A Different Kind of Healing
Chief Petty Officer Jennifer Coates, US Navy, stood silently with bowed head in the light summer drizzle, her uniform just slightly damp, and her cover tucked under her left arm, beads of moisture gathering on the coils of rich brown hair, dressed as it always was for duty, in a French Plait. Every year for the past four, at this time and in this place she stood looking and remembering and missing him. It seemed so little, just a grey granite stone, marked with his name and the dates of his birth and of his death. Her right hand stole in an unconscious gesture to the ring hanging on a slender gold chain around her neck that she wore under her uniform blouse.
She had disliked, almost hated him when they first met. His selfishly flippant dismissal of the wants and opinions of others, and his disregard for the concept of duty, even family duty, had infuriated her. In so many ways he had made her so mad at him. He had teased her and mocked her and loved her. He had very nearly made her love him. He had asked her to marry him, and after much soul searching she had, with sorrow for causing him pain, turned down his proposal. Nevertheless, he had taken her right hand, and slipped the ring with its single perfect diamond over her third finger, and had said, in his whimsical voice, "Jennifer, if you can't wear it as a token of our love, wear it as a token of our friendship." He had kissed her gently on the cheek and sat down again at the pavement-table at the little bistro on Saratoga Avenue and continued their conversation as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He was, he said, returning to Peru for about six weeks, and he'd try to call her from there, but the mines were in a blind spot for communications, and he might not be able to get through. He promised though that he would call her the second he got back to San Diego. Thankful for his graceful acceptance of her decision, she had smiled and said she'd expect it. They had left the bistro together and turned to go in their different directions, she had waved and he had smiled and said "ciao, cara mia." That was, she remembered, the last time she had ever heard his voice.
She had heard nothing further until that day four weeks after they parted. She had been at her desk, Yeoman to the newly-promoted Colonel Mackenzie-Rabb, attacking the hated statistical analysis report, and trying to keep out of the Colonel's line of sight. Mac as she was generally referred to in the office, but not in her hearing, had been in a foul mood. She was tired, her young son Matthew had been keeping her awake at nights, and a sleepless Mac was something everyone avoided if they could. Jen, as her Yeoman, was tied to her desk just outside Mac's office door and was inevitably the first person that Mac could, would and did take her temper out on. It was difficult though not to feel sympathy, Mac after a horribly difficult pregnancy had given birth prematurely to Matthew and the sight of Lieutenant Walker's huge bump, and even the slender Petty Officer Martinez's swelling abdomen, both glowing with the progress of text-book pregnancies had made her own trials harder to bear. A joke had run around the office for a very short time that Mac was leading by example; she had soon made it known that such jokes were likely to incur her displeasure. On that particular day, as on any day, the interruption to Jen's work by the 'phone on her desk was routine. Some days it seemed she had to spend three-quarters of her time with the receiver pressed to her ear. But the call had been from a secretary at the law firm of Adams, Bingley and Chalmers: was she speaking with a Miss Jennifer Coates? She was. Would it be convenient for Miss Coates to call upon Mr Chalmers this afternoon at half-past four? Yes, she could manage that. What did Mr Chalmers want with her? The secretary was not at liberty to discuss the matter, but she looked forward to meeting Miss Coates that afternoon.
The Offices of Adams, Chalmers and Bingley, Attorneys at Law, were in a prestigious high-rise in a prestigious area of San Diego's business district. Mr Chalmers' secretary was a tall, cool perfectly groomed and presented blonde in her mid twenties. The simple black long sleeved dress she was wearing probably cost the equivalent of six-months' of Jennifer's rent, she thought sourly. And although proud of the starched and sharply pressed uniform she was wearing, Jen felt slight shabby by comparison.
If she felt shabby, Mr Chalmers showed no indication of noticing shabbiness. He was courtesy itself, rising from behind his leather-topped desk as his secretary ushered Jen in to his office. The furniture, the fittings, even the hundreds of matching leather bound legal volumes shouted the presence of money - a lot of money.
"Miss Coates, I'm so glad you could come, please take a seat." His voice was deep, rich, mellow and welcoming. "You are, of course, wondering why I asked you to meet with me. And, if we may, I would like to address that subject shortly. But before we do, there are a couple of formalities we need to get out of the way. Firstly, I need you to confirm that you are Jennifer Alison Coates, Petty Officer, First Class, United States' Navy, born Hagerstown, Maryland to Arthur William Coates, Minister of Religion, and Alison Marie Coates, nee Johnson, February 14th, 1979, presently residing at apartment 5, twenty-four-thirteen Cape May Avenue, Ocean Beach, San Diego?"
"Yes, that's me." Jen said, surprised, where had he obtained all this personal information, and why had he obtained it?
"Ah, hot on the heels of my last question, this, I am afraid, will sound extremely indelicate, but may I ask if you can provide two forms of identification?"
Jen opened her purse and presented her California Driver Licence, complete with photograph and address and her Navy Identity Card. Mr Chalmers examined them, making sure that the laminations had not been tampered with, and after a minute or so handed them to an increasingly puzzled Jen.
"Thank you, Miss Coates, now we can turn our attention to that matter that compelled me to ask you to come here." He picked up a sheet of legal notes, "I must inform you that under the provisions of the last will and testament of our late client, Mr Miles Caldwell of Romero Drive, La Jolla, that you have been named as a beneficiary."
Jennifer felt a chill run through as she paled under her tan and interrupted in shocked exclamation "Miles! Miles Caldwell? Are you telling me that Miles Caldwell is dead?"
Chalmers interrupted his reading, "Yes. Oh, dear you didn't know?"
Jen could only shake her head numbly.
Chalmers eyed her uneasily and in an anxious voice, inquired, "Are you feeling unwell, can I get you a drink, a glass of water, perhaps?"
"No… no thank you" she replied still numb, still trying to absorb what he had said. And then "How?"
"We're not quite sure of all the details, Miss Coates, but it seems our client was flying between two of his mines, when the company plane crashed in the mountains. There were no survivors."
"When did this happen?"
"Ten days ago, Miss Coates, It took three days for the news to get to the Peruvian authorities, and another four days before their search aircraft found the crash site. Because our client was carrying his passport, his remains were sent to the US Embassy in Lima; he had some letters with him with his San Diego address, so the Embassy sent his personal effects on to the San Diego PD, and so eventually to us."
He was kind enough to let her sit for perhaps half a minute, before sliding an envelope across the desk towards her. "Under the terms of the will, Miss Coates, this is the bequest. You will see that it has your name subscribed upon it, and that it has not been tampered with since it has been sealed."
Jen took the envelope and stared blankly at it.
Mr Chalmers coughed. "I am instructed to request that you open the envelope immediately on receipt, and confirm to me the nature of its contents.
Jen found herself obeying his precisely worded instructions almost as if she was operating on auto pilot. The opened envelope held a cheque; she read it once, paused and read it again, and a third time. Through her renewed shock she realised that she had seen what she had thought seen; there was a '1' and 6 '0's. She opened and shut her mouth several times before speech would come.
"Mr Chalmers," she said shakily, "this is a cheque for a million dollars."
He smiled in satisfaction and consulted his notes once more. "That is correct, Miss Coates, congratulations on your windfall."
"I can't accept it." She had said with determination, and placed it on the desk in front of her.
"In that case, our client has left instructions that you should read this, also upon receipt."
Jen fumbled open the envelope, this one containing a single sheet of expensive writing paper. A letter in his handwriting and dated the day she had refused his proposal:
My Darling Jennifer,
If you are reading this, it is for two reasons. Firstly, my darling, I am dead; and secondly, you have refused that small token of my love that now is all I can give to you.
You refused to allow me look after you while I was there; please now, my once and forever love, allow me to look after you now I am gone.
If you don't want the money for yourself, accept it anyway. Put it into a trust fund for your children. You are a beautiful person, with a beautiful, warm, kind, loving heart and soul. You did not find what you were looking for in me, but I know that you will find it and him and then you will have beautiful children because of the person you are.
