A/N: Thanks for reading!
An Unusual Sequence of Events
Chapter 8
A delightful consequence
Surprising herself most of all, Sara demonstrated a surprising aptitude for pregnancy. As her abdomen swelled, she found her body bloomed and her mind seemed to move into another dimension. She could count the times she had been physically sick on one hand and now, other than a few nauseous moments, and certain circumstances—certain smells—brought on vomiting, she experienced none of the usual discomforts of early pregnancy. If anything, there were more positive effects than negative ones; she slept soundly, she was actually hungry when it was time to eat. And the sex drive that had overtaken her before pregnancy lingered. All she had to do was think of sex with her husband and her panties were damp; secretly, she had thought about sex with other men just to see if she was turning into some kind of fictional sex fiend, but her thoughts had no physical effect. Her body desired one man.
Even more, Grissom's reaction to her pregnancy was simply amazing. He had professed willingness for fatherhood before the fact—many men did that. And after it became fact, he read voraciously including a best-selling pregnancy book which he tucked in the bag he took everywhere. He went with her to every appointment, dreadfully unaware of what actually went on inside an obstetrical examining room, but neither shy nor inhibited, he quickly learned. And his affectionate responses warmed Sara, tapped into a desire that was returned with complete passion.
As soon as the physician decided it was safe, barely three months into the pregnancy, in a different, sterile-appearing procedure room, with more equipment than the usual exam room, Grissom attempted to keep his nervousness from showing as he stood against a wall and watched preparations for a procedure that would reveal much.
"A girl," he silently prayed, "please let our baby be a girl." Gil Grissom did not often pray but today he did. A daughter to keep her company when he was gone, he added to his heavenly request. He wasn't asking for a long life; he had come to terms with that issue before they ever married. "A healthy girl," was his very private prayer.
He kept his private mantra running through his mind as he watched. Sara was stretched on the exam table chatting with the women in the room, her physician, one prepping her belly for an amniocentesis, another doing some other check. Already they had heard the fluttering steady beat of the baby's heart. They had seen ultrasound images that revealed everything—feet, fingers, two legs, two arms, a perfect spine, a tiny little nose—but nothing to indicate gender.
"Shy little one," the physician said with a laugh as she had studied the image of little baby Grissom.
They had announced the pregnancy to only one other; not yet, Sara insisted. "We will keep this secret until we are sure—no reason to share until we know it's safe."
The exception was Grissom's mother; Sara had announced it to Betty; signing "Are you ready to be a grandmother?" For a moment, his mother's eyes had widened and then a smile split across her face. He was almost positive his mother had kept the smile since that day.
He was jerked back from his remembrances by his wife's voice. "Yes, he's staying" and everyone in the room shifted and made a space; one handing him a surgical mask and gown while the doctor instructed him to keep his hands underneath the sheet or in his lap.
"Hold my hand, Gil," Sara suggested.
As soon as he had the gown on, he took her hand in both of his, leaning to kiss her forehead as he took a seat on a rolling stool. Weeks ago, he had decided the medical side of baby-making belonged to women. They moved in and out of the exam rooms as easily as wind blew leaves. They talked in medical abbreviations and discussed anatomy in terms that left him confused—and he thought he knew scientific names for every part of the human body-much of what was said was new and foreign to his ears.
As the doctor and two women talked in hushed voices, Grissom prayed again for a girl child. He knew about boys—he had been one—girls had to be better children. Girls were clean, cute, and cuddly, and loved their mothers. Mothers could depend on daughters and daughters took care of their mothers. So unlike boys—he was so deep in his thoughts, he did not realize someone had said something.
The procedure was finished—quickly, he thought as he looked up to see the nurse and the physician smiling. The doctor had the ultrasound transducer in her hand and was slowly moving it in circles, watching the screen.
"Are you sure you want to know? I think this baby is ready to reveal!" She quickly clicked the image on screen.
Immediately, almost together, Sara and Grissom said "Yes!" Then they both laughed.
The doctor kept moving the hand held device, watching the screen. A minute later, she said "Yes! That's it! Have you got a name picked out?"
"No," Sara quietly said.
Laughing, the physician pointed to the screen. "She needs a name! Look at that!"
"Yes!" The loud exclamation came so quickly out of Grissom's mouth that in ordinary circumstances he would have been embarrassed. "A girl!" A smile spread across his face; he looked at Sara who was also smiling. "A daughter—a little girl!" He kissed her again, adding, "Just like her mom!"
Later, Sara teased him about his continuing smile which seemed to grow wider at the mention of the word "daughter".
He said, "We're going to have a daughter, Sara." He actually made a sound very nearly a giggle. "A little girl who will look like you!" When she gave him an amusing glance, he continued, "She'll be sweet like you—smart—love her daddy." With more relief than he could express, he said, "I'm delighted we're having a girl." Silently, he thanked God.
