Title: Mobius Strip
Mobius Strip
Later Saturday night
I don’t think anyone gave it a second thought when Harm offered to take me home after dinner at Shannon’s house. Certainly, Shannon accepted it without question. Harm looked as though he’d rather do anything than part company, but accepted the separation gracefully. Even so, he drove to my house more slowly than I think I’ve ever seen him drive. It was kind of sweet and funny, in a way.
I’m torn, though. I want this with him, I really do, but I still can’t reconcile it with the feelings I had for Victor all those years. I don’t know what it is for sure; I can’t put my finger on it. What I feel for Harm has always been sort of strange and wonderful, almost unreachable, but I put it aside long ago and didn’t look back. Now it bothers me terribly that I feel it still. It feels like a betrayal of sorts, and difficult as he is to resist, I just can’t go to him.
What’s even worse, I’ve started giving him mixed messages, and that is totally unfair. When I come under his spell for a moment, I find myself being pulled in, but when I step away, I start second-guessing the right of it.
We had such a lovely evening. Of course, I was captured by the magic once again. Shannon’s presence added, rather than detracted, from the enchantment. Once she relaxed completely with me, she was utterly charming. After dinner, Harm brought out a large folder that had professional prints of all her paintings. Every time she finished a new one, he had a series of custom prints made. She would always have the first signed and dated copy in her portfolio, even if she sold the originals, or gave them away. It showed every inch of his pride in her. Harm’s mother had offered to show her paintings, but Shannon refused. She wanted to gain success on her own merit before she would accept her Grandmother’s sponsorship.
He lingered a little over one print in particular, telling me that Shannon and Amanda had collaborated on it as a gift for his last birthday. It showed four Tomcats in attack formation over the Seahawk, ready to take on approaching intruders. One of the pilots was clearly Harm. I mentioned unthinking, that I hadn’t seen the painting at his house, and he blushed charmingly when he replied it was in a room I hadn’t visited. We all laughed, just a little embarrassed, but for different reasons.
I can feel the tension building in me as he pulls the car slowly into my driveway and parks it. We sit for a moment looking out at the moonlight, and I suddenly feel an urgent need to escape, before he says something I can’t deal with. Just as I reach for the door handle, he takes my hand.
“Mac wait, please. I…” he hesitates awkwardly. “I want to ask you something.”
I can feel my fingers tense in his, and will them to relax. I feel like Alice at the threshold of her looking glass, poised to step from a world of fantasy back into one of reality. My reality. A reality that I had lived for years, with no thought of Harm at all. Now suddenly it’s about to be challenged by these new and contradictory feelings, and part of me is tugging to jump right in, while another part is sounding warning bells, and telling me it isn’t right. I don’t know which part to listen to, which part to trust.
I take a deep breath and look into his eyes. I’ve always known better than to allow myself to do that. His eyes are a place of warmth and safety, no matter how badly we’ve messed things up in the past. If I’d always believed what was in his eyes, I might have done things differently. I know that now, but it doesn’t solve the source of my conflict. What I found with Victor was too wonderful to wish away. If I return to Harm, is that what I’m doing?
Mesmerized, I listen as he voices his request. “Mac….Sarah….I know….Look, I know this sounds hokey….Aw hell, Mac, you have to know by now how I feel…or maybe not,” he argues out loud with himself. “Will you have dinner with me again,” he blurts.
I look at him for a long moment before I realize he’s starting to squirm. There’s more here, but what?
“Yes, Harm, I will,” I venture cautiously. “I should be in Annapolis next week to see the boys. If you’re free….” I start.
“That’s not what I mean,” he blunders. “I mean yes, next week is good, it’s great…I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll get to see Meggie again, too?” It’s stated as a question, but still I know there’s more.
“Yes, Meggie will be with me, but Harm…” I need to know what’s on his mind. I’m not sure I want to know, but I need to know.
“Valentines Day,” he nearly explodes with the thought.
“What?” I’m stunned.
“Valentines Day. I want to take you out for Valentines Day. I know it’s one of those manufactured holidays,” he hurries on, “but still….well, it’s part of our culture, and I’d rather be….C’mon Mac, just say yes and help me out of this. I’m sounding stupid now,” he pleads. “You know what I mean.”
“Yes, Harm, I know what you mean. You don’t sound stupid,” I smile softly, “But, I don’t know,” I hesitate. I want to, God I want to, but Valentines Day makes a statement. Even if we all accept that it’s an artificial celebration, it still has come to carry a certain connotation. He wouldn’t have asked, and not so desperately, if he wasn’t giving it the full weight of that meaning. Harm doesn’t do things by halves.
“I’d like to Harm, I really would,” I duck my head, “But, I may have to help at a school party for Meggie.” The excuse is lame and rings false in my ears, but it’s the best I can do. I have to step back for a minute. I can’t let this spin out of control. If I accept this, I’m accepting something I don’t know I can justify. I have to think.
The look of reserved disappointment on his face almost breaks my heart. I’m not toying with him, I’m really not. God, I wish I could just go to him without all this inner turmoil, but I can’t, I just can’t. I have to sort this out.
“Please Harm, give me a few days to work this out.” He knows this for a fabrication and he’s puzzled by it, probably hurt. I just hope I can make him understand once I understand, if I ever do. One thing I do know about Harm, he isn’t likely to ask again. It will be up to me now.
Once again I’ve pushed him away, and I’m not sure he understands why. I can’t explain it, because I’m not sure I understand why. I know why, I just don’t understand it. There is a disastrous divide between having facts, and comprehending the meaning of them.
“Okay Mac,” he sounds withdrawn and defensive, “let me know.” His smile is genuine, but sad.
Quietly, he climbs from the car and walks around to open my door, the paradox is that I allow this courtesy. It’s only one of the things that puzzle me in our fragile new connection. Victor was the only person I ever allowed that consideration, even when it was offered. Some of the men I dated never even bothered. With Harm, I always kept us on a working level and opened my own doors. Is it the little things like that, which change the tone of a relationship? If I don’t want this would I allow it? I’m beginning to doubt I will get much sleep tonight.
He gives me a sweet kiss on the forehead, a gentle, “Goodnight, Mac,” Both are startling in their sincerity and detachment, then he hurries back to his car. As I step through the portal that takes me back to my world, I close and lock the door, knowing with certainty I won’t get any sleep tonight.
Sunday
“Hi, Mom,” she calls as I hear the front door slam and her bag hit the floor. I know I’ll have to fuss at her later to pick it up and take it to her room, but for now, I just have a deep desire, perhaps a need, for her sunny uncomplicated presence.
“I’m in here, sweetheart,” I call from the small sitting room attached to the kitchen. While the kids were young, it was a TV and playroom where I could keep an eye on them. They did their homework here and whatever hobbies were currently popular with them. Two years ago, we redid it as a place to sit, relax, and talk or read. The large windows and glass doors in this area create the aura of an indoor porch for cold weather.
“Did you have a good time?” I look up at her glowing face, flush with the excitement of her weekend.
“Wow Mom, you have no idea. We toured the quarters, and the offices. We visited the flight line, and got to look inside all the planes,” she rambled excitedly, “and guess what?”
“I have no idea, Meggie,” I answer indulgently “you tell me.” Her smile is infectious, and I echo it in spite of my inner turmoil.
“We got to peek inside Air Force One,” she confides.
“Really?” I respond, astounded by this unheard of opportunity. “How did that happen? That’s pretty secure.”
“I know; it’s awesome. Normally they don’t do that, but my group was special,” she confides, tickled by this exceptional privilege.
“Oh? How’s that?” I’m curious about this.
“I guess it’s because everyone in my group was the son or daughter of a senior military officer. They qualified us as extremely high potential for enlistment. They did background checks on us before we got there, and we were grouped together. But don’t say anything, they swore us to secrecy,” she shares. “We can’t let the other kids know, it might make them feel bad,” she offers sympathetically.
“I wouldn’t dream of it. So, it was a pretty special weekend huh?”
“Oh yeah, I honestly can’t wait to go to the academy. They had several officers who graduated talk to us, and they showed us a presentation. They gave us a bunch of manuals and brochures. The whole weekend we lived as if we were already in the Air Force. They assigned us quarters and we ate in the mess. We had to report on time for our classes and seminars, and complete tasks and assignments. We were taught to address everyone properly by rank, even though we already knew for the most part. They even gave us special uniforms to wear that showed who we were. It was so neat,” she bubbled.
“I’m so glad you had a good time, you sound excited about it all. Was there anything special you discovered?” I ask. I know what her goals have been up to now, but I wonder if this weekend changed anything.
“Not really, except it would be really cool if I could become a good enough pilot to fly Air Force One. Wouldn’t that be the ultimate, Mom?” Well, I thought fondly, she couldn’t have picked anything much bigger to fly. No one can fault her ambitions.
“Yes, it would darling. It would be a terrific responsibility and I’m sure the competition for that job is fierce. But if you pick that as your goal I see no reason why you wouldn’t have just as good a chance as anyone.” I have no intention of disparaging any of her goals, even though I realize that some of her dreams will give way to others as she matures. For now, let her dream them all.
“Would you like to go get some dinner?” I suggest. “I wasn’t sure when you would be home, so I don’t really have anything that’s easy to fix.”
“That would be cool, let me put my bag away then we can go. Will fifteen minutes be okay?” she asks.
“That’s fine, just let me know when you’re ready,” I reply as she hurries to the front hall.
I hear her taking the stairs two at a time, and her door slam as she goes into her room. Score one for the Air Force, I think. In one weekend she’s learned to pick up after herself, but she still slams doors. I muse over how long this quickly instilled habit will last.
Fuddruckers
“What did you do this weekend, Mom?” It was such an innocent question I didn’t see it coming as we climbed back into the car.
“Not much,” I reply, trying to brush aside the inquiry. I have too much to work out right now.
“So, what? You just sat around the house and read a book the whole time?” She knows my face too well, and has found something there.
“No, Meggie,” I sigh. “I had dinner with Harm,” I admit.
“And that’s a bad thing how?” she asks in the way teenagers have of digging every scrap of information from you.
“It’s not a bad thing,” I answer. “Why would you think that?”
“Well let’s see, if I was you and the Captain took me to dinner, I don’t think I’d look so down about it,” she teases. In her own way, Meggie is as captivated by Harm as I am.
“I’m not down, Meggie, just a little confused, that’s all,” I answer distractedly.
“About what?” she pounces, and I realize my mistake immediately
“It’s nothing, sweetheart. Let’s talk some more about what you did,” I try to divert her, knowing it won’t work.
“Unh uh, no way, c’mon, Mom, spill it. What went wrong?” she looks worried now.
“Nothing, we had a wonderful time.” Then what’s my problem, I question myself
“So, what’s the problem?” she echoes my thoughts.
“I met Shannon,” I try a diversion.
“His other daughter?” she looks interested.
“Yes, she’s very pretty. And she’s a wonderful artist,” I elaborate.
“I thought she was pre-law,” she questions.
“She is, but she’s an artist as well,” I tell her, hoping I’ve taken her off the scent.
“He took you both to dinner?” she’s curious.
“Nooo, not exactly,” I vacillate.
“Well, exactly what? You know I’m not going to stop asking questions until you tell me everything,” she reminds me.
“Are you sure you don’t want to be a lawyer, Meggie?” I ask her a little sharply. “You’d do well in a courtroom.”
“No. I’m only this nosey with people I care about,” she responds completely unaffected.
“I know, dear, it’s just complicated.” Now where have I heard that before?
“How? Where did you go?”
I have to give her points for persistence.
“Friday we went to a little place on the waterfront in Alexandria,” I tell her. “We had a lovely dinner and talked for several hours.”
“Did he kiss you?” she inquires with a knowing smile that brings back memories of Chloe. Sixteen year olds are a force to be reckoned with.
“Meggie!” I try to scold her boldness, but a small laugh escapes to spoil the effort.
“Well did he? It’s about time,” she responds precociously.
“It’s none of your business young lady. I wouldn’t tell you even if he did.” I know my voice is betraying me.
“Which means he did. Cool,” she exclaims.
I can only shake my head, but I’m blushing slightly. I bless the fact its dark now.
“So when did you meet Shannon?” she allows me a moment to regroup.
“That was Saturday night.” I struggle to regain my composure. “She had some kind of exhibit on Saturday and they invited me over for dinner at her place afterwards.”
“So you think she’s nice?” Meggie looks at me sideways.
“Yes, dear, she’s very nice, and smart, and very pretty. As are all our children,” I try to forestall any feelings of jealousy, although Meggie’s very well adjusted. I doubt that emotion would possess her for long.
She giggles at that. “You’d better not let Ricky hear you say he’s pretty.”
I have to laugh with her, “Scamp,” I call her. “You know what I mean.”
“I know,” she laughs some more at her joke. “So what’s wrong? If you had a good time and everyone got along, what’s the problem?”
We’ve reached home now and hurry inside. The weather has been ugly off and on for a week, and the night air is cold and damp. Right now, it’s starting to rain. Much as I loved our dog, I’m glad I won’t have muddy paws to deal with tomorrow.
We take off our coats, hang them in the hall to dry, and she repeats the question.
“Mom, what’s the problem?” she isn’t going to let this alone, and maybe she’s the one I need to talk to. She’s young, but she’s levelheaded, and after all, the reasons for my dilemma involve her. Besides, she’s the one who started it all by talking me into accepting Harm’s invitation that first evening back in August. She saw something then, and much as she’s always been Victor’s special little girl, it didn’t bother her. I need to know why.
“Tell you what,” I propose, “let’s get into our warm jammies and you come crawl in my bed, then we’ll talk okay?”
“You mean it?” she asks, uncertain if I will actually confide in her.
“Yes, Meggie, I mean it. Girl talk. I think I need your input on some things.” I tell her seriously.
I make a last check of all the doors before going upstairs. By the time I’ve changed and turned the bed back, she’s coming through the door with a small tray and two big mugs.
“What’s this?” I ask her, smiling at the initiative.
“Chocolate,” she replies proudly. “Girl talk practically requires chocolate Mom, and I added some marshmallow just in case we needed something extra.” I think I have her worried, but she’s being brave about it.
“That’s a wonderful idea,” I acknowledge as she places the tray down on my bedside table, and crawls beneath the comforter. Propping herself against the mountain of pillows, she turns and reaches for the mug I hand her.
I settle myself, and realize it’s time for the confidence I’ve promised.
“Meggie,” I begin. “I don’t really know where to start.”
“The beginning is usually good, Mom,” she reminds me.
“Which beginning?” I muse half to myself.
“How about the first one,” she suggests.
“It was so long ago, Meggie.”
“But you were in love then? You and the Captain?” she verifies.
“Yes, I guess we were, only thing was, we kept it a secret,” I remark ruefully
“From your friends?” she questions.
“No,” I laugh a little at that, remembering certain looks, certain remarks. “From each other.”
“Why?” she asks candidly.
“Who knows?” I shrug. “The job, we worked together. It always seemed like tomorrow would be there. Then some terrible things happened, a serious misunderstanding, and suddenly there was no tomorrow.
“What sort of things,” she delves.
“It was a CIA mission, classified. It went sour. We nearly didn’t survive,” I tell her the only thing I can.
“Then you met dad?” she looks for clarification.
“No, I’d known your father for many years. He’d worked at JAG too.” Strangely, we’d never really told the children this part of our history.
“But you weren’t in love with him?”
“I loved him as a friend, and as a person. In fact, Victor….your dad, was a very special friend. He helped me several times, even saved my life four times,” I tell her with a proud smile.
“Four times? Do I get to hear those stories?” She asks
“Maybe sometime,” I half promise.
“So when did you fall in love?” She asked perceptively.
“Later,” I say vaguely. “Harm was gone then, and Victor rotated back to the States. He’d decided to leave the Marines. He spent the last few months at JAG before joining NCIS. I guess with him leaving the Marines, not being enlisted any more, I just looked at him differently. I realized how wonderful he was as a person, what a good friend he was, when I’d never before thought of him as anyone other than a Gunnery Sergeant, a fellow Marine,” I try to explain.
It was a minor adjustment in events, but I never believed that the real story was anything that anyone would believe. It happened, but it wasn’t plausible that we’d exercised the self-control necessary to make it right. Mostly thanks to Victor. It stretched the bounds of credulity to try to make any one else believe it.
“The last mission we had together was an NCIS operation, and that was when he saved my life the fourth time.” I know how this sounds, but she is a teenager, and a child of the military, schooled in protocol. I will never say anything that would make her question Victor for even a minute.
She looks fascinated with my recital of these events, and I expect I’ll have to answer more questions in time. The children always knew that Victor was once a Gunnery Sergeant, but they also knew that he worked for NCIS when we were married. I’m not sure they ever really examined the actual dates, or how closely the events were timed.
“So, it was after this last mission, when he saved your life, that you fell in love with him?” she asked.
“In a way,” I tell her. “I think it was more the love I felt for him changed. When we were no longer restricted by our uniforms, it was easier for our emotions to take over. Your father was a very warm and loving person.” I smile fondly, as I tell her this. “He wasn’t easy to resist when he set his mind to something, and I soon found I had no desire to resist him.”
She smiles happily, sharing these memories of our early love. I think, at heart, Meggie is the same kind of romantic that Victor was. In the beginning, it had surprised me, but later in our life together it became something I learned to enjoy and count on.
“He was just exactly the kind of man I want to find,” she confides.
“Just don’t rush yourself, sweetheart. Make sure the character is there before you let them in. A lot of them aren’t what they seem at first. Your father and I were friends for years. We knew and trusted each other before we allowed the passion to take over,” I advise her.
“Is that the problem with the Captain,” she asks wisely. “You don’t trust him? Did I misjudge him?” she asks with trepidation.
I’m floored by this extrapolation. “No, Meggie not at all. Your judgment of Harm is perfectly sound. I think you saw everything we used to have so long ago.”
“Then what’s the problem? I still don’t understand. If Harm…er….the Captain is a good man and you trust him, then why don’t you want to be with him?” her concern is growing in direct proportion to her lack of understanding. I’m not sure I can explain it to her when I can’t sort it out myself.
“I guess that is the problem. I can’t let him displace your father, Meggie,” that’s not what I mean exactly, but it’s as close as I can come.
“Is he trying to,” she bristles. “I think he cares about you Mom, but….”
“No Meggie, I don’t think he means it that way. It’s me, darling, I’m the one who can’t get it figured out. I’m the one who doesn’t feel right,” I try to clarify. “Meggie let me ask you this.”
She nods.
“Why did you want us to have dinner that first night. Why did you ask those questions about Harm?’
She’s silent for a moment then she looks up at me with her large brown eyes. “I wanted you to be happy. He was the only person in the world that was making you smile. I thought he loved you, and maybe you could love him too, at least a little. Not to replace Daddy, just so you could be a happy again. Daddy’s gone Mommy, he can’t be here any more,” breaking completely she falls into my arms sobbing. My eyes tear immediately in response, God in heaven I don’t want to make her this miserable. She, of all of us, seemed to be handling this so well. I had no idea she was just being tough for me.
vI hold her close for a long time until her tears stop and the tiny jerks of her sobs quiet. I wonder if she’s fallen sleep in my arms when she moves slightly and asks. “Will you see him again?”
“Harm?” She nods against my chest. “He asked me to, do you think I should.?”
“Do you want to? I mean really, not just for me, do you like him enough?” she asks perceptively.
“Yes, I think I do, I’m sure I do,” I tell her more firmly.
“Then you should,” she responds decisively.
“He asked me,” I say quietly.
“What did you say?”
“I told him I had to think about it,” I reply thoughtfully.
“And now?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Why?” she suspects there’s more.
“He asked me for Valentines day,” I explain.
“I see.” She sounds so wise I almost laugh. “I guess that sort of means something huh?”
“Yeah, I think so,” I agree to the obvious.
“What are you going to tell him?”
“Do you think I should accept?” I’m still uncertain about the day, not about the dinner.
She studies me silently for a minute before she responds. “You deserve to have someone to love Mom, and….and so do I. He has a lot of love to give, and we like him an awful lot. But only if you’re sure. I just want you to be happy. Not just have him to fill a space. Does that make sense?” she looks uncertain.
“Meggie, it makes more sense than anything that’s occurred to me in a long time. You are a treasure. You know that, don’t you?” I tell her, kissing her on the nose.
“Yeah, I know, I’m just glad you finally realize it,” then she giggles in that sassy manner of hers, to show me she’s poking fun at me, and I laugh in return. Our talk, our cry, and our laughter, has relieved a lot of tension. It hasn’t solved all my misgivings, but it’s cleared the way for more ordered thought.
“I guess I’ll call him tomorrow,” I tell her, as we lay there getting ready to fall asleep.
“Better hurry, Mom. He’s a real looker. Someone else could come along and snatch him up,” she jokes.
“Do you think I should call him tonight,” I ask her in mock seriousness, unable to hold the laughter.
“I think tomorrow will be fine, I suspect he’ll wait a few days,” she replies through her giggles.
With a deep sigh, I sink back against the pillows and reach for the light switch. “I wonder what the boys will think of this,” I muse in the dark.
“Robby’s on board, Ricky’s still a little suspicious, but they both know his intentions are honorable,” she informs me firmly.
I turn to look at her in the moonlight coming through my windows. “And you know this how, young lady?”
“Because they asked him,” she replies in a throwaway manner.
“They what!?” I sit straight up in bed.
“They asked him,” she looks smug. “You don’t think they were going to let him get away with anything, do you, Mom?”
“Oh, God, Meggie. How am I ever going to face Harm again?” I can’t believe this.
“Just like you did the last time, only for now you have to pretend you don’t know this. The last time you really didn’t,” she explains with an oversimplification.
“They really asked him what his intentions were?” I’m having visions of this interview. Of Eric’s face, stern and demanding an answer, and Robert’s face, gentler, more compassionate, yet still unyielding.
“Yeah, I can’t wait to hear the whole story,” she provides sleepily. “They couldn’t say much in the email.”
I’m both appalled and amazed, but I shouldn’t be. There is so much of Victor in the boys, especially Eric. My mind flashes briefly to a scene on the Guadalcanal many years ago. How like him, I think, as I lie back down and drift off to sleep.
Monday morning
“This is General Galindez calling. May I speak to Captain Rabb please?” I ask his yeoman.
“Just one moment Ma’am, he just came in from class,” is the prompt reply.
“Hi, Mac,” his voice is on the line in a heartbeat. He sounds diffident, but I can hear fretful anticipation in it too.
“Hi, Harm,” I answer. “About next weekend, are we still on?” I inquire checking the temperature of our relationship.
“Of course, I’m looking forward to it,” his voice takes on a more relaxed tone and a smile.
“Me too,” I tell him suddenly shy. I still haven’t sorted this all out, and I’m not sure how I will, but I can’t lose him while I work my way through it. The line is silent for a long moment.
“Uh….Mac, was there….?”
“Harm about the other…that is ….the other invitation. Is that still good too,” I feel uncomfortable asking. I hope I’m not mixing my messages again, but I can’t know if this will work if I don’t try, and I do want to try. Meggie is right. We all have a lot of love to give. Whatever we hold in our hearts for the past, we still need to share our love with someone who’s here for the future.
“Yes, Mac,” he says, “it’s still good. Nothing would make me happier.” I believe he means it. I can see the smile on his face even through his voice. It’s the one that lights up his eyes, and I’m so glad. When we first met again in April, I was hurting so deeply I missed the hollowness in his eyes. Perhaps later, it was overshadowed by his quickly growing love, but still the loss was there.
I know that I need to trust the bond that’s growing between us, and between our children. Whatever problems I still have, I’m confident I’ll find a solution. If this were wrong, our children would know. I need to trust this man, and my feelings, to show me the way.
End of twenty-six.
Mobius Strip
0930 Monday Morning
The breath I’ve been holding for nearly two days rushes from my lungs, and I collapse against the back of my chair. My fingers find sleep-deprived eyes, rubbing away the sand of fatigue. Passing across my forehead scrubbing at the tension, they trail through my hair, leaving it crumpled and unruly. I lean my elbow on the chair arm, and cradle my chin. Focusing blindly out the window, I try to figure out what the hell just happened.
Friday night I found fear for the first time in our renewed friendship, when I considered the idea of separating her from the zone of comfort that was her home. Somehow, she’d put me at ease, and by the end of the evening I was pleasantly surprised when she flirted lightly with me.
Then Saturday she was withdrawn, almost edgy when I asked her out. Perhaps I moved too fast with the suggestion of a dinner that held romantic overtones. But gauging her reactions of the night before, it didn’t feel out of line. Not until I came up against the brick wall of Sarah Mackenzie at her ironclad best. Where the devil had it come from? What happened between Friday and Saturday that created a sudden 180-degree change?