Don't cry for me; we had too much joy along the way together for tears now.
Goodbye my darling, my once and forever love.
Miles
Despite his injunction, she could not help the tears that had overflowed her eyes and had run silently down her cheeks. She had unwillingly accepted his bequest and placed it upon deposit as he suggested, against the time she would need it for her children. She did however allow the interest accruing to transfer into her chequing account and was honest enough with herself to admit that once Tim and Fran had married it was good to be able afford the rent without having to find and adjust to a new room-mate. It was good to be able to replace her old Ford Escort with a newer version. It was good not have to live from pay-cheque to pay-cheque. In so many ways the money helped and she would have been a fool not use it make her life a little easier.
She had feared she might feel lonely alone in the apartment, but there were the Camerons downstairs to keep her occasional company, Mattie had stayed each time she got leave from the academy, and an anxious Fran had moved back in together with baby Franco during Tim's eleven month deployment to Afghanistan.
She stood speculating on what they might have happened if she'd said "yes". Would he still have gone to Peru the following day, she wondered; would they have married and had a child, or maybe two by now. She tried forming a mental picture of herself as Jennifer Caldwell, wife and mother, but it wouldn't come. She sighed and replaced her cover, and with a soft "'Til next time, Miles, ciao" she turned to return to her car and stopped dead in her tracks.
"Hello, Jennifer, I thought I might find you here."
She closed her eyes for a second; only two people had regularly called her Jennifer instead of Jen; Miles, and the man who now stood in front of her.
"Hello Harm," she said studying him closely. He was older now, they all were, he was about fourteen, maybe fifteen years older than her, so that would make him about forty-six, forty-seven years old. But, despite his middle-age, despite the lines that age and experience had drawn on his face, and despite the grey at his temples he still looked slim and fit. There was, thought Jen, looking into his blue eyes, still something quintessentially young about him. His summer white uniform with the gold wings was still that of a naval aviator, and the gold captain's rings on his shoulder-boards merely seemed to accentuate his youthful appearance.
He turned and fell into step alongside her as they walked slowly along the cemetery path. He turned his head to look at her and asked, "Are you alright Jennifer?"
She turned her head and looked up at him, she always forgot how much taller than she he was, "I'm fine," she smiled, "a bit sad, but that will go. Sometimes, I wonder if I had said 'yes' to him, would he have stayed in San Diego, for even just one more day, and if that would have made a difference…" she sighed.
"Jennifer, you mustn't blame yourself!" he said emphatically.
"No, I don't. He was good for me Harm, but I couldn't marry him. You see, I didn't love him…" she let the rest of that dangerous thought fade into silence.
They walked on in silence down the path that wound between the carefully manicured lawns of the cemetery.
"And you Harm, how are you?"
"I've been talking to Mac," he replied the lazy good humour and warmth gone from his voice.
"Talking, or fighting?" she asked sympathetically.
"Both!" he barked.
"About?"
"Matthew, what else?" he replied, the iron in his voice fading, and the corners of his eyes beginning to crinkle as he thought of his adored son.
"I thought that was settled?" she asked in surprise.
"Oh it was supposed to have been settled" he said, "six months ago. Anyway, let's not allow her to spoil our weekend."
"It was hard on her, Harm," she reminded him.
"It was hard on both of us, Jennifer."
Yes, she thought, it was. Mac had suffered terribly through her pregnancy with Matthew, and she and Harm had decided against any more children. It shouldn't have been a worry with Mac's medical history, and indications of infertility, but she had become pregnant again just fifteen months after Matthew's birth. After another difficult pregnancy she had again given birth prematurely, but at only twenty-two weeks little Harriett had not been able to survive. Mac had been frantic and Harm totally distraught. Neither of them adept at sharing their feelings they had shut themselves off from each other. Their grief and their anger had turned each against the other and driven them into a divorce, which Jen was convinced neither had really wanted. Since then they had barely been able to talk to each other on civil terms. With Harm assigned to China Lake, Mac had felt that they were too close and had requested a reassignment to JAG HQ Falls Church. That, reflected Jen, was part of the problem. Harm and Mac had never been able to communicate well with each other even when they worked in the same office, with three thousand miles between them communication had become an impossibility.
Jen became aware that they had stopped and looking around she saw to her surprise that they had reached the parking lot, and were standing midway between their two cars. Harm was looking at her, his expression a mixture of curiosity and concern, "Are you alright, Jennifer? You were miles away!"
"I'm fine," she smiled uncertainly, "I was just thinking about… oh, everything." Everything, except that night she thought.
"Well, come on sailor," he grinned at her, "Are you all packed, have you got your dress whites?" he asked.
"Yes, they're in the car."
"We'd better get a move on, Jen, there's a C-17 with our name on it at Miramar, wheels up at fourteen hundred, ETA Andrews NAF at twenty-one hundred - but it's Air Force so who can tell?" she smiled at his inter service dig. But it must hurt him, she thought, just sitting in the back - not even a proper GIBS - while someone else was doing the flying, although he'd probably turn his nose up if offered a chance to take the controls of the lumbering giant transport airplane.
"I've arranged for a rental, and I've booked us rooms at the Marriott." He shrugged deprecatingly, "It's not the best, but it's clean and comfortable and convenient to the academy. We were lucky to get so close on graduation weekend."
Jen smiled, "It will be good to see Mattie, at last; she's written and e-mailed and 'phoned when she can, but that's not the same is it? I'm so proud of our little girl - third in her class! And I know you are too. Don't you dare even hint to her that you're disappointed that she didn't finish first!" she finished, mock scolding him.
"Jennifer," he said gravely, turning his head so that she wouldn't see the moisture in his eyes and gazing far off into the distance, "considering what Mattie's been through in her life and the odds she beat to even get to the academy. I would be just as proud had she graduated last in her class!"
She felt a flush of renewed affection for him; he probably even believed what he said, but she knew he would have been disappointed if his beloved Mattie had not excelled. Not, she reflected, that he would ever let slip even a hint that he was less than proud of her.
"Harm," she said as she got into her car, "You're a good man."
Now what, he asked himself, brought that on?
They weren't, of course, the only passengers on the huge transport, graduation weekend at the academy was a major social event in the naval calendar, and every past graduate who could find an excuse was begging borrowing or stealing a ride to Maryland this weekend.
The huge aircraft rumbled into the sky bearing its load of drowsing or reading passengers. As it rumbled its way eastwards, Jen tried to rest and relax through the flight, but felt a little bit out of place, as far as she could tell she was the only enlisted on the aircraft, and she had caught a few raised eyebrows and curious looks as she had boarded with Harm.
The arrival at Andrews AFB was the usual confusion of unloading and locating baggage, finding the right rental car and navigating half-remembered streets to get to the hotel. At one point while Harm momentarily hesitated at an intersection, unsure whether to turn left or go straight head, she turned and smilingly said, "Kuwaiti military justice review!"
He laughed at another shared memory, but said "I'm not lost; pilots are never lost, we're always here. It's just that sometimes we are not quite sure where 'here' is!" He fell silent, he too had his memories; he had once said something very like that to Mac.
"Harm?" There was a note of concern in her voice as she turned her head again to look at him. He couldn't help but smile. How well she knows me, he thought, and how well she understands.
"I'm fine, Jennifer."
There was more confusion at the Marriott. Somehow the two rooms Harm had reserved had become one family room. Trying to explain to a flustered desk clerk that they were not a couple and that such an arrangement was not acceptable did nothing to check Harm's rising temper. A C-17 was no match for an F-14 or F-18 in terms of speed, and its plodding, mind numbingly noisy progress, adding hours to his memory of trans-continental flight, had tired him. He wanted his dinner, a glass of wine, a long hot soak and his bed. Jennifer intervened, asking at a much lower decibel level if the clerk could not change the family room to two others. He apologised, the hotel was nearly full, and the only vacancy was the ambassador suite: a two-bedroom family suite with a shared bathroom and lounge.
