To mark the 20th anniversary of Footprints, I present a new and (I hope!) improved version of the very first episode, which was originally posted in October 1997. This “remixed” version tells the same story as the official pilot episode, though fleshed-out in a variety of ways, and has been posted in two separate parts. Part 1 is here. If you dare, you can reference the original premiere episode here.

“It’s about work,” Molly says. Paula waits, vacillating between excitement and dread, as she does every time one of the children has something to share.

Before Molly can say anything further, though, they hear the front door opening once again.

“Bill, is that you?” Paula asks loudly.

“It is!” Moments later, the patriarch of the Fisher family enters the kitchen. In his late 50s, Bill Fisher is a sturdy man who, despite his once-brown hair having been washed over into a calming gray, still moves as if he were 30.

“Molly!” he exclaims when he catches sight of his daughter. “Here to help out with the dinner party?”

“Yeah, but I actually just got here.” She pauses to give her father a hug.

“Molly was about to tell me some big news,” Paula explains.

Bill joins Paula at the counter and folds his arms. “Is that so?”

“Yeah. They called me into H.R. today… and told me that they’re keeping me on as a full-time assistant!”

“Oh, honey! That’s wonderful,” Paula says.

“That’s great!” Bill adds. “I know you were getting tired of temping.”

“Yeah, but it’s all worth it if it got me a full-time job — and not just any job, but a job at a major clothing company. Charlene Powers has clothing in so many department stores.”

“I have a few of their blouses myself,” Paula says.

Bill gives Molly another hug. “I’m so proud of you, achieving your dreams like this.”

“Well, being an assistant in the marketing department isn’t quite my dream, but it gets me one step closer to designing. It was actually someone from the design team who helped me get this position, though. That’ll be a great connection to have.”

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?” Bill asks.

“This guy, Craig. He’s been so nice. He told me there was an opening and offered to walk my résumé into H.R. I really owe him.”

Paula turns back over her shoulder as she empties a bowl of potato skins into the trash. “Sounds like a little thank-you gift is in order.”

“I’ll have to do something nice for him. You’re right,” Molly says.

“And we’ll have to toast to your big news once everyone gets here.” Bill is bursting with pride. “There are so many exciting things happening in this family.”

—–

Red and blue police lights swirl around outside the bakery, bouncing from the side of one building to the next. Sarah stands with arms folded, watching the busy scene play out. Two uniforms lead the robber, his ski mask long since discarded, out of the bakery, with his arms pinned and cuffed behind his back.

He sneers at Sarah as he is walked past her. She does her best to maintain a stoic expression of non-reaction.

Across the street, a single news van is parked askew. A cameraman films as a female reporter with overly layered chestnut hair interviews a man whom Sarah recognizes, although they have never officially met. With the crime scene activity swirling around her, Sarah watches the interview play out. The subject is tall — a little over six feet, she would estimate — and has a full head of black hair. His broad back and athletic build are apparent even through his gray blazer.

When the interview concludes, Sarah is surprised when the man turns around, scans the scene, and then looks directly at her. Her confusion escalates as he begins to approach her.

“Fisher, right?” he says.

“Uh, yeah. Sarah Fisher.”

“Sounds like that was one hell of an arrest you made in there. Unarmed, too.” He extends his hand. “Captain Taylor. Brent Taylor.”

She reaches out and takes his hand. As they shake, Sarah is certain that she feels an invisible electricity pulsing between them.

“I know,” she says, but she immediately regrets how it comes out. “I mean, I remember you coming to speak to us when we were in the academy.” It was only a few months ago that she was still in training to become an officer, but so much has happened since then that it might as well have been another lifetime.

He uses his thumb to indicate the news van. “I hope I didn’t steal your thunder there. They asked for someone who was overseeing the scene.”

“I don’t need to be on the news.” She grins as she shakes her head. “Definitely not why I became a cop.”

“You’d be surprised how many people do it for the accolades and the interviews.” He pauses to watch the activity going on through the bakery’s floor-to-ceiling front window. “You were in there when he came in? Or did you see from outside?”

“I was inside. Waiting at a table. Actually…” She peers into the bakery. “I was supposed to be picking something up. I guess I should see where it went.”

