Previously…
– During the earthquake, a flash fire in the kitchen left Jason with severe burns. Unbeknownst to anyone — including Sophie — the gas had been left on by Sophie’s alter, “Shannon,” in an effort to make Sabrina think she is losing her mind.
– Rosie was trapped at the Taylor home during the quake, and Molly helped deliver Rosie and Travis’s son.
– Sonja confessed to Spencer that, back when she was hired as his nurse, Loretta had been paying her additional funds to ensure Spencer’s memory didn’t return.

Three weeks after the earthquake, Jason Fisher’s living room has taken on the temporary look of a place that has become part sickroom, part home. A small table beside the couch is crowded with bottles of medication, a glass of water, a stack of gauze and several rolls of medical tape. Jason sits in the middle of it all, one arm resting carefully on a pillow. The worst of the burns are healing, but the bandages around his hands and neck make it clear that recovering and recovered are two very different things.

Sabrina Gage stands behind him, carefully working at the edge of a dressing while Sophie Fisher sits nearby, sorting fresh gauze into a neat pile.

“You know, when the doctor said I could recover at home, I don’t think this is what he had in mind.”

Sabrina doesn’t look up. “He probably didn’t expect you to complain this much.”

“I’m injured. I’m entitled to complain.”

“You’ve been saying that for three weeks,” Sophie says.

Jason looks over at her. “Three weeks?”

“Give or take.”

He smiles despite himself.

“I suppose that’s progress. At least you two have stopped looking at me like I’m going to fall apart if somebody opens a window.”

“We’re just being careful,” Sabrina says.

“You’re being terrifying.”

Sabrina finishes securing the dressing and steps back. “There. Better?”

Jason looks down at his hand.

“Better.”

Sophie hands Sabrina the used gauze. “You’re getting pretty good at that.”

Sabrina takes it from her. “I wish I didn’t have to be.”

The room grows quiet for a moment. Then Jason looks at Sabrina.

“Hey.”

She looks up.

“I’m okay,” he tells her.

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Sabrina gives him a small smile. “I’m trying to.”

Jason reaches for her hand, though the movement is still awkward. “That’s good enough.”

She gently squeezes the tips of his fingers.

“I still keep thinking about that morning,” she says.

“You don’t have to.”

“I know. I just…” She trails off. “I should have checked the stove before I left.

“Sabrina—”

“I was in a hurry. I remember turning it on, and then I remember leaving. I don’t remember turning it off.”

“You didn’t know there was a problem. You also didn’t know there was going to be an earthquake.”

“But I should have checked.”

Jason shakes his head. “And if you’d checked it, maybe you’d have caught it. Maybe you wouldn’t have. Maybe the whole thing would have happened anyway. We don’t know.”

Sabrina looks down.

“What we do know is that you’re here,” Jason says. He looks toward his daughter. “And so are you. Which means everything to me.”

Sabrina nods, though the guilt hasn’t quite left her face.

Sophie quietly says, “Dad’s right.”

Sabrina looks at her.

“You couldn’t have known.”

“Thanks,” Sabrina says tepidly. But as Sabrina turns back toward the medical supplies, Sophie’s expression shifts. It is just for a moment, but it is there, like a black veil being swept over a peaceful scene.

Because something isn’t adding up. Sabrina was cooking before she left for the store that morning. Sophie’s memory of it all remains frustratingly foggy, like a shadow that keeps moving away the more she advances on it. But something about the whole thing still feels off to her — and she cannot pinpoint why.

—–

Natalie Bishop stands in the living room of the home that will soon be hers and hers alone, with her phone pressed to her ear, listening impatiently.

“Yes, I understand. I’m not asking for special treatment. I just want to know if she’s accepting visitors.”

She listens.

“I see.”

Another beat.

“No, I haven’t heard from her. That’s why I’m calling.” She listens again, then sighs. “All right. Thank you.”

Natalie hangs up. For a moment, she simply stares at the phone. She’d thought Sonja would at least answer one of her messages. They’ve been friends. Whatever Sonja has done, whatever trouble she got herself into, Natalie would expect some acknowledgement — even if she is aware that she had ulterior motives for befriending the nurse in the first place.

Then a spike of dread strikes her in the heart. What if Sonja somehow figured out that Natalie has been lying to her? That it was her, not Loretta, who was paying her to repress Spencer’s memory all those years ago?

“Don’t waste your time.”

She turns at the sound of her soon-to-be ex-husband‘s voice.  Spencer Ragan stands at the border of the living room and the foyer.

“What?”

“Sonja? That’s who you were trying to reach?”

Natalie stammers for a moment. “I, um. Yeah. What about her?”

“She isn’t worth visiting.”

She studies him. “You don’t know that.”

“I know enough.” Spencer walks into the room.

Natalie folds her arms. “You’re not exactly impartial here. And I’m not excusing what she did… even if some might consider taking out Loretta Ragan a favor to humanity.”

