Previously…
– Tim offered to have Spencer come stay at his house while he recuperates from his fall, coma, and amnesia. He hired a live-in nurse, Sonja.
– Sarah paid Zane the $100,000 that he was blackmailing her for in order to get him to leave Tori alone.
– Samantha made it clear that she didn’t want to see Tempest after Tempest cruelly exposed how Diane conceived Sam by tricking Tim into having sex.

 

Tempest Banks’s head feels like a boulder as she slowly, painstakingly lifts it from her pillow. The rest of her body feels heavy, too, as if someone filled her with rocks during the night. Straining to clear her mind enough to process any kind of actual thought, she locates her phone on the nightstand and hits a button in order to illuminate the screen. With surprise, she realizes that it is nearly noon.

She recalls the restless night that she spent turning over in bed, picking up her phone and putting it back down again, as thoughts of Samantha and everything that has happened recently pummeled her. The sun was coming up outside by the time she dozed off.

At least I got a few hours’ sleep, she thinks as she uses every bit of energy she can muster to pull herself out of bed.

When she drags herself down the short hallway to the living room, she finds Claire Fisher reclined on the couch, reading something on her iPad, but she lowers it as soon as Tempest enters.

“You must’ve been tired,” Claire says.

“Couldn’t sleep.” Still disoriented, Tempest stops and rubs her eyes. “I was up all night. Finally passed out around dawn.”

“Oh no. I figured you needed the rest, so I didn’t want to wake you.”

“Thanks.”

“I saved you some coffee. It should still be hot.”

With another grunt of appreciation, Tempest shuffles to the galley kitchen and pours herself a hot cup of coffee. She settles at the dining table with it and notices that Claire has not resumed reading.

“You don’t gotta stop what you’re doing for me. I’m fine.”

“I know you are. I’m still allowed to be concerned.” Claire offers a compassionate smile. “You’re still pretty upset, I take it?”

Tempest takes a slow, careful sip of the coffee and wills the caffeine to flow through her veins and revive her.

“I’m a damn fool,” she says. “I don’t even know what I was thinking. I was so damn mad at Diane.”

“You wanted to hurt her the way you felt that she hurt you.”

“Yeah.” Tempest shakes her head in disbelief. “I didn’t think Sam would get mad at me. I really didn’t. I thought she’d be pissed at her mom.”

“And glad that you exposed the truth?”

“I guess,” she says with a shrug. “Like she’d stop acting like her mom did nothing wrong. ‘Cause she did — when she butted in on the adoption and what she did to Tim.”

Claire places her iPad on the coffee table and stands. “Believe me, I still have a lot of anger toward Diane for what she did to Tim. Not only did she interfere with my marriage, but she violated Tim in a way that can never be taken back. Sometimes it shocks me that he can even stand to be in the same room as her.”

“But she gets away with everything.”

“She lost custody of Samantha for years. As much as I might not be a fan of hers, she did pay in that way. And now that Samantha knows… she’s going to pay in another way, it seems.”

Tempest drops her head to the table in despair. “I didn’t want Sam to get hurt. I swear.”

“I know.” Claire pulls out one of the dining chairs and seats herself across from Tempest. “But it happened. And the most mature thing you can do is take responsibility for your part in it. Samantha will appreciate it, too.”

“She won’t even talk to me.”

“Maybe not now. It’s still a fresh wound.”

“Then what am I supposed to do?” Tempest’s voice is muffled as she talks into her folded arms and the tabletop.

“Give her some time. Reach out and make it clear how sorry you are and that you know how misguided what you did was.” Claire pauses before continuing, “I know you’re still processing a lot of emotions over what happened with your mom.”

That gets Tempest to look up at her.

“It might be good for you to talk to someone. A professional. I can set you up with someone if you’d like.” When no response comes, Claire adds, “You’ve been hit with a lot in the past year. And a lot of it has gone unaddressed. I don’t want you to feel like you’re lugging around all of this… this baggage.”

“I know.”

“I have faith that Samantha will come around. But I hope this is a warning to you to start dealing with some of this. Whatever you need, I’m hear for you.”

“Thanks,” Tempest says as she picks up her coffee again.