“What was it?”

“A cake. For my mom.” Her cheeks sting even as she speaks the words. “I offered to pick it up on my way home. She’s throwing a dinner party tonight.”

“Here, let’s go inside and find out,” Brent says, as he begins to lead the way back into the crime scene.

—–

At King’s Bay Memorial Hospital, Jason stands at a payphone just off the emergency room waiting area.

“We’ll see you in a little bit,” he says, his voice catching in his throat. “I’m really sorry.”

When he returns to the waiting room, he finds Sandy sitting in a plastic chair with a small paper cup of water.

She looks up at him. “Did you get Don and Helen on the phone?”

“Yeah. They’re coming down as soon as they can.” Jason sinks into the chair beside her. “I can’t believe I dropped her.”

“Jason…” Sandy turns to him with compassion. “It’s a risky sport. Accidents happen.”

He drops his face down into his hands. “We should’ve just stopped for the day. We didn’t need to do the lift again. Courtney said she felt fine with it.”

“True,” Sandy says as she carefully selects her next words. “But this is a partnership. You felt shaky about the lift–”

“And I was shaky! I tripped and dropped her.”

“Blaming yourself is not going to change what happened.”

All he can do is shake his head sadly. They sit there in silence until a nurse in blue scrubs approaches.

“Are you here with Courtney Chase?” the Japanese woman asks.

They both scramble to their feet as they answer affirmatively.

“I can take you back to see her now, if you’d like.”

“How is she?” Jason asks feverishly as they follow the nurse. “How bad is it?”

“I’ll let Courtney tell you herself.” The nurse stops outside a patient room and steps aside to grant them entrance.

Though Sandy enters, Jason freezes in the doorway. Courtney is already in a hospital bed, with a strap from the ceiling holding her left leg aloft. She wears a standard-issue white hospital gown, and the makeup that she was wearing earlier has morphed into upsetting streaks of dark color that run down her cheeks. Her eyes are puffy, though she is not currently crying.

“Hi, Court,” Sandy says as she stands at her pupil’s bedside. “How are you doing?”

“They just showed me the X-rays. I have a broken tibia.” She swallows hard, clearly emotional over this. “The doctor says I won’t skate for at least six months.”

Jason’s stomach twists in pain at the confirmation of what he feared.

“Your parents are on their way. I just talked to them,” he says from the doorway. “Court, I am… I’m so sorry. This is all my fault.”

Sandy looks sharply at him, though her face is filled with empathy. “Jason–”

He cuts her off: “No. I was the one pushing to do that lift again. I’m the one who dropped her.” He forces himself to look his friend and partner in the eyes. “And if you never forgive me for this… well, I get it.”

—–

“Welcome home!” Paula exclaims as Tim and Claire set their luggage by the front door. She wastes no time in smothering them with hugs.

“Our flight wound up being delayed,” Tim explains with a sigh, “so we just thought it would be easier to bring our luggage here rather than go home to drop it off first.”

“Sorry if we held everything up,” Claire says. “Everyone must be here already.”

“Actually, it’s just Molly so far,” Paula responds. “She’s been helping us in the kitchen. Sarah was supposed to come straight from work, but I have no idea where she is. I do wish she’d get one of those cellular phones…”

Bill enters from the dining room, where he has been setting the table. He holds a stack of cloth napkins in one hand.

“Jason called a little while ago,” he tells his son and daughter-in-law. “He’s at the hospital.”

“What happened?” Tim asks.

“There was an accident,” Bill says. “Courtney took a really bad fall.”

“Is she all right?” Claire asks. “I can call the hospital and try to find out more…”

“Jason said that he would fill us in as soon as they know more. But thank you.” Bill comes over and gives her a hug. “We’re glad you two are back.”

“Us, too,” Claire says. Tim eyes her uncertainly as he gives his father a pat on the back in greeting.

“How was Chicago?” Paula asks.

“It’s a great city, and we found some promising condos,” Tim says. As he speaks, he watches Claire’s reaction; something about her still appears unsettled. “But I still don’t have an offer yet, so this is all theoretical.”

“You’d know I’d love nothing more than for this company to offer you a fancy new job,” Paula says, “but I can’t say I’d be heartbroken if you decided to stay in King’s Bay. Especially with our first grandchild on the way.”

