Previously…
– Jason told Alex that he plans to propose to Natalie.
– Spencer lingered in a coma after his fall down the stairs.
– Still furious at Diane, Tempest went digging for information on the long-ago suit in which Diane lost custody of Samantha to Tim and Claire.

“Okay… take a look at this, would you?”

Diane Bishop slides her laptop over the dining room table of her condo, toward her daughter, who sits diagonally across from her. Samantha quickly finishes typing something on her own computer and then sets it aside to review what her mother is showing her.

“Hmm…” Samantha is intent as she reads the screen. “This works a lot better, definitely. It’s much clearer. I do think…” She pivots the laptop to show Diane something. “You could switch these two lines.”

It takes Diane only a second of evaluating to nod her head in agreement. “Yeah. You’re right. As always, with this stuff.” She takes back her computer and quickly implements the change. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, I’m going to have something for you to look over in a few minutes,” Samantha says.

“I’m all yours. I’m going to turn this in so they can post it on the station’s website right now. I hate that they force us to spend time on these dopey blog entries…” She continues grumbling under her breath as she sends off the content.

Before Samantha can finish what she is doing for her own job, there’s a knock at the door. Its rhythm is quick, urgent, and it grabs both women’s attention.

“Who in the hell…?” Diane mutters as she slides her chair out and crosses the room. She looks through the peephole and then, with Samantha watching carefully, hesitates a moment before opening the door.

Tempest Banks glares at Diane before shifting her focus past her to find Samantha. Her face is a rigid mask, every muscle fiber clenched so tightly that it appears the whole thing might shatter at any instant.

“What are you doing here?” Samantha asks as she stands from her seat.

“I need to talk to you,” Tempest says.

“Okay.” Samantha approaches the open door. “You could have texted that you were coming over. I’m working on something for Objection.”

“It’s important.”

“I’ll give you two some time alone,” Diane says, taking a step back. “I can go finish up–”

“No. Stay,” Tempest says firmly. “Might as well.”

“What is this about?” Samantha says. “We haven’t even had a normal conversation in forever– we never just hang out and act like a couple–”

“It’s because of her.” Tempest glares at Diane.

“Tempest, I am sorry for what happened with your mother and the baby and Hank,” Diane says, a heavy sheen of irritation coating her words. “I really am. But I can’t change history. And we can’t keep going around in circles like this.”

“You’re right. We can’t. And we won’t. Not anymore.” Tempest turns to Samantha. “Your mom, she doesn’t deserve this– this loyalty you’ve got toward her. She’s a fake.”

Diane plants her hands on her hips. “What in the hell are you talking about?”

“That you’ve been lying. Sam, she’s been lying to you your whole life.”

Samantha regards both of them with confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Your dad— he didn’t have an affair with your mom.”

Suddenly the color drains from Diane’s face, and her eyes flare.

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Diane insists, but her voice is thin, her usual confidence a ghost of itself.

“Tempest, what are you saying?” Samantha asks nervously.

“Tim never wanted to get with her,” Tempest says. “I saw it in the court papers. He lost his memory after he got shot, and she lied that she was his wife so he’d have sex with her. She tricked him — and she’s been lying to you about it your whole life!”

The crystal chandeliers hanging from the ceiling of Windmills glitter thanks to the votive candles burning atop each table in the restaurant’s dining room. Over one of the white tablecloths, Jason Fisher and Natalie Bishop talk over the remains of their meal and the indulgent red wine they have shared tonight.

“I have to admit,” Natalie says with a warm, relaxed smile, “it is really, really nice to be away from the kids for a few hours.”

“I thought we could use some alone time.” Jason grins back at her, though the pit of his stomach is churning, just as it has been for the entire meal. “And now Peter’s finally old enough that we can leave him for a few hours.”

“Yeah. I remember it was the same way with Bree: you don’t remember how badly you need a break until you have one.”

He nods and fiddles with his menu. “How do you feel about dessert?”

