoulder. He looked up at her and stood, still holding his grandson. Hudson turned as Bobby stood and spotted Christy standing in the hallway. "Kissy" he squealed delightedly, squirming and trying to reach her. Christy stepped forward and reached for her little charge, taking him easily from the newcomer. She gasped when she realized she was staring at an older version of her employer, Mr. Wainwright. She cast Amy a very confused glance.

Amy gave a small chuckle. "Christy Anderson, this is my old friend, and Trey's father, Bobby Goren. Bobby, this is Christy Anderson, Hudson's nanny."

"Hi," said Christy shyly. Oh, my, she said to herself. Miss Amy has got some explaining to do later. He's gorgeous! Too bad I'm not twenty years older, or I'd be fighting her for him.

"Hello, it's nice to meet you," Bobby said to her, an amused expression on his face as he watched the play of expressions over the young woman's face.

Suddenly, Hudson patted Christy on the cheek. "Cookie," he proclaimed loudly. "Want cookie!"

"Okay, you little monster," she answered him affectionately, giving his side a little tickle. He giggled with glee and she looked at Amy and Bobby again. "If you'll excuse me, I need to get this little guy a cookie. It was nice to meet you," she told Bobby as she shifted her hold on Hudson and turned back towards the kitchen.

"She seems very fond of the little guy," Bobby commented as he watched the two of them head off down the hall.

"It's mutual," Amy agreed. "She is such a God-send; and now, with Laura gone, we value her even more. I honestly don't know how we would have gotten along without her these last few weeks."

"I can't believe I'm a grandfather, Amy," Bobby said incredulously. "I'm too young to be a grandfather."

"We were too young to be parents, too," Amy said softly. Bobby turned towards her and saw his sadness mirrored in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," Bobby said.

"I'm not," Amy said. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you and caused you to miss out on so much, but I'm not sorry it happened. Trey's been the best thing that could have ever happened to me, Bobby. I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world. There's so much more I need to say to you, but I promised my dad he could have a chance to visit and catch up with you some before dinner." She put her arm through his and began to guide him down the hall to the back of the house. "What say I take you next door and hand you over to my dad for a pre-dinner drink," she looked up at him with a questioning smile on her face. "He has a great selection of Scotch," she let her words dangle in front of him with a teasing glint in her deep blue eyes.

"Lead on," said Bobby.