At Home with the Goren’s - After Major Case – Part II

Surprisingly Bobby had weathered his earlier losses with more ease than this one. For sure he missed his mother, she had been a major part of his life but she was so very sick and it was the natural order. Then, as much as it hurt to admit, his brother had lived with a death wish. Who would have ever guessed Bobby’s nemesis would have granted it; that beautiful and brilliant but profoundly disturbed woman who had kept the Detective on his toes and his wife looking over her shoulder. Her interference in their life had become burdensome and dangerous and his old demented mentor had taken care of her. Now he was meant to be free. He was; free and untethered - drifting aimlessly.

Time was a healer – and reflection and introspection - and the Detective began to accept that some things were bigger than him and beyond his control. This latest upset though had turned out to be the biggest bereavement of them all. It had hit him hard.

From the outset he had insisted he handle it his way and she respected that; he was a grown man with a mind of his own. It only started with gentle suggestions; she had contacts, she could open doors for him and sometimes it is a case of who you know. He sweetly ignored her until one day, reading about a convoluted trial in the newspaper, she casually commented, “You know, Carver was right, you’d make an exceptional lawyer.”

From nowhere he turned on her, angrily saying, “Butt out of my business!” She had clearly pushed a button. His face contorted and his jabbing finger backed her into a corner. When he saw her hands raised to protect herself, he crumbled in pieces to the floor.

“I, I, I would never, never hurt you,” he cried.

“I know you wouldn’t.” She slid to the floor beside him and rocked him in her arms. “It was only a passing remark – conversation, you know. I’m sorry.”

“I, I do have some ideas, nothing concrete, not yet.”

“What are they?”

She felt the vibration of his cell. He grabbed it and broke away from her.

“Who is it?” she asked.

He didn’t answer her; he answered the phone and retreated to his cave. It wasn’t long before Eames showed up and wordlessly joined him, firmly shutting the door behind her - and shutting his wife out.

Honey stood there. Her bewildered thoughts were interrupted by the sweet sound of ‘dadadada’ coming from the nursery. She gathered up her little bundle and whispered in his soft warm ear, “At least I know you love me! Let’s go to the park and leave them to it.”

Now that spare time had been forced upon him, Bobby often joined them on their morning stroll. He was a real hands-on daddy; it warmed his wife’s heart and soul to see father and son together. The baby was the only one who truly lifted Bobby’s broken spirit.

They were gone about an hour when little Robert demanded food. He could be inconsolable and grumpy until the first spoon of something pureed hit his tongue – like father, like son. She dashed back to the apartment and ran into the study knowing Bobby would more than willingly entertain him whilst she warmed up the baby’s lunch. What she didn’t expect to find was her husband and his ex-partner in a clinch.

She was momentarily frozen; they didn’t even notice her.
Back in the kitchen the baby was bawling and her own tears were slowly sliding down her nose unchecked. By the time Bobby emerged to see what the commotion was about his son was happily filling his mouth and hands and hair and the highchair and the floor. Honey kept her head down. She was obviously not the object of his concern.

She heard Alex’s parting words, “… see ya soon” and the sound of the front door closing behind her. She didn’t know what to do; whether to confront him or let it go. Her immediate dilemma was solved when he promptly popped his head round the kitchen door and abruptly announced he was going out.

After the baby settled down for his afternoon nap, she entered the one part of their home that was hallowed ground – his male domain – his sanctuary - his study. It was kept in meticulous order, unlike their bedroom and bathroom where he just dropped everything, safe in the knowledge she would pick up in his wake.
Bobby Goren was thorough, but maybe, just maybe, for once he may have overlooked something. She logged on to his email – did he know she knew his password? Nothing looked untoward although she didn’t really know what she was looking for; just assumed something would jump out at her and say, “Hey this is what you want to know!”

She riffled through his drawers; mostly unfiled bills and statements, cuttings, instruction manuals and lots of baby pics. His beloved and battered binder gave up nothing either. She was about to give up herself when on an impulse she looked at the notepad next to the telephone. The top sheet was blank but heavily scored. She took a soft pencil and delicately traced the lines. John Smith - a euphemism surely - and a phone number - some more numbers - an address uptown - a time and date - tonight 9.00 p.m. She placed the scrap of paper in the pocket of her jeans.
The Detective’s wife (could he still be called Detective – old habits die hard) was enterprising and intrepid and not one to shrink from responsibility or intrigue, at least not in business. Her sticking point could be her husband. She did love him. She did trust him. But she was never sure, even now, of his feelings. Was it love or lust? She’d been there before; sex was fine and frequent, but she felt that was all she was good for; he didn’t seem to be sharing much else with her these days.

Oh how everyone thought her the lucky one, nabbing Detective Bobby Goren for herself – but life with him wasn’t that easy. She knew she was flawed, but he was also far from perfect.

The Detective (yes - he will always be that) jumped into the waiting car at the corner and together they drove off. She had always liked to be in the driver’s seat. Maybe her way of being in control in that particular partnership, but surely it was different now they had both left Major Case; one pushed the other having jumped.

“Eames, I’m not comfortable with this!”

She shot him a glance, her narrow lips soberly turned down, no trace of a smile or acknowledgement of his misgivings.

They drove some way and he repeated himself; the car screeched to a halt.
“Get out if you want Goren; I’ll go without you.” At that moment Eames’ phone shrilled. She didn’t bother to check caller ID; it was not the call she was expecting.

“Alex?” a sweet voice asked. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you earlier. How are you?” She covered the mouthpiece and whispered to him, “It’s your wife!” He frowned. She set the phone to loudspeaker.

“I’m fine. What’s up?”

“Would you do me a big favour? I know you’ve offered before. I want to take Bobby out – just the two of us – just for an hour or so - and wondered if you could babysit, say around 9.00 tonight.”

“Hold on a sec, I’m driving.” She turned to Bobby; her lips pursed; she sat there shaking her head.

He dragged his fingers through his greying curls, clenching his knuckles behind his head and stared out the window, a hidden smile slowly creeping over his face.

By Ann.