"We'll take it," snapped Harm "See to it that our bags are taken up, please."
Harm had wanted to go directly to the dining room, but Jen insisted she felt dirty, shabby and crumpled and insisted on having, at least, a quick wash and a change into fresh clothing. She wouldn't she promised be more than twenty minutes. She was better than her word, reappearing in fifteen minutes freshly washed, with her hair unbound and dressed in one of her favourite lightweight russet sweaters and a pair of light-coloured slacks.
Harm escorted her into the dining room, and the appreciative glances she received did something to lighten his mood. But his perusal of the protein-heavy menu with its extremely limited vegetarian options quickly soured him again.
Harm grumbled his way through dinner, thoroughly disgruntled that the time and energy he had put into organising this weekend, a once in a life time occasion, had almost been spoiled at the eleventh hour. When she caught him rumbling "Dereliction of Duty and Conduct Unbecoming," she had caught him off-guard by saying crisply, "Aye, aye, sir, I'll draw up charges directly"
Startled, he looked across the table at her, about to protest, when he saw that her eyes were dancing with mischief
"Jennifer..." he began.
"It's alright, Harm," she said, "it doesn't matter."
"Yes it does matter," he objected, "I wanted this to be..."
"Perfect?"
"Yes," he glowered at her, "This is only going to happen for us..."
"Once?"
"Yes! Dammit Jennifer, will you please let me finish a..."
"Sentence?"
"Jennifer Coates, you are..."
"Impossible?"
"Jennifer, I'm sorry, I'm such a grouch. I guess I'm turning into one of those stereotypical grumpy old men.
"It's alright Harm, I was enjoying it; teasing you the way I used to back at Falls Church. I guess it's being back here." Her gesture around the room had nothing to with the hotel, but everything to do with being back almost in their old haunts.
"Yes," Harm agreed, "Hey wait up! You used to tease me back at Falls Church? That was deliberate?"
"Oh yes," she chuckled. "All the time. You never knew?"
"No, I just thought it was you being your usual insubordinate self!"
They both smiled at their recollections, and on the table cloth their two hands touched for a second. Both immediately recoiled from the touch and shared a look of confusion and of doubt
"Oh, Jennifer, I am so sorry. It kinda... just happened."
"It's alright Harm, it was partly my fault." She smiled across the table at him, and after a moment's hesitation he smiled back. Two people smiling at each other.
The awkward moment passed, and two friends smiled across the table at each other.
Harm studied her covertly over the rim of his wine glass. Time had been kind to her, it had left only a few marks on her face, faint lines that hadn't been there when he had first met an outrageously cheeky, wilful and disobedient Petty Officer 3, whom he had been charged to defend at an Article 32 hearing. He had done his best, but had been forced to accept a plea-bargain on her behalf and she had been sentenced to confinement for 30 days.
On her release she had turned her life around, worked hard, passed her GED and qualified as a Legalman, eventually rising to the position of Admiral's Yeoman at Falls Church and attaining the rank of Petty Officer 1. He would have been incredulous if anyone had ever told him that it she always said it was due to his influence that she had reformed herself and become a valued member of the team.
Harm continued his observation. She was about thirty now he reckoned, no, she'd said she was twenty six when she'd been reassigned to San Diego, and that was six years ago, the year he and Mac had married, so she must be thirty two now. The glorious brown hair that he had always thought, together with her deep brown eyes, her finest feature, still hung down her back as far as the bottom of her shoulder blades, she had kept her trim figure, in part, the result of her hated but diligently completed daily five mile runs and her regular swimming sessions. In that respect there was little difference between now and his earliest memories of her.
Becoming aware of his study, she looked up at him and asked, "A penny for them?"
He grinned and said, "Oh, nothing really, I was just remembering you and Loren Singer facing off at Bud Roberts' place that first Christmas, do you remember?" he continued, smiling, "You were so mad at her, I thought that either you were going to cry with frustration, or I was going to have to grab you to stop you from punching her flat." He grinned again, "You do know that Harriet gave her a black eye once? In my office I believe."
She grinned, "Yes, Jason Tiner told me all about it." She sighed, "Loren was such a bitch, but it was a horrible thing to happen to her, especially..." her hands cradled her own stomach in a reflex move, as she remembered the murder of the pregnant Lieutenant Singer.
"Yes," he said cursing himself for bringing up the subject. This weekend was supposed to be a happy time for them; and here he was like a fool bringing up every gloomy story he could find. "Talking of Bud and Harriett," he said, did I tell you they were coming tomorrow?"
"No! You didn't" she accused him, "And you left it to now to tell me!"
"Yes, and there's more," he added, thinking it was some slight repayment for her earlier teasing, "Chloe's coming down from Vermont."
Chloe and Mattie had for a while almost been step-sisters, but their mutual jealousy had at first prevented them from being friends, and they had never grown really close, but recently they had seemed to be on better terms.
"Oh, Harm, that's wonderful"
"Yes, it is. I'm glad they're settling their differences. And I'm proud of Chloe too, travelling down here, all the way from Vermont, to support Mattie."
Jen was not quite so convinced of the purity of Chloe's motives. There was no reason to suspect that the young woman had an ulterior motive, but Jen was uneasy at this sudden burst of affection. Harm's relationship with Chloe had always been… what was the word, oh, yes… complicated. She had been Mac's protégée under a mentoring system for children in foster care or in problem families. She had initially accepted Harm as Mac's friend and had then woven romantic dreams in her head, where Mac, Harm and she all lived together as a happy family, and had done all she could to promote the union. However, when Mac fell for the Australian Naval Officer, Mic Brumby, he had won her over completely. When he cancelled the wedding, Chloe had blamed the disaster on Harm. True his presence had set up the conflict in Mac's heart, but it had been Mic who called the whole thing off. Since that period Chloe's attitude towards Harm had been ambivalent. She had thawed somewhat when Mac and Harm had finally married, but she hadn't counted on the inclusion of a just-slightly-older Mattie in her dream family.
Jen was recalled from these profitless ruminations when, dinner finished, Harm asked if she wanted another drink; Jen just shook her head, and so, in companionable silence the two of them sought the comfort of their suite.
Unpacking did not take long, she had already turned out the contents of her holdall to change for dinner, but she spent a few minutes checking her dress whites. tomorrow, her own appearance, would of course, as befitting a Chief Petty Officer, be immaculate, but with a glow of anticipated pleasure she was thinking how Harm would look; 'Dress Whites and Gold Wings' she thought, a phrase from the past, she couldn't think where she'd heard, it but she had seen him in that uniform so many times that the description and the persona belonged to him as perhaps to nobody else.
He had ceded first use of the bathroom to her and she was careful in not taking too long over her pre-bed rituals. Calling a good night to him, she crossed back to her own room, dressed in her plain white cotton nightgown, and climbed into bed. For a while she laid thinking of that night just under two years ago. Mac and Harm had been at each other's throats for weeks. They had barely talked face to face, and their conversations had for the most part consisted of screaming at each other down the telephone wires between San Diego and China Lake; she still winced when she recalled some of things she'd overheard - even through the closed door to the Colonel's Office - Mac scream at Harm; it seemed however from Mac's reactions that Harm had been just as guilty. It had all come to a head one Friday evening. Harm and Mac had had a furious screaming match over the phone and Jen had distinctly heard Mac's last shouted words before she slammed the phone down "Don't trouble yourself!"
