Since You Went Away - Chapter Ten: Bringing Up Baby

[ubiquitousmixie]

Title: Since You Went Away - Chapter Ten: Bringing Up Baby
Authors: i-must-go-first & UbiquitousMixie
Fandom: Brenda/Sharon, The Closer
Rating: PG-13 (Overall M)
Word Count: 8337
Disclaimer: Not ours. Please don’t sue.
Summary: A late-night craving and a coincidental meeting lead a certain deputy chief to discover that there’s much more to the inimitable Captain Raydor than meets the eye, and to realize that her mama was right: sometimes all a single woman really needs is a good girlfriend.
Authors’ Note: You like us, you really like us! That is awesome -- you are all awesome -- and we are thrilled to find that we actually have so many loyal readers. Here’s to you. Read on to see whether Brenda Leigh has finally met her match in the littlest Raydor.

---

Brenda Leigh drummed her fingers nervously against the steering wheel of Sharon’s car and chewed the inside of her cheek, unattractively pulling her lips aside to allow her better access to indulge in her nervous habit. She took a deep breath as she glanced at the sign indicating that she was about to turn onto Sharon’s road, briefly considering turning around and high-tailing it home. But she wouldn’t do that--she would never break a promise to Sharon--and so she turned onto the quiet street and navigated the car into the driveway.

She knew that it was completely irrational to be so apprehensive about meeting a child who was not even two years old, but Brenda felt an absurd amount of pressure. It was one thing to have briefly met Daniel, who had already established a faint mistrust and disapproval of her (or, at least, of Deputy Chief Johnson), but it was quite another to start anew with a little girl. She’d always felt that young children were untempered, quick studies of character. They were too young to have any rational opinions on how they felt about a person. They either liked you or they didn’t, and Brenda wondered just how much of a song and dance she would have to put on to sway the toddler’s opinion in her favor.

Deciding to leave her overnight bag in the car, Brenda finally decided that if she could face rapists and murders on a daily basis, she could most certainly face Clarissa.

Sharon opened the door after one sturdy knock, her hand elevated in a faux wave, which Brenda cheekily returned with a brisk wiggle of her fingers. The captain looked much better today, her color restored and her dissatisfied scowl replaced by a pleasant smile. Whether Clarissa liked her or not, the child certainly did wonders for Sharon’s disposition.

“I thought you might stay in the car all morning,” Sharon remarked, allowing Brenda to sweep inside the house. “Don’t tell me you’re nervous.”

She dropped the keys into Sharon’s palm. “Me? Nervous? About a kid?” She guffawed and Sharon almost bought it. Wide brown eyes scanned what little she could see of the living room. “Feelin’ better?”

“It hurts like a bi--” Sharon smirked, throwing a cautious glance toward the living room. “It hurts.”

“And how’s the little one?”

Before Brenda could find out just how the child was faring on that beautiful, sunny morning, Clarissa burst into the foyer with a spring in her step, careening toward Sharon’s legs. She curled her little arms around one of Sharon’s calves and stared up at her, her large green eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Cee, this is our friend, Brenda. Can you say hi?”

They both looked down expectantly at the child and Brenda held her breath, smiling down at the precious girl. She looked exactly like she imagined Sharon had at her age, her head covered in a tumble of dark brown curls. Brenda waved at Clarissa, waiting for her cue. The child stared for a moment and then grinned, proudly showing off her collection of tiny white teeth, and proceeded to shyly hide her face in Sharon’s leg.

The child didn’t show any immediate signs of moving, so Brenda addressed Sharon in a low voice. “So Paul was okay with you takin’ her with your hand hurt?”

“Not exactly,” Sharon replied in the same low voice, shooting the other woman a meaningful look. More loudly she asked, “Cee! Where’s Flopsy?”

Suddenly stunned, the toddler looked up at her grandmother with perfectly round eyes and mouth, and then careened back the way she had come. Sharon watched her go and then explained, “Grandpa Paul would’ve been fine with it, but Grandma Helen would’ve freaked out, so I made Daniel our co-conspirator. He picked her up and brought her over here.”

Brenda grinned crookedly. “So I guess adult kids are good for somethin’ once in a while.”

“Once in a while,” Sharon agreed. “He has an all-day bio lab today, but it was all I could do to get him to go. I thought I was going to have to call you and put him on the phone so you could tell him you were really coming over here.”

The blonde looked worried. “I wasn’t late, was I?”

“No. My son is always early.”

Brenda sniffed. “How surprising. Well, I guess I can’t blame Daniel for thinkin’ I might not be entirely trustworthy.”

Sharon waved that off. “Come on in. You want a cup of coffee?”

“I’d love one,” replied the younger woman, who still wasn’t totally sure how she felt about being awake, showered, clothed, and out of her house at 8:00 on a Saturday morning when she didn’t have to work.

“You’ll need it, to keep up with her. Whatcha doin’, munchkin?” Sharon called as they walked past the door of the living room. The child sprawled in the middle of the rug gabbled out an answer Brenda couldn’t decipher, although Sharon nodded sagely, and then Clarissa held up a ragged stuffed rabbit clad in a green dress.

“Flopsy,” Sharon explained, smiling. “Her constant companion. She was Vivvy’s.”

Clarissa flashed them a triumphant grin and scrambled to her feet. “Nana,” she announced loudly, and at first Brenda thought she was calling Sharon by name, and wondered if there was a tactful way to suggest a change of grandmotherly titles. Surely Sharon Raydor wasn’t anyone’s “Nana”?

“In the kitchen,” Sharon replied. “Come on.”