Spencer frowns back at her. But when he speaks again, there’s an edge to his voice, something beyond disapproval at her off-color remark.

“The day of the earthquake, I went to see Sonja in prison,” he explains. “Samantha thought that talking to her might help me, I don’t know, move forward.”

Natalie breathes in sharply. She does not like where this is going. “And…?”

“She told me that Loretta paid her to work as my nurse. Except she was working against my recovery. Mentally, anyway.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

Spencer shakes his head in disbelief before continuing. “Apparently Loretta didn’t want me to remember what had happened — the fall down the stairs and all that. My guess is that she wanted me to forget that I was Peter’s father. She didn’t want me tied to you through a child.”

With a slow nod, Natalie absorbs this information, trying not to give anything away.

Then she manages, “And you believe her?”

“I have no reason not to. We were trapped in the interrogation room. She had a dislocated shoulder. She thought she might never see TJ again. I guess she felt she had to clear her conscience.” Spencer’s expression hardens. “She was my nurse. She was supposed to be looking after me.”

He lets out a humorless laugh. “Instead, she was making sure I stayed confused.

Natalie looks back at him. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll be fine. But don’t waste your energy on that woman.” He picks up Peter’s framed school photo and regards it for a long moment. “I’m going to need to get another one of these printed.”

“For the new pad?”

He nods.

“You can pack that one,” she tells him. “It’s no big deal.”

Spencer looks at her with surprise. “Oh. Okay. Thanks.” He looks toward the hallway.

“And after this mediation, this house won’t really have anything left to do with me anyway.”

“It’s weird. In a week or so, we’ll be…”

“Divorced. Finally. Blessedly.” He looks back at her. “No offense.”

“Thanks? I think.”

With a grin, he sets down the photo, then turns and walks away. Natalie watches him go, and once he is gone, her expression changes. Her heart is pulsing quickly. Sonja came clean with Spencer — and he believes her story. That’s really it. It’s over. And Sonja is being sentenced soon. With Loretta dead and Sonja behind bars, the whole matter really could be buried forever.

She doesn’t quite allow herself to breathe a sigh of relief yet, but she can feel it stirring in her lungs.

—–

At the Fisher home, Paula Fisher is gathering her things before heading out. She checks her purse, finds her keys, then turns toward the living room, where Sarah Fisher Gray and Matt Gray are sitting together, a bleak postseason Mariners game on the TV.

“Where are you off to?” Sarah asks.

“I’m going to check on Jason.”

“I talked to him this morning,” Sarah says. “It sounds like slow going. I need to stop by again.”

“He’s recovering. Slowly, but he’s recovering. That’s what matters.” Paula picks up her purse. “Then I’m going to see the baby.”

Matt looks at her. “Dexter?”

“Of course Dexter.”

Sarah smiles. “You’ve seen him three times this week.”

“And?”

“And nothing.” Sarah glances at Matt. “Apparently three times isn’t enough.”

Paula laughs. “He’s my newest great-grandbaby. I’m allowed to spoil him.”

“You’re going to spoil him before he can even appreciate it.”

“That’s what great-grandmothers are for.” She checks her purse again, then pauses. “Of course, Rosie is probably still getting used to everything, too. Having a newborn is quite an adjustment.”

Sarah nods. “I imagine.”

“And Molly was wonderful through the whole thing. I can’t believe she delivered that sweet boy herself.”

Sarah frowns. “She got some towels and told Rosie to push. She didn’t perform open-heart surgery.”

Matt bites back a smile. Paula ignores the comment.

“I still think Molly could have been a surgeon,” Paula says.

“She designs clothes,” Sarah counters.

“But her fingers have always been so nimble. Even as a little girl, her sewing was impeccable. I suppose it all worked out for the best, though.”

Sarah gives Matt a look.

Paula continues musing, “I wonder if Travis and Rosie considered naming the baby after her.”

Sarah stares at her mother for a moment. Then she leans toward Matt. “I think I need some fresh air.”

He nods solemnly, though he is biting the insides of his cheeks.

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea,” he says.

Paula looks between them, completely unaware of the problem. “I’ll see you both later.”

“Have fun,” Sarah says. “Give Dex a kiss for us.”

Paula smiles and heads out. The moment the door closes, Sarah looks at Matt.

“She was serious.”

“I know.”

Sarah shakes her head. Matt laughs.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he offers.

“That’s why I married you.”

They exchange a smile and then a kiss as Sarah gets up.

—–

The Jimenez home is quieter than usual, though there is still plenty of activity around the newest member of the family. Dexter sleeps peacefully in Rosie Jimenez‘s arms as Tim and Claire Fisher sit nearby, watching him with the sort of fascination usually reserved for major historical events.

“He’s sleeping again,” Claire says.

“He’s a newborn,” Rosie replies. “That’s what they do.”

“I know. But look at him.”

Tim leans forward. “He is pretty cute.”

Juanita Jimenez sits nearby, watching her daughter and grandson with a smile.