Harm, as she found out later, had jumped into his 'vette and driven the two hundred and fifty miles between them in just over three hours and arrived at Lemon Grove only to find that Mac had gone and had taken Matthew and all their clothes. Harm had been frantic, phoning everyone in San Diego that had even the slightest acquaintance with either Mac or himself; he had even 'phoned his mother in La Jolla in the very remote hope that Mac might be there. She wasn't there, but she had passed through and left some of Mattie's stuff with his mother and her husband Frank. Mac had apparently said something about going to Vermont! A deeply distressed Harm had turned to the one other person who might be able to shed some light on Mac's motives and movements. He had hammered on Jen's door at nearly eleven at night, sober, but almost incoherent with anxiety, fear and loss. A pyjama and bathrobe-clad Jen had brought him in, sat him down, made him coffee, and held him and kissed him. If Fran and baby Franco hadn't been away that weekend everything might have - would have Jen thought - stopped there and then. But there had been no chaperone. Harm had been desperate for comfort, and Jen had given in to what she had thought were long forgotten feelings, and had, she criticized herself, been a fool. It had been in the wrong circumstances and for the wrong reasons. The encounter was unsatisfactory for both. And if the encounter had been unsatisfactory, the sequel had been much worse. Jen had awoken feeling disappointed with and ashamed of herself, but Harm had been horrified. He had practically bolted out of her bed, out of her apartment and almost out of her life.
He made not the slightest attempt to contact her, and had even dodged her 'phone calls for weeks. Jen had almost given up on trying contacting him, and even though it was unbelievably painful, she had almost accepted that he had gone from her life forever. So it was with surprise and happiness that she accepted his belated and embarrassed attempt by 'phone to try and salvage their friendship. Even after they had started speaking on the phone, it was yet more weeks before they agreed to meet for coffee. That first meeting was marked by a degree of shamefaced awkwardness which she hoped she would never again have to experience, and they very nearly gave up the idea of ever meeting again. But they persisted and gradually, over time, they had rebuilt the sense of companionship they had shared when they had acted as joint guardians for Mattie. But there was a difference. Beforehand it had felt as if they could talk about anything, now there was a constraint. There were certain subjects far too sensitive to broach. And Jen did not want to risk losing Harm for a second time. Apart from everything else, he was her friend, and in so many ways her rock. If she ever needed him she would only have to ask… no she wouldn't have to ask, he'd know and he'd be there. With those thoughts in her mind, and a faint smile on her lips Jen Coates slipped into sleep.
Waking early the next morning, Jen slipped into her jogging bottoms and a T-shirt and carrying a towel, made her way to the hotel's small gym, where she eyed the treadmills with distaste. Jen hated running, but disciplined herself into completing five miles daily, but if she hated running, she hated treadmills even more; at least, she thought, when I'm running I get to see more than just a wall; but she didn't know Annapolis well enough to be able to plot a route that wouldn't only not get her lost, but would keep her out of the more dangerous neighbourhoods. Still, she sighed, it had to be done. The gym was unoccupied, except for one other person, another woman, doing bench presses at the multi gym. Barely giving her a glance, Jen stepped on to the machine and set the speed for eight miles an hour and flicking the switch settled into her rhythm. About ten minutes into her run she became aware of someone using the treadmill next to hers. An incurious glance sideways confirmed it was the woman who had been using the multi-gym as she had entered the gym. A few seconds later, the incredible penny dropped. Jen was so surprised that she almost stopped running and was forced to punch the 'stop' button to avoid being thrown to the floor, "Mac!" she gasped in amazement, and then recalling the courtesies, "I mean ma'am!"
Colonel Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb USMC switched off her own machine and slowing her pace as it wound down, came to a halt. "Good morning, Chief Petty Officer. It is still Chief, or have you separated?" Mac's voice was level and cool, not hostile, but not exactly friendly either, Jen thought.
"No, ma'am, still serving ma'am!" Jen replied stiffening into the 'at attention' position.
"At ease, Chief."
"Aye, aye ma'am."
"You're here for Mattie's graduation, I suppose?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'm here for… Walk with me Jennifer." It wasn't an order, thought Jen, but it wasn't quite an invitation either.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Jennifer, how long have we known each other?"
"Eight, maybe nine years?"
"Uh huh, and for how many of those years were you my Yeoman?"
"Just about four years, ma'am."
They had reached the open area in front of the concierge's desk, and Mac chose a pair of chairs facing each other across a low coffee table, "Let's sit," she suggested, "I think we may need to talk," and signaling a passing waiter asked for a pot of coffee and two cups.
Jen had no idea of what Mac had in mind, or even what she was doing in Annapolis this weekend. A sudden fear struck her. Mac knew it was Mattie's graduation; she must know that nothing would keep Harm from attending. Jen made a fervent wish that Mac hadn't come with the intention of causing a scene, or, and her heart gave a sudden lurch, to… No, you're being stupid, she thought. If Mac had any really serious intent, we wouldn't be talking now.
Mac picked up her cup of coffee, and sipped it, wrinkling her nose; she put it back on the table and said, "Not as good as yours, Jennifer." She paused for a few seconds and said, "I swear, there were times that it was only because you made such good coffee, that I didn't throw you into the brig."
This seemed to be an olive branch of some kind. But why?
"Yes, ma'am."
"Jennifer, we're not at work, we're not on duty, we're not in uniform and I know damn well that you've thought of me as, and called me Mac to others, for years. Why don't you try it to my face? It's a letter shorter than 'ma'am', and I promise you I won't bite."
Jennifer was confused, this was so unlike the angry and bitter Mac of that last year in San Diego, or even the sometimes confused and irritable Mac of that last year in Falls Church. Was this the real Mac, the Mac that Harm had originally fallen in love with?
"Alright, Mac, I'll give it a try."
Mac let a half smile slip across her face, and then to Jen's surprise suddenly asked, "Are you here with Harm? - I don't have to ask if he's in town; he wouldn't let Mattie's graduation pass. That's one of the things I loved about him - his loyalty to his friends."
"Yes, Mac," Jen felt an urge to fight back, "He'd even give up his career for those he cared about."
Jen's obvious reference to the Chaco Boreal disaster and its fallout made Mac wince, but all she said was, "Yes. He saved my life down there; mine and Webb's. Of course," she added, trying to lighten the mood, which had suddenly become tense, "he had to have a marine to help him! So," Mac continued, "He is here?"
"Yes."
"With you?"
"Yes"
Mac nodded, "You two were always close, and adding Mattie to the mix brought you even closer."
"Why are you here, Mac?"
"I've come with a friend to watch his son graduate," and looking up quickly added, "and I'd like to see Mattie again too, of course. Unless you think it would be too awkward. We didn't exactly part the best of friends."
"After you left, Mattie and I spent a lot of time talking. You hurt her Mac. I told you once she didn't need to lose a mother for a second time. She was angry, but I think she's over the worst of it."
Mac nodded again. "You know Jennifer, I was always scared of you. You were younger, prettier, nicer, so much more together than I was, and you hung on his every word, like he was infallible."
Jennifer was startled, "You hid it well, Mac."
Mac shrugged, "I had to." She was looking down at a splash of coffee and idly drawing circles with it. "Do you still love him?" she asked, still looking down.
If Jen had been startled before, she was stunned now. Had she really been that obvious? She asked herself. She gulped and said "Yes." Realising as she said it that she did still love Harm, "Do you?"
Mac waved her question away as an irrelevancy, and looked directly at Jen with a somewhat forlorn smile, "I'm glad, he needs to be loved"
The two of them sat in silence for a few seconds, and Jen was about to drain her cup and find some excuse to leave, when Mac looked straight at her and asked. "Are you sleeping with him?"
Jen was shocked into an angry silence; her first impulse was to tell Mac that it was none of her damn' business and that she could go to hell. As she opened her mouth to deliver her reproof, she realised that for some reason Mac needed to hear the truth. She returned Mac's stare and said simply, "No, Mac, I'm not."
Mac's eyes searched Jen's face for what seemed an age, before apparently satisfied, they lost their intensity and Mac said, "Thank you."
Jen returned to the suite, feeling a little unsettled, it had she reflected been a strange sort of conversation. Harm was already dressed in his dress whites pants and a T-shirt. His jacket and cover on a hanger by the door. "You took a long time," he remarked, "I'm all done with the bathroom, it's all yours; you've still got plenty of time." He looked at his watch, "Bud and Harriett are meeting us downstairs at ten-hundred, but I haven't heard from Chloe, yet!" He was standing before a mirror as he spoke, dragging a comb through his hair.