I’d searched my memory for anything I’d said or done, and could find nothing. I’d asked Shannon about her conversation with Mac, over breakfast on Sunday, and she was surprisingly candid. The warm glow I felt from the way Mac handled that touchy issue was at odds with her response to me on Saturday night.
The only option left to me was to lie awake for a second night, trying to discover the reason for those mixed messages. It wasn’t like Mac. We’d had our troubles to be sure. Our past was awash with misunderstandings, but they had always had a source. Something I’d done or said, some action or comment of hers, something somewhere that the other person had misinterpreted, but still, there was a basis for the reaction, however incorrect. This had no understandable foundation, no event, no statement, no action. During those brief minutes in the car, I thought I’d lost her.
I didn’t want to give up; I didn’t want to quit loving her. I wasn’t even sure I could, not now that I’d found her and my new love for her, but I couldn’t pursue her if she refused me. It wouldn’t be appropriate as a gentleman, and it would be forbidden as an officer in the Navy. Our lives had been driven for a lifetime by the uniforms we wore, our emotions ruled by a contract we had signed so long ago. It was second nature now to obey the strictures, no matter how it hurt.
Perhaps as civilians, I could have called her, sent flowers, or showed up on her doorstep, to declare my love and ask for explanations, but we were military. The military didn’t behave that way, moreover, it was forbidden by our rank, and I had to abide by those rules. If she invited my advances, we could work around it based on a long ago friendship, but without permission I could do nothing but wait.
If I’d somehow blundered, sending our friendship back to last August, or even last April. I could handle it. My friendship with Mac was the most important thing, it always had been. In the past, perhaps to the exclusion of anything more. This time, I’d decided, I definitely wanted to take it beyond friendship, and I’d taken a very dangerous chance. I’d cavalierly ignored the fact she is now a General and the JAG, even my own CO warned me in fairly clear terms that he would take action if she objected to my interest.
There was a forest of new emotions growing on the fallen tree of our past. What worried me most was that I’d set us back the entire eighteen years, to a place when the tree had shriveled and died an agonizing death. That I’d never be able to see her, except formally, ever again. I wasn’t sure how I would handle that.
Still mulling the ramifications of the weekend, and her phone call, I’m sitting here staring vacantly into space when the intercom buzzes.
“Yes,” I answer distractedly.
“Sir, did you want me to arrange a substitute for your 1000 class?” my yeoman inquires pointedly.
“What? No! Sorry. I’m on my way,” I reply hurriedly, as I gather the lesson plan quickly and rush for the door.
Whatever happened may clear itself in my head if I let go of it for a few hours. I’ll be in class until 1200. My conscious mind will have to concentrate solely on young men and women with a deep desire to serve their country, and I must serve them by giving my best. This personal issue must now take a subordinate role for at least two hours.
No, I forgot I have a lunch meeting with the head of engineering and three more classes this afternoon. I won’t be able to give any more attention to the issue until I get home this evening. Shutting it out of my mind entirely, I step into the classroom three and a half minutes late, and nod a formal greeting to the twenty eager faces that turn my way.
Tuesday Evening
I usually enjoy the walk home, even in the winter, but so far the weather has been as miserable as last week. In fact, it hasn’t been particularly pleasant since Christmas. When I walk, it gives me time to get outside myself and think. Walking is easy; it takes no skill, and little additional attention. Driving, however, on these steep narrow streets is a challenge any time. In foul weather, it’s a royal pain.
I pull into the driveway and wait for the garage door to open. Watching it gives me a special sense of pride. It wasn’t easy to install in the old building. The framing wasn’t meant to handle a modern door. It took most of one summer to reinforce the sagging structure, and get it squared properly so the automatic door would work.
Ducking out the side door, I make a quick dash to the back of the house, up the steps, and into the sun porch overlooking the small bay. I leave my work on the table in the kitchen, and take the stairs two at a time, hitting the thermostat as I pass to warm the house a little for the evening ahead. By the time I’ve changed, and returned to check the refrigerator for dinner, the house has a warm cozy feel, and I’m no longer chilled.
All the while, my mind is still running the events of the weekend, and Mac’s phone call yesterday morning. The more I ruminate on this, the more I feel it’s something internal with her. I don’t believe anything happened between us that I’m not seeing. Usually, I’ve been able to figure out where we went wrong if I thought about it. Occasionally, I didn’t think about it soon enough or hard enough, but when I did give it thought, the reasons came easily. In this case, I’m beginning to believe it’s a personal struggle and not directly about me. I hope she will talk to me soon, if I’m right, it will make it easier to help her.
Maybe it has to do with my thoughts about her home early on Friday evening, but if that were the entire solution she wouldn’t have called, or at least she wouldn’t have accepted my invitation to dinner next month. No, there’s more than that. I’m just grateful at the moment, she’s keeping the lines open. As a precaution, I make a quick reservation for Saturday evening at our favorite restaurant overlooking the harbor. At this point, I don’t want to presume anything by inviting her to the house, even though Meggie will be with her.
Saturday Evening
It’s still raining miserably, though fortunately, we’ve had no more snow. Nevertheless, this cold wet drenching rain, the wind that gusts cold rivulets down every tiny crevasse in your clothes, makes it impossible to step out a door without getting chilled. The room is filled with hungry people and wet clothing, comforted by the heat of a roaring fire in the huge fireplace. It does more than warm our bodies as we eat. It warms our mood as well. Meggie’s a little quiet, not as bright and sunny as usual. But Mac has been open and friendly. Her smile has been unreserved all evening, nothing in her face or eyes tell me she isn’t genuinely pleased to be here sharing dinner with me.
Most of our conversation has been general, and although Meggie has joined in, she isn’t prodding for stories or teasing for secrets the way she usually does. It’s as though Mac’s disposition of Saturday night has been somehow transferred to her daughter. Something’s going on here and I need to get to the bottom of it. I also need to tread carefully. If this is strictly a family matter, then it’s none of my business. But if it concerns me, I want to find the source of these recurring emotions.
It’s not until Mac excuses herself that I get the first clue. Meggie has been looking out the window. Not exactly sullen, that would be a rare emotion in the young woman I’ve come to know and care for. However, she seems lost in thought over something that’s bothering her deeply.
Suddenly she turns to me. “Do you intend to keep my mother out all night on Valentines Day, Captain?” she asks, her dark eyes burning with a meaning I can’t fathom.
“What? Meggie, whatever gave you that idea? Of course not,” I protest.
She just nods her head, but continues to study my face. “I didn’t really think so,” she finally admits. Her face is a fleeting study of relief, as though she suddenly regained a trust, and wasn’t sure she’d ever lost it. Then she turns back to the window to stare into the dark night.
I’m not sure what else to say to her, this conversation doesn’t have many safe paths.
“You didn’t seem like the type to do something like that,” she finally admits quietly, without looking my way.
“Meggie, I’m not sure we should be discussing something like this, even in the vaguest terms,” I tell her uncomfortably.
She turns and looks at me, smiling shyly as though I’ve just answered another question. “I know,” she sighs in resignation, “but I couldn’t figure out how else to find out what I needed to know.”
“Meggie, is this about me?” I ask her cautiously. In broad terms, I could have this conversation with her brothers. They are older, and I guess it was sort of a man-to-man family thing.
“Apparently not,” she reveals, suddenly upset. “I guess it’s about me.”
“I don’t understand,” I tell her, wondering if I’m opening another can or worms.
“Neither do I, Captain. My mother asked if I could stay overnight with a girlfriend on Valentines Day. At first, the only thing I could think of was …well… what I asked you just now,” she looks away. Now that the bold moment had passed, she looks a little embarrassed at delving into an area too personal to discuss. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just….now that I know it isn’t you, I don’t know what to think.”
“When did this come up. Meggie?” I ask her.
“Last night,” she admits, “After you called.”
“I can see how you jumped to the wrong conclusion, but I assure you you’re wrong. However, since I told your Mom we’d be dining at a place that has a dance band for after dinner, she may have thought we’d be out too late to leave you alone,” it’s the only explanation I can think of.
“That doesn’t make sense,” she protests. “Mom and Dad always let us stay by ourselves when they went out, ever since my brothers were thirteen. They always trusted us before, why not now?”
I’m not entirely certain, but a tiny glimmer of an idea is lighting in my head. Though, it’s going to take more thought, and more careful exploration to figure it out.
“Meggie,” I reply, “I’m sure your mom has a sound reason. Why don’t you ask her,” I suggest.
“I did, but she just says she’s worried about me,” she shares the answer that’s obviously insufficient to her.
“Do you want me to ask her?” I offer.
She shakes her head. “Captain, I….that is….I guess….well….I didn’t want to be nosy,” she looks away again, her cheeks reddening slightly. “I mean after encouraging you and all, but I just thought….but if that’s not it, then I can ask her again,” she stumbles charmingly embarrassed.
“Ask me what?” Mac looks puzzled, as she returns to the table.
“Why you suddenly don’t trust me?” Meggie confronts her defensively.
“Where on earth did you get that idea, Meggie?” she responds, but her tone tells me she may understand the problem.
“You won’t let me stay home when the Captain takes you out. You’ve always let us stay home,” Meggie protests, “and since he’s not planning to keep you out all night….”
“Good grief, Meggie, you didn’t…” but she falters too, and looks my way.
I’m afraid my face confirms her worst fears, that Meggie did indeed ask me that question.
“Oh God, Harm. I’m so sorry. I had no idea she’d go that far,” Mac apologizes. “Look why don’t you take us back to the Inn.” She begins gathering her things, suddenly embarrassed.
“Mac, please, Mac, its okay. Meggie was just concerned about something. Please, let’s not allow this to blow out of proportion. I’m not upset okay?” I can’t let her overreact to this. There is something strange in Mac’s family dynamic suddenly, and even if this doesn’t concern me directly, I don’t want to allow it to develop into a barrier.
She calms for a minute, “Okay,” she responds, “but still….”
“Look, would either of you like some desert, or maybe coffee? I think we need a moment to breathe here. Whatever is going on is obviously a family matter, and it’s none of my business, but let’s relax for a minute and put it into perspective,” I suggest.
She nods a bit reluctantly, then turns to Meggie. “I think you owe the Captain an apology, miss,” she says firmly.
“I…I’m sorry Captain, I didn’t mean….” her face starts to crumble. It’s the first time I’ve ever thought she might cry, and my hero complex rushes to her rescue.
“It’s all right, Meggie. You had a legitimate concern based on the information available. Sometimes it’s better to wait until you have more facts though, okay?” I offer her a way out and a smile.
“Okay, I promise,” she answers my smile.
“Fine, we’ll talk about this later,” Mac intercedes, cocking an eyebrow at my soft approach. Something’s messing with her again, and I wish she’d tell me, but I have to let her have whatever time she needs to solve it for herself.
We order coffee, and Meggie tries a chocolate custard concoction that she doesn’t care to finish, she must still be upset, so Mac and I help her with the last few spoonfuls. Nothing more is said on the subject Meggie brought up. Once everyone’s nerves have settled a little, I drive them back to the Inn near the Academy where they are staying. Escorting them to the door, I hope fervently if there is any problem I can help with, that Mac knows by now she can count on me. I wonder, maybe Shannon would like to meet Meggie…..
Valentines Day
When I called Shannon on Sunday, she said she’d be delighted to have Meggie spend the night. Amanda had been enchanted with her, and Shannon was actually feeling a little left out. Andie had met Mac and all of her children as well as having witnessed our growing relationship from the beginning. Things developed so quickly over the holidays that there had been no time to include Shannon.
When she finally met Mac, they had bonded over the stories that Mac could tell of her father, and some that she told in edited versions that included all three of us during those years. But she hadn’t had the chance to meet Meggie, Eric, or Robert. The chances were small that she would meet the boys before summer break, but there was no reason she and Meggie couldn’t get acquainted.
I was startled when she suggested an explanation for the tension between Mac and Meggie.
“I don’t understand what the problem is Shan,” I told her, “but Mac is adamant Meggie not stay alone, and Meggie is just as adamant that this has never been an issue before.”
“Have you taken her out before, without Meggie?” she asked, almost certainly knowing the answer.
“No, we’ve always had dinner in Annapolis, when they come to visit Eric and Robert. There was just that one time when Meggie was out of town,” I frowned into the phone.
“Has she dated anyone else? I mean since she lost her husband,” Shannon clarified.
“I doubt it,” I told her, almost sure of my answer. Meggie was too adamant in her suggestion about us all having dinner together until Mac was more comfortable. And I think her sons would have been a strong barrier. “No, Mac’s loss was pretty deep,” I assured her. “I don’t think even now she considers our dinners to be a date. There was just that one time,” I referred to our date the previous week.
“I see,” she said thoughtfully.
“You see what?” I couldn’t contain a thread of exasperation that forms in my voice.
“Its easy, Dad,” she informed me. “She hasn’t been out since her husband was killed, nor since the boys went off to school. Now she’s finally left the house, and returned to it all quiet and empty. Not only that, she’s faced with leaving Meggie there alone for several hours at night. Dad, that house is pretty isolated when you stop to think about it. Maybe for the first time since she moved there she’s feeling uncomfortable. I’m sure with a house full of people, several of them big strong men, the location seemed a peaceful haven, but with just her and Meggie maybe she’s fearful.”
I snorted quickly, “If you don’t want to sink your new found friendship with Mac, I wouldn’t suggest that she’s afraid of anything,” I informed her, but something from her thoughts is coalescing in my mind.
“No, Dad, not for herself, she probably believes she can take care of herself, and maybe she can. But if someone broke in, could she protect Meggie as well? There are some nasty people in the world,” she voiced a fretful warning.
All I saw the night I picked her up was a beautiful little home, surrounded and protected by its trees, and the love a family had lavished on its care. But when I left her off later I’d seen something different. It was a lovely house too far from help if anything were to happen, and close enough to a rundown part of the nearby township to be a target for prowlers. The concept didn’t fully form in my mind until Shannon suggested it, but now I realize it was the source of my teasing when I asked her to lock the door before I left her that night.
I called her the following Monday and diplomatically offered, “Hi Mac, I have a little suggestion. If you still need a companion for Meggie when we go out, Shannon wants to meet her and would be happy to stay with her.” I worded it this way to discover her reaction. I wasn’t completely surprised.
“Oh, Harm, that’s very kind, but I was thinking, well, it would be better if Meggie were to….um….not be at the house,” she didn’t want to tell me her problem, so typically I went to her verbal rescue.
“Well, Shannon did suggest that it would be better if Meggie could come to her place, Mac. I guess she’s working on a pretty involved paper for one of her classes, and she wondered if that would be convenient for you. That way she wouldn’t have to try to take all her research material.” It was a small rearrangement of the facts, and I fully intended to own up to it as soon as the issue is out in the open, but it allowed me the information I needed, and let her keep her own confidence until she was ready to share it.
“Meggie and I are still discussing this, Harm,” she informed me. The tone of her voice led me to believe it was not a very happy discussion. “But maybe Meggie would like to meet Shannon, too. I know she was curious when I told her about our meeting. Maybe if it’s sort of a sleepover type of thing….” she suggested. We all knew that ruse would fool no one, least of all Meggie, but it would allow her to retain her dignity in the face of Mac’s insistence. And it allowed Mac her comfort, without compromising the privacy of her concerns.
The best part for me was I found a way to help her without intruding on an issue she wasn’t ready to share. This must be a source of deep discomfort to her. As I pull into the long driveway and once again admire the appearance of the charming home among the trees, I wonder how she will resolve it.
Meggie is already gone. Shannon picked her up right after school and they had their evening all planned after several telephone conversations. As I observed before, nobody was fooled by this arrangement, but it proved to be a solution that everyone seemed happy with.
End of twenty seven ‘a’
Mobius Strip
Valentines Day
Time moves on a different wavelength when I’m near her, and without conscious thought, I suddenly find I’ve moved from the end of her driveway to standing before her antique front door, waiting for her to answer. I’m glad Shannon made me buy this suit, I feel confident in it. It’s a dark black-blue, virtually the color of my uniform. I protested the choice as the cost of the silk/wool designer label hit my credit card, but Shannon’s reply was ‘forget the brass buttons and gold braid Dad, it’s your best color,’ as she paired it with a pale blue silk shirt, and a blue striped tie that has just the tiniest red thread running randomly though the stripes.
“Hi…uh…earth to Harm?” she breaks my reverie.
“Oh! Hi Mac, sorry,” I apologize, as she pulls the door open. “I was just…..” suddenly I have no more breath for speaking.
“Harm, are you okay? Is anything wrong?” she looks concerned.
“What? No….uh….no, it’s….um….God, you look delicious. I mean….that is….beautiful,” I stumble like a fool. In a gorgeous deep red gown that sort of drapes and swirls around her when she moves, she definitely looks good enough to eat. I just didn’t mean to say that out loud.
She laughs with a light musical sound and a meaningful sparkle to her eyes, that lets me know she has had just exactly the effect on me she had planned. “Thank you,” she offers with a charming smile. “Would you like anything before we go? A drink or something?”
It’s all I can do to resist saying ‘or something’, but she sees it in my eyes and lowers her lashes for a minute, before her gaze returns. Not quite, but almost, I think we’re getting there. “No, no thank you,” I reply absently.
I’m still wary of her reaction last month. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the Meggie/house issue, there’s more going on with her, but maybe it’s something we can work through. All the signals say it’s something she wants to work through, and I’m going with that until she tells me anything different.
I’m not going to let my imagination place barriers in our path this time. I’m working from facts, and the fact is she’s dressed in a way that tells me she wants my attention, and not the platonic kind. If I get any more signals that don’t make sense, I’ll try to work through them the way I finally did the last time, and not lose hope. This has to be difficult for her.
I’ve dated women since I lost Catherine, but it has never been serious, so essentially I’ve been alone for almost nine years. Although my loss burdens and grieves me at times, I’ve worked through it and past it. Her loss is relatively new, only little more than a year old, it’s still a strong presence in her life. As long as I know where we’re going, I have no objection to doing it slowly.
“Harm?” she asks again, concerned for my inattention. “Is something wrong? Do you want to call this off?”
“No. God, no, Mac, its just….well….I’ve never seen you look so beautiful,” I whisper, covering my distraction.
“And that bothers you?” she flirts with me through her lashes. She’s doing that a lot, I think I like it. In fact I’m sure I do.
“Very much,” I tell her honestly, “and while I still have enough blood in my brain to run my voluntary responses, perhaps we should go,” I answer suggestively, standing way too close to her for comfort.
The laugh she gives to this comment is deep and sultry. I know I’ve never heard her laugh like that before. ‘Okay Rabb, get her coat and get out the door, now.’ I instruct myself.
As if reading my mind, she picks up a stunning coat of soft, white wool, from the back of the same chair as last time. This one looks like new fallen snow and swings around her in a wide arc. It’s cold outside, but fortunately, the rain and snow have given us a respite. Her delicate shoes will suffer no damage on the dry ground. I just hope she can dance in those things. They’re sexy as hell, but they don’t look very substantial.
I forcibly bring my mind back to the issue of safe driving in DC’s evening traffic until we reach the restaurant and turn the car over to the valet attendant. His unabashed twenty-something appreciation for the beauty of the woman on my arm sends my testosterone level on another mission, and all my protective instincts begin to assert themselves.
Suddenly I feel the same way I did at the Christmas dance, and I know I’m going to have to control this response, or Mac and I will have a miserable evening. She’s changed enough over time to tolerate a small amount of possessiveness, in fact, I think she may even enjoy it a little, but if I become boorish, she will not hesitate to put me in my place. I really don’t think a Valentine dinner is the appropriate place to tempt a public dressing down from a Marine General.
Taking a deep breath, I escort her along the crimson carpet put in place for this evening. I’m familiar with ‘Trevor’s’, it’s owned by a retired flying buddy from years ago. While it’s a quietly elegant restaurant most of the time, and the food is always excellent, they don’t usually have valet parking, a red carpet, or a dance band. Those additions are especially for this evening alone.
There are tables for four towards the middle of the room and a few booths by the door, but the sides of the room are lined solely with tables and booths for two. Set at oblique angles among large plants, they give an aura of semi-privacy. We are shown to a booth along the wall, to one side of the dance floor. Secluded, still not isolated, it is located far from the kitchen door, or any other evidence of service areas.
For the remainder of the evening, the more mature staff reserves their appreciative glances for me. Not me personally of course, but envious looks to my good fortune in the company of this glorious woman. Our service is superb, although I’m not sure if it’s due to the fact that the owner Mike Trevor is my friend, or the woman who is my companion. I’m giving a little more weight to the latter argument, but it doesn’t really matter, she’s impressed and that works in my favor.
We order our drinks and a light appetizer while we wait for dinner. I have to tease her a little, “Mac I’m surprised you ordered fish. I thought you never ate anything that didn’t come with hooves.” Most of our meals together have been at the Crab Shack with a clearly limited menu, but I picked this one because it’s well known for its filets.
She smiles at my taunt and replies, “I didn’t Harm, not until I found out that it’s harder to move off my hips than it used to be. I still like my beef, just not as much of it any more.”
“Well if you want to change your order, I’ll be glad you keep you dancing until the wee hours,” I offer without realizing the full extent of possible interpretations.
“Hmmm,” she glances at me through her lashes. “I thought you promised not to do that,” she smiles expectantly.
“Mac! No, that’s not…” I find I’m blushing furiously.
Then she laughs that tinkling little laugh that’s so charming, and I realize I’ve been had. I walked right into it.
“Okay, Marine,” I warn her playfully. “You’ll get yours.” We sound like a very long time ago when our friendship was new.
“I’m looking forward to it, Harm,” she replies with a throaty growl that causes me to bless the long tablecloth over my lap. I know she won’t tease me like this in private yet, but the fact that she’s teasing at all solidifies my future expectations. Mac isn’t a mindless flirt. She’s telegraphing wishes and desires. I know she’s not quite ready to carry through, but at least the ideas are in her mind and acceptable. Fortunately, our dinner is served very soon, and we talk with less intimate allusions as we eat.
“I wanted to thank you for your help with Shannon,” I tell her partway through the dinner. “I was having trouble…well… telling her what she wanted to hear. I’m sorry Mac, I just couldn’t be objective.”
“I know, Harm. You and Clay had a long history. A lot of it was good, much of it was frustrating, but unfortunately, the last of it wasn’t very pleasant. He…well I guess he did some things that cost you a lot.” She isn’t exactly including herself in that assessment, but I’m sure she wonders if my feelings include her.
I cover her hand on the table and look into her eyes, “Yes, he did Mac, but some of it was my fault, too.” It’s all I can say.
She glances down, then away for a minute, before she returns her eyes to mine. “I’m just glad I could help you both. I could tell her the good things he did, and it seemed to help her, but I also told her some of the bad things about his job. She didn’t like hearing it, but I think she also understands how it wouldn’t have been possible for you to tell her.”
I just nod my head “I’m very grateful Mac, she means the world to me.”
“I know she does, Harm,” she agrees.
Further along with dinner, I take another chance. “Do you want to tell me about the issue with Meggie and the house? Maybe I can help” I offer.
“I don’t know, Harm. I don’t see how,” she hesitates.
“Try me. I don’t want to push, but I’m here for you. You know that,” I reassure her.
“I know,” she nods her head. “It’s just…just, I love that house, Harm, I always have,” she starts
“I know you do. I could tell. Now what can I do?” I try to keep this focused.
“Nothing. That is, I can’t think of anything. Meggie doesn’t see my concern, but the outer neighborhood isn’t the same as when we first moved there years ago. We have a little secluded patch of paradise, but very nearby within a few miles is an area that used to be fairly decent, now the residents are not so desirable. It’s a shame, but it doesn’t feel safe there for Meggie any more. At first I didn’t really….I didn’t think about it, but more recently…”
“What about an alarm system, Mac, I have a friend…” I offer.
“Another former pilot?” she asks smiling tolerantly.
“No. Former CIA,” I tell her. “He owns an alarm company. He could install alarms to ring at a switchboard that will alert the police.”
“I thought of that Harm, but the nearest substation is fifteen miles away through surface street traffic.” She shakes her head, “Response time would take too long. I have my service revolver, I’m not afraid for myself, but I keep having visions of Meggie…” she looks away quickly and I know she’s upset.
“Mac, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up. Please, I was just trying to find a way to help,” I apologize. God, the last thing I wanted to do was upset her, but if this is a serious as Shannon thinks, something must be done soon. Mac’s instincts have always been good. If she’s feeling uncomfortable, then she very likely has good reason. Even if she won’t share it.
