MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
aww *squees happily*
Of Nightmares and Pinkie-Swears, a CSI: Nick-Centric Fic
- Thread starter Jacqui
- Start date
I couldn't agree more. This has been such a great story. I hope there are many more stories on the way once this one is complete. If not, would begging and asking pretty please with sugar on top work? You have done a great job Jacqui.Such a feel-good story!!! I read so much angsty stuff, it's nice to have something like this to cheer me up.Very nice job once again!
Jacqui
Police Officer
This is actually the first half of this chapter; I will post the other half in the morning.
Thanks, as always, for your continued support and love Enjoy!!
Around supper time, the doorbell rang again. Cassie was setting the table and Nick was busy at the stove, so Bill trotted down the hallway and opened the door.
A woman with her dark hair twisted up into a French roll stood before him. She had what appeared to be a bottle of wine in each hand. “Hello,” she said with a pleasant smile. “Are Cassie and Nick home yet?”
“Yes,” he replied. “They’re getting ready to have supper.” In the Stokes house, nothing but nothing interrupted supper – no assistance-begging deputy DA, no warrant-seeking detective, nothing.
“I’m their neighbor,” replied the woman, gesturing to herself with her full hands. “Elizabeth Halles . . . Nick invited me to have supper with them this evening.”
Bill’s face brightened. “Oh – I see. Well, come in,” he said, gesturing.
“Thanks,” she replied as she entered the house. Bill shut the door behind her and then followed her down the hall to the kitchen. He watched Nick’s face alight when he looked up from the stove to see the woman approaching, and understood that the neighbor was very special to his son.
“For us,” she said, setting one bottle on the counter, “and for Cassie.” She put down the other bottle, which was sparkling cider. “I’m not terribly sure how well apple matches with marinara, but I figured Cassie deserved something to celebrate with.”
“Thanks,” he replied, and moved to kiss her cheek. “Elizabeth, this is my dad.” He gestured to the older man behind her.
“The honorable Judge Stokes,” said Elizabeth, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Bill held out his hand. “You can call me Bill,” he said with a smile as he silently approved her firm handshake. “It’s always a pleasure to meet any friend of my son’s – particularly under these happy circumstances.”
“Speaking of happy circumstances, where is my newest neighbor?” asked Elizabeth of Nick with a smile.
“Setting the table,” he reported, turning back to the sauce.
“I’ll help her out,” said Elizabeth, turning to the cupboard and pulling out four wine glasses before heading to the dining room.
Bill smiled as he watched his son admiring his neighbor’s rear view as she disappeared into the dining room, and was pleased when he heard Cassie squeal and start up merry conversation with Elizabeth. He caught Nick’s eye. “Your girl?”
He was a little embarrassed, but held his father’s gaze. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re blushin’, Pancho.”
Nick handed his father a pot holder. “Why don’t you get the bread on the table, Cisco?” Bill laughed and turned to the oven while Nick picked up the salad bowl to set on the table.
“Did you see what Elizabeth brought for me?” asked Cassie excitedly when he entered the dining room.
“I sure did,” he confirmed, setting down the bowl. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Elizabeth poured the wine and cider, and the four sat down to Nick’s first serious attempt at a spaghetti dinner. Once they had all had a chance to eat a little, Nick asked Cassie how she liked it.
“It’s really good, Nicky,” she replied, wiping her mouth. “I think it’s better than Miss Emily’s.”
Bill didn’t understand the significance of this comment, but admired Elizabeth as her eyes lit up and she laughed. Triumphant, his son turned to him to ask his own opinion, and he replied, smilingly, “It’s delicious, Pancho.”
With a raised eyebrow Nick then turned to Elizabeth, who was bursting to ask why his father called him Pancho. “And you, Miss Halles?”
“It’s edible,” she replied, the laughter in her eyes clashing with the serious expression on her face. “I’m more impressed with my own wine selection.” She picked up her glass and sipped it. “Mmm.”
Nick curled his lip in mock disgust at his dinner guest, but then sipped his – admittedly lovely – wine.
“She always teases him,” said Cassie to Bill, grinning.
“He teases back,” countered Elizabeth, her eyebrow quirked at Cassie.
“Oh! Hey, Nicky – I have a good idea,” said Cassie suddenly. “Why don’t we do that thing that you said your family did when you were all little kids?”
Nick creased his brow in confusion. “What thing?” There were a lot of Stokes traditions he had wistfully told Cassie about at one time or another, all of them from when he was a child.
“You know, at the dinner table. You all took turns talking about your day.”
As Nick’s face cleared with understanding, Bill turned to Cassie. “That’s an excellent idea, Miss Cassie,” he replied. “I’ll start. Today, I got on a plane and came to Las Vegas. Then I met you – you’ll be my fifteenth grandchild, you know – and I made supper with you and Pancho. And then I met your neighbor.”
Bursting to talk, Cassie took her turn. “I came home today!” she declared, which made both Nick and Elizabeth want to hug her tight. “And I got to meet you and I never had a grandpa at all before. Then we made dinner and now Elizabeth’s here.”
“Y’all are leavin’ one important detail out,” said Nick, sipping wine again. “We had Jillian’s brownies, once Cassie came home and met Cisco. And despite Miss Elizabeth’s opinion, I made a very nice dinner, which I am enjoying immensely with my family and my neighbor.” And my lover, he added silently, the last word tapping him gently on the shoulder as he smiled at her.
Elizabeth felt three pairs of expectant eyes on her. “Well,” she began, “let’s see . . . oh – I found out Bobby’s wife’s expecting,” she reported. “A colleague of mine,” she explained to Bill, and then, “Mr. Christianson,” to Cassie. “And we had three juries in – all convictions. It was a good day.”
Bill looked up at her, interested. “You must work for the district attorney’s office.”
Elizabeth grinned. “You could say that,” she agreed, and took a bite of her spaghetti.
Nick cleared his throat before explaining for his father. “The coy Miss Elizabeth means to say that she is the district attorney, but she’s too distracted with my excellent cooking.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch, Stokes.”
Bill turned back to Elizabeth, who was sipping her wine. “You being the DA or Pancho being able to cook?”
“Nicky’s cooking,” she replied without missing a beat. “I really am the Clark County District Attorney.”
“It’s true!” chirped Cassie from next to Elizabeth, swinging her feet back and forth. Elizabeth clinked glasses with her.
Bill laughed and shook his head at his son. “Well, by God, Pancho – I reckon your mother’ll be pleased as punch.” Nick could not possibly have been more proud, and it showed in how he smiled at his father. “You know, Miss Elizabeth, Mrs. Stokes and I tried to set Billy and all of our girls up with lawyers. None of them listened to us, so by the time Nicky graduated from college, we had given up.”
Elizabeth smiled at Bill, unable to stop herself from blushing. She was grateful when Cassie interrupted with a question.
“What kind of convictions did you get today, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth sat back and spread her napkin on her lap, chewing the last bite of spaghetti she had taken. “One guy ran a red light,” she said of the first conviction, which was actually a near-fatal hit and run. “One guy stole something from a nice lady.” It wasn’t an altogether eloquent euphemism for rape, but she wasn’t going to tell Cassie what the bastard had actually done. “Willows was pleased about that. And the last guy . . . let’s say he has an anger management problem.”
“Is that a crime?” asked Cassie, confused.
“No, but it’s a crime to kick people in the chest.” Especially when “people” meant the defendant’s boss, who had a pacemaker, because it caused a malfunction and the fifty-two year old died of a heart attack.
“I’m glad you got convictions. She’s good at that,” Cassie informed Bill, nodding. Bill shifted his look from Cassie to Elizabeth.
“I am,” she replied. “It’s true.”
“How long have you been in office?” asked Bill, who approved mightily of the way she turned toward Cassie when she spoke to her.
“Three years,” she replied, munching bread. “I’ll be starting a re-election campaign soon. I understand your wife was a DA for over thirty years.”
“That’s right,” replied Bill, smiling. “My Jillian, she stabilized that office – when she won her campaign back in 1965, you couldn’t spit without hittin’ some kind of corruption. It wasn’t all sinister, movie-type corruption, but bad eggs are bad eggs.”
“You gotta crack ‘em before they start to stink,” agreed Elizabeth, who winked at Cassie when she giggled.
“I like this little girl, Pancho,” said Bill, turning his attention toward Nick for a moment. “She’s a keeper, like your mamma. Anyway, Miss Elizabeth, the decent attorneys were over-worked, had little support and a paltry budget. She fought for those attorneys,” here he shook his fork at Elizabeth, “weeded out the bad ones, rewarded the good ones, and fought for Houston County. Every attorney, every clerk, every stenographer – hell, even the judges – loved her. You remember her retirement party, Pancho?”
“Yeah,” replied Nick through a mouthful of pasta. “You shoulda seen it, Lizzy. Almost a thousand people, and she kissed every single one of ‘em.”
Elizabeth smiled at Nick and then at his father. “I can’t wait to meet her,” she replied genuinely. “She sounds like an inspiring woman.” She looked over at Cassie then, who was watching the adult conversation intently. “And you got to have the famous brownies this morning.”
Her eyes brightened. “They were good. I’m going to see if she’ll show me how to make them.”
“You’ll have to see if she can teach you how to cook, too,” said Elizabeth, “or you’ll be stuck with awful dinners like this one.” She gestured to her empty plate, wine glass in hand.
“Hush,” said Nick, and if it weren’t for the twinkle in his big chocolate eyes she would’ve thought he was really upset with her teasing.
When they were all done eating Elizabeth dried the dishes that Cassie washed, and they figured out together where all of them belonged. After a game of Scrabble, which she resoundingly won, Elizabeth announced to a very disappointed Cassie that she had to go home.
“I have to take care of Ginger, remember,” she said as she hugged the little girl. “Besides, I’ll see you tomorrow when everyone from the lab comes over for lunch.” She left a kiss on Cassie’s cheek.
“It was very nice to meet you, Miss Elizabeth,” said Bill as he shook her hand. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths again – and don’t forget, my Jillian knows a thing or two about being re-elected. She’d be delighted to discuss it with you.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Elizabeth with a smile. “Have a safe flight home.”
“Good night.” He patted her hand, and then turned to Cassie. “Miss Cassie, while these two say good-night, why don’t you give me that tour of your room?”
“Okay!” she chirped happily. “Good night, Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth waved as the two of them walked down the hallway and up the stairs, and then turned to Nick. “Your dad’s nice . . . Pancho.”
He smiled. “I’ll tell you all about it the next time I get you alone.” The words my neighbor, my lover tapped him on the shoulder again, a little louder this time.
She laughed softly, the sound low in her throat. “That might not be for a while, you know. You have a pair of prying eyes now.”
He filled his lungs with air. “I can live with that,” he replied, and then let it out, flaring his nostrils. He paused a moment to look into her eyes; they were both flushed and smiling. “I can’t believe she’s actually home.”
Tears sprung to Elizabeth’s eyes. “Oh, Nicky . . . you look so happy.”
“I am,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She let him pull her in close. “I am, too,” she whispered. “For you . . . for Cassie . . . for me. I’ve never been a part of something like this. I don’t think I’ve ever . . .” She trailed off before she finished her statement, knowing it sounded kind of pathetic. When he quirked an eyebrow to encourage her to continue, she took a breath and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this much . . . joy.”
