The Visit
"Okay, Mats… I'll see you Monday… bright and early!" Harm grinned as he flipped the copper haired teenager a casual salute while at the same time he tucked his pay packet into the inside pocket of his motorcycle leather jacket.
"You sure?" the teenager demanded slightly tremulously. She still hadn't gotten over the shock of the reason behind Admiral Chegwidden's visit to the hangar yesterday, and knowing how much Harm missed the Navy she couldn't quite bring herself to believe that he had refused the older officer's offer to have him reinstated with no loss of service.
Her question, succinct as it was served to bring Harm to a halt as he started to stride to the old Indian motorcycle and cause him to spin back to face his boss. "Now why would you say that?" he asked, although he had a pretty good idea, despite her stone-face, of what Mattie was thinking.
"I can't help thinking that you want back in the Navy, and that mean old man has given you a way back in…" Mattie mumbled.
"Hey… I told you yesterday that I would never got back to the Navy if it meant serving under him, so what's with all the doubts?"
"Well…" Mattie shrugged uncomfortably and jammed her hands in her jeans pockets, "It's like you always say, 'people lie'."
Harm's expression turned serious, "Mattie Grace, I have never lied to you, and I swear I never will. So when I say I'll see you bright and early on Monday morning, then I'll see you bright and early on Monday morning! Capisce?"
"Yeah… I guess…" Mattie reluctantly conceded
"Good!" Harm gave the young girl another casual salute and turned back towards his motor cycle, confidently swinging a leg over the seat and a few seconds later, having secured his helmet, stamping down on the kick start.
Mattie stood at the hangar door for a few seconds as the Indian disappeared around the corner of the next hangar and then giving a sigh straightened her shoulders, "Hey, Mike! How about getting the doors closed and the hangar secure for the night?" she yelled.
"On it boss!" came a cheerful reply from the darkness of the hangar's interior, to be followed in a few seconds by the sight of Mike Fathers, one of the company ground crew, swinging the door winding gear casually from one hand.
"He gonna be back?" Mike asked.
Mattie didn't need to ask who 'he' was, so she just nodded, "Yeah, he'll be back," she affirmed, resolutely hiding her own doubts before she turned on her heel and making for the office, crossed the hangar floor, and despite the ample clearance, instinctively ducking her head as she passed under the wing of the DHC Beaver.
xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx-xxxxx
Harm woke up on Saturday morning in a sombre mood, and glanced at his wall calendar for confirmation… yes… the day was circled in red, which meant he had an obligation to fill. Nodding grimly to himself, he headed for the shower.
An hour later, showered, breakfasted and dressed in a charcoal grey suit and a plain necktie worn with a white shirt, he checked his reflection in the three-quarter length mirror just inside the apartment door and with a nod of acceptance at his appearance he left the apartment and took the stairs to the first floor.
Stepping outside, he was unable to repress a shiver. The weather was a pretty fine match for the day, he thought grimly, low, grey clouds and a chill northerly wind, the air damp and dank with the promise – or threat of rain to come – all in all just about fit for the self-appointed task that lay ahead.
He was long overdue in keeping this appointment, but the six months he had spent flying for the CIA hadn't left him much time to spare for other commitments, but now he had cut himself free, or rather he had been cut free – thanks to Webb – he had the opportunity and although he wasn't relishing the prospect of what he was about to do, he needed to do it.
These thoughts occupied his mind for the first few blocks as he piloted the silver Lexus through the DC traffic until he hit Georgia Avenue, where he stopped briefly to make a purchase before resuming his journey.
Following Georgia to the North he turned off the main route at the Petworth metro station and drove along Rock Creek Church until he reached his destination.
He pulled into one of the few parking slots and slid out from behind the wheel and set off along the footpath to his destination.
Although he hadn't been here for nearly four months, his feet seemed to remember the route and took him where he wanted to go almost without him having to think about it, but twenty feet from his final destination he stopped in surprise. It seemed he wasn't the only visitor here this morning, a slight figure, in dark pants and a beige car coat was on one knee, apparently pulling weeds from the ground.
"Jen?" Harm said quietly.
Legalman Petty Officer Second Class Jennifer Coates almost lost her balance as she tried to spin around and stand up at the same time.
"Sir!" she gasped in surprise.
"Not, 'sir', Jen. I'm not in the Navy any more, so 'Harm' will do just fine!" he replied reaching out to grasp her upper arm to steady her as she regained her balance. He managed a grin despite the pain his own words caused him, and to divert his thoughts away from that pain he smiled gently at Jen and nodded, "It was quite a surprise to see you here… I wouldn't have thought…"
Jen sobered on the instant and look down at the headstone almost at her feet, "No… I suppose it does seem a bit strange… but I did work with her aboard the Seahawk, and away from JAG… well, she still wasn't Miss Congeniality, but she was easier to get along with, maybe because she could run her own office in the way she wanted, and she certainly kept a tight ship. Lieutenant Roberts was good to work for, but sometimes he was almost too relaxed…"
"Yeah… but even that doesn't explain what you're doing here?"
"I try to get here once a month," Jen explained with a self-deprecating shrug, "it's not as if anyone else bothers, and yes, she could be a real witch, but she needs to be remembered, we all do. And she didn't deserve what happened to her, despite anything she may or may not have done – and her baby certainly didn't," she added in a husky whisper
"That's true," Harm agreed. "And it's about why I try to get here when I can…" he let his eye run along the simple inscription on the stone, 'Loren Maria Singer, Lieutenant USN, Daughter, Mother.'
Jen followed his eyes as they moved across the stone. "It ought to read 'sister' too," Jen said bitterly.
"How so?" Harm asked.