Brenda thought her friend was summoning her to retrieve the promised coffee and turned obediently, but Clarissa bounded toward them with that peculiar jog-trot all toddlers master, dragging Flopsy by one ear, and after a few more seconds Brenda realized the toddler was being called into the kitchen to eat the banana she’d just requested.

Brenda frowned. Clearly she had a few things to learn. It was lucky she’d always been good with riddles.

When she entered the kitchen, Brenda observed the little girl dancing around Sharon’s ankles while the captain cut up a banana with a butter knife. She nearly laughed at the domesticity, having never been able to really see Sharon playing this role. Now that she was observing it with her own eyes, Brenda couldn’t imagine Sharon not playing this part.

“Will you put her in her chair?” Sharon asked, nodding toward the highchair by the table.

Brenda’s eyes were saucers when she looked down at the wiggling child and then at the chair, trying to imagine how she’d pull this off without actually touching her. Sharon chuckled to see the look of alarm on her face as she dumped the bananas into a bright blue plastic bowl.

“Come on now, Brenda Leigh. This is what you signed up for, after all.”

“Right.” Taking a fortifying breath, Brenda came up alongside Clarissa, hoping that the child would at least make eye contact before she up and grabbed her.

“She doesn’t bite,” Sharon prompted. She paused and amended her statement: “Well, not anymore--most of the time. I make no promises about what may happen if you put your finger near her mouth. I think she’s learning to reciprocate after nearly two years of playful toe-biting.”

Brenda forced a laugh and finally reached down to grab Clarissa, cradling her legs with her other arm as she swept her over toward the highchair. For good measure, Brenda threw in a few exaggerated noises and, to her surprise and immense satisfaction, Clarissa giggled.

She made quick work of the little buckles in the chair that would keep the child from tumbling out headfirst before snapping on the tray. Sharon busied herself pouring the coffee and Brenda noticed with a giddy surge of appreciation that Sharon had remembered the honey that she so liked. A grin on her face, Brenda reached for the bowl of diced fruit.

“Uh...” Brenda began, looking at the toddler’s outstretched hands. “How does this work? Do I feed it to her or does she do it herself?”

Sharon snorted. “She can feed herself.”

Relieved, Brenda set the bowl in front of Clarissa and watched the toothy, beaming smile break over the girl’s face as she reached little fingers into the bowl to retrieve a banana cube. She inspected it for a moment before bringing it to her mouth.

“She’s adorable,” Brenda announced after a few moments of watching this repeated cycle. “Just the cutest lil thing!”

Sharon set down Brenda’s mug of coffee before turning back to retrieve her own. “She’s won you over already? I expected it to take at least until noon.”

“How can you not adore her? Look at those teeny little fingers and those gigantic eyes...” Brenda bit her lip. She gave a wistful sigh.

“If you start singing ‘Baby Love’, I will shoot you.”

Brenda arched an eyebrow. “You’re the one who apparently liked this enough to have two,” she pointed out, and Sharon rolled her eyes.

“It’s not like the drive thru, you know, Brenda. You don’t get to place an order. It runs in families.”

Brenda looked askance. “Havin’ kids?”

“Having twins.” Sharon wet a washcloth and handed it to the other woman. “You’re going to need that.”

Looking back at Clarissa, Brenda immediately agreed. Somehow a few banana cubes seemed to have found their way into the little girl’s hair and onto her chin. She looked to her friend for guidance, as unsure of how to go about cleaning a toddler as she would have been if she were tasked with bathing a baby elephant.

“You can let her finish first.” Sharon lowered herself into another chair and twisted her torso so she could rest her right elbow along the back and still keep her hand elevated. She emitted a small groan of relief.

The blonde frowned. “You know, you’re probably doin’ too much. You should be lettin’ me do the things like cut up her bananas.”

“There will be enough for you to do, I promise.”

They sat in comfortable silence for several minutes, sipping their coffee while Clarissa ate her banana. Eventually Clarissa started to sing to herself, apparently at ease with her audience, and Sharon reached for the bright blue bowl. “All finished, honey? What do we do with the rest?”

Clarissa’s song trailed off and she looked at the banana cubes left in the bowl, and then up into her grandmother’s face, before darting a series of quick, hesitant glances at Brenda and finally returning her gaze to the less intimidating prospect of Sharon’s face. “Share,” she whispered, and then dissolved into giggles.

“That’s right, we share.”

Brenda smothered a huge grin in her coffee cup, delighted to see that stone-cold bitch, Captain Raydor, in full-on mommy mode.

Clarissa was now fascinated by Sharon’s bandaged finger, staring at it with a sort of awe. She looked at Brenda, pointing at her grandmother’s hand. “It’s hurt,” she announced clearly, with a sort of conspiratorial solemnity.

Brenda responded with an exaggerated nod, thinking that maybe dealing with toddlers was sort of like acting everything out in pantomime. “That’s right, sweetie. So you and I are gonna help grandma out today, aren’t we?”

“I help.” With that same ponderous solemnity, the child carefully selected one of the remaining banana pieces in the bowl, grasped it between a chubby thumb and forefinger, and held it up toward Sharon’s mouth.

“Oh, thank you, Cee,” the brunette said with a wryness intended for Brenda’s ears, but she leaned forward and accepted the slightly mashed treat.

“I help,” Cee reiterated proudly, and grabbed another banana morsel. She lurched forward with this one, and Brenda realized it was intended for her.

“Honey, I’m not sure our friend Brenda likes --”

But Brenda was already gamely leaning forward to meet Clarissa halfway. When she had chewed and swallowed she said, “Helpin’ and sharin’ -- Sharon, you didn’t tell me your granddaughter was such a smart little girl.”