My lover, my friend was there again, and he kissed her in response. “I guess kids do that to people.”
Elizabeth studied his face a moment. “So do good men.”
Nick smiled bashfully and gave her one last kiss. “You better get to Ginger.”
She laid her head on his shoulder and squeezed his torso. “Good night, Nicky.”
Reluctantly, they parted. Nick watched her cross their yards to her front door and waited until her front lights were on and he could hear Ginger barking to welcome her home. When he closed the door, he let his hand linger there a moment.
My lover who I love.
Thanks, as always, for your continued support and love
Enjoy!!*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Around supper time, the doorbell rang again. Cassie was setting the table and Nick was busy at the stove, so Bill trotted down the hallway and opened the door.
A woman with her dark hair twisted up into a French roll stood before him. She had what appeared to be a bottle of wine in each hand. “Hello,” she said with a pleasant smile. “Are Cassie and Nick home yet?”
“Yes,” he replied. “They’re getting ready to have supper.” In the Stokes house, nothing but nothing interrupted supper – no assistance-begging deputy DA, no warrant-seeking detective, nothing.
“I’m their neighbor,” replied the woman, gesturing to herself with her full hands. “Elizabeth Halles . . . Nick invited me to have supper with them this evening.”
Bill’s face brightened. “Oh – I see. Well, come in,” he said, gesturing.
“Thanks,” she replied as she entered the house. Bill shut the door behind her and then followed her down the hall to the kitchen. He watched Nick’s face alight when he looked up from the stove to see the woman approaching, and understood that the neighbor was very special to his son.
“For us,” she said, setting one bottle on the counter, “and for Cassie.” She put down the other bottle, which was sparkling cider. “I’m not terribly sure how well apple matches with marinara, but I figured Cassie deserved something to celebrate with.”
“Thanks,” he replied, and moved to kiss her cheek. “Elizabeth, this is my dad.” He gestured to the older man behind her.
“The honorable Judge Stokes,” said Elizabeth, smiling. “It’s nice to meet you.”
Bill held out his hand. “You can call me Bill,” he said with a smile as he silently approved her firm handshake. “It’s always a pleasure to meet any friend of my son’s – particularly under these happy circumstances.”
“Speaking of happy circumstances, where is my newest neighbor?” asked Elizabeth of Nick with a smile.
“Setting the table,” he reported, turning back to the sauce.
“I’ll help her out,” said Elizabeth, turning to the cupboard and pulling out four wine glasses before heading to the dining room.
Bill smiled as he watched his son admiring his neighbor’s rear view as she disappeared into the dining room, and was pleased when he heard Cassie squeal and start up merry conversation with Elizabeth. He caught Nick’s eye. “Your girl?”
He was a little embarrassed, but held his father’s gaze. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re blushin’, Pancho.”
Nick handed his father a pot holder. “Why don’t you get the bread on the table, Cisco?” Bill laughed and turned to the oven while Nick picked up the salad bowl to set on the table.
“Did you see what Elizabeth brought for me?” asked Cassie excitedly when he entered the dining room.
“I sure did,” he confirmed, setting down the bowl. “Pretty cool, huh?”
Elizabeth poured the wine and cider, and the four sat down to Nick’s first serious attempt at a spaghetti dinner. Once they had all had a chance to eat a little, Nick asked Cassie how she liked it.
“It’s really good, Nicky,” she replied, wiping her mouth. “I think it’s better than Miss Emily’s.”
Bill didn’t understand the significance of this comment, but admired Elizabeth as her eyes lit up and she laughed. Triumphant, his son turned to him to ask his own opinion, and he replied, smilingly, “It’s delicious, Pancho.”
With a raised eyebrow Nick then turned to Elizabeth, who was bursting to ask why his father called him Pancho. “And you, Miss Halles?”
“It’s edible,” she replied, the laughter in her eyes clashing with the serious expression on her face. “I’m more impressed with my own wine selection.” She picked up her glass and sipped it. “Mmm.”
Nick curled his lip in mock disgust at his dinner guest, but then sipped his – admittedly lovely – wine.
“She always teases him,” said Cassie to Bill, grinning.
“He teases back,” countered Elizabeth, her eyebrow quirked at Cassie.
“Oh! Hey, Nicky – I have a good idea,” said Cassie suddenly. “Why don’t we do that thing that you said your family did when you were all little kids?”
Nick creased his brow in confusion. “What thing?” There were a lot of Stokes traditions he had wistfully told Cassie about at one time or another, all of them from when he was a child.
“You know, at the dinner table. You all took turns talking about your day.”
As Nick’s face cleared with understanding, Bill turned to Cassie. “That’s an excellent idea, Miss Cassie,” he replied. “I’ll start. Today, I got on a plane and came to Las Vegas. Then I met you – you’ll be my fifteenth grandchild, you know – and I made supper with you and Pancho. And then I met your neighbor.”
Bursting to talk, Cassie took her turn. “I came home today!” she declared, which made both Nick and Elizabeth want to hug her tight. “And I got to meet you and I never had a grandpa at all before. Then we made dinner and now Elizabeth’s here.”
“Y’all are leavin’ one important detail out,” said Nick, sipping wine again. “We had Jillian’s brownies, once Cassie came home and met Cisco. And despite Miss Elizabeth’s opinion, I made a very nice dinner, which I am enjoying immensely with my family and my neighbor.” And my lover, he added silently, the last word tapping him gently on the shoulder as he smiled at her.
Elizabeth felt three pairs of expectant eyes on her. “Well,” she began, “let’s see . . . oh – I found out Bobby’s wife’s expecting,” she reported. “A colleague of mine,” she explained to Bill, and then, “Mr. Christianson,” to Cassie. “And we had three juries in – all convictions. It was a good day.”
Bill looked up at her, interested. “You must work for the district attorney’s office.”
Elizabeth grinned. “You could say that,” she agreed, and took a bite of her spaghetti.
Nick cleared his throat before explaining for his father. “The coy Miss Elizabeth means to say that she is the district attorney, but she’s too distracted with my excellent cooking.”
“That’s a bit of a stretch, Stokes.”
Bill turned back to Elizabeth, who was sipping her wine. “You being the DA or Pancho being able to cook?”
“Nicky’s cooking,” she replied without missing a beat. “I really am the Clark County District Attorney.”
“It’s true!” chirped Cassie from next to Elizabeth, swinging her feet back and forth. Elizabeth clinked glasses with her.
Bill laughed and shook his head at his son. “Well, by God, Pancho – I reckon your mother’ll be pleased as punch.” Nick could not possibly have been more proud, and it showed in how he smiled at his father. “You know, Miss Elizabeth, Mrs. Stokes and I tried to set Billy and all of our girls up with lawyers. None of them listened to us, so by the time Nicky graduated from college, we had given up.”
Elizabeth smiled at Bill, unable to stop herself from blushing. She was grateful when Cassie interrupted with a question.
“What kind of convictions did you get today, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth sat back and spread her napkin on her lap, chewing the last bite of spaghetti she had taken. “One guy ran a red light,” she said of the first conviction, which was actually a near-fatal hit and run. “One guy stole something from a nice lady.” It wasn’t an altogether eloquent euphemism for rape, but she wasn’t going to tell Cassie what the bastard had actually done. “Willows was pleased about that. And the last guy . . . let’s say he has an anger management problem.”
“Is that a crime?” asked Cassie, confused.
“No, but it’s a crime to kick people in the chest.” Especially when “people” meant the defendant’s boss, who had a pacemaker, because it caused a malfunction and the fifty-two year old died of a heart attack.
“I’m glad you got convictions. She’s good at that,” Cassie informed Bill, nodding. Bill shifted his look from Cassie to Elizabeth.
“I am,” she replied. “It’s true.”
“How long have you been in office?” asked Bill, who approved mightily of the way she turned toward Cassie when she spoke to her.
“Three years,” she replied, munching bread. “I’ll be starting a re-election campaign soon. I understand your wife was a DA for over thirty years.”
“That’s right,” replied Bill, smiling. “My Jillian, she stabilized that office – when she won her campaign back in 1965, you couldn’t spit without hittin’ some kind of corruption. It wasn’t all sinister, movie-type corruption, but bad eggs are bad eggs.”
“You gotta crack ‘em before they start to stink,” agreed Elizabeth, who winked at Cassie when she giggled.
“I like this little girl, Pancho,” said Bill, turning his attention toward Nick for a moment. “She’s a keeper, like your mamma. Anyway, Miss Elizabeth, the decent attorneys were over-worked, had little support and a paltry budget. She fought for those attorneys,” here he shook his fork at Elizabeth, “weeded out the bad ones, rewarded the good ones, and fought for Houston County. Every attorney, every clerk, every stenographer – hell, even the judges – loved her. You remember her retirement party, Pancho?”
“Yeah,” replied Nick through a mouthful of pasta. “You shoulda seen it, Lizzy. Almost a thousand people, and she kissed every single one of ‘em.”
Elizabeth smiled at Nick and then at his father. “I can’t wait to meet her,” she replied genuinely. “She sounds like an inspiring woman.” She looked over at Cassie then, who was watching the adult conversation intently. “And you got to have the famous brownies this morning.”
Her eyes brightened. “They were good. I’m going to see if she’ll show me how to make them.”
“You’ll have to see if she can teach you how to cook, too,” said Elizabeth, “or you’ll be stuck with awful dinners like this one.” She gestured to her empty plate, wine glass in hand.
“Hush,” said Nick, and if it weren’t for the twinkle in his big chocolate eyes she would’ve thought he was really upset with her teasing.
When they were all done eating Elizabeth dried the dishes that Cassie washed, and they figured out together where all of them belonged. After a game of Scrabble, which she resoundingly won, Elizabeth announced to a very disappointed Cassie that she had to go home.
“I have to take care of Ginger, remember,” she said as she hugged the little girl. “Besides, I’ll see you tomorrow when everyone from the lab comes over for lunch.” She left a kiss on Cassie’s cheek.
“It was very nice to meet you, Miss Elizabeth,” said Bill as he shook her hand. “I’m sure we’ll cross paths again – and don’t forget, my Jillian knows a thing or two about being re-elected. She’d be delighted to discuss it with you.”
“Thank you, sir,” replied Elizabeth with a smile. “Have a safe flight home.”
“Good night.” He patted her hand, and then turned to Cassie. “Miss Cassie, while these two say good-night, why don’t you give me that tour of your room?”
“Okay!” she chirped happily. “Good night, Elizabeth!”
Elizabeth waved as the two of them walked down the hallway and up the stairs, and then turned to Nick. “Your dad’s nice . . . Pancho.”
He smiled. “I’ll tell you all about it the next time I get you alone.” The words my neighbor, my lover tapped him on the shoulder again, a little louder this time.
She laughed softly, the sound low in her throat. “That might not be for a while, you know. You have a pair of prying eyes now.”
He filled his lungs with air. “I can live with that,” he replied, and then let it out, flaring his nostrils. He paused a moment to look into her eyes; they were both flushed and smiling. “I can’t believe she’s actually home.”
