Previously…
– A desperate Rosie took Gabrielle and fled for the Canadian border.
– After he realized Rosie and Gabrielle were missing, Travis was reluctant to alert the police, so he called his aunt, Sarah, for help instead.
– Brent was shocked to receive word from a contact about an alert for Rosie and Gabrielle at the border.

Exhaustion has draped itself over Rosie Jimenez like a heavy, suffocating cloak, and yet she cannot get her mind to slow down enough to sleep. Thoughts move through her head in an erratic loop. A current of nervous energy creeps its way through her body with no possible outlet and nowhere to go. Feeling warm, she turns over in the small, twin-sized bed, and although the movement brings temporary relief, soon her body temperature is rising again. She realizes that her eyes are open and she is simply staring at the blank wall.

I have to get out of here, she thinks. But there is nowhere to go. And there is no way out – not really. 

She flips over again, attempting the impossible task of getting her body comfortable enough to sleep, and her mind travels back to that day…

—–

“What is taking so long?” Rosie asks aloud to the empty car. Well, it is not completely empty, because Gabrielle is still strapped into her carseat in the back, occupied with one of the dolls that they brought along on their impromptu trip. But they have been sitting at the Peace Arch border crossing, which leads from the United States into Canada, for far too long. The Burl Ives song playing on the radio transitioned into a Johnny Mathis one, and Rosie is tapping her left foot up and down nervously as she waits for the border agent to return. 

After she presented her and Gabrielle’s passports, the agent asked her to pull to a spot on the side of the actual crossing, and she has been waiting there for minutes that have felt like hours. A big part of her simply wants to reverse out of the space and drive off, but the agent still has their passports, and she knows that would only confirm that something is amiss regarding her road trip with Gabrielle; it is entirely possible that this is a random stop, or even a case of racial profiling.

I can’t believe I’m hoping for racial profiling, she thinks, letting a sardonic chuckle escape from her throat. 

Then she sees something that makes her heart leap into her throat. It simultaneously fills her with the greatest sense of relief and an overpowering feeling of shame. 

Rosie unbuckles her seatbelt as she watches Travis’s Honda pull up haphazardly near where she is parked. As he practically flies out of the vehicle, Rosie rolls down her own window.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, her voice coming out meeker than she intended.

“What are you doing here?” Travis asks, his eyes wild and his exasperation naked. “Ros–”

Before he can even get her name out, a uniformed border agent – not the one who asked Rosie to pull her SUV to the side – comes rushing over.

“Sir, you need to step back,” the agent declares.

“This is my husband,” Rosie says, leaning out the window slightly. 

The agent hesitates. 

Rosie quickly produces her badge and holds it up for the agent to see. “I’m an officer with the King’s Bay Police Department. My husband has every right to be here. Unless you’re placing me under arrest this minute.” She pauses, then levels her stare at the mustached man. “Are you placing me under arrest?”

“No, ma’am,” the officer says, and he takes several steps backward.

Travis moves to the side of the SUV. Immediately he peers inside and lets out a sigh of relief when he sees Gabrielle.

“Sweetie. Hi,” he says, smiling at the little girl.

“Daddy!” she squeals. 

Rosie can see Travis doing his best to maintain his cool as he asks her, “What are you doing?”

“Come with us,” Rosie says. “Let’s go.”

“Where? We can’t just–”

“Yes, we can. We have legal custody, Travis. Maybe they’ll give up.”

“They won’t give up,” Travis says. “Are you kidding?”

“No, but…” She trails off as another vehicle pulls up. Her blood runs cold. 

“Did you lead them here?” Rosie asks.

“Who? What?”

“Them.” She points, and Travis’s eyes follow her guidance until he sees it, too: Brent’s car, pulling up and parking several spaces away.

“Did you lead them here?!” Rosie asks again, more frantic this time, as Brent and Molly step out of the car and approach them.

—–

“Merry Christmas, dear,” Paula Fisher says from her post at the counter, as her daughter enters the kitchen in black yoga pants and a red-and-pink color-blocked hoodie. 

“Merry Christmas,” Sarah Fisher Gray responds. “Couldn’t sleep?”

“I’ve rested plenty the past few months.” Paula continues whisking eggs in the mixing bowl set before her. “There was a chance I wouldn’t even live to see this Christmas.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s the truth. So when I woke up, even if it was a little early, I was perfectly happy to begin the day. I’m going to make a breakfast quiche for everyone.”