“I could use a coffee,” she says, “but I’m not sure I should have anything else. I overdid it with that branzino.”

“You look fantastic. You can definitely afford dessert.”

“That’s sweet of you.”

“I mean it.” He reaches over the table and takes her hand. “I was thinking that, after we’re done, we could take a walk down by the waterfront. Enjoy the summer nights before they’re gone.”

He waits as patiently as he can for her response, though he is hyper-aware of the ring inside his jacket pocket. The entire night has been planned around this; he knows where he wants to get down on one knee, beneath the Northwest moonlight, and ask her to be his wife. But he has to convince her to go for the walk first.

“That sounds great,” Natalie says, as Jason attempts to conceal a sigh of relief.

“How about we order to split, and then we talk our walk?” he suggests, turning the menu so she can read it. Natalie is looking it over when Jason feels his phone buzzing in his pants pocket. Out of reflex, he quickly checks the screen — and sees that it is their home phone.

“It’s the house,” he says as he scrambles to answer: “Hey. What’s up?”

“I’m so sorry to bother you guys on your night out,” Bree says over the line. “But I didn’t know what else to do.”

“What’s the matter?” Jason asks with alarm. He sees Natalie sit up straighter as she listens intently.

“Everything’s okay. But Sophie won’t listen to me. I’m trying to get her to go to bed, like you said, and she bit me!”

“She what?”

“She bit me!”

“How bad is it?” He covers the speaker for a moment to tell Natalie, “Sophie bit Bree.”

“I’m fine. But I told her I was going to call and tell you, and I didn’t want it to be an empty threat. I’m sorry to bother you–”

“No, it’s okay. You were right to call. Is Peter still sleeping?”

“Yeah. I’ve been carrying the monitor around with me.”

“Just hang in there,” Jason tells the teenager, “and we’ll be home soon. I promise you, Sophie’s going to be punished for this.”

They end the call, but as Jason puts his phone away, Natalie reaches for her purse.

“I guess that’s our cue,” she says.

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t we just pay and go? I’ll make us some coffee at home, and there’s ice cream in the freezer.”

“Bree said she’s fine–”

“I’m sure she is. But if the wheels are coming off, we should get back there. Come on, we’ve had our big parents’ night out.”

“What about our walk?”

“We can walk any time,” she says with a shrug. “Now where’s that waiter?”

Jason slumps back in his chair, knowing that she is probably right even as he wonders if there is any way to salvage what he had planned for tonight.

The door to Spencer Ragan’s hospital room cracks open, and Sabrina Gage pokes her head inside. She is relieved to see that the room is empty — or, at least, devoid of anyone but Spencer, who lies motionless in the bed, surrounded by a bevy of gently beeping and flashing machines. She is so unaccustomed to seeing him this way; during their past encounters, he has always been this fireball of energy, of sarcasm and cockiness and charisma, and to see him this way throws her off-balance — for several reasons.

She takes a few tentative steps into the room.

“Hi, Spencer,” she says. “I’m sorry I haven’t come to visit you since you were brought in. I thought… I thought maybe it wasn’t my place, and I should give your family some time. But I figured I wouldn’t be bothering anyone if I came toward the end of visiting hours.”

As she watches him, she listens to and focuses on the steady beeping of one machine in particular. She tries to match her heart rate to it in order to calm herself. Deep down, she knows that part of the reason she has been reluctant to come visit him — despite having sent flowers and a card, and having asked Jason for updates over the weeks — is because it takes her back to an all-too-familiar place. All those years of her life, and sometimes it sounds like merely a strange story that her parents told her. But she knows all too well that it is true, because of everything she learned that she missed during the time she was unconscious, and all the effort and recovery that it took to regain any kind of normal life, and the glimmers of strange memories that she still has from time to time.

“You’re going to be okay,” she says lightly. “I know it. If I woke up after all that time, you can, too. Your body just needs to rest.”

Sabrina startles when she hears a noise behind herself. She turns quickly and sees a woman whom she recognizes.