Clarissa beamed and let Brenda go to work with the washcloth, chirping, “Sticky sticky sticky!”

“Hey,” Brenda began suddenly, thinking of what Sharon had said earlier, “are there other sets of twins in your family?”

The older woman paused in the act of lifting her coffee cup to her mouth, looking at her friend with surprise. “I have a twin.”

Brenda’s jaw dropped. “Well, for heaven’s sake! You mean there are two of you roamin’ around on the loose?”

Brenda wondered exactly when she’d become so fond of the smirk that now quirked the other woman’s lips. “Not exactly,” Sharon chuckled. “We’re fraternal, not identical. And I look much better in a skirt.”

Before she could elaborate, the youngest member of their little trio let out a strident howl. “Out out out!” she cried, squirming wildly against the highchair’s restraints.

“I’ve got this,” Brenda declared with great confidence, only half of it feigned, and Sharon grinned. Her hands weren’t as quick with the buckles and snaps as Sharon’s would have been, but Brenda had the advantage of having the use of all ten fingers, and she managed. As soon as Clarissa’s bare feet hit the kitchen floor, she was off and running.

“She’s very energetic,” Brenda commented mildly, and Sharon snickered. “It’s such a nice day. You think maybe we should take her out to play, to the park or somewhere?”

The dark-haired woman drained the last of her coffee and smiled. “I think that is exactly what we should do, Brenda Leigh.”

**

The park wasn’t too busy, allowing them to select the much-coveted patch of grass beneath the shade of a large tree that was a reasonable distance from the playground. Brenda busied herself with laying out the blanket, pinning down the corners with the diaper bag and the picnic basket, occasionally stumbling when she realized Clarissa was close on her heels. Sharon looked on in amusement.

“I think she’s smitten,” the captain announced, sitting down on the wide plaid blanket.

“I doubt that,” Brenda replied, rounding the blanket to sit beside Sharon. Clarissa followed closely behind, depositing herself on the blanket so close to Brenda that she was nearly on her lap.

Sharon raised a knowing eyebrow.

“Is she usually this...friendly?” Brenda asked, peering down at the little girl with hesitant, curious eyes.

“Sometimes. She is selectively shy, but when she decides she likes you, she devotes herself completely.” Sharon leaned her right arm back against the stroller. “I’m surprised she’s as trusting as she is, actually, given her separation from her mother.”

Brenda looked at Sharon sympathetically, wondering if she should ask about the circumstances surrounding Clarissa’s parentage and upbringing. When Sharon didn’t volunteer any further information, she decided not to pry, choosing instead to observe as Clarissa crawled over to the edge of the blanket and ran her fingers through the grass. “What do you two usually do on your weekends together?”

“This, mostly. We color and watch movies and play...whatever happens to strike Cee’s fancy.” She looked at Brenda with a smile. “All very fascinating to you, I’m sure.”

“It is, actually. I like seein’ this side of you. You’re much more relaxed than I would’ve figured.”

“How so?”

“I dunno...I guess I imagined you as that stern type of grandmother who gets all miffed when you get grass stains on your bum and makes you eat your vegetables before you can leave the table.” Brenda laughed, slightly flustered. “Guess I pictured Grandma Raydor, not Grandma Sharon.”

“I’m certainly more relaxed with Clarissa than I was with the twins.”

“Have you gotten wise in your old age?”

Sharon rolled her eyes. “You could say that. It was a different time. Circumstances are different now.”

Brenda studied the woman’s face, wondering if Sharon was leaving open a door for Brenda to inquire about said circumstances. Before she could pursue it, Clarissa turned back to them, holding out her little fist to Brenda. “For me?” she asked.

Clarissa nodded and stared at her expectantly.

“Hold out your hand, Brenda Leigh,” Sharon prompted teasingly.

When Brenda did as Sharon said, Clarissa dumped a fistful of grass onto Brenda’s palm. To her credit, Brenda gave the impression of being thrilled. “Look at all this! What should we do with it?” She shared a conspiratorial grin with the toddler and then, before she gave herself time to reconsider, she sprinkled the grass over Sharon’s head.

Predictably, that was a big hit with Cee, and Cee’s grandmother smiled good-naturedly but pointed out, “You know you’re going to be the one picking every single blade out, right?”

“Right,” Brenda agreed, and to her credit, she laughed heartily when she felt a like shower of grass raining down on her on curls.

“Why don’t you take her over to the playground before she kills all the grass?” Sharon suggested.

Wide brown eyes blinked back at her. “Me?”

“I can come too.”

“No no no.” Brenda pushed firmly against Sharon’s shoulder as the older woman shifted to hoist herself to her feet. “You relax. I am excellent on the playground.”

Sharon’s low voice drifted after her on the spring breeze: “Oh, I just bet you are.”

Brenda Leigh felt that warm green gaze on her as she pushed Clarissa in one of the toddler swings, the little girl’s gleeful shrieks piercing the air as she urged on her new friend Brenda. The blonde was still adjusting to the concept that someone she considered both a good friend and, basically, a contemporary could be anybody’s grandmother. It sounded so old -- and, jokes about medieval scourges and Civil War battles aside, no one would dare call Sharon Raydor old. She was vital and vibrant, with her nimble mind, homecoming queen hair, and -- well, and those acres of long, toned legs Brenda had seen up-close and personally last night. Brenda tried to think back to her earliest memories of her own maternal grandmother, and conjured up twinkling blue eyes and a halo of silver-white hair, much like Willie Rae looked now. And yet when Brenda was Clarissa’s age, her Meemaw would’ve been -- what, 55? Just a few months older than Sharon, in fact.

