Previously…
– Alex and Trevor threw a surprise wedding, but Samantha did not attend because she wanted to avoid her mother and Tempest.
– Lauren and Josh visited with their young daughter for the wedding.
– Jason and Natalie shared news of their engagement with family and friends.
– Tim hired a nurse and physical therapist, Sonja, to help Spencer with his recovery.
– Matt managed to secure a space on Pier 22 – where Bill’s first restaurant resided – for the new eatery set to replace Harbor Boulevard.

On the 18^th floor of Winston Tower in downtown King’s Bay, a hand knocks softly on an open door. The man at the desk looks up from his laptop computer.

“Hi! Whoa, what is that?” Trevor Brooks asks with surprise.

“It’s a wedding present,” Samantha Fisher says as she enters his office at Objection Designs, carrying a box wrapped in embossed, blue-and-gold paper and topped with a white bow.

“You didn’t have to do that. We insisted on no gifts.” Trevor turns around one of the guest chairs so that she can set the box down on it.

“I wanted to. It’s the least I can do to apologize for missing the wedding.”

He chuckles. “You didn’t even know it was a wedding. No one did.”

“I know, but it was still selfish of me to skip your party because of my own issues.” She pauses, knotting her fingers together. “Some things happened recently…”

Trevor nods somberly. “Alex told me. Your mom filled him in. How are you holding up? This has to be a lot.”

“It is.”

“Here, sit.” He motions toward the other chair. As she seats herself, Trevor moves back around the desk to his own chair.

“I don’t blame you for wanting to steer clear of your mom and Tempest for a while,” he tells his younger coworker.

“I knew it probably get dramatic – especially knowing the two of them – and it didn’t seem like your party was the right place for that. Especially since it turned out to be a wedding.” She pushes a smile across her face. “My dad said it was a really sweet wedding.”

Trevor is unable to conceal his own joy at the memory of his and Alex’s big day. “It was incredible. At first I thought… a backyard wedding? That no one even knows they’re showing up for? But that spontaneous feel made it even more special. Everyone was so excited for us, and… I know it’s super-corny, but I felt like we were surrounded by so much love.”

He drums his fingers against the desk for a few seconds. “Honestly, I already went through all the craziness of planning a big, formal wedding with Liam – and look how that turned out. It was cool to have this be a totally different experience.”

“I’m really, really happy for you guys. You deserve this. You’ve been such good friends to me, especially while I was… figuring everything out. And I could never thank you enough for helping me get this job.”

“You deserve to be happy, too. I’m sorry you’re going through this whole thing.” He levels a serious gaze upon Samantha. “I know you haven’t felt ready to see Tempest yet, but do you think you’ll want to at some point? Do you think there’s any chance for the two of you to work things out?”

—–

An insistent breeze weaves its way through Bayside Cemetery, winding around the trees and over the grave markers. Rust-colored leaves skitter over the grass. Jason Fisher stoops down to place the bouquet of brilliant red roses in front of his late wife’s headstone.

“I can’t believe it’s been eight years,” he says softly. “There were times I didn’t think I could go eight days without her.”

Lauren Brooks touches his arm gently. She stands beside Jason, her attention focused on the name – “Courtney Chase Fisher” – etched into the beautiful stone.

“I know what you mean,” Lauren says. “There are still times that things happen, and my first thought is, ‘I need to text Court’… and then I remember.”

Jason lets out a long, loud sigh. “I miss her so much.”

“So do I.”

“You know, there are times I look at Sophie, and… I can’t even put my finger on exactly what it is, but I just see her there. It’s like I went back in time 30 years and I’m looking right at Courtney.”

“Probably when Sophie has her hands on her hips, telling you what to do.” A tiny laugh escapes Lauren’s throat. “Do you know how many times I stopped by one of your practices and saw Courtney like that?”

Jason cannot help but join her in laughing at the recollection of such a vivid, specific image; what once irritated him now makes for a fond but bittersweet memory. “She could definitely be a little bossy.”

“But I guess that’s part of why we loved her.” Lauren raises her voice and directs it right at the grave. “Court, do you hear us? We want you back here, bossing us around–”

“And telling us exactly how things should be,” Jason adds before settling into a more solemn tone. “You know, it’s good to laugh about this stuff.”

“It is. We love her! This is what you do with people you love: you tease.”

“Yeah.” He falls silent as a cluster of leaves blow over their shoes. “Want to hear something weird?”

Lauren looks at him with a twinkle in her eye. “Always.”

“I keep feeling like I need to come here and really talk to Courtney. About Natalie and… everything that’s going on. But then I try to do it, and I get overwhelmed, so I just stay home or do something else, and… it’s like I feel I need her permission.”