Jen perched on the arm of the couch; he needed to be warned, "Harm, Mac's here, here in the hotel. We've just had coffee together, that's what took so long."
He turned away from the mirror and looked at her. "Whew, that's great!" he said with heavy irony, "all we need is for her to act out, and today of all days!"
"Harm, she seems different. She wasn't hostile. I don't think she's looking for a fight. She's come to see someone else graduate, but says she'd like to congratulate Mattie too."
He looked skeptical, but then shrugged, "Well, if she's not going to declare war, I'll keep the peace."
He didn't sound enthusiastic, and Jen looked at him doubtfully, but decided to say nothing further and hoped he meant what he said.
An hour later, it was her turn to stand in front of the mirror, putting the finishing touches to her appearance. Apart from professional pride, she wanted above all things to be perfect for Mattie.
"Ready?" Harm asked
"Yes, sir!"
"Then, shall we?" A line from one of his favourite childhood cartoon shows.
"Let's," she spoke the answering line and watched his eyes crinkle in pleasure at the shared joke.
The foyer was beginning to fill with a mixture of navy dress whites and marine green, but their entrance from the elevator was seen by Lieutenant Commander Bud and Lieutenant Harriett Roberts, who came forward to meet them, Jen smiled in genuine pleasure; Bud and Harriett were two of the finest, kindest, most generous and most honest people she had ever met. It had been more than five years since Harriett had gone on Inactive Reserve and had the twins, and now the mother of four, she still fitted into her old uniform, Jen saw with fondness, just tinged with a little jealousy. Bud Roberts was still smilingly round-faced, but now his hair was almost totally grey. She noted with dismay that he was limping more than she remembered and was leaning quite heavily on his cane. There was a special bond between them. She had been there when he stepped on a land-mine in Afghanistan and had applied the tourniquet and bullied the slick helo pilot into not waiting for a medevac bird; Bud swore that she had been instrumental in saving his life; a charge which she had time after time blushingly denied. Looking over his shoulder as he smiled his way towards her, she saw Harriett who was also watching him with anxiety written plain on her face. Resolving to have a private word with Harriett at some stage during the day, she turned her attention to Bud.
"Good morning Chief Petty Officer, or" his eyes twinkled, "may I still call you Jen?"
"Sir," she said, "the Lieutenant Commander can call me any damn' thing he pleases!"
Bud smiled and held his arms out to the sides, she stepped forward and to the surprise, some of it disapproving, of the onlookers, threw her arms around his torso and rested her head against his chest as he folded his arms around her. He was not much taller than she, so was able to whisper into her ear without making it obvious, "How are you Jen?" and planted a soft kiss on the crown of her head.
Coming from Bud, as it would have been coming from Harriett, it was no mere formula, nor to satisfy a prurient curiosity, but a sincere question as to her welfare: physical, emotional and spiritual.
She was surprised at herself and the depths of her feelings as her eyes prickled with tears. Giving a little sniff, she gently freed herself from his embrace and said, quietly smiling "Damn you Bud Roberts, don't you set me crying, don't you dare," and seeing the concern still in his eyes, "I'm fine, Bud," she promised.
Harriett stepped forward to greet her with a kiss on her cheek, and then stood back taking both Jen's hands in her own said, "You're looking well, Jennifer."
"You, too ma'am. How are the children?"
"Oh, Jen, you wouldn't believe it," she said, leading the way to the couch, "Little AJ is eleven already he'll be starting Junior High next fall…" as the two began an animated conversation, punctuated with glances at both Harm and Bud.
Harm stepped forward and gripped Bud's hand, "You're a braver man than I am Bud; If that had been me she'd have slugged me!" he joked and then indicating the cane, he became serious, "The leg hurting Bud?"
"Oh, off and on, sir, off and on, sir. You know how it is." Bud casually dismissed the inquiry.
Harm gazed at him speculatively. Bud had overcome huge odds to stay in the navy and be returned to full duty status, and while he had long ago come to terms with his injury, he was reticent about discussing it, and rejected all attempts at sympathy. Accepting at face value, Bud's words, Harm felt a degree of concern. He'd mention it to Harriett, he thought, and get the full truth from her.
The muffled tone of the cell 'phone in his pocket interrupted his thoughts, and looking at the caller ID he announced, "It's Chloe"... Answering the call, he listened intently, and looked at his watch, saying, "OK, we can wait maybe five minutes, but then we need to go…" He looked round at three anxious faces and said, "Chloe's plane was late. She's in a cab on the way here, and the driver says they're about five minutes out. She says all she'll need to do is dump her bags, and she'll be ready to fly."
The next few minutes were spent in an agony of suspense while the foyer emptied as other parties called for their cars and departed for the academy. At last, thought Harm with a sigh of relief as Chloe burst in through the doors, hopping on one foot as she tried to close a suitcase supported by her other thigh. The sleeve of a sweater hung from between the body of the case and the lid, her jacket was awry and her blouse untucked and half undone. Catching the bemused looks from the rest of the party she raised a face flushed with exertion and half-panted, "Had to get changed in the cab! What's up? None of you ever seen a half-naked woman before?"
The last remark was so typically Chloe that they were all forced to laugh. She almost threw her suitcase at the concierge and said, "Chloe Anderson, I'll be back to check-in later - don't lose it! Well," turning towards Harm and the others, "What are we waiting for; we don't want to be late!" glaring at them as if the delay was their fault.
With Bud and Harriett's car in front, Harm followed their lead, Jen beside him in the passenger seat, and Chloe setting herself to rights in the back.
They arrived in good time for the ceremony which adhering to old tradition, went as such occasions usually did. Those on parade were acutely grateful that all the work of preparation and rehearsal was finally over, and that today was the real thing. For the newly fledged Ensigns it was of course a new step on their chosen careers. The seasoned observers in the audience were pretending to be more blasé than they really were; not a few of them were remembering their own graduation ceremony, for some a long time ago, for others in the more recent past. The comparative few who were excited were those who for the first time were seeing a family member graduate from the US Naval Academy.
The final act of the ceremony was the 'Pass in Review' where the graduating class led the Corps of Midshipmen in a march past the saluting base, each company in turn giving a crisp 'eyes right' as they passed the inspecting officer. The ceremony completed, the graduands were freed to join their friends and family, but finding friends and relatives was no easy task in a crowd this size; with the advantage of his extra inches Harm quickly spotted Mattie's figure searching though the throng, and taking Jennifer's elbow in his firm grasp he piloted her towards the new officer. As she spotted Mattie she pulled free of Harm's grasp and made her way forwards, in her single mindedness failing to see that she had obstructed the path of a grizzled Master Chief Petty Officer, whose rank and years of experience demanded precedence. Angered, the man spun to call her back and to explain herself, but heard a quiet serious voice in his ear, "Stand down Master Chief, this is more important than you could ever guess!" Looking around, the Master Chef saw that he was being addressed by a tall, blue-eyed Captain wearing aviators' wings. The Captain had not spoken in a voice of rebuke, but there was no mistaking the intent in either eyes or voice. The Master Chief with a faint puzzled look could only say, "Aye, aye, Sir!" and as he watched the Captain follow the Chief Petty Officer, he mentally shrugged, relaxed his brace and returned to his original course.
Jennifer approached Mattie, her eyes shining with unshed tears and her heart threatening to burst out of her chest. Coming to a halt, she froze into a brace and saluted crisply, saying "Good morning ma'am"
Mattie returned the salute, but had to swallow hard, twice, before she could make her reply, "Good morning, Chief Petty Officer." The two stood gazing at each other for a few seconds until Mattie said in a choked voice, "Chief, I wish to inform you that you are the first enlisted person to have saluted me!"
The tears now running down her face, Jennifer replied simply, "I promised you I would be, ma'am!"