Brenda looked back to where her friend sprawled on the blanket, the breeze ruffling her long honey-brown layers, those long legs pulled up to her chest so she could rest her right arm atop her knees, and felt herself grin. Times had certainly changed if Sharon personified what it meant these days to be grandmotherly. But then, Brenda Leigh was quite sure that Sharon, like herself, had spent a lifetime defying conventions and expectations.

She found herself musing on what Sharon had been like as a child--if she was always this logical and serious or if she ever made mud pies and jumped in puddles. Was Sharon a tomboy, like she herself had been? She couldn’t picture that; in Brenda’s mind, Sharon Raydor was probably prom queen--and perhaps also in the honor band or on the debate team. What had she been like as a teenager? Was she dark and broody or rebellious? When had Sharon lost her virginity? What had she wanted to be when she grew up?

Other curiosities mingled amongst these, leaving Brenda to create a timeline’s worth of possibilities that ranged from what Sharon was like in college and when she had met her ex husband to what she had been like as an expectant mother. Standing here behind the newest generation of the Raydor clan made Brenda hunger for more knowledge about her but, more importantly, made her feel like she somehow had earned the right to know these things. She had, after all, been invited into their lives and had, against all reason, become Sharon’s emergency contact. It didn’t get better than that. Well--aside from sex and dating, but as far as friendships went, they were practically best friends. She laughed, imagining miniature versions of themselves sitting together in a sandbox, drinking apple juice boxes and exchanging friendship bracelets.

Brenda looked over at Sharon, cool and calm and radiant, and beamed. She stopped the swing and pointed to her. “Lookie, Clarissa -- wave hello to grandma!” And they did, flapping their arms as if Sharon would only notice if they dislocated their shoulders in the process. Brenda and Clarissa shared a private smile when Sharon waved back.

“Swide!” the child announced and, after translating baby-speak, Brenda realized that she meant ‘slide.’

She helped the little girl out of the swing, hoping that Sharon had looked away when she caught the toddler’s shoe in the swing’s foot hole. They ambled together toward the slide and, after an older boy took his turn, Brenda sat Clarissa on the slide and guided her down the slope. They clapped and cheered and for the first time since Charlie had gone home, Brenda felt like maybe she wasn’t so bad with kids after all.

They played for a short while, bouncing between various playground apparatuses as they suited the young girl’s fleeting attention span. When her back began to make its disapproval known after helping Clarissa down the slide for the eighth time, Brenda suggested they return to the Keeper of Juice and Gummy Snacks.

On their way back, Clarissa stopped several times to pluck long blades of grass from various bushes and, to Brenda’s horror, uprooted a daisy from the decorative garden at the playground’s edge. Clarissa looked so pleased with herself, her eyes so full of pride and excitement, that Brenda immediately forgave her.

“What’s this?” Sharon asked with just the right amount of awe when Clarissa presented the flower. “Is this for me?”

Cee nodded, her mop of curls flopping everywhere.

Sharon sniffed the flower and bopped Clarissa on the nose with it. “It’s very pretty,” she announced, giving her granddaughter a kiss on the forehead.

Brenda knelt down beside them. Would it be inappropriate to ask for a kiss of such approval since she had, after all, been Clarissa’s accomplice?

“Tell me, Brenda,” Sharon began, picking off the flower’s long stem so she could tuck the flower behind Brenda’s ear. “What does the daisy symbolize?”

“It means innocence,” Brenda replied, her cheeks blooming with color, “and loyal love.”

“Well then,” Sharon murmured looking from her friend to her granddaughter and back, “it couldn’t be more appropriate, could it?” She smiled her Gioconda smile, her eyes far away, and Brenda dimpled with shy pleasure as she readjusted the flower. In that moment she felt that she was very much part of the club, the inner circle.

“And Clarissa decided to pick the flower herself.” The captain laughed. “Vivien would be so pleased.”

Brenda pondered as she accepted the slightly warm gummy snack the toddler held out to her, a bit more enthusiastic about sharing this treat than she had been about the mashed banana. She chewed slowly, rummaging around until she encountered a fragment of memory from a college English class. “You mean like Clarissa Dalloway, in the book?” Her eyes fell upon the squirming child. “Is that why --?”

Sharon nodded. “It was Vivien’s favorite.”

Brenda smiled -- naming her child after a literary character seemed like something Sharon Raydor’s daughter would do -- and then her smile froze as she registered something else. She let her eyes fall to the blanket, hoping Sharon was too distracted by Cee’s efforts to shove an entire handful of gummy fruits into her little mouth to have noticed.

It was Vivien’s favorite, Sharon had said. Was, speaking of her daughter in the past tense.

Brenda Leigh felt a chill seep into her bones and focused on the vibrant child happily drinking apple juice, now, and the specter of death again receded to a manageable distance.

“Nap time,” Sharon announced suddenly. “This will be a lot easier if we get her back to the car before she’s dead weight.”

“Nap time?” Brenda looked dubiously at the bouncing ball of energy. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yeah.” One-handed, Sharon began to gather their trash. “Trust grandma.”

Unsurprisingly, Sharon’s prediction came true, and Clarissa was sound asleep before Brenda had finished buckling her into her car seat, as if a switch had been flipped. The blonde shook her head as she moved around to the driver’s side of her friend’s car, which Sharon had suggested they take rather than having to move the car seat. “Boy, I wish I could fall asleep like that.”

“Tell me about it,” Sharon muttered, awkwardly fastening her seatbelt. Brenda wondered if Sharon had trouble falling asleep, if she was haunted by thoughts of Vivien. She wondered what Sharon dreamed when she did sleep. She envisioned Sharon alone in the dark in her quiet house.

