A/N: Another new story! Thanks for reading! A special thank you to those who review-help us keep GSR alive and well in fanfiction!
After Effects
Chapter 8
Sara heard the clamor of the arrivals as she placed vegetables in the oven for roasting; Bronwyn tossed the salad she'd been making casting eyes to her mother.
"Go on," Sara said with a nod. "Everything will be ready in fifteen minutes."
The cheerful sounds of all four children reached her ears as she added pasta to water. With frequent interruptions, they related the day's experiences in joyous ways Sara had never experienced as a teenager—a period of her life she'd almost forgotten.
Smiling, she finished preparations for dinner for her hungry family. At one time, she'd thought she could not cook but as her family had grown, she had learned that cooking was eighty percent chemistry—and the rest had been an easy learning curve for her.
When the children were small, meals had been established as a family gathering to eat what was prepared and, as a result, they had developed a willingness to try any food, had good appetites, and were mostly vegetarians. And, over the years, she and Grissom had become good cooks. Tonight's creamy mushroom stir fry over pasta and roasted vegetables along with wilted greens and olive salad would bring enthusiastic compliments from all.
A few minutes later, Cate and Bronwyn were playing the piano together, an old movie melody with the older girl playing the more complicated keys while Bronwyn played with two fingers. It was amazing how beautiful Cate played, Sara thought, when anything else she did was lacking in physical grace.
Suddenly, before she could turn, her sons were around her, placing twin kisses on her cheeks. They were tall, so handsome it took her breath to realize she and her husband had produced such perfection—twice. When the boys had been thirteen, Jay still looked like a child while Gregory's sudden growth spurt put him a head taller than his twin. That had lasted for a year.
Now, Jay's appearance was deceptive with the curly hair so similar to his father's; not as tall as his brother but surprisingly strong with the physical endurance to run ahead of his cross-country team in every race of the year. He was the quietest of their children—serene, Sara thought—or gave that impression to those not close to him. His family knew when he spoke, he had well-thought his words.
Gregory, in contrast, had the look of an athlete, sun-touched skin, and long curling dark hair worn in a ponytail. From his mother, he'd inherited his eyes, his long bones that gave him an elegance of movement, the love of learning, and a somewhat rebelliousness that occasionally had to be checked by both parents.
Both boys had a playful charm that girls noticed and was curbed by their two sisters. And, most importantly, the children had a special relationship, a bond that meant whatever happened to one was grieved or celebrated by all. Sara often referred to it as "The Three Musketeers" with Bronwyn as d'Artagnan, tagging along sometimes, leader of the pack at other times. She also knew they covered for each other whenever possible, never doubting there were schemes and conspiracies done without her knowledge, kept quiet by all four.
All of their children were affectionate and respectful; never a problem at school or with teachers, too involved in learning to be interested in drugs. The boys had been accepted by an oceanographic research group to work as summer interns, and, as much as Sara hated to see her sons absent for two months, she knew it was time for them to work with someone other than their parents.
After a few minutes of good-natured bantering, and hearing "fifteen minutes until dinner", the boys thundered upstairs for showers after their soccer practice.
Sara walked to the deck as another piano duet filled the air. To Grissom and Jim Brass, she said, "There's wine in the kitchen."
Neither man needed encouragement to follow her.
As the piano composition became more complex, Grissom got wine glasses from the cabinet and said, "It's amazing how that girl makes so much noise walking across the floor yet plays such beautiful music."
Brass chuckled and lifted the bottle of wine, saying, "To beautiful music!"
Jim Brass was a permanent part of the family now; he knew where the wine opener was kept; he knew what kind of wine to buy. He knew how much to pour for each of them. He had been affectionately named 'Papa Jim' by one of the twins when the boys learned to talk. And when the Grissom's had decided to move, Jim, with no close relatives of his own, was included. A garage on the property had been renovated and modernized into the perfect house for the man who was loved by every member of the Grissom family.
In his new life, Jim Brass became a stand-in grandparent who doted on the two girls who, in his eyes, could do no wrong, and was the affectionate, fun-loving old pal and pirate, coach and cohort to the boys. While their father taught them about whales and turtles, climate and environmental causes, Brass educated them on the use of hammers, saws, drills, and garden tools as they installed benches, planted flowers, hung bird feeders, and spent endless hours searching for 'good deals' for everything from sports equipment to boat parts.