“That’ll be nice,” Sarah says with a smile as she crosses to the other counter and retrieves a mug from the upper cupboard. “Coffee?”

“I have some, but thank you.”

Sarah pours herself a cup of steaming hot coffee.

“Today should certainly be interesting,” Paula says.

“Are you nervous about having everyone together?”

“No.” Then Paula lets out a sigh and rests the fork on the side of the mixing bowl. “It’ll be difficult, of course. But we all need to begin healing. And it is Christmas.”

“Yeah,” Sarah says, contemplating her next words as she takes a careful sip of her coffee. “I still can barely believe what happened up at the border.”

“I know,” Paula replies wearily. “It’s heartbreaking to think about.”

Sarah’s hands curl up into fists. “I had no idea that sending up that flare to my contact would cause word to get back to Brent. Especially so fast.”

“It was for the best,” Paula says. “And we all do need to start moving forward. All I want in the new year is for this family to come back together. I know it’s what your father would want, too.”

Sarah nods along, all the while biting her tongue to suppress a nagging thought: What if that isn’t possible after everything that’s happened?

—–

The softly sparkling lights on the Christmas tree cast their warm glow over the otherwise dark living room. Outside, dawn has barely begun to appear. Molly Taylor sits in a chair upholstered in a gray bouclé, holding a cup of coffee on her lap. She stares into the twinkling tree, feeling so overwhelmed by emotion that she is almost numb.

At the sound of footsteps on the stairs, she looks up. A moment later, her husband steps into the living room, clad in a navy blue KBPD t-shirt and plaid pajama pants. 

“You’re up early,” he says groggily.

“I couldn’t fall back asleep.” She shifts her posture and stretches to place the coffee cup on the wooden table. “Another restless night.”

“It won’t be like this forever.”

“I don’t know about that. I keep thinking… did we make a mistake?”

“No.” He shakes his head and suddenly sounds much more awake. “No. You know we didn’t, Mol.”

All she can do is sigh, as her thoughts take her back to that day at the border…

—–

“Thank god,” Molly exclaims with a gasp as she and Brent rush up to Rosie’s SUV. Travis is standing by the side of the vehicle, and Molly is relieved that she can see Gabrielle in her carseat through the rear window.

A mustache-sporting border guard in uniform starts toward them. Without missing a beat, Brent pulls out his badge.

“Brent Taylor, Commander of the King’s Bay PD,” he announces. “I’m also the biological father of the child in the backseat. I have this under control.”

The guard holds up both palms and backs away.

“Just give us a minute,” Travis tells Brent and Molly.

“You’ve had plenty of minutes,” Molly replies. “And this is what you do? Run for Canada?”

“Rosie was just… needing a break,” Travis says. “How did you find us?”

“I reached out to a bunch of contacts months ago, back when we filed for custody,” Brent explains. “I wanted to know if you two tried to leave the country with Gabrielle.”

Travis and Rosie exchange a helpless look. 

“I should have figured,” Rosie says from inside the SUV. “That’s why they detained us.”

Brent nods. “This is not going to reflect well on you guys in court.”

“I’m not letting you do this,” Rosie says defiantly. “I’m not. She’s– she’s our daughter.”

An angry heat roils inside Molly. “She’s our daughter.”

Brent holds out an arm, as if to restrain her. “Rosie, Travis… we understand how unbelievably painful this is. It’s painful for us, too. Our little girl was born three years ago, and we thought she was dead for so long. And you’ve fallen in love with her. We get it. It’s crazy and it’s unfair.”

“It is unfair,” Travis says quietly. 

“But we’re her biological parents,” Brent says, his tone surprisingly restrained in a way that Molly admires, because she could not possibly muster that sort of peace right now. “The monster who arranged this entire mess is being charged for it. You two have taken such good care of Gabrielle–”

“And that counts for a lot,” Rosie says, glancing back toward the child, who is too busy with her doll to care about the adults’ confrontation. “We are the only parents she’s ever known.”

“She’s very young,” Molly counters. “What happens when she grows up and finds out that she’s been kept from her real parents her whole life?”

“We are her real parents,” Rosie snaps.

But Molly sees the shift in Travis’s expression. She can tell that her argument has made a dent in his armor, that maybe the armor already had some cracks in it. 

“We never wanted this to get so ugly,” Molly says. “We know that you love Gabrielle. We all do. But we never chose to give her away. We never would have done that. Loretta stole us from her – the same way she and James switched you and Spencer, Travis.”