“You had this all figured out didn’t you?” she asks, only half accusing.
“No, yes, not exactly. I had an idea, but I wasn’t sure. If there’s any way I can help,” I repeat, feeling helpless.
“Maybe you can. I haven’t discussed this completely with Meggie yet, but I’m thinking of getting an apartment, or maybe a townhouse. Someplace a little closer in, someplace in a safer neighborhood. Maybe I can ask you to help us move,” she speculates.
“Are you sure you want to do that, Mac? Sell your home?” I’m surprised she would consider it.
“I won’t sell it, Harm. I’ll keep it for one of the children, probably Eric, but in the meantime, I can lease it. We had a good leasing agent when we were in Europe, he found us good tenants. I’ll lease it until someone wants to live there again. Who knows, maybe they’ll bulldoze that area and build new homes there. My accountant tells me it’s just a matter of time, real estate values being what they are in the area. That section will be reclaimed eventually, just not soon enough.
“Okay, if you really want to move, just give me a date and I’ll be there,” I reassure her.
We continue to talk through dinner, sharing stories of our past, our families. She recounts the story of Meggie falling from a tree in deliberate disobedience of Victor’s warning. How the tough former Gunnery Sergeant, and veteran of many dangerous missions, had nearly fallen apart in the emergency room when his ‘baby girl’ was hurt. She even broke the same arm that Mac had broken on that last mission years ago. We laughed at the child’s stubbornness, and her refusal to complain about her cast, because every time she looked uncomfortable Victor had sternly reiterated that he’d told her not to climb the tree.
I tell her of the time we took six year old Andie for a family day on a docked carrier and she’d slipped away from me. I was nearly in a panic trying to find her. I doubted she could get hurt, but I just knew that Catherine would collapse in hysteria when she discovered our little girl was missing. She would be worried frantic that Andie had fallen overboard. However, my hard line CIA attorney took control of the situation, she was adamant in her insistence that the entire crew look for her, until Andie was located. She had even threatened to call in the Coast Guard. Finally spotted on the weather deck, Andie had somehow found her way to my favorite spot on the carrier, and told me when she was returned to us that she was imagining the planes being launched. She never did tell me how she managed to get up there. Maybe I should ask her again.
Somewhat hesitantly, Mac brought up the subject of Meggie’s question. I reassured her, “Mac, I promise, I wasn’t offended. I was taken aback by the question, but once I knew the source I wasn’t angry. She wasn’t trying to be personal, she was just so focused on her own issue she didn’t think about how it sounded,” I explain.
“Unlike my sons?” she asks.
“You heard about that?” I smile at the memory of their brave challenge. “They love you very much you know,” I tell her.
“I know,” she responds, “Still it wasn’t their place,” she adds with a small frown.
“On the contrary, given that Victor was their father I would have expected no less. Mac you didn’t…” I have flashes of a Marine Major in skivvies, dressing down a pair of sailors on a submarine.
“No, I thanked them for their concern, and assured them I was comfortable with your ‘intentions’,” she smiles. I think she read my mind because the slight blush to her cheeks gives her away. “You were thinking of the Watertown weren’t you Harm?”
“Yeah I was,” I smile, “It really was funny except to the poor sailors, Mac.”
“Well it was a good thing you ducked back into your berth when you did,” she gives me a look of mock ferocity.
“Hey I was afraid you we’re coming after me next,” I tell her wide eyed.
“Not exactly,” she grins, “You would have caught me almost losing it after I dismissed them. The look on your face Harm…” and she gives herself up to the laughter.
It may not seem like the kind of conversation for a romantic evening, but the love we had both felt for our families, and the memories of good times we shared, were beginning to spill over and blend into the growing feelings we now have for each other. The more we discover of the other’s life, the closer we moved towards each other. When the dance band played its first number, I couldn’t whisk her into my arms fast enough.
At the beginning of the evening, our dance held the formality of the Christmas ball. But as the night deepened, she moved slowly closer, and I held her tighter. Soon, her arms slid up around my neck, placing her full body in contact with mine, and eventually as the evening wound to a close, her cheek rested against my chest.
The steps of the dance gave way to a gentle, unstructured swaying motion. I had one arm firmly around her back the other on her waist. I held her close. Not in an overtly sexual sense, but more a deep, loving sensuality. Long ago, others had seen this between us, but for whatever reason we couldn’t find our way to it. Tonight, no one watching could fail to recognize our feelings. I think we are past making that mistake as well.
I was telegraphing to the entire world just how much I was in love with her, and I decided it was time to tell her, too. I think she’s felt it all along, I think she knows it, but it’s time for her to hear the words. I don’t know if I can expect her to voice her feelings in return, and I don’t intend to ask for that reassurance. This is a gift to her of my love, not an exchange. That will happen when the time is right.
It’s midnight, when the band plays the last number, and as it ends, we reluctantly release each other, forcing ourselves back to the reality of our world. I wonder how much of this magic we can hold onto in the coming months, and what path the growth of our feelings will take.
The night air is cold, and I make her wait inside the door as I hand my ticket to the attendant to retrieve my car. I rejoin her and place my arm affectionately around her shoulders as we wait. I’m thrilled to feel her relax against me slightly, just enough to know she welcomes the gesture.
I hand her into the car and proceed to my side, climbing in and quickly pulling away to clear the area for those in line behind us. I’m in no rush to complete the trip back to her place, and I take a chance, reaching out my hand palm up to see if she will accept it. She places her hand in mine and a spark runs through my nerve endings, powered by the touch of her soft fingers as I drive towards her home.
Continuing carefully through tonight’s heavy traffic, I find a series of side streets that takes us away from the worst of it. Reaching the bridge, I turn towards her home after crossing the river, and slowly, but steadily make my way to our destination. I’d give anything not to leave her tonight, but I can’t quite feel she’s comfortable yet with the idea of taking this further, despite the teasing. When we do, it has to be somewhere besides her home.
Nevertheless, after revealing her discomfort to me, I still don’t like the idea of her being alone here. When we reach the house, I follow her up onto the porch. She opens the door and turns. I have no doubt she’s expecting a good night kiss, and I fully intend to give her one, but not until I do a quick inspection tour.
“Let’s check the house, Mac,” I tell her.
“Harm? Why? I can….” she’s startled and a little uncertain what I mean.
“I want to make sure its safe before I leave. Please, Mac?” I ask.
She looks into my eyes and sees my concern and nods her head with less reluctance than I’d expected. Slipping from her coat, she drapes it across what I’ve come to think of as the ‘coat chair’. I leave my leather top coat in place. I don’t want the temptation of being too comfortable.
Together we make a quick tour, checking each room to insure there are no open windows or doors. We check her weapon, and I have her promise to sleep with it close. This is something I don’t need to tell her. She’s a Marine, as she takes great pains to remind me often, but it makes me feel better, and she lets me get away with it.
We walk back to the main hall, and I hear her soft voice beside me, “Thank you for your concern, Harm.”
“I don’t really feel comfortable leaving you, Mac,” I tell her honestly.
“You….that is….you could stay if you want,” she offers shyly, but there is still small barrier to her complete acceptance.
“No, Mac, not yet. We both know it’s not time.” I think if she suggests using one of the spare beds I would be tempted to accept, but she doesn’t.
“I’ll be okay. Honest,” she reassures me.
As I approach the door, she stops me with a hand on my arm. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Harm?”
“No,” I turn, and look into her deep brown eyes, “I just need to be near the door,” I smile. She understands my meaning.
I gather her gently into my arms, holding her gaze as I draw her near. “I‘d like to be close to you, Mac. I hope that can happen soon. But for now I will give you this,” I brush my lips over hers in a soft kiss. Just a brief dusting of a touch.
“And tell you I want you,” I kiss her again, tasting her lips, falling into the soft sensuous pressure of them.
“And I love you with all my heart,” I pull her closer still, kissing her deeply, taking the contained passion to the limits of restraint with as much desire as I can put into one kiss and still control it.
I don’t give her time to respond verbally, but her kisses tell me all I need to know.
There’s no force on earth that can make me ‘want’ to let her go, but there is just no way can I do this yet. In her presence I refuse to allow my mind to dwell on losing control with her, I have to wait for her. Her surrender, her agreement to what we are growing between us is almost complete, almost, but not quite.
Pulling away, I kiss her gently on the tip of her nose.
“G’night Mac,” I tell her. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
I move through the doorway, and as I pull the door shut, I remind her, “Lock it.” Then I give her my best smile when she gives me a tiny frown, and I add, “Love you.” The perfect end to this wonderful evening is her radiant smile.
Ducking out I blow her a kiss, and pull the heavy door tight in its frame. I know she hears me test the lock before I turn and make my way back to my car. I’m sure I’ll drive at least halfway back to Annapolis with my windows down. I need the cold air to clear my head.
End of twenty-seven ‘b’
Mobius Strip
0605 Thursday
The sound of the phone brings me straight up out of a deep sleep. My body and mind both tell me it’s too early. A wave of fear grips at my stomach. My immediate thought is ‘emergency’ followed closely by ‘Mac’. I knew I shouldn’t have left her. This all hits me in the half second it takes to grab the receiver.
“Rabb,” I bark, as a surge of adrenaline washes over me.
“Captain, I need you,” comes the calm, but troubled voice of my CO.
“Admiral. What? Sorry, I…. What can I do, sir?” I finally form a coherent thought, relieved that it isn’t Mac. Anything else I can handle.
“You okay, Rabb?” he questions with clear justification.
“Yes, sir. I’m fine. Bad dream,” I mumble. I’m already out of bed heading for the bathroom. “What is it, sir?”
“We had an attack on campus less than fifteen minutes ago,” he tells me. “I need you here. You’re the only officer I have that is experienced with a crime scene this serious, and NCIS won’t be here for almost an hour,” he explains. “What’s that noise?” he asks.
“Shower and electric razor,” I answer in verbal shorthand. “I’ll be there in ten, sir.”
“BDU’s Captain, we’re in lockdown until we have an answer,” he replies just as briefly.
“Yes, sir. I’m on my way.” I toss the razor back in the drawer, and the phone on the counter before jumping into a two-minute shower. I’m not going to have a lot of time to bemoan the fact that I’ve only had five hours sleep. My senses are on full alert and will remain that way for the duration of this emergency.
“I’m out the front door in five minutes, and the early morning drive takes me less than four. In nine and a half minutes I’m standing in front of my CO, Admiral George Tucker.
“Captain Rabb reporting as ordered, sir. What can I do?” I give him a salute, but he quickly motions me at ease, and I nod to the man standing near him.
“Admirable, Captain, hanging out with a Marine has been good for you,” his light comment refers to my quick arrival. A faint smirk crosses the other man’s face. I have to admire the low-key way my CO handles difficult situations.
“She taught me that trick years ago when we were partners, sir,” I respond automatically. I know we aren’t here to chat, but I sense he’s injecting a quick tension release. Everyone here has put in their time on active duty, but this sort of thing isn’t supposed to happen at the Academy.
“Here’s what we have,” he’s all business once again. “Female cadet was standing guard….”
“Female, sir?” I interrupt. I know I’m out of line, but…
“Sorry, Rabb, not your daughter, should have thought of that,” he apologizes quickly.
“No problem, sir, you have a lot to think about. I apologize for my reaction.” He nods his acceptance. “Fill him in, Pete, you have more information than I do,” he motions for the third man to continue the story.
“Cadet Jessica Lowell was standing guard duty at the front door of the Naval Museum. Her relief was just moments away when he heard a scuffle and then her screams. He ran to her, but the assailant was gone.”
We walk from the front gate with Lt. Colonel Pete Berrett, the Marine guard’s CO, as he explained the details of the situation. “She has something wrong with her arm, twisted badly, perhaps broken, and probably a concussion, or so they told me. She hit her head when she fell; her clothes are partially torn. It may have been an attempted sexual assault. We won’t really know until someone can talk to her. The Admiral has confined everyone to quarters until further notice,” he adds information I already have.
We pause crossing the small narrow street, as the gurney carrying a very young looking, and very hurt cadet, wheels past us towards the open door of a paramedic unit. As we watch them lift her onboard the Admiral addresses me. “I need the crime scene secured and anything else you think is necessary. The civilian vendors are screaming. Some want to be let in, other’s to be let out, but no one’s going anywhere unless I say so. And I’m not saying so, unless you say so, understood?”
“Yes, sir. Show me exactly where it happened, please.” He turns to Berrett and indicates for him to supply the information. We finish crossing to the sidewalk in front of the entrance where the attack took place. There was no expectation of a problem on this low risk security detail. The cadets are assigned guard duty for the purpose of training and discipline only.
As we step onto the sidewalk, I cautiously raise my hand indicating a need to stop here. Berrett looks at me, but complies, “She was found lying in the doorway,” he points to the steps. “We haven’t determined where her attacker went. There’s been no time to question our only witness,” he indicates the male cadet standing nearby, a dazed and miserable look on his face.
I nod drawing a mental perimeter around the scene. Indicating to Berrett, I suggest, “Post guards at the four corners of the building, at the front door, each side door, and the service entrance in the rear.”
“No one in or out until the investigators decide where the assailant came from, we want to insure no one sets foot within that area. Since no one should have been in the building, no one should be trying to leave, it’s just a precaution,” I explain. “Be sure your men stay on the sidewalk. The rest of the guards should be posted along the waterfront, and along the fence line to prevent anyone from climbing over,” I suggest.
“Already covered,” the Colonel responds a bit defensively. I’m probably stepping on his toes, but the Admiral asked me to secure things. I’d be remiss if I missed a suggestion by assuming what someone else has done.
“Good job, gentlemen,” the Admiral comments, his tone disarming. Nerves are already running high, turf wars will solve nothing.
“Thank you, sir,” we respond in unison, and Berrett leaves to order his men into place.
“We need a buffer around the entire area,” I explain for no reason except speaking somehow alleviates the dark fear enveloping me. “I know the emergency response team has been there, and the guard that found her, but everyone else needs to stay out. The fewer people on the scene, the less chance of tainting the evidence. Even stepping on the grass could obscure a vital footprint.”
He shakes his head noncommittally. I’m not sure whether in agreement because he knew this, or in frustration that this has occurred, but he appears satisfied with my decisions. The haunted look in his eyes telegraphs his deeper feelings.
“What about questioning our witness, or talking to the men and women in Bancroft?” he asks as though reading my mind.
It’s impossible to believe one of our cadets could be responsible for this reprehensible act, but that’s a value judgment based on desire, not hard evidence. We have approximately four thousand midshipmen currently confined to quarters in Bancroft Hall. It will take a long time to wade through all of them.
“That’s your call, sir. Generally, I recommend we refrain from interfering unless something vital falls in our lap. NCIS should be here in what, another half hour? I wouldn’t want to muddy their case with an inference that we put ideas into anyone’s head.” I point out. “No one is going to be horribly inconvenienced in a half hour.”
“Makes sense, Captain,” he picks up my meaning. “No point letting this slime-ball off the hook by our own actions.”
“Yes, sir,” I muse. “That young woman is our top priority now. If that was my child I’d expect us to do everything possible to secure the person who injured her. I would recommend sending the young man someplace quiet so he can write out a statement,” I suggest.
“Good idea,” he concurs and calls out. “Berrett. Have one of your men escort the cadet to your office. Rabb doesn’t recommend questioning him, but let’s get his statement on paper while it’s fresh in his mind.”
“Aye sir,” Berrett responds, not entirely pleased that I appear to be calling the shots. But the man is a professional, he quickly sends a corporal to escort the witness. If we were under direct attack I wouldn’t dream of interfering, but the man simply isn’t trained for a crime scene.
The ring of my CO’s phone interrupts my thoughts. “It’s the guard on the women’s quarters, Rabb,” he informs me, “says Cadet Lowell’s roommate has something to tell us. She says it’s important.”
“Can it wait for the investigators?” I suggest.
He replies into the phone, “Have her wait until the team from NCIS gets here,” then listens another minute.
“She insists she needs to tell us now. She keeps repeating he might get away,” he relays to me.
I raise my eyebrow in question, “Shall we hear what she has to say?”
“Let’s do it,” he decides, then orders into the phone. “Have her wait with you; we’ll be there in two minutes.”
As we approach the quarters, we spot the female cadet in uniform, waiting anxiously, but patiently for our arrival.
She snaps nervously to attention and we return her salute. The Admiral orders her at ease and nods for me to take over.
“You’re up early, Cadet,” I observe, wondering at her readiness. I don’t know this cadet, and I’m unwilling to believe she would use this opportunity to gain attention, but it’s always a possibility with any crime. I have to maintain a healthy suspicion.
“Cadet Sandra Miklin, sir. We all are, sir. The minute I heard of the attack I dressed, sir. I knew I had to tell someone quickly,” she answers with excessive formality and edgy determination
“I see. Tell someone what, Cadet?” I ask her. The Admiral again has me take the lead.
“Sir, I think I know who did it.” I look at my CO and he looks back. Whatever she has to say must be handled carefully. Although obviously uneasy, she stands firm.
“Fall in cadet we’ll take this somewhere private,” I instruct her, turning towards the Admiral’s office. We can’t risk runaway scuttlebutt, and if she has a reason for her statement she needs to be protected. Whoever did this must be considered dangerous.
“Yes, sir. I understand,” she doesn’t waver as she turns to follow me. I have to give her credit, she is serious about the validity of her information. She apparently doesn’t intend to be rattled.
Entering Tucker’s imposing office, he takes his place at the huge antique desk while offering the cadet a visitor’s chair. I stand beside the desk where I can see her face, but take signals from my CO. He nods for me to continue.
“Tell us in your own words what you know about this attack,” I instruct her a bit skeptically.
“Yes, sir. I think…that is….I have reason to believe it’s one of the gardeners, sir.” Her voice is shaky, but she doesn’t avoid my gaze.
“A gardener?” My eyebrows both shoot up. “What makes you believe that, Cadet?”
“Because last spring one of them started talking to Jessie, I mean, Cadet Lowell, sir,” she continues.
“Just talking?” Somehow this accusation isn’t impressive.
“Yes, sir, he would say ‘hi’ whenever we passed,” she’s picked up a hint of nervousness, as though realizing how flimsy this may sound.
“Hardly a reason for this accusation.” I’m about to end this interview.
“No, sir, there’s more,” she insists. “He went out of his way to talk to her, to ask her questions. He kept telling her how he was going to join the Navy when he graduated. I think he was trying to impress her or something, sir. We were usually hurrying from one class to the next, but she always stopped and gave him a smile and kind words.”
“He couldn’t have thought….” I start, but she interrupts me emotionally.
“Who knows what the creep thought.…uh….sir. Sorry, sir,” she finishes.
“Quite all right. You and Cadet Lowell were close?” I ask sympathetically.
“We’re best friends, sir, but Jessie is so sweet she didn’t have a mean, suspicious bone in her body.” The young woman is close to tears now.
“Did this gardener talk to anyone else?” I ask, maybe others noticed.
“In the beginning he sort of tried, but like I said we’re always in a hurry from one class to the next. Jessie is too friendly for her own good, sir,” she explains.
“Tell us what happened,” I ask more softly. I think I understand what she’s saying.
“Well, after a while, he started showing up wherever she was coming out of class or going in. As if he was watching and knew just where she would be,” the worried young woman went on.
“Did he ever bother her after class? In the evenings?” I ask.
“No, sir, as plebes we were confined to the school grounds, and had little free time anyway,” she reminds me.
“Of course, but that was last year. Why didn’t she report it then?” I wonder.
“She didn’t think he meant any harm. He seemed smart, well spoken, and I guess he was kinda cute, sir. I told her he might be dangerous, but she always laughed at my suspicions. She said I suspected everyone of something,” she finishes as though she’s questioning her own judgment now.
“Do you, Cadet?” I ask, letting her think about her conclusions for a minute.
“No, not really, sir. Well, maybe more than she did, but she was just so trusting, sir,” she reiterates. “I had to compensate, she needed someone to watch out for her. She comes from a small town where everyone knows everyone else.”
Obviously with more to say, the cadet looks out the window for a moment gathering her thoughts before she continues.
“I know….maybe…. it’s hard for a big strong man to understand how you get a feeling about someone who is creepy….uh….sir,” she blurts, her body language becomes agitated, her tone borders on desperation. Then she blushes when she realizes the personal reference in the comment.
My face registers surprise at the remark, but worse it raises the hackles on the back of my neck. I know exactly what she’s referring to. This case is testing the limits of my self-control, tearing my personal comfort level to shreds. Everything that happens, everything that’s said, hits a hot button with Mac’s past or present, and with Meggie’s safety. If we can’t protect our people on this closed campus, how in the world can they be safe where they’re living?
“I wish I could explain this feeling so you would understand?” she adds. “I think he was stalking her,” her voice is torn with emotion. Our cadets are physically fit, and trained in self-defense. However, there’s a different type of emotion associated with this sort of personal attack.
“I do, Cadet, believe me, I do understand” I tell her barely controlling the fear in my voice. She looks like she doesn’t quite believe me. “It happened to a friend of mine years ago. I remember how frightened we all were for her.”
“Is she….okay, sir? I mean…?” her voice is fearful for someone she’s never met. This compassion alleviates a lot of my concern for her motives.
“Yes, she’s fine. We found out who he was in time.” I don’t elaborate, but I recall every emotion that washed through Mac while that maniac was after her. I felt her fear as my own.
“That’s good,” she wipes a brief tear from her eye, and apologizes for what she obviously perceives as weakness. “….sorry. Jessie is so good and so smart. Will she be okay, sir?” She’s doing an admirable job of holding herself in check, but she’s young and this is a strain on her. She is demonstrating a remarkable fortitude in stating her conclusions for two formidable and apparently skeptical officers.
“We hope so,” I try to reassure her. “We’ll let you know as soon as we know anything. Maybe for now if we could return to what you were telling us,” I suggest. Outwardly, years of training keep my experience-tempered nerves under strict control, but inwardly I’m becoming more anxious by the moment as I channel my fear from this situation to my dear young friend, and the woman I’ve come to love again.
“Yes, sir,” she swallows her distress and continues her story. Her words bring me back from my thoughts. “We had a short break then summer classes started, I noticed him around, but he was usually busy. It didn’t stop him from following her with his eyes though. It made my skin crawl, sir. After the regular fall schedule resumed there was only a short time before the groundskeepers finished preparing everything for winter.”
“Then just a week ago, they returned to start landscaping for spring,” she explained. “That’s when he showed up again.”
“It was just creepy, sir. I’m sorry I keep saying that, but it’s the best word I can think of.” Her voice holds a plaintive sound of desperation.
“It’s okay, Cadet. I understand your feelings, and it’s a very telling and descriptive word, but for now it will help your friend more if you could concentrate on the facts for us,” I sooth her. She must remain focused. Runaway hysteria will be counterproductive; she is going to have to repeat this to NCIS soon.
“Yes, sir.” she swallowed heavily and continued. “In no time, he had her schedule figured out, and he was there whenever she came and went. Our classes are very different this semester so I didn’t see it until Tuesday. I asked her if he’d been bothering her again, and she admitted he’d been around a lot, so I told her she had to do something or I would. She promised me she would speak to someone, but she said she still didn’t believe he was dangerous. She didn’t want to cause trouble.”
I see the pattern she was referring to and I want her to quantify her assessment.
“You’ve used the term ‘creepy’, Cadet, but you also said he seemed ‘nice’. What is the basis for your judgment?” I ask her.
“I guess….I can’t explain it, sir. Maybe…gut feeling?” she looks up at me uncertainly. “Do you ever get the feeling that something or someone just isn’t what they seem, sir?” I recognize the look in her eye. It’s new, young, untrained and inexperienced, but I’ve seen it before in the best people I’ve ever worked with. I believe she may be developing that rare ability to strip away extraneous information from a situation, or person, divide the hard facts into categories, and make a base level judgment almost instantly.
“Yes, I do. If your feelings are accurate it can be a useful tool,” I allow.
“Well, that’s the only way I can explain it, sir. On the surface he just seemed like a nice, good looking, young man. You know, interested in what we were doing, but there was something in the back of his eyes. I can’t do better than that, sir, I’m sorry,” she looks from one of us to the other, miserably certain we are giving her story no credit.
“Cadet could you recognize this man if you saw him?” I ask.
Going with my own gut, I change the subject. I don’t want her to over-think this. She may have judged the situation wrong, but she’s certainly convinced of what she thinks she saw. It will do no harm to locate this young man and have him available for the investigators. Only time will tell if this prospective officer truly has a very valuable gift, or is just reactionary.
