~*~*~*~
TWO HOURS EARLIER
My heart breaks for both of them – for my grandson and for the woman he loves – as I listen to the loud voices drifting into the house. I don't want to hear this. I'm not a busybody. I trust Harm to come to me when he's ready and to let me know what's weighing so heavily on both of their minds, to tell me what sent both of them running from DC to the serenity of the old family farm.
And that's precisely what they're doing, I realize as I move to close the door, hoping to block out the sounds of the argument taking place outside. The last time Harm ran like that, he thought his career was in shambles after his crash. Now, it appears as if it's his life in shambles and he's come to the one place he's always known he can find the peace that has so often been lacking in his life.
I reach the door in time to see Harm storm off as Mac shouts after him, every harsh word giving me a glimpse into the private hell they're both struggling through right now. Harm freezes and says something to her – his voice just loud enough so that only she can hear – before taking off again. He's probably headed for the barn. He used to spend hours upon hours out there after his crash. It's always been his private place, his refuge. I'll give him a little bit, then go after him if he doesn't return.
Right now, Mac needs me, maybe even more than Harm does. From what he's told me, it's been rare in her life that she's had people around her whom she could count on unconditionally. Harm knows that I'm here for him when he's ready. Mac doesn't have the luxury of that knowledge. Harm's probably the only person that she's sure she can count on and they aren't exactly speaking to each other right at this moment.
"Mac, honey," I call out, opening the screen door a crack, "you want to come on in? I've got some stew on the stove if you're hungry and you're probably tired after the long drive."
She turns and looks at me, her expression confused for a moment, as if she'd forgotten that I was here. Then she shakes her head as if to clear it as she wraps her arms around herself, more to ward off the chill she'd feeling inside than that in the air, I suspect. Her cheeks are dry, but I can see from here the tears glistening in her eyes. "Um, Mrs. Rabb…." she begins, her voice uncertain.
Giving her a comforting smile, I step outside and walk over to her, draping an arm over her slumped shoulders. "Now, it's Gram around here, remember?" I tell her. "Come inside and warm up." She turns her head and I follow her gaze in the direction in which Harm stalked off. I try my best to assure her that it will be okay. "He's probably just gone out to the barn. He likes to go out there to think when things are getting him down. If he doesn't come along in a bit, I'll go out after him."
After a moment, she nods, accompanying me with obvious reluctance as I direct her towards the house. As we step into the house and the bright glare of the indoor lighting, I get my first look at the bruise darkening her face just under her left eye. I bite back my initial gasp of surprise, knowing that this is somehow related to Harm's broken wrist. Bits of overheard conversation replay in my mind and I wonder if this has something to do with the lie Mac said that she's been living with another man. But I keep my questions to myself. I don't know Mac well enough yet to feel comfortable delving into something that personal. I'm not even sure I'd feel comfortable asking those questions of Harm. I tighten my fingers on her shoulder for a brief moment, hoping she understands the unspoken message that I'm willing to be here for her.
"Why don't you take a seat at the table and I'll fix you up a bowl of my stew?" I suggest, releasing her and busying myself getting dishes from the cabinet. "It'll warm you right up."
"I don't know if that's possible," she whispers as she sinks into a chair at the table. I glance at the coffee pot, then shake my head. This calls for something a little more comforting and I grab a couple of mugs from another cabinet and fill them with water, sticking them in the microwave to heat while I retrieve the cocoa from the pantry. After I finish preparing our drinks, I set one of the steaming mugs in front of her, which she barely acknowledges.
"Harm loves my hot cocoa," I tell her as I ladle some stew into a bowl, also setting that in front of her, again without acknowledgement. "Every time he comes to visit, I usually give him a mug right off."
When Mac finish does speak, her words surprise me for some reason I can't quite pinpoint. I guess I wasn't expecting her to jump into this so quickly, especially with someone who's practically a stranger, even if I am the grandmother of the man she loves. "Aren't you going to ask what happened?" she asks, her voice surprisingly firm. Or maybe not so surprising. I can see in her the strength that Harm so admires. But even the strongest person needs to lean on someone else every once in a while.
