0052 ZULU

McMURPHY'S TAVERN

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

I enter the quiet hubbub of my favorite bar with the sound of a tinkling bell. It's a familiar sound – one I've heard many times before, whenever I came here to blow off some steam after work. It is different this time, though. My awareness of my surroundings – the subdued red and green lighting, the faint smell of dark Irish beer and cigarettes, the oak paneling that dominates the overall décor – is heightened by the realization that this may very well be my last visit in a long while. And if things go my way tonight, I suspect coming here will never be quite the same again.

"What can I do for you?" the bartender asks, as I hoist myself onto one of the barstools.

"Ah, I'll have a draught beer," I tell her, and I feel my face splitting into a smile so wide that it should probably be illegal. Apparently, the bartender notices.

"What put that smile on your face?"

"Well, I just got engaged." It sounds so final, now that I've said it out loud in front of a stranger. It also sounds good – almost too good. "At least, I think I did."

The bartender grants me a half-smile. "Don't you think you ought to find out?"

I nod while she hands me my beer. "That's kind of why I'm here now."

Beside me, the bell tinkles once more, and I force myself not to look. She said she'd be here at 2000. Sarah Mackenzie is never late, but almost never early, either. What time is it, exactly? Right about now, I wish I had her uncannily accurate internal clock.

Before I get a chance to glance at my watch, though, I recognize the sound of her footsteps. My stomach does a tiny summersault. She's here. I stand and turn to watch her walk towards me. She's wearing a deceptively simple burgundy dress, the sight of which clears my mind of all thoughts but one. Gorgeous.

"Hey," she says, in a greeting so quiet that I'm pretty sure I'm the only one who heard it. Our lips meet in the most innocent of touches. It holds the promise of so much more, but we both know this is not the time or the place for that.

"What can I do for you?" the bartender asks again, and Mac smiles divinely as she orders her customary soda with a twist.

"Figures a guy like him would be with a girl like you."

Mac chuckles. "Well, we're still working on that."

"Ah, so that makes you the almost-fiancée."

She nods and accepts her soda. "That's the part we're working on."

"I don't see a ring..."

Mac gives me a sideways glance. "We're ... negotiating that."

"Lucky you."

She looks at me then – really looks at me – and it takes my breath away. Her words make it even better. "Yeah ... lucky me."

Before I can do anything to embarrass myself in front of a bar full of witnesses, I'm saved by the arrival of Bud and Harriet.

"Captain, Colonel!" Bud calls out, full of his usual joviality. Harriet goes to hug Mac as Bud and I clasp hands. "Congratulations! This is turning into quite a special night!"

I nod at both of them, perhaps happier to see them now than I've ever been. "Thanks for coming on such short notice."

Harriet laughs out loud as she pecks me on the cheek. "Are you kidding? We wouldn't have missed this for the world!"

Further hugs and kisses are passed around, but pretty soon, we all run out of immediate pleasantries to exchange, and the atmosphere of general joviality lulls a bit.

"Drinks?"

Bud and Harriet are both quick to take me up on my offer, and as I place their orders with the bartender, Sturgis and Jen arrive.

"Hey, the gang's all here," says Mac happily, and I order a Bloody Mary and a Martini for the newcomers while out of my sight, another interested party walks in.

"I got your message," he announces, and I'm pretty sure he's not talking to me, but I look up anyway – straight into the eyes of Major General Gordon M. Cresswell. So he came. Who'd have suspected?

"I thought you said you had a flat tire and no spare."

I watch Jen turn a cute shade of pink, and the pieces of the puzzle fall into place. Aha.

"Captain Rabb ordered me to get you here, sir, any way I could. So I lied. I knew you wouldn't come otherwise, and this might be a surprise to you, but it wouldn't be the same without you here, sir."

His nod is one of reserved acceptance, so I interrupt before he can really start contemplating things. "What are you drinking, General?"

He asks for a dry Martini and turns to Mac. "Colonel. I understand you're taking my Petty Officer to San Diego."

The pink on Jen's cheeks turns into a deep shade of red now. "Eh, I hadn't found the right moment to ask the Colonel, sir."

