Message in a Bottle
Prologue
Sunday evening
Sarah Mackenzie’s apartment
Georgetown
Well it had taken all weekend, but she had made her decision. It wouldn’t be easy, and she wasn’t sure it would work. She pulled on her jacket, shoving some money and a credit card into the pocket of her jeans. Stepping into the hallway, she closed and locked the door behind her.
Ever since Friday evening she’d been depressed. Depression was a dark terror that she fought with practiced ferocity. She knew the path where depression could lead for a person with her particular weakness; she had learned all the tricks for taming the beast, and invented some of her own over the years. She worked at it daily. Some days were easier than others; some days were grueling, but for years she had won the battle. She sometimes despaired of ever winning the war.
This week had been particularly bloody. The entire week had been one confrontation after the other. Certain areas in her relationship with Harm had improved. She could rely on his friendship now, often even convinced herself his feelings bordered on love. He’d seemed reluctant to actually use the four-letter word, but he’d used many others that meant the same and more. Somehow, he sensed she wasn’t ready for that one. She could neither hear it nor say it, but she wanted it. Oh, how she wanted it. It was just all this other stuff. Why couldn’t all this other stuff go away?
It was all old stuff, she told herself sometimes. What if they’d met yesterday, they wouldn’t even know about all the other stuff. But if that were so, they wouldn’t have done all the other stuff to each other. That was the problem. Harm seemed unconcerned, willing to forgive and forget. And quite honestly she had forgiven him, she just couldn’t quite forgive herself.
Add that to the bear fight this week had been, and the fact that Harm had been out of town; and hard as she fought, depression had seeped in nearly swamping the USS Sarah Mackenzie.
It really went over the edge Friday evening, when she almost thought her schedule was finally in order. Then as she left work, two very nasty phone calls set her up for a Monday morning the worst masochist wouldn’t enjoy. On the way home she’d been delayed in traffic for an hour, and due to the heat she had to shut off her car and open the windows to prevent ruining the engine. After that, the Chinese restaurant got her order wrong. Not that it was bad, it just wasn’t what she wanted. You know how it is when things are already wrong and your one anticipated comfort is messed up.
That’s when she started her program. First she did some breathing exercises right after dinner. She tried listening to music for a while to calm her down, and discovered a huge scratch in her favorite CD. She drove to the mall, but the music store was sold out. Returning home she found an unwelcome special had preempted her favorite TV show. Then she realized she’d left her new book at work. Not trusting a bubble bath to go well, she took a warm shower and fell into bed, only to be bothered by restless dreams.
Saturday she did her chores with the precision of boot camp, first cleaning her quarters, then doing her laundry and ironing. A trip to the grocery stocked her freshly washed refrigerator. Following that, she forced herself to spend the rest of the day with Harriet and the kids as promised. Not that she didn’t enjoy Harriet and the babies, she was just so down she didn’t want to pull them with her; but she needed this diversion. It was part of her plan.
After the babies were fed, bathed, and tucked into four little beds, Harriet made huge bowls of popcorn and they watched a movie. It turned out the movie was poorly chosen for her mood. It was the saddest love story with the most dreadful ending they’d ever seen. They wound up bawling like babies.
Driving home, she anticipated another restless night. She was saved at the last minute by a phone call from Harm just as she was crawling into bed. He and Bud would be home late Sunday, and back to work on Monday. This news brought a marginal lifting of her spirits. She tried to sound friendly and cheerful, but somehow she knew Harm could tell.
Sunday she forced herself into a long run, then spent the afternoon with her dinosaurs at the Smithsonian. Still no relief, the depression was spreading. Somewhere in her mind was the glimmer of an idea; it came from the movie.
She set off down the steps turning left as she reached the street. The liquor store was in the next block. If she was going to do this, she would get a nice expensive bottle. It would be worth it.
More to come.