"Bowls and plates tonight," Sara said as Grissom opened another cabinet. In a hushed voice, she added, "Brag on the salad—Bronwyn's making."
Grissom passed bowls and plates to Jim and opened a drawer for flatware and napkins.
"Bronwyn is going to outshine all of them," Jim said. "She's learning from the others—has a brain like a sponge."
Sara, draining pasta, leaned to his ear and whispered, "She picked up a slur word from one of her friends today—used it in the car and I blew up."
Shaking his head, Jim started placing bowls and plates around the table as the boys appeared, stepping in to help as the two men backed away.
Throughout the meal, Sara listened and marveled at the wonderful life they had, knowing so many were less fortunate. Her beautiful daughters held their own in conversations with their brothers, their father, and Jim. Cate's good natured challenge of the intention of one of their current books had caused a boisterous rebuttal from Jay, backed by Gregory who finally admitted that he had not read the complete book.
Grissom laughed; Jim and Bronwyn had their own quiet conversation going. Across the table, Sara's eyes met her husband's in a fleeting glance as he joined the discussion about the intent of the book. Her son's eyes, she thought.
In a second, the atmosphere at the table changed; she had missed something while daydreaming, Sara thought. The boys looked at Bronwyn; Grissom's fork stopped on the way to his mouth. Cate coughed, a fake sound, Sara knew, in an obvious effort to send a message to her sister.
"What?" The young girl looked at her brothers, then at her father. "All I said was 'she hid it in her vagina'—not like you haven't heard that word before!"
Sara's eyes widened as she asked, "What exactly are we talking about?"
Jim's head had dropped; she could see he was biting his lip to avoid a laugh.
The four others at the table stared. Sara caught a slight movement from one of the boys; another attempt to send a message, she thought.
"Okay—what was hidden and how do you know about it?" She asked.
Jim passed a hand across his face, lifting his head with a poker face in place.
"Bronwyn," Grissom said, "answer your mother, please."
The child stirred her pasta before replying. "A girl in ninth grade got arrested—only it's not a real arrest, just taken to juvie, when she got caught shop lifting. And then they found out she'd hidden an expensive watch in her vagina!" She made a face, adding, "Can you believe? Somebody will buy that watch and never know where it's been!"
"That is not a true story, Bron," Jay said.
"Yes, it is! Ethan told me it was true!"
Sara asked, "Is this the same Ethan? And why would he know this?"
Bronwyn nodded, saying, "He's in my classes—he's kinda cute."
Sara's eyes remained on her daughter even as she heard two sounds from her sons, a clearing of one's throat and another cough.
Continuing without a glance toward either brother, the girl said, "His dad works for the sheriff and he knows a lot of stuff—about—about crime and things. So he knows it's true."
Another cough caused Sara to look at her older children. She said, "Okay, what's going on? Obviously, others at this table are trying to send a message—so what's going on?"
Silence followed until she said, "There's a delicious dessert waiting—but I know four people who won't get one bite until…"
The boys looked at each other, then at Cate before nodding at their younger sister.
Gregory said, "You might as well tell everything—and don't forget, we told you not to listen to this kid. He's going to be in trouble!"
Bronwyn made a face at her brother before turning to her mother. She said, "Ethan is smart—I don't think he's the smartest person in my grade, but he knows a lot about computers. And—and he sort of looks at stuff his dad has on his computer—work stuff."
"Sort of?" This came from Grissom.
Bronwyn's bright eyes shot a look across the table. "He—he just checks what his dad does—looks at notes about crimes. Doesn't change anything—and he doesn't tell everyone." She smiled, looking back and forth at her parents. "He found out all about you guys! What you did in Las Vegas a long time ago! He says you solved a lot of cases and one of them was called 'The Miniature Killer'! About this woman who made models of her crimes—like doll houses. He even found photos of them—one was in a chicken factory." She looked at Sara, asking, "Is that what made you a vegetarian?"
Sara had to make herself take a breath.
