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CHAPTER THREE
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One week later
Thursday
1825 ZULU
Washington County Court
Washington, D.C.
She's pacing.
I wouldn't have thought it possible, but I guess, knowing her, I should have suspected that there was a wheelchair equivalent to pacing. This is one of the most important lessons Karin's already taught me: there's a wheelchair equivalent for everything "ordinary" people do on foot.
Karin is in constant motion. She's absentmindedly wheeling herself back and forth, back and forth... obviously totally unaware of what she's doing. She's pale. When I picked her up this morning, I was shocked at first seeing her. Her face was about the color of a freshly washed sheet. Her smile was there - just as I have gotten used to seeing it. But it was obvious from the start that it's strained today. Strained and uneasy. This appointment is about to decide her professional future. I guess she more or less feels like I did when I first asked Admiral Chegwidden to reinstate me to my position at JAG. And knowing what it's like to be denied your greatest wish, I think I have a pretty good impression of how she must feel deep inside.
You better not screw this up, Rabb.
I smooth my silver-gray tie for what has to be the fiftieth time. It's a strange feeling, appearing in court and not being in uniform. Well, strictly speaking, I'm on leave today. But I feel that today I've argued one of the most important cases I have handled in a long time. Why is that? If this were about arguing for a member of the military who's fighting to maintain a certain working position, of course I would have plunged into the matter as best as I could. But in the evening, I'd have gone home and shoved the whole matter aside to clear my head and relax.
But this is about Karin - and I can't. I'm aware that this case is important to me. I want that smile of hers to become as radiant again as I've come to know it to be. As I've come to like it. Come to...
Although I did think the matter through and although I think I know quite clearly what this is I'm feeling, I'm still pretty much confused with my reactions. No, maybe not confused, but surprised and puzzled, because all this is as unlike me as anything. How many times have I seen her? Three times exactly: at the Smithsonian, when I met her by chance the following Tuesday, and last weekend, working out a strategy for today at my place. How long have I known her? Not even for two weeks. How much do I know about her? Only the obvious facts - that she's a geologist, that she's in a wheelchair, that she's lively, captivating, beautiful.
Can I admit to myself that I'm in love with her? Yep.
Maybe, the whole ordeal I went through with Mac has finally, ultimately reformed me. Has made me see what you get when you deny your feelings for too long. Or when you want to hang on to that delusion of safety, telling yourself that you can't be hurt if you never let her come close. Paraguay has proven me wrong in that respect. And it cost me so much that maybe, just maybe, I'm settled and wise enough now not to make the same mistake again. Whatever it is - I know very well how I feel about Karin. And I'm not going to let her walk out of my life again if there's the slightest chance that she'll have me.
God, you're run away with your thoughts, Rabb. She's not even *in* your life. How can you think about not letting her walk out? Get her in first. But how exactly does that work? I've been out of those matters for so long, focused on Mac and our never-ending story, that I don't feel quite fit to take any actions. If I do nothing and leave it with a mere 'Hey, let me know how you're doing,' we're sure to say goodbye and probably never see each other again. On the other hand, if I invite her to dinner to celebrate our success in court, wouldn't that be just a little too straightforward? She might get the impression that I'm a typical sailor, chasing every skirt in my vicinity.
Yet, I feel very much inclined to seize the day and choose option number two. Provided that we win, of course. But considering how the hearing went, I'd wager we can count on an interim order in Karin's favor.
She was great on the stand. I called her right after my opening argument and we managed to disarm every last point the university had ever argued against her being able to teach classes. Painting an excellent picture of her was easy. I only needed to show her degrees and references. They're impressive, and I could tell that the judge read them with interest while the university's lawyers seemed to be squirming in their seats.
We were sent out to be called in again half an hour later. Time's almost up now. Karin hasn't spoken very much since. I offered her some coffee in the cafeteria but she told me with a weak smile that she was feeling too nauseous to drink anything. One look at her pale face - and I immediately believed her. I asked her if she wanted to take a walk instead. But she said she'd be better off if we just waited and if I let her hang on to her thoughts a little.
She apologized about five times for her behavior and nothing I said seemed to set her at ease. I can tell that she still has a bad conscience for claiming this bit of privacy. As if she feared I'd lose interest and consider her ungrateful. Oh, Karin, you don't know me yet.
"Harm?" She's looking up at me now, her expression a little intimidated.