Message in a Bottle
Part one
Monday morning
JAG HQ
Arriving at work early, she decided she could get a quick start while the office was quiet. She placed the expensive bottle of champagne on her file cabinet as a constant reminder of her proposed solution, and sat at her computer to type. She estimated she had at least a half an hour before her most eager co-workers arrived.
To the Earth the Wind and the Sea
I consign my burdens
1. My childhood drinking and ill-advised marriage
(The escape from a tragic home life was not an excuse.)
(I’ll not add John to the list. He was perhaps a mistake, but not a burden. Merely a meeting of two souls in need; a minor rip in time and space that quickly closed)
(Dalton Lowne? No, he was simply another error in judgment. A momentary wanting of something that wasn’t right for me. I’ve even come to terms with the fact that I wasn’t responsible for his death)
2. My behavior when Harm left to fly
(Definitely a burden. If I hadn’t been so needy, hadn’t taken it personally, we would have stayed close. What followed may never have happened. Major burden, very serious mistake, worst of all because it was the first.)
3. Ambushing Harm on the ferry then running to Mic
(Yes, easily vying with item two as the biggest burden in some ways. “Make love to me stud, or lose me forever” is an amusing flirtation in a solid relationship. Hitting someone over the head with it cold, then running out while he’s still in shock was completely unfair.)
Glancing up, she quickly closed the file when Harm passed her door then backed up three paces. She knew he had unerringly spotted the bottle. Curiosity warred with concern all over his beautiful face. His sea green eyes darkened with the storm clouds of worry.
“Hi Mac,” he tried cautiously. “How’s it going?” He couldn’t keep his eyes off the bottle.
“Fine Harm,” she replied brightly. “Everything’s great, oh my, look at the time. My first appointment will be here soon.” She knew it was a little brittle, but her mood from the weekend hadn’t stabilized enough for the scrutiny he would apply. She had to head him off. Shuffling files busily, she gave him another forced smile and offered, “maybe we can have lunch one day this week, if you’re free.”
“God Mac, I cant,” he sounded truly sorry. She knew he wanted to question the presence of the champagne. “The Admiral just called me. I have to go to Norfolk. I leave in an hour. I should be back on Wednesday evening, will you be….I mean will that be okay? I could make you dinner then,” he offered, knowing she loved his cooking even if she teased him about it.
“Sure Harm, that’s fine,” she smiled with all the warmth she could fabricate. Inside she was crying, no not again, not so soon, not when I need you. But she caught herself, perhaps soon this neediness would disappear forever.
“Good,” he replied too heartily, “see you Wednesday.”
As he walked away, she mourned the fact there wouldn’t even be the opportunity for a quick goodbye in private. At work they had to be very careful, unless or until something permanent occurred between them. She often dwelt on whether it ever would.
Work held her the remainder of the day. Saving the secret file for another opportunity, she closed her computer, locked her office and walked to her car deep in thought.
She vowed to find Sturgis early in the morning, preferably before his first cup of coffee. He would be pliable and unwary of her questions.
Tuesday Morning
JAG HQ
She ambushed Sturgis as he came in for his coffee, making him wait just long enough to reach the life-giving brew. He answered her questions without more thought than he was giving to his first steaming cup.
Now armed with the tidal information, she was able to call for reservations at a small seaside motel in a coastal village. She’d needed the nearest point of land where something thrown into the water could disappear into the vast Atlantic and never be seen again. The tides had to be strong enough to rip it from the land and carry it deep into the sea. Then maybe her burdens would be gone.
Maybe those she loved could once again be happy. She could finally stop the sorrow she knew she caused those who loved her. The admission in itself had been hard, but finally she found the courage to accept that there were people who loved her. They didn’t deserve the fallout from these packets of despair that filled her overwhelming load.
The remainder of her day was consumed with work. She had no time for her list. Her duty was her distracting force until Friday, after Friday she would be free.
End of chapter one
Message in a Bottle
Part Two
1700 Wednesday
JAG HQ
Mac was securing her computer, when the phone’s strident call signaled a message her stomach knew she didn’t want to receive.
