A/N: Another new chapter! Thank you for reading!

I Keep On Loving You

Chapter 18

There was no rest for Sara.

Events began to move forward with a swiftness that surprised everyone involved. Immediately after she signed a handwritten report of the incident, another nurse arrived with transfer orders. The orthopedic physicians insisted Sara return to the hospital for a body scan and x-rays to check for possible injuries.

By the time Grissom returned from the administrator's office, he barely had time to tell her of the conversation and promise he would pack her few belongings before meeting her at the hospital. Gracie was in the hallway watching as Sara was wheeled to the transport van and followed Grissom back into the room.

"Is she really leaving?" Gracie asked as she watched Grissom empty a bedside drawer. "Did you tell the administrator—about the stuff we found?"

Grissom motioned for the elderly woman to sit and briefly related most of what had been discussed in the administrator's office—he did not tell Gracie the history of David Lowry, saying the man would be gone in a few hours. He folded clothes and stuffed them into a bag, saying, "If things work out—if there is no injury—Sara will go home today, Gracie. It may take a few days to get rehab set up, but I'll take care of her."

"She needs to eat," Gracie said. "Can you cook? She's thin as a rail. Do you have someone who can cook for her?"

"I can cook," he answered as he opened drawers that were empty; thank goodness there wasn't much here, he thought.

"Write down your address—so I'll have it."

Grissom turned to the woman who used a walker and had wielded a cane in Sara's defense. He found a scrap of paper and wrote the address and phone numbers for her. "Do you drive, Gracie? Or did you drive?"

"I did—still have my car—but not sure when I'll start driving again." She shrugged, adding, "I think I can drive tomorrow—as soon as I get free of this place!"

Quietly chuckling, Grissom said, "Call me and I'll come and get you. Sara enjoys your company." He sat on the edge of the bed, adding, "I'm taking the packets you found to the crime lab. It will be several days before they get results, but I think you've found the cause of these deaths." His eyes narrowed; he asked, "What did you do before retirement?"

Gracie smiled, "I was a librarian—for a long time I worked in a law office library and then I worked in the public library. I liked that much better."

Rising from the bed, he extended his hand. "Thank you, Gracie—for keeping my wife entertained—and for protecting her in a situation that could have had a very different ending."

Taking his hand, Gracie stood, smiling and said, "You're trying to cheer me up."

"Yep," he said jauntily and with a wink. "Now let me walk you back to your room and do whatever has to be done for an official discharge from this place."

Hours later, Sara was wheeled into a hospital transport van for the quick ride to her house. She had been x-rayed, scanned, examined, and asked a hundred questions by the physicians and the nurses. She had asked a few pointed and personal questions about her condition and progress—several questions actually got a smile from the physician who kept promising that she was recovering ahead of schedule and in six months all of this would be a faint memory.

As the van pulled carefully between several cars in the driveway, Sara knew instantly how so many people had heard she was going home; from the number of cars in the street and driveway, a crowd of people had descended to her house. Most of them seemed to have arrived with bunches of flowers and pots of plants, bags of groceries and plastic bowls of food. It was as if the entire lab had heard of her unexpected homecoming—and half of them had decided to visit at the same time.

In addition, two technicians from a health equipment service were there to outfit her bed and bath with "assistive" equipment that included a lightweight folding wheelchair.

As she was wheeled from the transport van and through the house, everyone was talking at once, welcoming her home, hugging her as a long-lost sailor. Both dogs were barking. Jim Brass and Lou Vartann were standing in the foyer, holding doors open as equipment was hauled inside. D.B's wife, Greg and Morgan were working in the kitchen doing something with food. Nick was helping the guy with the over bed trapeze set-up. Grissom, following the van, was the last one to come in and was greeting everyone with hugs and hand-shakes like a politician in a tight race.

Sara was happy to see everyone—a little overwhelmed by all the commotion, especially when she needed the bathroom in the worse way; exhaustion shrouded her body and all the noise caused her head to ache. The two people from the transport van made a path and finally transferred her to the bed and then she heard Catherine's voice coming from the bathroom. Something about Catherine being in her bathroom—with the door open—caused an unexpected emotional response in Sara.

Everyone was being so cheery as they followed her into the bedroom with good-humored and well-meaning comments, yet as Sara tried to settle on the bed, breathless and tired, her emotions bubbled to the surface; tears formed and spilled from her eyes. Barbara Russell was the first to notice and took charge.

"Everyone out! Out! Sara's been through a lot and doesn't need a gaggle of geese quacking over her after all this!"

The dogs jumped onto the bed, squirming and snuggling next to Sara.