Tears sprung to Elizabeth’s eyes. “Oh, Nicky . . . you look so happy.”
“I am,” he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist.
She let him pull her in close. “I am, too,” she whispered. “For you . . . for Cassie . . . for me. I’ve never been a part of something like this. I don’t think I’ve ever . . .” She trailed off before she finished her statement, knowing it sounded kind of pathetic. When he quirked an eyebrow to encourage her to continue, she took a breath and said, “I don’t think I’ve ever felt this much . . . joy.”
My lover, my friend was there again, and he kissed her in response. “I guess kids do that to people.”
Elizabeth studied his face a moment. “So do good men.”
Nick smiled bashfully and gave her one last kiss. “You better get to Ginger.”
She laid her head on his shoulder and squeezed his torso. “Good night, Nicky.”
Reluctantly, they parted. Nick watched her cross their yards to her front door and waited until her front lights were on and he could hear Ginger barking to welcome her home. When he closed the door, he let his hand linger there a moment.
My lover who I love.
Speedystokesgirl
Judge
Oh, that was such a sweet chapter. I had a feeling that Bill would like Elizabeth and that he would figure out that Nick and Elizabeth were a little more than just neighbors. :devil:
Loved Elizabeth razzing Nick about his dinner. Just priceless.
We're all happy that Cassie is home and I loved her "I came home today"
And your attention to detail, like where Bill shook his fork at her. What a way to paint a picture.
Definitely looking forward to the 2nd part of this chapter.
Loved Elizabeth razzing Nick about his dinner. Just priceless.
We're all happy that Cassie is home and I loved her "I came home today"
And your attention to detail, like where Bill shook his fork at her. What a way to paint a picture.
Definitely looking forward to the 2nd part of this chapter.
Jacqui
Police Officer
Well, I haven't gone to bed yet, so now I can Thanks Speedy!! Here you go!
“I don’t suppose any of this means you’ll be comin’ home, Pancho?”
Cassie was in bed, having survived Nick’s first experience brushing her hair out. She tried to hide it but had been a little apprehensive of going to bed, and Nick understood why – everything was new that day, her routine had changed, and although it had been a good day and she was tired, she was going to bed in an unfamiliar room. He didn’t question her, but reassured her as best as he could. “Don’t forget I’m right down the hall, princess,” he said before tucking her in. He left a kiss on her forehead and the nightlight on before welcoming her home once more and wishing her a good night’s sleep.
Now Nick was quiet a moment before he answered his father, sitting on his couch in his pajamas with a glass of water. “I don’t think so, Cisco,” he replied gently. “I have a life here.”
Bill smiled sadly. “That’s about what I expected you to say.”
“It’s not Vegas that makes me want to stay,” said Nick, sipping his water. “It’s the work . . . the people. Cassie and Elizabeth.”
“I know,” replied Bill. “Have you . . . have you spoken to Billy lately?”
Nick finished his water and set the glass on the coffee table. “No. Not since he accused me of being gay because I’m not married yet.”
“Maybe you should give him a call,” suggested Bill. “Might go a long way.”
Nick leveled a surprised look at his father. “He should be calling me,” he replied, his tone firm. “All the girls called this afternoon to talk to Cassie, and where was Billy? Too busy defending worthless criminals. If our situations were reversed you wouldn’t be telling him to call me.”
Bill shook his head. “That’s pretty harsh, Pancho. Honestly, where does all of this anger come from?”
“I just don’t understand why you and I aren’t as close as you and he are,” said Nick, the words coming out in a rush. “I don’t feel unloved, Cisco, not by a long shot. But even if I lived next door to you, you’d be callin’ up Billy to watch the Cowboys play, not me.”
Bill looked away, sighing. Nick almost felt bad for opening an old wound, but wanted to put the matter at rest. When his father turned back to him, he had a pleading expression on his face, and he spoke gently. “Don’t you understand, Pancho? Most days I was happy to walk into the house and find you breathing. Every time you got pneumonia I had to wonder how long I had with you – had to wonder if I’d take you to the hospital and come home empty-handed.”
Nick was quieted by this statement. “I don’t remember bein’ that sick.”
“It was all normal to you. Your mother and I did everything we could to make sure we were the only ones who worried about you . . . and we did worry, Pancho, both of us. We didn’t want the other kids to worry about you or to think that they weren’t as important to us as you were, but it was a tough couple of years. When you were born we fought so hard to save you – we had every specialist in the country come and take a poke at you to see what they could do for us, to save our little baby Nicholas. Premature was as good as a death sentence back then, Pancho, and you were more than a month old before we knew for sure you’d make it.”
“Must’ve been so hard,” said Nick, really thinking about it for the first time, “trying to maintain some kind of normalcy for Billy and the girls, bein’ with me at the hospital . . . and you still working.”
“It was terrible on your mother,” continued Bill, looking at the photograph of Jillian on Nick’s coffee table. “Back then it was OK to let women think that difficulties in their pregnancies were their own fault. She was riddled with guilt about how you were, more guilt about leaving Billy and the girls home with the nanny so often, and even more because it was a tough time between her and I.” He looked back up at Nick. “I don’t want to belittle what you’re doing here, Pancho, and I know you love Cassie, but she’s not your own. There are some things that you just don’t understand – you may never understand them, unless things go the right way with that Miss Elizabeth.”
The words stung, but Nick knew it was useless to point it out. He cleared his throat uneasily and then said, “If you could just tell me . . . that Cassie’s no different in your eyes than any of your other grandkids . . . that’s all I really care about.”
Knowing there was still something not right between them, Bill tilted his head. “Ah, Pancho . . . I don’t mean . . . I never meant to imply that your Cassie means less. She doesn’t; not at all. It’s just . . . the experience that you’ll have as a parent will be far different from the experience I had . . . far from the ones your sisters have.” He shook his head, trying to come up with the right thing to say for once. “Listen, I don’t love Billy any more or less than I love you. Billy and I just . . . connected, on some level, when he was very young. I think it was because we both missed your mother so terribly. She was on bed rest, with the second set of triplets . . . then you came along and not only was she on bed rest again before you were born, but afterward she was completely gone from the house. Emotionally, she was so far from me that there were days I didn’t recognize her. You were two before she let me touch her again . . . three before we made love again.” He looked away, embarrassed, knowing that Nick was, too. “Can you imagine that, Pancho – not being able to make love to your wife?”
Nick wanted to shoot back a remark about how he wouldn’t understand because he didn’t have a wife, but held his tongue. His father had never been so open with him, and he didn’t want to give him cause to clam up now. He simply shook his head.
Bill was quiet for a long moment before he said, “It would mean the world to me if that little girl would call me Grandpa Cisco.”
Nick smiled happily at his father, these simple words a balm to his old sores. All that mattered now, he knew, was Cassie. If his father accepted Cassie, loved Cassie, treated Cassie with all the respect and adoration she deserved – like a Stokes – then that was it. He’d find a way to let go of old resentment; he’d find a way to get along with Billy and his hussy of a wife. “I think she’d love to,” he replied.
Bill nodded. “Good. Now, I have a plane to catch in the morning, so let’s get to bed.”
Nick agreed, and they rose from the couch and headed toward the stairs, Nick following Bill. The younger Stokes had only climbed three stairs when he paused, and turned a well-trained ear upstairs.
Bill had heard the whimpering, too. “What is that, Pancho?”
Faintly, they both heard, “Mommy!”
“Cassie,” breathed Nick, and took the rest of the stairs two at a time.
Bill followed his son into Cassie’s pink room and stood by the door. Nick had flipped the light on and was sitting on the edge of Cassie’s bed, trying to gently shake her.
“Cassie, wake up, sweetheart,” he cajoled, his tone firm but quiet. When she started to strike the arms that were trying to comfort her, he knew he’d have to be more forceful. Taking her by the shoulders, he sat her up and all but barked in her face. “Cassie!”
Her eyes opened a little and she looked blindly at Nick, but said nothing. Her breathing was heavy and erratic.
“Cassie, it’s me, Nick. You’re safe at home.”
“No, I’m not,” she wailed, and tried to wrestle out of his grip. “Leave me alone! I want my mom! What did you do to my mom?”
He didn’t argue with her, but held firm. “Cassie, tell me what you see.”
“No!”
He shook her again. “Cassie, it’s Nick. You’re safe. I want you to tell me what you see.”
She stopped struggling, but her little body was still tense. “See?”
“Yes. Tell me five things that you see.”
“I see you!” she spat, disgust in her voice.
“That’s right . . . I’m Nick. You see me.” She seemed to register this, as her eyes focused a little more on his face. “Now, what else do you see?”
Her eyes darted around the room. “I . . . see . . . gumballs.”
“Okay . . . that’s good. What else?”
Cassie’s breathing settled a little, and she continued. “I see books and curtains.”
“One more, princess.”
“I see a dresser.”
Nick flicked a glance toward his father, who was still standing in the doorway. He looked fascinated but appalled, so Nick decided to put him to work. “How ‘bout some water, Cisco?”
The judge nodded. “Sure. Sure, Pancho.” But he didn’t move.
Nick turned back to Cassie, whose breathing had returned to normal. “Where are you, Cassie?”
“I’m with you . . . I’m . . . home.” Her big blue eyes finally focused on his brown ones, which smiled comfortingly. She wanted to smile back, to show Nick she was okay and to be strong, but the images that had just tromped through her sleep wouldn’t let her. “Why won’t they go away?” she implored, her face scrunched up, and then she burst into tears. “Why won’t the nightmares go away, Nicky?”
Nick pulled her close, rubbing her back, and then caught his father still standing in the doorway. “Please, Cisco – she needs a glass of water.”
Bill looked at Nick as if he hadn’t been there. “Sure. I’m sorry – I’ll get it. Be right back.” He moved swiftly down the hall; Nick waited to roll his eyes until he heard the footfalls on the stairs. He leaned with Cassie in his arms against the footboard of her sleigh bed and waited for the sobs to subside.
When Cassie had settled down for the most part, Bill handed her the glass of water. She sat up and drank it quickly, and the empty glass was replaced with tissues in her hand. She wiped her eyes and nose and then slumped against Nick again as Bill went back to the kitchen to put the glass in the sink.
“How often do you have nightmares, Cassie?”
She closed her eyes against the memory of the last time he’d asked her something similar, sitting on Emily’s couch. “Sometimes,” she replied, her voice shaky, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
“It’s okay,” he replied, his chin resting on her head, still rubbing her back. “Do you think . . . once a month?”
“It depends,” she whispered. “Sometimes I have them every night for a couple of nights and then I won’t get one for a long time. But they’re not always . . . they’re not always so bad.”
“I’ll help you make them go away,” he vowed, his voice low, talking into her hair.
She was quiet a while. “Right after my mom and dad died, I had them every night,” she whispered. “Bad ones. I screamed and screamed and Sheriff Brackett had to splash water in my face sometimes.” Nick shook his head in dismay. “The kids in Pioche all said I went crazy. Do you think I’m crazy, Nick?”
He thumped her back. “Hey, sit up.” She did, and he touched her chin as he said, “Now listen to me, because this is very important. You’re not crazy, Cassie – not at all. I think you have something called post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Isn’t that just a grown-up word for crazy?”