“Colonel Mackenzie,” she answered.
“Mac?” His voice held an unusually apologetic note. She could tell it was bad news.
“Harm, what’s up?” Mac tried to sound upbeat, tried to feel it.
“I’m sorry Mac, I can’t get back tonight, something’s come up on the case. My primary witness was a victim of hit and run a few hours ago, and the entire focus of the trial has changed. I’m sorry Mac, I really wanted to see you.” Worry was dripping from his words. She could picture his eyes.
The very unusualness of Harm’s contrition walked icy fingers down her spine. He wasn’t normally like this. The job was the job, always had been for both of them, and always would be, it wasn’t fodder for remorse. However, she had to admit she was both deeply disappointed, and at the same time relieved. He would ask questions if he were here. Questions he wouldn’t ask on the phone. From somewhere she pulled a voice of friendly professionalism.
“It’s okay Harm, I understand. Maybe another night,” she suggested brightly
“Mac?” he asked softly “Are you okay?” Oh God no, he wasn’t really going to go there.
“Of course I’m all right Harm,” she had to reassure him. He had a job to do.
“Okay,” he accepted with reluctance, “but one question. Agreed?”
She sighed deeply, “One question,” she agreed.
“The champagne Mac, what’s it for?” She would have bet her life on that question, and positive as she was he would ask it, she still wasn’t certain how to answer. Until she heard the words come from her mouth.
“It’s for a special event Harm,” she answered both honestly and cryptically.
“Did…uh…did someone buy it for you?” His voice held a veiled discomfort.
“No Harm, I bought it, and that’s two questions flyboy,” she tried to tease him off the subject.
“Mac that’s very expensive champagne for someone who…,” he never finished. His name was called frantically, somewhere in the background.
“Damn,” he swore uncharacteristically. “I gotta go, my witness is regaining consciousness. Mac, tell me you’re okay. Please?”
“I’m okay Harm, now go.” Verbally she gave him a professional reassuring shove.
“I’ll call you,” he said, as he quickly closed the line.
“Bye Harm,” she whispered to the electronic hum.
Falling back into her chair, she felt both a wave of relief and one of remorse wash over her. She wouldn’t have to answer his questions, at least not right now, but she also wished she could have shared her feelings with him. No, she told herself this was something she had to do on her own.
Shrugging, she reawakened her computer and pulled up her secret file. The office was almost empty, and she had nothing better to do. Might as well tie up the loose ends.
To the Earth the Wind and the Sea
I consign my burdens
1. My childhood drinking and ill-advised marriage
2. My behavior when Harm left to fly
3. Blindsiding Harm on the ferry then running to Mic
Reading them over she felt a warm rush of relief, as though these packages of pain had already begun to lift from her soul. Perhaps after Saturday morning…well best not to go there yet.
4. Allowing the situation with Mic to escalate.
(It was one thing to retaliate for what I perceived as rejection, but God help me, I almost lost my best friend, literally and figuratively. He could have died. Even up to the last minute, I could have stopped that. I knew what he was saying on the Admirals porch. I was saying the same thing. I will never know what prevented me from dragging him into the bushes when he kissed me. Right then, right in that moment in time, we defined just how much we meant to each other. Our friends, our coworkers, and our personal partners, were one thin wall away, and yet we propelled ourselves into a kiss like I’ve never even dreamed of experiencing. And somehow, when it was over, we were both too stupid, and too pigheaded, and too proud, perhaps to structured by our lives, to just wrap our arms around each other and walk away together. That of all other defining moments in my life, is the one where I can still truly say I do not understand my actions.)
5. Running away
(So many times….they need to all fit in one. It never solved anything, yet I kept doing it. I ran to the Guadalcanal because I couldn’t face the staff at work, and I was hurt that Harm went with Rene. I know deep down that if he hadn’t gone with her, taken care of her, he wouldn’t be the man I love. Given their relationship as she knew it, he had to go. To have broken up with her in that moment would have been cruel in the extreme.