Harm had held back to allow the two women to share this special moment. Mattie had told him before she joined the academy of the promise that Jennifer had made and he had been determined that she should be able to keep her promise. Now stepping forward, he said, his own eyes misty with pride, "May I have the honour of congratulating the Ensign?"
"Sir! Thank you sir! Mattie snapped in reply, her own tears now shining wet on her cheeks, as she saluted the man who had done more than any other person to change her life.
Harm returned her salute but before any more could be said a gruff, but familiar voice interrupted, "Would the Ensign also accept the congratulations of a mean, bald, old jerk?"
All three spun in amazement:
"Admiral!"
"Sir!
"Sir!"
And three hands rose in salute.
Admiral A J Chegwidden saluted in turn, "Captain, Chief, at ease," he greeted them, and continued "I don't believe I have yet heard the Ensign's reply."
A flame-red Mattie answered, "Sir! The Ensign is honoured to accept the Admiral's congratulations, sir!"
"Good! At ease, Ensign. You have more than deserved the rewards and recognition you have achieved. I look forward to following your undoubtedly fine future career! I also look forward to claiming a dance with you at tonight's graduation ball! You did a fine job, there Captain! At ease, at ease." And the bear-like old man waved a careless hand and wandered away.
The three watched in silence as he left. Jennifer was the first to collect herself, "What was all that mean, old, jerk stuff," she asked.
"Oh, that's what Mattie called him, the first time they met!" grinned Harm as Mattie turned an even brighter red as she remembered that day.
"Mattie, you didn't?" exclaimed an awed Jennifer, "I thought I used to cheek him, but even I never went that far!"
"Well," Mattie grinned, "he'd come to steal my best pilot!"
The three were now joined by Bud, Harriett and Chloe, all full of congratulations and questions as to her future plans. That was an easy one. Mattie replied without hesitation "Air Training Command, I'm going to be a Hornet Driver," she replied confidently.
Her confidence was greeted with mock sarcasm and some teasing. Chloe who had been hanging back, came forward and said, "Mattie, congratulations; seriously. I know we're not best friends, but I'd like it if we could try to be?"
"Yes," Mattie said thoughtfully, "we were always in competition, sort of, weren't we?"
"Yes, and I thought you were such a brat."
"And I thought you were the brat!"
"There were times," interrupted Harm, "when I thought you were both brats, damn annoying brats!"
"But not as annoying as you. You never did like to be junior in that department!"
The half-amused voice behind them almost froze Harm's heart. He recognised it on the instant, but it had been a long time since he had heard it other than raised in anger against him. The look of shock and surprise on the faces of the rest of the party were confirmation, if it were needed, of the identity of the speaker. Slowly he turned.
"Hello, Mac," he said warily. She was standing beside a second Colonel of Marines; Harm favoured him with a neutral stare. Just behind and slightly to one side was a nervous, very young Ensign, obviously one of Mattie's graduating class-mates.
"Hello, Harm. Harm this is Colonel James Fletcher and we both take great pride in presenting to you Ensign Wiliam Fletcher."
It was not just protocol that compelled Harm to step forward, and there was real warmth and sincerity in his voice as he said, "Congratulations Ensign!"
Ensign Fletcher responded with the appropriate, "Sir! Thank you, sir!" And then grinning said, "We made it Mattie! We made it!"
"Yes, Billie we did!"
Mac stepped towards Mattie, and said "Mattie we're all very, very proud of you." And then with a troubled smile, half held open her arms and said in a querying tone, "Mattie, please?"
Mattie returned the smile, and without hesitation stepped into Mac's embrace, her own arms holding the older woman tightly. Harm could just hear Mac's voice as she said, "and I'm so very, very sorry for making it harder for you."
The two groups turned as if in obedience to a signal and made their way towards the huge marquee where a light lunch was being served to the graduands and their guests.
The fork and plate lunch was as chaotic as these affairs usually are, everyone trying to juggle plate and glass in one hand, while attempting to ply a fork with the other. There were introductions to be made to Mattie's classmate, friends and instructors, but it was a hopeless task trying to remember the torrent of names and the sea of faces. The two groups had by some unspoken arrangement become one party, although there was a certain degree of stiffness amongst its various members. Harm had tried making small talk with Fletcher, but the other man seemed uncomfortable. He was rescued by Mac, who leaving her conversation with Chloe, accosted Harm, saying to him, "Walk with me a minute." Jen uneasily watched them leave, and almost without noticing drifted to the doorway to watch them. She dreaded their exploding into the sort of rage she had seen during the run up to the divorce. To her relief the two figures walking alongside each other, but somehow not together, appeared to be engaged in quiet conversation. As they turned around and started to walk back to the tent, Jen slipped back into its noisy interior and rejoined Mattie who with Chloe and Billie Fletcher were talking animatedly, while Bud and Harriett watched and smiled indulgently. Harriett smiled at Bud, and said softly, "Look at them, they're so young. They've got their whole lives ahead of them. They make me feel so old." She paused and then added significantly in a throaty voice, "Bud, let's go home."
Bud recognised that particular note in his wife's voice and smiled gently, "Yes, let's."
Harm saw them making their preparations to depart, and whispered in Jen's ear, "I've made our excuses to Mattie, I've had enough of this bun-fight, we need to change, and we're going to need some rest if we're to keep up with these youngsters this evening."
Jen smilingly nodded her agreement, and with a signal to Chloe, and a farewell nod to Bud and Harriett along with a promise of "later", they left the tent and made their way to the parking lot. Harm was abstracted during the return drive to the hotel, and Chloe seemed deep in thought. Jen, never in favour of distracting a driver, was content to sit in silence until they reached their destination. Their return to the hotel was the signal for Chloe to check-in and make arrangements to meet with them at nineteen hundred hours "That's seven pee em to you, young lady," Harm noted with mock severity.
Taking advantage of the in-room coffee making facilities, she brewed a pot for the two of them to share. Jen watched with concern as he sat, tense and preoccupied as he sipped abstractedly at the brew. Looking up he saw her watching him and said, with a slight smile, "It's a good brew, Jennifer; you always did make good coffee. Even Mac agreed about that. She said it was one of your major achievements."
She smiled and said nothing. Harm put his coffee cup down, leaned back against the couch, sighed and said, "She's getting married again."
There was no question in Jennifer's mind as to the identity of 'she', "Colonel Fletcher?" she asked.
He nodded, and then said, " You know it took me nine years to get her to marry me; she's known him all of nine months!" but there was no anger, or, she thought, jealousy in his voice, but there was puzzlement. "He doesn't seem her type. She always seemed to go for the bad ones, Brumby, Webb, Dalton; maybe I just wasn't a bad enough boy for her!"
"How are you with it?" she asked.
He considered the question and then said, with an air of surprise, "I'm alright. I've suddenly realised. I'm over her. I don't wish her any more hurt, but I don't really care who she dates or even marries!"
"I'm glad," she said simply, and held out her hands to him.
To her surprise, he took her hands and drew her into a hug. "Thank you," he said softly, dropping a gentle kiss onto her forehead.
It was the first time since that night that he had made any sort of affectionate gesture towards her, and surprised and touched, and realising how much she had missed their occasional touches, she again felt her eyes fill with tears.
She sniffed, and said damply, "You know, they could throw you in the Brig for that."
"For what?" he asked, genuinely puzzled.
"For kissing me like that," she answered.
He grinned, remembering that Christmas evening outside the little chapel in Falls Church, when Jennifer had decided to stay in the navy and grateful that he had cared about her, had chastely kissed his cheek. "It was worth it!" He said, deliberately echoing her words at the time. They stood for a few more seconds both happy that finally that last wall between them seemed to have fallen. She gently disengaged from his arms, but still holding his hands, said, "Welcome back, my friend; my very dear friend."
Puzzled, he argued "But I haven't been anywhere!"
"Yes," she replied softly, "yes, you have." And suddenly aware that the dynamic between them had changed into something she was not quite yet prepared to deal with, she allowed his hands to drop and said, "That rest you suggested? I'm going to take that now. If I haven't woken by half-past five, please give me a rouse."