I sit down on the bench beside her. I hate having her look up at me - I want to be at eye-level with her when we talk. Forcing her to raise her eyes to mine just feels so... disrespectful. I have the highest respect for how she holds herself and I want her to know. "Yeah?"
"Excuse me for my stupidity," she begins uneasily, apparently not knowing where to look. "And my question doesn't mean that I don't trust your skills as a lawyer," she hurriedly adds, the expression in her eyes turning fearful. She looks very vulnerable right now, small and fragile. "It's just... I've been wondering... I mean..."
I smile and lean a little closer, resting my hands on the empty armrest of her wheelchair. "You want to know if we stand a chance, right? So, one: I think we did just fine; two: no offense taken, and three: you're not being stupid at all. I know what it feels like not getting a job back that you love."
Her answering smile is a little sheepish. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be impatient, I know you did your best. It's just that so much depends on this appointment."
"I know," I tell her. "First of all: it's you who did a great job in there. You had the judge hanging on your every word, Kare. Believe me, I have a little experience reading jurors' and judges' minds. And as I said, I know exactly how you must feel about this."
Her expression loses a little of its fearfulness and turns interested instead. "You lost your job, too?"
"Twice. The first time was when I was 28. I caused a ramp-strike on the aircraft carrier I was stationed on. The accident killed my RIO, you know, my co-pilot, sort of, and left me severely injured." Why am I telling her this? This is ultra private. But I can't stop myself now. "I was misdiagnosed with night-blindness and lost my flight status. Flying had always been a matter of heart for me, because my father was a pilot, too. So when I got the verdict, I was devastated."
"But now you're flying again, aren't you?" I can tell she's confused.
"Yeah," I nod. "My night-blindness turned out to be the aftermath of an infection that was operable. I returned to active flight duty but didn't stay long." I smile just a little wistfully. "I had come to love being a lawyer too damn much in the meantime." I'm fully aware I'm telling her only part of the truth about why I returned to JAG but right now she doesn't need to know the whole truth.
"So the second time you didn't get your job back was when you tried to return?" Her frown is impressive. "I thought you were still a Judge Advocate. Aren't you?"
Darn. Now matters are getting complicated after all. "Yes, I am. And back then I didn't have problems about re-transferring to JAG. Half a year ago, though, I did." I become aware too late that my voice has lowered on the last phrase.
"You okay?" she asks me, unconsciously placing her hand on my forearm. The contact makes me jump.
"Sure. I'm sorry," I apologize lamely.
"How come you were out of JAG again?"
It's a simple, logical question, but it hurts. I'm over Mac. Really, I am, but thinking back I still feel the weight of the sacrifice and what it cost me. Or might have cost me if dear Carolyn hadn't lied about her bar exam. The workload was immense, but I'm infinitely grateful that she caused it. I owe you big, Imes.
"I resigned my commission to be able to disobey an order," I say, not sure how much she'd want to know about it.
All, obviously. Karin's eyes go all wide and round once again, and for the first time today, her cheeks take up a little color. All right, this alone was worth it.
"What was so important that it made you throw away your life, Harm?" she asks in a low voice, her gaze scrutinizing mine. I feel my heartbeat accelerate a little.
"I can't tell you very much," I answer apologetically, looking at my hands that are playing with the leather covering of the armrest I'm holding on to. "The CIA was involved and the whole matter is classified. Just this much: a friend needed me to save her life."
Karin is silent for a moment but just as I look up to joke about her being shocked that I was playing spy games, she speaks up again. And she can't deny her nature. She's an empiric scientist, indeed: look, listen, observe, analyze, conclude.
"She wasn't just a friend," she states, more to herself, but her eyes never leaving mine.
"No, she wasn't," I admit, lower still.
"Did you get to her in time?"
"Luckily, I did." My voice doesn't quite sound as relieved as it should have at the good news.
"But you weren't more than a friend to her?" she probes boldly. Look, listen, analyze - and feel that your lawyer needs a sounding board. Dammit, Kare, you're one hell of an observer. And for once I don't give a damn if anyone besides me gets an idea that the matter did leave scars. True, it doesn't nearly hurt as much as it used to. But reminiscing brings back the feelings that I never really dealt with, be the chapter closed or not.