“Oh, yes, I mean, yes, sir. If you put him in with a hundred people, I could recognize him,” she states positively.
I glance at the Admiral. “Are the groundskeepers still on base, sir?” I ask.
“No one was supposed to leave, those were my orders. In fact, the young man who found Cadet Lowell had the presence of mind to alert the gate guards first. The base was locked down within minutes.”
“Then there’s a good chance he’s still on the grounds. NCIS is going to want to question him,” I offer unnecessarily. The two people listening are right with me.
The Admiral reaches for his phone. “Get me Colonel Berrett,” he ordered. Tapping his fingers on the desk, he waited for the connection. “Yes, Berrett,” he continued. “What have you done with the groundskeepers? Good….fine, I need you to check on them, and see if everyone is there. We’re looking for a young man; just a minute…..” he turned to the cadet. “What did he look like, Miklin?” he asked.
“I think about seventeen, sir. Tall, very thin, not tall like the Captain, more about your height, blonde curly hair, a little long in the back,” she indicates her neckline then continues. “Really dark eyes, sir, brown I guess, darker than I’ve ever seen on someone with blonde hair.” As she finishes, her mind visualizes the young man and a repressed shiver runs through her small frame.
“Did you hear that, Berrett? Late teens, about six feet, probably one forty or one fifty, blond hair, dark eyes. See if he’s with them. If not, find out where he is…..right….get back to me.”
Hanging up, he keyed the button for his yeoman “Bring us some coffee please, Yates.” Then he looked up, “Okay, if he’s there Berrett will find him, then we’ll go take a look. NCIS should be here soon. You know you’re going to have to go through this again with them, Miklin?”
“Yes, sir,” she jutted her chin a little. Her previous apprehension has disappeared now that something was being done to prevent his escape. She shows no fear of repeating her story.
We sipped our coffee and chatted about inconsequential things until the phone brought us back to the current issue.
“Send them in, and put him on,” the Admiral instructed his yeoman. Without delay the door opened and a senior NCIS agent walked in, followed by a second obviously junior agent.
At the same time, the Admiral addressed Berrett, “I see. Well it isn’t conclusive, but it’s a pretty good sign we’re on the right course. Organize a search. NCIS just arrived. I’ll let you know if there are further instructions. If he’s on the grounds I want him found ASAP,” hanging up the phone the Admiral looked up. “Gentlemen, welcome to Annapolis,” he greeted. “We have some interesting developments.”
“So it would seem, Admiral. Rabb,” he turns to me. “I thought you’d know better than to conduct an investigation,” he warns.
“Not the way it happened, Danny,” I address Special agent Danny Olguin. We worked together for about six years in California. Our styles are different, but our goals were always the same. He’s a man I can respect, and he’s dedicated to finding the truth, not just getting a conviction.
“The Cadet here,” I continue, “Cadet Sandra Miklin, called us about half an hour ago and said she had something to tell us. We listened and discovered she has a lead that could be our assailant. We’re looking for him now.”
“You know I’m going to have to question her, Rabb. You her lawyer?” he looks prepared to do battle. We’ve done so in the past.
“I don’t think she needs one, her story is pretty straightforward. But if she wants someone there, I’ll be happy to assist,” I look at the Cadet questioning her wishes.
“No. No, sir. I’ll be fine. I’m sure you have more important things to do. I know what I have to say, it’s the same thing I told you.” She stands and faces the men with quiet determination.
“Good,” I nod, then look at my CO for approval.
“Sounds good,” he agrees. “Where do you want to start? You want to join the search, or would you rather hear the Cadet’s story first?”
“I think we’d like to talk to the Cadet. If anyone but Rabb were handling this I’d say hold off, but I’ve worked with him,” he nods to me. “We’ve never had a problem, Admiral.”
“Fine,” Admiral Tucker looks pleased at this apparent sign of co-operation. “The guard’s are organizing a building-by-building search. It’s going to take a while, but if he’s still on the grounds we’ll find him,” my CO promises.
“Is there a spare office I can use?” Danny asks.
“You can use mine,” I offer. “I’m sure the Admiral has further instructions for me,” I look to him for my orders.
“Show them your office, Rabb, then come back here,” he concurs.
I follow his orders and return in less than five minutes. “We can’t release the middies from quarters yet, but now for a different reason,” he informs me. “I just received a call from the hospital. Cadet Lowell will recover, but her clothing was cut, not torn. We have to assume this man is armed and dangerous, no telling what he’ll do to escape. It could precipitate a hostage situation. The likelihood is small, but it’s possible, and I can’t take the chance with their safety.”
“I agree, sir, what do you suggest?”
“Inform them what’s happened and initiate a buddy system. It’s time for breakfast. The dining hall is waiting. They can go to chow in groups of four, then back to the dorm until we give the all clear,” he tells me.
“They’re going to want to help, sir,” I tell him, knowing how my classmates and I would have reacted to an occurrence like this.
“I know, they’re good people, but frankly I can’t arm the entire Academy, very few of them are firearms certified,” he explains.
“Understood, sir.” The lockdown has been a double-edged precaution, first to isolate the perpetrator, and now to protect the rest of our people.
“Good, go get our kids fed, then we’ll see where we are. I’ll stay here and keep in contact with security and NCIS. Report back after breakfast, if we find him before then I’ll send for you,” he gives his orders.
“Yes, sir,” I reply, turning smartly to follow my CO’s commands.
I have to call Mac soon. Maybe while the middies are eating. This situation has my insides boiling. I won’t be able to eat breakfast anyway. I know in my head she’s alright, but I have to hear her voice.
End part twenty-eight
Mobius Strip
1120 Thursday
“Mac. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner. We had a little problem here.” I’d tried to call while the cadets were at breakfast, but I kept getting her machine. You can’t say ‘I love you’ to a General on her business phone, so I didn’t leave a message. Besides, I needed to hear her voice, just to know she’s safe. An irrational reaction I know, but I wasn’t feeling especially balanced at the moment.
“Is everything okay, Harm? Are you okay?” she sounds concerned, but unusually cheerful too.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Look, I’ll tell you about it later. I just wanted to call and tell you I was thinking about you.” Although this call should be to remind us of the tender moments we shared last night, I find my motives are wrapped tightly around my concern for her safety. Now more than ever, I want to repeat my love to her, but at this moment I’m too tied in knots.
“That’s nice, Harm” she responds. For a brief moment I’m almost happy she doesn’t hear the strain in my voice. “I’ve been thinking about you too. I have some good news. Remember what we talked about last night? The house I mean.”
How could I forget? It’s been the central theme of my morning as we dealt with finding the assailant of our cadet. “Yes, I remember. Have you found a place?” I ask hopefully.
“No, that’s just it, Harm. We don’t have to move, at least not right now. I found someone to stay with us,” this is so un-Mac-like. Confusion dithers me; I don’t see her point.
“Mac, how will that help? You’ll just have two people to protect,” I remark in exasperation.
“No, Harm it’s someone we can call if we need help. He needs a place to stay while he attends class at a software company here in Falls Church…..”
“He? Good Lord, Mac, you can’t be serious,” I explode. I know my lack of sleep and the morning’s stress are causing this reaction, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “You can’t possibly be thinking of taking a stranger into your home.”
“Harm, it’s not like that…” she begins, but I’m not listening.
“You’re a General, Mac, and the JAG. Generals don’t take in borders. How in the hell will that make you and Meggie safer?” There is no conscious thought behind what I’m saying, it’s purely an adrenaline reaction. The reasonable part of my brain is tugging at my mouth, but it’s not making any headway. I could cite exhaustion and extreme anxiety, but that doesn’t excuse the way I’m talking to her. Thoroughly agitated, I plow ahead. “What could you possibly be thinking?” my mouth finishes without permission from my heart.
“I guess I don’t need to explain what I’m thinking,” she replies coldly. “It seems you’ve already formed an opinion. You apparently have no faith in my judgment, or my concern for Meggie. Since you don’t trust my ability to make this decision, I doubt we have anything else to discuss. Good bye, Captain,” she hangs up the phone. Her tone is achingly final, as she silently added, ‘I don’t need this from you’.
God! Dear God! A cold chill runs through me as my heart and mind finally gain the upper hand over my reactions. What the hell did I just do? Only about the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. It takes me only fractions of a second to assess the massive damage I just caused.
Quickly, I redial her number, but it goes to voicemail. I wait for her to answer. “Mac, pickup,” I literally beg. “Please, pickup. Mac, please listen….” but all I hear is the tone indicating my message has timed out.
Standing under a large tree next to the Gazebo, I look across the street towards the chapel where I’d planned to make my dreams come true. The same dreams I’ve just shattered with this foolish outburst. Will I ever learn to just keep my mouth shut and think before I speak?
Standing stunned, I vacantly stare into space. My open phone is still in my hand when the Admiral walks up, “What’s the matter, Rabb? You look like you just lost your best friend. Are you okay?” He’s in a better mood now that the case is solved and no one belonging to the Navy was involved.
“No, sir, I don’t think I am. I may have…” I reply absently.
“May have what?” his tolerance level is a little higher than normal.
“Lost my best friend, sir. Sorry this doesn’t make much sense. It’s…uh…personal. I just said something really stupid, and ….well…..if the Admiral could excuse me for a few hours,” I turn to look at him. I know my eyes are pleading my case.
“Really put your foot in it, huh, Rabb?” he asks sympathetically.
“Yes, sir,” I swallow hard. “The worst I’ve ever, sir,” I admit.
“This morning’s incident had some special significance for you, am I right, Captain?” he cuts to the heart of the matter.
“Yes, sir, in a way,” I reply, my misery building.
“Take the afternoon,” he nods understanding. “Go fix it, son,” he tells me.
“Thank you, sir.” I start to turn away.
“Oh, and Rabb, good work this morning,” he adds.
“Thank you, sir,” I answer disconsolately. If I can’t fix this with Mac, I doubt I’ll take much pleasure in anything. Once again an over-reaction has caused me to go off half cocked. I know I was obsessing, but at least I recognize what I’ve done. I just hope I can find a way to make her understand and forgive me. Remembering the stress of this morning’s events doesn’t alleviate the pain I’ve just caused for both of us.
As I’d predicted, our students wanted to join the search, but the Admiral’s caution that the best thing they could do was watch each other’s back gave them a small sense of purpose. None of them underestimated the possible danger, but none responded excessively either.
The gate guard verified that the landscaper’s permit had been for six people and six had come on the truck. On questioning, he recalled checking all six ID’s, and remembered the teenager as described.
An older brother owned the gardening service, and soon found his passes, permits, and contract suspended pending investigation. The fact that he’d covered his younger sibling’s behavior, telling Berrett he’d stayed at home with a cold, didn’t make anyone believe he would see his privileges returned. Since the kid had a juvenile record, NCIS will investigate the screening procedures for these work permits.
Apparently, the brother’s intention was to show the kid there was something to work for, however, the young man with his own warped sense of the universe, saw it as showing him something he was unworthy of attaining.
It took several hours to locate the alleged assailant, hiding in the basement of the Museum. Working in his lab through the night on a new set of exhibits, the curator had forgotten to lock the front door. They weren’t able to search the building until the crime scene crew finished gathering evidence, so it was the last place anyone looked. We’d nearly given up hope, concerned he’d somehow escaped in the initial confusion.
He came out of hiding belligerent and combative, but his false courage soon wavered in the face of a fully armed Marine. He gave every unacceptable excuse ever heard for his actions, and in the process admitted his guilt loudly in front of numerous witnesses. The weird thing was he didn’t resent the cadets who ignored him. With his low self-esteem, he expected it. But when Cadet Jessica Lowell was continually kind to him, he saw it as patronizing. He followed her, repeatedly making contact, assured in his own mind she would eventually turn on him. When she didn’t, it angered him beyond control.
Mulling these events as I drive towards DC, gives new information to my logic-starved brain on why I reacted to Mac the way I did. I have no idea what she has in mind, but I should have had enough faith in her instincts to realize she wouldn’t trust a stranger unless he came well recommended.
What makes the most sense now that my adrenalin level has receded is that it’s probably someone in the military. Someone closely connected to her or someone on her staff. She wouldn’t have found an outsider this fast, and she certainly wouldn’t have been able to do a background check on a civilian in the few hours since she got to her office.
I owe her a major apology; I just hope she’ll let me see her when I get there. At least going to her office allows her to turn me away from her position of safety. If she really wants me to stay away going to her home would only make her feel more threatened than she does now. I don’t want to add to her worries. I already promised myself I wouldn’t be one of the wild dogs in her life.
It feels odd, driving back into the JAG parking lot after all these years. Not much has changed. Some of the landscaping is different, probably due to storm damage or natural attrition, but mostly it looks just like the day I left nearly twenty years ago.
After securing a pass from the guard on duty I check the directory. Smiling, I recognize her office is in exactly the same location as the previous JAGs I’ve worked for. Briefly, I wonder what individual artifacts she will have used to personalize it. Does she still study paleontology in her spare time? There’s still so much about her I haven’t relearned.
The only person I see as I enter the bullpen is a young blond Lieutenant. The room has changed some. Things have been rearranged and the furniture is newer, but the walls are still lined with bound volumes of the law. Although everything is now available online, there seems to be a tendency in law offices everywhere to keep the bound volumes on hand. Whether for atmosphere, comfort, or convenience I don’t know, perhaps it’s a combination of all three.
“Can I help you, Captain?” the young woman looks at me somewhat puzzled. I suppose a Navy captain in field dress, looking rather desperate isn’t a common sight.
“I’d like to see the General, if I may please,” I tell her, pulling myself up to my full height. I use a tone that projects a command presence, making it sound like an order. Maybe I can bluff my way in.
“I…I’ll see if she’s available. May I tell her what it’s regarding?” she tilts her head back and looks up at me. Her eyes are the deepest most intense blue I’ve ever seen, and the top of her curly blond head would fit comfortably under my armpit, but she doesn’t seem the least bit intimidated.
I’m having trouble pulling this off. I’m much too anxious that Mac may not allow me to see her. “It’s personal Lieutenant. Please tell her Captain Rabb would appreciate the opportunity to talk to her,” I answer in a more subdued tone.
“I see,” she looks at me speculatively, “So you’re the one---sir.” she adds with less respect than she should.
“The one, Lieutenant?” I inquire, my brows meeting my hairline. I don’t like the sound of this.
“Yes, sir,” she answers brusquely. “The reason my fiancé can’t use the General’s guest house. The reason she’s so upset,” she adds protectively.
“Your fiancé. Guest house?” I parrot dumbly.
“Yes, sir,” she’s on solid ground now, since I didn’t challenge her. “Major Cary Howell. Sir.” she adds the ‘sir,’ again sounding like she’d prefer not to use the respectful term. “He’s returning from overseas duty. He’s been ordered to attend classes at a software company that builds the program currently used in combat. His new assignment as instructor requires him to learn all the upgrades. But he needs a place to stay, and he doesn’t care for hotels. Of course, he can spend the government’s money if he has to,” she adds, as though I’m the lowest form of traitor for blocking this economy.
I’m more amused than angered by her attitude. She strikes me very much like another blond lieutenant I used to work with. She has something to say, and she’s by God going to say it. She takes every opening I give her, and invents a few of her own.
“I see,” I turn this information over in my mind. “So your fiancé was in combat?” I inquire getting to the center of the information.
“Yes, sir, he spent ten years with Force Recon. Now he’s going to be training the troops,” she tells me proudly. Looking a bit defiant, she adds gratuitously, “We don’t believe in living together before we’re married, but he wanted something more comfortable than a nasty old hotel room.”
I have the picture now, and I smile at her. Laying on the Rabb charm, I respond, “I’ll tell you what, Lieutenant. Why don’t you see if the General will talk to me, and I’ll try very hard to fix this. Okay?”
“Do you mean it, sir?” she looks uncertain, but her tone has changed considerably. She’s obviously torn between her loyalty to Mac and her desire for her fiancé’s comfort. I think it occurs to her quickly the two aren’t mutually exclusive.
“I mean it,” I promise, hoping I can work this miracle. “I was a little stressed this morning. I think….maybe….our conversation didn’t go well,” I admit. “But you’re obviously at least aware of the outcome. Why don’t you see if you can arrange for me to change it,” I coax.
She looks at me hard again, then folds; I guess the smile still works. “I’ll see what I can do, Captain,” she tells me.
“I’ll wait here,” I agree. I can’t push my way in; all I can do is hope.
Knocking on Mac’s door, she opens it halfway, and addresses her. “Ma’am, there’s someone here to see you.”
“Who is it Macklye? I’m busy right now,” I hear Mac’s voice through the opening. She’s clearly upset, but I suspect she knows it’s me.
“It’s a Captain Rabb, ma’am, he says it’s very important.” There’s a long silence, almost too long. I begin to think she’s going to turn me away, then I hear her voice on a heavy sigh, “Send him in,” she tells her officer. “But, Macklye, leave the door open.”
“Yes, ma’am,” she responds and turns to me. “You may go in, Captain,” she informs me unnecessarily.
“Thank you,” I answer softly as I pass her, leaving the door ajar as requested.
“Mac?” I venture, when she doesn’t look up.
“What is it, Captain, I’m busy.” Her tone is brusque and unwelcoming.
“Do you want me to stand on protocol, General?” I ask striding to her desk and coming to attention.
“Don’t be silly, Harm,” she deflates, tossing her pen on the desk. Her anger is gone, replaced by a look of sadness as her eyes meet mine. “What do you want?”
“Mac, please, just listen,” is my request.
“Haven’t I heard enough of what you have to say?” she responds bitterly.
“Oh God, Mac, I’m so sorry,” I walk slowly around her desk, gently turn her chair to face me, and kneel down in front of her, taking her hands in mine. My familiarity is pushing the envelope, but I’m silently praying she’ll allow it. “I’m sorry, very sorry. I shouldn’t have doubted you. And I should never have spoken to you that way. Not as a fellow officer, and never as a friend, particularly not as a friend who wants to be so much more. Please believe I’m sorry, I was just so damn afraid. This morning….something happened….there’s a reason, but no excuse. You’re a Marine, Mac, and I keep forgetting that.” My eyes plead for her forgiveness and understanding.
A tiny smile tugs at one corner of her mouth. “I know Navy, you always had trouble with that, didn’t you?” she responds.
“Yeah, I guess I did, but I can’t make it up to you if you don’t forgive me.” I try to capture her eyes, but they slide away.
“I’ve already told Barbara no,” she informs me.
“Barbara?”
“My Lieutenant. Barbara Macklye,” she nods towards the outer office.
“Then call her in and tell her yes. Mac, please, I know it was a good plan, I just wasn’t listening. I was being stupid and reactive. I was just so damned afraid,” I repeat.
“Why Harm? What made you suddenly react like that?” she at least knows me well enough to realize I had some reason, even if it wasn’t a good one.
“It doesn’t matter really, what matters is your safety and Meggie’s,” I explain.
“Harm, tell me,” she urges. “Is there something I should know?”
“About your situation and solution? I doubt it. I know you made the best decision for you and Meggie. I didn’t know you had a guest house.” I try to change the subject.
“It’s over the garage,” she tosses casually, then closes back on target. “Why Harm, what happened, and for that matter why are you dressed like that. Why aren’t you in class?”
“Long story, Mac. You are more important. We are more important. That is if we still have us,” I ask.
She looks into my eyes for a long moment. “Will you ever trust me, Harm?” she wants to know.
“Aw Mac. I do trust you. It’s just sometimes I react to things without thinking. I am sorry. Please help me get this right,” I ask sheepishly. “You know how my mouth takes over without using my brain for backup.” I squeeze the hands that I notice she left tucked in mine, and give her a small smile.
She squeezes back and shakes her head. “You jet jockeys. Always wanting to lay down a bombing run, then ask questions later,” but she’s smiling when she says this.
“Thanks, Mac,” I accept this for a start on forgiveness, and rise to my feet pulling her with me. My arms go around her in a completely unacceptable display of affection, and I hear the soft sound of the latch as her door closes behind me. Holding her close for several minutes longer I try to gain control over my nerves, but I can feel myself trembling in relief deep inside.
“Harm, I think you need to tell me what’s wrong,” she sounds more worried than I want her to be.
“Can we have dinner this evening?” I ask.
“If you promise not to keep me out past my bedtime. I’m getting too old for midnight dates midweek,” she teases a little.
The morning’s activities and lack of sleep are taking a toll on me as well, and I amend my invitation. “How about lunch then? If I know you, you haven’t eaten. You never do when you’re upset.”
“Only if you promise to tell me what’s been going on, Flyboy,” she uses the old term of endearment.
“I promise,” I reply, as I release my hold on her, stepping back so she can pass by me. Leaving her office, we have to observe strict military protocol as we’re both in uniform, but at least we’re back on track.
She stops by Macklye’s office to inform her that the arrangement is back in place. The young Lieutenant looks over Mac’s shoulder at me, and smiles. I answer her smile. I have to wonder as I escort Mac to my car, how many more fool moves I’ll make before I get this right. At least she seems to be willing to forgive me so far, but I need to find a way to stop. I can’t lose her, not this time.
I drive her to her favorite hamburger place. At least their menu is good quality, and they offer chicken sandwiches and salad as well as burgers. She cocks an eyebrow at the obvious attempt at a peace offering, but accepts graciously. After we have our food and drinks, we find a small table amidst music memorabilia fastened to the walls, and I recount the morning’s events.
“I can understand how stressful and upsetting this must have been, Harm. I’m so glad the cadet will be alright, but I don’t see how….” She doesn’t actually berate me, but the question hangs in the air.
“Don’t you see, Mac?” I tell her in carefully veiled exasperation. “If we can’t provide security on a closed base, how can you and Meggie be safe where you are? It was all I could think of all morning. My first thought on waking was your safety. When I found it wasn’t directly related to you that rush stayed with me all day, building as we worked through the investigation. Everything I encountered reminded me of your situation, of past situations. What if Meggie inadvertently offended some nut case?” I ask rhetorically, my voice harsh with concern.
“I see what you mean, Harm,” she muses thoughtfully. “And the insincere stranger in your case transferred to the helpful stranger in mine,” she accepts this with unexpected understanding.
“Precisely. I wasn’t prepared to think reasonably at that point. It doesn’t excuse me, nothing excuses me, but my protective instincts went into overdrive,” I explain.
She nods, processing this information.
“I know that Victor, being a Marine like you, well….he probably…” she doesn’t let me finish.
“No Harm you’re wrong, actually he was worse sometimes. He did accept our mutual training….that I knew the right way to handle things, but that didn’t sooth his protective instincts. In fact if anything it exacerbated them. He’d been under fire with me too many times. He knew what chances I would take and it made him crazy. We just usually lived on a base, which gave the appearance of more security until we moved back to DC. I guess….well the neighborhood was very nice then, and we did have a dog. I don’t know it’s only the last year or so….and since the boys are gone now too…” she trails off.
“Will you think about the alarm system? Even if it doesn’t bring the police right away, it will alert you and Howell,” I plead my case.
“I’ll think about it, Harm. It can’t hurt,” she acquiesces as we finish lunch and head back to her office.
“Mac, I need to ask you something,” I venture, as I leave her off.
“What is it?” she looks concerned by my tone.
“I want to stay with you tonight,” I blurt then hurry on before she can protest. “I’ll go back and get my clothes. In the morning I’ll leave for work early enough to get to the Academy for class, but I’ll feel better until your guest arrives.”
“You want to stay until Monday, Harm?” she asks begging the real question in her mind.
“Yes, if you’ll let me.” I think if she says no I’ll sleep outside in my car.
“Okay,” she agrees slowly. I know what concerns her.
“Not with you, Mac, not that way,” I hasten to reassure her. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t want to, but this isn’t the right reason to go there,” I add stumbling on the delicate subject. “But you have the boys’ room. I can stay there. Please, I won’t sleep until I know you have more protection close by,” I entreat.
“All right, Harm. I don’t think the threat is immediate though, it was just a vague feeling of unease,” she tries to minimize the concern.
“I disagree. I think it may be more immediate than you realize, Mac. You’ve never had these feelings unless something had happened or was about to very soon. Call it a preemptive strike,” I smile.
She looks at me for a minute, but I continue with my winning smile, hoping with all my heart I can convince her to allow this. It will be a killer drive tomorrow, but I don’t care what it takes. Less sleep and a long drive is infinitely better than no sleep at all.
“Okay, Harm. I’ll make up one of the boys’ beds when I get home. When will you be back?” She relents.
