Previously…
– Diane asked her mother about who “Therese” might be after her delirious father called her by that name, and Claudia’s strange reaction convinced Diane to hire Sarah to investigate who the women might be.
– Caleb’s grounding, following his brush with the law after he was caught buying drugs for Jasmine, came to an end.
– Members of the Fisher family were divided over Jason’s petition for full custody of Peter.

The rhythmic beeping of machines provides an eerie sort of soundtrack as Diane Bishop stands in her father’s room in the hospital’s Intensive Care Unit. She observes him lying in the narrow bed, with the guards raised on either side to prevent him from falling out. It is still difficult for her to fathom how that withered, gray man in that bed is the stoic, strong-willed father she has known all her life.

She has spent so much time here over the past several weeks, and she doesn’t even know why. Well, she knows why — because he is her father, and that’s what she is supposed to do — but considering how she has gone years without much contact with him, it has been strange to find herself here day after day, witnessing the end of his life. But she has felt compelled to return, to check on him and on the mother she has spent so much time avoiding throughout her adult life; there is something so incomprehensible about knowing that her father will likely die soon, leaving her mother alone, that she feels as if she must keep returning in order to make any sense of it.

She is quickly checking a work-related e-mail on her phone when she hears a weary voice speaking to her.

“Diane,” Henry says weakly. “Hello.”

“Dad. Hi.” She tucks her phone back into her purse and steps nearer to the bed. “Good morning.”

He lets out a heavy sigh, and Diane swears that she can hear individual muscle fibers rattling as he does so.

“I slept through the night?” he asks.

“Looks like it. How do you feel?”

For a brief moment, she sees a spark of life flicker behind his eyes.

“Terrible,” he finally says. Even the single word sounds so labored, like it has required so much energy. “Where’s your mother?”

“She’ll be back from the hotel in a little while. She went to take a shower.”

“I wish…” He pauses, though it seems forced upon him by his body. “I wish she would sleep there. It isn’t right for her to spend her nights…” This time, a wheeze interrupts him. “…trying to sleep here.”

“She wants to be with you.”

“I know. I…” Henry sucks in a breath. “I didn’t want this for her. For any of you.”

Diane bites her tongue, not wanting to argue with him right now. She knows that he believes he was doing them all a favor by concealing his illness until it became too severe to ignore, and there is no convincing him otherwise.

“Well, she’ll be back soon,” Diane tells him. “Can I get you anything? Food?”

His gaunt neck shakes his head slowly.

“I don’t have much of an appetite right now,” he says. “How long have you been here? I don’t want to keep you.”

“You aren’t.” But something occurs to her, now that she has him alone and he seems so lucid. “There is something I want to ask you, though.”

Seconds pass as he swallows and fixes his eyes upon her.

“What’s that?”

“You said something while you were in and out of consciousness,” Diane says. “I’m wondering what it meant.”

Henry looks at her curiously.

“You thought I was someone named Therese,” she explains. “Who is that?”

—–

Molly Taylor’s bare flesh nuzzles against the 1,000-thread-count sheets as she stretches, savoring every inch of the warm, luxurious king bed. Hints of light enter her consciousness as her mind slowly awakens, and a familiar and very inviting aroma drifts toward her.

“Mmm,” she murmurs as she slowly opens her eyes.

“Good morning,” Conrad Halston’s voice says, though it is not coming from beside her in the bed.

Molly turns and, with eyes still testing out the brightness of the world, finds him in the doorway of his townhouse’s master bedroom, clad only in his plush white robe, with two mugs in his hands.

“You slept late,” he says as he approaches with the coffee. “You must’ve needed it.”

In her black silk negligee, she wriggles up to a sitting position against the headboard and glances at the time on the high-end alarm clock perched on the side table.

“I must have,” she replies with a coy smile. “Especially after you tired me out last night.”

He raises a knowing eyebrow as he hands her one of the steaming cups of coffee.

“I’d say that was worth every moment,” Conrad says as he takes a seat on the edge of the bed.

“It was.” Molly breathes in deeply, enjoying the coffee’s enticing scent. “Thank you for this. And for that.”

“My pleasure. Truly.”

They sip their coffee in peaceful quiet for a few seconds. Molly feels the caffeine kicking her synapses back to life.

“Looks like a beautiful day,” she says. “Maybe the winter gloom is finally passing.”

“Let’s not count our chickens before they hatch. You know how the Northwest can be.”

“True. Let’s not jinx it.”

“What do you have planned today?” Conrad asks.