"The Admiral used to brag that JAG was a family. Well, if it was, then Loren Singer was a part of that family. She may have been wrong headed, stubborn, over ambitious and everything else people accused her of, but she was still a part of that family, and she should have been treated better, especially in death, after the way she was treated in life!" Jen gulped and impatiently dashed the threatening tears from her eyes, "Instead, she was abandoned, pretty much the way you were sir! You'd think that the Admiral would have learned from his past mistakes, but no, the stubborn old sonofa… I mean he just keeps ploughing ahead on the same old course!"
"Easy Jen, easy…" Harm cautioned her. Sure there was no one around to hear her insubordination, but he knew her well enough to know that once she had raised a head of steam she pretty much didn't care what she said to anybody.
"Oh… I'll be careful what I say around JAG," Jen assured him, rummaging in her purse for a Kleenex, and then favoured him with a watery smile, "But since you're not in the Navy any more… and I don't reckon I'll re-up, then I don't really mind what I say to you…"
"Here…" Harm's hand dipped into his pocket and brought out a crisply ironed and folded plain white handkerchief.
"Thanks…" Jen took the proffered article and wiped her eyes, and then saw to her horror that her eye make-up had run, "Oh… I'm sorry…I'll get that laundered, or replaced!" she gasped.
"Don't worry about it!" Harm reassured her and then he dropped to one knee, "Yours?" he asked quietly, indicating the posy of forest flowers in a bud vase.
Jen nodded.
Harm smiled and placed his own offering, a small spray of lilies, his en-route purchase, on Loren Singer's grave. He dropped one hand to the turf, as if that would help him communicate with her, "Rest easy, Lieutenant," he murmured only just loud enough for Jen to hear, "The watch stands relieved."
For some reason Harm's words tugged at Jen's heart strings and once again she had recourse to Harm's handkerchief.
Harm stayed on one knee for a few moments more, maybe Jen thought he was silently praying, or maybe he was just still trying to make sense out of the tragedy that had been Loren Singer's life. At last with a heavy sigh he brought himself back to his feet and looked at Jen. "Are you all done here?"
Jen nodded "Ready si… uh… Harm" and then drew herself up into a brief brace, her eyes dropping to focus once more on the headstone, "Until next time, ma'am." she said softly
Harm cleared his throat, and with a meaningful glance at the lowering sky said, "I reckon we're in for some rain. Come on, Jen, I'll walk you back to your car."
"No car," Jen shrugged. "It's in the shop in Falls Church. Damn thing wouldn't start yesterday afternoon."
"How did you get here this morning?" Harm asked in mild surprise.
"Oh… The metro to Petworth, and then walked up to the cemetery."
"Well… you can't walk back to Petworth. Not in this – you'll get soaked!" Harm said decisively, and with a second sour glance skywards, as he felt the first drops of cold rain strike his face. "Where do you live?"
"Fourth NE," Jen said innocently, "The stretch north of Florida, backed up against the railroad tracks. It's the only place we can afford…"
"We?" Harm asked.
Jen nodded, "Yeah, myself and three other Petty Offices. It's not a pretty sight when we're all trying to get ready for duty at the same time… but like I said, even with the rent split four ways, it's the best we can do… Unless we wanted to live in BEQ…" Jen's voice trailed off as she shuddered at the thought.
Harm smiled at the expression of distaste on Jen's face, "Well… hop in… I'll give you a ride," Harm offered.
"Oh, thanks, but it's okay. I don't want to take you out of your way…" Jen said firmly.
"But you're not. Taking me out of my way, I mean," Harm's smile broadened into a grin, even as the rain became heavier. "Come on, get in! I live on Fourth NE too, down on the eight hundred block!" he added by way of explanation
Jen cast one look up at the sky, which was now distinctly darker and surrendered, "Well, in that case, sir… Thanks!"
"Jen! No, sirs – remember?" Harm challenged the younger woman as he closed the car door for her, and hurried around the front of the Lexus so he could climb in behind the wheel.
"No, 'sirs'!" he repeated for emphasis, "I'm not in the Navy now!"
"Not now, but you should be! You will be!" Jen said fiercely. "We need you back at JAG!"
"The Admiral needs me back at JAG to take up the slack because the officer he drafted in to take my place screwed the pooch. Hell, he doesn't need me – all he needs is a warm body to review old cases!"
"I'm not talking about the Admiral!" Jen denied, "I don't really care what he thinks he needs or really needs! I'm talking about Lieutenant Roberts, Lieutenant Sims, Commander Turner, Colonel MacKenzie and… and… and me! We need you back at JAG, sir! Not just a warm body but you!"
Harm managed to conceal a pained grimace at the mention of Mac's name, but he shook his head, "I'm sorry, Jen, but that's not going to happen… No! Subject closed!" he warned the pretty brunette as she opened her mouth to argue.
Jen shut her mouth with an almost audible snap, "Aye, aye, sir!" she replied crisply.
"Jen! I've told you, I'm not in the Navy, I don't rate 'aye, ayes', or 'sirs', any more!"
"In that case, sir, you shouldn't give orders!" Jen retorted unrepentantly.
"Still as insub… Oh… no… I can't say that any more either!" Harm grinned as his sense of humour surfaced. That was something Jennifer Coates had always managed to do, from almost the very second he had met her she had always managed to make him see the ridiculous side of life. Harm shook his head and sighed, "Alright, I won't give any more orders… but are questions acceptable?"
"Of course!" Jen replied.
"In that case, how about a coffee?" Harm suggested.
Jen brushed her damp hair back off her face, "Now that sounds like a plan!" she agreed, "Where do you have in mind?"
"There's a little bistro place on the corner of Fifth NE and H that serves a reasonable brew, and we could probably get a biscotti if we asked nicely," Harm smiled.