Well, she reminded herself, Sharon wasn’t alone now. And neither was Brenda.

Following Sharon’s instructions, Brenda carried Clarissa down the hall past the kitchen to a room that was a picture-perfect child’s nursery, and deposited her sleeping bundle in the waiting crib. As she stood up, arching her aching back, she took in her surroundings. Near the ceiling, bright hand-painted flowers ran around the room, turning the space into an exotic garden; and soft, puffy clouds danced overhead against a blue background like something out of a Renaissance painting. “Wow,” Brenda breathed simply. “Who did that?”

“Oh, I did,” Sharon replied as if it were nothing. “She’ll sleep for an hour or so. Come on; we can have some grown-up time.”

**

The afternoon brought coloring (loosely defined, since Clarissa was nowhere near mastering such concepts as staying inside the lines), multiple dramatic readings of The Three Little Kittens, a game of hide and seek that chiefly entailed Clarissa sitting on the floor of Sharon’s closet amid her rows of shoes and giggling incessantly, Sesame Street, and another nap.

Brenda was feeding Clarissa her dinner of grilled chicken cubes, baby tomatoes, and cucumber slices when the doorbell chimed and Sharon excused herself. A moment later two sets of footsteps headed back toward the kitchen.

“Here they are,” Sharon declared brightly. “Look, Clarissa, Uncle Daniel came to see you.”

The child let out a crow of unrestrained delight, and Sharon met Brenda’s dark eyes with a smirk. “I knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

Brenda’s heart pounded thunderously in her chest. She had successfully allayed her earlier anxiety about winning over one Raydor and now it returned full-force as she smiled politely at Sharon’s son. The young man was clearly much more reserved than the toddler and observed her with a cautious, clinical eye.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Brenda said cheerfully, hoping her Southern charm would win him over.

“Likewise,” he replied, turning his attention back to his mother. “What sort of son would I be if I didn’t stop by to check on the invalid? Besides...I just had to see this for myself.”

“As you can see, we’re all in one piece.” Sharon patted his shoulder. “I thought you had lab today.”

“Finished early,” Daniel replied, sniffing around the hot dishes on the stovetop. “Do you mind if I...?” He pointed at the chicken, baring white teeth in a hungry smile.

“Please join us,” Brenda invited brightly, hoping it wasn’t too presumptuous to invite him to partake in a meal she hadn’t cooked in a house that didn’t belong to her. To her relief, Sharon was already pulling down an extra plate. Brenda focused on Clarissa, snorting when she squeezed out the middle of a baby tomato.

“How’s my best girl?” Daniel asked, setting down his dinner beside the highchair. He ruffled her curly hair and kissed the top of her head. Clarissa smiled, her mouth full of food, and turned back to Brenda, holding out a piece of cucumber to share. “She must really like you,” Daniel observed, watching the child and blonde interact.

“I sure hope so,” Brenda said, accepting the cucumber and popping it into her mouth.

“She does,” Sharon added, taking up her place at the table. “Cee adores Daniel; she typically forgets that other people exist when he’s around.”

“My place has been usurped,” Daniel flatly conceded, though his face bore no jealousy or ill-will.

“I think she likes me ‘cause I’ve got the food.” Brenda nudged a chicken cube at the little girl, who promptly ate it.

There was a moment of silence before Sharon tactfully steered the conversation to her son’s school work, giving Brenda a moment to collect herself. Her stomach tightened awkwardly as she considered whether or not to apologize for what had happened on his birthday. Though Sharon had assured her that she’d smoothed things over, Brenda couldn’t help but feel like she’d spoiled his day. Tact and subtlety were not traits that the deputy chief excelled at, but she decided to leave the topic alone, not wanting to conjure up unpleasantness during dinner.

“So you’re the close friend my mother raves about,” Daniel finally said, turning his sharp Raydor eyes on her.

“Really, Shar?” Brenda batted her eyelashes at the captain. “You rave about me?”

“I wouldn’t necessarily call it ‘raving’,” Sharon replied coolly.

Daniel grinned and exchanged a glance with his mother that was laden with meaning. “I would.”

“You always have had a flair for the dramatic,” his mother shot back, sipping her seltzer. “Leave some chicken for Brenda, Daniel; she hasn’t eaten yet.”

“I’m not a scavenger,” he replied airily. “So, Chief Johnson --”

“Brenda,” she interrupted hastily. “Please, call me Brenda.”

“Brenda. My mother says you don’t have much experience with children.”

“Only when I was one,” the blonde replied, perhaps a little too cheerfully. “But Clarissa’s teachin’ me, aren’t you, sweetie pie?”

Brenda stroked the child’s dark curls and Cee grinned. She then grabbed her child-sized dinner plate, whisked it into the air, and turned it upside down. “Finish!” she announced. The chief stared in consternation at the bits of chicken on the highchair tray and the single cherry tomato bouncing across the kitchen floor, and half expected her friend to scold her, but the older woman turned her displeasure on her granddaughter (in a manner that made her look like Mary Sunshine compared to how Brenda had heard her rip into perps and bumbling officers at work). Clarissa promptly began to cry, complete with wailing and giant crocodile tears streaming down her perfect round cheeks.

“Bath time?” Danny asked. He looked to Brenda and explained, “Not only does she love bath time, but once it’s finished she usually conks out.”

“Yeah, somebody’s had a big day and is tired and cranky.” Sharon nodded toward her right hand. “I’m not supposed to get this wet, so --”

“I’ll do it.” The young man obligingly got to his feet and immediately began to work the buckles on the toddler’s chair, his hands much surer and more deft than Brenda’s had been earlier. He scooped his niece into his arms and looked startled when she began to struggle, kicking out with her bare feet. “Ben-nah!” she fussed. “Ben-nah, Ben-nah!”