“I’m supposed to go over to Jason’s for lunch,” Molly says. “He’s really having a tough time of it lately.”

“I’m sure.” Conrad’s lips tighten into a straight line, and his silence is alive with things unspoken.

“What?” Molly prompts him.

“Frankly,” he says, “I wish your brother would drop this custody suit before he makes things even worse for everyone.”

—–

Soapy water runs over Claire Fisher’s hands as she stands over the sink, rinsing dishes from the dinner that she and Brent Taylor shared last night while watching a movie on Netflix. She finishes washing the final dish and is placing it in the drying rack when she hears footsteps entering the room.

“Morning,” she says to Caleb Taylor. The teenager, who is dressed in an oversized t-shirt and gym shorts over a pair of black compression tights, stops and looks at her.

“Oh. Hey.” He goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of Gatorade.

“Sleep well?” Claire asks as she dries her hands on a dishtowel.

Again he glances at her, as if surprised by her presence, and then shrugs. The awkwardness is not lost on Claire, either; because the twins spend half their time at Molly’s home, Claire has been able to stay a lot of nights at Brent’s without the boys in the house. For as serious as she is with their father, she doesn’t feel as though she has much of a relationship with his sons.

“Where’s Dad?” Caleb asks after a swig of his drink.

“Showering. We’re going to go out for breakfast and then do some shopping. Want to join us?”

He freezes and then scrunches up his face.

“Never mind,” Claire says, letting out a slight laugh. “I remember when Travis was your age — he wouldn’t have wanted to be caught dead with us, either.”

“It’s not that,” Caleb says, a little defensively.

“Caleb, it’s fine. I know hanging out with your dad and me isn’t the most appealing weekend for you.” She sets the dishtowel on the counter. “I just want to be sure that you know you’re always welcome. My goal here is not to take your father away from you.”

She tenses, wondering if she has crossed some sort of line by getting too real with him, and is relieved when he offers a slight grin.

“Nah, it’s cool,” he says. “As long as Dad is happy.”

Claire smiles. “I hope he is. I know I am.”

“Awesome.” He screws the cap back onto his Gatorade bottle and uses it to gesture in the general direction of the living room. “I’m gonna go play Fortnite.”

“Have fun,” she says, and she watches him leave. Seconds later comes the unmistakable creaking and pounding of the stairs as he charges back to his room. Claire folds and hangs the dishtowel, happy to have made even the slightest of inroads with her boyfriend’s son.

—–

Diane watches the name affect Henry. In his weakened state, his jaw goes slack, his eyes strain to bulge; the poker face of his best years is nowhere to be found.

“Who is Therese?” she asks, taking care not to sound too accusatory. Even Diane Bishop has her limits, and grilling a dying man is apparently one of them — and, even more so, she would rather get an answer than have him shut down.

“Therese,” he says quietly. His voice and his energy are so low that Diane can’t tell if there is something wistful about it.

“I asked Mom, and she flipped out on me — which tells me there’s actually something to know.”

“I… I must have been having a dream. All this medication…”

“Something is up,” she states firmly. “You know how Mom is — about as subtle as a freight train.”

“Well…” Henry gulps, a lump visibly forcing its way down his throat. “I’d say that runs in the family.”

There is a gleam about him for just a second, a pleasure in the small joke, that catches Diane off-guard. Her father has never been especially prone to wry asides, but seeing this glimmer of real life, real energy, in him touches her.

“I don’t know any… Theresa, was it?”

“Therese.” Diane crosses her arms. “I heard you clearly.”

“Diane.” Again he swallows hard. “I think…”

The statement gets lost in another heavy wheeze.

“What is it?” Diane asks, instinctively leaning in.

“I think…”

Now Henry’s head drops back against the pillow. Time slows to an impossible crawl; minutes seem to pass within microseconds as Diane processes that look on his face. She knows what is happening even before the monitor’s urgent beeping kicks in.

Within seconds, medical personnel are flooding the room and nudging her out of the way. She stands by the door, in shock, as they swarm around her father.

—–

Molly sits up a little straighter in the bed, clutching her coffee cup between both palms.

“Jason isn’t the one causing problems in this situation,” she says.

“This could have all blown over by now,” Conrad counters. “By filing this suit, he’s only dragging it on…”

“Because he believes he should be raising Peter. He would be, if Natalie had gotten her way.”

Conrad sighs. “I’m supposed to take Bree to see her grandfather today. Do you know how twisted-up that poor girl is over what’s happening with Peter?”

“I’m sure she is,” Molly says. “And Bree is a sweet kid. You know I adore her. It isn’t as if I want any of this for her.”

