Author's Notes: Thank you to everyone who read and reviewed the last chapter. I plan to keep writing as long as the stories keep coming, so I hope you keep enjoying!
Moments
by Kristen Elizabeth
It doesn't matter how many times a doctor stresses that it's nothing more than a routine procedure…hearing that your child has to have surgery is terrifying. And feeling in any way responsible for the condition that needs to be corrected has to be devastating.
So Sara tried to be understanding when Grissom pulled his hand away from hers and stood up abruptly. He walked to the back of Dr. LaMiera's office and took a full ten seconds to collect himself.
"Did I do this to him?"
Samuel's pediatrician glanced at Sara before answering. "No, Dr. Grissom."
He wasn't going to be so easily comforted. "You know the medical history on my side of the family. You're telling me that my son's hearing problem has nothing to do with that?"
"That's what I'm telling you. Samuel is suffering from chronic otitis media."
"Ear infections," Sara said softly. "Gil…"
In one corner of the room, the child in question was very contentedly building a tower with the blocks provided. He took a break from his work to look up at his father with a big smile, displaying his two year-old baby teeth.
Grissom turned back around. "I had ear infections as a child. All the time."
"Many children do," Dr. LaMiera reminded them. "Your genetic condition didn't manifest until much later in your life, am I right?" He reluctantly nodded. "This is a very common affliction. But it's not to be taken too lightly, either. Chronic infections are much more serious because of the potential for long-term damage. That's why I recommend we schedule the surgery as soon as possible."
"The tubes will prevent future infections?" Sara asked.
"By allowing for drainage, yes." Dr. LaMiera paused. "I understand your concerns. But we've caught the problem so early on that it's highly unlikely there will be any permanent hearing loss."
A long moment passed as Grissom watched his son play. "Can we be with him during the procedure?" The doctor looked skeptical. "My wife and I want to…"
Sara craned her neck to see her husband. "Please don't speak for me. I am not going to watch them…" Her hand drifted to her mouth. "…cut into my baby…"
"It's a very different thing when it's your own child on the table, Dr. Grissom," the doctor gently pointed out. "But if you insist, I can arrange for you to watch the surgery."
His stare was glassy. "I insist."
Samuel knocked his blocks over. "Daddy, look! Look!" It was too much. Grissom walked out of the office.
Sara picked up their little boy. "It's okay, baby," she soothed as his rosy lower lip started trembling. "Everything will be okay."
They didn't speak all the way home, and all through dinner. Rosalind was more than happy to pick up the slack; she chattered on about everything from the boy in her class who could stand on his head to how much she didn't like fishwich days in the cafeteria.
"Daddy," she said without stopping for a breath. "I got math homework tonight."
"I have," Grissom corrected her, his voice dull.
"Can you help me?"
He hesitated. "Why don't you get Mommy to help you tonight?"
Sara looked up from her efforts to get Samuel to eat one more bite of mashed potatoes. The look she gave him was one of sheer disappointment.
Clearing his throat, he stood up with his still-full plate. "I'll be in the study."
"Mommy," he heard Rosalind ask as he headed for the kitchen. "Why is Daddy mad at me?"
His study was dark and cool. Once inside, he sank into his leather chair and closed his eyes. The day would go down as one of the worst of his life, and he was ready for it to be over.
Ear infections were nothing new. Rosalind had come down a few of them when she was younger. But Samuel's never seemed to stop anymore. As soon as one cleared up, another one would build up. And then that morning…when they'd called his name and he hadn't even turned his head.
He hadn't been able to hear them.
Raw terror had paralyzed Grissom, and had yet to release him. They'd immediately called the doctor and gotten an appointment for that afternoon. Some leftover ear drops from his last infection had helped and Samuel had started responding to them again, but the damage had been done as far as Grissom was concerned.
The doctor could sugarcoat it all she wanted, but as far as he was concerned, this was all the proof he needed that his son had inherited his defect. His greatest fear had been realized. And the guilt was unbearable.
He had no idea how long he sat in the dark, but it must have been quite awhile. Light flooded the room all too suddenly, and he was forced to open his eyes.
Sara stood over him, her arms crossed. Her battle-stance. He was fairly familiar with it.
"Your daughter thinks you hate her and your son called for you for thirty minutes before he fell asleep. What is going on, Gil?"
"I'm in no mood to fight right now. Can we possibly postpone this?"
She opened her mouth to protest, but something must have changed her mind. "Oh baby…" Dropping to her knees in front of his chair, Sara pleaded with him. "Don't do this to yourself. It's not your fault."
Grissom shook his head because it was the only thing he could do to keep from losing it. "He got your eyes…and my ears."
Her hands were cool; she reached up and cupped his face between her palms, holding him steady. "Whatever you're feeling right now, it's not nearly as important as those two kids upstairs."
"Sara...what if there was a murder gene? And you passed it on to them." He paused. "How would you feel?"
She pulled back slightly. "When you're done wallowing, come to bed." Standing up, she walked to the door. "Don't expect me to be awake."
