Author's Notes: Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
Moments
by Kristen Elizabeth
"I just don't understand why we can't go to there, like we have every year since we were married."
Grissom frowned into the silverware drawer. "Sara, do we even own a carving knife?"
His wife gave him the most exasperated look she could conjure. "Exactly what do we need to carve around here, Gil? Tofu?"
"Tofurkey?"
"Don't be cute. You know why she's coming, don't you?" She crossed her arms over her chest. "She's testing me."
He stopped rifling through the drawer long enough to shake his head. "My mother is not testing you."
"Of course she is. She wants to see if I'll cave under the pressure of presenting the Martha Stewart inspired dinner you're used to getting on Thanksgiving."
"You're giving her cooking a little too much credit."
Sara shrugged. "Maybe. But there's also the issue of Rosalind. You know exactly what she'll say; she's been saying it ever since she spoke her first word. 'Why don't you have her signing yet?'" Unconsciously, she started pacing the length of the kitchen. "She's barely out of diapers!"
"Sara, she just wants to be able to talk to her granddaughter."
But Sara was on a roll. "She's never thought I'm a good enough mother. All she ever says is 'when Gil was Rosalind's age, he could do this…he could do that.'" She scowled at her husband. "Apparently there was nothing you couldn't do by age five."
"Technically, my mother never 'says' anything. She might, from time to time, sign some of these things, but…"
"I hate it when you get technical while I'm being irrational!"
Grissom abandoned his search and reached out to stop her. Taking both of her hands in his, he asked, "Honey, what's going on?"
Her eyes were red with frustrated tears that she couldn't quite shed. "I don't know. I really don't. I guess I'm just tired."
"You haven't been sleeping well?"
"Too well. The alarm goes off and it's all I can do to get up." She sighed. "You know I'm not really upset about your mother coming for the week, right?"
"You are a little."
"I'm not. Really, she and I get along a lot better now that I can sign some. I just wish…"
"Mama, come here!" Rosalind cried out from the living room where she had, until that moment, been immersed in a Baby Einstein DVD.
Before she went to see what was going on in their daughter's world, Grissom gave her a soft kiss. "I'll take care of Thanksgiving dinner. All of it. If that'll help."
"Maybe just the meat," she sniffed. "Thanks."
Rosalind's issue was that her program had run its course and had cycled back to the DVD's main menu. Sara turned off the TV and picked her daughter up, setting her on the couch.
"Mama. Wanna watch show."
"No more show. One show a day, you know that." Sara gently grasped her daughter's little hands. "Let's play a game, sweetie." She took Rosalind's hands and crossed them over her daughter's heart. "This…means love."
Gil. What is this?
Grissom set down his fork to sign back, Eggplant casserole. Sara made it. I think you'll like it.
Mary Grissom adjusted her glasses, exactly as her son often did. It's not exactly traditional.
Sara is a vegetarian. You know that.
The woman in questionwatched the exchange of signs closely, catching only her name. "Mother," she addressed the older woman, speaking slowly and clearly. "How is everything?"
"Fine," she replied back in her stilted tone.
A few minutes of awkward silence passed. Grissom caught his wife's eye over the table and gave her a little smile of encouragement.
"Gammy," Rosalind said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. When she received no reply, her face scrunched up in irritation. Why was her grandmother ignoring her? "Gammy!"
Grissom tapped his mother's shoulder and pointed at the little girl. Mary smiled at her granddaughter. She's getting so big, Gil. When do you intend to give her a brother or a sister?
Sara caught the two words; she froze with her fork halfway to her mouth.
Shifting in his seat, Grissom signed, Mother, I've explained the situation to you several times now. It's a delicate subject.
I won't be around forever. I'd like to at least meet one more grandchild.
Please, Mother. His hand motions were jerky. Stop. She can understand some of this.
Maybe if you two hadn't waited so long to start having them…
Sara pushed away from the table. She didn't need to know every sign to know what was being discussed. "Excuse me."
Once inside the relative privacy of the kitchen, Sara did the only thing she could think to do. She grabbed a pot and started cleaning.
Grissom followed after her a few minutes later. He let her scrub away for another moment before he came up behind her and pried the pot out of her hands. "Honey, it's okay."
She shook her head. "It's not. She's right."
"She's not right. She's my mother and I love her, but she's not right." He turned her around to face him. "When it comes to our children, the only opinions that matter are ours."
Sara drew in a shaky breath. "I don't know what else I can do to make your mother like me. I tried teaching Rosalind to sign 'I love you,' but she's still a baby. And maybe you could sign at her age, but…"
"She's not me," Grissom finished. "And I don't want her to be. I want her to be her own person, not a shadow of either of us."
Resting her forehead on his shoulder, she closed her eyes. "Why do I let her stress me out so much?" Her head snapped up. "And just what was she saying about my eggplant casserole?"
"That it's delicious," Grissom lied. "Will you come back to the table?"
She pulled away from him and crossed to the other counter. "In a minute." Her mind still preoccupied, she didn't even realize that she reached out and took something from a plate in front of her. She bit into it. "I can't deal with her just yet…" Sara trailed off when she saw the look her husband was giving her. "What?"
"Sara." He pointed to the plate. "You just ate a piece of turkey."
She swallowed. "And I think I want another." Her hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my god."
He didn't need to ask; he was right there with her. "Do you think…"
"I don't know. I stopped counting days." Sara's eyes darted back and forth as she processed. "It could just be a fluke. Last time, I ate an entire hamburger. Medium rare. This was just a little sliver of turkey."
"But…you still ate meat. Our first clue that you were pregnant with Rosalind." Grissom moved to her. "Sara, it's worth taking the test."
"It could be too early for a test to show anything."
"We could run it in the lab again."
"Maybe…" Her hands trembled. "I can't get my hopes up too much. Especially not with your mother here as a witness."
"I'll take a blood sample there tonight. We'll have results by dinner tomorrow. If we're wrong, she'll never have to know. But if we're right…" His smile was wide. "…she'll have to like you. For a little while, at least."
The corners of Sara's lips turned up. "It's been thirty-seven days," she told him. "I just did the math." She kissed him, hot and hard. "Where do you want that blood sample, Dr. Grissom?"
To Be Continued