“Probably be sitting on your porch when you get home,” I tell her with a thousand megawatt smile.
“I doubt it. Meggie should be home before you can drive to Annapolis for your clothes and get back here. I have no doubt she’ll let you in,” she grins. “In fact, I suspect she’ll be thrilled to have you there. She’s very fond of you.”
“And I’m very fond of her too, Mac. And I’m absolutely crazy about her mother,” I tell her, pitching my voice to see the small shiver that runs through her. I only wish at this particular moment we weren’t sitting in the JAG parking lot in uniform. I’ll save that for later. What I wouldn’t give to hold her just one more moment.
I love the fact that I can make that little flush appear on her cheeks.
“I have another idea too, Mac, but let me check on it first,” I tell her cryptically as I offer my hand to help her from the car in front of HQ. “I’ll see you tonight, General,” I tell her formally, only my eyes telling her anything more personal.
“Tonight,” she agrees with the same return look, and turns to enter the building.
I may make it to Annapolis for my clothes and back, but I doubt I’ll be up very late tonight. Fortunately, I can rest well and still sleep fairly lightly if I have to, at least for a few days. Once I have her safety assured, I can get a good, deep sleep again.
End of twenty-nine
Mobius Strip
Friday 0630
There are times when the satisfaction of being right is superceded by the desire to be wrong. This was one of them.
It was about quarter to three this morning when I heard it. The slow crunch of tires on the gravel as the small low-slung black sedan made its way up the driveway. I’m not certain if I was awakened by the sound, or if I was already awake. I picked up my service revolver and stood beside the window careful not to make a shadow as I watched to see what they would do.
They were almost to the house when they saw the strange vehicle. The reaction was immediate; they slammed the car into reverse, and backed up the driveway at the bare edge of control. The fact they recognized that my car didn’t belong here made me even more uncomfortable. It told me they had been watching the house and were familiar with the occupants and their vehicle. They had picked tonight to return. I don’t even want to think about the outcome if I hadn’t been here.
One of two things would happen next, either they would stay away for a time, checking periodically to see if the car was permanent, or they would return soon with reinforcements. The second seemed less likely because whatever their motives were, robbery was probably among them. It was unlikely the fence-able possessions in this household would be worth splitting too many ways. My guess was their additional objective very likely included a personal assault. They counted on finding two unprotected females. I doubt they’ve gone away for good, but at least we may have bought ourselves some time.
Mac had heard my entire tale of the events at the Academy over lunch yesterday, and understood my reason for concern, even though I doubt she saw it as immediately necessary. At that point, I think she may have been humoring me.
Meggie was indeed home when I returned to Mac’s house, and while we made up my bed and started dinner, she invested the better part of the afternoon trying to find out why I was staying there. She wasn’t buying my explanation of wanting to spend some time with them. I was torn between the prevarication, and not telling her anything Mac didn’t want her to hear. We hadn’t discussed how to handle Meggie on this subject, it was so spur of the moment.
Eventually she was offered an extremely abridged version at dinner, just enough to give her a healthy sense of caution. She knew we were sandbagging her, but for the moment, she didn’t argue. I think she may have read more between the lines than we gave her credit for. There’s little doubt she knew something was bothering Mac after the Valentines day issue. She’s a very bright young lady.
Fortunately, I’d excused myself and retired soon after dinner. The long emotional day had taken its toll. If anything happened I wanted to have a few hours sleep behind me. I’d forgotten to grab the book I was reading at home, but at that point, I was too tired to read anyway. By the time the visitation occurred I’d already had about six hours sleep. I napped lightly for the rest of the night fairly certain they wouldn’t return immediately.
Hesitant initially to tell Mac about the nighttime visitors, I finally decide it will be neither fair nor safe to keep it from her. I’m learning she isn’t the type of woman who has to be sheltered from unpleasant information. I guess it’s about time I figured this out.
After a shower and shave, I dress for work and wander to the kitchen for coffee. Mac had apparently set the timer so it would be freshly brewed about the time I was ready. I root in her refrigerator and discover a package of bagels and some orange juice. As my bagel pops from the toaster and the coffee maker gurgles to a finish, I hear movement behind me and turn a little more quickly than necessary for the environment.
“What’s wrong Harm?” she asks immediately. She looks delectably feminine, almost vulnerable, in her fuzzy robe and slippers. For a tiny second my protective instincts override any other consideration.
“Nothing,” I swallow hard, knowing I need to tell her. “I just have a long drive,” I kiss her quickly on the forehead.
“Don’t, Harm,” she slips into my arms and looks up at me. “Tell me.”
I nod. “I have to, I’m sorry, I wish I didn’t,” I tell her cryptically, hugging her close.
“Go on,” she encourages, looking a little worried now.
“We had visitors last night,” I inform her.
“When?” she stiffens.
“Close to 0300. A car came down the driveway. They spotted my SUV and took off, but I have no doubt they’ll be back,” I add the warning. I have no desire to add fear to her existence, but we’ve already established she’s a Marine, and this is the enemy. She needs this input.
She leans her forehead against my chest. “I guess I was wrong. I shouldn’t have slept through that. Thank you for being here,” her voice is muffled in my shirt.
“Believe me Mac, I wish I’d been wrong,” my sentiments are heartfelt. I hold her tightly for a brief moment more. The last thing I want is for her to feel unsafe in her own home. I intend to find every way to return her feelings of security.
“I know,” she acknowledges. “Now what?” she pulls away slowly and starts buttering my bagel. Funny how comfortable she seems doing this.
“Mac, you don’t have to….” I protest.
“You’ve pointed out rather sharply on occasion that I’m a Marine General and the JAG. Surely you believe by now that I know what I have to do,” she smiles sideways at me to soften this comment, and hands me my breakfast. “I did it because I wanted to, Harm,” she adds gently before asking again, “Tell me, what do you suggest we do now?”
“Now you’re going to let me call my friend and have that alarm system installed,” I state trying to sound like I’ll accept no argument. If she refuses, I will argue with her, but ultimately it’s her house.
“I suppose it’s okay, but I don’t see what good it will do,” she sighs and counters weakly.
“Warning, Mac. If nothing else it will give you time to respond. I’ll have it rigged to alert both the main house and the guest house,” I explain, allowing for her volunteer guard.
“Fine,” she nods. “Just let me know how much….”
“My treat, Mac,” I smile. “Really, he owes me a favor,” I insist, as she takes a deep breath to protest. “I got him a nice fat contract a while back by putting him in touch with the right people at the right time. I don’t need a system where I live, and Shannon lives in Webb’s old place. It’s probably still hooked into the CIA.” If I know Porter, this isn’t a likely exaggeration.
“I thought you said he was former Agency, he’d have his own contacts,” she argues, still unconvinced.
“Not all of them, and not this one,” I tell her cryptically. “Listen, how do you feel about dogs? I mean, I know you used to like them, didn’t you?” I change the subject.
“Dogs? Why? I mean, yes, I still like dogs. We had one until recently, he was just like Jingo, but a puppy isn’t going to be much good. Where are you going to get a dog?” she asks with wary curiosity.
“Leave it to me. I need to call someone,” I don’t want to tip my hand just yet, but a dog like Jingo won’t do it this time. “I just wanted to know if you liked the idea. If it works out I’ll tell you all about it at dinner,” I promise, as I finish my bagel and pour another cup of coffee to take with me.
“Gotta run now or I’ll get stuck in that God-awful beltway traffic,” I tell her.
Leaning down I take a quick kiss. Thinking better of it, I put down my coffee cup and pull her into my arms to do it right. Surprising myself, I find it takes all my willpower to release her from my embrace. “Love you,” I tell her, then, “God, Mac, I love you so much, and I’m going to keep you safe.”
She nods, bemused by the force of my declaration, and smiles up at me.
I’m beginning to think more than the events of yesterday are messing with me. Something is sticking in the back of my mind, perhaps my inability to protect Catherine still haunts me. I know this response is more than just a reference to Mac’s long ago stalker, or even last night’s prowlers. Whatever caused the reaction, I’m very glad I followed my instincts.
As I turn toward the front hall, I see a sleepy, but beaming, Meggie standing near the kitchen entrance. Her outfit mimics Mac’s: flannel pj’s, fuzzy robe, and slippers. Only in her case, it makes her look endearingly innocent.
“Have a good day, Captain,” she smiles at me with that sort of smug grin teenagers get on their face when they’re proven right.
“I think, Meggie, that by now you can call me Harm,” I raise an eyebrow towards Mac, and Meggie looks at her for approval.
Mac is blushing slightly, possibly a little uncomfortable that we were caught by her daughter.
“It would seem a little silly to stand on formality any more,” she admits. Then smiles at me, telling me her discomfort was only momentary.
I give Meggie a brief hug, flash a goodbye smile at Mac, and head out the door. Before I hit the beltway, I have my old CIA buddy on the phone arranging a lunch date to discuss Mac’s new alarm system. He promises that whatever I want will be in place by tomorrow afternoon. I rarely call in my markers on old debts, knowing I’ve helped someone is usually reward in itself. But in this case, to protect Mac and Meggie, I’d collect on every favor I’ve ever done.
I decide not to call Shannon until I get to Annapolis. Even this early, the traffic is getting nasty. She mentioned a while back that an arm of the lobby group she volunteers for is deeply involved in the rehabilitation of military working dogs. I wonder if she knows who I can contact and how it works.
16:10
Lunch with my friend proved informative and very productive. He suggested a perimeter alarm that will sound if any doors or windows are breached. It will alert his monitors to call the police under certain predetermined circumstances. He also will set up an alarm to sound a low-level tone in the bedrooms and guesthouse for night monitoring, to warn if anyone crosses a beam in the driveway. In newer installations, the lines supplying power and connection are buried, but Macs house is very old, it will take weeks to install that way. Instead, a feedback alarm is supplied to alert the occupants as well as the main office if the lines are damaged for any reason.
Knowing Mac, she will be fully prepared to act with proper warning. She won’t rely on the local police force to rescue her. And despite my unreasonable reaction yesterday, having another Marine nearby will also set both our minds at ease.
Now when Shannon returns my call, I can figure out the next step in this project. It occurs to me that if this all works, Mac will be so secure she may decide to stay in the house indefinitely. I guess its possible I could lose my bid to have her eventually join my life, but if that’s her preference then I’ll do all I can to see she’s comfortable. This isn’t about me; it’s about her and her precious daughter.
As I pull into my driveway, my cell phone erupts with ‘Anchors Aweigh’. I shake my head at the sound and answer it.
“Rabb”
“Hi Dad,” comes the voice of one of the instigators in my ring tone.
“Shannon. How are you baby?” I reply.
“I’m fine, but you called me. What’s up?” she is ever practical and wastes little time on protocol. Of the five children between Mac and I, Shannon is the least suited to the military.
“I wanted to get some information from you if I can,” I tell her.
“Can it wait? We’re having dinner tonight,” she informs me.
“We are?” I respond puzzled.
“Yeah, the General, that is, Mac, called and told me you’re staying with her for the weekend. She asked me to dinner. Way to go, Dad,” she teases.
“It’s not like that Shan,” I inform her ruefully. “At leas not yet,” I add on a more hopeful note. “Remember what we talked about….about her house I mean?”
“Uh huh,” she replies.
“Well there’s been a problem. I’ll fill you in on the details later, but for now she needs a little backup,” I provide.
“I see, and as Mom always said, the hero in you couldn’t resist riding to the rescue.” This remark comes out on the wave of a giggle so I know she’s jerking my chain a little.
“Exactly,” I tell her, returning the jest. “That’s what Navy pilots do.”
She laughs out loud at that and finally gives in. “Okay, you win, Dad. What do you need?”
I’ve made it to my bedroom and shrug out of my uniform as I talk. Throwing more clothes into another bag for the weekend, I hang my uniform and zip it into a suit bag then find a clean shirt and Navy issue underwear for Monday.
“Listen, a while back you mentioned something about a group that rehabilitates military dogs for retirement to families. Is it safe? Is the program successful? How does it work?” I ask her all in one breath.
“Easy Dad, power down,” she returns an expression I’ve used on the girls for years when they get excited. “It’s very safe now. New training techniques have made it easier to re-socialize them. Also they thoroughly assess the animals personality before they begin retraining them, then they carefully match the family to the dog. I’ve never heard of a single instance of a mishap,” she tells me.
“Don’t you mean they match the dog to the family?” I ask, her confused by her verbiage.
“Nope that’s how the program works. The dog has to be happy with the new owner, bond with them so to speak, before they are released. These dogs are all old enough to have developed their own personalities. That has to be taken into consideration, it’s the basis of a safe transitions. Tell you what, I’ll print out some stuff and bring it along. Does Mac want a dog?” she asks.
“I don’t think she really knows about this program, but I asked her if she likes dogs and she said yes. I thought I’d tell her about it tonight and see how she feels. Since you’re coming, you can brief her. You know more than I do,” I suggest, pulling on casual clothes and preparing for my trip back to Virginia. In Friday evening traffic, it will take about two hours. “I’ll see you about 1900,” I tell her.
“Aye Aye, Captain,” she responds teasing me further. She always does that when I throw military terms at her.
“Bye, baby,” I tell her laughing softly. Grabbing my bags, the book I’m currently reading, and a few other necessary items that I forgot yesterday, I secure the back door before climbing into my car. It’s going to be an arduous drive. I program my favorite music into the sound system, deciding I might as well relax. I won’t do Mac any good in a hospital bed.
1845 Friday evening
Hauling my bags from the car, I push the door shut with my hip, climb the front steps, and ring the bell. While I wait I look around, assessing her yard from the perspective of a stealthy approach. If someone does show up I don’t want to be taken by surprise.
“Harm, what’s up?” she asks, as she opens the door.
“Nothing Mac, just looking around,” I try to brush it off.
“I understand that,” she replies acknowledging what I was doing. “But why didn’t you come in,” she asks a little exasperated.
“No key,” I shrug, trying not to sound as if this is a problem.
“Well the door wasn’t locked, but the key problem can certainly be solved,” she answers then stops. The look on my face tells her all she needs to know about how I view an unlocked door in light of the current situation.
“You’re probably right,” she answers with a sigh, then throws me a slightly defensive look. “But it’s early Harm.”
“I know sweetheart, I’m probably overreacting a little, but…”
“A little?” she cocks her head challenging me, then shakes it slightly backing off. “No, you’re right; it’s a habit I need to acquire. For years we never locked the door at all. I need to retrain myself. Take your bags upstairs and come join us in the kitchen. Shannon brought some fascinating stuff about adoptable, retired military dogs. She said it was your idea.” She’s smiling so I guess the idea appeals to her. I hurry up the stairs to put my bags in the room I’m using for the weekend. I could try to convince her to come stay with me, but it would leave her home unguarded. I don’t think she’d feel comfortable doing that.
Monday morning
Macs household has increased by the addition of one very large, square jawed, black and silver German Shepherd named Duke. Although trained for sentry and protection, Duke spent most of his tour in search and rescue. Unfortunately, on his last assignment he discovered so many bodies it burned him out. He’d gone through three months of treatment for depression. Duke was at heart a gentle soul who bonded immediately with Meggie and Mac, then decided on the basis of one good sniff that I was trustworthy as well.
After half an hour of closely assessing the developing relationship with my friends, the retired Master Sergeant in charge of the program decided to allow a few minutes of casual contact for my friends to walk the dog around the field. Carefully he watched their body language and interaction, looking for any sign at all that they might not bond.
I asked about the process of acclimating Duke to the woman I love and her daughter. He explained that the normal procedure was to have a week where they returned nightly for training and assessment, then another week where, if successful the first week, they could take Duke home, bringing him back each evening for more classes.
After two weeks of classes at the facility, Duke would be fully released to their custody, if all went well. He explained to me that the dog had been introduced to two other candidates, but neither had worked out. The dog just didn’t relate well with them.
In Mac and Meggie’s case it was a two way street of love at first sight. The dog’s tail hadn’t stopped wagging since the first moment they met. When they sat down in the middle of the field together, and Duke started ‘talking’ to them, the man seemed to make up his mind about something.
He took longer than was ordinary watching their bonding process, then spent another hour and a half showing first Mac, then Meggie the exact protocol and signals, both verbal and silent for the dog’s trained behavior. They were taught all the necessary commands to control him in a normal environment.
I questioned the signals necessary for his protective training, and he informed me the dog had been intensively trained to assess a threat. He unerringly recognized a weapon, and his own natural instincts would cause him to protect my friends with his life. It was a natural instinct in a good dog towards anyone he thought of as his responsibility. What he did teach them was a formal command if one of his ‘humans’ were present and in danger, and also one for him to relax in casual everyday use.
Two and a half hours later, he allowed the dog to accompany Mac and Meggie home with the stipulation they return religiously for further instruction and practice every night for the next two weeks. Duke jumped into the back area of my SUV, lay down like a perfect gentleman, and slept all the way home. Obviously, he felt perfectly comfortable with his new family.
His first task when he reached home was to completely inspect the yard after Mac released him as instructed. He soon returned, then performed the same inspection of the house once we were indoors. Upon discovering Meggie’s room by the simple function of smell, he decided that this was his place, so Mac and I placed his pad next to her bed. At that point, comfort reigned in the new canine/human relationship. I’m taking bets on how long before the dog is discovered sleeping on Meggie’s bed.
I introduced Mac to my friend as his crew finished the installation on her alarm system, and he showed her all the functions. I listened with half an ear while I watched delighted as Meggie and Duke continued to get acquainted. Given the way Duke behaves with her, I’m sure anyone who tries to get near her will have to go through him.
We spent the remainder of Saturday and all day Sunday in relaxing weekend activities. I found a few moments when I was able to hold Mac and reassure her both of my feelings and how I hope these precautions will keep them safe. Her backup is due to arrive this afternoon. They will meet at her office, then he’ll follow her home and move into her guesthouse.
Mac awoke early this morning to have breakfast with me before I go back to Annapolis. She has supplied me with a key to her home, although I doubt I’ll ever use it. She quickly pointed out that we’ve shared each other’s key for emergency purposes for years, and it seems a reasonable precaution. I will eventually get a copy of my key made for her, but since I seldom lock the door, it’s a moot point right now.
It is with a much lighter heart I leave for work, secure in the knowledge that Duke and the Marine in the guesthouse will keep these two important people safe. Still something tugs at me, a feeling I would prefer a more active role in insuring their security.
Suddenly I realize that I have actually succeeded in my quest to secure their safety, to the point that they now have no reason to ever change. But no matter, though I want Mac to join her life with mine, I never want it to occur through fear, it has to be only because it’s her choice.
I’m not giving up just yet. Maybe now with comfort and security at her back she can think about us in a positive way that will make her want to be with me. At least that’s my hope.
End of thirty
Mobius Strip
0355 Saturday
I picked this veterinarian for its twenty-four hour service, because I could take Duke for his checkups and shots in off hours, but in the back of my mind I had a feeling this could happen. I had no intention of wasting precious time arguing with an answering service in the middle of the night over how badly my pet was injured and could it wait until regular office hours.
I know when I call Harm he’ll come unglued, that’s probably why I haven’t made the call yet. However, the media people have been at the house so he’ll see it on the morning news. The troopers were thoughtful about guarding our privacy, and the reporters haven’t found us here at the hospital. If I don’t call him soon he’ll be furious, mostly because he’ll be worried sick. Maybe something else interesting will happen to bump us off the sunrise broadcast, but I can’t count on it.
The men we captured were all wanted felons. Two hadn’t been identified by name, but their descriptions and DNA are all on file in cases covering the northeastern part of the state, DC, and half of Maryland. The artist renderings in the police files are pretty conclusive. Once fingerprints are checked, and DNA is tested, I doubt the four of them will see natural sunlight again.
That would be enough to attract reporters, but the fact that Duke is an ex-military dog has perked the interest of the media lunatic fringe. Unfortunately, we won’t escape making headlines.
“Ma’am?” the fresh faced young trooper who’d come in with Major Howell, addresses me. He showed up about ten minutes ago and told me about the men we apprehended. I think he’s gauging my state of mind. “I know you’re upset, but if you can give me a statement now it would sure help.” He’s so polite, I refrain from reminding him that Marine Generals don’t get too upset to file after action reports.
“Sure,” I try for as much of a friendly smile as I can muster. “Can you do me a favor first?”
“Anything ma’am,” he agrees eagerly. If the media is going to make hay out of this, we will at least be the darling of several local law enforcement agencies for a long time.
“Can I ask you to sit with my daughter for a moment? She doesn’t want to leave the waiting room. She’s anxious for news of her dog, but I have to step out and make a quick phone call. I’ll be right back,” I promise.
“No problem. I’ll be happy to keep the young lady company,” he grins at me and turns to Meggie. “What’s your name, Miss?”
“Meggie,” she supplies, barely holding the tears. “I don’t know what I’ll do if we lose Duke,” she confides.
“I’ll be right back Meggie,” I assure her. “I have to call Harm or…”
“Yeah, I know. He’ll have a cow, Mom,” she sighs.
“Something like that,” I agree, and smile at her sympathetically. She’s running from practical to barely controlled and back again. The little girl inside is fighting to get past the self-styled tough skinned teenager.
Stepping outside I quickly punch the code for Harm’s phone and wait. It only rings once.
“Rabb,” he is instantly alert, realizing I imagine that there aren’t many things that could cause a call at this hour. “Mac, what? What happened?” he has apparently noticed the return number.
“It’s okay, Harm, we’re fine,” I try to reassure him immediately.
“What happened?” he asks again.
“They came back, Harm,” I sigh, telling him as simply as possible. “But we’re fine.”
“I’m on my way,” his voice is steely calm, almost too calm. He has switched to fighter pilot mode.
“Harm, please, it isn’t necessary. We’re fine. Meggie and I are okay,” I try to assuage his fears, wondering if he’ll hear what I’m not saying.
“Something’s wrong, Mac, I can hear it in your voice. Tell me,” he insists.
Sighing heavily I reply, “It’s Duke, he was injured.” I should have known it wouldn’t work.
“How bad….?” I can hear him rummaging around. He’s dressing, running on adrenalin.
“We don’t know. We’re waiting for the doctor to return now,” I give him what I have.
“Where are you?” he asks. I’m going to lose this argument, but I have to try.
“Honestly, Harm, we’re okay,” I really don’t know why I’m disputing this with him. I want him here.
“You won’t be if you lose Duke, Meggie will be devastated,” he cuts to the heart of the matter. “Now, where are you?” I hear the keys in his hand and the door opening in the background.
My voice fills with tears, recognizing what I haven’t allowed myself to think about. How Meggie will react if we lose that animal. She’s invested way too much emotion in him for the short time they’ve been together.
“I know,” I tell him, defeated. “We’re at the clinic, and we’ll be here for a while.” I give him directions to the facility several miles from our home and add, “Please, Harm, no speeding. Be safe,” I plead.
“I’ll be careful, Mac,” he promises, “I have to leave this phone. Call me on my cell if you need anything, okay?”
“Okay,” I agree and hear the click. I know he’ll push the limits of the road and his car. Fortunately, at this time of the morning there will very likely be few cars between here and Annapolis. He’ll have the entire beltway almost to himself.
With another small sigh, I close the phone. His reaction was just about what I expected. Returning inside I find the young officer speaking quietly to Meggie, trying to reassure her that her beloved pet will be all right.
“Honest, Miss, I was there, I saw how he looked afterwards. I really don’t think it’s that bad. Have faith, he needs your good thoughts,” I hear him say.
“Do you have a dog?” she turns and asks, tears still threatening.
“Yes, I have two, and believe me I know how you feel. How long have you had him?” he asks.
“Not long enough,” her lip trembles a little. “Not even two months.”
“Well, he’s a beautiful dog, and I know he’s tough, after all he was a Marine. You just have faith, okay?” She nods and stifles a yawn, she’s exhausted but isn’t about to show it.
I’m amazed she hasn’t broken by now. She’s being remarkably strong. Then I remember how she handled losing Victor. If she could hold it together for that loss, she’ll be tough now. As soon as Harm gets here, I know what will happen though. She’s given him a very special place in her heart. The minute he walks through the door she’ll let go.
I slip out of my jacket and bundle it. “Meggie, why don’t you lay down on the couch,” I offer. “The officer and I will sit here across from you.” She starts to protest. “I promise, darling, I’ll wake you the minute the doctor comes back. Remember, he said it could be an hour or two.”
“Why can’t he just tell us, Mom,” she wails in helpless exasperation.
