Author's Notes: Muchos gracias to my beta, PhDelicious. And, in the immortal words of the Bartles and Jaymes guys, thanks for your support.
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The Last Embrace
by Kristen Elizabeth
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June 1994
"Hey, Laura. Your daughters's name is Sara, right?"
Her head snapped up. Unfortunately, so did her hand, which was currently holding an iron in place, attempting to turn Mrs. Johanssen's stick straight locks into curls.
"Ow!" her client protested the sharp tug on her hair.
"I'm sorry," Laura half-heartedly apologized. She unwound the limp curl and turned her attention to her co-worker, Anna, at the next station over. "Yeah, Sara. My daughter. Why?"
"Well…" Anna squirted some mousse into her hands. "My best friend Meredith is dating this guy, Jason, who just graduated from Berkeley. They've only been seeing each other for a month or so, but it's already way serious." She started combing the mousse through her client's hair with her fingers. "They had the usual 'who's the last person you dated' conversation the other night, and his answer was a girl named Sara Sidle that he knew from school."
"My Sara goes to Harvard."
"Yeah, I remember you saying that. But it's not like Sara Sidle is a really common name. Not like Jennifer Smith or something. Plus Meredith said that Jason told her his ex-girlfriend had just moved back to the west coast. So it got me thinking, you know?"
Laura separated another lock of Mrs. Johanssen's hair, but her mind wasn't on her work. "Did he say anything else about her?"
"Meredith likes having all the details," Anna said with scoff. "Personally, I want to know as little as possible about my boyfriend's exes. But she says she likes to know what she's gonna be compared to. According to her, this Sara is tall…Meredith likes that 'cause she short. He wouldn't say if she was pretty, which means she is. And she's way smart…like, she graduated with honors smart."
"She's graduated then?" Laura asked anxiously.
"Uh-huh. Um…some science, I think. I don't know. They broke up because she wanted to go to grad school. And he was totally interested in settling down. Good thing for Meredith that she was next to come along, right?" Anna chattered on. "I swear! Why can't my luck be that good? A smart guy who's ready to commit? And who's not gay? How often does that come along?"
Laura had stopped listening. She swallowed heavily, and addressed her client. "I'll be right back."
The back of the salon smelled like hair dye and acetone, but she breathed deeply until her pulse stopped racing.
Although she hadn't spoken to her daughter in five years, she'd kept up with her through Lucinda for two of those years. The last time Sara had contacted her former case worker, before she moved out of the dorm to an undisclosed apartment, it was to tell her that she was doing fine. Nothing more than that, but Laura had latched onto the tidbit of information like she did anything regarding her kids.
While Sara had been doing fine at Harvard, Adam had overdosed on heroin in a motel room in Phoenix. She'd had no way of contacting Sara to let her know.
But now she was back in California. Yet…Sara hadn't made any move to find her. There were things she wanted to say to her daughter, wanted to tell her…needed her to understand.
The parole board had deemed her worthy of a second chance. Could her daughter do the same?
Back in the salon, Anna was still going on about the odds of catching an eligible man so close to San Francisco. Laura took another deep breath and returned to Mrs. Johanssen's side.
She picked her curling iron up and asked, in as nonchalant a tone as she could manage, "Could you ask Meredith if Jason happens to have Sara's address or phone number?"
The look Anna gave her was one of affectionate pity, something she could barely stand receiving from a 22 year-old girl. "Sure thing."
A week later, she had Sara's phone number at Berkeley. But every time she tried to dial it, she froze up. Sara's voice would reply in her head.
Leave me alone…
She never made the call.
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Sara knew who it was before she even answered. She blamed it on some sort of sixth sense that she only possessed where he was concerned.
"You're here," she said, unnecessarily.
"I'm here," he repeated. "Hailing a cab as we speak."
She put a hand over her suddenly-queasy stomach. "What hotel are you staying at?"
