Smoldering Desires

Agape Retreat Center


Brass eyed Sara’s protruding stomach.

“You are pregnant.” He said.

“No one can question your powers of observation. That’s why your solve rate is so high.”

“How did I not know this?” Brass nearly shouted, causing the baby to stir aggressively.

Sara patted her belly. “It’s alright, Sunshine. Uncle Jim is generally cranky. No reflection on you.”

“How pregnant are you, for Christ’s sake?”

“Twenty three weeks,” Sara said proudly. “I thought you knew.”

“Cath and Greg call and say they are checking you in. I get a couple of progress reports that say you are gaining weight and your therapy is going great. No one says you are having a baby.”

Sara sat next to Brass on a wicker couch. “Are you sure, Brass? I can’t imagine that they left that part out.”

Brass turned his head and looked at Sara’s clear bright eyes. Sara was going to be alright. She was nearly herself again, stitching together information at the speed of life.

“You know what, Cookie? They probably did tell me. My brain can only handle so much. Gris is missing. You are in this place. It’s like….”

He looked sheepish for a moment. “If you tell him I said this I’ll kill you. It’s like my daughter and my best friend got married and then it all fell apart.”

Sara smiled and stuck a finger into Brass’ side and spoke to her belly. “See, Sunshine, Uncle Brass is really a big teddy bear.”

“Yeah well I never knew if I wanted you to end up with Gris.”

“You didn’t?”

“No. He’s nearly my age and you…”

“Are not,” she interjected, suddenly sad at the mention of her missing lover’s name.

“He’s also difficult, crotchety, stubborn and too old for a baby.”

Sara laughed softly. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

Brass ran a hand over his hair. This complicated things beyond anything he had anticipated. If he told March, March would tell Gil. A baby would send him flying back to Vegas with no regard for his own health.

“What’s going to happen when he comes back, Sara?”

“I don’t know. I try not to get my hopes up. He may never come back.” She rested her hands on her belly.

“Don’t bet on it. He loves you, Cookie.”

“I know,” she admitted. “I know his excuses are just fabricated. I am not sure why. I know you guys think he’s sick and maybe you are right. I just don’t want my little girl to grow up without a father like I did. “

Brass put an arm around her shoulder. “No matter what, this kid is going to have a bunch of fathers. Oddball, strange but loving fathers. With this bunch she may never date.”

He kissed her forehead.

“That’s fine by me,” Sara said. “Dating is overrated.”

It was another meeting at Brass’ house. This time it was only Catherine. The rest had been kept apprised of the situation and agreed to abide by whatever Brass and Catherine decided.

“So if we tell March, Gil will come flying out here like a bat out of hell,” Catherine said

“Exactly,” Brass replied, thoroughly convinced that he knew what Gil’s response would be.

“If he finds out that we knew how to find him and didn’t, he’s going to kill us.”

“True. But he’ll still be alive and you, at least should be able to out run him.”

Catherine laughed. Their lives straddled the line between Shakespearean comedy and Greek tragedy.

“Here’s what I think,” Catherine started. “I think we talk to Sara’s doctors and see what her recovery time frame is. She’s not in a life or death situation. Once we figure that out, we bring Sara to where he is. It’s better to have her there with him. They should be together. Even if they have only one more day.”

Brass let out a heavy, deep sigh. “We should elect a woman president. You are so much smarter than we men are. I’ll call March in the morning.


Dr. Peprah smiled warmly and Sara returned her own gap toothed smile which faded at the doctor’s next words.

“You don’t have to talk about your father today. But you do have to talk about it one day, dearest.”

Sara rubbed her baby.

“I want to get this over with before my baby comes.”

“Today will be a good start. But the kind of trauma you experienced will take more than a few sessions to work through.”

“Okay,” Sara said weakly.

“Start wherever you want to.”

“My dad never loved me. I know that now. He never loved me. I had a friend named Marsha. Her father took her to school everyday. He went to all her spelling bees. He hired a clown for her birthday.”

“And your father?” Dr. Peprah prompted.

“It was like I wasn’t there. I was sort of like a neglected pet. He hit my mother, but he just pretended I didn’t exist. Maybe it wasn’t a pretense. He hardly called my name. He never gave me a bath or took me to the park. When people asked him if he had children, I wonder if he said yes.