Patiently and uncomplainingly, Sara waited as days, and then weeks passed. By the end of her fourth month, and after good results from all the tests, she knew it was time to share their news. Most of the time pregnancy agreed with her, enhanced her beauty, and when she announced it, Nick, Greg, Dave, and D.B. had already guessed—or claimed to have.
"How did you know?" Sara asked Greg an hour after she had made her public announcement and he and Nick had quietly whispered they suspected something was "up".
Greg's mischievous grin mimicked a Cheshire cat. "Grissom's home—to stay! What made you think we wouldn't figure it out?"
Nick, standing across the table, sniggered.
"What?" Sara demanded.
Nick straightened his face, trying to appear serious, looking to Greg for back-up. Greg kept his face down, trying without success to suppress his laughter.
"What is so funny?" Sara questioned a second time. She reached across the table and pulled several papers away from Nick's view. "Tell or I'm keeping everything."
Nick glanced at Greg again. "You were puking in the morgue—twice—weeks ago. Well, Super Dave heard you and told us. How many times have you done that? In all the years—I know one time—and then you didn't act sick." He did an exaggerated shrug of his shoulders and in a voice playful and teasing said, "We are investigators—we can put together the evidence!"
He would never reveal a closely guarded secret among a number of men in the lab—a growing pool of cash—betting when Sara Sidle Grissom would get knocked up by the old guy she married. Neither Nick nor Greg would ever tell Sara of the bets made and the amount of money won by Lou Vartann and David Hodges, of all people.
Easily, Sara grew into her second trimester. If she worried, it was not apparent. If she was apprehensive, she did not voice it. Those who had worked with her for longer than a decade expressed amazement in the first weeks of learning Sara was pregnant, but then most realized Sara had been mothering for years as she went about her work without expecting special favors or expressing a need for anything out of the ordinary. And she was so unruffled by all the excitement generated by her pregnancy, she was usually unaware of the quiet way her supervisor assigned cases. After one brutally bloody case, she did not reject D.B.'s offer to handle more paperwork, quietly grateful he understood her circumstances without making a big issue of her pregnancy. Gradually, without calling attention to herself, she reduced her hours yet remained on a regular schedule.
Grissom was anxious and made no effort to hide it; he talked with anyone who had ever had children and wasn't afraid to ask dozens of questions. The men laughed; the women thought he was sweet. The nurses at the physician's office patted his shoulder and smiled. The men told him everything would work out—it usually did. The women suggested he tend to his research, his book, and cook dinner for his pregnant wife. The nurses liked him; the physician gave him books to read.
And Grissom loved watching Sara, loved watching her face, loved running his hands over her growing abdomen, loved making love to her in a sweet, gentle way, caressing every part of her body. They were well suited to this life, he thought, often wondering why they had waited so many years for this. Working fewer hours gave Sara more daylight hours so she often rode with him when he went to the research station, and then she'd sleep in the shade while he checked the pond and made notes.
Slowly their office became a nursery—for every frilly pink ruffle he picked up, Sara shook her head and selected practical—a crib, a rocking chair, a small dresser, a few gowns and sleepers. His mother was a model of restraint, backing up Sara's decision, both women saying "a baby doesn't need much." But when Catherine arrived bearing gifts, Sara stood in open-mouth awe as blankets, gowns, lacy caps, sleepers, and tiny shoes and socks in soft pastel colors soon covered every surface.
"This is too much, Catherine!" Sara exclaimed as Catherine kept pulling exquisite items from a very large shopping bag.
Grissom watched the two women and grinned. He knew Catherine—she never asked, she acted. When she learned their baby was a girl, she had said, "I love to shop!" From the looks of things, she had shopped at every baby store between Miami and Seattle with detours east and west.
Weeks went by with surprising swiftness; five weeks before her due date, Sara left her shift for the last time. The lab crew and an unexpected number of law enforcement officers showed up to celebrate her last night; everyone had contributed to the expensive jogging stroller sitting in the break room and Lou and David had used their hard-won cash to make sure it was a top-line model with all the extras.
A week later, Grissom flew to San Diego for his first conference to promote his book. He was excited, yet apprehensive—he hated to leave Sara.
"I'll be fine," she insisted. "You're home in two days. Catherine is here—ten minutes away—and little Isabella isn't due for four weeks."
He grinned; Isabella, the name of his grandmother, and a variation of his own mother's name. Betty Grissom was flying on a cloud; she had almost lost hope of ever becoming a grandparent and now she would soon have a granddaughter. Every day, she arrived to 'help' Sara. The uneasiness between the two women had disappeared—Grissom wasn't sure when it had happened, but by the time Sara shared her desire for a baby, his wife and his mother were friends. Now they spent hours talking about everything; months ago, Sara's signing had become second nature and he frequently heard them giggling like school girls over something.
Reluctant yet excited, he landed in San Diego and headed to the downtown hotel.
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