Claire gently rubs her bulging stomach. “You never know. Nothing is decided yet.”

“Why don’t we go into the kitchen and see Molly?” Tim suggests, not wanting to dwell upon the subject. “And check out what’s on the menu for tonight.”

“Oh, you’ll love it!” Paula says as she leads them to the kitchen.

—–

Jason hovers in the doorway of the hospital room. A significant part of him wants to bolt, to get out of here and away from this — as if physically removing himself might somehow erase the reality of what has happened. But as he looks at Courtney in the hospital bed, in pain and with so much uncertainty ahead of her, he knows that this embarrassment is the least that he can endure in return.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Courtney says, her voice its familiar, bossy self. “It was an accident.” Off his silence, she raises an eyebrow. “It was an accident, wasn’t it?”

“Yes! How can you be joking about this?”

She gestures at her elevated leg. “Not much else I can do. Come here.”

He hesitates, but with both Courtney and Sandy watching him intently, he feels as if he has no choice but to approach the bed.

“The doctor doesn’t think they need to operate, though,” Courtney says. “So that’s good.”

“Still…” He lets out a pained sigh. “I was the one pushing to try the lift again. I’m the one who dropped you. And I’m the reason we’re going to miss Regionals — and the entire season.”

“These things happen,” Sandy interjects.

“Jay. Seriously.” She motions for him to come nearer; he does so cautiously, as if his very presence might harm her further. “In all these years, this is the first time something like this has happened… aside from the time I cut your leg during a sit spin…”

“If I’m not mistaken,” Sandy says, “I also remember you getting spraining your wrist because someone tripped you during a spiral sequence.”

Courtney shoots a faux-irritated look at their coach. “We didn’t have to mention that.” Then she laughs. “But for real. This was an accident. Putting the blame on you does no one any good.”

“You seriously aren’t mad? How many painkillers are you on?” he asks. As close of friends as they are, Jason has always been a little skittish around Courtney’s demanding side. Raised as an only child, she tends to dig in her heels until she gets what she wants — and when things don’t go her way, she will let everyone know.

She tilts her head, dark hair spilling over one shoulder. “I couldn’t be mad at you. Not over this.”

For a split-second, he sees something in her expression, something that he has noticed a few times recently. Something different than the vibe that they have grown up sharing. But as soon as he sees it, it is gone, and he is left wondering if he imagined it entirely.

“Besides, when my mom gets here, I’m sure she’ll have plenty to say,” Courtney adds. “I’ll do what I can to protect you.”

“The wrath of Helen Chase!” Sandy says. “Beware!”

They all share a laugh, and Jason feels his heart rate slowing and the knot in his stomach loosening ever-so-slightly. When a doctor appears at the door, he asks them to step outside for a moment. They assure Courtney that they will be back soon and move to the hallway before the door to her room is closed.

“Courtney is going to be all right,” Sandy tells him. “Do not beat yourself up over this.”

“I just can’t believe our season is wrecked, after all the work we’ve put into this. I mean, I guess I did this as much to myself as to her, because it’s my career, too—”

“Jason.” With Jason quieted, Sandy hesitates; he can see that she has something more to say, but it takes several seconds for her to produce the words. “You know that I love both of you like my own children, but there’s something I need to say to you strictly as a coach.”

That knot pulls tight again. “What?”

“Courtney has some serious recovery ahead of her. It could be an entire season, or two, or…” She trails off rather than voice the grimmer possibilities. “I think it would be a mistake to sideline your own career because Courtney is hurt.”

The full meaning of what she’s saying takes a moment to sink in.

“What are you saying?”

“Purely as a professional,” she says, “and someone playing the long game as a coach… you’re a very talented skater in a position to break out nationally on the Senior level. You don’t need to be on hiatus while Courtney is out. In fact, I think it would be a mistake.”

“You want me to skate with someone else?” He shakes his head forcefully. “No way. I couldn’t do that to her.”

“We don’t need to talk about it any further tonight, and we definitely don’t need to make any hasty decisions. But I wanted to plant that seed. Think about it. Talk to your parents about it. There are more female pairs skaters out there than there are males. We could find you a viable new partner without a lot of trouble.” He can tell that she is tortured by the situation as she continues, “This could be the difference between achieving what you’ve worked for all these years or hanging up your skates entirely.”

