Spencer
Ragan’s words hit Natalie
Bishop like a bolt of lightning. She stares in disbelief at the papers in his hand as they stand in the loft on the second story of his house, her entire reality seeming to morph around her. “You’re lying,” she says, suddenly numb all over. “You’re lying."
“Because there was a good chance Peter was my son,” he says. “And now we know he is. Since I do have a kid, I’m not just going to hand him over to someone else." “Jason isn’t just ‘someone else.’ He’s your uncle. He’s a good man. A good father." Spencer
slams his hand down on the metal desk. “But he isn’t Peter’s father! That’s the point. I am!" Natalie’s
heart races. “I’m not denying that. But you said yourself that you don’t want to be a father right now. Jason loves Peter. He loves being his father. We have a home. A family. Peter will grow up loved and wanting for nothing." He
doesn’t have an immediate comeback. Natalie swears that she can see the mist of indecision float over his eyes -- and, along with it, her last chance. “You
don’t need to turn your life upside-down for a child,” she says. “Not now. Let Peter stay where he is. Let this go. You’ll be able to know that your son is being raised well, that he’s safe and happy. And you’ll still be able to have your twenties, your life." Spencer
looks down at the floor. “Please,
Spencer,” Natalie pleads. “Do what’s best for Peter and for yourself. Let this go."  “From what I hear,” Hank Bassett says, glancing up from beneath the bill of his ball cap, "you’re gonna make great parents to my boy.” It takes a moment for Alex Marshall to understand the words that he is hearing. As they sink in, he turns to Trevor Brooks in disbelief and sees that his fiancé is having much the same reaction. “Are
you serious?” Trevor asks. Hank
nods with a reserved slowness, the same sort of downbeat energy that he has displayed ever since he walked into the hospital cafeteria with Veronica Nguyen, the social worker handling Yvette’s
infant son’s placement. “Mr.
Bassett read my report on my meeting with you,” Veronica explains, “and he says that he feels confident you’ll make good parents, especially if that’s what Yvette intended." “I
got no problem with gay people and such,” Hank says. “World’s got bigger problems than people wanting to be a family." Tempest
Banks, who has been standing there motionless, now blurts out, “He met them five seconds ago!" “It’s
this lady’s job to find good parents for babies,” Hank says, casting a stern sideways glance at Tempest. “You’re just a kid yourself." She
puffs out her chest and steps forward. “What, you gonna slap me around again?" “Tempest,”
Claire
Fisher says, as she again places her hand on Tempest’s shoulder. “Don’t." But
Tempest shakes her off and then addresses the social worker, who has somehow managed to maintain a steady, even demeanor. “He
shouldn’t get a say,” Tempest rails. “Just because he got someone pregnant doesn’t mean he’s a dad. He’s a hypocrite, saying he wants a good home for his kid after what he did to me--" “Tempest,”
Veronica says. “I am… I’m sorry for whatever has happened in the past." “I
didn’t do nothing,” Hank interrupts. Veronica
shoots him a look before continuing. “But as long as the DNA results come back positive, Mr. Bassett has the legal right to place his child via private adoption. If he were petitioning to raise the child himself, that might be a different story." “What
the hell is he even doing here?” Tempest fires back. “A
lady called me,” Hank says. “Told me what happened to Yvette and that the baby was okay. Even offered to pay my way up here so I can deal with all of it." Claire
moves closer, her eyebrow raised. “What lady?" Hank
shrugs. “Her name’s Diane." ----- “Here,
let me make some room for that,” Paula
Fisher says as she springs toward the open refrigerator. Her
daughter takes a step back, a Tupperware full of Spanish rice in her grip. Like
some kind of magician, Paula manages to rearrange items inside the refrigerator so that there is ample room for the container of rice. As she is placing it in there, they hear the distance sounds of the front door opening and closing. “You’re
back early,” Sarah says to Tori
Gray as the young woman enters the kitchen. Tori
shrugs and pulls open the refrigerator.