"Chez Willows." He explained, "Catherine offered me her guest bedroom, and I accepted."
Surprised by her own smile, Sara nodded. "Okay. Well, I'm sure she has something planned for you…late lunch…early dinner."
"I'm sure she doesn't. I just spoke to her, and she's still in court." There was a long pause. "I want to see you, Sara."
She was powerless. She always had been.
An hour later she was sitting in their usual booth in their usual diner, desperate for a cup of coffee to calm her nerves. Her hands shook; she grabbed a packet of sugar and rolled it between her fingers.
"Sara."
She dropped the sugar and looked up. Oh, that face…that damn face.
Grissom slid into the booth. He was wearing a royal blue shirt…did he remember that she'd bought it for him once upon a time?
"You grew the beard back." Of all the things she could have said to him after two years, and that's what she chose. She could have kicked herself.
He ran his hand down his chin. "You always liked it."
"It makes you look distinguished." Sara shook her head. "I never understood why you shaved it." That was a lie. She had her suspicions.
"Tennessee gets very cold," Grissom said, nodding when the waitress appeared with a coffee pot. She filled his cup and moved off. "The beard provides insulation."
"Handy." They were quiet for awhile as Grissom sipped his coffee. Sara struggled to keep her gaze focused on the table between them. She didn't want to study him, and she didn't want to know if he was studying her. "How long are you going to be here?"
"Awhile. Sara…I didn't tell you this on the phone." He paused. "I'm so sorry about Nick."
Her heart and her stomach twisted in unison. "Thanks."
"He called me a few months ago."
"What?" They locked stares. "Why?"
Grissom shook his head. "I don't know. I never actually spoke to him. He left a message with…"
"Reese," she supplied.
"He wanted me to call him back. I didn't." He looked away. For a moment, she thought she saw moisture in his eyes. "I will regret that forever."
"He had his own regrets," Sara whispered.
"And knowing Nick, he was probably calling to ask for forgiveness." Grissom looked back. His eyes were dry. "He didn't do anything wrong."
She nodded. "In the shoot-out of our relationship, he was the innocent bystander."
Another long pause plagued them. "I try not to think about that time too much," he finally said.
"I think about it every day."
The waitress reappeared just then. "Can I get either of you something more than coffee?"
Grissom shook his head, but Sara requested a plate of French fries.
"Fries?" he asked a moment later.
"If we're going to start talking seriously, I need a full stomach."
He smiled sadly. "We don't need to rehash all of it if you don't want to."
"I've never been very good at dealing with my past." Sara rubbed the back of her neck. "Then my mother moved in."
"How's that going?"
She thought before replying. "Better than I expected. So maybe if I can face those demons…I might be able to face these."
Grissom cleared his throat. "I've been called many things, that's a first for 'demon'."
"Maybe that wasn't the right choice of words." Sara closed her eyes tightly to keep tears from escaping. "I'm sorry."
"Honey..." He said like he had the first time she'd heard it…soft, low, and without thinking about what it might do to her.
Later, she would blame her response on hormones. "I've forgotten how to talk to you! It's like…you're a stranger sitting across from me!" When she opened her eyes, the tears ran free down her cheeks. "I hate it! And I hate that I'm mostly to blame for it!" She made angry swipes at her face with the back of her hand. "I've known since I was thirteen that one night…one act…could ruin lives. I just never thought I'd be responsible for…"
His hand covered hers. "You weren't. Not entirely."
Slowly, Sara turned her hand over until their palms touched. "I have no right to ask this." Grissom waited for her to go on. "I have to think about…the past every time I see my daughter." She looked him straight in the eye. "How can you not think about it every time you see…"
He waited again, but she never finished the thought. The waitress arrived with her fries, plopping the plate down without much care. It was like a wall coming down between them.
Grissom drew his hand back. "Better eat them before they get cold."
Sara bit into a fry, but it tasted like cardboard. Her hand was still warm.
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To Be Continued