"You don't need to wake that early, we aren't meeting Chloe and the Roberts until seven."
"All you have to do," she retorted "is climb into that monkey suit, I've got to get ready!" and with a warm smile that contained just a hint of mystery, backed into her bedroom and closed the door behind her.
He showered and dressed early, and finding time in hand he walked softly into her room. She was lying on top of the bed in her worn jogging bottoms and a T-shirt, the throw she had covered herself with had slipped off to the side, and he gently drew it up back over her shoulders, she stirred and murmured something indistinguishable and then settled again. He sat in one of the hotel chairs for nearly an hour, just watching her sleep and feeling within himself the beginnings of an inner peace that he thought he had lost forever.
He kept a check of the time, and punctually, as she had requested, he gently shook her awake, "Jennifer, it's time"
She opened her eyes and sleepily smiled at him, "Thank you," she whispered and then as full consciousness returned, she sat up and said with vivacity, "where are your wits gone, go! I need to get changed!"
"Yes, ma'am!" and chuckling, he left her alone.
Appreciatively he watched as a few minutes later, she crossed the lounge, dressed only in a shirt, the tails of which just covered her buttocks, on her way to the bathroom. He heard the sound of water running, and then silence. He figured she must be at the make-up stage now and smiled as he remembered the brief glimpse he had of her this morning, a look of intense concentration on her face as she skilfully applied those little touches which repaired the marks left by time and experience.
He had time for further appreciation as she re-crossed to her bedroom, still shirt-clad, and then through the closed the door he heard the hum of a hair dryer. Shortly thereafter she re-entered the lounge. He shot to his feet, his jaw dropping in amazement. She wore a simple, strapless burgundy gown and a single string of some red gems at her throat, with tiny matching drops in her ears. She had re-styled her hair, drawn it up on top of her head. It looked different, and it exaggerated the length of her neck.
She pirouetted for him, "well, what do you think," she asked mock-coyly
If she was teasing, he was not, "Jennifer you look - no you are stunning!"
She laughed with pleasure at his reaction and his words. He hadn't really needed to say anything. The way he had got to his feet and the look on his face as she entered the room was more than enough. She was vain enough to admit to herself that she loved having such a startling effect on someone she had known for so long.
Offering her his arm, he escorted her from the suite and along the corridors heading for the foyer, where they were to meet with Chloe, Bud and Harriett. On their way they had both been aware of the many admiring and some lustful glances sent in Jennifer's direction. Harm had been protective, trying to shield her from the most blatant staring. Looking up and sideways at him, she thought she had detected anger and perhaps something else in his face. Was it jealousy she wondered? No it couldn't be she told herself, don't be absurd. On the other hand she relished the attention; she felt like a high-school senior going to the prom, something she had missed out on as a teenager. At last they arrived at the foyer where Chloe was waiting. Like Jennifer she had opted for simplicity, wearing a light blue sheath that set off her honey-blonde hair. Bud of course was in Mess Dress and Harriett in a darker blue than Chloe, in a dress that did full justice to her more rounded figure. They did not have long to wait for their car, Harm's largesse ensuring that an attentive parking valet promptly brought the rental car round for them. With Jennifer and Chloe expressing their sense of anticipation, and Harm pretending to be unimpressed by the whole affair, they climbed aboard and set out for the Academy.
The Duty Petty Officer announced them as they arrived at the Academy Mess Ballroom, "Captain Harmon Rabb, Miss Chloe Rabb and Miss Jennifer Coates", there was the polite smatter of applause from those already present, and as each couple in succession approached the door, so the Petty Officer announced them in turn. As the crowd grew denser and the noise level grew, only those nearest the door heard the names of the new arrivals.
Chloe had given him an ironic look and had asked him "Miss Chloe Rabb - really?" But her smile showed that she was not particularly upset as she was whirled away into the dance by a young Ensign.
The tables reserved for the JAG party were already partly occupied. Admiral Chegwidden had been joined by General Cresswell and his wife Dora. Commander Caitlin Pike with her husband Danny, were also at the table, as were Commander Meg Austin and her husband Major Andy McLellan, somehow looking more out of place in his British Royal Artillery Mess Dress than did the civilians in their tuxedos. Harm had to introduce Meg and Caitlin to Jennifer, whom to minimize any embarrassment the others might feel, as Miss Jennifer Coates, he was quite certain that Jennifer didn't care that she was enlisted and he, tonight, with the feeling that an oppressive weight had gone from his shoulders, certainly didn't give a damn. Harm had the first dance with Mattie and the second with Harriett and the third with Jennifer. Mattie's hand was indeed claimed by the Admiral, and Admiral and Ensign obviously had a spirited but friendly conversation while they danced; Mattie frequently laughing and the Admiral's normally rather stern face, creasing into his rare smile. When asked by a curious Harm what they had been talking about, Mattie wouldn't say, she merely smiled, shook her head and looked mysterious, although later on in the evening Harm caught her looking speculatively at him. The Admiral, taking unfair advantage of his rank, thought Harm also claimed a dance with Jennifer, and if their conversation wasn't as lively as that of the Admiral and Mattie, it was sufficiently lively to keep a smile on Jennifer's face. Jennifer was a popular partner, and Harm had to fight down a growing and totally irrational, he told himself, sense of irritation, and contented himself with dancing with Jennifer when she wasn't otherwise partnered. He had also kept a weather eye on Mattie, and was relieved to see that she too had no shortage of partners, including General Cresswell, and was perversely relieved to see that she had no one particular partner either. During one of Jennifer's absences from their table he solicited Chloe for the dance and while they were on the dance floor he noticed she wasn't really paying attention to timing, rhythm, or even his conversational gambits. Drawing her out of the dance he led her to a row of chairs along the wall, and sitting down asked she if there was anything wrong. "No, not really," she said, but refusing to meet his eyes. He coughed and raised an interrogative eyebrow.
"Well," she said, "It's..."
"Complicated?" he finished for her.
"How did you know I was going to say that," she asked surprised
"Now that," he answered, "is complicated. I've been getting lessons; but never mind I'll tell you someday later! Now tell me what's eating you?"
"All this," indicating everything and everyone, "I know you're navy, and so is Bud and Harriett and Jennifer, and now Mattie. But... I've never really known it, never really felt it until now. I never knew how much the navy is your life. It's not for me, I've never wanted to join the military but seeing all this, how much of a community, how much of a family you all are..." She sighed.
"Are you sure about not wanting to join the military? truly? he asked with humour in his voice.
"Of course I am!" she said, with immense dignity, and then added with a trace of her old childhood grin, "A lady never lies, except about her age, her weight..."
"And her best friend's husband!" he finished for her.
"You remember then?" She queried, resting her head against his arm.
"Yes, I remember," you said that within minutes of our meeting for the first time." He chuckled, "and then blamed it on Mac! You were such a brat - and such a little charmer! And then," he remembered with a wicked grin, "you ran away and hid on top of the elevator car!"
"Of course," she grinned in reply, "you would remember that! I'm never going to live that down!" And then she straightened up and looked at him seriously, "Are you OK with that Harm, you don't mind that people say things that remind you about her?"
"No, I'm good. I had the same conversation with somebody else very recently; I'm over Mac, Chloe, I know you're still close with her and I'm sorry if that upsets you. I wish her well, but I'm not in love with her anymore." His eyes had unconsciously focused on Jennifer as he'd said it.
Chloe stood, surreptitiously looking at him from the corner of her eye but said nothing until he had escorted her back to their party's table, where before her company was swiftly claimed by a brand new Ensign she whispered to him "I'm glad for you". Harm gave her a puzzled look before he turned to Jennifer and said, indicating the dance asked, "Shall we?"
"Let's" she said, her eyes creasing in in a smile.
Harm could never remember much of the rest of that night; he knew he danced with Meg and Caitlin, with Harriett and Mattie again. But all his memories were of dancing with Jennifer. He didn't remember seeing Chloe or Mattie leave, nor with whom, if with anyone, they left.