"No," I reply, setting my own place at the table and sitting down across from her. She glances up at me, surprised. I shrug. "I figured that you would say something if you wanted to talk about it. Or Harm will later. He usually tells me what's wrong sooner or later, although sometimes it's definitely later."
"Harm thinks a lot of you," she says as she finally picks up her spoon and dips it into her bowl. But she stirs the thick broth, poking at bits of vegetables and meat with the edge of the spoon. "He….I don't know. He has indicated that you're a person that one can talk to."
"I try to be," I reply. "Harm loves his mother dearly, but they could be at odds sometimes, especially after she married Frank. And even before my son disappeared, he was often away. I guess I always tried to make sure Harm knew that there was someone he could turn to whenever he felt the need."
"My Uncle Matt is like that," she confides softly. "My parents – well, I don't know how much Harm has told you – but they were far from the greatest and sometimes it scares me to think about what my life might be like if Uncle Matt hadn't picked me up from the hospital after my accident and forced me to straighten out my life."
"Something tells me that he didn't force you to do anything you didn't already want to do deep down," I tell her. The hint about her parents isn't anything I didn't already know. The fact that she's managed to overcome so many problems in her youth is one of the reasons why Harm says he admires her so much. "Harm tells me you're one of the strongest people he's ever met and he's hardly one to hand out compliments lightly."
"I don't feel very strong right now," she counters, staring down at her food. Glancing up at me, she actually lifts a spoonful of stew to her mouth, probably more out of a desire to show me kindness for preparing the food, rather than any real desire that she has to eat. "This is good. I'm surprised there's meat in it, with Harm coming."
I accept the change of topic gracefully. It's probably temporary anyway. I consider myself a very good judge of character and this is a woman who really wants, deep down, to talk to someone. If I wait long enough, I think she'll talk to me. I hope she will. She means a lot to Harm, so by extension she means a lot to me. "Harm tells me that you have a healthy appetite," I reply. "He'll just eat around the meat and the two of us can tease him about what he's missing."
A ghost of a smile appears on her face, but just as quickly, it's gone. I don't want to push, so silence reigns for a few minutes as we both eat, Mac with a bit more gusto now that she's actually tasted the food. As she finishes off her bowl, the atmosphere is almost comfortable and she is more relaxed than she's been since they arrived. When Mac finally breaks the silence, she brings up the topic of the events which brought the two of them here.
"It bothered me," she begins, "or I guess it still does, that Harm didn't tell you beforehand what happened or why we decided to come up here."
"He probably didn't want me to worry about the two of you," I explain. I'm not really surprised by his behavior. I think there's very little about Harm which could surprise me after all these years. "Harm is very passionate about protecting the people he really cares about."
"I know," she replies dully. "That would be how he broke his wrist."
"You mean, by going after the man who did that to you," I conclude, nodding towards her bruise. Again, it's not really a surprise when she answers in the affirmative by nodding.
"I suppose I should be thankful it wasn't worse," she adds. "If he hadn't called the Admiral…." She trails off, perhaps concerned that she's revealing too much, but I know my grandson well enough to have a pretty good idea what happened.
"Let me see," I say, standing and gathering our dishes. Mac makes a move to help me, but I wave her off and she settles back into her chair with her drink. "My grandson decided to go off on his own after this man, probably without telling you, but fortunately, he called the Admiral, probably because he realized that he was on the verge of doing something foolish."
"Mic used to be a boxer," she reveals, sipping her cocoa. "And they've fought before. Harm held his own that time, but then again, Mic wasn't….angry, betrayed. He didn't blame Harm for….for my leaving him."
Her voice is so quiet at the end that I have to strain to hear her. Tears are forming in her eyes again and I reach across the table, covering her free hand with one of mine. "I didn't realize that you were his property," I say firmly. "If you decided to leave him, whether or not it had anything to do with my grandson, it seems to me that he should have acted like a man and accepted your decision."
When she looks up at me, I see a hint of admiration in her eyes. "I think I see where Harm gets spirit and his determination," she says. I begin to feel just a little flicker of hope that maybe I'm doing some good for her.