His heart broke in two. “No, princess . . . it’s a temporary condition. When your family died, you experienced something terrible – something most people would never dream of. Your mind is still trying to make sense of it and you’re still dealing with the fear and loss.”
She shook her head, as thought she didn’t want to believe it. “But it’s been so long . . . shouldn’t I be over it by now? Susan says I should be over it.”
“Susan isn’t over what happened to her, and she’s in therapy,” said Nick, annoyed. “No one’s helping you talk through these things. How are you supposed to recover if no one helps you?”
She was quiet a moment. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I didn’t know I needed to recover from anything.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Tomorrow morning I’m going to call a therapist I know and we’ll see if she can talk to you.”
“But I don’t want to talk to a therapist. Why can’t I just talk to you?”
“I know you don’t want to talk to someone who seems like a stranger, Cassie, but I think it would be best. I need you to trust me on this.”
“But I’m scared.”
“I’ll be with you. I promise.” He held up his right pinkie.
She linked pinkies with him and then wrapped her other arm around his neck. When he squeezed her small frame with his free arm, she sobbed. He made soft shushing noises, patting her back, and telling her it would be okay. When she was done crying she sat back again and asked, “Talking to a therapist will make the nightmares go away?”
Nick nodded. “It’s not magic, honey, but it does work.”
“Okay,” she replied, her voice still thick. “I’ll trust you.”
He smiled. “Good. Now, do you think you can get back to sleep?”
“Yeah,” she replied quietly, nodding. “Can you stay here until I fall asleep?”
“Sure, princess,” he replied readily, nodding. She moved out of his arms to crawl under the quilt. He helped her straighten it out and pulled it up under her chin, and left a kiss on her forehead. He took up residence at the foot of her bed, thinking with amusement that he was like Ginger, a monstrous teddy bear curled up at the foot of Elizabeth’s bed.
She fell asleep quickly. When he was assured by her even and deep breathing that her sleep was peaceful, he rose again, leaving on her lamp, and left the room, headed for the kitchen. He met his father in the hallway.
Rubbing his eyes, he asked, “You okay, Cisco?”
The elder Stokes quirked his eyebrow at his son. “Is she okay?”
“She’ll be all right,” replied Nick.
Bill’s eyes flicked toward Cassie’s room, and then met Nick’s. “You handled that well. Really well.”
Nick’s heart thumped with pride. “Thanks.”
“You’ll be a great dad, Pancho.” Bill placed his hand on Nick’s bicep, squeezing. “It’s hard for me to think of you that way . . . you’re my little boy. But you’re gonna be a hell of a dad.”
Nick smiled and hugged his father. “Thanks, Cisco. That means a lot.”
“Probably a bit overdue,” Bill replied, pulling back. “Let’s get some sleep, huh?”
Nick nodded and headed for his bedroom. Once he laid down, he let out a breath, thinking about the day. His father had said that there were some things he didn’t understand – would never understand – because he didn’t have a child of his own. But the truth was that despite it, there were things that the Honorable William Garrett Stokes the Third, as intelligent and wise as he was, didn’t and would never understand. How much Nick identified with Cassie was just the tip of the iceberg. He’d never told his parents about his nightmares, not even his mother when she was still staying with him in the aftermath of his burial ordeal. His mother may have sympathized, but his father would have seen it as a weakness. In Bill’s opinion, the things that life threw at a person were to be dealt with in an orderly and logical fashion, without delay and without involving others, if others’ involvement was not strictly necessary. He didn’t understand, despite the troubles he experienced when Nick was an infant, that sometimes what life threw at you was messy, that it didn’t come in a logical order, and that taking a swipe at it to make it go away was a little like using a baseball bat to swat a fly. You take out the house in the process, and in the end, the fly gets away.
But it was all okay, he reasoned as he turned onto his side, wishing Elizabeth were there to snuggle with. Life had thrown him utter shit sometimes, but it had also thrown him the most precious thing he could ever dream of – it had thrown him Cassie. Today began a new chapter in his life. He had a little girl to think about, and his father was right. Continuing to feud with Billy was a waste of his energy, which was better spent doing what he promised Cassie he would do.
Thanks Speedy!! Here you go!*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
“I don’t suppose any of this means you’ll be comin’ home, Pancho?”
Cassie was in bed, having survived Nick’s first experience brushing her hair out. She tried to hide it but had been a little apprehensive of going to bed, and Nick understood why – everything was new that day, her routine had changed, and although it had been a good day and she was tired, she was going to bed in an unfamiliar room. He didn’t question her, but reassured her as best as he could. “Don’t forget I’m right down the hall, princess,” he said before tucking her in. He left a kiss on her forehead and the nightlight on before welcoming her home once more and wishing her a good night’s sleep.
Now Nick was quiet a moment before he answered his father, sitting on his couch in his pajamas with a glass of water. “I don’t think so, Cisco,” he replied gently. “I have a life here.”
Bill smiled sadly. “That’s about what I expected you to say.”
“It’s not Vegas that makes me want to stay,” said Nick, sipping his water. “It’s the work . . . the people. Cassie and Elizabeth.”
“I know,” replied Bill. “Have you . . . have you spoken to Billy lately?”
Nick finished his water and set the glass on the coffee table. “No. Not since he accused me of being gay because I’m not married yet.”
“Maybe you should give him a call,” suggested Bill. “Might go a long way.”
Nick leveled a surprised look at his father. “He should be calling me,” he replied, his tone firm. “All the girls called this afternoon to talk to Cassie, and where was Billy? Too busy defending worthless criminals. If our situations were reversed you wouldn’t be telling him to call me.”
Bill shook his head. “That’s pretty harsh, Pancho. Honestly, where does all of this anger come from?”
“I just don’t understand why you and I aren’t as close as you and he are,” said Nick, the words coming out in a rush. “I don’t feel unloved, Cisco, not by a long shot. But even if I lived next door to you, you’d be callin’ up Billy to watch the Cowboys play, not me.”
Bill looked away, sighing. Nick almost felt bad for opening an old wound, but wanted to put the matter at rest. When his father turned back to him, he had a pleading expression on his face, and he spoke gently. “Don’t you understand, Pancho? Most days I was happy to walk into the house and find you breathing. Every time you got pneumonia I had to wonder how long I had with you – had to wonder if I’d take you to the hospital and come home empty-handed.”
Nick was quieted by this statement. “I don’t remember bein’ that sick.”
“It was all normal to you. Your mother and I did everything we could to make sure we were the only ones who worried about you . . . and we did worry, Pancho, both of us. We didn’t want the other kids to worry about you or to think that they weren’t as important to us as you were, but it was a tough couple of years. When you were born we fought so hard to save you – we had every specialist in the country come and take a poke at you to see what they could do for us, to save our little baby Nicholas. Premature was as good as a death sentence back then, Pancho, and you were more than a month old before we knew for sure you’d make it.”
“Must’ve been so hard,” said Nick, really thinking about it for the first time, “trying to maintain some kind of normalcy for Billy and the girls, bein’ with me at the hospital . . . and you still working.”
“It was terrible on your mother,” continued Bill, looking at the photograph of Jillian on Nick’s coffee table. “Back then it was OK to let women think that difficulties in their pregnancies were their own fault. She was riddled with guilt about how you were, more guilt about leaving Billy and the girls home with the nanny so often, and even more because it was a tough time between her and I.” He looked back up at Nick. “I don’t want to belittle what you’re doing here, Pancho, and I know you love Cassie, but she’s not your own. There are some things that you just don’t understand – you may never understand them, unless things go the right way with that Miss Elizabeth.”
The words stung, but Nick knew it was useless to point it out. He cleared his throat uneasily and then said, “If you could just tell me . . . that Cassie’s no different in your eyes than any of your other grandkids . . . that’s all I really care about.”
Knowing there was still something not right between them, Bill tilted his head. “Ah, Pancho . . . I don’t mean . . . I never meant to imply that your Cassie means less. She doesn’t; not at all. It’s just . . . the experience that you’ll have as a parent will be far different from the experience I had . . . far from the ones your sisters have.” He shook his head, trying to come up with the right thing to say for once. “Listen, I don’t love Billy any more or less than I love you. Billy and I just . . . connected, on some level, when he was very young. I think it was because we both missed your mother so terribly. She was on bed rest, with the second set of triplets . . . then you came along and not only was she on bed rest again before you were born, but afterward she was completely gone from the house. Emotionally, she was so far from me that there were days I didn’t recognize her. You were two before she let me touch her again . . . three before we made love again.” He looked away, embarrassed, knowing that Nick was, too. “Can you imagine that, Pancho – not being able to make love to your wife?”
Nick wanted to shoot back a remark about how he wouldn’t understand because he didn’t have a wife, but held his tongue. His father had never been so open with him, and he didn’t want to give him cause to clam up now. He simply shook his head.
Bill was quiet for a long moment before he said, “It would mean the world to me if that little girl would call me Grandpa Cisco.”
Nick smiled happily at his father, these simple words a balm to his old sores. All that mattered now, he knew, was Cassie. If his father accepted Cassie, loved Cassie, treated Cassie with all the respect and adoration she deserved – like a Stokes – then that was it. He’d find a way to let go of old resentment; he’d find a way to get along with Billy and his hussy of a wife. “I think she’d love to,” he replied.
Bill nodded. “Good. Now, I have a plane to catch in the morning, so let’s get to bed.”
Nick agreed, and they rose from the couch and headed toward the stairs, Nick following Bill. The younger Stokes had only climbed three stairs when he paused, and turned a well-trained ear upstairs.
Bill had heard the whimpering, too. “What is that, Pancho?”
Faintly, they both heard, “Mommy!”
“Cassie,” breathed Nick, and took the rest of the stairs two at a time.
Bill followed his son into Cassie’s pink room and stood by the door. Nick had flipped the light on and was sitting on the edge of Cassie’s bed, trying to gently shake her.
“Cassie, wake up, sweetheart,” he cajoled, his tone firm but quiet. When she started to strike the arms that were trying to comfort her, he knew he’d have to be more forceful. Taking her by the shoulders, he sat her up and all but barked in her face. “Cassie!”
Her eyes opened a little and she looked blindly at Nick, but said nothing. Her breathing was heavy and erratic.
“Cassie, it’s me, Nick. You’re safe at home.”
“No, I’m not,” she wailed, and tried to wrestle out of his grip. “Leave me alone! I want my mom! What did you do to my mom?”
He didn’t argue with her, but held firm. “Cassie, tell me what you see.”
“No!”
He shook her again. “Cassie, it’s Nick. You’re safe. I want you to tell me what you see.”
She stopped struggling, but her little body was still tense. “See?”
“Yes. Tell me five things that you see.”
“I see you!” she spat, disgust in her voice.
“That’s right . . . I’m Nick. You see me.” She seemed to register this, as her eyes focused a little more on his face. “Now, what else do you see?”
Her eyes darted around the room. “I . . . see . . . gumballs.”
“Okay . . . that’s good. What else?”
Cassie’s breathing settled a little, and she continued. “I see books and curtains.”
“One more, princess.”
“I see a dresser.”