Rosie reaches through the open window and grasps Travis’s arm. “But that meant he got to be raised by Tim and Claire. You wouldn’t trade that, would you?”

“No. I don’t know.” Travis’s voice breaks. “There are so many what-ifs…”

“This fight almost killed your grandmother,” Molly pleads. “What if we end it before anyone else gets hurt? What if we work together to make this transition as healthy as it could be for Gabrielle?”

A tense, anguished silence lingers among the foursome. Then Travis looks at Rosie.

“What if we…?” 

“No,” Rosie fires back. “No.”

“Rosie.” He clasps her hand between both of his. “Listen to me. This could go on for months. The odds are against us as it is. And then we might not have the chance…” His throat tightens, and tears begin to spill from his eyes. “What if we did what’s best for Gabrielle?”

Rosie starts to cry, as well. “What’s best – what’s best for her is being with us. Her parents.”

“I just don’t know if the court will see it that way,” Travis tells her as he sobs. “This way…”

“Travis… no…”

Molly holds tightly onto Brent. As furious as she has been with her nephew and his wife for fighting this so hard, her heart now breaks for them. She has been so desperate to make her family whole – and now she sees their little family being torn apart. 

“Let’s just…” Travis can’t even finish his sentence. “It’s time, Rosie.”

She stares back at him. Then her hand moves down to the gear shift. The SUV’s engine hums as her shaking hand moves to put the vehicle in reverse.

—–

Rosie is still curled up in the twin bed, her eyes refusing to close, when she becomes aware of a presence in the room with her. A figure at the door casts its shadow, though she does not move her head to see who it is.

“When did you come in here?” Travis Fisher asks.

“I don’t know. Maybe 2 a.m.,” she says flatly.

Travis walks gently from the door to the side of the bed and perches on the very edge of the mattress.

“Sleeping in here won’t bring her back,” he says.

“It makes me feel closer to her. I know it’s stupid.”

“It isn’t stupid.” Travis exhales, sounding as though he is trying to expel all the stress and strain and agony of the past several months. “You should come downstairs.”

“I don’t want to,” Rosie tells him.

“I know you don’t. But it’s Christmas.”

Rosie lets out a wordless hum and continues lying in the bed.

—–

In the living room, Brent stands beside the Christmas tree. 

“You should have woken me up,” he says to Molly. 

“You were up all night the night before,” she says. “I wanted to let you sleep.”

Molly and Brent glance up when they hear footsteps descending the stairs. 

“Merry Christmas,” Molly says, as cheerily as she can muster despite how bone-tired she is.

“Merry Christmas,” comes Christian’s voice, and Caleb’s follows a moment later:

“Merry Christmas, Mom and Dad.”

—–

Travis lowers himself down onto the bed beside Rosie. He pulls her close, wrapping his arms around her. 

“This will get easier. Won’t it?” he wonders.

“I don’t know,” Rosie says. Her eyes scan the room. Mere weeks ago, it was so full of life. So full of Gabrielle’s things. And now it is stripped, barren, faceless. The bed that she had begun to use – her “big girl bed” – feels like some last bit of connection to their daughter.

“I miss her, too,” Travis says.

He begins to sob into the back of his wife’s neck. Rosie breathes in sharply, ready for another onslaught of tears, but her body is too tired to produce them.

—–

Caleb carries Gabrielle into the living room.

“You’re awake?” Molly asks, standing from the sofa. “We were going to let you sleep in. You were up so much of the night.”

“We heard her talking to herself in her room,” Christian explains. 

Molly smiles. “And you let your brothers carry you downstairs?”

Gabrielle nods, a little shyly, as she takes in the magnificent joy of the Christmas tree.

“Did Santa come?” she asks.

“Santa brought all kinds of stuff,” Brent says. He gestures at the bounty of wrapped presents beneath the tree. 

“But you’re the best present of all,” Molly says, crossing the room to give the little girl a kiss on the cheek. “Do you know that?”

Gabrielle emits a little giggle and then buries her face in Caleb’s shoulder. 

“Merry Christmas, everyone,” Molly tells her family, and all the sleepless nights since Gabrielle came home with them suddenly mean nothing – because this, all of them together, is what really matters.

END OF EPISODE 1208

Will Travis and Rosie be able to heal from this loss?
Is Gabrielle’s transition going to be a positive one?
Can the Fisher family begin to heal now?
Talk about all this and more in the comments below!

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