Running to Paraguay with Webb, when I couldn’t take the fallout and suspicion over Harm’s possible involvement with Singer. Now that was just asinine. If there was ever a time when Harm both deserved, and had earned my trust, it was then. The fact he was trying to keep to himself a deeply personal, and for him embarrassing situation, is something I should have understood. He’s been blindsided often enough by my secrets.
Then running to Webb when we returned. No I don’t think I’ll include that. My head was messed up, Webb was messed up, Harm was messed up, the entire world was messed up. We were all like a junkyard full of old broken cars at that point. Nothing any of us did was excusable, but none of us could really be blamed for our actions either. We simply weren’t functioning. No, that one will just be filed away as a monumental FUBAR.
These are my worst burdens. I can no longer carry them. I can no longer live with them.
Signed
Sarah Mackenzie
Reading through the list once again, she was struck by the feeling they weren’t really so bad, all things considered. People had done worse things; maybe she could handle them.
But her eyes strayed to the picture on her desk, her smiling flyboy standing next to his jet that had so defined his personality, and in some ways his entire life. No, she thought sadly, I can’t do that to him. I can’t make him live with the uncertainty. Never knowing if one of these packets of despair will surface, coloring a moment in our lives that should be good.
Reassuring herself that her decision was firm, she saved and closed the file before shutting down her computer and locking her office.
Tomorrow and the next would be busy. She had promised the Admiral all her work would be caught up, before she secured early Friday afternoon. She would print this at the last minute. She hadn’t decided if she would leave a copy for Harm. Perhaps he should know. She would think about that later.
End of part two
Message in a Bottle
Part Three
Friday afternoon
JAG HQ
”Maaaac!?”
His disembodied voice could be heard before he entered the room. As he rushed through the double doors under full steam, Bud, Harriet, and Sturgis all turned from various positions, watching him come to an abrupt halt at the closed door of Lt Colonel Sarah Mackenzie’s office.
Stunned, he stood there for several heartbeats with a totally lost expression on his face. He looked at the paper in his hand then back at her door. As he slowly spun and took an aimless step on the path to nowhere, his friends were galvanized into action. The man looked as though he would shatter at any second.
Bud and Sturgis each took an arm, gently guiding him into Bud’s office, which was nearest. Harriet popped in half a minute behind them with a bottle of water. None of them knew the reason for the disconnected Commander’s near collapse.
“Harm what’s wrong?” Sturgis was the first to speak, followed closely by Bud.
“Sir, what happened.? What can we do?” he questioned, his concern deep and sincere. Harm looked like a man who had been stranded on a desert isle, destined to live his life forever severed from all he knew and loved.
“Please sir,” Harriet tried, “here, have some of this,” she offered him the water. He took it automatically and swallowed a large gulp. His throat had been working, but his mouth was too dry to form words.
“Mac,” he croaked again, “gone.”
“Gone sir?” Bud found his wits first. “What do you mean gone? She never said anything. Harriet did the Colonel say anything to you?”
Lt Sims just looked bewildered, “No she’s been a little down lately, but not enough to transfer or anything.”
“Not a transfer,” Harm managed weakly, “just gone.”
“Harm you aren’t making sense, could we have a little more to go on please?” Sturgis interjected patiently.
Harm took another deep breath, “I knew something was wrong. She had a bottle of champagne. She said it was for a special event.”
“Go on,” Sturgis encouraged, still not thinking this made much sense.
“I got back late last night, too late to call.” They all nodded listening raptly. “I was in court all day, so I sent her an email asking her to dinner.”
“Sir,” Bud said, wrinkling his face in concentration, “I’m not sure how that equates….”
“The Admiral said she was leaving early today,” Harriet piped up. “She even worked through lunch. She said something about going out of town.”
“Where,” Harm jumped on the statement, grabbing the blonde officer by her shoulders.