Grissom sighed, placed his fork beside his plate, and said, "That happened a long time ago, honey. We can talk about it if you want. And your friend could get in serious trouble—his dad could lose his job. Can you tell him this tomorrow? You can't be his friend if he's going to break the law—do you understand why?"
"Well, he was just…"
"No, Bronwyn. If you can't tell him what he's doing is wrong, I'll need to talk to his father. Can you tell him that?"
She almost shrugged her shoulders but stopped in mid-movement. "I can tell him—that doesn't mean he will stop looking."
Grissom picked up his fork, saying, "I think he will. He seems to want to be your friend." He looked at Sara who had returned to eating. "If you'd like, invite him to come here. He might enjoy meeting a couple of people who were involved in that case with the models."
Bronwyn perked up as she recognized a shift in conversation. She said, "He'd love that! He says Mom was kidnapped by the crazy woman and left to die and then she—the woman who did it—she killed herself! Did you know that?"
Her wide blue eyes looked around the table at the five people looking at her with unwavering attention. Brass reached over, placing a hand on her arm.
He said, "If it is okay with your parents, I'll tell you all about this miniature case." With a glance at Sara, he winked, adding, "Your mom and dad have probably forgotten a lot of it, but ole Papa Jim has a mind like a steel trap—nothing is ever lost."
With a smile, Sara nodded. "Tell them all of it—but after dessert."
Grissom and Sara cleaned up after Jim waved the kids to the deck. Occasionally, they could hear his animated story as he related details of the decades-old investigation.
"He's spending a lot of time describing those models," Sara whispered.
"That's good—they don't need to know details of the murders—or of your experience." Grissom kissed her before wiping the table.
"It seems like another person's life—so long ago."
He chuckled. "What do we do about Ethan?"
"He's the one who used the slur—according to Bronwyn. And now he's hacking into his father's work and telling what he finds." Sara shook her head, placing hands on hips, as she said, "Do you think it's true? The part about hiding the watch?"
Almost an hour passed before Grissom took the remaining wine to the deck; Sara followed with glasses and water which she poured into four glasses. After filling three glasses with wine, Grissom splashed a few drops of wine into the glasses of water before passing these to his children.
Brass had wrapped up the telling of the miniature killer investigation and was answering questions, mostly about the details of the models.
Seeing their interest, Grissom said, "You should read about Frances Glessner Lee—the mother of forensic investigation. She made miniature rooms of actual murder scenes. People studied them for years—probably still do."
As the sky darkened, the family continued talking about a time before the children were born until Sara reminded them of homework and preparations for bed. Cate immediately remembered an assignment; her quick departure caused both parents to think the assignment was more likely one of her own making. One of the boys asked about a snack, seconded by the other, and both disappeared into the kitchen.
Grissom pulled his youngest onto the chair beside him. He said, "Remember what we said about Ethan. If he wants to be your friend, he has to stop looking at his dad's work."
She nodded, saying, "He's not a bad guy—really."
Sara moved over and sat on the arm of the chair, saying, "Ask him if he'd like to visit—his parents can call or let the school know that I'll pick him up after school."
Bronwyn brightened, saying, "Not like a play-date. We're too old for that."
"No, not a play-date," Sara said, smiling as she gave her daughter a pat on the shoulder. "Now—time to get ready for bed." She kissed the top of Bronwyn's head, lingering longer than necessary to enjoy the sweet smell of childhood.
As the child left, Brass yawned and pointed west. "I'm headed there—my bed waits."
Grissom and Sara watched as he ambled along a gravel path, waving right before he disappeared around a low-spreading tree. A minute later they heard the door click shut.
For a while, they sat in companionable silence; Sara had fitted into the space left by Bronwyn. Finally, Grissom asked if she'd like tea or coffee.
"If I drink coffee this late, I'll be awake for hours—so will you."
He knew that was not the truth. His wife could drink coffee and be asleep in fifteen minutes. With a grin, he said, "We can try to keep each other awake!" Quickly, he moved his eyebrows up and down.
Leaning to him, she kissed him before pushing out of the chair, turning to take his hand in hers.
Even after all the years together, he knew she blushed as she said, "I don't need coffee for that."
A/N: This story is coming to its end with one or two more chapters-probably after the upcoming holiday. We appreciate all of you who give us encouragement with your words! And we'd love to hear from you!