Immediately, everyone left, again with good-spirited words—except for Grissom and Catherine, who appeared in the doorway of the bathroom wearing slim-cut jeans and a tight fitting, sleeveless tank top. Sara's confusion was somewhat cleared when Catherine said, "I'm not leaving until this guy is finished!"

She walked over to Sara's bedside with a box of tissues. Nodding in the direction of the kitchen, she said to Grissom, "Go take care of your guests. I'll take care of Sara." Handing tissues to Sara, she continued, "You're getting a bidet installed in the bathroom, dear. The man works for Sam's casinos so I stole him for the day. We thought we'd have more notice of your homecoming so we had to get busy!"

Sara wiped her eyes, but tears seemed unstoppable. "Sorry," she said as she blew her nose, "I—I think I'm tired—so much has happened today." She sniffed; a puzzling frown furrowed her forehead. "A bidet? How?"

Taking extra pillows and placing them under Sara's head, Catherine explained, "It's built into the seat—you can work it with one finger—and once you get use to one, you'll decide it's the best thing since—since learning about tampons! We had them installed in half the rooms in the hotel and guests love them." With a giggle, she said, "It will clean you in places you didn't know needed cleaning!" She stood back and observed Sara for a long minute. "Girl, you have a way to go, don't you? Gil told me about Dr. Dave—good grief—how does someone like that get out of jail?

"And he thinks you figured out what caused the men to die in rehab! Caffeine! Who would have thought of that one?" Hands on hips, she looked around the bedroom; she frowned. "Is Gil up to this?"

Just as hearing Catherine's voice earlier, the question caused more tears to gather in Sara's eyes. "I don't know," she whispered. Using her hand, she wiped her eyes. Again, whispering, she said, "I—I wanted to come home so bad—to sleep in my bed—I haven't told anyone, but I haven't been sleeping well—and I don't want to take a pill to sleep—and then that guy came into the room. It was horrible, Catherine! I—I was helpless to get him off me! And poor Gracie—she was trying as hard as she could, but he just—it felt like he was all over me."

Catherine sat down on the edge of the bed. "Sara—Grissom said you were fine." Worriedly, she took Sara's hand, asking, "Do you need to—to get checked out? I mean—was there a—a sexual assault?"

A weak smile crossed Sara's face. "No—no, he fell on the bed—on top of me, but he didn't do anything but wail once Gracie started beating him with her cane." She sighed, wiping her eyes again. "Sorry—I'm happy to be home—just a bit overwhelmed, maybe."

Catherine remained on the bed for several minutes, finally asking, "How would you like a shower? One of those guys with all the equipment put a bench in your shower and that plumber should be finished with the bidet pretty soon." She patted Sara's hand. "You still drink tea? What about a cup of tea and a sandwich?"

Sara nodded.

"And then," Catherine added, "we'll see what it takes to get a shower." Seriously, she asked, "Did you not get a shower—after—after…?"

Shaking her head, Sara said, "It all happened so fast—I barely had time to say goodbye to Gracie before I was out the door." She wiped her face. "Tea and a sandwich would be great—thanks. And a shower would be even better. I hate to be a wet blanket for a party but I don't think I can enjoy much company."

Again, Catherine patted her hand. "Don't worry about a party. Everyone wanted to help get you back home. Morgan and Greg brought food and got Lou and Jim to help. Barbara pitched in. Nick brought the dogs home. I came with a plumber—we didn't plan on a party."

A quiet clearing of a throat caused both women to look at the bathroom door. "This is all ready—if you'd like to give it a try." The big plumber, wearing a spotless white shirt, filled the doorway.

Sara wondered how a man could stay so clean while working in the bathroom before she realized he carried a blue coverall over one arm.

"I really could use the bathroom," she said. "But it takes a while to get there."

Catherine waved the man toward the bedroom door. "Wait for me out front while we check things out. And ask someone in the kitchen to fix Sara a sandwich and tea, please."

"I'll need the wheelchair, Catherine."

Instead of getting the wheelchair, Catherine called for help, getting Grissom, Nick, Greg, and Brass at once.

"I can get myself into the chair, guys, and then I can handle the bathroom by myself," Sara said as the men gathered around her bed. "I need to do this with minimum help."

Greg rolled the wheelchair into the room; Nick brought the slide board and fitted it onto the chair and bed. The three men stayed in the bedroom, standing around the bed.

"Okay—everyone out but Gil, please," she asked. At their looks of concern, she added, "If you hear a crash, come running."