“I don’t know sir,” she just stared at him, as he slowly released her.
“Sorry Harriet, is there any clue, a travel brochure, did she ask for reservations to be booked? Has she talked about any place this week?” Harm was nearly frantic now, scrubbing his head and waving it side to side in distress.
They all shook their head slowly, trying to figure out how this all went together to cause the Commander’s distress.
“Sir perhaps she just planned a little vacation….” Bud’s voice tapered off at Harms insistent head shake.
“Harm what makes you so sure? What else is there? Did she reply to your email?” Turner inquired.
Harm handed Sturgis the note. Bud read over his shoulder before handing the note to Harriet.
Harm
Sorry about dinner I won’t be here. I have something important I have to do. These problems have to go away for everyone’s sake.
Love
Mac
“What problems Harm? What does she mean?” Sturgis questioned.
Harm responded by handing them the list.
“Sir…this isn’t…you aren’t thinking….? Sir everyone makes mistakes…” Bud’s eyes widened, then refused to vocalize the dark thoughts painting his mind. Harriet looked puzzled and thoughtful.
Suddenly Sturgis’ face paled visibly, a look nearly matching Harms own shadowed his features.
“What Sturgis?” Harm picked up on it right away.
“No, nothing, it couldn’t be,” he tried to divert the meaning of his thoughts.
“What is it Sturgis,” Harm grabbed the man’s shoulders as he had Harriet’s moments before. “Where is she Sturgis, tell me?” he demanded.
“Well….earlier this week, I’m so sorry. I thought she wanted it for a case. She caught me in the morning before my coffee,” he tried to explain lamely.
“Sturgis tell me. What did she ask?” Harm insisted his face darkening.
“She was asking about tides, currents. I swear Harm I thought it was for a case.”
“Where!!??” Harm roared. “Where did you tell her?”
Sturgis pulled a chart book from his desk drawer. It was still folded to the page he had shown Mac earlier in the week. He pointed to a desolate spot of coastline. “Right here Harm.”
“Why? Why did she say she wanted to know?” Harm questioned his voice still hard.
“Harm please,” Sturgis pled, but the look on his friends face made him quickly divulge the answer. “She said she needed to know where something thrown into the ocean would immediately be taken to sea. I told her here, at the turn of high tide. 0502 tomorrow morning. I’ll go with you.”
“No, I’ll go myself, I have to do this myself.” He rushed from the room, not looking at any of them. He missed completely, the look of startled surprise that suddenly flooded Harriet’s features.
“Sir,” she shouted as she spun and sprinted across the bullpen to catch up with the long legged commander. “Sir, Harm,” he heard her call, “I think I just remembered something.”
End of part three
Message in a Bottle
Epilogue
Ocean overlook
0455 Saturday
He stood in the early shadows cast by a copse of trees, as she pulled into the small parking space across the road. Every fiber in his being wanted to run to her, to hold her. It took all his years of exercising and toning his self-control to give Harriet’s idea a chance. But dear God, what if she was wrong.
Mac climbed from the deep red sports car and reached back for the bottle and a piece of paper. His heart leapt to his throat as she straightened, hesitated for a moment, then walked resolutely to the low wall surrounding the overlook. Casually she tossed her leg over, and sat down straddling the rock barrier.
She reached down and picked up a rock to secure the paper in the light breeze. Then, holding the bottle between her legs she carefully opened it, easing out the cork, not spilling a drop of the precious liquid.
His nerve endings sparked with the electric current of his fear. Harriet had to be right he kept telling himself. It made sense, sort of. It was the kind of thing Mac might do. But so was what he was thinking, if the circumstances were right. He’d been gone the better part of two weeks. The last few months had been rough on her, and she’d sounded so down on the phone. He had no idea what was bothering her, and that in itself was inexcusable. He should know. The fear that he was right urged him to move.