Nick flicked a glance toward his father, who was still standing in the doorway. He looked fascinated but appalled, so Nick decided to put him to work. “How ‘bout some water, Cisco?”
The judge nodded. “Sure. Sure, Pancho.” But he didn’t move.
Nick turned back to Cassie, whose breathing had returned to normal. “Where are you, Cassie?”
“I’m with you . . . I’m . . . home.” Her big blue eyes finally focused on his brown ones, which smiled comfortingly. She wanted to smile back, to show Nick she was okay and to be strong, but the images that had just tromped through her sleep wouldn’t let her. “Why won’t they go away?” she implored, her face scrunched up, and then she burst into tears. “Why won’t the nightmares go away, Nicky?”
Nick pulled her close, rubbing her back, and then caught his father still standing in the doorway. “Please, Cisco – she needs a glass of water.”
Bill looked at Nick as if he hadn’t been there. “Sure. I’m sorry – I’ll get it. Be right back.” He moved swiftly down the hall; Nick waited to roll his eyes until he heard the footfalls on the stairs. He leaned with Cassie in his arms against the footboard of her sleigh bed and waited for the sobs to subside.
When Cassie had settled down for the most part, Bill handed her the glass of water. She sat up and drank it quickly, and the empty glass was replaced with tissues in her hand. She wiped her eyes and nose and then slumped against Nick again as Bill went back to the kitchen to put the glass in the sink.
“How often do you have nightmares, Cassie?”
She closed her eyes against the memory of the last time he’d asked her something similar, sitting on Emily’s couch. “Sometimes,” she replied, her voice shaky, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.”
“It’s okay,” he replied, his chin resting on her head, still rubbing her back. “Do you think . . . once a month?”
“It depends,” she whispered. “Sometimes I have them every night for a couple of nights and then I won’t get one for a long time. But they’re not always . . . they’re not always so bad.”
“I’ll help you make them go away,” he vowed, his voice low, talking into her hair.
She was quiet a while. “Right after my mom and dad died, I had them every night,” she whispered. “Bad ones. I screamed and screamed and Sheriff Brackett had to splash water in my face sometimes.” Nick shook his head in dismay. “The kids in Pioche all said I went crazy. Do you think I’m crazy, Nick?”
He thumped her back. “Hey, sit up.” She did, and he touched her chin as he said, “Now listen to me, because this is very important. You’re not crazy, Cassie – not at all. I think you have something called post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Isn’t that just a grown-up word for crazy?”
His heart broke in two. “No, princess . . . it’s a temporary condition. When your family died, you experienced something terrible – something most people would never dream of. Your mind is still trying to make sense of it and you’re still dealing with the fear and loss.”
She shook her head, as thought she didn’t want to believe it. “But it’s been so long . . . shouldn’t I be over it by now? Susan says I should be over it.”
“Susan isn’t over what happened to her, and she’s in therapy,” said Nick, annoyed. “No one’s helping you talk through these things. How are you supposed to recover if no one helps you?”
She was quiet a moment. “I don’t know,” she replied. “I didn’t know I needed to recover from anything.”
“Well, that’s what I’m here for. Tomorrow morning I’m going to call a therapist I know and we’ll see if she can talk to you.”
“But I don’t want to talk to a therapist. Why can’t I just talk to you?”
“I know you don’t want to talk to someone who seems like a stranger, Cassie, but I think it would be best. I need you to trust me on this.”
“But I’m scared.”
“I’ll be with you. I promise.” He held up his right pinkie.
She linked pinkies with him and then wrapped her other arm around his neck. When he squeezed her small frame with his free arm, she sobbed. He made soft shushing noises, patting her back, and telling her it would be okay. When she was done crying she sat back again and asked, “Talking to a therapist will make the nightmares go away?”
Nick nodded. “It’s not magic, honey, but it does work.”
“Okay,” she replied, her voice still thick. “I’ll trust you.”
He smiled. “Good. Now, do you think you can get back to sleep?”
“Yeah,” she replied quietly, nodding. “Can you stay here until I fall asleep?”
“Sure, princess,” he replied readily, nodding. She moved out of his arms to crawl under the quilt. He helped her straighten it out and pulled it up under her chin, and left a kiss on her forehead. He took up residence at the foot of her bed, thinking with amusement that he was like Ginger, a monstrous teddy bear curled up at the foot of Elizabeth’s bed.
She fell asleep quickly. When he was assured by her even and deep breathing that her sleep was peaceful, he rose again, leaving on her lamp, and left the room, headed for the kitchen. He met his father in the hallway.
Rubbing his eyes, he asked, “You okay, Cisco?”
The elder Stokes quirked his eyebrow at his son. “Is she okay?”
“She’ll be all right,” replied Nick.
Bill’s eyes flicked toward Cassie’s room, and then met Nick’s. “You handled that well. Really well.”
Nick’s heart thumped with pride. “Thanks.”
“You’ll be a great dad, Pancho.” Bill placed his hand on Nick’s bicep, squeezing. “It’s hard for me to think of you that way . . . you’re my little boy. But you’re gonna be a hell of a dad.”
Nick smiled and hugged his father. “Thanks, Cisco. That means a lot.”
“Probably a bit overdue,” Bill replied, pulling back. “Let’s get some sleep, huh?”
Nick nodded and headed for his bedroom. Once he laid down, he let out a breath, thinking about the day. His father had said that there were some things he didn’t understand – would never understand – because he didn’t have a child of his own. But the truth was that despite it, there were things that the Honorable William Garrett Stokes the Third, as intelligent and wise as he was, didn’t and would never understand. How much Nick identified with Cassie was just the tip of the iceberg. He’d never told his parents about his nightmares, not even his mother when she was still staying with him in the aftermath of his burial ordeal. His mother may have sympathized, but his father would have seen it as a weakness. In Bill’s opinion, the things that life threw at a person were to be dealt with in an orderly and logical fashion, without delay and without involving others, if others’ involvement was not strictly necessary. He didn’t understand, despite the troubles he experienced when Nick was an infant, that sometimes what life threw at you was messy, that it didn’t come in a logical order, and that taking a swipe at it to make it go away was a little like using a baseball bat to swat a fly. You take out the house in the process, and in the end, the fly gets away.
But it was all okay, he reasoned as he turned onto his side, wishing Elizabeth were there to snuggle with. Life had thrown him utter shit sometimes, but it had also thrown him the most precious thing he could ever dream of – it had thrown him Cassie. Today began a new chapter in his life. He had a little girl to think about, and his father was right. Continuing to feud with Billy was a waste of his energy, which was better spent doing what he promised Cassie he would do.
Awww. I loved the interactions with everyone in the first part. Loved how Bill liked Elizabeth and said Jillian would be "pleased as punch". And I loved Bill and Nick's talk and Bill wanting Cassie to call him Grandpa. And Nicky was really good with Cassie and handled the nightmare well.
And I loved Bill and Nick's talk and Bill wanting Cassie to call him Grandpa. And Nicky was really good with Cassie and handled the nightmare well.Speedystokesgirl
Judge
Oh Nick finally got what he wanted from his father, respect and he's father proud of him too. Thinks he'll be a great dad. I really think Nick needed to hear that and talk to his dad about everything.
I'm glad his dad let Nick handle Cassie on his own and didn't interfere. I truly believe that Nick and Bill have a better understanding of each other.
Nick was great calming Cassie down and comforting her. Nick is definitely a dad and staying with Cassie til she falls asleep just proves that.
I hope Cassie starts calling Bill, Grandpa Cisco. He has accepted Cassie and I know he'll love her as much as his other grandchildren.
A lot of healing in this chapter and that healing was needed.
Great chapter, again! Looking forward to the next update.
I'm glad his dad let Nick handle Cassie on his own and didn't interfere. I truly believe that Nick and Bill have a better understanding of each other.
Nick was great calming Cassie down and comforting her. Nick is definitely a dad and staying with Cassie til she falls asleep just proves that.
I hope Cassie starts calling Bill, Grandpa Cisco. He has accepted Cassie and I know he'll love her as much as his other grandchildren.
A lot of healing in this chapter and that healing was needed.
Great chapter, again! Looking forward to the next update.
MacsGirlMel
Mac's Personal Assistant
more more...I want more of the shippy stuff and I kinda want a brother talk too.
Jacqui
Police Officer
Hello again! It's been a while since I updated last - sorry about that - so I hope this is worth the wait. Enjoy!
Dr. Maria Schrantz was a tall, slender woman with dark hair, porcelain skin, and striking blue eyes. During his first session with her, Nick had taken incredible comfort in the kindness of those eyes. His first thought upon meeting her was that if the eyes truly were the windows to the soul, then sweet Jesus did she have a beautiful soul. But that had been not much more than a week after he had been yanked by a rope out of a dirt-filled box as a bomb erupted in his wake, so any distraction was more than welcome. She was as insightful as she was calm and even-tempered, and had an almost ethereal quality about her.
The morning following Cassie’s nightmare was a Saturday, but Nick called her office anyway, knowing that she had occasional Saturday sessions. She invited them both in to talk to her that morning. She felt it was important for Cassie to be seen as soon as possible.
They arrived at ten o’clock, and once Cassie was introduced to her, Dr. Schrantz wanted to talk to Nick first. “Just for a few minutes,” she was quick to assure the little girl when she gave a worried look to Nick. “Besides, I need you to fill this out for me.” She handed Cassie a sheet of paper clipped to a clipboard and a pen. “This will just help me learn about you and how you’re feeling.”
Cassie nodded and took the clipboard, having done this when she was first delivered to the care of the Clark County Department of Family Services.
Dr. Schrantz followed Nick into her office and sat down in her chair while he took a familiar position on her couch.
“How have you been, Nick?” she asked with a pleasant smile.
“Great,” he replied, and unlike the other times he’d sat in the same chair and declared the same thing, he now had a look about him that made Dr. Schrantz believe it.
“I remember you telling me about Cassie’s case in one of the last sessions we had,” she began, and then entreated him to tell the remainder of the story. She listened placidly while he told her, and then asked, “Does Cassie know about your kidnapping?”
He shook his head. “No,” he admitted.
“Had it not been for that event, you may never have met Cassie. Don’t you think it’s important for her to understand your motivation?”
Nick was quiet. “I just thought . . . she’s just a kid. Why burden her with stories of such . . . malice?”
“You and I have talked about your relationship with your dad,” said the good doctor. “You’ve said that you found it frustrating that he never opened up to you . . .that you didn’t understand his motivation.”
Nick understood where she was going, but was doubtful. “This is a little different, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think anything can be harmed by telling her what happened to you. We keep certain things from our children in order to protect their innocence, but there’s a part of Cassie’s innocence that’s already lost and keeping this from her won’t bring it back. I’m not suggesting that you should make a production of telling her or that you should tell her every detail. I’m just saying that if it should ever come up, you should consider it. Just keep in mind how much it hurt to think that there was something wrong with you, as a child trying to understand his father.”