“What happened the night your mother killed him.”

“The usual. A fight. He hit her. She found a weapon. She killed him. That was the only thing that happened differently. She got tired of being his punching bag.”

“A weapon? That’s CSI speak.”

“A knife. I went back and read the report a few years ago. It was a butcher’s knife.”

“Did you know it was a knife before the report?”

Sara shook her head. “I blocked out a lot of it.”

“Did reading the report help?”

“I don’t know. I think so. I am adult now and seeing all the hospital records and Mom’s statement helped me create a cohesive picture. I needed that. I needed to see how one plus two equaled three. Everything was disjointed in my mind. I couldn’t tell my nightmares from reality.”

“And now?”

“Now I understand better what happened. I never blamed my Mom before, but now I understand what happened.”

“Were you ever mad at her for killing your father?”

Sara thought for a minute. “I don’t think so. He was never really a father. If he had shown me any attention, negative or positive, I am sure I would have. But he didn’t, so the space he occupied in my mind, in my life, was so tiny that it didn’t matter.”

“You didn’t have father either way,” Dr. Peprah chimed in.

“You said your other counselor pointed out you have a penchant for selecting emotionally unavailable men.”

“You are thinking I did that with Grissom?” Sara wondered at the movement from her belly. Mention Gil’s name and her movements changed from strong and solid to a flurry and delicate action. She did not want to raise a little girl desperate for her father, desperate for male attention of any sort.

“I would say there was a bit of that in the beginning. But after so much time, if that was all it was, you would have found another fixation.”

Sara hoped the gentle round woman was right.

“Any word from him?” Dr. Peprah asked.

“No.”

“How does that make you feel?” Dr. Peprah said, cringing a little at the clichéd choice of words.

“Abandoned. Like I wasn’t important enough to share whatever it is.”

“Different from how you feel about your father?”

“Abandonment implies that he was present. He wasn’t. Gil came in and swept me off my feet. Then he lied to me and left.”

“Are you angry with him?”

Sara’s voice filled with vigor and pain. “When I see him again, I am going to kick his cute ass. Ouch.” Her daughter kicked hard, casting a dissenting vote on any bodily harm to her father.

Dr. Peprah laughed and showed her gap again. “That’s a good sign.”

“That my daughter has already taken sides?”

“No, that you are rational and realistic enough to be angry. That you still love him enough to offer commentary on his backside. That you think you’ll see him again.”

Girl Grissom went back to her delicate movements.


Somewhere in the Southeast

Gil sat on the porch of his cabin, sipping a forbidden cocktail.

“What is this?” he asked.

“A Rum Runner.”

“It’s pretty good. Just sweet enough.”

They had taken walks every morning for a week, sharing dinner and lunch intimately. They had no formal schedule. Their friendship was and ebb and flow like the ocean that was only a few miles away.

“So I saw your art supplies,” Dana said.

Gil cast his eyes downward. He had bought the supplies on a whim. He did not yet have the guts to take up the painting he had tossed aside in his youth.

“What are you going to paint?”

Gil took another sip of the brownish red liquid. “I don’t know that I am. It’s been a long time.”

“How long?”

“The last time I painted something I was twenty one. The last time I drew something was a few months ago.”

“Why did you stop painting?”

He ran a bare foot across the treated wood. “My father was an artist. That’s how my mother met him. She was the curator at a small gallery that sold his work.”

“Your father. The carrier of the dreaded disease,” Dana said trying to nail his shifting gaze.

“He was never good for much. Now he’s made me sick. Figures.” Gil took another sip.

“Is he still alive?”

“I am not sure.”

“Is that why you don’t have kids and never married? You didn’t want to be like him?”

Gil scratched his head. “According to Dr. Lucas. It’s motivated most of my behavior. I chose science because it was clear cut and had definite answers. My father would leave and we didn’t know when he was coming back or what he would be like when he got back. It’s why I like rules and order. I didn’t get married or have kids because I didn’t want to do what my father did. I wanted to be the antithesis of him.”

“Are you?”

“The beauty of age is wisdom. You can’t run from who you are. I hadn’t drawn anything in years, save for bugs. I illustrate my own books. NO ONE knows that.”