Daniel turned wide, wary green eyes on Sharon. “You want Brenda to give you your bath tonight?” he asked the wiggling child.

“You don’t have --” began the captain.

“No, no.” Brenda waved her friend’s protestations off with a bright smile as she slid to her feet. “I’m happy to do it. You and Daniel can just visit.” And he can’t ask me twenty questions, she added mentally, hoping her relief wasn’t glaringly overt.

“I’ll come get you started,” Sharon insisted, leading the way to the bathroom. She showed Brenda the small chest in the closet containing Clarissa’s bath toys and baby shampoo, and then tested the temperature of the bath water filling the tub. Clarissa was already squirming in Brenda’s arms, eager to get in and splash.

Brenda bit her lip, looking a little anxiously at the other woman, ridiculously afraid that she might somehow break the child. “So do I just plop her in there and let her have at it?”

Sharon chuckled, the skin at the corners of her eyes crinkling appealingly with her mirth. “I’d advise you to undress her first, and at some point soap should be involved, but otherwise yes. Have at it. She’ll stay in until she turns into a little prune if you let her.” Sharon ducked, kissing Clarissa’s palm and then each finger in turn until the girl giggled. “Won’t you, Miss Priss? -- Call if you need help.”

“I won’t,” Brenda declared confidently, balancing Cee on the sink as she worked one chubby arm out of the toddler’s yellow and orange striped turtleneck. “You go talk to Daniel.” And keep him out of here, she thought. The last thing she needed was to have beloved Uncle Daniel scrutinizing her novice bath-giving technique.

Sharon was still smiling when she found Daniel in the living room, where he’d retired after wolfing down his chicken and salad.

“So,” he began affably, sipping from another can of seltzer.

Sharon’s eyebrows arched. “So,” she echoed, flopping down beside him on the sofa and patting his knee with her uninjured hand.

He smirked, and Sharon was reminded why most people found the same expression so maddening on her own face. “So that’s Brenda.”

“Indeed. That is Brenda.” Sharon rested her elbow on the back of the sofa, glad to relieve the strain on her screaming biceps.

“She’s much more attractive when she’s not throwing a tantrum.”

“So is Clarissa,” his mother responded equably. “So are you. You think your precious little niece’s fits are bad? You weren’t an unmitigated delight yourself.”

“I wasn’t sure she’d show.”

“Yes, Daniel, I am aware of that.” Sharon swiped her son’s seltzer and took a long drink. “But I was. And who, as usual, was right?”

“Mmm...and don’t you just love to remind me,” he pointed out. “I have to give her credit though, I suppose, for coming through for you. After her bitch fit on our birthday, I wasn’t so sure.”

“I told you, Danny,” she said, lowering her voice as though Brenda might hear them over the sound of the splashing bathwater, “she didn’t know.”

“That’s no excuse for being a--”

She gave him the look and he immediately halted his words, knowing better than to overstep his bounds by dissing her only friend. “At least you have someone. She’s better than that other woman you used to hang around with. What was her name again? Darla?”

Sharon snorted and rolled her eyes heavenward, recalling the orange-haired wife of Paul’s business partner. “”Darlene. Oh Lord, I remember her. I was so thankful when your father and I split up and I no longer had to feign interest in her friendship.”

“So were we,” Daniel mused, sinking back a little into the couch. “Remember those awful oatmeal cookies she’d bring over for us?”

“How could I forget? You and your sister used to hide them between the sofa cushions.” Sharon recalled many an evening where she’d pull out handfuls of cookie instead of the missing remote control. She had never been able to scold her children with a straight face, having been forced to eat the cardboard confection while Darlene watched and chattered on about garden beds and fertilizer. The memory conjured up the faintest hint of grainy cardboard on her tongue. She shuddered.

“I miss her,” Danny said quietly, staring down at the floor.

Sharon knew that they were no longer talking about Darlene. She ruffled his hair, the stiff crinkle of gel scratching her palm, and sighed. “I know. So do I.”

“Do you think--”

It was with great relief that Sharon heard the loud yelp coming from the bathroom. She’d heard all of his questions before, all requests to hear her voice the various possibilities surrounding Vivien’s disappearance. Most nights she was willing to indulge him, but tonight she was exhausted and her hand was beginning to throb and she simply didn’t have the heart to fortify him with false hypotheses. She feigned an exasperated sigh and heaved herself to her feet.

“Are you sure she knows what she’s doing?” Daniel asked, setting down his seltzer and standing.

“She’s resourceful.” Sharon frowned, heading for the bathroom.

When the door glided open, the captain found herself unable to stifle a laugh. She’d been expecting Clarissa in tears, perhaps due to soap in her eyes or the unpleasant rub of the washcloth on her back, but not the delighted giggles coming from the tub. Beside her, on the sodden bath mat, knelt an equally sodden Brenda.

“You’re supposed to be bathing her,” Sharon pointed out with a laugh.

Chocolate eyes narrowed into a glare. “I know.”

“I would’ve even let you take a shower. All you had to do was ask.”

Under the pointed gaze Sharon dragged over her, Brenda’s consternation had turned to embarrassment, and now to amusement. “I was conserving water,” she replied primly, but was unable to smother her grin as she leaned over to drain the water out of the tub.

“Oh yes, that is usually why people bathe together,” the captain bantered back, and suddenly Brenda was assaulted by an image of herself and her friend in the shower, this shower, together. Vividly she saw steam rising and a dark curl plastered to the elegant curve of an ivory neck, and before her mind’s eye could sweep any lower, she shook herself and grabbed the ultra-soft towel that awaited Clarissa.