“I’m just saying, the Bishops are all going through a difficult time right now. For Jason to pile this on top of that–”

“Are you actually defending your nutcase of an ex-wife over my brother?” Molly places her coffee on the nightstand with a thunk.

“You know I don’t have the highest opinion of Natalie,” he says. “But she’s also Peter’s biological mother, and she’s now married to the biological father.”

“Which is a complete farce, if you ask me.”

“Be that as it may… they are married. Do you know how unusual it would be for a court to take a child away from his biological parents and hand him over to someone else?”

“Jason was legally his father until this all came out,” Molly responds, “and he still would be if Natalie and Spencer hadn’t rushed to change the birth certificate.”

“To make it accurate!”

Molly shakes her head. “I still don’t think Natalie gets a pass for her terrible decision-making and life-ruining just because her father is sick.”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“That’s what it sounds like.” Molly flings back the duvet and swings her legs off the bed. “I need to get ready for the day.”

Conrad stands up.

“I don’t want to argue over this,” he says.

“And I don’t know how we can’t argue over it, if you’re going to take Natalie’s side over Jason’s.”

She marches toward the master bath.

“Molly, wait,” Conrad says.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she tells him, without even looking back, as she closes the bathroom door.

—–

“All ready to go?” Brent asks as he arrives in the kitchen, dressed in a pair of jeans and a lightweight blue sweater.

Claire sets down the cup of herbal tea she has been enjoying.

“Am I ever. It’s a beautiful day to check out the farmers’ market.”

With a smile, he takes her hand. “Sounds great to me.”

They share a quick kiss and then exit the kitchen, walking toward the front door.

“It’s really nice waking up with you and just being here like this,” she says.

“I couldn’t agree more.”

After another kiss, they take their jackets from the hooks beside the door and slip them on.

“Guys, we’re going out!” Brent calls up the stairs. “Text me if you go anywhere.”

“Cool!” Caleb yells down a few seconds later.

“I guess that’s as much of a goodbye as you’re gonna get out of a teenager,” Brent says to Claire as they step out of the house.

“Believe me, it could be a lot worse,” she says.

They walk toward Brent’s car in the driveway… neither aware of the man in the parked car a few houses down, with his gaze fixed tightly upon them. And even when Brent starts the car, backs it out of the driveway, and pulls down the street, the man remains there, watching the house intently.

—–

“What do you mean, the machines were beeping?” Claudia Bishop demands.

“I mean they were beeping. That’s all I know,” Diane tells her mother. They stand in the waiting room outside the ICU; several feet away, a busy nurses’ station buzzes with activity.

Claudia, who is now dressed in a lavender pantsuit, sighs and swipes a hand across her forehead.

“Isn’t anyone able to tell us something?” she asks, gesticulating wildly at the bevy of hospital employees nearby.

“I’m sure we’ll hear something soon,” Diane says. The look on her father’s face continues to haunt her, but she doesn’t want to make things any worse right now.

“Oh, thank goodness!” Claudia declares, and Diane turns to see Dr. Perry, a man around her own age with whom they have become very familiar of late, approaching them.

“How is he?” Claudia asks. “Can I see him?”

The doctor’s tight expression tells Diane everything she needs to know.

“Oh, god,” she says through a gasp.

“I am so sorry,” Dr. Perry says. “Mr. Bishop went into cardiac arrest–”

“No.” Claudia’s eyes widen with horror. “No. It can’t be.”

“Mrs. Bishop, he was simply too weak–”

“No!” The older woman’s shriek fills the waiting area, drawing heads and eyes from the nurses’ station and a nearby corridor. “He isn’t gone!”

“Mom.” Diane finds herself reaching out for this woman with whom she has never felt close. But still, she grasps Claudia and pulls her in, and Claudia does not fight her as sobs overtake her.

“He can’t be gone,” Claudia says, her own body nearly limp in Diane’s arms. “He can’t.”

“It’s going to be okay,” Diane says, but she squeezes her own eyes closed, hoping to force out the image of her father sinking back into the pillow as the last wisps of life finally left him. A current of powerful emotions wash over her as she pictures Henry the way she has always thought of him — proud, strong, in-control — and it hits her that he is no more.

“It’s going to be okay,” she repeats softly, as much to Claudia as to herself, as she tries to comprehend how her father can really be gone forever.

END OF EPISODE 967

What will become of the Bishop women without Henry?
Did Molly overreact to Conrad’s stance on the custody case?
Who is watching Brent’s house?
Discuss it all in the comments below!

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