She faced away from him, her gaze shifting out to sea, then down at the surf below. She was waiting for the exact right moment. Her internal clock would tell her, and a tide this strong would be virtually visible.
He carefully crossed the road, staying behind her, out of her peripheral vision, cautious not to make a sound. Moving near enough to act if necessary, he stayed far enough away to prevent her from sensing his presence.
He nearly jumped when he heard her speak.
“You can’t control me any more,” she began, he thought for a flashing second she was speaking to him. Then she continued, holding the bottle before her face.
“I can look at you,” slowly her gaze raked the offending container. “I can smell you,” she held the bottle to her nose and inhaled deeply. “I can taste you,” Harm almost leaped forward, but something stayed him. As he watched fascinated, her tongue slipped from between her lips and licked the rim. “I don’t need you any more, I have something better. You are of one last use to me. You owe me this. You will take the burdens of my past and bury them where no one will ever find them.”
Carefully she tipped the bottle, allowing $120.00 worth of champagne to run down the rock face into the swirling water below. Precisely rolling the list, she slid it inside the empty container, adding a few pebbles from the ground for ballast. She stuffed the cork back in and stood. With all her weight behind it, at exactly 050230, she flung the bottle into the middle of the turning tide. As she watched it sink, a warmth and calm she’d never imagined settled over her.
Within thirty seconds, another bottle sailed from behind her, hitting the water at almost the same mark. As it sunk from view, she turned to him.
“I wondered what you would do,” she said, unfazed by his appearance.
His eyes widened, “You knew I was here?”
“I always know where you are Harm,” she answered simply.
He nodded, “I should have remembered that.”
“What was in your bottle?” She asked tilting her head curiously.
“My half,” he shrugged. She nodded, understanding.
“Harriet?” She guessed.
He nodded in return.
“Then we can truly go on without…everything?”
“Not everything,” his voice softened, “we learned Mac. Our mistakes have taught us a lot. Let’s not lose it,” he suggested.
“You’re right,” she agreed
“One question?” he requested, worry lines still playing at the edges of his eyes.
“Only one flyboy?” she teased slightly.
“Did you… is this what you would have done…if I wasn’t here, would you have done….something else?” he had to ask, but he couldn’t form the words.
“No Harm,” she replied, concern for his fear written on her face. “This is what I came to do. I have too much to look forward to; I couldn’t think of anything…anything like that. I’m so sorry, I had no idea you would take it that way.” She thought for a minute, searching for the words. “It was something I had to do, for me, for us. I didn’t know how to share it. I guess when I tried I didn’t share enough. Forgive me?” She looked up at him, her eyes slightly moist. The morning fog had caused her normally straight hair to fall into soft damp curls, giving her a wildly sensual look.
“Oh god Mac, I’d forgive you anything as long as you’re with me,” he gathered her hard against him.
“Always Harm I’ll always be with you. There’s nothing in our way now.” She almost finished the last word before his lips found hers.
The self-renewing kiss carried them into the sunrise, as they learned the taste and touch of each other. It took a while longer, but eventually the first piercing sparks of newness slipped into a comfortable sensuality, humming between them like a high-tension wire.
Their lips parted by only inches, she whispered suggestively, “I have a hotel room Harm.”
“Are you sure?” he asked, his careful thoughtfulness barely overcoming his desire.
“Uh huh,” she answered, “I paid for it with my credit card.”
“No, I mean are you sure you want to…?”
“Don’t you?” she worried, pulling back slightly.
He stared at her for a moment, holding her tightly not letting her move away.
“Wait a minute,” he shook his head, “rewind, we’re not doing this again. You say ‘I have a hotel room Harm’.”
“I have a hotel room, Harm,” she cocked her head. “And you say?”
“I can’t wait,” he whispered, gathering her close for another almost never-ending kiss.
End
This is dedicated to an online friend, a diehard shipper. He knows who he is. A while back he allowed me to dump a packet of misery in his email. Not as poetic as a champagne bottle, but just as effective.