“I couldn’t…”

“Just keep it in mind, okay?” She embraces him, the comfortable, reassuring embrace of a surrogate parent. “This is all going to work out.”

He allows the idea to echo in his head, but even that doesn’t make it seem any more likely.

—–

“That’s wild. I love that place!” Brent says. “I’m in there all the time. It’s great that it’s your dad’s.”

“The whole time I was growing up, he slaved away in other people’s restaurants,” Sarah says. “Then, when I was in high school, he decided to make the leap and open his own one. I think he worked every single day for two or three years, but it was worth it.”

They are seated inside the bakery, each cradling a styrofoam cup of coffee. On the table beside Sarah is a box containing a replacement cake, after the original order’s frosting was smudged and splattered across the inside of the box during the robbery.

“It’s a great restaurant,” Brent comments. “And being down on the pier like that — it’s really…” The sentence fades off as he searches for the correct word.

“Peaceful.”

His face lights up. “Exactly. Being able to see the water like that — it really takes you away from day-to-day life.”

Sarah finds herself nodding. “I’m really proud of my dad. He’s worked hard to make the Fisherman’s Pier a success.”

“You never had any interest in following in his footsteps?”

“Nah. I’m not really what you’d call great in the kitchen. And I need a little more action than that.”

“I don’t know. I hear restaurants can get pretty wild.”

“I guess I saw that firsthand today.” She uses her chin to indicate the bakery’s counter, where the owner is now double-checking the contents of the register.

“I still can’t tell you how impressed I am by how you saved the day. It sounds like that was some major fast thinking.”

She shrugs. “I wasn’t going to let that guy get away with robbing innocent people. Or hurting anyone.”

“At least you’ll have a good story to tell the family over dinner,” he says. “I’m not keeping you, am I?”

Sarah checks her watch, already knowing that the number on it is going to make her groan — and, sure enough, it does. “I guess I should get going.”

“By all means.” Brent finishes the rest of his coffee and rises, and she does the same. “I hope I’m not making you late.”

“Not at all. I had to wait for the cake, anyway. And it was nice getting to chat with you.”

“Same.”

She can almost feel his gaze penetrating her, the flecks of light in his dark irises seeming to come alive. Something inside her tenses up, like a breath being held tightly.

“If this is too forward, just say so and I’ll drop it,” Brent says, “and I mean that, because I know fraternizing with coworkers on the force is a whole thing — but if you’d like, I’d love to buy you a drink sometime.”

“You mean something other than a cup of coffee that winds up being on the house because I foiled a robbery?”

“Definitely something other than that,” he says, smiling at her teasing. “What do you say?”

“I’d love that. I really would.” She picks up the cake box, as much to prevent herself from squealing with excitement as anything else. “I’ll see you at the station?”

“You can count on it. Enjoy dinner with your family.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll try. Nice meeting you, Brent.”

“You, too.”

With the cake in her hands, Sarah exits the bakery. She forces herself not to glance backward at him — but if she did, she would see him watching her go, a charmed grin on his lips.

—–

At the back of the Fisher house is a redwood deck that looms over the yard. After the children were mostly grown and no longer needed the space to play, Paula convinced Bill to have a deck built. Now, it holds a grill, an outdoor dining table, and a set of Adirondack chairs, creating a perfect space for summer evening relaxation. Down below, beside the remaining small patch of grass, is the garden that Paula began cultivating a few years ago, where tomatoes and fresh herbs grow during the months that the weather will allow.

With October now setting in, the darkness is coming earlier and earlier. The sky is already dark, the stars beginning to make their presence known, as Tim and Molly stand out on the deck, each with a glass of red wine.

“It’s a great city,” Tim is saying, “and I’ve never really lived anywhere else — aside from that one semester I studied abroad in London.”

“We would all miss you,” his sister says. “Not to mention that Mom and Dad would be heartbroken to have their first grandchild so far away.”

“Believe me, I know.” He sips his wine thoughtfully. “There’s something else giving me pause, though.”

“What’s that?”