Looking away, Nick thought about it. He couldn’t imagine any circumstance in which it would ever be appropriate to tell her all about his private hell, but he had faith in Dr. Schrantz’s methods and theories. She hadn’t ever steered him wrong and it had been her solid guidance that had helped to keep him grounded him in the weeks following his own ordeal. “I’ll think on it,” he promised. He was quiet then for a moment, thinking back on the conversation he’d had with Cassie in the little café the first time he took her to Las Vegas. “She asked me once why I worked so hard to find her when everyone else thought she was dead. I just told her that I didn’t want to tell her.”
“What reason did you give?”
“I said it was too much. For her and for me.”
Dr. Schrantz nodded and paused, in that way that therapists do, before she replied, “More for you, maybe?”
Nick chuckled. “Maybe.”
“Is it still too much, Nick? Because if it is, we should resume our sessions.”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I, uh . . . I have a girlfriend now . . .”
“That’s good,” said Dr. Schrantz approvingly.
“I was okay with telling her about the nightmares. But then . . . she already knew about my kidnapping.”
“But she’s still someone whose respect you wanted to keep. As I recall, the last time we discussed this you were concerned about your ability to maintain any kind of relationship once your partner discovered that you – if I remember your words correctly – woke up screaming like a baby who wants his mama in the middle of the night.”
Nick cleared his throat and leveled a sardonic look at the doctor. “I also said I was concerned about physically hurting anyone I was in bed with, but you had to bring up the crying baby line, didn’t you?”
She smirked. “Your words, Nick. Are the nightmares coming any less frequently?”
“Yes and no,” he replied, sounding confused, even to his own ears. “For a while they seemed to be tapering off, but I’ve had a few more than usual lately. Last month and a half, maybe? I don’t really remember them anymore, so they’re not as bothersome. Once I wake up, anyway.”
“And how are you sleeping?”
“A lot better lately,” he replied. “Although . . . you know. I have that girlfriend.”
Dr. Schrantz smiled. “I think you’re doing well, Nick. Better sleep is always a good sign, even if you’ve had more frequent disruptions in the last few weeks. With the recent changes in your life you’re bound to feel some anxiety, and that’s likely to cause sleep disruptions for anyone. And I’m glad that you brought Cassie in – we’ll get her on the right path, too.”
Nick smiled appreciatively at Dr. Schrantz as she rose to retrieve Cassie from the waiting area. When the little girl walked into the room she sat down close to Nick on the couch, leaning into him.
“Nervous?” he whispered.
“A little.”
“She’s all right, Casserole. Try not to be nervous.” He winked down at her.
“I’ll try,” she replied, smiling at her nickname. “What did you guys talk about?”
“Me,” he replied. “I was just getting her caught up on what’s been going on with me for the last couple of months.”
Dr. Schrantz sat down across from the pair and smiled comfortingly at Cassie. She struck up general conversation, then turned to the questionnaire that Cassie had filled out, and then discussed, in general terms, the night that the McBrides had been murdered and she had been kidnapped, as well as what went on afterward.
“Here’s what I think, Cassie. Nightmares are more often than not triggered by what’s happening in our subconscious. In your subconscious, there are memories and feelings that you haven’t faced since the night your family died. When you’re awake, you don’t think about those things, but when you go to sleep at night your mind takes over. When you’re feeling the same way you felt that night – scared, insecure, anxious – that’s when the nightmares happen.”
“But I feel safe with Nick,” replied Cassie in a small voice. “I feel normal. I have a home again, and my own room again. Why don’t the nightmares stop when everything’s normal again?”
Dr. Schrantz smiled. “Normal is a relative term with regard to family life,” she replied. “Everyone’s version of normal is different. But the reason the nightmares didn’t magically stop the moment you moved into Nick’s house, Cassie, is because somewhere deep in your mind, there are things about that night that still upset you. I suspect that deep down you’re upset about some other things that’ve happened to you since then, as well. We’ll talk about that night; you’ll help me understand what those things might be. I’ll help you understand what they mean and we’ll figure out how you can cope.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you come to terms with what happened and accept it. It means you’ll learn to forgive the people who murdered your family and hurt you.”
Her face scrunched up. “That won’t happen,” she declared. “They don’t deserve my forgiveness.”
Dr. Schrantz’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “We’ll work on that,” she replied.
It was a look and a phrase that Nick knew well, and he turned to look at Cassie. “You keep an eye on this one,” he told the little girl. “She’s tricky.”
Dr. Schrantz raised an eyebrow at her former patient. “Don’t listen to Nick, Cassie. I’m perfectly respectable.” Then she turned to Nick. “Strictly speaking, I don’t think this is PTSD. Emotional outbursts are common with lack of sleep and you haven’t mentioned any other telltale signs like difficulty concentrating or any avoidance symptoms.”
“Well . . . there’s one thing,” said Nick, a little uneasily, as he looked down at Cassie.
“What?” she asked, truly confused.
“The pool,” he replied. “I know you’ve only been there a day, but you didn’t want to have anything to do with the pool yesterday, and I know you used to love to swim. You told me so in the hospital when I first met you.”
Cassie’s eyes were big and almost fearful. “I just didn’t want to go out there,” she said quietly. “That’s all.”
“Have you been swimming since the night your family died, Cassie?” asked Dr. Schrantz, her eyebrow quirked.
Her face was flushed when she turned to look at the doctor. “No . . . but Miss Emily doesn’t have a pool and it’s just been a long time since I’ve been swimming.”
Dr. Schrantz nodded and paused, and Nick knew she was giving Cassie some time to think before she made any kind of reply.
“And swimming,” continued Cassie, looking at the floor, “swimming reminds me of Peter. He taught me how to swim.”
“That’s something we can work on in our sessions,” said Dr. Schrantz, smiling comfortingly. “If we work together we can make swimming something you love to do again. It doesn’t have to be a reminder of the loss of your family for the rest of your life.”
Cassie met her eyes. “Okay,” she said with a nod. “But I really just want to make the nightmares go away.”
“We can do both,” the doctor reassured her. “Right, Nick?”
“Right,” he said with a nod, and squeezed Cassie.
She turned back to Cassie. “I’d like to see you once a week,” she said. “I’ll teach you some coping skills and we can try to keep the nightmares at bay until we learn what’s causing them.” She went on to tell Nick and Cassie to develop a bedtime routine in their house and gave Cassie some ideas on how she could cope in the short term. When they left, Cassie was smiling.
“What’s the Cheshire Cat smirk for, Cassie Jane?” asked Nick, holding her hand as they strolled through the parking lot.
“You’re taking me home,” she replied.
“And?”
“You don’t have to leave,” she said simply. “Your friends are coming over to meet me.”
He stopped in the parking lot and kissed her forehead. “They’ll be your friends too, sweetness.”
She pulled him toward the truck again. “Do any of them have kids?”
“Catherine does,” he replied. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Once they reached the parking spot that contained Nick’s truck he helped her up into the cab and waited until her seatbelt was buckled. “Catherine’s daughter’s name is Lindsey. She, uh . . . she lost her dad a few years ago. She remembers what it was like . . . wanting to talk to someone her own age about it, who might understand. She’s a little older than you, but she wanted me to tell you that if you want to talk to someone who’s not an adult . . . who’d maybe understand . . . she’d love to listen.”
Cassie smiled at him, but was unsure of what to say. “But if I want to, I can always talk to you, right Nick?”
He smiled affectionately. “Right. No matter what – what my mom used to say was that I could tell her anything as long as it was the truth. So now I’m tellin’ you – you can tell me anything as long as it’s the truth.”
She nodded. “Okay. You have nice friends.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I do.” Patting her leg, he moved to shut her door and then climbed in on his own side to take them home.
The following day Nick and Cassie picked his mother up from the airport. Jillian Stokes was always dressed to the nines, no matter what, so he told Cassie to put on her best dress, and put himself into a pair of pressed khakis and a polo shirt. Cassie’s best dress turned out to be a casual knit arrangement in pale pink, which Nick recognized from the day he first saw her at the court house. It wouldn’t be considered “Sunday best” by Jillian’s standards, but he figured she’d want to take her shopping anyway.
Once she collected her suitcases, Jillian was able to locate her son quite easily – he was relatively tall, and no matter his age, his face was like a beacon to her. She approached anxiously, noting the pride in her baby boy’s smile, and when the crowd thinned and parted she beheld the little slip of a girl holding his hand, her round blue eyes excited.
Like her husband had done a few days prior, she momentarily ignored Nick. “Hello,” she said to the smiling girl who had a tight grip on her son’s hand. “You must be Cassie.”
She nodded and smiled fully at Jillian. “Yeah.”
“I’m Jillian, Nick’s mom. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” said the very properly dressed lady, holding out her hand.
Cassie took it, surprised at how soft it was. It made her relax. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” said Cassie. “You look a lot like Nicky.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment – my Nicky’s a very handsome man.” She turned to her son then, and embraced him tightly. “It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too, Mama,” he replied.
“What are our plans for today?” asked Jillian once they parted.
“The only thing I have planned is dinner,” said Nick, “so whatever you want to do is good with us.”
Jillian beamed at her son, and then at the little girl by his side. “With us,” she repeated, pleased. “That sounds so nice, Nicky.”
He turned pink and kissed her cheek. “Let’s go,” he said, taking her suitcases.
When they arrived at Nick’s house it was early afternoon. Jillian indicated that she wanted a little time to get to know Cassie, and once she was settled and refreshed she brought several books down to the living room where Cassie and Nick were reading. The son was shooed off the couch and the mother took his place.
Disinterested in the forensics journal on his lap, Nick watched from the window seat as Jillian handed Cassie the books, the first of what would prove many gifts to her fifteenth grandchild, and listened as they happily conversed about school and Nancy Drew and being in plays.
After a while Nick rose and offered his mother a cup of tea. She accepted and followed him so that she could learn where he kept things. In the kitchen, he set the rarely-used kettle on the stove and retrieved a mug and the tea while she watched.
“It’s a beautiful house,” she offered as they waited for the water to boil. “You and Audra did well.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I really like it. I thought it’d feel much too big, but it’s workin’ for me.”
Jillian smiled at her son. “It’s good to see you settled down,” she said, “even if it’s so far from home.”
“I was thinkin’ we could take a vacation right before school starts next year,” said Nick. “I’d like it if Cassie could come visit the ranch – she’d love the horses, and we could camp . . . like we used to do sometimes as kids. It’d be nice if she could meet all her new cousins.”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll arrange it with the girls,” offered Jillian. Nick nodded his thanks, and she turned to put a tea bag in the waiting cup. “So, what have you got planned for dinner, Nicky?”
“We’ve been invited to the neighbor’s for dinner,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
“Oh – have they got kids Cassie’s age?”
Nick looked up at her, pausing a moment before he replied, “The neighbor’s a single woman.”
Hoisting an eyebrow, Jillian asked, “How single is she?”
“She’s got a guy,” he offered with a smirk.
His mother smiled. “So there are two girls in your life.”
“Yes, ma’am. Two very special girls.”
“What’s her name?”
“Elizabeth.”
She nodded, noting his flushed cheeks. “Tell me one thing about Miss Elizabeth that I’ll like.”
His smile deepening, Nick replied, “You’ll like a lot of things about her.”
“For example, Nicholas?” asked Jillian, slight exasperation in her tone.
“She loves Cassie,” he said, knowing that was more than likely uppermost on the list of what she wanted to know.