They sit in silence for a few more moments before Claire stands to return to the couch. She continues her reading, and Tempest takes her coffee into her room so that she can check things on her phone and get her day started at last. As much as she wants to sweep aside what Claire said and just focus on making things right with Samantha, she knows it isn’t going to be that easy. Still, the idea of sitting down with a therapist she doesn’t know and talking about her mom and all that sounds like hell.

But there is something she can do. Something she has been putting off for a long time.

Quickly she jumps into the shower, dries off, and dresses. She tucks her hair under an L.A. Dodgers cap and grabs her phone, which she uses to send a quick text.

Minutes later, she is rushing through the living room.

“Where are you off to?” Claire asks, looking up from her iPad again.

“To do something I should’ve done a long time ago.” Tempest slips her feet into a pair of sneakers sitting by the front door and then hurries out.

—–

“Samantha? Is that you?”

Tim Fisher is on his knees in the downstairs room that, until today, has served as his home office. When he bought the house a few years ago, he made sure that there were enough bedrooms upstairs for each of his children, should they choose to come stay with him. What he didn’t count on was one of them requiring a ground-floor room because of a medical condition. That is why he is packing books and knick-knacks into a cardboard box today.

“Yeah!” his daughter calls back. He hears the sound of the front door being locked, followed by her footsteps coming down the hallway.

“How’s it coming in here?” she asks as she surveys the room. The few pieces of art and photos have been taken down from the walls and set aside, and the desk has been cleared.

“I’m making progress. I want to get all of this into the garage this afternoon. They’re delivering the hospital bed tomorrow morning.” He takes a breath and rocks forward, placing his hands in the carpet. “If it were a few weeks later, your Aunt Molly said we could’ve taken the bed that Conrad has been using. Bad timing.”

“I think that means we know too many people who need hospital beds at home,” she says as she joins him on the floor. She peers into the box and sees books tossed haphazardly inside. “Here, let me organize this.”

“You don’t have to–”

“It will help you. Just trust me.”

Tim sits back on his heels as she removes the books from the box and begins to arrange them more carefully.

“Did you pick up your things?” he asks carefully.

“Yeah. It’s all in the foyer.”

“Did you run into your mother?”

“I knew she’d be at her Pilates class. And her car wasn’t outside when I got there, so I knew the coast was clear.”

“Sam,” he says gently. “You’re going to have to see her eventually.”

“Not now. Not if I try to avoid seeing her.”

“She’s your mother.”

“Because she raped you!”

The venom in her voice blows Tim back a bit. For so long, he has avoided using that word, even to himself; it makes the entire situation even harder to process, let alone handle. While he knows that he has made his peace with Diane and the past, it is still a shock to hear it laid out in such bare terms, and he understands why it has gouged such a raw wound in his daughter.

“I know I can’t tell you what to feel,” he says, “or try to predict how this is all going to play out for you. But she is your mother. She’s given her heart and soul to give you a good life.”

Samantha is intent on neatly stacking the books inside the box. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be told that you only exist because someone — someone you trust so much — did something so horrible? So vile? You and Claire had your perfect life–”

“It wasn’t perfect.”

“You loved each other, and you were building a life together. You were having a baby–”

“And James and Loretta Ragan managed to turn that into a nightmare.”

“Just because other people did terrible things doesn’t make what Mom did okay!” She slaps a hardcover book against the carpet. “The only reason I’m even alive is because she was so set on ruining your marriage that she lied to you so that you would sleep with her, and she was lucky enough that she wound up pregnant.” She shudders. “It’s so gross even to think about!”

“Sam. I hear you.” He places a hand on her shoulder and can feel her trembling with emotion beneath his touch. “I know this has been a huge shock, and so disorienting. But it changes nothing about who you are. You are an intelligent, compassionate woman who works hard and always seems to manage to put other people before herself. The story of how you were conceived has nothing to do with your character.”

She doesn’t fire a response back at him, and he can almost feel the shift in her energy — from pure rage to something quieter, yet equally despondent.

“You must have not even wanted me to exist,” she says. “How do you even look at me and not see… this living, breathing reminder of what she did to you?”