“I’m sorry,” the woman, who wears light blue nursing scrubs, says.

“Oh, no. Please. Come in. You’re– you’re Claire, aren’t you? Spencer’s mom?”

“I am.” Claire regards Sabrina with interest. “You look familiar, but I’m sorry, I can’t…”

“Sabrina Gage.” She sticks out her hand, and they shake. “I’m a friend of Spencer’s. I guess.”

“Thanks for visiting him. I was just wrapping up my shift, and I thought I’d come check on him. But I really can give you some time–”

“No, it’s okay. Stay.”

The two women observe Spencer in silence for several seconds.

“You were working for Philip, weren’t you?” Claire says. “He was my brother.”

“I was. I had no idea…” As always happens when the topic comes up, Sabrina finds herself doing a mental review of all the time she spent with and around Philip, as if this might be the time that she notices some telltale sign of the darkness within him. “I’m sorry about what your family had to go through.”

“I was as shocked as anyone. Philip and I didn’t grow up together, but I’d never had a brother, and I thought we were getting close. I never would have imagined he was capable of the things he did.”

“It just doesn’t seem like him at all,” Sabrina says.

“In some ways, no. But then I think about how cool he could be… how calculated every action and every word were. He kept things really close to the vest. I guess that’s how he fooled us all.”

“Yeah.” Sabrina glances over at Claire, who is standing beside her. “Spencer and I– we aren’t great friends or anything, but we’ve gotten to know each other a little.”

“He would appreciate you being here,” Claire says. “He’s had a lot of family around, but I’m not sure how thrilled he would be about us, to be honest…”

Sabrina gulps as she hesitates, not wanting to intrude, but she pieces together what she hopes is a respectful response. “It sounds like you’ve all had to do a lot of adjusting.”

“That’s putting it lightly. But thank you for coming to see him. The longer this goes on, the more I worry…” The pain in Claire’s eyes is evident

“Do you…” Sabrina looks back at the bed, at Spencer’s still form. “As a medical professional, how bad do you think it is? Do you think he’s going to wake up?”

—–

Samantha feels the ground beneath her feet turn to mush.

“Tempest, knock it off,” Diane says.

“Why? ‘Cuz you don’t like it?” Tempest’s anger blazes as she says, “She tricked his ass!”

Samantha remains frozen. If she moves, the entire world might slide out from under her, might give way to some horrible, bottomless nothing from which she’ll never be able to climb out. She knows that this is crazy — there is no way that reality could be anything but the one that she has come to know throughout her life. And yet there is a part of her that has always wondered about something, something that has gnawed at the edges of her consciousness over the years, leaving them ragged but easy enough to ignore. There have been times when the questions have nearly leapt out of her, but she didn’t know what to ask, not really, not since they all told her the story and seemed so sure of it, so in agreement.

She swivels toward her mother. “What’s she talking about?”

Diane is so pale that it scares Samantha.

“She’s digging into things she doesn’t understand,” Diane says. “She’s dredging up the past because she hates me–”

Samantha feels as though she is going to pass out if she doesn’t make things right. Even now, in the face of what is being said, she hates seeing her mother this anguished. But she has to know.

“Is it true?” she says.

Diane hesitates.

“It’s in the damn court documents,” Tempest says. “You’ve been loyal to her, you trust her over me, and she’s been lying to her your whole damn life.”

“Shut up!” The command rips from Diane like a mad bat tearing out of a cave. Both younger women are momentarily silenced.

Diane stares at her daughter and forces eye contact. “Samantha. I made some mistakes when I was much younger. I did some stupid, selfish things. But I have loved you from the moment you were born.”

The double-talk feels as if it is going to choke Samantha.

“Did Dad have an affair with you or not?” When Diane hesitates again, Samantha can’t help but spit, “It’s always been so weird that Travis — or Spencer, whatever — and I were so close in age. It didn’t make sense. You all tried to make it seem so normal!”