She had managed this routine move dozens of times and kept a smile on her face as she slid from bed to chair. Grissom pushed her into the bathroom as they tried to figure out a way to make it easier. Both examined the square box attached to the wall and the new seat before she shifted from wheelchair to toilet and both laughed as she pressed an icon for adjusting temperature.

"Catherine says we will love using this thing," Sara said as she finished. She pressed another symbol for water and giggled as a gentle spray covered her bottom. A few seconds later, a breeze of warm air dried her skin. She looked at Grissom, all traces of tears gone, giggled, and said, "Well, I might get a thrill out of this but nothing like what I remember getting from you."

Neither could hold back laughter.

Finally, Grissom said, "Oh, Sara, I'm so sorry this happened to you—I'm sorry I wasn't here for you. But because it did, I'm home—and I've realized how much I've missed by staying away." He placed his hand under her chin and tenderly covered her mouth with his. After kissing her in the gentlest way imaginable, he added, "I promise you will not have to use a bidet for a pleasure—promise."

He kissed her again, much longer than before, releasing her and saying, "We still have a house filled with people. I guess we should tell the plumber this works and the rest of them can—I don't know—what should we tell them?"

Sara formed a quizzical smile; her eyebrows lifted as she said, "To go home and come back another day?"

"You need to eat."

Nodding, Sara pulled her pants up with Grissom's assistance and then managed to complete the maneuver back to the wheelchair. "A few more days and I'll be able to do all of this will less help," she said.

Grissom grinned. "It doesn't matter if its a few days or a few weeks—we'll get there." He inspected the newly installed bidet seat again. "Only Catherine would think of this," he chuckled.

But Catherine was not the only friend who recognized Sara had special needs. Greg had prepared several foods he knew Sara loved and instead of a sandwich and tea, he had a black bean burger ready for her, topped with avocado, tomato, and cheese, along with a fruit and nut salad from her favorite vegetarian restaurant.

"More in the refrigerator," he said. "You've got enough food for two days and someone will be over tomorrow with more food."

"And a cheesecake," Morgan added, "Vegetarian—soy milk and chocolate."

Already chewing on the burger, Sara declared, between bites, it was the most delicious food she had eaten in days.

An hour later, Sara and Grissom were finally alone, a dog curled in each lap.

"You should be in bed."

Sara nodded, saying, "I'm so tired I don't think I can sleep. And I need a shower, Gil. I—I can still smell that old creep on me." She grimaced, "I know it's a lot to ask…" Her voice trailed off.

Grissom got up, dog in his arms, kissed her forehead, and said, "I know exactly what to do—give me a few minutes and I'll be back."

In a few minutes, Sara heard him moving around in the bedroom; a few minutes later, she heard the clothes dryer running. In ten minutes, Grissom was back.

He pushed her into the bedroom. "I have had a verbal lesson in how to give a bed bath."

The bed covers were folded back; several thick towels were spread on the bed. A lightly-scented steaming bowl was beside the bed.

Sara grinned. "Are you sure about this?"

For an answer, Grissom lifted her from the chair and placed her on the towels. In several swift motions, he had her pants removed, her top off, and placed a warm towel over her body. From a stack of washcloths, he took one, wet it in the bowl, and begin washing her body starting with her shoulders.

Seeing her smile, he said, "I have a special cleaner for your face—according to Dona, no woman likes soap and water on her face."

As he gently rolled her to wash her back, Sara said, "Now I know your teacher."

"Yes, she is. I called her about the caffeine—Rhonda, too—so both got a heads up on what you found." He lifted her leg and washed her thigh. He grinned, leaned over and kissed her knee. "I learned what to wash first and last."

Always keeping a warm towel wrapped around her, he slowly cleaned her leg, her foot, toes on both feet before leaving for another bowl of warm water. With this, he carefully washed the apex of her thighs, and in an extreme act of intimacy, cleaned her feminine folds as no one had done since she was an infant.

A spontaneous groan came from Sara.

Grissom removed his hand. "This is not to be sexual, Sara." His voice was edged with gentleness.

Softly, Sara laughed. "I know—got the three minute lecture today when I asked—no sex for two months." She laughed again. "I need a calendar."

She heard his laughter as he left the bed and brought her a clean shirt and pants for sleeping. After she was dressed and tucked between covers, he said, "I'll be back shortly—sleep—you have to be exhausted." Leaning over, he kissed her lightly on the lips.

Sara frowned when he pulled away after a few seconds. She said, "Kiss me again—like you mean it." Her hand went to his face.

Leaning forward again, he captured her mouth, kissing her with a force he had been saving for days. Sara wrapped her arm around his neck and kissed him back.

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