“Because.” He gets in front of her so that he can look her in the eyes. “I see my daughter. A daughter I have loved since the minute she was born. Even when I was furious with Diane over what she’d done, when I didn’t want to see her and didn’t want her around you, I’ve never felt any differently toward you. You are as much my child and a part of my heart as Travis and Spencer. It’s never been any other way, and it never will be.”

He watches her hardened expression break. Her cheeks lift as her eyes squint, blinking back tears.

“I hate this,” she says. “I hate it.”

“I know.” He scoots closer to her and wraps her in his arms. “But you have me, and your brothers, and Claire, and everyone else. Nothing about any of that changes. We all love you for exactly who you are. Do you hear me?”

He feels her nodding against him as she cries softly.

—–

“It’s so nice to see your eyes open and your mouth moving,” Paula Fisher says through the screen of the iPhone. “I just wish I could be there.”

“I’ll be out of here soon,” Spencer Ragan says. He lies in his hospital bed, his arm growing tired from holding the phone up even though it has only been about two minutes.

“I couldn’t be happier to hear that.” Paula’s eyes appear to grow misty as she smiles. “Enjoy time with your cousin and then get some rest. I’ll talk to you soon.”

Spencer says goodbye to his grandmother and ends the FaceTime call. He hands the phone back to Tori Gray, who has been waiting in a chair by his bedside.

“I can’t believe she’s not allowed to leave the house at all,” he comments.

“She can go out in the backyard and in the front.”

“Still, I’d be going nuts. Do you have any idea how bad I want to see something that isn’t the inside of this damn room?”

“Like you said, you’ll be out of here soon.”

Spencer glazes over for a few seconds, then snaps his attention back toward Tori. “Does she have one of those ankle monitor things?”

“Yup.” Tori nods emphatically. “It’s kind of crazy.”

“I still can’t believe she shot Philip.”

“You’re not mad at her, are you?”

“No.” But the word sounds hesitant, as if he is testing it out. “No. I can’t be. He… How the hell did I not notice anything?”

“No one did. And when I did, it was an accident. I still don’t know if I’d really believe it was him, if I didn’t remember…” She shudders as the sounds and images of Philip chasing after her, never far from her thoughts, flicker through once again.

“You know,” Spencer says, “one of the last things I remember is visiting you in the hospital. Now our positions are reversed.”

“And I’m fine. So you will be, too.” She is about to continue when her phone, still in her hand, vibrates. She glances down and sees that she has a new text message.

“Oh, it’s Zane,” she says as she unlocks the phone.

“That’s your boyfriend?”

“I don’t know about boyfriend… the guy I’ve been hanging out with.” But her coy grin evaporates as she reads his message.

“What’s wrong?”

“I had texted him before because we had plans tonight. He says he has to go out of town for some family emergency, though.”

“Sounds serious.”

Tori finishes typing a response before she looks up at her cousin. “Yeah. I hope everything’s okay.”

“Okay, now that we’ve got all the family stuff out of the way,” Spencer says, “tell me about this guy. Who is he? Where’d you get him?”

“It was at the chili cookoff last year.” She stops herself abruptly. “You don’t remember that, do you?”

“Nope. There was a chili cookoff?”

“Harbor Boulevard hosted it. Okay, you remember Fee C., right?”

He groans. “I wish I didn’t.”

“Well, it all starts with her showing up at the chili cookoff…”

—–

In her dining room, Paula ends the FaceTime call and stares at the  dark, blank screen of the iPad that the grandkids set up for her. The relief that she feels at seeing Spencer awake and able to talk is immeasurable; for weeks, she has feared that none of them would ever get the chance to communicate with him again, that he would never be himself again. Still, she wishes that she could actually be there with him. That technology made even that interaction possible is a blessing, but she is tired of feeling as though her entire life happens through a screen — as if there is an entire world out there, but she only gets to have a glimpse now and then as life goes on outside.

Stop feeling sorry for yourself, she reprimands herself. It’s only a year. You shot and killed a man. It could be much worse.

There are still nights when she wakes up in a cold sweat, having dreamt that she was sent to prison.

“Paula,” a voice says, forcefully pulling her from her thoughts. “There you are.”

“I was just Face-chatting with Spencer, or whatever they call it,” she says as Matt Gray enters the dining room.

“Sounds like he’s doing pretty well, all things considered.”