"Well, unfortunately, I got mine the hard way," I explain, "by becoming a widow with a young son when I was barely out of girlhood. If I managed to pass some of that on to my grandson by example….then it was the least I could do as a grandmother."
"Did Harm ever tell you how we met?" she asks, managing a small, genuine smile at the memories she's obviously reliving. I do know this story, but I motion for her to continue.
"He was uncomfortable with me at first," she tells me, a far away look on her face. "You know, because of Diane. But he managed to look past that pretty quickly, at least most of the time." I nod. I'd met Diane a few times, during visits while they were at the Academy, a couple of times after graduation. One of the first things that Harm had told me about Mac was how much her appearance had spooked him, especially coming just months after Diane's death. But he never mentioned it again after that first time. Mac's correct that he did manage to look past the physical resemblance pretty quickly. Even I can tell, from my limited experience with both women, that the appearance is physical only. Personality-wise, they are nothing alike and I'm sure Harm latched onto that fact pretty quickly.
"Anyway, I didn't help things by holding a gun on him," she continues after a moment and her expression softens just a little. I don't know if it was love at first sight, but it seems she's had very strong feelings for Harm since the beginning. I hope that hanging on to those wonderful memories will ultimately help them through whatever else has happened to them. "But he looked past that, too, and later he was telling Uncle Matt exactly how he was going to defend him and how he could spin things so that I didn't get into trouble for my actions."
"Well, Harm is usually very good at reading people," I point out. "He obviously saw something in you and your uncle that made you worth defending in his eyes."
"And when Harm decides that he's found something or someone worth defending," she agrees, slowly shaking her head, "God help the person who stands in his way."
"Sounds like the voice of experience talking," I say with a smile, motioning to her to follow me out into the living room. The kitchen table hardly seems to be the place for a heart to heart with the woman Harm loves. She follows and we settle onto the couch. Mac's eyes immediately go to the pictures of Harm decorating the coffee table and she picks one up, running a finger over the glass, tracing his features. That particular photo was taken when Harm was restoring 'Sarah'. He's painting the check board pattern on the tail, a look of intense concentration on his face. He hadn't even realized I'd taken the picture until he noticed it sitting on the table in its frame.
"We've butted heads because of that more times than I can probably remember anymore," she explains. "But it's one of the things that makes him such a good lawyer and it's one of the things that made me fall in love with him."
"It's one of the things I love most about my grandson, as well," I concur, "even if that determination can sometimes border on pigheadedness." Mac and I share a laugh
"Oh, I've definitely seen that side of him," Mac says.
"Well, I do have to say that the pigheadedness is an inherited trait," I joke. "Both my grandsons seem to have picked it up from their father." Mac gives me a look of surprise and I shrug. "Isn't that why my younger grandson is in the middle of a war rather than here in the States getting to know his family? Harm told me. I also know that he hasn't told his mother yet."
"He's afraid to be the one to hurt her with the truth," she explains. "He told me a few days ago that his mother stopped in Washington for a visit and he was going to tell her, but couldn't."
"It would go against Harm's personal code of honor," I reply, "to intentionally do anything to hurt someone he cares for. Unfortunately, as a result, it means that he feels it very deeply when he believes that he's hurt someone unintentionally." I pause for a moment while my words sink in, Mac finally giving me a slow nod of acknowledgement.
"Intellectually," she says sadly, fighting the trembling threatening to overcome her voice, "I know that it was ultimately Mic's fault. He was the one who beat me. He was the one who lured Harm into meeting him yesterday morning. I know that and Harm knows that. But there are so other things…."
"If only you'd hadn't done this, if only you'd done that differently, right?" I ask firmly. "That's what this all comes down to. You and Harm are both blaming yourselves, in varying degrees, for provoking this Mic person and you're both so wrapped up in blaming yourselves that you're having trouble connecting so that you can help each other through this."
"That would be it in a nutshell," Mac confirms. "So what pearls of wisdom do you have to impart?"