“I think that’s pretty normal.”

“Maybe. I feel guilty. I know that’s ridiculous, but I do. I’m down here, moving on with my life, and Court is…”

“She would want you to be happy,” Lauren says. “I know that’s a cliché, but it’s true. Courtney would not have wanted you to stay single for the rest of your life. Not if you managed to find real love again. Which you did.”

“Yeah.” Jason looks down at the green grass. “Natalie is great. She’s really funny, and she has this unique, twisted perspective on things. It kills me. And she’s awesome with Sophie.”

“Those sound like good reasons to fall for someone.”

“I know.”

She turns toward him, choosing her next words carefully. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The answer slips out perhaps too quickly. “Nothing, really.”

“You shouldn’t feel guilty.”

“I know. I’m trying.” He pauses to look up at the soupy gray sky. “Everything happened so quickly, too. We weren’t planning on having a kid.”

“But you love Peter.”

“Of course I do!”

“You and Courtney didn’t plan to have a baby, did you?”

“No, but…”

“In fact, as I remember it, neither of you were even sure you could be a parent,” Lauren says. “And you couldn’t pull it together enough to admit you wanted to get back together!”

“Okay, you might be right there. So I guess I’m getting married again, huh?”

“By the looks of that ring Natalie showed me, it certainly seems like it. Besides, it gives me a good excuse to visit again.”

Jason wraps an arm around his old friend and pulls her closer. “It’s so great having you here. Are you sure you guys need to head back to L.A.?”

“For the time being, I’m afraid we do,” Lauren says. “But King’s Bay is always going to be home. And I have a feeling that someday, we’ll be back again. For good.”

—–

“How does that look?” Tim Fisher calls out as he balances atop a stepladder, his hands steadying the framed painting of Mount Rainier against the wall.

“That’s great. It’s perfectly even,” his sister says. Molly stands a few feet away, arms folded as she evaluates the latest item that they have hung on the walls of the space that will, in a few days’ time, again house their family’s restaurant.

“Great. Thanks.” Tim climbs down from the ladder. “Only a few more of these to go.”

She nods approvingly as she looks around the restaurant. The black frames on the walls compliment the soothing gray tone of the paint, which evokes the atmosphere of the bay itself on so many of the Pacific Northwest days that the siblings know so well. Aside from the two of them, the main dining room is currently empty, though the sounds of ongoing construction in the kitchen fill the air.

“It looks fantastic in here,” Molly says. “I think Dad would love it.”

“I think so, too. Something about being back on Pier 22 is just right.”

“It really is.” She picks up the tape measure and stretches it across the wall to determine the placement of the next piece of art. “Which one comes next?”

Tim glances at the hand-drawn diagram that their mother made, describing which items should be hung where.

“This one,” he says as he folds the list back up and points to an enlarged print of a photograph of the King’s Bay waterfront as it appeared a full century ago. As he carries it over to the appropriate spot on the wall, he tells Molly, “Thanks for making time to do this with me.”

“I’m more than happy to do it.” She slides the stepladder over toward where they will need it next. “It’s fun to be a part of this. Plus it gets me away from the office for a few hours.”

He cocks his head to the side. “That does not sound like my sister. What’s going on at work?”

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “Going back has just been much tougher than I imagined it would be. It’s like people won’t take me seriously because of the trial and all the media attention – like I was never a capable designer in the first place.”

“That’s a bunch of bull, and you know it. You’re so talented.”

“Try telling that to my design team. Or the board. It’s like I used to have some magical power to convince them to trust my judgment, and now I’ve lost it, and any idea I present has to be vetted so hard that it barely resembles the original idea by the time we get it down the production line.”

“Maybe it will take a little time,” he offers. “Once you get through this first round of creating and the products come out and receive a good reception… you’ll be back in your groove.”

“I hope so. Regardless, it’s nice to be away from all that for a few hours. And I can only imagine how happy Dad would be to see us all working together.”

“I think he really would be. Plus it’s keeping Mom occupied.”

“I feel so bad that she has to miss the grand opening,” Molly says, as an all-too-familiar cloud of guilt rolls over her. “I know it’s better than her spending time in prison, but the fact that she has to serve any kind of sentence at all after what Philip did…”

Tim places a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Molly. Don’t go down that road. What’s done is done. If I could go back in time and shoot Philip for both of you, I would – but I can’t. Mom is going to be okay.”

“I hope so.”

“She will be. We’ll Skype her in during the party, and it won’t be long before she can take off that ankle monitor and come here herself. What’s really important is that Dad’s dream gets to live on in this place – knowing that is keeping Mom going, I think.”

“You’re right,” Molly says as she affixes a brave expression upon her face. “Now let’s get the rest of these things hung up so we can cross one project off the list.”