It was late when they returned to the hotel, and wandered back along the corridor to their suite, their arms around each other's waists and her head resting on his shoulder.
Entering the suite, she turned away from him to go to her room saying goodnight as she did so, but as she turned he said "Jennifer."
There was something in his voice that made her stop and turn back, he was standing close to her, and placing his hands gently on the upper curve of her hips he drew her towards him, and lowered his head to kiss her. She stopped him with two fingers raised against his lips and said softly, "Harm, don't; don't you dare, not unless you really mean it; not after the last time," her eyes, filling with fresh tears anxiously searched his eyes and face, looking for a sign. She didn't know what she was looking for, but if it was there she'd find it.
"I really mean it" was all he said, it was all he needed to say. And she found what she was looking for.
Mutely she held her face up and lips met lips, until with a gasp she broke from his hands and her tears spilling down her cheeks, spun away.
He staggered back as if she'd struck him, "Jennifer, oh, Jennifer, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry!" and turned his back on her, terrified that he had finally betrayed and destroyed their trust and friendship.
"Harm, I'm not sorry" she responded quietly and calmly, "Look at me", she said, "I'm not sorry. It's just that I haven't done this for a long time... not since we… Look at me Harm," and there was a tone of command and confidence in her voice that made him turn. Reaching up to the side of her dress, she pulled down the zipper, and giving a little shimmy let the dress slide down her body to her feet. Stepping out of the circle of fabric, she repeated, "I'm not sorry, it's time and past time," and her eyes shining walked straight towards him.
Waking in the bright summer light, Harm became aware of a pressure on his arm and warmth along his side. Looking down his face split into a huge grin as he looked at the still sleeping Jennifer. Trying not to disturb her, he eased over onto his side to face her, content to watch and wait until she should wake. When she did wake it was swift, even abrupt, going from sleep to awake in just a few seconds. She looked into his eyes and murmured, "Hello, sailor." She suddenly giggled as she rolled on to her back, one forearm raised to lie across her forehead, and totally careless of the sheet which slid down to expose her breasts,
"What's so funny?" he growled, his sense of propriety offended, not by her nudity, but by her laughter, which he feared might be directed at him.
"Have you thought," she gasped, still chuckling "just how much brig time we could get for this!"
He looked at her in uncomprehending shock for a moment and then started to smile; his smile grew into a chuckle which turned to laughter in which she joined until they both lay gasping, weak and helpless on their backs.
As he recovered he rolled on to his side again and propped himself on his elbow, idly twirling a lock of her hair around the index finger of his free hand. The laughter died out of his face and he asked her, "Jennifer, where do we go from here?"
Lying flat on her back with her eyes closed and enjoying the touch of his hand in her hair, she asked in turn, "Where do you want to go?"
He paused considering the question and saw that she had opened her eyes and was now, again looking into his. Shocked at himself he realised that while he had loved Mac, and had been faithful to her in the few years that they had been married, there was more than just a corner of his heart that had since their first meeting belonged to this girl-woman now lying beside him.
Looking deep into her eyes, trying to read her heart he answered, "Jennifer Coates, when I first met you, you were an irritating, insubordinate, truculent sailor. I fell in love with that sailor on our second day together, when she kissed me a merry Christmas outside Falls Church Chapel. Even while I loved Mac, I loved you too. I guess I found enough room in my heart for both of you."
For the second time in twenty-four hours Jennifer felt that her heart would explode. "I think that's about the same time I fell in love with you," she answered quite seriously, "Mattie used to tease me about having a crush on you, or even loving you. I used to deny it, but I think we both knew that the only person I was fooling was me. I didn't love Miles, but I did care for him, and I will always miss him, but I don't think that I would even have looked at him, or any other man, if you had stayed single."
Harm thought furiously for a few seconds while she gazed into his face. Abruptly, he rolled away from her, hearing her gasp of shock as she thought he was again rejecting her, and looking back over his shoulder he said, with a smile "Hold that thought, stay there, I'll be right back!" and apparently unconcerned with his own nakedness rushed through into the lounge area, where she heard him opening and closing drawers in the writing desk.
He was back within seconds, and sliding back under the sheets, he took her left hand in his and said, "Jennifer, we have known each other too long for any pussy footing, and we've already wasted far too much time. Jennifer Coates will you..."
"Marry me?" she finished for him.
"Yes, I will!" He flashed back at her "This may not be ideal," he grinned, but I hope it will serve until we can find a fit replacement!" and he dexterously wrapped a rubber band around her ring finger.
"Hey, not fair!" she protested. "You never asked me!"
"Maybe," he said, gently tapping her nose with a loving finger, "that will teach you not to... "
"Finish other people's sentences?" she laughed in triumph.
"Oh I doubt that," he said.
"Harm," she asked him, the serious note back in her voice, "are you quite, quite sure about this?"
"Oh, yes, I have never been more sure of anything in this life." He looked at her, and saw that she was still in doubt of his intent. "So," he said "let's make this official!"
"Harm! What are you doing?" there was a note of laughing alarm in her voice.
"Telling the world!" he answered, reaching for his cell 'phone and dialling a number,
"No, you nutjob! it's seven o'clock on Sunday morning!"
"Leave off woman!" he said, batting her hands away as she tried to grab the 'phone, "Hi, Harriett? Hi, it's Harm. No... no... there's nothing wrong. Far from it. I'm just calling to tell you that Jennifer has just decided that she and I are getting married. Yes, that's it. Yes, I love you too, say hi to my Godsons and Goddaughter. Do you want to speak to Jennifer? She's here with me now! Oh, OK, I'll give her your love! Ow! stop it! No, not you Harriett, she's attacking me with a pillow! No, 'bye, Harriett." He finished the call, and placed the 'phone on the nightstand, he looked up at Jennifer, who was now straddling his waist and said in his best James Cagney voice, "OK, doll face, you wanna play rough, huh?"
"Oh, God no," she breathed, and leaned forward to kiss him.
Harriett Roberts replaced the phone in its cradle, and lay back down with a bemused smile on her face. She was a romantic to the bottom of her heart, who prided herself on being able to read people, and she was more than just happy for Harm and Jennifer, but, she wryly admitted, she hadn't seen that one coming.
Bud rolled over in bed to face her, and asked drowsily, "What was that, sweetie?"
"Oh, it was just Harm, to tell us that he and Jennifer are getting married," she replied in a carefully non-committal tone, gleefully anticipating Bud's surprised reaction
"Oh, good," mumbled Bud, still half asleep, "it's about time," and closed his eyes again.
Harriett pouted and sent a look of mock loathing at her oblivious, very much loved but decidedly provoking husband.
Mattie's graduation had been only four weeks ago, remembered Jennifer as she waited in the vestibule of the little Spanish Church on Saratoga Avenue. The intervening weeks had been a hectic whirl of preparations. But it had all eventually come right. She had even had the time to visit Miles and whisper to him, "You were right, I found him." But now her bridegroom was waiting in his dress whites with his gold wings, with Bud Roberts standing at his side and twenty four of his brother officers waiting to form their guard of honour. So, at this time and in this place, she waited to join her bridegroom.
She was dressed simply in a cream ankle length dress with a chaplet of white roses in lieu of a veil. She would have wished for Chaplain Turner to conduct the service, but that wise, kind and gentle man had passed away, peacefully in his sleep, last winter. She had persuaded Admiral Chegwidden to travel to California just to give her away; Fran Martinez was her matron of honour and her bridesmaids were Mattie and Chloe. The music swelled from the great organ and the Admiral looked down at her and said, "Ready Chief Petty Officer?"
She nodded and they stepped off into the church proper. But just before she crossed the threshold she thought, just for a second, she saw a figure dressed as she had first seen him, in a faded blue shirt, scruffy jeans and scuffed working boots, who saluted her with a smile and a casual wave of his hand, and she thought she heard his quiet, smiling voice, "Be well, my once and forever love".