"I wish I knew," I say. "But in eight years of knowing each other we never found out what exactly we were to each other. Maybe, deep down, we had an idea but we just never voiced it." I shrug, giving her a little smile. "Anyway, at least she's happy now. And I wish her the best of luck."
"Just like that?" Her aghast question makes me chuckle a little.
"Just like that," I confirm. "There's a point of no return in everything. And Mac and I crossed that line sometime within the past twelve months. So when nothing came out of the rescue mission - personally, I mean - she gave up and moved on. I hurt like hell for a few months but now the ordeal is over. Once I didn't see her every day, it got a lot better. We've even returned to best-friends status with each other. Literally no hard feelings. It's just the memories that are still hard to bear."
She smiles. "I'm even inclined to believe you. But if you ever want to talk..."
"I know whom to call," I finish her sentence. "Thank you."
"Anytime."
Our gazes hold a moment too long to let it pass as casual. I need to say something. Now. Or this will get really awkward. "Well, the second time I was denied getting my job back was after the mission was completed." I cock my head. "I guess I was too sure they'd need me."
"But you are back, aren't you?"
"I am - but only because my replacement screwed up big time."
"See? They do need you after all."
Touché. All of a sudden, my last remaining doubt about having made the right choice in returning is swept away. They need me. Karin says it as naturally as if it were just plain obvious. And while I'd have doubted anyone else, I know she's only stating observations. It's her nature - and just what I needed.
"I guess they do..." I concede, looking down with an embarrassed grin.
Wait - that wasn't a sob, was it? Startled, I raise my eyes again and see she's staring out of the window, unseeing, biting her lips. She has taken off her glasses and holds them in her lap.
"Hey..." With my index finger, I carefully touch her chin and turn her face towards me. For the first time, I see her eyes without any glass barrier. They are like the Atlantic after a storm. Breathtaking. "What is it, Kare?" I ask, although I think I know.
"You are the kind of person everyone needs," she says in a low, pained voice. "But face it, Harm: I'm not. Even if we get an interim order in my favor today, they'll find a way to send me home once we get to the main hearing. People ask for your help, Harm. They know what they'll get if they have you on the team. For me it's different. I'm always convincing people that I won't be a burden, so maybe they'll accept me in the end. But no one really needs a damaged good like me."
God, she has to know she's wrong! I can't believe she's really convinced of what she's telling me. Yet, looking in her eyes I see she's being totally serious. Right now I feel I want to pummel those who made that conviction grow inside her until even her crystal-clear scientist's mind was unable to contradict it. Only years of constant humiliation and open dislike can do that to you. And it's shocking to see that a handful of ignorant people can cause such damage in an innocent soul.
"People do need you, Karin," I tell her softly. "Your tour visitors need you to fascinate them explaining our planet. Your students need you to motivate them to continue what they started out at. Other people need you to make them see that fighting is worth the effort. And," I hesitate a little... To hell with it. It's the truth, so she has a right to hear it. "I need you, just because of the great friend you are. For being yourself, and not who you think you should be in order to be needed."
Without thinking, I cup her face with my left hand and brush away the tearstains with my thumb. Her skin feels smooth and silky to my touch and I revel in the moment of unexpected closeness - until I become aware that she's frozen and staring at me like she would at an alien, trembling slightly. Suddenly feeling unsure and scolding myself for being so insensitive about how much closeness she might or might not like, I start to withdraw my hand.
"I'm sorry," I murmur.
"No, don't be," she whispers almost pleadingly, and I have to will myself to refrain from repeating my earlier gesture. She clears her throat and squares her shoulders a little. "Don't be sorry, Harm," she repeats, still in a very low voice. "I was just surprised. You know, quite a few people seem to think I'm made of glass. They'd never do any more than shake hands with me. Few people make physical contact. I guess they don't know how to. Take your earlier example: being friends for me includes sharing a hug every now and then. But I've known people who were even afraid of just hugging me. They'd rather keep their distance altogether."
We're still sitting very close to each other and the tension is dragging at my nerves. Did she just offer me a way out of what I said about being friends? Because she's afraid I might turn out like whoever it was who hurt her this much? I need to set the picture right.
"And if I told you that I'm not afraid?" I ask, my eyes daring her to contradict me.
"Prove it," comes her barely audible answer that is choked with fear. She's opening her defenses to me - and she knows I might stab her with my next reaction. So my move has to be really clear.