“Thanks, Grandma.” Tori takes a seat at the table and pulls out her phone. Sarah leans
against the counter and takes a sip of her flavored seltzer. Bubbles jump up from the glass to tickle her nose as she studies her daughter. There is something sullen about Tori, an energy like an invisible curtain that stands between her and them. “Everything
okay?” Sarah finally asks. Tori
looks up, her eyes immediately defensive, as though her mother just asked if she crashed the car or robbed a store on the way home. Paula
places several Tupperware containers down beside the stove and glances toward the table with concern. “It’s
nothing.” Tori shakes her head. “Just Zane." Sarah
sets down her glass a little too hard, propelled forward by months of pent-up rage. “Did he do something to you?" “No!
It’s fine." “It
doesn’t seem fine,” Sarah says. “It’s
fine.” Tori lets out a sigh. “I keep asking him to do stuff, and he’s always too busy or something." “He
came to dinner the other night!” Paula says. “He seemed to enjoy himself.” She touches a hand to her chest as she gasps. “Do you think we scared him off? Not every girl he sees has a grandmother on house arrest…" Sarah
is barely able to conceal her reaction. “I have a feeling that nothing that happens in this family will scare that guy off." “I
think he’s just not into me,” Tori says. “But maybe I moved too fast by inviting him to a family thing. I don’t know." “You
did nothing wrong.” Sarah slides into the chair beside her daughter, who all of a sudden has been transformed by her vulnerability into an even younger version of herself. “You are a catch. You’re a smart, beautiful, clever woman. If he can’t see that, then it’s his loss." As
Paula resumes putting together a plate of food, she chimes in, “I couldn’t agree more. If he can’t make time for you, then don’t you give him another thought." Please, Sarah thinks. Because if Zane gives Tori reason to move on, then he’ll no longer have any leverage over her, either -- and she can stop thinking about whether paying him the blackmail money is her best option. “I
hope I didn’t scare him off myself,” Tori says. She drops her head down into her arms, folded on the table. Sarah
rubs her daughter’s back. “You didn’t. This isn’t about you. I promise." She
hopes that Tori will never find out just how true that is. ----- Natalie’s
hands tense into tight balls as she waits for some kind of response from Spencer. Her nails begin to dig into her palms. “Please,
just think about this,” she says. “This is something you won’t be able to take back." He
contemplates the situation for another instant, and then a new fire flares from within him. “He’s my son!
I am not letting him grow up the way I did." “What
are you talking about? Jason and I-- we’re not that
woman who raised you. We are good parents." He
rolls his eyes. “I was kept from my actual parents for the first 21 years of my life. I was lied to. And they aren’t bad people, Claire and Tim -- but because of everything that happened, it’s like I’m not really their son. They don’t trust me or believe in me. They never will. Because they can’t get past the fact that Loretta raised me. That means I can’t trust them, either." “They
love you,” she says, simply wanting to talk him down. “They
don’t! They think they do. But they can’t, because they don’t think of me as theirs. I’m not going to have that happen with my own son. I’m not." “What
the hell do you want from me, Spencer?" “Nothing!
I want my son!" ----- The
blue sedan eases to a stop beside the curb. Sabrina
Gage thanks the driver and steps out. As she searches for the house number on the exterior to confirm that the large, white, modern structure is the house she’s looking for, she notices the BMW in the driveway. This must be Spencer’s house. The
Uber pulls away, and with the notebook full of passwords to Philip’s
hard drives and accounts clutched in her arms, Sabrina approaches the house. ----- “You
can’t do this,” Natalie says, her voice teeming with desperation. “I
can, and I will.” With the DNA results in his hand, Spencer moves for the stairs. “You don’t get to play God here." “You
are going to ruin my whole life!” she screams. “We
didn’t even know about the connection when we had sex,” Spencer says. “Jason will understand. You won’t lose him." “What kind
of drugs are you on?" “We’ll
make it work,” he says, and again he goes for the stairs. “Stop!”
