JJ and Reid headed back to the hospital in the early evening, finding Diana again propped up in her bed, reading.
"Hi Mom, I'm back. Do you remember I told you I'd be bringing a friend? This is Jennifer Jareau-we call her JJ. JJ, this my mother, Diana Reid."
JJ approached the bed. "Mrs. Reid, I'm so glad to see you again. I remember you visiting the BAU, but that case was so difficult, I don't think any of us were able to even speak with you."
Reid noticed his mother covering up the fact that she had no memory of having met JJ before. He recalled how skilled she'd gotten at covering her memory lapses when he was a child.
"Please call me "Diana"-and I think I would like to call you "Jennifer", if you don't mind," she said, shaking JJ's extended hand.
"Jennifer is fine-it's what my mother calls me. She doesn't understand why nobody wants to call me by the (making finger quotes) "perfectly beautiful name" she gave me. She'd be very happy."
"Mothers have very strong opinions when it comes to their children, don't they?"
JJ agreed. "Would that be why I think my son Henry is the cutest four year old on the planet?"
Diana gave a knowing nod. "That's right, Spencer told me earlier about your son. Did you bring him with you? Won't they let him visit?"
Reid watched JJ's face fall, and then her quick recovery for Diana's sake. "He's visiting with his dad's family in New Orleans. They rarely get to see him because we're so far away. I'm glad they're getting time with him, but I miss him so much." Not mentioning her separation from Will.
"He must miss his mother as well. Little boys are always very attached to their mothers," she said, directing her gaze at her own "little boy." And that little boy blushed.
"I called Henry earlier and read him a favorite story over the phone—we both have it memorized. It helps me to feel close to him when I have to be away."
Diana was lost in thought for a moment. "Spencer, I used to treasure those days when you would let me read to you." She paused a moment, then continued, "Honey, would you let me do it again? Can I read to my little boy?"
Blushing again, Reid looked at her and then at JJ, not certain what to make of the request. At the slightest nod from JJ, he gave a little smile and acquiesced. "Sure, Mom. That would be great."
JJ rose to leave. "I'll give you two some time alone."
But Diana stopped her. "Stay, Jennifer. Keep us company, and maybe you'll miss your Henry a little bit less tonight."
JJ smiled and, pulling a chair up to the side of the bed, settled in. Reid and Diana perused the assortment of books she'd had sent over from Bennington. He wasn't surprised to find both Proust and her favorite, Margery Kempe, in the mix. He noticed the Kempe had a marker in place, so asked her to read that one.
As Diana began, Reid reflected poignantly on her choice. He found it more comforting than he would have predicted that she'd been reading on what it was like to have a mystical experience of God. Perhaps she might fear death a little less if she thought a welcoming union ensued.
Diana read, "On a night, as this creature lay in her bed with her husband, she heard a sound of melody so sweet and delectable, that she thought she had been in Paradise, and therewith she started out of her bed and said: "Alas, that ever I did sin! It is full merry in Heaven."**
JJ watched both of them, mother and son, having fallen into a rhythm of their own. She saw Reid staring directly at his mother. It seemed like he was memorizing every detail of her-her hair, her eyes, her lips, her hands-even the timbre of her voice. She held back tears as she recognized he was creating an image that would have to sustain him when his mother was gone. She thought of Henry, and how he might one day do the same with her-and she prayed that he would want to.
After a while, Diana's voice struggled and it was clear that she was exhausted. They said their goodnights, and headed back to the hotel for the evening.
"JJ", Reid began hesitantly, "thank you for being so good with my mother. I know she can be an acquired taste. She really seemed to like you."
"Spence, she was wonderful! I know your childhood was difficult. But I watched the two of you tonight. Something she did was right. I saw how much you love her, and she loves you. I could almost literally feel it, it was that palpable."
Reid was silent a moment. "I do love her. And as hard as that has been, I'm terrified to lose her. I'm even more terrified not to do the right thing. One of the nurses told me Dr. Carson wants to meet with me in the morning to talk about advanced directives. He wants me to talk to her about what to do when she starts to die." His anguish was evident in his voice.
"Shouldn't the doctor discuss that with her?"
"She's not considered competent, because of the schizophrenia. So I'm the one who will have to discuss it with her." He expelled a deep breath. "I don't pray very often-haven't even been sure who or what I'd be praying to-but I find myself praying constantly these past few days. And right now, I'm praying for the right words, and the right decisions."
"Well, I do believe in prayer, Spence. Even more, I believe in you. You'll do the right thing, because that's what a son who loves his mother does." She went on, "I'm exhausted, and you must be even more tired than I am. Try to get some sleep. I know it won't be easy, but at least rest. I'll see you in the morning." And tiptoeing, she gave him a soft kiss on his cheek.
"Good night, JJ, and thanks again. I don't know how I was thinking I could have done this alone."
**The Book of Margery Kempe, Ch. 3; p. 5.