—–

“Three…”

Sonja Kahele stands beside the bed in the downstairs room of Tim Fisher’s house, which has been converted into a bedroom for Spencer Ragan while he recovers from his coma. Atop the bed, Spencer’s face strains in agony as he lifts his left leg several inches off the bed. He lowers it before taking a deep breath and beginning to raise it once more.

“Four,” Sonja counts. She sees Spencer grimacing as his leg shakes, its muscles pushed to the brink of their capacity by this relatively simple exercise.

“Come on,” she encourages him. “Just one more after this.”

With excruciating slowness, Spencer manages to hold his leg several inches off the mattress before lowering it. He releases all tension as it falls the final few millimeters to the bed, and then he grunts as he attempts to lift it again.

“You can do it,” Sonja says.

“I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. You’re strong.”

But as much as Spencer tenses and tries, his leg remains frozen an inch or so above the bed. Finally he lets it drop again, and it is as if every molecule of energy within him shoots outward. He sinks into the bed, utterly spent.

“I can’t even lift my damn leg five times,” he says.

“That’s why I’m here. This is a process, Spencer. If it were easy, you’d be back on your feet already without any trouble.”

He refuses to make eye contact with her.

“I’m going to do some passive exercises to keep your muscles moving,” she says before taking his ankle in one hand and slipping the other beneath his knee. Slowly she presses his leg into a bent position and toward his chest.

She sees his jaw tense and his rigid body bracing against the bed.

“You are making progress,” she tells him. “You couldn’t even do three lifts last week. Today you did four full ones.”

“Big fucking deal. I lifted my leg four whole times. I’m a goddamn invalid.”

Sonja blinks against the coarse language; it certainly isn’t the first time she has encountered it with her patients. “You’re in recovery.”

“I can’t believe this is my life,” he says, rocking his head side-to-side on the pillow. She continues to press his leg in a slow, methodical rhythm. “How the hell am I ever going to walk again – let alone move like a normal person?”

She lets his left leg go and switches to the right. “Not by feeling sorry for yourself.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You know what? Just let go of me. Leave me alone.”

“I’ve seen people in much worse shape than you make incredible recoveries,” she says as she continues to hold his right leg. “Do you know how?”

“Rainbows and sunshine and– I swear, if you say faith or God or something–”

“Hard work. Commitment. Not giving up. You’re young, and you’re strong. You can do this. But if you want to throw in the towel where people decades older than you, people in much worse shape than you, wouldn’t – then I can’t do the work for you.”

Embarrassment swells up inside him. He stares up at the ceiling.

“Finish doing my right leg,” he says, still not looking at her.

“I was going to, anyway.” She resumes the movements. “And then, tomorrow, we keep working until you’re back to your old self. Deal?”

Spencer lets out a groan. “Fine.”

—–

“I don’t know,” Samantha admits after a long pause. “I never thought Tempest was capable of something so nasty.”

“And you got hurt pretty badly in the process,” Trevor says from across the desk. “It has to be a huge shock.”

“That doesn’t begin to describe it. Everyone has been lying to me my entire life. Everyone has been pretending that I’m just another kid who was born, but in reality… the only reason I exist is because my mom needed a pawn to try and break up my dad and Claire.”

“That is not all you are to anyway. Not even your mom – especially not your mom. I think you know that.”

“I don’t know what to think anymore.” She pushes out the chair and stands. “Actually, it’s been a big help to have work to occupy me. And I have a few more things to finish–”

“Samantha. Wait.” Trevor rises from his seat, too. “I don’t want to intrude on something that isn’t really my business. But I really do care about you. Alex and I both do. If you need to shut people out because of things they’ve done, or… or because you worry you can’t trust them, that’s one thing. But please don’t do it because you feel like you aren’t worthwhile.”

Unable to come up with a response, she purses her lips. A wild wave of emotion surges inside her, and she feels herself fighting to hold together the cracked, battered dam that is barely managing to restrain it.

“I can’t even think about getting back together with Tempest right now,” she finally says. “Or having any kind of relationship with my mom. I don’t know if I ever can.”

“One day at a time, then. But I want you to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“If you ever need to talk – even if you just want to say crazy, mean things that Samantha Fisher usually doesn’t let herself say – I want you to come in here and close that door and talk to me like I’m your friend, not a coworker. Just promise me that.”

It takes a few seconds, but she finds herself nodding, and her muscles relax ever so slightly. “I can do that.”

END OF EPISODE 896

Should Samantha give Diane or Tempest a second chance?
Is Jason truly ready for marriage to Natalie?
Will the grand opening of the new restaurant go smoothly?
Discuss it all in the comments below!

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