Author's Notes: Even though I was impatient, and posted before she got a chance to look at it, I still have to thank my beta, PhDelicious, for her general awesomeness. The same goes for everyone reading this:) Thank you!
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The Last Embrace
by Kristen Elizabeth
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April 1989
"How is your brother?"
For a moment, it seemed like the only response she would get to her question was a shrug. But after a moment, her daughter added, "Last I heard, he was in Las Vegas."
"Awful city. I hope he's staying out of trouble."
"I doubt he could even if he wanted to." There was a long pause. "I didn't come here to chat."
Four years in prison had forced Laura to construct walls around her heart. But ever since she'd arrived for her first visit in two years, her daughter's cold, impersonal tone had been chipping away at her defenses.
Gone was the fifteen year old who'd spent the entire visit talking about her science project and the boy in her class who had big ears, but was oh-so cute. She'd still been "mom" to that girl.
The seventeen year-old sitting in front of her made it clear through every word, every motion, that she not only didn't need a mother, she didn't want one.
Sara sat on the other side of the stone table, framed by a backdrop of barbed wire fences. The courtyard of the women's prison was no place for her daughter. Laura knew this. But she'd selfishly requested this visit through Lucinda, Sara's DCFS caseworker, desperate to reconnect with her child.
"Why did you come?" Laura asked, her voice hoarse.
Sara looked off to the side for a long moment, allowing her mother the chance to study her. She was lovely, even though she tried to hide it through the absence of any makeup or jewelry. Her hair was stubbornly wavy, but instead of taking advantage of this natural curl, she left it limp around her shoulders. No hairspray, no mousse. Laura's hands fairly itched to do something with her daughter's locks. Like she had when she was little.
When Sara looked back, her lips were set in a stubborn line that made her look at least a decade older. "I came to say goodbye."
Laura's heart skipped a beat. "What?"
"I got into Harvard. Early admission." Sara paused. "I'm leaving in two weeks."
"But…" Her head spun. "Harvard is three thousand miles away!"
"Exactly," her daughter replied sharply. "Trust me, if Oxford had given me a full scholarship, I'd be heading there instead."
Laura tried to wet her lips, but her mouth was dry. "You're seventeen."
"I'll be eighteen in a few months." Sara shook her head. "I'm not asking for your opinion. It's a done deal. I just wanted to tell you in person." A tiny crack appeared in her stony façade. "Aren't you even going to congratulate me?"
"You're running away," Laura accused her.
Sara blinked. "Yeah. Maybe. Can you blame me?"
She swallowed, her throat sticking. "Sara…sweetie…you know I'm up for parole in a year. My lawyer says there's no way I won't get it. I'll be out here!"
"So what?"
"So…so we'll be a family again! We'll find your brother wherever he is and…" She stopped when she saw Sara shaking her head again. "You don't believe me?"
"I believe that you think it's that easy. But it's not. Besides…when were we a family? When Dad was slamming you into walls? When Adam was getting high? When I was walking four miles home from school because no one remembered to pick me up?"
"Things have changed, Sara."
Her reply was swift and bitter. "So, killing Dad was just a big band-aid?"
Laura pressed a hand against her aching chest. "Sweetie, please…don't do this to me."
"All I'm doing is trying to have some kind of a normal life. If you really care about me, you'll be happy for me." Sara hesitated. "I'm going with or without your approval. I just thought…you might like to say goodbye."
By this time, sobs were welling up faster than Laura could think to stop them. "I can't say that, Sara. Not to my little girl…" Her words dissolved into tears.
Sara tugged the sleeves of her jeans jacket down over her hands and tucked them under her armpits, either for warmth or protection. "I'm not going to feel bad about this. I'm just not." She stood up. "Lucinda will know how to contact me in Massachusetts in case of emergency. Other than that, can you just…leave me alone?"
Laura looked up and met her daughter's blank, brown stare. "What happened to you…to make you like this?"
"Nothing that you didn't make happen." Sara backed up a few steps. "Good luck with the parole board." If she wanted to say anything else, she held it back. "Bye."
And then, she was gone.
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A day that starts with a phone call from your child's daycare, informing you that your child has been biting other children, is already destined to be a bad day. Sara figured that only managing to catch two hours of sleep before that phone call arrived was just another nail in the coffin of the day that had just begun.
"Cassie is a bright, engaging child," the daycare teacher told Sara when she arrived to pick her daughter up. "But she's been getting more aggressive with the other children. We're aware that she's lost her father, and that can certainly account for some behavioral changes, even in the little ones. But we simply can't let this go on."