I lean in and cautiously pull her into my embrace, feeling she's frozen again. When the distance between her wheelchair and the bench I'm sitting on turns out too wide for real closeness, I let myself drop to my knees in between the chair and the bench, making her head rest against my chest and stroking her hair. Slowly, I feel her relax against me - and the feeling of having her in my arms suddenly jump-starts my heart to double rate. I'm sure she can't have missed my reaction, but if she noticed, she doesn't let it on.
"So, did I break anything?" I ask softly after a few moments.
She chuckles against my chest. "Nope. Only my resolve to be on my guard around everyone who tries to get through my defenses."
"That's something that I'm glad about breaking, then," I reply, never ceasing to caress her head. And I realize I mean it, from the bottom of my heart.
"Ms. Hansson? Mr. Rabb?" the bailiff interrupts my thoughts, giving me the slightest smile as he meets my eyes over Karin's head. She immediately tenses up and starts to disentangle herself from my embrace. Before releasing her completely, I hold on to her shoulders for a moment, forcing her to meet my gaze and offering a nod of reassurance. Her smile is small, but it's a hint of what I've been hoping for.
"Ready to engage the enemy?" I ask her in a low voice.
She puts on her glasses with a decided breath. "Ready when you are, sir," she says and I can't tell if she's mocking me. Her voice is a little too sober for that.
I get up and straighten my jacket and tie. "Then let's go."
I follow her into the courtroom, one hand resting loosely on one of her wheelchair's handles, more to make contact than to actually push her. Finally we come to a halt at the table where we were seated earlier. I don't even bother to sit down. The judge interprets my actions correctly and smiles a little.
"Would all parties please rise?" she says, stressing the 'all' and facing opposing counsel. The people representing Georgetown get up: the vice dean, a geology professor and their two lawyers.
"In re Karin Hansson versus Georgetown University, the following decision has been made: per interim order, Ms. Hansson's working contract is to be maintained until the case is brought to main hearing. Based on..."
The rest of what the judge points out fades into the background - the paragraphs she's referring to are the ones I used in my argument: I know them by heart. I turn my head a little and find Karin looking up at me. The smile we share may be ever so brief and ever so fleeting. But to me it's the outward sign of the first bit of history Karin and I share. This case is the first thing we built together. And reading the emotions reflected on her expression, I get the feeling that it might not be the last.
This is about to get serious, Rabb. Are you sure you can handle it? Yes, I am - and strangely, I'm not in the least bit afraid.
0125 ZULU - 2025 Local
Le Goût D'Auvergne
Washington, D.C.
Karin is smiling at me over her Loup de Mer as she gently squeezes the lemon slice, making the fresh juice trickle onto the fish fillet. The candle's flame is reflected on her delicate glasses, the light painting the slightest golden shimmer to her cheeks. She has pinned her hair back to a curly bun, emphasizing the two simple white pearls she wears as earrings. Just that, no other jewelry. They contrast elegantly with her Bordeaux colored blouse. And unlike before, tonight she's put on a hint of lipstick, the very same color.
In short, she's beautiful. I can't take my eyes off her. Karin manages to master a paradox: the happy mood she's been in ever since the decision in her favor makes her look very young. And yet, the wisdom and experience shining in her eyes, this special expression that I'd noticed at the Smithsonian already, shows the dignity of every single one of her 29 years - maybe even more. If you'd ask me about her age right now, I really couldn't tell.
I absentmindedly stir my Ratatouille a little to cool it down. Burning my tongue and desperately coughing behind my napkin wouldn't leave too good an impression right now. I need to focus on my actions. If I don't, I'm sure I'll embarrass myself before this date is over.
A date. Yes, I've asked her out. 'Celebration dinner', as I claimed. But deep down I know there's more to it than just that. And I think she knows, too. We haven't spoken very much since I picked her up. The atmosphere wasn't awkward, no, not at all. But tonight there's a tension in between us that wasn't there before. A positive tension. Puzzling, exciting, daring us to go further. At least that's how I see it.
"Penny for your thoughts," she interrupts my musings, cocking her head to one side.
"Just thinking that I'm pretty comfortable right now."
Her smile widens a little. "So am I. Thank you for taking me out, Harm. This is not something I do very often, you know."
I pull my eyebrows up as high as I can. "I hope not," I say nonchalantly, the innuendo fully intended.