She nodded approvingly. “That’s a good start. How old is Miss Elizabeth?”
“She’s forty-two.”
Since Jillian wouldn’t have asked unless she expected opposite numbers, this surprised her, and she lowered her chin. “Is she a divorcee?”
“No, ma’am. She’s never been married.”
Jillian looked horrified. “At forty-two? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothin’,” he replied, shaking his head. “She’s perfect.”
“Well . . . tell me about her,” said Jillian. “Your perfect Miss Elizabeth.”
“What’ve you heard from Cisco and Audra?”
She shook her head. “Audra says she hasn’t heard from you much in the last month and a half. Your father hasn’t said anything. How long’s this been going on?”
“I’ve known her for a long time,” he replied. “It’s only been recently that we’ve been seeing each other.”
His mother looked interested. “Long enough then, I reckon. Did your daddy meet her?” Nick nodded, turning to remove the now-boiling kettle off the burner. “What did he think?”
Nick was quiet a moment as he poured the water into Jillian’s mug. “He said he liked her, and that you’d be pleased as punch.”
She smiled at him when he set the kettle back down on the stove. “You know I’m gonna make that decision for myself, right Nicky?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, “but I have no doubt you’ll like her.”
“That’s what Billy said about Missy,” she reminded him. Jillian was not fond of her daughter-in-law.
“Hey, now,” he said quickly, holding up a finger and shaking it – as much as he dared – at his mother, “don’t go comparing my Lizzy to that so-called woman.”
“As long as she has a job, it’ll be an improvement, so let’s start there,” said Jillian, her lips pursed at his finger.
Slightly sheepish, he put his hand back on the counter. Then he smiled. “As a matter of fact, she’s a lawyer.”
“I’m listening,” she replied, turning to her tea cup. “What kind of a lawyer?”
“She’s the Clark County DA.”
Jillian stopped bobbing the tea bag in her mug and turned toward her son. “Are you serious?”
“Would I lie to my mama?”
“About somethin’ like this, you better not,” she replied. “You may be all grown up, but I’d still take you over my knee.”
Nick smiled. “I’m perfectly serious. She’s smart, focused, dedicated . . . even-tempered, if you don’t piss her off. And as if that weren’t enough, she loves Cassie.”
“And you love her,” surmised Jillian, whose eyes were full. “Oh, Nicky . . . have all my years of waiting for a decent daughter-in-law finally paid off?”
“You’re jumpin’ the gun a bit, Mama,” he said quietly. “But maybe.”
“Does she make you happy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I’ll wait, patiently, a little longer.”
Nick nodded. “Okay,” he replied. Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek, and they re-joined Cassie in the living room.
___________________________
(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
Dr. Maria Schrantz was a tall, slender woman with dark hair, porcelain skin, and striking blue eyes. During his first session with her, Nick had taken incredible comfort in the kindness of those eyes. His first thought upon meeting her was that if the eyes truly were the windows to the soul, then sweet Jesus did she have a beautiful soul. But that had been not much more than a week after he had been yanked by a rope out of a dirt-filled box as a bomb erupted in his wake, so any distraction was more than welcome. She was as insightful as she was calm and even-tempered, and had an almost ethereal quality about her.
The morning following Cassie’s nightmare was a Saturday, but Nick called her office anyway, knowing that she had occasional Saturday sessions. She invited them both in to talk to her that morning. She felt it was important for Cassie to be seen as soon as possible.
They arrived at ten o’clock, and once Cassie was introduced to her, Dr. Schrantz wanted to talk to Nick first. “Just for a few minutes,” she was quick to assure the little girl when she gave a worried look to Nick. “Besides, I need you to fill this out for me.” She handed Cassie a sheet of paper clipped to a clipboard and a pen. “This will just help me learn about you and how you’re feeling.”
Cassie nodded and took the clipboard, having done this when she was first delivered to the care of the Clark County Department of Family Services.
Dr. Schrantz followed Nick into her office and sat down in her chair while he took a familiar position on her couch.
“How have you been, Nick?” she asked with a pleasant smile.
“Great,” he replied, and unlike the other times he’d sat in the same chair and declared the same thing, he now had a look about him that made Dr. Schrantz believe it.
“I remember you telling me about Cassie’s case in one of the last sessions we had,” she began, and then entreated him to tell the remainder of the story. She listened placidly while he told her, and then asked, “Does Cassie know about your kidnapping?”
He shook his head. “No,” he admitted.
“Had it not been for that event, you may never have met Cassie. Don’t you think it’s important for her to understand your motivation?”
Nick was quiet. “I just thought . . . she’s just a kid. Why burden her with stories of such . . . malice?”
“You and I have talked about your relationship with your dad,” said the good doctor. “You’ve said that you found it frustrating that he never opened up to you . . .that you didn’t understand his motivation.”
Nick understood where she was going, but was doubtful. “This is a little different, don’t you think?”
“I don’t think anything can be harmed by telling her what happened to you. We keep certain things from our children in order to protect their innocence, but there’s a part of Cassie’s innocence that’s already lost and keeping this from her won’t bring it back. I’m not suggesting that you should make a production of telling her or that you should tell her every detail. I’m just saying that if it should ever come up, you should consider it. Just keep in mind how much it hurt to think that there was something wrong with you, as a child trying to understand his father.”
Looking away, Nick thought about it. He couldn’t imagine any circumstance in which it would ever be appropriate to tell her all about his private hell, but he had faith in Dr. Schrantz’s methods and theories. She hadn’t ever steered him wrong and it had been her solid guidance that had helped to keep him grounded him in the weeks following his own ordeal. “I’ll think on it,” he promised. He was quiet then for a moment, thinking back on the conversation he’d had with Cassie in the little café the first time he took her to Las Vegas. “She asked me once why I worked so hard to find her when everyone else thought she was dead. I just told her that I didn’t want to tell her.”
“What reason did you give?”
“I said it was too much. For her and for me.”
Dr. Schrantz nodded and paused, in that way that therapists do, before she replied, “More for you, maybe?”
Nick chuckled. “Maybe.”
“Is it still too much, Nick? Because if it is, we should resume our sessions.”
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “I, uh . . . I have a girlfriend now . . .”
“That’s good,” said Dr. Schrantz approvingly.
“I was okay with telling her about the nightmares. But then . . . she already knew about my kidnapping.”
“But she’s still someone whose respect you wanted to keep. As I recall, the last time we discussed this you were concerned about your ability to maintain any kind of relationship once your partner discovered that you – if I remember your words correctly – woke up screaming like a baby who wants his mama in the middle of the night.”
Nick cleared his throat and leveled a sardonic look at the doctor. “I also said I was concerned about physically hurting anyone I was in bed with, but you had to bring up the crying baby line, didn’t you?”
She smirked. “Your words, Nick. Are the nightmares coming any less frequently?”
“Yes and no,” he replied, sounding confused, even to his own ears. “For a while they seemed to be tapering off, but I’ve had a few more than usual lately. Last month and a half, maybe? I don’t really remember them anymore, so they’re not as bothersome. Once I wake up, anyway.”
“And how are you sleeping?”
“A lot better lately,” he replied. “Although . . . you know. I have that girlfriend.”
Dr. Schrantz smiled. “I think you’re doing well, Nick. Better sleep is always a good sign, even if you’ve had more frequent disruptions in the last few weeks. With the recent changes in your life you’re bound to feel some anxiety, and that’s likely to cause sleep disruptions for anyone. And I’m glad that you brought Cassie in – we’ll get her on the right path, too.”
Nick smiled appreciatively at Dr. Schrantz as she rose to retrieve Cassie from the waiting area. When the little girl walked into the room she sat down close to Nick on the couch, leaning into him.
“Nervous?” he whispered.
“A little.”
“She’s all right, Casserole. Try not to be nervous.” He winked down at her.
“I’ll try,” she replied, smiling at her nickname. “What did you guys talk about?”
“Me,” he replied. “I was just getting her caught up on what’s been going on with me for the last couple of months.”
Dr. Schrantz sat down across from the pair and smiled comfortingly at Cassie. She struck up general conversation, then turned to the questionnaire that Cassie had filled out, and then discussed, in general terms, the night that the McBrides had been murdered and she had been kidnapped, as well as what went on afterward.
“Here’s what I think, Cassie. Nightmares are more often than not triggered by what’s happening in our subconscious. In your subconscious, there are memories and feelings that you haven’t faced since the night your family died. When you’re awake, you don’t think about those things, but when you go to sleep at night your mind takes over. When you’re feeling the same way you felt that night – scared, insecure, anxious – that’s when the nightmares happen.”
“But I feel safe with Nick,” replied Cassie in a small voice. “I feel normal. I have a home again, and my own room again. Why don’t the nightmares stop when everything’s normal again?”
Dr. Schrantz smiled. “Normal is a relative term with regard to family life,” she replied. “Everyone’s version of normal is different. But the reason the nightmares didn’t magically stop the moment you moved into Nick’s house, Cassie, is because somewhere deep in your mind, there are things about that night that still upset you. I suspect that deep down you’re upset about some other things that’ve happened to you since then, as well. We’ll talk about that night; you’ll help me understand what those things might be. I’ll help you understand what they mean and we’ll figure out how you can cope.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means you come to terms with what happened and accept it. It means you’ll learn to forgive the people who murdered your family and hurt you.”
Her face scrunched up. “That won’t happen,” she declared. “They don’t deserve my forgiveness.”
Dr. Schrantz’s eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. “We’ll work on that,” she replied.
It was a look and a phrase that Nick knew well, and he turned to look at Cassie. “You keep an eye on this one,” he told the little girl. “She’s tricky.”
Dr. Schrantz raised an eyebrow at her former patient. “Don’t listen to Nick, Cassie. I’m perfectly respectable.” Then she turned to Nick. “Strictly speaking, I don’t think this is PTSD. Emotional outbursts are common with lack of sleep and you haven’t mentioned any other telltale signs like difficulty concentrating or any avoidance symptoms.”
“Well . . . there’s one thing,” said Nick, a little uneasily, as he looked down at Cassie.
“What?” she asked, truly confused.
“The pool,” he replied. “I know you’ve only been there a day, but you didn’t want to have anything to do with the pool yesterday, and I know you used to love to swim. You told me so in the hospital when I first met you.”
Cassie’s eyes were big and almost fearful. “I just didn’t want to go out there,” she said quietly. “That’s all.”
“Have you been swimming since the night your family died, Cassie?” asked Dr. Schrantz, her eyebrow quirked.
Her face was flushed when she turned to look at the doctor. “No . . . but Miss Emily doesn’t have a pool and it’s just been a long time since I’ve been swimming.”
Dr. Schrantz nodded and paused, and Nick knew she was giving Cassie some time to think before she made any kind of reply.
“And swimming,” continued Cassie, looking at the floor, “swimming reminds me of Peter. He taught me how to swim.”
“That’s something we can work on in our sessions,” said Dr. Schrantz, smiling comfortingly. “If we work together we can make swimming something you love to do again. It doesn’t have to be a reminder of the loss of your family for the rest of your life.”
Cassie met her eyes. “Okay,” she said with a nod. “But I really just want to make the nightmares go away.”