“Claire.”

“She doesn’t want to move?”

Tim glances at the sliding glass door that connects the deck to the kitchen. Bill is alone in there, checking something in the oven and unable to hear them.

“She’s acting strangely,” Tim explains.

“How so?”

“I can’t put my finger on it. But she’s been distant. She seemed onboard with the idea of this job offer, and she went along with the idea of going to Chicago to check out the housing market… but  now it’s like the idea of moving really bugs her.” He leans against the deck’s railing. “Not even bugs her. Disturbs her.”

Molly takes a pristine nail against her wine glass. “Didn’t she live there when she was a teenager?”

“Just for a summer. She says it isn’t a big deal, but something about her — body language, I don’t know — says otherwise. I was thinking of asking her dad. Is that weird?”

“Hmm. I mean, no. You’re worried about her. But are you close enough with her dad to ask him something like that?”

“That’s the other thing. Not really. But he might know…”

Molly exaggerates a shudder.

“What was that for?” Tim asks.

“Honestly, her dad creeped me out a little at your wedding,” she says. “That’s the only time I’ve met him, but there was something about the way he acted toward her — possessive or something.”

“I’m not a huge fan, either. And I get the sense that he feels the same way about me. But if this is about Claire’s happiness.”

“You know what I think?” She sets her glass down on the wide railing. “You should talk to your wife again.”

“You’re probably right.” He lifts the glass to his mouth but pauses before taking a drink. “I just don’t want to do something that’s going to hurt her.”

“She loves you,” Molly says. “If there’s something going on, she’ll want you to know — even if it’s scary at first.”

Now he takes a hefty slug of the wine. “I hope you’re right.”

—–

“It was horrible,” Jason says as he balances on the arm of his parents’ sofa. “She fell at this weird angle. I could tell something was seriously wrong as soon as she hit the ice.”

“Are they going to do surgery?” Claire asks. She, Paula, and Bill are gathered around the youngest Fisher, listening intently to his recounting of the day.

“No. They said they don’t have to.”

“That bodes well for her recovery,” Claire says. Turning to her in-laws, she elaborates: “If they trust the bone to heal on its own, it means things might move a lot faster.”

Paula wrings her hands together. “But what about Regionals? You’ve both been working so hard.”

Jason shakes his head sadly. “The whole season is shot.”

“It’ll be three to six months before she’s out of the cast, I’d think,” Claire says. “And then there’s physical therapy. It could be quite a while before Courtney’s back on the ice.”

In the kitchen, the glass door slides open and closed. A moment later, Tim and Molly join the rest of them in the living room.

“How’s Courtney doing?” Tim asks. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. I’m gonna be fine,” Jason says. “Just a little shaken up. Courtney’s leg is broken. The doctor says she won’t skate for six months, minimum.”

“Oh, wow. That’s awful,” Molly says.

“What did Sandy have to say?” Bill asks.

Jason feels all of their eyes upon him. His private conversations with his coach has been repeating in his head since he left the hospital, but he cannot bring himself to put her proposal back out into the universe. He is struggling to come up with something else to say when the front door opens.

“I’m here! And I have cake!” Sarah announces.

“Finally,” Paula says as she moves over and takes the cake from her daughter’s hands so that Sarah can slip out of her coat. “We were worried about you!”

“You’re never gonna believe this, but there was a robbery at the bakery. While I was waiting to pick up the cake. And I stopped it.”

“What do you mean, you stopped it?” Bill asks.

“I got the upper hand on the robber while he was distracted, knocked the gun out of his hand, and arrested him. The cake got ruined in the process, so they had to frost a new one. That’s why I’m late.”

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Paula says, giving Sarah’s shoulder an affectionate rub. “But you really should have called!”

Sarah sighs. “I was a little distracted.”

“That sounds like a big deal, though,” Tim says, stepping toward his sister. “Especially for a cop who’s only been on the force for a few months.”

She is grateful, as always, for his ability to deflect their parents’ criticism. She thanks him with a wordless look.

“Captain Taylor was there afterward, when back-up came,” Sarah says. “He was really impressed.”

“That’s awesome,” Jason pipes in.

“It sounds like we all have a lot to catch up on,” Bill says, “and dinner is almost ready. Why don’t we all go into the dining room?”