She doesn't pick up on it, but it's more than evident that she noticed I'm flirting. She takes a sip of her white wine and scrutinizes the clear liquid in her glass just a little too thoroughly. Then she looks at me openly, and there's a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.
"You always get your way, don't you?" she asks thoughtfully.
I shake my head. "No, I don't. Think about what I told you earlier."
"I just did," comes her surprising reply. "You wanted to be a pilot again - and you eventually got back into the cockpit. You wanted your job at JAG back - and they eventually gave it to you."
"I didn't get the girl," I lamely defend myself with a lopsided grin.
"That's because you never asked," she sums the matter up to the point.
"You make it sound so easy," I say, mild reproach ringing in my voice.
"Don't make simple things so complicated."
I can't help wincing at her words. Three years - and nothing seems to have changed. "Don't make complicated things too simple," I reply almost automatically.
Luckily, the strange déjà-vu ends right here. "But it is simple," she insists. "You want something, you ask for it. It works with everything else in your life. Why not with the girl?"
"I'll try to keep that in mind next time," I say softly, fixing my gaze to hers, again implying more than I probably should have. I become aware that she's apparently uneasy and doesn't know how to interpret my actions. She seems to be incredibly shy and mistrustful of anyone who tries to come close. What did he do, Kare, whoever he was?
I concentrate on my Ratatouille for a few moments and then change the topic slightly to ease the tension. "Why did you say it worked with everything in *my* life? What about yours?"
She swallows what she'd been chewing. "Because I need to organize everything myself. Asking anyone to do me a favor is hard because I know it'll probably take them longer to do it or it would be more difficult for them than if I could move normally. So I just leave it be and do it myself. Whatever I can organize works well. What's too difficult I just drop from my agenda."
"But what about your wishes?" I inquire. "Wasn't there ever anything you really wanted so much that you brought yourself to ask someone?"
"Yes, there was, but asking wouldn't have helped." She makes a face. I can see she wants it to look like she's being fatalistic but I feel she's just trying to shut out the pain. "Every now and then, you find there are borders you just can't cross, no matter how hard you try and how badly you want to. That was one of them."
"What was it?" From the look in her eyes I see it's a real matter of the heart.
"Don't laugh..." she begs me in a low voice, not even the hint of a smile on her face.
"I promise," I reassure her, sad that she feels the need to apologize for her wishes to me.
Her gaze turns wistful. "Have you ever heard of those places in Florida where you can swim with dolphins? They're arguing about the therapeutic use of that but everyone who's ever done it says it's an experience you never forget..." Her voice trails off and she looks down on her plate, shoving a piece of fish around with her fork. "But I can't swim."
"Couldn't someone take care of you while you're in the water?"
"That would be an incredible responsibility, I could never ask anyone to take it upon himself." She shakes her head vigorously. "My life would be in that person's hands. Tell me, would you ask anyone to do such a thing?"
Yes, I would. I would have asked Mac without hesitation. And I want Karin to know that she can ask me to do it. But maybe she wouldn't feel comfortable with that. I mean, swimming with someone and having to cling to that person is a very intimate kind of contact. She already suspects that I might be interested in more than friendship. And whoever it was that she once trusted in that respect, seems to have hurt her big time, or she wouldn't be so unsure. I could never offer my assistance. Or would her wish to go to Florida be stronger than her fears? Would she bring herself to trust me to that extent? I so want to ask her - but I'm afraid I'd drive her away. Maybe I should just shelve it for some other time. Or would she hope for me to offer her my help? I just don't know how to react, and it's driving me crazy.
Her cell phone interrupts my thoughts. With an apologetic smile, she reaches for her purse. "I'm so sorry," she mumbles, flipping the phone open. "Yes?"
I wait... and start to worry when I see her first frown, then pale. "I see," she chokes out, plain obviously terrified. "I'll be waiting. Thank you."
As soon as she puts the phone down, I'm kneeling by her side. "What's wrong, Kare?" I ask, taking her hand.
She's trembling dreadfully and clings to my hand with a death grip. "My best friend had a car accident. I'm his emergency contact. Cole's in surgery right now but they're not sure yet if he'll survive. They'll call me as soon as they know something. Harm?"
"Yes, darling, what is it?" My other hand finds hers and I try to convey to her every last bit of strength that's in me.
She swallows very hard. "Please, don't leave me alone," she pleads in a whisper that's suffocated by tears.
Karin, dearest, how could I?