“Because we worked it out!” Diane says. “We all love you. We wanted — we want — you to have the best life you can. What happened over 20 years ago doesn’t matter–”

“Doesn’t matter?” Samantha’s throat tightens as tears sting her eyes. “You had me because you lied to Dad — if he didn’t know who you were, that’s sexual assault–”

“I am sorry!” Diane shouts, as rare tears spill suddenly from her eyes, too. “I have been sorry about this every day since you were born, and I will be sorry until the day I die. I can’t change what happened. I was crazy and out-of-control, and– I had a daughter. I had a daughter I love so much, and I was kept from her for years.”

“Because you raped someone!” With her arms and legs tingling, Samantha’s head darts around. She sees her phone and keys on the dining table. “I can’t be around you right now.”

“You shouldn’t drive like this,” Diane says.

Tempest steps between them. “I’ll go with her. You’ve done enough.”

Samantha had somehow almost forgotten that her girlfriend was here; she felt like she and her mother were in some bubble, out of time, out of real life. But now that she sees Tempest again, she sees the anger in her, but also the weird sense of satisfaction at having exposed this.

“I can’t be around you, either,” Samantha snaps.

Tempest recoils. “What the hell?”

“You thought this would make things better?” Samantha’s hand shoots out and twists the doorknob. “Leave me alone. Both of you.”

She runs out the door, not even bothering to close it, and keeps running until she reaches her car in the parking lot. Only then does she look up, in time to see Tempest and Diane racing down the stairs on the side of the building.

Samantha starts the engine and backs her car out of the space, desperate to get away from both of them.

—–

“Why would you think it’s okay to bite Bree?”

Jason stands in the kitchen of their house, his hands planted on his knees as he bends down to address his daughter. Sophie holds a hand to her mouth, chewing softly on it as she searches for whatever the ‘right’ answer might be.

“Sophie,” he prompts her. “Come on. Why did you bite Bree?”

“Because she was making me go to bed! It’s not fair!”

He tosses an exasperated look over his shoulder at Natalie and Bree.

“Everyone has to sleep at some point,” Jason says. “I’m going to sleep later. So is Bree.”

Sophie’s face scrunches up in frustration as she stares over at Bree. “Why does she get to stay up and I have to go to bed?”

“Because she’s older.”

“She’s a butthead!”

He can tell from every signal Sophie is giving him — her body language, her tone of voice — that she is exhausted, that she is rebelling simply for the sake of rebelling. This is not something that he wanted to deal with tonight, when he had plans for himself and Natalie.

“Go to your room,” he orders.

“No!”

“Now.”

“No! I’ll bite you!”

“You will not.” He takes her by the shoulders, careful not to be too rough. “I am your father, and you’re going to bed because I say so. Got it? Keep pushing me and you’re spending the rest of your summer indoors.”

“You suck!”

“Hey,” Natalie says, stepping toward them. She kneels down, putting one bare knee to the hardwood floor. “Sophie. Listen to me.”

Reluctantly, Sophie does so, though it looks to Jason that it’s as much to obey Natalie as it is to ignore him.

“We left Bree in charge tonight,” Natalie says calmly. “Her job was to make sure that you and Peter were safe until we got home. She was supposed to go to bed as soon as we were home, because she has practice in the morning. No one is doing this to be mean to you.”

Sophie’s face crinkles even harder. “But why didn’t you want to see me when you got home?”

“It isn’t that,” Natalie tells the girl. “We wanted you to get your sleep so we can all have fun tomorrow.”

Jason can see Sophie relaxing, and his own blood pressure starts to slow.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and get into bed so you can sleep? If you’re good, we can stop at that waffle place on the way home from Bree’s practice.”

“Promise?” Sophie asks, seemingly convinced that this could be a trick.

“I promise. But you have to sleep. And no more biting. Ever.”

Sophie exhales, as if this might take serious effort. “Okay.”

“What do you say to Bree?” Jason chimes in.