“Come on, Esther Williams,” she teased, and although the toddler obviously didn’t get the joke, she laughed at the sounds Brenda made as she gently, briskly rubbed her dry. Well, Brenda Leigh reasoned, recovering her equanimity, she’d seen Sharon half-naked yesterday, so it was only fair that Sharon should see her tonight looking like an escapee from a wet T-shirt contest.

Dry now, Clarissa stretched her entire body toward Sharon and demanded, “Mamamamama!”

For a second Brenda’s heart stopped and she couldn’t bring herself to meet Sharon’s eyes. She thought of the photographs she’d seen of Vivien; she had her mother’s long, dark hair and intelligent green eyes. It was only natural that Cee’s ideas of the two women would have merged, but Brenda still avoided her friend’s gaze.

Then she realized Sharon was calmly picking up Clarissa’s onesie pajamas, which were cheerfully if strangely decorated with brightly colored flying saucers and purple aliens. “Ma ma ma shrrr,” Clarissa repeated impatiently, and Sharon smiled at her. “Here I am,” the dark-haired captain sing-songed, extending the new outfit to Brenda. “Brenda, if you can just get her dressed, you’re off duty. I’ll put her down.”

“Sure thing.” Brenda readjusted Cee on the edge of the counter and gamely grabbed one flailing leg. “Peachy keen, jellybean,” she sang to the toddler in imitation of the way Sharon had spoken, and then glanced up at the other woman. “What’s she callin’ you, Sharon?”

Sharon chuckled and rolled her eyes as she leaned in the doorway. “That would be something resembling ‘Mama Sharon.’”

Brenda Leigh’s face lit up. “Aww, that’s adorable!” she proclaimed. “I just couldn’t see you as Grandma or Nana or Granny --”

Her friend interrupted with a disgusted “Ugh!” and an exaggerated shudder. “You don’t think it’s too cutesy? She didn’t give me a choice, this one. Daniel calls me mom, so she picked up on that right away, and --” She shrugged. “Of course, it sounds like ‘Masher.’”

Brenda snorted out a laugh. “Appropriate.”

In response Sharon scrunched her nose and turned her attention to her granddaughter. “You ready for Goodnight Moon, baby? Let’s go.”

The younger woman was unabashedly curious about the bedtime ritual, but she was also shivering, her nipples jutting prominently and uncomfortably against the soaked fabric of her bra. A change of clothes was required, stat. With Clarissa’s towel still draped around her shoulders, she darted out to the car to retrieve her overnight bag, and then ducked into Sharon’s bedroom to change into the yoga pants, tank top, and hoodie she’d brought to sleep in. She promptly crashed into Daniel when she stepped out into the hallway.

“Whoa there.” His light touch on her elbows steadied her, and then he stepped back politely. Brenda realized he was looking over her shoulder, and turned to see her bright orange duffel sitting on the foot of Sharon’s bed. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were spending the night.”

Brenda smiled self-consciously, although she had no idea why. “Well, sure. If Clarissa needs something during the night, we can’t have Sharon left in the lurch, can we?” From down the hall the low, soothing murmur of the older woman’s voice reached Brenda’s ears. “Is your mama still readin’ to Clarissa?”

Daniel’s lips quirked in a half-smile. “Yeah. If you go on, I’m sure you can make it for the third time through.”

Brenda immediately set off down the hall, aware that Daniel was following. The blonde paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Sharon sitting in the rocking chair with her granddaughter settled on her lap, and hesitated, uncharacteristically shy. Sharon looked up and smiled very softly in welcome. “Come in,” she said, not altering the even pitch of her voice. “We don’t mind an audience.”

Behind Brenda, Daniel spoke equally quietly. “Mom, Brenda doesn’t have to spend the night. I can.”

Sharon’s surprised gaze flickered toward her son before settling on Brenda’s face. Whatever she saw there made her smile slightly. “No, sweetie,” she said. “We’re having a slumber party. It’s girls’ night.”

Brenda dimpled happily and sank into the pale green armchair near the door. She smiled up at Daniel, who had leaned his body against the door frame. “I don’t mind stayin’. Your girls will be in good hands,” Brenda promised, returning her gaze to Sharon when she had flipped back to the beginning of the book.

Sharon began the story again, her low, melodious voice making even Brenda feel suddenly relaxed. She drew her legs onto the chair and hugged them to her chest, tipping her head to rest on her knee. She watched, awestruck, as Sharon cradled the child with her injured arm, propping open the book and flipping its pages with her free hand. Somehow, while her voice clearly and slowly enunciated the words, she managed to rock them gently.

Heavy-lidded eyelids drooped and Brenda bit her lip as she watched the child struggle with remaining awake before finally tipping her head against her grandmother’s shoulder. Sharon finished out the story and, once she had closed the book, gracefully rose to her feet to settle Clarissa into her crib.

When Daniel moved into the nursery, standing alongside his mother, Brenda quietly unfolded herself from the chair and snuck out of the room, giving the family their moment alone. She wondered briefly about what her life might have been like if she had given in to Fritz’s pressures to have a baby. How much of herself would she have given up to raise a child? Would a baby have saved their marriage? In Brenda’s experience, that sort of arrangement only delayed the inevitable, and she felt a burst of relief that she had remained firm about what she wanted, thankful that there had not been a third party subjected to their separation.

No, Brenda decided, taking up residence on the end of the sofa. She had done the right thing--she hadn’t been ready and certainly hadn’t been willing to start a family with Fritz.