“He seems like himself, yes.” She can read Matt’s abundant, excited energy; bolts of it are practically flying off him. “Did you get in touch with the owner of that space?”

“Yeah. And I think we have a way to make sure we can move the restaurant there.”

Paula claps her hands together as a shocked squeal escapes her throat. “Right on the pier? Bill would love that.”

“I know. It’s not a done deal yet, but I think we’ve got a real leg up. But Travis and I were talking…”

She cocks her head with concern. “Why? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. But we need some help. I have a mission for you.”

“What is it? I’d love to help, of course, but I’m not exactly allowed to go on missions these days.”

“That’s the thing,” her son-in-law says. “This is a mission you can do from inside the house.”

—–

“Look who’s awake from his nap!” Alex Marshall announces as he carries his infant son into the living room.

Tempest, who is seated on one of the midcentury modern loveseats stationed around the coffee table, reacts with widened eyes as she takes in the sight of Chase, dressed in a light blue one-piece with a floppy-eared dog on the front.

“He’s so big now,” she marvels.

“I swear, he’s bigger every single day.” Alex bounces the little boy in his arms, as Chase flails his hands out into the air. “He’s still a little groggy, I think.”

Tempest watches her brother intently, drinking in every detail and every movement.

In the dining area, which stands just to the other side of the front door in the small, open bungalow, Trevor Brooks finishes stacking a set of papers and cards.

“We should put down the blanket so he can do tummy time,” Trevor says.

“Are you guys working on some kinda project?” Tempest asks, finally broken out of her spell enough to notice the clutter on the dining room table.

The men trade a quick look.

“We’re throwing a party,” Trevor explains. “We haven’t really socialized at all since Chase came home, and so many people haven’t seen the house yet or had the chance to meet him.”

“We thought it’d be nice to do something before the last bits of summer are gone,” Alex adds, “and it’s nothing but rain until April.”

“Try June,” Tempest says. “That’s the one thing I still miss about L.A.”

Trevor moves behind the other sofa and takes a folded blanket from a wicker basket. He spreads it on top of an area rug.

“We’re really glad that you texted,” Alex says. “I know Chase has been waiting to see you.”

She looks down at her hands as she responds. “Sorry I haven’t come or anything. It’s been weird.”

“We understand,” Trevor says as he smooths out the blanket. “But we want you to know that you’re welcome any time. We want you to be as much a part of Chase’s life as you want to be.”

Tempest nods. “Thanks. And I’m…” She lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry I was so nasty to you guys. I knew you’d make good parents. I just didn’t like… the whole thing with my mom, and how fast it all went.”

“We get it,” Alex says. “We apologize if we came off as pushy or insensitive in moving so quickly to adopt him.”

“It’s okay. Everything happened fast. I’ve been really nuts since my mom showed up — mad, sad, all over the place. I’ve done some really stupid things.”

“Nothing that can’t be fixed with an apology and some understanding,” Trevor says.

“I don’t know about that,” she says glumly.

“How would you feel about holding Chase?” Alex asks, trying to boost everyone’s mood. “Do you think you’re ready for that?”

Tempest smiles. “Yeah. I think so. Just show me what I’m supposed to do.”

Alex comes closer and bends down. He gently places the baby in her arms. “Just make sure you use your elbow to support his head — like that, yeah.

Chase eases into the crook of Tempest’s arm and nuzzles against her body. He stares up at her with wide, brown eyes, and it almost seems to her that he comprehends exactly who she is.

“Hi, Chase,” she says softly. “I’m Tempest. I’m your sister. And I’m gonna be here whenever you need me, okay?”

—–

“This will be great,” Claire says as she stands in the doorway of Tim’s one-time office, evaluating the progress that he has made today. With Samantha’s help, he has managed to move enough of the items into the garage for storage — as well as add a dresser that he picked up while he was out earlier — that this can easily serve as a bedroom for Spencer.

Tim glances over the list of essentials for Spencer’s care that she brought him. “This looks easy enough. I’ll do another run to the store later today.”

“Thank you so much.” The sense of relief in her voice is palpable. “Knowing that he’s going to be here instead of in that big house all by himself makes such a difference. If I had the room, I’d have offered to have him stay with me.”