This time, Sophie can barely make eye contact. “I’m sorry, Bree.”

“Thanks,” Bree says, arms folded in front of her long, lithe body.

Sophie scampers upstairs, and Bree says her goodnights, too. Jason dims the kitchen lights.

“Thank you for handling that,” he says. “I feel like an idiot for snapping at her.”

“Please. We all do it sometimes. That’s why it’s good there are two of us.”

“Yeah… Hey, how about a glass of wine in the yard before we turn in?”

“That sounds great.”

“I’ll meet you out there,” he says. “I think we have a bottle of red open.”

“If not, there’s another one in the basket,” Natalie says, pointing toward the decorative wicker piece on the side counter.

She goes outside, and Jason pours two glasses of red wine and follows. He finds her sitting in an Adirondack chair under the night sky, which is gleaming with bright golden dots.

“Here’s to a beautiful night,” he says, holding up his glass, “and to you being a much better hostage negotiator than me.”

They clink glasses.

“It really was nice to get out,” Natalie says. “We have to do that more often. Maybe with less biting, though.”

As they laugh together, Jason looks over at her. He has been staring at her all evening, but her beauty under the moonlight takes him aback. Suddenly, he is setting down his wine glass and reaching into his pocket.

“Sorry we didn’t get to go for that walk,” he says, “because there’s something I wanted to do.”

Natalie seems caught off-guard. “What was that?”

He slides out of the chair and onto one knee. The stone patio is jagged even through his pants leg. Natalie covers her mouth with a hand.

“Natalie Bishop,” he says, revealing the ring box and the diamond inside, “I never expected that I would be this happy again, let alone find someone who could be a partner, who could be my home. Will you do me the honor of being my wife?”

“Oh my god.” She lets out something akin to a squeal. “Yes. Yes!”

He takes her hand and places the ring on her finger, and then she is pulling him to his feet so that they can come together in a kiss.

—–

Claire draws a deep breath. “I really don’t know. They changed his status from coma to a persistent vegetative state a few days ago.”

“He could still be okay,” Sabrina says. “I was.”

Claire cocks her head, confused.

“I was in a vegetative state. For years,” Sabrina explains. “After a really bad car accident.”

“Oh, that’s right. I’m sorry, I should have known that. I remember hearing…”

“What Shannon Parish did. Yeah,” Sabrina finishes for her. “That’s how she was able to use my identity. Because I was still alive but I wasn’t out doing anything.”

“You seem to be doing really well,” Claire says. “I hope that’s the case.”

“It is, mostly. But if I can get better, so can Spencer.” Again Sabrina focuses on the man lying in the bed. “I’m sure I was aware of people who were around me, even when I couldn’t respond. I could hear things, and when my eyes would open, I could see. I don’t really remember specific things, but… I remember the feeling.”

An appreciative smile crosses Claire’s mouth. “There have been a lot of studies that patients react to stimuli — the voices of loved ones, or photos if their eyes are open — but it’s really comforting to hear that. Thank you.”

“I just want him to wake up and be all right.”

“Me, too.” They share a moment of hopeful silence. “I do need to take care of a few things before I leave for the night, but it was really nice talking to you. Stay as long as you like. I promise I won’t tell anyone.”

“Thank you,” Sabrina says.

With a grateful nod, Claire heads for the door. That’s when they hear it:

“Help…”

It is almost more of a groan than a fully formed word, but the sound is unmistakable. Both women freeze.

“Help… me…”

“Spencer,” Claire says, rushing back into the room. “Can you hear me?”

“Help,” he croaks again. His eyes are open, and he seems to be seeing Claire in front of him.

“It’s happening,” Claire says to Sabrina. “He’s waking up!”

END OF EPISODE 887

Will Spencer be able to recover as Sabrina has?
Is Natalie’s happiness about to be very short-lived?
How will Samantha process what she’s just learned?
Was Tempest wrong to unleash Diane’s secret?
Leave your thoughts on this episode below!

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