“Think of it this way Meggie, if he came back too soon it might be bad news. The reason he’s been gone so long is because he’s still taking care of Duke.” She looks at me digesting this logic before nodding sleepily and laying her head on my jacket. “Okay Mom, but promise…”
“I promise Meggie; the moment he steps through the door I’ll call you. Now you rest,” I tell her again.
“Mom?”
“What, sweetheart?” I turn back.
“Is Harm coming?” She needs him right now, and I think she knows I do too.
“Yes dear, he’ll be here in about an hour,” I tell her.
“I bet he’ll be here sooner,” she smiles secretly.
“I certainly hope not,” I answer firmly, glancing at the officer standing next to me.
She lays down her head and appears to drift off. The young trooper and I sit across from her and he addresses me in a hushed tone. “Where’s your friend coming from, Ma’am?”
“Annapolis, I tried to tell him we’re okay, but he’s coming anyway.”
“Smart man,” the officer remarks.
“I just hope he gets here in one piece,” I add ruefully.
“That stretch of road is pretty quiet this time of the morning,” he informs me, then continues. “Now, ma’am, if you could just tell me in your own words what happened.”
Nodding, I think back over the events of the night.
“We got to bed late, about eleven,” I start. “We were planning a shopping trip tomorrow…well, later today.” It’s not essential information, but it leads me to what happened and he nods politely.
“About 0225 I heard the soft chirping of the alarm by my bedside. It signaled the beam across the driveway had been broken. Someone was approaching the house. By the time I reached the front window, I saw the dark car you found parked in front of the garage, and two men were getting out. I didn’t wait. I returned to my room to get my service revolver out of the drawer by my bed. Then I hit the button on the alarm console to signal base we had a genuine emergency.” I half close my eyes, visualizing the events as they occurred……..
Checking the action on my gun, I quickly move to the door of Meggie’s room. She’s sleeping soundly, and I foolishly believe I can handle this problem without waking her. Closing her door softly I start down the stairs, wondering briefly where Duke is. He’s in the habit of making several circuits around the house during the night, and I hope these men didn’t surprise and injure him.
It’s a strange thought, since he’s supposed to be here to protect us, that I feel responsible for protecting him. I don’t even stop to consider that this is exactly what he’s trained to do. As I reach the bottom step I hesitate, listening for any sound of entry. Suddenly, I’m startled by a cruel looking young man, who steps from the library and levels his gun at me. Mine immediately targets him and we’re in a standoff.
“Put it down lady, you might hurt yourself,” he scoffs.
“I don’t think so,” I reply, my voice is icy calm. My first thought is that I’m probably a better shot. I’m not afraid of shooting him. However, I know his reflexes might fire his weapon, and I’m just afraid where his round might go if I do.
“You’re being silly, woman. Have you ever fired that thing?” he tries to rattle me.
“More than you can imagine,” I tell him levelly. If I can keep him talking, it will give Major Howell time to respond. And Duke must be around here somewhere.
With a fraction of uncertainty, he brazenly suggests. “You haven’t killed anyone, I’m sure of that. Not like I have,” he brags.
“Don’t bet on it,” I reply, my voice hard. My bluff is working better than I thought, but my luck doesn’t hold.
“Mom,” she utters breathlessly from the landing above me; I can tell by her tone she fully realizes the danger. An evil grin crosses the intruder’s face.
“Go back to your room, now,” I order her, knowing it’s to no avail.
“Better not, girl,” he calls. “Unless you want a dead mother.”
“Mo-o-om?” her voice is fearful of the threat, questioning. However, Meggie has an inner strength I can rely on. She’s frightened, but she won’t panic.
“Please, Meggie, go,” I tell her.
“Down here now, ‘Meggie’,” he emphasizes her name. “Or I’ll kill her in front of you.”
My heart sinks as I hear her pad down the stairs behind me. “No, please, don’t hurt her, please,” she begs this piece of trash.
“Stand behind me, Meggie,” I tell her, and thankfully she obeys.
“No, you come here, ‘Meggie’,” he orders her, his agitation is going to escalate this quickly. “And you put your gun on the floor or I’ll kill both of you, but not until we have lots of fun with the young one,” he sneers vilely.
Rage almost overcomes my better judgment. He can’t possibly believe I’d do anything to put Meggie in his filthy hands. For a fraction of a second I’m uncertain, calculating my next move. If I order her down will she drop to the floor when I fire? Are her responses that reliable? As my mind rapidly sorts through the options for taking him down, my ace in the hole arrives.
“Okay, fine,” I tell him, appearing to surrender. “Just don’t hurt her. Do what you want with me, but don’t hurt her, please,” I beg him, knowing it will buy a few more precious seconds.
I’ve just noticed a silky black nose, and two silver paws appear around the corner of the doorway, behind and to the right of the intruder. Most likely if working on his own, Duke would have simply attacked straight away, but my presence has automatically put him under command. Like a good Marine, he now awaits orders. The stealthy movements of our wolf-like protector mesmerize me, as inch by slow inch he moves with catlike grace past the doorframe and positions himself. Silently his lips pull back from his teeth and his ears flatten. It’s all I can do not to look directly at him; he is a fascinating study in feral instinct.
“Put it down now,” he orders again, motioning impatiently with the gun. “Put it down or you’re dead where you stand.”
“I could shoot you, too,” I offer, pretending to tremble with false bravado, I need only a second more.
“Yeah, you could,” he sneers, “but I don’t think you’re as ready to die as I am. I don’t have nothin’. The only thing I have is how many people I can hurt before someone gets to me. You may kill me, but I think I can hurt you bad too, and I have two friends outside who will have a real good time with your daughter whether I’m here or not.”
Though not in direct physical contact with her, I can feel the air vibrate as Meggie shivers behind me. If she’s noticed Duke, she is smart enough not to say anything.
“Okay, take it easy,” I tell him. “We can make a deal here. Take anything in the house, just leave my daughter alone,” I entreat, as I start to bend towards the floor.
“Yeah, right,” he smirks. It’s the last coherent thing he has to say.
As I bend halfway, I shout the command that releases Duke and turn, throwing myself sideways, taking Meggie down with me. Wrapping my left arm around her, I try to cushion her fall and roll her under me, then I twist to see what’s happening.
The response is impeccable and immediate. With a vicious, primal, snarl Duke launches his entire hundred and fifteen pounds at the man, spinning him off his feet and securing his gun hand between iron jaws. I hear the report of a shot as it hits the ceiling and another snarl from the dog. A second shot rings out, and in the fading echo the intruder’s anguished scream fills the small room directly followed by the unmistakable sound of his wrist breaking. Finally, he drops the gun, unable to grip it any longer.
However, either the adrenalin of living his life for destruction, or possibly a serious acquaintance with drugs, gives him the ability to continue the fight. I see his left hand flash and I scream a warning at Duke. It’s not any kind of formal command but he understands. As a knife appears in the attacker’s left hand, Duke’s open mouth turns to grasp his other wrist, the dog is a short second late and the knife sinks into the fur across his back. A scream of agony erupts from Duke’s throat, blocked by the hand in his mouth, but he continues to apply pressure until the knife hits the floor. Trembling slightly, he holds his position on top of our assailant.
Quickly I spring to my feet, and kick the man’s gun several feet away. Repeating the motion with the knife, I instruct Meggie to retrieve a scarf from the coat tree by the door.
Planting my feet, I level my gun at his chest, and call Duke off the injured attacker. Snarling lethally, he crawls slowly backwards watching the man for any sign he might dare to move. I still catch a glint in his eyes that says he will try something. Over the low growl from Duke’s throat, I address him.
“Allow me to introduce myself, General Sarah Galindez, United States Marine Corps.” The look that colors my face informs him unmistakably that I’m perfectly capable and willing to end his scummy life if he even breathes wrong.
He hisses a comment not meant for polite company. I can only assume this means his ‘recon’ didn’t do a thorough job. Noticeably, his face changes from one of further intent to the realization of defeat. Possibly some kind of good sense, or abject fear has taken hold of the assailant, and he lies where he’s fallen. A Marine General with a gun and a military guard dog, even an injured one, isn’t the sort of combination he’s apparently willing to test.
Without placing any faith in his momentary surrender, or taking my eyes from my enemy, I back Duke far enough away that it’s safe for Meggie to approach him, and I instruct her to apply the scarf as a pressure bandage on the dogs wound.
Within seconds, two other figures appear at the corner to the office, and I glance up briefly. Instantly I recognize Major Howell, and the uniform of a state trooper.
“I need you to put the gun down, Ma’am,” the trooper instructs me.
“She knows how to use it,” Howell informs him. “She’s a Marine General.”
“Still, I need to secure the scene and all weapons. Was your weapon fired, Ma’am?” he asks, as he takes a position next to me, his own weapon trained carefully on the man on the floor.
“No, he fired twice when my dog took him down,” I tell him, surrendering my weapon. “Watch him, he’s tricky,” I warn the officer.
“Oh, we know all about him,” he waves two more officers into the room to take custody of the prisoner. “We’ve almost had him before. He put the last officer who tried to arrest him out on a disability for life,” he tells me harshly. “We won’t underestimate him again.”
“There were two more….” I start.
“The Major had them all wrapped up in a neat little bundle by the time we arrived,” the trooper admitted. “We were worried we were going to be dealing with a hostage situation though. I see we had nothing to worry about.”
“Thanks to Duke,” I glance towards Meggie’s fearful face. With the assailant gone Duke has relaxed against her. “Look officer, I’d like to stay and help sort this out, but my dog is the hero here, and he needs immediate medical attention. If you don’t mind I’d like to get him to the vet.” It’s meant as a polite request, but under the rush of adrenalin it comes out as an order.
“As soon as you’re ready you have an escort, Ma’am,” he informs me warmly. “The Major tells me he’s retired military,” he motions towards Duke.
I just nod, “Thank you,” I acknowledge his offer. With the danger passed my response to what almost happened is surfacing. I need to deal with the immediate problem and regroup. I won’t have much to say for a while.
“Meggie, I’m going to throw on some clothes, then I’ll take care of Duke while you dress. We need to get him into the car,” I instruct her. Later we’ll deal with the deeper emotion of what happened this evening, but for now, we silently agree taking care of Duke is the most important thing.
“Both of you go dress. I’ll take care of Duke,” Cary Howell offers. “That is, if he’ll let me.”
I move towards the Major taking him up to Duke. “It’s okay,” I tell the dog and place Howell’s hand on the makeshift bandage. “Let’s go, Meggie,” I tell her, and we hurry up the stairs to change.
In mere moments we are back in the hall. Grabbing my keys, I instruct Meggie to hold the bandage in place while Major Howell lifts the dog as though he were a feather. God bless Marine Corps training. We place him in the back of our vehicle and Meggie climbs in beside him, never letting go of the pressure bandage, as a motorcycle officer takes my directions, and pulls in front of us to escort us to the animal clinic.
“That’s about it,” I tell the officer, as we sit quietly awaiting word on the fate of our hero.
“Thank you Ma’am, that’s very helpful. I’ll pray for Duke,” he offers, as he gathers his hat and jacket, preparing to leave. “Here’s my card, please let me know how he is.”
I thank him and promise to call him later. Moving to the couch, I take Meggie’s head in my lap, as we await the outcome of this night. I’m sitting here holding her, when Harm bursts through the door barely forty-five minutes after I called him. I know the distance from his home. He must have broken speed laws in two states.
“Mac,” he blurts his concern, then hushes when he sees Meggie asleep. Sitting on the low table before me, he asks. “How is she?”
“Exhausted, worried, and frightened to death, Harm,” I reply abruptly to the obvious, immediately contrite as I realize the release of tension has left me exhausted and short-tempered as well.
“Sorry,” he remarks a little taken aback. “I should have realized.”
“I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t take it out on you,” I apologize sincerely. My nerves are raw, but if not for Harm, this would have been a life-altering disaster, instead of a dreadful incident.
“Mac, I should have been there,” he tries to beat himself up.
“Harm you couldn’t, we both know that. We had the tools we needed thanks to you, and they worked. We not only protected ourselves, we caught them. They’re wanted in connection with so many crimes they won’t see daylight in this lifetime,” I reassure him. “I’m just worried….
“Harm?” Meggie stirs sleepily. “Is that you?”
“It’s me, squirt, you just rest,” he reaches to soothe her.
“Oh, Harm. Duke is hurt,” she rises from my lap and throws herself into his arms sobbing wildly. “I don’t want him to die.”
“Hey,” he says softly, holding her tight. “Hey, it will be okay. Duke will be fine, I’m sure. Take it easy, baby,” he croons, handling it just like her natural father would. Then I remember he’s had practice. First Mattie, then Shannon. Meggie would capture his heart the same way. He’ll treat her like his own. Tears spring to my eyes with this knowledge.
“You must be a mind reader, sir,” we hear a tired, gruff voice over his shoulder.
I look up, Harm turns slightly, and Meggie raises her head from his shoulder. “Duke?” she whispers.
“He’ll be fine. It sliced partway through a muscle, but the cut was clean. That knife must have had a surgically sharp blade. It deflected off his shoulder; the cut is long but not deep. There was a lot of surface bleeding, but you controlled that well and no major blood vessels were involved. He’ll heal just fine with time and rest. We took special care mending him. It’s ugly right now, but he should only have a thin scar. His fur will grow back and you won’t be able to see it at all. If you take good care of him, he’ll have full range of motion again soon,” the doctor promises, as a mesmerized Meggie takes in his explanation.
“Oh, Mom, did you hear? He’s all right,” she cries and throws herself against Harm again, releasing tears of relief and joy.
“When can we take him home?” I ask the vet.
“He’s groggy now. I want to monitor him for a few hours. We’ll treat him for possible infection and check again to make certain he shakes off the anesthetic. It’s nothing to worry about, just the normal, post-surgery precautions. If you come back around noon, I think he can go home with certain strict instructions for his care,” he promises.
“See, Meggie,” Harm tells her. “Let’s go home and get some rest, then we’ll come back and get Duke when he wakes up. You need your strength to take care of him.”
For some reason she listens to Harm. I know I’d have had an argument. She would have insisted on camping out in the waiting room until Duke was released.
We shake hands with the doctor thanking him for his work, and Meggie gives him a hug and a teary ‘thank you.’ After making certain he has all our contact numbers we make our way back to the house.
I tuck Meggie into bed and make her promise to sleep for Dukes sake. As I leave her room, he’s waiting for me. Gathering me into his arms, he holds me close. I can feel him trembling, aftershocks of fear traveling his lean frame.
“God, Mac, I could have lost you and Meggie,” he lays his face against my hair.
“Harm, you did so much, gave us so much to work with, we were really only in danger for a few moments. I wouldn’t have let him hurt Meggie, Harm,” I tell him.
“But who was going to stop him from hurting you?” he looks down at me.
“Isn’t that what Duke was for? Backup?” I ask him, smiling slightly. “He performed brilliantly, you should have seen him,” I offer reassuringly.
“Okay,” he pretends to let go, but I know it will eat at him for a time. He won’t be comfortable as long as we live here, but at least that group is off the street permanently.
“Why don’t you get a little rest, Mac? I’ll get a pillow and a blanket and go nap on the couch,” he suggests.
“It’s only 0530, Harm. We can make up one of the beds quickly,” I tell him.
“No. I’ll just nap a little. I got to bed early,” I can’t tell if he’s still running on afterburners, or if it’s the truth, but I’m really too tired to worry at this point. Having him here has taken the last bits of fear away and left me exhausted. The only thing better would be if I could curl into his arms, but something is still stopping us from that. I’ll have to give that barrier a lot of thought.
“Okay, Harm. I’ll see you in a little while,” I surrender, and turn towards my room.
“Mac, one more thing. When they saw my car they turned and ran, why didn’t they see Howells car?” he puzzles.
I smile indulgently, “Like anyone whose been deployed all those years, the first thing he did when he returned was buy his dream car, Harm. I let him park it in the garage. I guess no one noticed him coming and going. He was keeping pretty odd hours with his classes and the attendant drills.”
He nods understanding. “I see,” he says. There’s no blame to be laid in this, everyone did their best. He reaches into the linen closet for a blanket and pillow then smiles at me before turning for the stairs.
I close the door to my room, strip the outer layer of clothes, and collapse on the bed.
The Pier
I have no idea why I did that. It’s so unfair. I mean, I want what we have, what we’ve found. I wanted what happened last night. I didn’t just go along with it; I encouraged him. He’s held me many times in the last few months, but not like that, not so I felt his body hard against mine, still strong and toned, barely softened by time. When he kissed me it set me on fire, and his hands fanned the flames. I know I love him. I just can’t understand what made me run.
Why did I steal away so early this morning, when I really wanted to move close to him, cuddle with him, and repeat what we did last night? Why didn’t I just go sit on the porch, or go back to the room I shared with Meggie. The rest of the house was still asleep. Certainly Harm was. He was sound asleep. He didn’t stir when I slipped from his side, quickly dressed, and left the room. No doubt they are all still sleeping.
How could I do that to him after all he’s done for us, for me. He has unquestionably given us his love. He made us safe. He used all his resources to see to it that we were protected. When Duke was wounded, Harm asked for three days emergency leave to help me nurse him and care for him, until he began to get around on his own.
I’ll never forget how he made us rest that Saturday morning. Then after a short nap, he apparently cleaned the blood from the floor in the hallway before making his way to the guesthouse to personally thank Major Howell for his part. I found them sitting at the kitchen table when I awoke, a second pot of coffee just finished brewing. The shadow on Harm’s face gave clear indication that Major Howell had told him every detail of the previous night’s ordeal.
A little while later, we woke Meggie up, and Harm cooked breakfast for everyone, before we returned to collect our hero. He was deeply torn between the need to have been there for us, and relief that all the precautions had worked. We argued briefly over the payment of Dukes hospital bill, but it became a moot point when we arrived and found that donations from several local law enforcement agencies had solved the problem for us.
The reporter who tried to stir trouble over Duke’s ‘vicious attack and injury’ of an ‘unsuspecting person’ was met with such a public outcry at the twisted facts, that the TV station fired him. After that, other more substantial news items took over, and our story was thankfully forgotten by all but a few.
Meggie and I went for a short term of counseling at Bethesda, but she bounced back remarkably stronger than before. Duke had to go back to the training facility three times a week for a few weeks to rehabilitate his shoulder muscle after it healed, and Harm has been there with us through everything.
All in all, the last two months have brought us everything: love, warmth, security and happiness. We’ve spent every weekend together since then, either at our home in Virginia, or here at Harm’s place. The incident in March taught me a hard lesson in the value of treasuring our time together. A lesson that began with Victor’s death, and culminated when Meggie and I were threatened.
For months we’ve cuddled, held each other, and kissed, sometimes passionately. Often too passionately to believe we could stop with a kiss, but we never made that extra step. Harm never seemed comfortable with the idea of the bedroom in my home, and for whatever reason we avoided the step at his home as well. But last night something was different, the air felt different, like we’d stepped out of time and space. It seemed so right.
So why did I wake up an hour ago with the feeling that I shouldn’t do this, that it’s not right for me to love him? Am I just being foolish? I wonder if I can just go back? Probably no one’s awake yet, I could just slip back into bed. No, that won’t work, not now. He’s right behind me. I’ve always known were he is. No other presence feels like his. What do I do now?
End of thirty one
Mobius Strip
The Pier
She’s there. I can see her, just sitting there, her legs dangling over the end of the dock. She looks so….so lost….and alone. God, I want to go to her.
Perhaps I should leave her to her thoughts, wait until she returns to me….or not.
No. I can’t, not again. Not after last night. I have to know.
Everything’s been so upside down for the last ten days, ever since Thursday, a week ago when she called me…
Harmon Rabb’s home
“Harm? I need to ask a favor,” her bright voice warms my heart.
“Anything, you know that,” I answer indulgently, realizing it’s so very true.
“Meggie and I want to come there, to Annapolis this weekend, instead of you coming here,” she suggests cryptically.
“Sure, fine, if that’s what you want,” it doesn’t matter to me, but it‘s more difficult for her to pack stuff for both of them and bring the dog than for me to just stuff a change of clothes in a small bag. At least she doesn’t have to pack for Duke. We supplied my house with his needs the first weekend they stayed with me. However, if it makes her happy….then she drops her bombshell.
“We have something to tell you, Harm. Meggie and I have been talking and we’ve decided to move.” Silence follows, for a moment; I have no words.
“Harm? Are you there?” she pierces my thoughts.
“I’m here Mac,” I swallow hard. “Where? When? What’s this about Mac?” I’m in full panic mode, this sounds serious.
“It’s okay Harm, but it will be easier to explain it all in person. We’ll see you tomorrow night around 1900 okay?” she laughs lightly, her sound that of a soft wind chime, cheerful, almost giddy. And that is a scary thought, Mac is not the giddy type.
“Okay,” I agree, thinking ‘easier for whom?’ Whatever life altering decision she’s made, it’s going to affect me, and I’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out what it is. I sigh heavily and give up the idea of having much sleep tonight.
Harmon Rabb’s home
Almost on the hour I hear the front screen door squeak open and Meggie’s delighted squeal of, “Harm?” followed by the deep ‘Woof,’ of the huge dog who rarely leaves her side.
“In here, squirt,” I called from the kitchen. “I’m mixing a seafood salad for dinner.” The sound of her sneaker clad feet is matched by the loping pad of her fur covered companion. Turning, I just have time to brace myself before she throws herself at me, giving me a huge kiss on the cheek. Meggie seems to have adopted me as an adequate substitute father, and I’m happy to accept the job.
I only wish Mac…but then, I’m not going there. Not now, not yet. We’re still operating on standby, and now with this new change in her life I decide not to set myself up for disappointment. Considering what that change might be has me off-balance. We’ve reached a very comfortable level, but there is some barrier still blocking that last move.
“Can I tell him, Mom?” she calls over her shoulder, eyes sparkling.
“If you want to dear,” Mac replies, struggling through the doors with two bags.
“Meggie,” I scold. “You shouldn’t let your mother carry this stuff by herself.” Moving her gently aside, I walk quickly past her to help Mac.
“Mom,” Meggie scolded in turn, exuding youthful exasperation. “You said you’d leave them for me to get.”
“They aren’t that heavy,” Mac protests, but surrenders them to me. Taking the bags, I close the door behind her, and carry them to the room that she and Meggie always occupy. With reluctance, I return to the kitchen, unsure if I’ll like this ‘plan’.
“Now can I tell him, Mom?” Meggie is bursting with her news.
“Anyone want something to drink?” I interrupt, stalling for another moment.
“Nothing for me,” Mac smiles tolerantly. I think she’s reading my mind.
“Juice, please,” Meggie requests, then follows with, “Guess what, Harm?”
“I don’t think I can,” I answer, my discomfort increasing by the second. Rummaging deep in the fridge I find a bottle of Meggie’s favorite juice.
“We’re moving to Annapolis,” she blurts happily. “Then we’ll be close by and we can see you all the time.”
“Here?” I ask puzzled, “but…that is…” I’d love to assume she means they want to live with me, but I know better.
“Aren’t you happy, Harm? I thought you’d like having us close,” Meggie looks disappointed.
“Meggie darling, I think Harm is just surprised, not unhappy,” Mac searches hopefully for a sign she’s read me correctly.
“Of course,” I let out my breath in a whoosh. “I’m stunned. Mac what about your career? What about JAG? That’s an awful commute in the morning.”
“I’m not commuting Harm, I’m retiring.”
“Retiring?!” I nearly explode. “I don’t understand,” I’m still too stunned for proper responses.
“It’s easy Harm. I fill out the papers and I don’t have to go to work any more,” she recites in simplified terms, her voice edgy with thinning patience for my dithering.
“Maaac, I understand that part,” I reply to her sharp humor. “What I don’t understand is why? You love your job.”
“Yes, I do, but it’s time. It isn’t like it once was, Harm. Someone else needs to do it now, and I need more time with my family.” She looks like she’d like to include me, but her determination fails at that point. I think my response has made her uncertain. She’s getting that look she always did when she was about to run. I thought she had moved past that response, but perhaps I’m the only one who makes her feel that way. I wish I could make myself say the right thing, but I’m astonished, this is so unexpected.
“What about Meggie? She’s in her senior year next year,” I comment quickly, then add with a rueful grin. “Shan and Andy would have had my head if I’d suggested such a thing.” The fact that I’m arguing surprises me, but I’m still trying to find a part of this that makes sense.
“It was my idea Harm,” Meggie pipes up, unwilling to let us talk around her.
“Really?” My eyebrows climb to the top of my forehead.