Still, there was something comforting and natural about being welcomed into the sanctuary of Sharon’s home and her life and her family. Perhaps she had missed out on the road not taken with Fritz, but Brenda was certain that this was the particular path that she was meant to be on.

Daniel and Sharon emerged from the nursery, drawing the door closed behind them. They were speaking in hushed tones as they came into the living room.

“You didn’t have to leave,” Daniel said, dropping onto the matching armchair. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, which Sharon promptly swatted down.

“I didn’t want to intrude on your family time,” Brenda remarked shyly.

“If Clarissa has anything to say about it, you most certainly are family now,” Sharon replied casually, raising her arms above her head. She stretched her body, standing on the tips of her toes and tipping her head back before finally releasing the pose with a groan. “My body’s going to hate me for giving up on yoga until this thing is healed,” she said, gesturing to her right hand. She sat down beside Brenda and dutifully elevated her arm.

“Is there any way I can help?” Brenda asked, trying not to imagine her body tangled with Sharon’s in some impossible pretzel shape.

“I wish.” She sighed.

“I’d keep an eye on her if I were you,” Danny warned. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you wake up tomorrow and find her in downward dog.”

Brenda had no idea what that meant, but she deduced that whatever it was, it wouldn’t be good on her hand.

Sharon scoffed. “I’m not that bad.”

The young man arched an eyebrow. “Yes, you are.”

Brenda snorted. “Don’t you go gettin’ any ideas,” she teased, nudging Sharon’s hip with her foot. “I’ll handcuff you to the bed if I need to.”

Sharon’s face colored faintly and Daniel whooped out a quiet laugh. “Ah, so it’s that kind of slumber party, is it?”

“Of course not!” Sharon exclaimed, her eyes wide and her color mounting. “Daniel!”

Brenda was mildly embarrassed too, as soon as she realized what she’d said, but found Sharon’s embarrassment utterly disarming. It helped her forget her own and she grinned slyly. “That’s right, Daniel, not with your mama’s hand hurt like that,” she drawled.

“You probably are too lazy to do all the work,” Sharon muttered, shooting Brenda a dark glare.

Had Sharon’s son not been present, Brenda Leigh likely would have made a comment about Sharon’s tongue still being in working order, but even she had limits. Her sly grin transformed itself into a beatific smile.

“Obviously you two need some time alone.” Daniel smirked, his eyes dancing with mirth, as he stood and leaned over to buss his mother’s cheek. “Far be it from me to interfere in a lovers’ spat. Good night, ladies. Mom, call if you need anything.”

Sharon scowled the entire time she told her son she loved him and to drive carefully, and Brenda tried her best not to giggle like a schoolgirl. Once Daniel was gone she sat up straighter and asked, “Where am I sleepin’? I left my bag in your room.”

“With me, obviously. After you’ve handcuffed me to the bed and imprisoned me.”

“Why, Shar, are you implyin’ that’s the only way I could get you into bed? I’m wounded.”

“Call me ‘Shar’ again and I will wound you,” the dark-haired woman retorted. “The guest room is down the hall. I know you’re bad with directions, but you can’t possibly miss it: it’s the one that doesn’t have a crib.”

Brenda settled back on the sofa and crossed her bare feet on the coffee table, just as Daniel had done. Sharon stared at them for several seconds, but made no move to swat them away, instead settling into the cushions at her end and giving Brenda a long look. “You’re looking very pleased with yourself, deputy chief,” she couldn’t help commenting.

Brenda grinned as she tipped her head back, realizing just how tired her body was. Taking care of a toddler was serious business. “That’s ‘cause I managed to win over two members of the Raydor clan today for the price of one.”

“Oh, you’re that sure of Daniel, are you?”

In response Brenda smirked a smirk that was worthy of her companion. “I sure am,” she declared brightly. “He’s not upset with me any more at all, Sharon. Didn’t you hear what he said before he left? Not only does he want you to date me, but he’s gonna let me handcuff you to the bed!”

Sharon stared back, dismayed. After maybe ten seconds it occurred to her that, confronted by Brenda’s sparkling eyes and triumphant smile, there was really only one way to proceed.

She laughed heartily.

And then she stood and cast the blonde the most seductive, come-hither look she could manage given that she still had to keep her right hand elevated, and crooked her left index finger in the other woman’s direction. “Well then, come on, baby,” she crooned, adding a little extra sashay to her step, which, to be fair, was never entirely free of sashay anyway. “I always keep a spare set of cuffs in my nightstand. Just get the chocolate syrup out of the refrigerator door, would you?”

For a few seconds Brenda looked every bit as dismayed, if not more, than her friend had a moment earlier. And then she took in Sharon’s saucy little pose, the twinkle in her eyes -- everything, right up to the half-cocked injured hand -- and shook her head in wary admiration. “Captain Raydor,” she drawled, drawing the syllables out to an ungodly length, “you play dirty. I am impressed.”

The older woman chuckled as she dropped her pose and flopped down on the sofa beside Brenda, causing both of them to bounce. “Oh, you have no idea. Are you impressed enough to make me a cup of tea? Rachel comes on in three minutes. Hurry up; I don’t want to miss any.”

Brenda was still smiling to herself as she made her way into the kitchen and filled the electric kettle. She took down two mugs from the cabinet and two bags of the green jasmine tea Sharon preferred, and then hunted through the refrigerator until she found, as the captain had promised, half a bottle of Ghirardelli chocolate syrup. She placed all the items on a tray she found stored with the cookie sheets, and then stood back to survey her handiwork with a big, satisfied grin. No doubt Sharon knew how to play dirty. But so did Brenda Leigh.

---