Previously...
- Following an afternoon tryst with Jason, Natalie became suddenly ill and threw up. 
- Travis and his biological mother, Kathleen Bundy, started to work on building a relationship. 
- Brent and Sarah confirmed that Sabrina Gage really is the once-comatose woman whose identity Shannon stole. 

The apartment feels deathly quiet to Natalie Bishop once she locks the door behind herself. Not that it shouldn't -- this was the point. Bree is still at school, and she needs total privacy to do this. 

She feels like a criminal, up to something nefarious. She felt that way at the store, too, lurking in the aisles as though someone might be watching her. But she isn't doing anything wrong. 

She did something wrong, but no one has to know about that. Especially not if the answer she receives today is the right one. 

After stripping off her blue leather jacket, she pulls the pregnancy test from the paper drugstore bag, takes a deep breath, and heads into the bathroom. 

"Beers at lunchtime?" Bill Fisher asks as he arrives tableside, a pair of frosty pint glasses in his hands and a warm grin spread over his face. 

"Grandpa. Hey," Travis Fisher says as Bill sets the beers down before Travis and his lunch companion. "This is my, uh, this is Kathleen—"

“It’s nice to meet you,” Bill says knowingly.

Kathleen Bundy shakes his hand. "It's a real pleasure. Travis was telling me all about this place. Can't wait to try the food."

“Did Travis tell you that he actually helped me out in the kitchen a few months ago?”

Kathleen turns to her biological son with surprise. “You didn’t say a word about that!"

Travis’s cheeks flush with pink. “It wasn’t a big thing." “Travis came to my rescue,” Bill says. “I was down a man in the kitchen and was catering my daughter’s wedding. Travis jumped in to help and took to the kitchen like an old pro." Kathleen winks. “Guess he gets it from somewhere." Realization dawns on Bill. “You’re a cook, too, aren’t you?"

“Hardly. I work in a school cafeteria. Mostly a game of trying to stick to the budget these days. That’s why I have today off — they make us rotate days now."

“I’m sure Travis appreciates you coming to see him,” Bill says. “If you’re free tonight, you’re welcome to join us for dinner. I’m sure my wife would love to meet you.” 

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna impose."

“It wouldn’t be imposing at all! The more, the merrier."

“Maybe she has things to do besides eat with us, Grandpa,” Travis says.

“Yeah,” Kathleen says, suddenly seeming a little frenzied. “I have something I have to take care of tonight. Gotta get back to Tacoma. But thanks for the invitation. That’s really nice of you."

“You’re welcome any time, then,” he says. “I’ll let you enjoy your lunch."

Bill hurries back to the kitchen, and Travis reaches for his beer.

“Cheers,” Kathleen says as she picks up her own. They touch glasses and sip the frothy beers.

“Seems like you’ve got a real nice family here,” she says. “Makes me feel a little better about what I did."

“You explained all that,” Travis says. “I get it now."

Kathleen nods along. “Good. But sometimes I think, if I’d’ve known what that guy was really gonna do with my baby — that he was gonna swap you out with some other kid—“ She shakes her head, troubled by the thought. 

He rests his elbows on the table and leans forward. “I guess it all worked out. I’m finally starting to see it that way."

“Good. The Fishers are good people, aren’t they?"

“They are,” he says, and for the first time in a long while, he finds himself believing that everything truly might work out.

* * * * *

Diane Bishop opens the front door of her condo and lets Tim Fisher in.

“Your text sounded urgent,” he says. “What’s going on?"

“Not urgent. But important.” Diane locks the door. “You didn’t have to drive out here—"

“It’s fine. I met Sarah for lunch, so you’re on my way. And I know you aren’t dying to come to the office anytime soon."

“I would maybe go to Vision Publishing to watch the damn building burn down,” she says. “Maybe. Other than that, I’m staying the hell away from that place."

Tim takes a seat in one of the living room chairs, his hands resting on its wooden arms. “I assume you didn’t ask me to meet so we could talk about Vision."

“No. It’s Samantha."

Tim tenses and regards her cautiously. “What about her?"

“We had a talk the other day,” Diane explains as she sits down on the couch, drawing one leg up underneath herself. “She said she spoke with you, too."

“Oh, okay.” He lets out a small sigh of relief. “I didn’t want to say anything if she hadn’t talked to you yet."

“I’m glad she felt comfortable enough to tell both of us. You’re okay with this, aren’t you?" “It’s a non-issue. She’s my daughter. You?" “Like I would be upset that she’s a lesbian. If it’s who she is, it’s who she is.” She folds her hands together, her elegant French tips intertwining. “What I’m not okay with is this Tempest thing." “What Tempest—?” But Tim cuts himself off, because he understands what she means. “Really? Samantha and Tempest?"

“Come on. It isn’t the biggest shock. They spend a lot of time together. But that girl…"

Tim is still playing catch-up as he absorbs and processes this new piece of information. 