“You look tired,” she tells Rosie.

“I am tired.”

“You should sleep when the baby sleeps.”

Rosie looks at her. “Everybody keeps saying that.”

“Because it’s good advice.”

“It’s impossible advice.”

Claire laughs. Dexter stirs in Rosie’s arms. Everyone immediately goes quiet. He settles again.

Tim exhales. “See? Everybody panic.”

Rosie smiles down at her son. “He’s going to have a very spoiled life.”

“Obviously,” Claire says.

They hear the sound of the front door opening and then closing.

Rosie looks up. “That must be–“

Travis Fisher steps into the room carrying two paper bags. “I come bearing food.”

“I knew you were my favorite person for a reason,” Rosie says. She glances down at Dexter. “Maybe second favorite.”

“I can accept losing to him,” Travis says. Juanita hurriedly takes the bags from him.

“Let me help you with those,” Claire offers.

Juanita shakes her head. “No, no. I’ll be right back with plates.”

Travis kisses Rosie’s cheek and then sits down beside her, gently touching Dexter’s hand. “I still can’t believe he’s here.”

“Incredible, isn’t it?” Tim says to his grown son, a sparkle in both of their eyes.

Claire’s gaze lingers on her grandson as she says, “We’re just so glad you’re both okay. To go into labor during an earthquake–“

“I know,” Rosie says, eyes widened. “I have to hand it to Molly: she came through when I needed her.”

“We’re really grateful you had someone with you,” Tim comments.

“You know,” Travis says offhandedly, “I’ve been wondering something: how did you wind up at Aunt Molly and Uncle Brent‘s that day, anyway?”

Rosie hesitates. “I needed to talk to Brent.”

Travis’s brow furrows. “To Brent? About what?”

“He had…” She sighs. “He had suggested I come back to the force after I had the baby.”

“Really? You never said anything to me.”

“I wasn’t sure I wanted to give it any space,” she says. “But it was like this itch in the back of my brain, so I decided to go talk to him.”

“While nine months pregnant. During an earthquake.”

“To be fair, she didn’t know there was going to be an earthquake,” Claire chimes in.

“So did you get to talk about it?” Travis asks.

“We’ll talk about it later,” Rosie says in a slightly clipped tone, shutting down the line of conversation. She can see the frustration in Travis’s face, but she is too weary and elated to get into this now. And she barely knows how she feels herself.

“Can I hold him?” Travis asks, hoping to soften the mood. “It’s been at least two hours.”

“Here. My arm is sore,” Rosie responds with a laugh. Travis carefully takes the infant from her.

“And when your arm gets sore, I’ve got dibs,” Tim says. The four of them settle into a comfortable silence, their focus back on the baby, the small moment of tension between the new parents already tucked away for another time.

—–

A bit later, Jason has disappeared into the bedroom for a nap, leaving Sabrina and Sophie alone in the living room.

Sabrina gathers the used dressings and carries them toward the kitchen. Sophie follows with the empty water glass.

“It’s strange,” Sabrina says.

Sophie looks at her. “What is?”

“Being here.”

“You literally live here.”

Sabrina sets the dressings on the counter.

“When I first moved in, I was so worried about imposing. That your dad would regret asking me to stay here. Or that you’d be really upset about it.”

“I was a little annoyed at first,” Sophie admits. “But you were being stalked. So, like, it kinda made sense.” The teenager leans against the counter.

“You’ve been amazing, helping out.”

Sophie shrugs. “He’s my dad.”

“Still.”

Sabrina looks toward the hallway. “He’s lucky to have you.”

Sophie doesn’t answer immediately.

“Yeah,” she finally says. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t let you know about him getting burned right away. I just… we got to the hospital, and I was so…”

“It’s okay, Sophie. You were traumatized.”

“I also, uh…” Sophie exhales. “Didn’t have your number saved.”

“What?”

“It’s stupid. I thought if I saved it, everything would be, like… permanent.”

“It’s okay.” Sabrina nods slowly as she turns back to the sink. “I keep thinking about that day.”

Sophie stiffens.

“I know your dad says he doesn’t blame me,” Sabrina continues. “But every time I look at him…” She stops herself. Sophie watches her.

“You really think you left the stove on?” she asks.

Sabrina turns back. “I don’t know.”

“You really don’t remember?”

“No. But I remember turning it on. That’s the part that scares me.”

Sophie takes a breath. “You didn’t do it on purpose.”

“Of course not. No. I just… I’m having trouble forgiving myself.”

“We might never know for sure,” Sophie says.

“And I hate that.”

Sabrina turns on the water and begins washing her hands. Sophie tries to put those vague, shadowy memories of that morning out of her head, but as elusive as they are, they won’t quite leave her alone.

END OF EPISODE 1316

Will Sophie remember what happened that day?
Should Rosie accept Brent’s job offer?
Is Natalie finally in the clear regarding Sonja?
Discuss it all in the comments below!