Mac, gracious as always, jumps in before things can turn awkward. "I would love to take her, sir. With your blessing."

Nobody objects, so I feel compelled to amend that statement a little. "Well, that's if the Colonel is actually going to San Diego."

My remark is clearly a surprise to everyone but Mac and Bud. "You're not thinking of turning down the assignment?" the General asks, dumbfounded. Mac just smiles a bit.

Preparing to add shock to the confusion, I stand. "Mac and I have an announcement to make," I declare, and as Mac pivots to nestle into the crook of my arm, I watch everyone's expression turn utterly incredulous.

"We're getting married."

The bombshell squarely hits its target, but right now, as Mac rests her head on my shoulder, I couldn't care less.

"In either London, or San Diego," she adds, and slowly, the faces around me melt into smiles. A flurry of 'congratulations' follows. The General's reaction is perhaps the most surprising. "Outstanding!" he beams, "I knew you'd finally come around to the Marines."

If he only knew just how long I've been coming around to this particular Marine.

"For this marriage to be successful, "one of us has to resign their commission," I continue. Unsurprisingly, it's Mac who finishes the sentence. "… And it's no surprise that we couldn't decide which one," She's always been good at completing my thoughts.

"So we're going to let fate decide," I conclude, and I turn to Bud. "Bud?"

Bud clears his throat in the typical Bud way that says 'look at me doing this hugely important thing', and then addresses the group. "When Admiral Chegwidden retired, he gave me his JAG coin, and I thought this would be the perfect moment to use it." He takes the coin from his pocket. "Here is the side with heads," He shows the coin around, then turns it. "And this is the side with tails. Bride to be will call."

Mac sighs and looks at me, as if for reassurance. I secretly love it when she does that.

"Tails," she finally decides.

Bud smiles. "I've always wanted to do this at the Super Bowl." And he tosses the coin.

0121 ZULU

McMURPHY'S TAVERN

FALLS CHURCH, VIRGINIA

"Well, looks like no Yorkshire Pudding for you, Flyboy."

Mac is holding the coin in her hand, tails up, sporting that coy little smile of hers that I couldn't get enough of if I tried. She caught it. Of course she caught it.

For a fraction of a second then, I wonder if she didn't just turn it the way she wanted it to fall when nobody was looking. In all honesty, I wouldn't put it past her. But before I can even begin to contemplate the exact logistics of pulling off something like that in front of so many eager onlookers, I realize that I don't care. It doesn't really matter where we go – it only matters that we both go there.

I clear my throat. "I believe this is my cue."

Everyone, including Mac, looks at me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity as I turn and take a step backwards, locking gazes with my bride to be.

"Mac," I begin, suddenly hoarse, "I'm not going to get down on one knee and ask you a question you've already answered. But there is something I want you to have."

I reach into my inner vest pocket, then flip open the blue velvet box as I hold it out to her.

"This is the ring my father gave to my mother when he asked her to marry him," I intone. "Consider it my promise to you. I'm going to love and cherish you for the rest of my days, no matter where life takes us."

She smiles her most divine of smiles, eyes glazing over. "Slow down, boy," she says, her voice at least as hoarse as mine. "We're not married yet."

"No," I tell her, taking the ring out of its box and putting it onto her ring finger – her left ring finger. "But we will be. Soon."

For an interminable moment, we just there stand like that, my hand on hers, drowning in each other's eyes. Then the cheering of our audience breaks the spell, and with a start, we both realize we're not alone in the world.

Mac looks at the ring, then back at me. "Harm ... How did you ... You didn't commandeer a Tomcat and fly a round trip to California to collect the ring from your mother this afternoon, did you?"

I grant her a silly grin. "Even Harmon Rabb Junior can't bend the laws of physics, Mac. I would have never made it back here in time."

She slugs me in the shoulder. "Especially not with your flight record." I should have seen that one coming. Then she sobers. "How long have you had it?"

"Pretty much ever since I started talking to my mother about you."

Mac blinks. And then, abruptly, she turns to the group at large. "I think this warrants a true celebration. Don't you? Next round on me!"