“I don’t like her,” Diane says flatly. “She’s got a mouth on her, and I don’t think she’s a good influence.” She sees Tim toying with a question and beats him to the punch. “And no, it isn’t because she’s black. It’s because she’s Tempest."

“And because she’s close with Claire?” 

“That certainly isn’t a winning endorsement!"

“I know you don’t like Claire, but she’s been good to Tempest — and Tempest has been really good to her, too."

Diane waves a hand. “Then let them be good to each other in their own little world. I don’t like the idea of Samantha getting tangled up in all that."

He pauses, frustrated; once Diane gets on a jag like this, she’s a runaway train. 

“Is it even serious?” Tim asks. “They’re young. It could be a passing thing."

“That’s what I hope,” Diane says. “Because I don’t like that girl, and I don’t want our daughter with her."

The shouts and smacks of afternoon hockey practice thunder through the large, hollow arena. Jason Fisher watches the play on the ice as he descends the stairs from his office, rounds the end of the rink, and walks toward the adjoining café. Once inside Thaw, his thoughts shift entirely toward the afternoon dose of espresso that he hopes will power him through the rest of his workday -- but he freezes when he sees the woman at the end of the bar, adding sugar to her drink.

His initial instinct is to turn around and forget about the espresso, but then a hot anger roars up inside him. This is his business. She knows that. She does not need to be here. In fact, it's completely inappropriate. A surge of energy is carrying him across the café to confront her when Sabrina Gage turns, coffee in hand, and spots him.

They lock eyes, but neither moves and neither speaks. 

"I assume it's just another innocent coincidence that you're at my place of business again?" Jason finally says. 

"Mr. Fisher-- This isn't-- I'm not..." She appears genuinely flustered. "Don't worry about it. I'm leaving."

She marches through the other door, which leads out to the parking lot. Jason is too wound up to do anything but tail her.

"If you don't want to see me, why are you following me?" she asks as she whips around to face him.

"Because I want answers."

"What answers? I got to leave work early. I'm putting up some shelves in my apartment and wanted some caffeine to get me through it. This place is on the way."

"There are plenty of other places to get coffee."

"I've been to this one. I'm still finding my way around. I don't know what else you want to hear." She fishes for her keys in her handbag. "I'm not interested in bothering you, I promise."

"Yet you just happened to come to the town where I live -- while people close to me are being killed -- and find a job with my sister's ex-fiancé."

"How did you know about that? Are you having me followed?"

"No! The police commander used to be my brother-in-law. Of course he checked you out." He stares at her, surprised at what a stranger she looks like, how he hardly even recognizes her, in spite of that name -- the name that immediately conjures a face and so many painful emotions.

"I promise to stay away from now on," she says. "Like you said, there are plenty of coffee shops around that would be happy to take my money."

"Fine by me."

She looks to the wet pavement, as if searching for something; suddenly her head snaps up toward Jason again. 

"I don't want anything from you," she says with a ferocity he hasn't seen from her before. "I came here to try and get my life back. I happened to get offered a great job with an amazing photographer. You can ask Philip -- he offered me the job. It wasn't like I came after him. Why is it my fault that some crazy woman stole my identity and did all those horrible things? I'm sorry about your wife, but I didn't kill her."

Before he can even formulate a response, she turns her back on him and makes a beeline for a nondescript used sedan parked on the opposite side of the lot. Jason realizes that he is watching her and averts his gaze off to the moody gray sky, which is threatening King's Bay with yet another burst of rain. 

* * * * *

The required minutes tick by with excruciating slowness. Natalie attempts to distract herself by watching TV, but whatever is on Bravo floats in front of her face and then disappears into a vapor, drifting away before any of it can sink in. All she can think about is the stick sitting on the bathroom counter.

She looks down at her cell phone and sees the timer winding down. She is on her feet before the alarm even sounds, and she silences it and darts toward the bathroom. But she is only halfway there when there is a knock at the door.

The unexpected intrusion causes her to jump. Who the hell could that be? Praying that it is only one of her neighbors with an annoying question — and not Jason stopping by for another afternoon rendezvous — she goes to the door and looks through the peephole. To her surprise, there is no one there.  “Of course,” she mutters as she pulls open the door. Waiting on the ground is a package from Amazon. She quickly brings the box aside, forgetting about it as soon as she leaves it on the table.  “Okay,” she says to herself, needing to fill the silence. “Let’s go see what this thing says.”

The test is waiting where she left it. Her entire body tenses as she leans in to look. One of the windows on top of the stick shows a blue line, indicating that the test worked. 

The other window displays a plus sign. 

“Oh… my… god,” she says to herself, clutching a hand to her stomach.

END OF EPISODE #797

Is Natalie ready to have another child?
How will Jason react to the news?
Was Jason wrong to lash out at Sabrina?
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