Natalie lunges to grab the papers out of his hands. Instead she gets a hold of his sweater. “Get
off me!” Spencer shouts as he tries to pull free from her grasp. ---- Sabrina
lifts her finger to the doorbell, but before she can press it, she hears a voice roar from inside the house: “Get off me!" It
is Spencer’s voice. She’s sure of it. “What
in the heck is going on in there?” she wonders aloud, unsure if she should interrupt. ----- Spencer
jerks away from Natalie. “This
is happening,” he says, his gaze now cold and hard. “You can either work with me or against me. But it’s happening." “Let’s
just talk,” she says, and her hand shoots out to grab the papers from him. But Spencer pulls away-- Natalie
watches in slow motion as he steps backward, but instead of finding the landing, he finds open air where he thought a stair would be. His hand juts toward her, and instinctively she reaches, but it is too late. His feet cannot find the ground, and the next thing either of them knows, he is flying backward, his heels over his head, his body thumping against the stairs as he plummets downward. ----- As
soon as Diane’s name comes out of Hank’s mouth, it is as if someone has lit a detonator attached to Tempest’s body. She surges forward, full fury radiating from her being. “I
should’ve known,” she spits through gritted teeth. “I should’ve known. She’s had her damn dirty hands in this all along."
“We can’t thank you enough,” he says to Hank, hoping to break the tension in the air. “We’re committed to being excellent parents to your son." “I’m
sure you will be." The
man’s pleasant grin is so at odds with the accusations that Tempest just leveled at him --allegations that, given her background and his interaction with Yvette, Alex believes. He hurts for Tempest, for the grief she has to go through and for having to see this person who clearly put her through so much pain. Yet he also knows that, right now, what’s most important is that baby’s welfare. ----- Claire
catches up to Tempest in the lobby of the hospital. “Honey.
Wait,” Claire says, nearly breathless. Tempest
spins around. “Just let me do this." “Do
what?" “Go
and…” She tenses again, like there are so many words trying to force their way out that they’ve created a logjam in her throat. “Deal with this. I don’t know. That bitch needs to get what’s coming to her." “I
understand that you’re upset about Diane interfering,” Claire says, “but Hank might’ve been an issue in the future anyway. This way, at least everything is aboveboard. And I know you’re upset--" “I
am pissed!" “And that’s
okay. But please, don’t do anything rash. The baby is going to be safe and cared for. Isn’t that the goal here?" That
gets some of the fire to drain from Tempest, at least momentarily. “I
guess. Yeah." “Meanwhile,
I’m worried about you,” Claire goes on. “Hank was one of the men you told me about, right? I know it can’t be easy to see him, especially unexpectedly like that." “I
hate him." “You
don’t ever have to see him again.” Claire opens her arms and tries to steer Tempest into them for a hug. “He’ll go away, and that’s that." “None
of it’s fair,” Tempest says, her voice suddenly racked with emotion. “I hate this." Claire
pulls her closer. “I know. But I’m here for you. We all are. You’re going to get through this. You are a strong woman. Okay?" Tempest
begins to sob against Claire. ----- Natalie
stands in shock on the landing. The sound of Spencer tumbling down the stairs echoes in her mind, a thumping that grows louder and louder with each repetition. He
lies to the side of the open staircase. He isn’t moving, and his body is contorted in such a way -- arm at a strangle angle, leg to the side -- that even looking at it turns her stomach. But she doesn’t see any blood. It
occurs to her that whatever she does next is going to decide a lot of things. Carefully,
she makes her way down the stairs. The lack of a railing strikes her as absolutely insane. How could he possibly have a child here? When
she kneels near Spencer’s body, cautious not to touch him in any way just yet, she confirms that there is somehow no blood. That has to be a good sign. A better sign, at any rate. She
wonders if she should call 911. Maybe there is a way to do it without anyone knowing she was here -- or at least why... The
piercing cry of the doorbell yanks her from her thoughts. ---- Sabrina
presses the doorbell and waits, as a panicky anxiety fills her chest. Something is not right. She can tell. “Spencer!
Are you in there? Are you okay?" ----- Natalie
doesn’t recognize the voice, but she can tell that it is female. She
is deathly still as she considers her next move. “Spencer,
it’s Sabrina!" Why
in the hell would she be coming over here? Natalie
thinks. There
is one thing that she does know: that she can’t be found here. Especially not like this. Unable to look at Spencer’s motionless form, she swipes the papers from his hand and rushes for the back door, praying that there will be some way to make it out of the yard undetected. ----- The
lack of response from inside only makes Sabrina more nervous. Spencer was yelling at someone -- but whom? With
trembling fingers, she pulls out her cell phone and dials 911. END
OF EPISODE 879 Will
Spencer survive his fall? What
should Tempest do next? Is
Sarah free from Zane’s torture? Discuss
it in the Footprints
Forum!
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