“Not even Sara?”

“No. I am sure I would have told her. It just never came up in our time together. I drew her the day after we broke up.”

Dana poured more cocktails from the tall slender pitcher that Gil had purchased on one of his Target runs.

“I’d like to see it sometime, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I assume that Sara is beautiful.”

Gil watched a mosquito land on his hand. He wondered if his blood would kill it. The insect pierced his skin, gathered nourishment and flew away

“Very,” Gil said.

“Smart, beautiful, thirty-three years old, whom you broke up with before you left.”

“I get your point. She might have moved on. I wanted her to move on.”

“That was before there was hope. You have hope now. You are going to beat this thing.”

“I am not out of the woods yet.”

“Oh please. You are hardly limping. There aren’t nearly as many bloody tissues in the trash. If possible, you look even better than you did the first time I saw you.”

Gil turned to look at her dark eyes. The last few words held something.

Dana gazed at her brightly painted toe nails. Her feet were bare and recently manicured. “Stop looking at me like that. I have a crush. It will go away.”

“Dana, I am sorry if I said or did anything that made you think…”

She wriggled both big toes. “A woman my age doesn’t get many chances.”

“Your age?” Gil asked.

“I am forty two years old. Not exactly ripe for the dating market. Wanna hear something silly? I still want kids. You are a man. You can have kids anytime. My alarm is about to go off.”

Gil stood and sat next to her on the steps. Softly he kissed her on the cheek. She smiled despite herself.

“I don’t need pity affection, Gil.”

“It wasn’t pity. You are a beautiful, smart woman and it is not too late for you to find someone and have children. I am not going to lie. I have had thoughts myself.”

Her full mouth turned up at the corners. “Carnal thoughts?”

“Nearly.”

“That’s sweet. Most men are looking for the Sara’s of the world.” She stopped and started again. “Probably not the Sara’s. She’s young but she’s smart and sounds pretty tough. I would pay to see what she’s going to do to you when you get back. Not to mention the rest of your family.”

“I never thought of them like that until I left them. They are my family. I should have told Brass or Catherine.”

Dana thought of something. The silver ring on one toe glinted. “Brass sounds fun. Does he like twelve year olds?”

Gil looked at the silver ring. He wondered if Sara would like one, not knowing that currently her feet were too swollen for jewelry. “Brass? Nah. He likes women his own age.”

“Which is?”

“Little older than me. Actually, if I introduced you to Brass or March, the other one would be quite angry.”

“Are you serious?” Dana said hopefully. “I thought March liked them young.”

“He likes them brown, actually. He has no age discrimination.”

“How very Robert De Niro of him,” she laughed.

“Tell you what? I make it, I’ll introduce you to both of them and you can watch them fight over you. I won’t be able to run interference because I’ll be running from Sara. Good thing I am in the best shape of my life.”

Dana laughed as she poured another drink.

“Are you going to ask Sara to marry you when you get out of here?”

“If I make it and if she’ll have me. Yes I will.”

“What about kids? You still afraid of becoming your father?”

A bit of sweat trickled from his under his green bandana. “I can’t help but be like him in certain ways. Your genes affect you. There’s not doubt about that. That’s why I am sick. But I know now that my mothers nurturing, her genes, made me who am I am as well. If Sara and I had children and it didn’t work out between us, I would never abandon my kids or leave Sara in financial straits.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Dana affirmed. “You going to have some babies with Sara? I mean, is Olivier’s and treatment gonna mess with your soldiers?”

Gil shrugged. “They say I won’t be completely sterile but my sperm count will be diminished by up to fifty percent. If Sara wants kids, we will figure something out.”

“Do you WANT kids?”

So used to thinking about what Sara needed and wanted, Gil had never given much consideration to the subject of wanting or not wanting children. “Yes. I do. I want kids with Sara. I want a family and the white picket fence. I never let myself hope for that before.”

“You should call her Gil. She’s probably worried sick. It’s kind of selfish what you did to them. I know you are used to suffering alone and taking care of everyone else. They would have welcomed the chance to repay you for all that you have done.”

He knew she was right. He just didn’t know what to do about it.