He spent some time in both children's rooms, watching them sleep. It took a lot for him to sit with Samuel. Fathers were supposed to protect, not endanger. He'd let his son down.
Eventually, Grissom found his way into the bedroom. Sara was already under the covers, her back facing the door.
He got ready for bed and slid in beside her. Her eyes were closed; her brow creased as though she were lost in a bad dream.
"Honey," he whispered. "I'm sorry. What I said…you know I didn't mean it."
She was awake, but apparently wasn't quite ready to say anything. She felt for his hand and laced her fingers through his.
Grissom looked down at their joined hands. "I'd give up my own hearing…if it meant he'd never have any trouble with his."
At this, Sara opened her eyes. "So would I."
Several minutes passed. "I keep thinking about the night we confirmed that you were pregnant with Rosalind."
"God, I was so mad at you." She smiled through the memory. "Our entire world was about to change, and all you could talk about was the discovery of some new species of beetle."
"Cockroach, actually. I was petrified." He paused. "I still am."
"I know. Me, too."
"Can we both be scared and still get through this?"
Sara lifted one shoulder. "I guess we'll find out. But honestly…I'm optimistic."
Grissom thought about this. "All right," he decided. "Then I will be, too." She gave him a look. "Hey, there's a first time for everything."
The surgery was scheduled for seven a.m. Better to get it over with early.
"Mama." Lying on the hospital gurney that was way too big for him, Samuel reached up for Sara. "Mama, wanna go home!"
All she could do was grasp his chubby little fingers and shake her head tightly.
On the other side of the bed, Grissom swallowed heavily. "Not yet, Sammy. Soon. After the doctor makes you all better."
"All bebber," the little boy repeated. His eyelids drooped significantly. "Daddy…all bebber."
"The anesthesia is kicking in," his father noted. "Finally."
Sara ran her tongue over her lower lip. "Just close your eyes, baby," she told Samuel. "When you wake up, Mommy and Daddy will be right here."
Samuel whimpered. It took another few minutes but he went out like a light.
"Dr. Grissom? Mrs. Grissom?" The surgeon they'd met earlier approached with an orderly. "It's time."
With fresh tears filling her eyes, Sara looked at her husband. His face was ashen, but unmoving. He stepped back and slipped his hands into his pockets. His detached stance. She was fairly familiar with it. Focusing on Samuel instead, Sara bent down to give his soft cheek a kiss.
The doctor turned to Grissom. "If you'll come with me, Dr. Grissom. We've arranged things so you'll be able to hold his hand during the procedure if you want."
"Thank you." His voice was hoarse.
With a nod from the surgeon, the orderly began pushing Samuel down the long, white hall. Sara shut her eyes, but couldn't clear away the image of her baby being taken away.
"Dr. Grissom?" she heard the surgeon say.
When she opened her eyes, her husband was watching her; he stood a few feet away, like he'd started to go with the doctor, but had stopped abruptly. Their eyes met for a moment.
"Dr. Grissom?" the surgeon repeated.
He continued to stare at her. "I appreciate you and your staff going out of your way," he told the man. "But I don't think I'll be going in."
The doctor nodded. "I understand. Have a seat then. I'll see you soon."
Once they were alone, Sara walked to him. She said nothing. She merely wrapped her arms around him, and drew him down to the bank of chairs. They held each for what seemed like a lifetime, but was probably only an hour.
A nurse approached them and gently tapped Sara's shoulder. "Mr. and Mrs. Grissom? Samuel's awake." She smiled. "And screaming for you both."
"25 percent chance."
Grissom looked up from the book he'd been reading to Samuel. Their little boy had fallen asleep a long time ago, and the only sound in the recovery room had been his quiet recitation of Peter Pan until Sara spoke.
At his puzzled look, she clarified, "If one parent has otosclerosis, there's only a 25 percent chance that a child of theirs will inherit it."
He lowered the book onto his lap. "You've done your research."
"When I was pregnant with Rosalind," Sara admitted. "I wish we could have done it together, but you never brought the subject up." She shook her head. "Even with your mother and teaching the kids to sign…there's still this big part of your past that you won't share with me."
"I don't mean to shut you out," Grissom said, marking his place and closing the book. "I only did back then because letting you in would have meant more than I was ready to handle at that point."
Sara inclined her head. "I get that. But someday, you're going to have to explain it to them. So they know…so they can be ready. In case they don't beat the odds."
He looked down at Samuel as he slept. His little chest rose and fell steadily. The only evidence of the surgery was the white bandages behind both of his ears. "If they don't…I'm glad I won't be around by the time they know. I don't want them to hate me."
"Do you hate your mother?" She waited for him to shake his head. "Exactly. And stop talking about not being around. Today's been hard enough."
"I'm not going anywhere just yet," he promised.
"I intend to hold you to that."
Grissom reached across their son to take her hand. "25 percent. That means there's a 75 percent chance that they'll always be as perfect as they are right now."
Sara smiled and squeezed his fingers. "I like a man who's optimistic."
To Be Continued