“We can do both,” the doctor reassured her. “Right, Nick?”
“Right,” he said with a nod, and squeezed Cassie.
She turned back to Cassie. “I’d like to see you once a week,” she said. “I’ll teach you some coping skills and we can try to keep the nightmares at bay until we learn what’s causing them.” She went on to tell Nick and Cassie to develop a bedtime routine in their house and gave Cassie some ideas on how she could cope in the short term. When they left, Cassie was smiling.
“What’s the Cheshire Cat smirk for, Cassie Jane?” asked Nick, holding her hand as they strolled through the parking lot.
“You’re taking me home,” she replied.
“And?”
“You don’t have to leave,” she said simply. “Your friends are coming over to meet me.”
He stopped in the parking lot and kissed her forehead. “They’ll be your friends too, sweetness.”
She pulled him toward the truck again. “Do any of them have kids?”
“Catherine does,” he replied. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that.” Once they reached the parking spot that contained Nick’s truck he helped her up into the cab and waited until her seatbelt was buckled. “Catherine’s daughter’s name is Lindsey. She, uh . . . she lost her dad a few years ago. She remembers what it was like . . . wanting to talk to someone her own age about it, who might understand. She’s a little older than you, but she wanted me to tell you that if you want to talk to someone who’s not an adult . . . who’d maybe understand . . . she’d love to listen.”
Cassie smiled at him, but was unsure of what to say. “But if I want to, I can always talk to you, right Nick?”
He smiled affectionately. “Right. No matter what – what my mom used to say was that I could tell her anything as long as it was the truth. So now I’m tellin’ you – you can tell me anything as long as it’s the truth.”
She nodded. “Okay. You have nice friends.”
He nodded. “Yeah, I do.” Patting her leg, he moved to shut her door and then climbed in on his own side to take them home.
*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*~~*
The following day Nick and Cassie picked his mother up from the airport. Jillian Stokes was always dressed to the nines, no matter what, so he told Cassie to put on her best dress, and put himself into a pair of pressed khakis and a polo shirt. Cassie’s best dress turned out to be a casual knit arrangement in pale pink, which Nick recognized from the day he first saw her at the court house. It wouldn’t be considered “Sunday best” by Jillian’s standards, but he figured she’d want to take her shopping anyway.
Once she collected her suitcases, Jillian was able to locate her son quite easily – he was relatively tall, and no matter his age, his face was like a beacon to her. She approached anxiously, noting the pride in her baby boy’s smile, and when the crowd thinned and parted she beheld the little slip of a girl holding his hand, her round blue eyes excited.
Like her husband had done a few days prior, she momentarily ignored Nick. “Hello,” she said to the smiling girl who had a tight grip on her son’s hand. “You must be Cassie.”
She nodded and smiled fully at Jillian. “Yeah.”
“I’m Jillian, Nick’s mom. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” said the very properly dressed lady, holding out her hand.
Cassie took it, surprised at how soft it was. It made her relax. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” said Cassie. “You look a lot like Nicky.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment – my Nicky’s a very handsome man.” She turned to her son then, and embraced him tightly. “It’s good to see you.”
“Good to see you, too, Mama,” he replied.
“What are our plans for today?” asked Jillian once they parted.
“The only thing I have planned is dinner,” said Nick, “so whatever you want to do is good with us.”
Jillian beamed at her son, and then at the little girl by his side. “With us,” she repeated, pleased. “That sounds so nice, Nicky.”
He turned pink and kissed her cheek. “Let’s go,” he said, taking her suitcases.
When they arrived at Nick’s house it was early afternoon. Jillian indicated that she wanted a little time to get to know Cassie, and once she was settled and refreshed she brought several books down to the living room where Cassie and Nick were reading. The son was shooed off the couch and the mother took his place.
Disinterested in the forensics journal on his lap, Nick watched from the window seat as Jillian handed Cassie the books, the first of what would prove many gifts to her fifteenth grandchild, and listened as they happily conversed about school and Nancy Drew and being in plays.
After a while Nick rose and offered his mother a cup of tea. She accepted and followed him so that she could learn where he kept things. In the kitchen, he set the rarely-used kettle on the stove and retrieved a mug and the tea while she watched.
“It’s a beautiful house,” she offered as they waited for the water to boil. “You and Audra did well.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “I really like it. I thought it’d feel much too big, but it’s workin’ for me.”
Jillian smiled at her son. “It’s good to see you settled down,” she said, “even if it’s so far from home.”
“I was thinkin’ we could take a vacation right before school starts next year,” said Nick. “I’d like it if Cassie could come visit the ranch – she’d love the horses, and we could camp . . . like we used to do sometimes as kids. It’d be nice if she could meet all her new cousins.”
“That sounds perfect. I’ll arrange it with the girls,” offered Jillian. Nick nodded his thanks, and she turned to put a tea bag in the waiting cup. “So, what have you got planned for dinner, Nicky?”
“We’ve been invited to the neighbor’s for dinner,” he said, not meeting her eyes.
“Oh – have they got kids Cassie’s age?”
Nick looked up at her, pausing a moment before he replied, “The neighbor’s a single woman.”
Hoisting an eyebrow, Jillian asked, “How single is she?”
“She’s got a guy,” he offered with a smirk.
His mother smiled. “So there are two girls in your life.”
“Yes, ma’am. Two very special girls.”
“What’s her name?”
“Elizabeth.”
She nodded, noting his flushed cheeks. “Tell me one thing about Miss Elizabeth that I’ll like.”
His smile deepening, Nick replied, “You’ll like a lot of things about her.”
“For example, Nicholas?” asked Jillian, slight exasperation in her tone.
“She loves Cassie,” he said, knowing that was more than likely uppermost on the list of what she wanted to know.
She nodded approvingly. “That’s a good start. How old is Miss Elizabeth?”
“She’s forty-two.”
Since Jillian wouldn’t have asked unless she expected opposite numbers, this surprised her, and she lowered her chin. “Is she a divorcee?”
“No, ma’am. She’s never been married.”
Jillian looked horrified. “At forty-two? What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothin’,” he replied, shaking his head. “She’s perfect.”
“Well . . . tell me about her,” said Jillian. “Your perfect Miss Elizabeth.”
“What’ve you heard from Cisco and Audra?”
She shook her head. “Audra says she hasn’t heard from you much in the last month and a half. Your father hasn’t said anything. How long’s this been going on?”
“I’ve known her for a long time,” he replied. “It’s only been recently that we’ve been seeing each other.”
His mother looked interested. “Long enough then, I reckon. Did your daddy meet her?” Nick nodded, turning to remove the now-boiling kettle off the burner. “What did he think?”
Nick was quiet a moment as he poured the water into Jillian’s mug. “He said he liked her, and that you’d be pleased as punch.”
She smiled at him when he set the kettle back down on the stove. “You know I’m gonna make that decision for myself, right Nicky?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied, “but I have no doubt you’ll like her.”
“That’s what Billy said about Missy,” she reminded him. Jillian was not fond of her daughter-in-law.
“Hey, now,” he said quickly, holding up a finger and shaking it – as much as he dared – at his mother, “don’t go comparing my Lizzy to that so-called woman.”
“As long as she has a job, it’ll be an improvement, so let’s start there,” said Jillian, her lips pursed at his finger.
Slightly sheepish, he put his hand back on the counter. Then he smiled. “As a matter of fact, she’s a lawyer.”
“I’m listening,” she replied, turning to her tea cup. “What kind of a lawyer?”
“She’s the Clark County DA.”
Jillian stopped bobbing the tea bag in her mug and turned toward her son. “Are you serious?”
“Would I lie to my mama?”
“About somethin’ like this, you better not,” she replied. “You may be all grown up, but I’d still take you over my knee.”
Nick smiled. “I’m perfectly serious. She’s smart, focused, dedicated . . . even-tempered, if you don’t piss her off. And as if that weren’t enough, she loves Cassie.”
“And you love her,” surmised Jillian, whose eyes were full. “Oh, Nicky . . . have all my years of waiting for a decent daughter-in-law finally paid off?”
“You’re jumpin’ the gun a bit, Mama,” he said quietly. “But maybe.”
“Does she make you happy?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Then I’ll wait, patiently, a little longer.”
Nick nodded. “Okay,” he replied. Then he leaned over and kissed her cheek, and they re-joined Cassie in the living room.
___________________________
(c) 2008 J. H. Thompson
Last edited:
Speedystokesgirl
Judge
Whoo hoo, an update!
Ok, I've said it once, I've said it twice, heck I've said it alot: another great chapter.
It's good that Nick is having Cassie go to therapy. It will do her good. Loving the doctor standing her ground with Nick. I think she's right, Nick should tell Cassie what happened to him. He doesn't have to go into great detail, and it would probably do Cassie some good.
So now it's mom's turn. She's gonna have fun 'torturing' her son, isn't she? You know Jillian might want to swear Nick in before she starts to interrogate him. :lol: Awww, such a motherly thing to do. Can't wait to see her interact with Elizabeth.
I'm thinking mom wanted to shout at the top of her lungs, that her youngest has found someone decent, respectable. Even if that was a little pompous attitude on her part, though I could totally see it.
Ok, we didn't miss the gang meeting Cassie, did we? I hope not.
Update soon, don't keep us waiting! :lol:
Ok, I've said it once, I've said it twice, heck I've said it alot: another great chapter.
It's good that Nick is having Cassie go to therapy. It will do her good. Loving the doctor standing her ground with Nick. I think she's right, Nick should tell Cassie what happened to him. He doesn't have to go into great detail, and it would probably do Cassie some good.
So now it's mom's turn. She's gonna have fun 'torturing' her son, isn't she? You know Jillian might want to swear Nick in before she starts to interrogate him. :lol: Awww, such a motherly thing to do. Can't wait to see her interact with Elizabeth.
I'm thinking mom wanted to shout at the top of her lungs, that her youngest has found someone decent, respectable. Even if that was a little pompous attitude on her part, though I could totally see it.
Ok, we didn't miss the gang meeting Cassie, did we? I hope not.
Update soon, don't keep us waiting! :lol:
Wonderful chapter. Loved Nick telling the therapist she had to go and mention the crying like a baby for his mama. :lol: Too funny.
Loved Jillian's reaction upon learing Lizzy's a DA and then her saying if Nick was lying to her she'd still take him over her knee. hehe.
Cassie and Nick are so sweet.
Loved Jillian's reaction upon learing Lizzy's a DA and then her saying if Nick was lying to her she'd still take him over her knee. hehe.
Cassie and Nick are so sweet.
Lovely update Jacqui Nick having some time with his mom was nice. Loved the scene with the therapist. Now those would have been interesting sessions to be a fly on the wall. Maybe that could be your next story Jacqui And yes Nick Cassie does need to know about your kidnapping. Remember Pinkie Swears
I think Jillian will love Lizzy Looks forward to the meeting and your next chapter.
Nick having some time with his mom was nice. Loved the scene with the therapist. Now those would have been interesting sessions to be a fly on the wall. Maybe that could be your next story Jacqui And yes Nick Cassie does need to know about your kidnapping. Remember Pinkie Swears I think Jillian will love Lizzy
Looks forward to the meeting and your next chapter.