“Believe me, I have plenty of space.” His gaze sweeps over the room, so different than it was this morning. “Weird to think that I’m going to have a full house now.”

“How’s Samantha doing?” she asks. “I didn’t get to talk with her much last night.”

“She has a lot on her plate. I don’t think she slept much last night.”

“Tempest, either.” Claire shakes her head sadly. “I can’t believe she even thought to dig into the old court records.”

“Neither can I. You know…” He bites his lower lip as he considers his choice of phrasing carefully. “I’m not too thrilled with the way she did all this without even considering Sam’s feelings. I know she’s been through a lot lately, but that doesn’t exactly strike me as the character of someone I want my daughter with.”

“I’ve let her know how disappointed I am. I’m trying to get her to go see a therapist. The good thing, I guess, is that she seems to recognize how wrong what she did was.”

“Good. I never wanted this to come out. Samantha doesn’t deserve to have to carry around this burden.”

“Not at all. And as much as I hate what Diane did,” Claire says, her jaw tensing, “we all agreed that it would be best if we buried it. I still don’t think we were wrong.”

“We weren’t.”

He exhales loudly as he takes a seat on the arm of the recliner that he has always kept in here for reading.

“How are you handling all of this?” Claire asks. “It has to be dredging up a lot of old stuff for you.”

“The weirdest part is that I’m doing okay, honestly. I know that it isn’t something I can change. And if it hadn’t happened, Samantha wouldn’t be in my life. Maybe I’ve just reframed it like that to make it easier.”

“Maybe. Yeah.” She runs a finger along the edge of the dresser as she thinks. “I know we have different feelings about this, but I still get so angry at Diane for doing that to you. She completely took away any agency you had.”

“I still didn’t have to have sex with her,” he says, a hint of guilt creeping into his voice.

“You thought she was your wife! Why wouldn’t you? It isn’t a crime that you found her attractive. But she lied, and–” Feeling herself growing too heated, Claire cuts herself off. “My point is, it’s really hard for me not to want to blame her for this entire mess. She set it all in motion.”

“She did. But now it’s something that we all have to deal with — for Sam’s sake, if nothing else.”

“I know. And I know that I don’t get to tell you how to feel. I’m glad that you’re in a place where you can face it rationally.” She pauses, then continues, “I also know that if I’d been there for you when you came back, you might not have had to turn to Diane for support. If I hadn’t been so wishy-washy about you and Ryan…”

“We can’t change the past,” Tim says, rising to his feet again, “and you were in a pretty crappy situation, too.”

She blows past that with her next statement. “I really hate that Samantha has to face this at all. But it’ll be good for her to be here, with you. She’ll develop a new sense of reality.”

“That’s what I’m hoping. Being around Spencer will be good, too — for both of them.”

“Thank you again. Seriously,” she says. “I know this might sound twisted, but it’s almost a relief that he doesn’t remember the past two years. It makes me feel like we might have a real chance at a relationship with him again.”

“Me, too. But then I worry…” He struggles to find the proper words. “What happens if — or when — he does remember how angry he was at us before his fall? We filled him in on all the other stuff, but that was a pretty big thing to leave out.”

“The way I see it, it’s for his own good. If we’d told him, he wouldn’t have agreed to stay with you, which means he’d be locked away in that huge house with no one to look after him. He needs to be with family now. If he does remember — well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Tim paces in a small circle over the carpet.

“Do you remember the day he was born?”

“Of course I do.”

“The feeling, I mean. That we were responsible for this little life, that there might be some way we could protect him from the world.” He lets out a small, mocking laugh. “How naive were we?”

“Sometimes I wish that I could be that naive again,” Claire says wistfully.

“This is so not how I envisioned our lives turning out.”

“Not even close. But you know what? We’ve gotten through a heck of a lot. And we’re going to keep getting through it. All of us. Together.”

Tim looks at her — at the woman he once married, the woman with whom he thought he would spend the rest of his life — and finds himself smiling, in spite of all the struggles that have come their way recently.

“I guess that’s the only choice we have,” he says.

END OF EPISODE 892

Will Samantha be able to get past her devastation?
Can Tim and Claire forge a real relationship with Spencer?
Will Tori figure out what Zane is actually doing?
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