“That’s right,” Mac adds. “She actually suggested it. We were reviewing all our options, and this plan just sort of all fit together. So we wanted to come here this weekend to tell you about it, and….and look for a place to live,” Mac finishes distractedly. Her positive demeanor is overshadowed by the cooler flavor of disappointment. I assume it’s because I didn’t demonstrate immediate enthusiasm.
“How….how much time do you have,” I ask searching for something to say while my brain works for the words I need.
“It will probably take several weeks. We’ll need a place with a small yard for Duke,” Mac begins.
“He’s mostly a couch potato, but he does have to go outside sometimes,” Meggie jumps in pragmatically.
“It doesn’t have to be a big yard. I can take him for walks while Meggie is in school. Even an apartment with easy outdoor access will do,” she shrugs, sounding like she has something else to say, but isn’t comfortable saying it.
I’m still trying to catch my breath. Retiring that’s the last thing I would have expected. Mac’s world has suddenly tilted too. First she lost Victor, then the twins came to Annapolis, and her time with them was limited, now Meggie’s planning to leave in another year, it has to be a time when she reconsiders her priorities, especially after what happened two months ago. I’m sure she started thinking about her loss if things had turned out differently. I know I certainly did.
How like her not to even think about staying with me, we haven’t really discussed a future, except in the vaguest terms. I told her I loved her, and didn’t want to lose her, but I never pushed any farther. She didn’t seem ready. I wonder if she waited to tell me so I wouldn’t have time to make the offer, or because she didn’t want me to feel pressured to do so. Certainly she wouldn’t presume, and she appears to have her heart set on independence. I want to suggest she stay here, but perhaps this isn’t a good time; not with all the changes she’s making. I just hope she isn’t planning to buy a house; a rental won’t be so permanent and it will give me time to work at changing her mind about being with me.
“So how is this going to work?” I ask, still distracted, but trying to restore a positive charge to the air.
“Well first, I’ve already submitted my request for retirement. They are gearing up to interview replacements beginning on Monday. It could take up to three months, but it could be sooner so I want to get started. As soon as we have a place we’ll work on transferring Meggie’s school records to whatever district we live in. If we find a place sooner it won’t hurt me to commute for a few months,” she recites the information like a memorized speech, more than a conversation. Did she have her facts lined up this neatly, or is she just responding to my reaction?
I glance at Meggie and the expression on her face informs me this conversation isn’t going the way she expected. I know my initial reaction may have seemed cool, but total bewilderment was a closer description of my feelings. I need to find a way to regenerate their enthusiasm. I’m definitely not sorry they’re moving here, on the contrary, I’m actually delighted. I just wish I’d had more time to plan, and Mac was relaxed enough to be more receptive to what I really want. She’s so tense, and I can’t figure out if it’s because of my reaction, or because she’s afraid I’ll make that suggestion.
“You should stay close around here, Mac,” I interject protectively, in an effort to sound encouraging. “Better school,” I smile hopefully to test her reaction. If I get her to accept being close, maybe I can transition to very close and avoid the interim step. Her skeptical eyes give clear evidence that she’s completely uncertain what I’m thinking. “Really, Mac, this neighborhood has the best school district, except for the part of town we couldn't afford even if we had my mother's income." The 'we' was definitely a Freudian slip, and I look her way to see if she noticed.
Her arched eyebrow indicates she did, but she allows it to pass, a warning we aren’t on the same page with our feelings. I guess I’d better back off for now.
“And you’re really okay with this, Meggie?” I repeat lightly, trying to restore the mood, but I know instinctively I’m still messing this up.
“Well, I will miss a few of my friends, but not like I miss my brothers. In another year we’ll be more than half a continent apart and I don’t know when I’ll see them again. I’d rather spend this last year near them. Besides I’ll have to get used to leaving friends behind I’ll be in the military, and flying isn’t like being a lawyer you know,” she offers sagely.
“Tell me about it,” is my only response.
I hear a small cough from Mac that sounds seriously like a suppressed laugh at the thought of her daughter explaining the life of a pilot to me. At another time she would have laughed out loud, this was just wrong. I walk a few steps, looking out the window, gathering my thoughts, then turn to look at both of them.
“Okay,” I rub my hand through my hair. “We can’t do this, it’s what we did before and we can’t do it,” I look straight at Mac. She is startled, surprised, mentally she’s already backing away. Closing the distance between us, I reach for her hand and hold it in both of mine.
“Mac, I’m sorry. I misunderstood and I was very surprised, I’m sorry I was so unresponsive,” searching her eyes I look for an indication she accepts this. “Of course I want you and Meggie close by, there’s nothing…nothing I want more,” I emphasize. Pressing her hand between mine in an effort to transfer my feelings, I capture and hold her eyes. She struggles to turn away, then something stops her and she searches deeply into mine. Finally, she lets out a long breath.
“I’m sorry too, Harm. This was too big of a change. I shouldn’t have dropped it on you like that,” she lowers her eyes briefly then returns to me. “It all just seemed to fall together so perfectly, the idea of being here near you, and Ricky, and Robby, all of us spending this last year together before Meggie leaves. I guess it was a bit of a surprise for you. You must have been tied in knots since last night. You couldn’t have anticipated any of this; it came up so suddenly. I guess I should have given you some warning,” her lips curve in a tiny smile, asking forgiveness. “Or at least I could have told you in an airplane,” her grin sparkles mischievously. “You never were very good at thinking on the fly unless you were in a cockpit.”
“Once a pilot always a pilot,” I shrug, with a nervous laugh, trying for a match of her disarming humor. The funny thing is she’s the only one who has that effect on me, who makes me speechless and awkward.
Satisfied we’ve sidestepped an old minefield, I watch as the tension falls from us like Autumn leaves. Her laughter joins mine and Meggie adds her voice, appreciating the inside joke. Boldly I move into her space and do something I’ve rarely done. I deliberately pull Mac into a deep hug in full view of one of our children. It isn’t a sensual hug, but it’s definitely more than mere friendship. I arbitrarily decide it’s about time they were accustomed to it. If Mac protests, it will set the boundaries of our future together.
But she doesn’t protest, if anything she moves closer and I brush a kiss on the top of her head. She remains in my arms for longer than simple friendship would require before giving me a little extra squeeze. Only then does she allow her arms to slip casually from around my waist.
She leans her head back and her face is bathed in a radiant smile. “I guess we avoided that ambush, Navy.” She’s rarely used any of the old pet names since we met again a year ago. It’s very heartening to hear her call me by the familiar reference, and I quickly regain my positive outlook. There will be a way, somehow I’ll find it.
“I guess we did, Marine,” I return her smile. “Shall we eat?” I offer. It’s time to get on with whatever plan works best for them.
Harmon Rabb’s home
Dragging themselves in from their quest, they find me napping on the couch, assignments spread around me awaiting correction. Duke is sleeping with his head across my lap. Obviously, there is nothing unresolved in that part of our relationship. The dog and Meggie accept me wholeheartedly. Not only that, Shannon and Amanda have come to truly enjoy Mac’s company, Robert accepts our growing friendship at face value, and Eric is looking less suspicious as time passes.
Mac and Meggie spent the entire weekend keeping appointments with realtors and rental agents. I stayed at home with Duke and only went with them once, when they thought they’d found a place that was suitable. It was too far away for my comfort. I’m not sure if I was sad or pleased to take them two blocks in the opposite direction and show them the proximity of a neighborhood similar to the one that still bordered their home in Virginia.
I can tell by the set of Mac’s shoulders she is exhausted physically, and in deep despair over their unsuccessful search. I’m drained emotionally from dwelling on the impact of her finding a house, especially one that she might buy or lease for a long term. Regardless of the truce we arranged Friday night, I feel my future narrowing quickly.
Too tired to even scold me for allowing Duke on the couch, Mac simply excuses herself to their room to take a quick shower before they packed for their return to Virginia.
“Pretty tough day, huh?” I ask Meggie. I think I’ve figured out what the problem is, but I need verification.
“Yeah, the only other place suitable was way out of our budget. Most of the places were just dumps, Harm,” she confides with thorough disgust and tosses herself into the big overstuffed chair across from me.
Digesting this information, I ponder a moment formulating a plan. Maybe I can find a way to make this work after all. I know they will return for the graduation dance next weekend. Meggie and Shannon will go as guests of Eric, Robert, and Amanda. It’s odd none of them have a real date for this event. I’m bothered a little that at such a young age our children are already adopting the same career first priorities that had interfered seriously in the relationship between Mac and me the first time. If I had to do it over, I would have found a way to have my family and my career. Other people do it. Her next comment has me thinking that belief is possibly premature.
“Harm?” Meggie interrupts my reverie uncertainly.
“Hmmm, what is it Meggie?” I muse still half in my thoughts.
“Can I ask you something? It’s kind of personal.” She sounds worried.
“What kind of personal?” This makes me nervous, she’s demonstrated a remarkable ability to read my thoughts on occasion.
“Me personal, not you personal,” she smiles a little, probably aware of the reason for my response.
“Okay, what gives?” I perk up. Father stuff I suspect. I’m on firmer ground here.
“Remember Austin?” she begins vaguely.
“Austin McGuire?” My eyebrows shoot up to my hairline and alarm bells start. I think we’re heading into tricky territory. “Sure, you still email him?”
“Uh huh,” she replies evasively. “Harm I’m sorta worried, he wrote and asked if he could join us for the dance next week.”
“Really?” I sit up straighter. Uh-oh. “Don’t you want to see him?” I inquire, hoping this isn’t going to be the issue I think it is, although with two brothers and two acquired sisters I doubt there would be any reason for concern.
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just….well in the beginning he promised Mom he wouldn’t see me unless he asked her permission. I guess Mom had her reasons for that. I mean I trust him, but I’m kinda worried. I want to see him again, but….”
“Don’t Meggie,” I warn her immediately. “Tell your Mom right away.” I wouldn’t have expected this kind of behavior from McGuire.
“She might say no,” Meggie objects.
“Yes, you’re right. She might, but she wouldn’t do so arbitrarily. She would only say no if she truly felt there was a problem. Meggie, I expect the truth from my children even if they know they won’t like my response. I certainly hope they trust me enough to believe I have their best interest at heart. Don’t ever even think of lying to your Mom, not even by omission young lady,” I warn her.
“Yes sir, I guess I knew that, but…. I’ll tell her tonight,” she promises.
“Tell me what?” Mac wanders back into the room, toweling her hair and looking somewhat refreshed.
“I…uh…I’ll…” Meggie struggles.
“Look, I’ll go start dinner. I know you want to get on the road soon,” I try to excuse myself from what will obviously be a family problem.
As I start to rise, Meggie stops me, “No. Please, Harm, stay.”
I look from one to the other, then with a brief nod from Mac, I relax against the seat cushions. Mac moves to perch casually on the arm beside me. Not too near or too far, the position accepts me into the dynamic, but avoids presenting Meggie with closed ranks. “Okay Meggie, what’s this all about,” she pegs her daughter with what I used to call her drill sergeant stare.
“It’s Austin, Mom. He wants to join us for dinner, the five of us and….well, sort of hang with us at the dance. I mean he’ll be there anyway, but….well….I guess this is different,” she admits.
“Yes Meggie, it is different,” Mac sighs. “Were you afraid to tell me?”
“Yes, no, maybe, I don’t know. I mean…like I said, he’d be at the dance anyway, but I remembered his promise, and I thought you should know he asked. If you don’t approve….” she hesitates a long minute, gathering her courage. “Harm said I had to tell you,” she finally admits.
She looks carefully at me then back at her daughter. “Austin wrote me almost two weeks ago and asked for my permission to ask you to the dance,” Mac reveals.
“He did?” Meggie shows surprise. “What did you say? Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I told him that you were too young for that kind of date with someone four years older, but if you wanted to allow it, he could join the group of the five of you. That it was up to you to decide and, it was up to him to ask you. When did he ask you?” Mac inquires.
A host of emotions cross Meggie’s face, not the least of which is that of underestimating her friend. “Wednesday, that is not exactly, but Wednesday was when he finally asked. He wrote about….lets see, not quite two weeks ago, and asked if I was coming to town for the graduation and I said yes. Then he asked if I was going to the dance, and I said I was going with Eric, and Robert, and Amanda, and that Shannon was going with us too. So we talked back and forth a few days, then Wednesday he asked if he could join us, if that would be okay with Eric, and Robert, and the others. I knew about his promise to you. I wasn’t sure if this was the same, because everyone would be there anyway,” she finishes lamely, sounding like she doesn’t really believe what she is saying.
“Are you sure about that, Meggie,” Mac questions sternly.
“No, ma’am, I thought it might be wrong. I just…. I wanted to talk to him again, I mean for real, but I couldn’t believe he’d go behind your back. I told him I had to ask the others,” Meggie finishes, ashamed on two fronts.
“So what made you finally decide to tell me about it,” Mac’s deceptively quiet voice is a clear signal of her emotion.
“Harm,” Meggie admits
“Harm?” Her eyebrows shoot up. She glances at me, then her attention refocuses on her daughter.
“Yes, Ma’am. I asked him if I needed to tell you that Austin would be there, if it was okay for him to join us. I mean, I don’t want to get Austin in trouble, and I did want to see him, but….” she falters then adds, “I knew Harm would know if I was being stupid and he did.”
“What did Harm say?” she glances quickly at me again.
“He told me I better not ever even consider lying to you, that even not telling you about something makes it a lie if it’s wrong,” Meggie admits. “Sorry, Mom, I guess I just lost my perspective for a minute. But Harm straightened me out.”
“Well,” Mac says softly, “I’m glad you had the good sense to ask one of us, and since Austin kept his word, his behavior isn’t at issue. I hope you’ll trust our judgment in the future.” I wonder if it was deliberate, or a slip of the tongue that she includes me.
“Yes, Ma’am,” Meggie studies her hands at the reprimand. Duke slides off the couch and pads over to the young girl. Nudging her hands aside, he lays his head in her lap. I look up at Mac to see if I can tell what she meant by her last comment, and find her looking thoughtfully at me. I believe she meant it just the way it sounded. We are all still for a minute.
Rising I brush my hand over her shoulder, squeezing it lightly as an indication of support and comfort, “I’ll get dinner now so you can get on the road. When you are all packed let me know and I’ll get your bags.” She nods, watching Meggie, and pats my hand before I head to the kitchen.
Seconds tick by before I hear Meggie’s voice, “I guess he wasn’t going to disobey orders to see me after all.” Her inexperience makes her uncertain how to assess this action. “I guess that’s a good thing. I underestimated him,” I glance through the doorway as she looks down, then back at her Mother, checking to see if they are okay.
“It was a very good thing, Meggie, and you’re right, he wasn’t. You should feel very honored,” Mac informs her.
“I should?” Meggie has a little difficulty understanding this. She’s had a solid upbringing, but she isn’t entirely unaffected by popular romantic concepts.
“Yes, you must be very important to him. No man who truly cares about a woman would compromise her,” she tells her daughter.
“That’s how Dad treated you, isn’t it?” she asks. It’s not my intention to eavesdrop, but they are only in the next room.
“Yes Meggie, your father always treated me with honor and great respect,” Mac answers.
Meggie is quiet for a moment before she asks, “And Harm? Was he always honorable?”
“Yes, he was, always. Neither your father nor Harm ever lost sight of their honor. You should always remember that as you meet people. No matter what else a man may be, without honor he is nothing,” Mac tells her daughter.
A few minutes later I watch Mac and Meggie walk down the hall to their room, arms around each other, followed by their ever present companion...
The Pier
As my thoughts drift back to the present, I make a decision and walk to the little coffee shop across the Market square.
End of thirty two
Mobius Strip
The Pier
As my thoughts drift back to the present, I make my decision and walk to the little coffee shop across the Market square.
The pain in my heart from watching her leave my bed and walk away from my home an hour ago is alleviated only slightly by the fact that she didn’t pack up her family and drive away. Whatever is bothering her, she’s still here and that gives me hope it isn’t fatal to our relationship. If I can talk to her, we can solve it, I’m convinced of that now. I won’t give up easily.
Purchasing two cups of her favorite blend, I have a dab of chocolate added to hers. I’ve noticed whenever she’s down it comforts her, even when it doesn’t really solve anything.
After she left, I couldn’t think of what to do. I didn’t want to let her leave. I wanted to pull her back, and hold her close, afraid of what was happening. But I also knew going after her immediately would be a mistake. She needed space to sort out something, and I gave it to her. However, I have no intention of giving her so much space she slips away as in the past. Whatever this is, we will resolve it this morning.
I wasn’t sure where she had gone, but I knew she was somewhere in this small, old section of town. I discovered her sitting at the end of the pier, as I walked back from a morning run on the Academy track. Maybe I needed a little space too. Space to clear my head and figure out how to handle my side of this. Our future is much too important to consign to the vagaries of my unprepared thought processes.
The workout helped me sort the important from the chaff, and the heart of the matter is that what we had last night, what we said, and the feelings we experienced were real. They were soul deep and driven by nothing more than a need and desire to be together. I know I wanted her. I wanted her badly. I have for a long time, but I didn’t pressure her. I would never do that. I love her too much. Recounting every detail of every moment, I’m certain I did not overstep any invitation nor misread any signal. Her responses were genuine, her words heartfelt. I only wonder if what she didn’t say is just as important.
Saturday 2120
Meggie didn’t accompany Mac on her quest this week, opting instead to spend the time upstairs with Shannon and Amanda, doing whatever girls do before a big party. Duke and I used the time to do minor spring repairs around the house. I did the repairs and he supervised from the nearest shade. We stopped only to make a quick run to a local pizza parlor for the girls’ lunch. The three of them refused to exit their room claiming they weren’t fit for public view. I’ve never understood how women can spend an entire day looking terrible in order to make themselves beautiful for a date.
A month ago, Mac devoted her weekend to our girls, leading a marathon-like shopping trip for new dresses. They heralded her efforts as a complete success. I became increasingly concerned when evening crept near and she hadn’t returned, that she would miss the results of her efforts. However, she made it back in plenty of time for the obligatory oohs and aahs, the compliments, and the photographs, that go with an important occasion like this. Resplendent in their new gowns, our daughters left the house shortly after 1900 to meet Eric, Robert, and Austin at a restaurant in town, before going to the Academy for the dance.
With four thousand middies and graduates loose in town with their dates, taking Mac out to dinner didn’t seem the best plan. Besides, I knew she would be tired and probably disheartened again, so I prepared one of her favorite meals and had it awaiting the finishing touches when she returned.
After dinner, and some comfortable but decidedly inconsequential small talk, she said she wanted to take a shower. With a wry comment, she mentioned that searching for a terrorist in a foreign desert had nothing on house hunting in the sticky heat of early summer.
She’s been in her room for over half an hour, so long I’ve nearly given up hope that she intends to return. I know that Marine, it’s never taken her longer than fifteen minutes to shower in her life. I wonder if she is going to simply stay in there all night. Does she have reservations about being here with me alone? I think this time I’ve been clear about my intentions, what I want for us, but I’ve given no indication I would be unwilling to follow her lead. She mentioned in February that I shouldn’t hesitate too long, but maybe it’s something she's not ready to face just yet.
A few minutes ago I made myself a small drink. It sits on the windowsill in front of me untouched, the ice turning with a soft clunk as it melts in the sultry warmth of the early summer evening. It was something to do, but I don’t really want it, I want her. I want all of her, the whole package. I want to combine our families, and Eric’s reserve notwithstanding, I’ve had no indication that any of our children disapprove. I love her and I want her. The refrain repeats itself in my head with every breath. Leaning against the wall, I gaze out over the darkened harbor littered with tiny white shadows. The moonlight plays tag over them as they bob gently to the water’s movement.
She’d returned earlier hot, tired, and obviously just as unsuccessful as last week. Real estate prices have skyrocketed since she bought the home in Virginia nineteen years ago. They’ve risen substantially in the eight years since I bought this house. Even on a General’s pension, and figuring a possible supplemental retirement income, she will take quite a pay hit when she retires. She won’t easily find a place that will make a good home for her and Meggie.
Her few options include selling her home in Virginia and buying one in the small crowded subdivision on the west side of Annapolis. It’s a possibility, but I’d like to avoid her thinking about it, it’s too far away, too permanent and completely unlike what she’s accustomed to. Besides, I know she has her heart set on giving her home to one of the children to raise their own family when the time comes. The other options are either settling for a much smaller place than she wanted on this side of Annapolis, or compromising on the neighborhood. A smaller place will leave her cramped and unhappy in an apartment little bigger than her old place in Georgetown. The choice of neighborhood is one I’ll fight her on.
The sound of the ice shifting in my glass pulls me back. I give up and reach for the drink when a soft movement alerts me to her presence. I turn to find her outlined against the light from the kitchen. Instantly, any desire for the glass of liquid is forgotten.
“Mac!?” I breathe her name stupidly, as if it could be anyone else.
“Would you rather be alone?” she asks nodding to the glass.
“No,” I brush it aside, more a gesture of dismissal than actual movement. “I…I thought you….that maybe you weren’t coming back…that you would stay in your room,” I stumble.
She looks at her bare toes for a moment, hesitating noticeably, then candidly meets my eyes. “I guess I wasn’t sure either, Harm,” she sighs, stepping forward into the now dark sunroom. I see a slight shift of her body as she takes a deep breath, apparently finding comfort in her decision to return.
“It hasn’t been easy has it? The house hunt, I mean,” I ask sympathetically, relieving the unspoken pressure.
“No.” She shakes her head, again studying her toes. “No, I won’t be able to do it the way I thought,” she admits.
“I guess prices have changed a bit,” I tell her, my mouth dry. How can I make the offer I want without appearing to take advantage of her misfortune?
“Yes, they have a little. I mean, I’d expected it, even started thinking about where I would retire. That place in Virginia is too big for one person,” she admits. “It’s just this area is a little higher than I realized.”
“Hmmm,” I nod. I need some kind of opening. “Will you have to sell your house?” I probe further, hoping not.
“No, nothing like that, Harm. The income alone will pay most of my monthly rental on an apartment here. Just a smaller one than I’d like. With Meggie going to Colorado, traveling to visit her will be expensive. That’s why I need to keep my budget down. If I wanted to buy something, I could always tap Victor’s insurance money. I just had other plans for that money. It’s there to help the children when they’re ready to settle down. I didn’t really want to use it for my living expenses,” she adds facts I hadn’t even considered.
The information hits me like a ton of rocks. She would have been paid by the government, he was killed in the line of duty, and doubtless they had private insurance as well. She isn’t without resources, she just has solid reasons for wanting things a certain way. I had the impression the first time I visited her home that she and Victor had kept their life in very good order. This puts everything into a different perspective.
Instead of appearing to take advantage of her miscalculation, I can simply offer an alternate solution. Not for the first time though, I wonder if I’m demonstrating overweening arrogance to think I can offer her anything.
“In any case,” I hear her continue, “Tomorrow I’ll look a little further out, or reexamine some of the neighborhoods I’ve already visited.”
“No!!!” comes out explosively. I have no control over the reaction, it’s just automatic.
“Excuse me?” she looks more puzzled than offended.
“Sorry, Mac, but no. No compromising on neighborhood, I won’t have it,” I put my foot down. I have no idea where I gathered the brass to address her like this. Mostly fear, I would guess.
She raises her eyebrow a little, but she still doesn’t really look angry. Then she sighs, “I think after the last two weeks I’d just stay where I am, but I’ve already agreed to lease the house to Cary and Barb,” she informs me.
“I’d really rather you were closer, Mac,” I tell her, my voice softening.
She nods and looks out the window, “There’s a nice little complex I looked at last weekend. It’s about ten miles from here, but that’s not far.”
“No, I mean closer,” I turn towards her, nudging the edges of her personal space.
“Harm, there just isn’t any…” then she feels it and looks up at me. “Closer?” she asks on a low breath, “How much closer?”
“Here, Mac. Stay here,” my breathing stops. There, I finally said it.
“Here? Harm you don’t have to…” I can’t quite tell from her words what she’s thinking.
“It’s not what I have to do. It’s what I want to do, Mac,” I coax gently.
“Why now?” Her question is a momentary distraction.
“It’s not just now, I wanted it all along, but you seemed set on a place of your own. You still have options, but I’m asking because this is what I want. I want you here,” I tell her, decisive and undeterred.
“Me, and Meggie, and Duke? Here?” she confirms.
“That’s right. Here,” I tell her, adjusting myself a bit closer.
“In…in your guestroom, Harm?” Is she still looking for clarification?
“If that’s what you want, but this place has plenty of rooms,” I offer. Just getting her here will be a start, but she surprises me.
“Is that what you want, Harm?” She turns towards me, closing the space until our bodies almost touch.