"Are you saying she won't be welcome back tomorrow?"
"I'm saying…perhaps you should think about getting her some help. There are several excellent child psychologists in the area. I can get you their numbers."
Sara stared at the petite woman. "You're seriously suggesting that I send my fifteen month-old daughter to therapy?"
"Mrs. Stokes…"
"Sidle."
The woman blushed. "I'm sorry. Ms. Sidle. I think we all have Cassie's best interest at heart. But I also have to think about the other children, as well. Especially the ones who have been bitten."
Maybe it was the fact that she was bone-tired, but Sara lifted her chin, defensively. "I'd like to see some evidence that connects my daughter's teeth to these alleged bite marks."
She spent the next twenty minutes collecting her daughter's things. She added 'find new daycare' to her mental list of chores, and drove Cassie home.
What was waiting for her there was even more disconcerting.
As Sara entered from the garage, hauling her daughter on one hip, Laura looked up from the newspaper's daily sodoku puzzle.
"What's the matter?" she immediately asked. "Is she sick?"
"She's fine," Sara replied, setting down a bulging bag of extra clothes and diapers. "I've decided that her daycare facility no longer suits her needs, and I'll be looking for a new establishment. One that will display patience and understanding with a child who's just lost a parent. And one that won't suggest she be analyzed before her second birthday!"
Picking up her coffee cup, Laura followed her into the living room. She waited as Sara set Cassie up in her playpen with a few toys, put a Baby Einstein DVD on, and fell back into the couch in utter exhaustion.
"Something came for you," she finally said.
"What is it?" She didn't even bother to open her eyes.
"I think you should see for yourself."
With a sigh, Sara pulled herself to her feet. She followed her mother's pointed finger until her gaze landed on the dining room table.
Was it déjà vu if you really did experience something twice? It was the same plant, the same green stalks, the same hint of purple color. Would the card read the same, or had he come up with more things to say in the seven years since he sent the last one?
"Who's it from?" Laura asked softly. Like she already knew the answer, but needed to be sure.
Sara lifted the card and opened it with a hesitant hand.
Beauty is unbearable, drives us to despair, offering us for a minute the glimpse of an eternity that we should like to stretch out over the whole of time. – Albert Camus
"Sara?" her mother asked after a few minutes slipped by. "Everything all right?"
She slipped the card into her pocket and turned to face her mother. "Can you watch Cassie? I need to…" She pointed at the staircase. When Laura nodded, Sara headed upstairs.
Torn between confusion, anger, hope and sorrow, Sara retreated into the room she'd shared with Nick. She sat on the edge of the bed, and nibbled on her thumbnail for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, when she couldn't take her own thoughts any longer, she reached for the phone and dialed information.
"What city and state?"
"Knoxville, Tennessee."
"What listing?"
"The University of Tennessee, Anthropology department."
"One moment, please."
Sara tapped her heel against the floor rapidly until she was connected. "Thanks for calling the UT Knoxville Anthropology department. I'm Donna-Sue. How can I help you?"
"Is…um…what are Gil Grissom's office hours?"
"I think they're right now. He just passed through a minute ago. Would you like me to connect you?"
Sara nodded. "Yes. Please."
Another second passed. The phone rang twice before it was answered. "Dr. Grissom's office, Reese speaking."
Frozen to the spot, all Sara could do was keep breathing.
"Hello?" the familiar voice went on. "Is anyone there?"
She found her own voice eventually. "Yes. Is Dr. Grissom available?"
"Hold on one second." The girl on the other end lowered the phone, but didn't cover the mouthpiece well enough. Sara could plainly hear her. "Gil, phone for you."
The phone transferred hands. "Grissom."
She was surprised that the words came as easily as they did. "Hasn't she graduated yet?"
"Sara." He cleared his throat. "Hi. Hello. This is…unexpected."
She shook her head at him, even though he couldn't see it. "Really? You thought you could send that plant with that note and not get a call?"
He said nothing for a minute. "I was thinking about you. And the next thing I knew, I was ordering it."
"You don't mean to…but you really make things hard."
"I know, honey." A fist squeezed her heart at hearing that one word. Clueless to her pain, Grissom went on. "It's finals week. After this, I have some vacation time." He paused. "If I came to town, would you…"
Sara waited for him to finish the sentence. But he left it right there, unwilling or unable to decide the barriers between them. What was allowed, what was forbidden…he was leaving it up to her.
"Give me call when you land," she finally said. "We'll go from there." Before she hung up, Sara added, "Oh, and tell Reese I said hello. It's been awhile since we spoke."
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To Be Continued