They all murmur in agreement and follow him, with the scents of chicken and potatoes already beckoning them.

—–

Two hours later, with used dishes, cutlery, and glasses scattered over the table and joyful conversation still ringing in the air, the family members say their goodbyes and head their separate ways.

Jason goes upstairs to his bedroom, where he unpacks the equipment bag that he tossed on his bed when he arrived home. This is a routine he goes through nearly every day — tossing his used towel and damp gloves into his hamper, rinsing out his water bottle, setting out his skates so the moisture doesn’t damage them. But today it feels different, because tomorrow, there is no practice.

Or is there? He cannot imagine taking the ice tomorrow, after his midday class at King’s Bay University, just to skate without Courtney. Or, even worse, skate with some new partner whom Sandy has lined up for an audition.

He thinks of Courtney, lying in her hospital bed with her future so uncertain. He wants to rush back there and tell her that everything will be all right, except he cannot tell her that. Instead he sinks onto the edge of his own bed, one of his skates in hand, and wonders what the coming days and weeks will look like for them.

Sarah goes home to her own small apartment and turns on the shower. She steps under its stream and turns the water up as hot as she can bear. She lets it beat down on her sore muscles and tired limbs. Even hours later, she can hardly believe what she went through today; it was such a far cry from the routine response calls and traffic incidents that have made up her time on the force so far.

And there was also her impromptu sit-down with Captain Taylor.

Brent.

Something about him is so fascinating. So magnetic. Their conversation went on for far longer than she expected, and yet, by the time it ended, it still felt much too short.

She hopes that he remembers to follow up on that offer of taking her for a drink. And if not… she decides that she will follow up with him.

Tim and Claire drive back to their own apartment and bring their thankfully small load of luggage upstairs with them in the elevator.

“It’s so nice to be home,” Claire says when they cross the threshold and see their familiar furniture and trappings waiting for them, just as they left them.

Tim plants a kiss on her cheek. “It is. But as far as I’m concerned, home is wherever you are.”

He locks the front door and then, without even being asked, takes both her rolling suitcase and his bag to the bedroom.

Claire removes her shoes and, as she is setting down her purse, removes a flyer for it. An inviting photo of the condo they both liked in Chicago stares back at her.

“You can do this,” she says. “If you have to, you can go back there. You can.”

Forcing herself to endure that is far better than the alternative.

Paula and Bill move the debris of the family dinner into the kitchen. They stand side-by-side at the sink, rinsing items.

“It’s always so nice to have everyone under the same roof for a few hours,” Paula says. “It doesn’t happen nearly enough anymore.”

“I know.” Bill loads a plate into the dishwasher. “But everyone has so much going on.”

“That’s what I mean. Tim and Claire could be moving half a country away! And just thinking of Sarah out there, facing some crazy person with a gun…”

Her husband quickly wipes his hands on a nearby dishcloth and wraps an arm around her shoulders. “But we all still have one another. And as long as we do, we can get through anything.”

Paula rests her head against him, grateful.

On her drive home, Molly remembers that she is out of toothpaste. Finding the thought of going to bed without brushing her teeth unpleasant, she stops at a drugstore to pick some up. Only when she is back in the car after checking out does she realize how tired she is from this long day.

She maneuvers her car back toward the apartment complex where she has been living for the past year. It is a series of separate two-story buildings constructed around a central parking lot. She finds a spot, parks her Honda, and takes the plastic bag from the drugstore as she crosses through the dark lot toward her building.

As she climbs the outdoor staircase, she locates the key to her front door on the ring of keys in her hand. When she reaches the top of the landing, she moves to insert the key in the lock — only to stop when her foot strikes something.

She glances down just as a nearby light, which is controlled by a less-than-reliable sensor, comes to life.

At first, she thinks she must be seeing things. But her gaze lingers on the items laid in front of her door, and they are exactly what they first appeared to me.

“Oh my god!” she exclaims, tensing as her hand lets go of the drugstore bag.

On the ground, waiting for her, are a dozen black roses and what is unmistakably a dead bird.

END OF EPISODE 001 (REMIX)

What did you think of this new/old episode?
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the beginning of the series?
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