“No,” is the only word my dry mouth can form. Can this really be happening? I swallow hard forcing a pathway for the rest of the words. “No, I want you with me,” I search her eyes. She looks startled, but not surprised. “I love you, you know that. I was trying to wait, to be patient Mac, but I’m not going to wait so long I lose my chance. It may be too soon, but…. hrmmf,” her lips are on mine and I can’t say anything else. I can barely breathe.
My surprise lasts only a second before my response to her takes control, and I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her against me. I give myself over to the kiss, returning everything she started and inventing more. My lips graze over hers again and again, tasting and touching.
Parting only far enough to form her name, “Oh Mac,” I continue, caressing her lips with mine, nibbling at her mouth, teasing with the tip of my tongue, inviting hers to play. Her answer to my invitation nearly shatters my control. When she slides the warm, wet tip of her tongue against my lower lip, my entire body swells in response. I alternately pull her close then move my hands aimlessly up and down her back. My hands tangle in her hair then leave to trace her spine, landing below her waist. Pressing her into me, my thumbs stroke up her sides brushing the edges of her breasts, her quickened breathing signals her reaction. Smiling inwardly, I allow my hands to slide down again to wrap her waist. All the while, my lips and tongue are reinventing everything I ever knew about kissing a woman, delving deeper and deeper.
Pulling her closer to me, my need is to surround her. I know she can feel my desire beneath the light summer fabric of our clothes. She doesn’t resist, instead her arms encircle my neck and she stretches the length of her body in full contact with mine, increasing the pressure, slowly moving against me. If possible, I hold her even tighter, matching her movements, kissing her more deeply. Succumbing to an irresistible urge, I wrap her in my arms and lift her from the floor, leaning against the wall for support.
My head is beginning to spin from the sensation; I feel myself succumbing to a fog of passion as my remaining brain function calculates the success of taking her right here. Forcing myself to think through the mist of desire, I gently, reluctantly, lower her back so her feet touch the floor, and we part just far enough to find each other’s eyes. The silent conversation between her warm brown pools and my sea green ones leave little room for doubt.
“We aren’t going to do this here, are we Harm?” she asks breathlessly, a teasing smile softens her face, as impishly she reads what little is left of my mind. “We need someplace more comfortable, I’m getting a little old for hardwood floors,” she murmurs.
I return the smile ruefully, “And I’m a little too old to carry you up the stairs, but I think we can make it together. What do you think?” I raise my eyebrows suggestively to the floor above. “There’s a room up there you haven’t seen yet.”
“Are you inviting me up to see your painting?” she flirts charmingly.
My head falls back as a full laugh escapes from deep in my chest. Turning into the house, I pull her tight against my side. “Not even,” I tell her as I hit the light switch in the kitchen. “You’re going to be much too busy to worry about paintings,” I promise in my softest voice, my lips nuzzling her ear.
Duke is lying on the rug by the front door waiting for Meggie’s return. He barely lifts his eyes as we start up the stairs. His head flops back to the floor in comfortable disregard as I stop halfway up the steps and pull her into another deep kiss, savoring every moment and every touch of her. My brain again convinces my body that we need to continue to some place more practical, and I turn us towards the upper landing.
As we reach my door I push it open and turn to her, “I’m not too old for this, though.” I bend quickly, scooping her into my arms, and carry her inside. It’s something I’ve dreamed of doing since the first day I laid eyes on her, and it was a staple of my fantasies until they became an impossibility. Now the fantasy is about to become our reality.
I shove the door and it drifts shut on heavy, well-oiled hinges, closing silently as I walk to the bed. Allowing her to slide to the floor, I search her face, “Mac, are you sure?” I suddenly wonder if I’ve been too strong, too forceful.
“Getting cold feet, sailor?” she asks, her simmering eyes and throaty voice vibrate deep in my core.
“Sweetheart, there isn’t a cell in my body that’s cold right now,” I growl and pull her hard against me, then surprise her with a soft, tender, just barely there kiss. I feel a tremor run through her, and smile secretly knowing I’ll be able to please her. Continuing the light feathery kiss I wait for the moment when I feel her knees weaken and her body soften against me. Pulling back, I look deep into her eyes, and with the most serious tone I can muster I tell her, “But I can only do this under one condition.”
She frowns slightly, “I…I don’t understand. What….?”
“You have to make an honest man of me. Marry me, Mac,” I ask her, blessing the full moon that allows me to see every feature in her beautiful face. For a fleeting moment, I see a pale shadow fly over her expression before she grins and pokes me in the chest.
“Just try to get out of it, Navy,” she teases, lifting her face for another kiss.
I know the smile of happiness that lights my face rivals the full moonlight. I take her gently to the surface of the bed. Lovingly we unfold the pure unhurried delight of kissing and touching, forcing our fires to burn low as we savor each moment. Slowly exploring the landscape of each other, our clothing disappears one piece at a time. Her soft sounds, unbridled movements, and my name whimpering on her lips indicate her pleasure with me, and I discover she’s more of a treasure than my imagination ever anticipated. Somewhere in the middle of the night when we wake and revisit our love, I realize I’ve given her more of my heart and soul than I’ve ever given anyone.
God help me, but she was always the one I wanted most, and I won’t risk losing her now.
I know what happened before, and I know how it happened.
I won’t let it happen again….
Walking up behind her, I hand her the cup with her favorite coffee. Judging by the set of her shoulders, it’s apparent that whatever bothers her hasn’t found a solution. She takes the cup without surprise, barely looking up. I almost believe she was expecting me.
“What are you doing here, Harm?” she asks, returning her gaze to the water.
“Bringing you coffee,” I wave my hand vaguely. “What are you doing here?” I force my voice to remain casual in spite of the knots in my stomach.
“Couldn’t sleep,” she shrugs. “How did you know I was here?”
“I always know where you are,” I smile faintly, referencing a long ago ability. She briefly glances up at me in mildly amused disbelief. “I saw you leave. You walked this way,” I explain.
“You were awake?” she looks surprised
“Yes,” is about all I can say around the hurt. Something had driven her to move from the warmth we’d found. I’m certain it wasn’t anything that happened last night, but she left saying nothing. My newly ordered thoughts remind me this is probably more about her than about me. Her actions are deeply disturbing, but as upset as I am, I’m still not altogether surprised. Something has continued to bedevil her for a while, I just can’t figure out what it is, and last night she seemed so certain. I think I allowed myself to believe she had resolved her dilemma.
“Why….why didn’t you say anything?” She inquires.
“I almost did until I saw you dressing. You seemed so intent on leaving I thought it better to say nothing.” I have to work to keep my voice level, to keep my words neutral. It’s the only way she will talk to me. Historically, when Mac is stressed she runs, and I overreact. It sometimes took us years to get over the fallout in the past, and in the last case we didn’t find our way back in time. I can only control me and I intend to see we don’t repeat that mistake. If I remain calm and reasonable, perhaps she will stop running.
“I see,” she nods. “I’m sorry, I had to think,” she explains without explanation.
“I didn’t mean to upset you, Mac. Maybe I moved too fast. I’m sorry if….” I don’t believe this, but it’s what she feels that counts.
“Are you withdrawing the offer?” she asks, just a little sharply. Okay that wasn’t it.
“No,” I answer without hesitation. “Never. You can refuse, you can accept, you can negotiate the parameters, or you can just ignore me, but the offer stays. We can try to go back to the way things have been if you’re not ready for this step,” I offer. “But I’m not backing away again, not this time. Not unless you flat refuse me. I will give you all the time you need to be comfortable, though.”
She seems so torn. I’m wondering just how much our former failed relationship is bothering her. Does she think it’s a mistake to try again? It might not have been the right time then, but we’ve changed. A lot of the things that got in our way aren’t part of us anymore. Does she distrust our ability to do this?
“I….I had some things to sort out,” she tries to clarify, as she stares intently across the water. Then something occurs to me.
“Is this where you come to talk to him?” I ask softly, sipping my coffee. I do understand the need to make contact with someone lost to you. If she chooses to live in the past it will break my heart, but there’s nothing more I can do.
“Yes. He’s out there somewhere. We were best friends too, just like…that is...the water….is the only place I’ll ever have,” she finishes with a deep sigh. I understand that feeling. The plot in Arlington is just there for appearances, and deep-sea recovery of a crash-site can take years. In this case, they may never continue the operation now that they have a conviction.
“Do you think he would disapprove?” My mouth is dry, and my heart beats in my throat as I voice my fear. This is my one insurmountable barrier. The one I have no hope of scaling if it exists.
“No, I don’t think so Harm….no….I’m sure he wouldn’t,” she shakes her head. “I would never have wanted him to remain alone. I don’t think he would want that loneliness for me. No, it’s me. It’s something I can’t sort out. It’s hard to explain.” She is still confused by an ill-defined puzzle in her mind or heart. I’m not getting through to her on some level. Then an icy thought runs through me.
“Would it be better if I wasn’t me, Mac? If I was someone else?” I ask intuitively.
“I don’t know, maybe that’s it,” she responds vacantly, sorting through her thoughts like a messy drawer. “It seems like…like going back…inside I feel…if I love you, Harm...if I allow myself these feelings…it will invalidate what we had…Victor and I…if I…if I…” she looks up, as soft tears slowly spill over, tracing patterns down her cheeks. “I can’t figure this part out Harm. Help me,” comes almost in a whimper.
I squat down beside her, touching her shoulder to gently turn her fully towards me. Cupping her face, I brush at the drops of moisture. “Listen to me, Mac. There’s nothing I can do that will ever invalidate what you had with Victor. It’s too strong. I’m not trying to replace him, I can’t do that either. What you had will always live in your heart, and it should, for your children, and for you. You have to keep that, it’s part of who you are now. But the part of your heart that’s free, the part that needs to live and be loved I’ll accept gladly.”
She just stares at me, her huge brown eyes swimming behind more unshed pools.
“You know, Mac, the more I’ve thought of it….the more I think about that time long ago…it just wasn’t right for us,” I continue, stroking her cheek. “No matter what we did, we couldn’t make it work. So there’s nothing invalid about the happiness you found, nor mine either. It’s a wonderful thing. Your children are clear evidence of the solid love they grew up with.”
“If there was any way I could bring what you had back to you I would, but I can’t. I can only offer to take care of you from now on, if you’ll have me,” I finish, giving her face a final brush with my fingertips, and releasing her with a soft caress.
She doesn’t answer. Turning her face, she looks out to sea for several minutes. Finally, I rise and prepare to leave her. She hasn’t said no, but her lack of answer may be clear. I take a step or two back, and turn to go when I hear my name
“Harm?” I look back. “Thank you for understanding,” she says. I nod and turn again.
“Harm, please?” I turn back at the sound of her voice, more than the words. She starts to rise and I offer my hand.
“I’d….uh…I think…I mean…I want that…to be with you… if the offer is still good. I want to…I love you, Harm.” My heart races at hearing the words ‘I love you’. That’s what’s been missing. For all the times I told her, she never returned it, not even last night. She takes half a step closer. The corners of her mouth tremble, trying a smile, but it’s a little weak.
“It’s good forever,” I reply. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m sure. What you said just now, it makes sense. I’d never thought of it that way. It was the part I could never figure out. What we had then didn’t work,” she says shaking her head in wonder. “Maybe it would never have worked then,” she’s just put the final piece into place. “This is new, isn’t it Harm? It may have started as the old friendship, but what we have now is all new. The trust, the friendship, the companionship all comes from then, but the love, this love, this time, that’s brand new because something about us is new. We’re different now.” Her face clears as she looks at me.
“Yes, it is,” I agree gently. “It’s what I told Meggie in the beginning.”
“Meggie?” She raises her eyebrows.
“Yeah.” I scuffle one foot on the faded boards of the pier. “She accused me of still being in love with you. I told her she was wrong. I wasn’t still in love with you. That was over long ago, but I was having no difficulty falling in love with you all over again. Mac when you left my office a year ago you took my heart with you. I’m not saying it was love at first sight any more than the first time, but if you hadn’t returned…when I found you in August…I’m not sure I’m even making sense.” I watch the play of emotions over her face.
Taking another step closer she looks up at me. The bright morning sun sparkles on the water, lighting her face with dancing shadows. “Yes, you are,” she agrees. “Now I see. It isn’t the same at all. All the stuff that messed us up before is here, but it’s not working that way any more. Even though it seems familiar, it is all new. The love I feel for you is different. It’s still exciting, but more….comfortable… more right….not all awkward, and unsettled, and uncertain, like it was then.”
She takes the last half a step to me, reaching up to wrap her arms around my neck. I fold her into my arms, pulling her close, holding her like a lifeline. In a fit of pure joy, I lift her and spin her around on the wide pier before setting her back on her feet. We stand there for several long minutes, holding each other in a deep warming embrace. Releasing her reluctantly I search her face for what I want to see. Her eyes penetrate my soul, and I fall deep into hers as the sun of a new summer morning mixes with the warm glow of our love.
Then, in full daylight, in front of God and anyone who cares to see, I slowly lower my lips to hers and share with her a very serious, and very thorough kiss.
Pulling back a long moment later, I wrap my arm around her still slim waist. “Shall we?” I suggest, turning her down the wharf towards town. “How do you feel about breakfast?” I inquire. “You pick the place.”
“Actually,” she replies, “I’d love to have one of your omelets, but I get to make the coffee,” she bargains as we walk.
“It’s a deal,” I agree. “Shall we wake the girls when we get back?” We turn towards my place….soon to be our place.
“I don’t think we have to, Harm.” She points to where her daughter is standing by the seawall, a deceptively sweet faced dog tucked against her side. “I think she’s been watching us.”
I look in that direction and see a fretful teenager waiting impatiently to find out what we’ve decided. I flash a huge smile to signal the success of our conversation, and raise my other arm to pull Meggie close as she rushes to join us.
“So does this mean you’re in love with him, too?” she asks, leaning forward to look at Mac.
“Yes, Meggie, I’m in love with him too,” she answers her daughter, but looks at me.
“Super,” Meggie responds with a contented grin. “I guess we’re engaged then, huh?” she looks up at me.
“Mac?” I turn to let her answer that question.
“Yes, Meggie,” she answers softly. “Yes, it does. How do you feel about living at Harm’s house with him? It will take a little while to plan a wedding, even a small one.”
“Perfect,” Meggie answers with satisfaction. “Hear that Duke? We get to live with Harm.” She ruffles the top of the dogs head.
We stroll home at a comfortable pace, although I can feel Meggie fidgeting anxiously under my arm. Mac and I are sharing a moment of gentle bonding, perhaps deeper and more meaningful than last night. Not that I would avoid returning to that activity, but I always knew if we got it right our relationship would share softer times of quiet comfort to accent the wilder moments of abandoned passion.
When we reach the front porch Meggie can stand it no longer and bounds up the steps with Duke at her heels, all a tangle of legs and bushy tail. Diving through the door, they shoot up the stairs in a race for Shannon’s room, making enough noise to wake the dead never mind my sleepy-head daughter. I hold the door for Mac, but her hand on my arm stills me, and I turn to face her. The smile of contentment lighting her face is all I need to reassure me.
“Harm,” she begins almost shyly.
“What is it Mac?” I’m not exactly concerned, but certainly more than curious.
“Do you think later… that is maybe tonight…would you show me your painting again?” The look in her eye twinkles merrily, revealing a faint anxious hesitation for my response. I’m sure she feels my trepidation as my eyebrow lifts slightly. “I promise this time I won’t run away, Harm,” she looks a little more serious.
“I’d love to show you my painting,” I murmur, encircling her with my arm and bending to capture her lips.
I heave a happy sigh, and squeeze her a little tighter. She leans against me, and I realize as we enter ‘our home’ together for the first time, that finally all the twists and turns in our life have brought us back around to each other.
This time it’s right for us.
End
Mobius Strip
August 8, 2024
Mac insisted the wedding be small and private. I insisted we have the wedding in this chapel. I guess men don’t usually think of such things, but when I first attended the academy I vowed if I ever married the woman of my dreams, it would be here.
For a few years I thought that woman would be Diane, then for years I hoped it would be Mac. When I finally found myself with Catherine….well, nothing about the relationship happened according to any plan. Now Mac has returned to me, and so has the dream.
After that morning on the pier, it took two weeks to begin settling our life together. Finally, Meggie was out of school, and all the arrangements of moving or storage of personal belongings could be accomplished. Mac stored most of her furniture in the guest cottage above the garage, bringing only her personal belongings and her paleontology collection. Meggie’s school records were transferred, and she asked to bring her own bedroom furniture. She liked the room she and Mac had used on their visits, so it became hers. It’s the only lower level room to face the harbor.
Though Mac had ample opportunities to see my painting, she never actually looked at it until one weekend in June when we did housekeeping chores. While making the bed together, she suddenly stopped and inspected the incredible portrayal created by my daughters. Stunned, she commented that it was a shame it wasn’t in a room where everyone could see it.
After thinking about it and conferring with Shannon, we placed it on a wall in the library /office, directly in line with the door that was always left open. Everyone who entered our home could see it by looking to their right. Often, our friends reacted to it, losing track of greetings, drawn to the fascinating work. On a wall in the living room hung a large group painting of the entire family, again compliments of Shannon’s uncanny imagination and her ability to take various photographs and combine them into a posed group. Shannon presented us with a special companion piece at the rehearsal dinner last night. A painting of Mac and me in our dress uniforms, copied from a snapshot taken at her retirement party in June.
The surprise of that ceremony, and following banquet, was who had attended and who had not. I shouldn’t have been surprised to see Sturgis and Varese. We’d regained our friendship when he worked with me in San Diego. Prior to that, he had served in the Pacific fleet as a battle group JAG.
After Varese was offered a small but comfortable recording contract with an eclectic little studio, they finally married. Sturgis requested a transfer to San Diego and became my second in command. When I lost Catherine, I decided to take my family and the remainder of my career to this small old town where I could find comfort and peace. On my recommendation, Sturgis was promoted to the Command.
He’d left HQ shortly after Cresswell took over, and served in the Med for a few years. Eventually, he reported to Mac in Naples. He knew of Mac and Victor’s life together, although they’d only met briefly when he worked at JAG. During his time there, he had renewed his friendship with Mac as well. It was rather unsettling to find out just how closed mouth that man can be. I have occasionally wondered why he never mentioned it to me. Perhaps he simply didn’t know what I wanted to hear.
Also in attendance were Mattie and her husband. She had come so close to being the catalyst to bringing Mac and I together, but there again, instead she had been the wedge that pushed us apart. In thinking over our behavior towards each other at that time, I had to shake my head wondering how we could be so smart at our jobs dealing with the heavy issues of other people’s lives, and so very dumb dealing with our own.
With heartfelt warmth, we greeted Commander Jason Tiner and his wife Jennifer. Yes, that Jennifer. Stationed together at Bellingham several years after Jason graduated, they’d nearly made the same mistake as Mac and me. But their CO, a strong willed woman, had alerted to the tension and told them flat out, either make a decision about the relationship, or she was shipping one of them out on the next transport. Smart woman. Jennifer immediately resigned, and they were married in Jason’s hometown three months later.
Mac and I were especially honored by the presence of two former JAGs. Admiral Chegwidden USN retired, had found a new career in his beloved baseball, coaching a farm team for the DC Nationals. General Cresswell USMC, had found a final assignment managing the Marine’s international boxing team.
More interesting in their absence were Bud and Harriet. When her children’s school activities brought her in contact with the social strata she’d grown up with, Harriet had taken to upscale Virginia social life like a duck to water. After hinting strongly on a regular basis that this or that wife had a husband who’s firm was looking for an attorney, Bud finally decided it would be a great idea to leave the Navy and earn what he was really worth.
Bud was miserable but Harriet was happy, and giving her credit, when Harriet was happy she found ways to make Bud happy. This personal happiness had resulted in two more children. At least his home life was pleasant when he had time for it. The upshot of this climb up the ladder of success was that Harriet found no comfortable place in her circle of friends for an officer who had ‘married beneath her’. In her single-minded quest to direct her family’s future, Harriet had become her mother. After Bud left the service, he gave up even trying to keep in contact.
I asked Mac about this later and she told me that after the birth of the twins Harriet had seemed distant. When I asked her why, she told me what happened in the hospital, and the evident discomfort later. She reluctantly revealed the struggle she and Victor experienced keeping their growing attraction under control, and the fact that after their marriage was announced there were a few who never believed they’d avoided violating procedure. Apparently, Harriet had been one of them. She explained this hesitantly at first, uncertain how I would react, but it surprised me how thrilled I was to hear she’d found so much love. After the disastrous end of our friendship I’d worried about her for years, though I had no legitimate reason to inquire about her.
Just as hesitantly, I explained how I developed my relationship with Catherine, admitting the casual comfort of it at first, then the growing emotion, as I believed Mac was lost to me forever. Crying happy tears for each other’s joy, and frustrated ones for the mistakes we made, we ended up closer for opening and treating those ancient wounds. Now they could heal clean and leave us with a clear path for our future.
The most remarkable guests to attend the celebration were the three mothers: mine, Victor’s, who had adopted Mac as her own, and Porter Webb. Somehow, though unconventional, we had gathered an extended family. The interpersonal relationships were solidified by loving and caring rather than DNA, but for all of us it worked.
With our children leading the way, these special people were the first to rise to their feet, cheering and applauding in response to Mac’s answer when asked about her plans after retirement. She flashed her ring and said ‘I’m going to marry an old and very dear friend’, then took my hand and pulled me beside her. The stunned members of the gathering could do nothing but follow the enthusiasm of our special circle.
On this late summer evening, our children and family are gathered with these special friends. They are here to join us in a celebration of our vows to love and care for each other for all the time that God allows us.
The chapel is filled to overflowing with flowers of every variety. The scent of them is heady in the evening warmth. Sunlight slants through the stained glass windows casting warm blue reflections on every surface.
Mac walks to me dressed in a gown of white but not white. It’s an indefinable color, like a deep summer cloud reflecting the soft glow of our love. The girls wear a special shade of blue, complimenting their varied complexions, and blending agreeably with the interior of the old church. The myriad shades of the hue, from sea, to sky, to midnight represent the tranquility we have found in our love for each other. Shannon serves Mac as her maid of honor and Eric performs the duties of best man. That this arrangement was Eric’s idea startled everyone. Mac said it was his way of showing his approval.
The simple traditional ceremony is finished and the guests are milling outside waiting for us to finish the formal portraits. Tirelessly, the photographer and his assistant move lights and arrange clothing, fussing over the placement of a hand here, a foot there, the tilt of the head, or turn of the body. Every tie is unnecessarily straightened; every fold of a gown is displayed to perfection as members of the wedding party and family moved in and out of place. Tiring of the endless procedure, we breathe a sigh of relief when the time arrives for the family photo. Our girls are arrayed to one side of us, and the boys on the other.
Holding our pose as the portrait is captured, the man behind the camera requests just one more time, when Mac sways towards me and whispers, “If anyone starts singing ‘Edelweiss,’ they’ll answer to a Marine.”
The photograph that hangs over our bed is the second copy. It shows Mac pulled tight against me, our faces alight with laughter as we gaze into each other’s eyes, while our children look on in stunned amusement.
The End
Author: Karen
Disclaimers: For any and all borrowing of copyright or trademarks used by my Harm and Mac dolls, I’m just playing. If I had any money, I’d have my roof fixed.
Part Twenty-Six
Late Afternoon
Galindez residence
Alexandria, VA
Two hours later
JAG HQ
Office of General Galindez
Part Twenty-Seven ‘a’
US Naval Academy
Annapolis, MD
The Crab Shack
Annapolis Harbor
Near Mac’s home
1915
Part Twenty-Seven ‘b’
Mac’s home
1930
Part Twenty-Eight
Rabb Residence
Annapolis, MD
Part Twenty- Eight
US Naval Academy
Annapolis MD
Part Thirty
Mac’s home
Annapolis MD
Mac’s Home
Mac’s home
Part 31
March 30, 2024
Emergency Room
Whispering Pines Animal Hospital
Whispering Pines, Virginia
Annapolis, MD
0645 Sunday
May 26, 2024
Part Thirty-Two
Annapolis MD
Sunday 0645
May 26,2024
Annapolis, MD
Thursday 2127
May 16, 2024
Annapolis, MD
Friday 1857
May 17, 2024
Annapolis, MD
Sunday 1620
May 19, 2024
Annapolis MD
Sunday 0645
May 26,2024
Thirty-Three
Annapolis MD
Sunday 0645
May 26,2024
May 25, 2024
Harmon Rabb’s home
Annapolis, MD
Epilogue
US Naval Academy Chapel
Annapolis, MD
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