"None," I replay, earning a shocked look – mixed in with a bit of disappointment - from Mac. "Mac, I'm only human and, although I've been through my share of heartache and tragedy, I can't even begin to imagine what you two are going through. I may have been on this earth for a long time, but that doesn't mean I have all the answers. The only thing that I can do is be here for both of you, lending a friendly ear if either of you want to talk and praying that you'll both find your way."
Mac is silent as she absorbs this and I pick up our mugs. "Now, I am going to insist on something," I state, my tone making clear that I'm not going to accept any arguments. "You are dead on your feet. I'm going to make you another mug of cocoa and then I'm going to take you upstairs. You're going to talk a long, hot bath and try to relax while I go check on Harm out in the barn. Then I'll get him to come inside and eat dinner. Then I want both of you to go to bed and to try to get a good night's sleep. Hold each other and try to forget for a few hours everything except how much you love each other."
She nods, saying softly, "I think we can try that." I pat her on the shoulder and turn to head into the kitchen, but before I take two steps, she stands and gives me a tight hug. "Thank you, Mrs….Gram. I think that was pretty wise."
I don't know about wise. There are a few things that I have learned in over eighty years. One is that things will get better eventually. Another is that no matter how much I'd want to, I can't do a thing to take away the pain of those I love. That's probably the hardest lesson of all for anyone to learn and one that I imagine Harm and Mac are discovering for themselves right now. Just as much as each of them blames themselves for what happened, they also are frustrated because they can't make it easier for the other. In its own way, that probably hurts them more than their physical injuries ever could.
~*~*~*~
I enter the barn to find Harm just inside the door, slumped against the wall, asleep. Usually, he looks so peaceful in sleep, but not this time. He looks so troubled and tormented, worry lines creasing his forehead. Carefully, I lower myself to the ground next to him, a hand on his shoulder. "Harmon?" I say. He stirs, but doesn't awaken until I call his name again. When he does finally open his eyes, it breaks my heart to see how lost he looks. I haven't seen that look in a long time….not since the last time Harm came running to the farm, after his crash.
"How long have I been out here?" he asks sleepily, his voice slightly slurred.
"About two hours," I reply. "I thought both you and Mac needed some space to cool off, so I convinced her to take a long bath and let you alone for a bit."
"You heard?" he asks, avoiding my gaze. I imagine he thinks that I'm disappointed, having heard them arguing like a couple of children. But I'm not disappointed, not in them. I'm hurt because the person I care for most in the world – and the woman he loves – are hurting.
"You two weren't trying to be quiet," I reply with a sad smile. "But that's not important. It's a good thing that you came up here. I think you both need me right now." I mentally cross my fingers that I'll make some kind of impact with him, just as I did with Mac earlier.
"I don't know, Gram," he says, sighing heavily. "I don't know what we need. Nothing seems to help. It will seem like it's getting better, but then we take about five steps backwards."
"You love her and she loves you," I say, making the same point I've already made with Mac. "You'll find a way to work through this and you'll be the stronger for it."
I'm not quite sure he believes me. He leans against my shoulder, closing his eyes. I sense that he's trying to relax, but not very successfully. My heart breaks even more at his next words. "Gram, I'm scared," he admits softly. It's a rare admission from Harm and a sign of just how desperate and out-of-control he feels right now. "We've barely started and I….I'm already losing her and I don't know what to do."
I don't say anything for a long moment and just hold my grandson, conveying silently the message that I'm here for him. Finally, I tell him softly, but firmly, "I'm going to tell you the same thing I told Mac. You're going to come inside and eat dinner. Now, don't give me that look, Harmon. I'm not about to take 'no' for an answer. You are going to eat dinner. By the time you're finished, Mac should be finished with her bath. Then I want both of you to go to bed, hold each other and try to get a good night's sleep."
Harm lifts his head from my shoulder and asks tentatively, the concern obvious in his voice, "How is she, Gram?"
"She's hurting right now, same as you," I reply. "But it will get better eventually. The best advice I can give both of you right now is to be patient and to be there for each other and to trust that your love for each other will get you through this."
He gives me an uncertain look, as if he's not quite sure of the truth of my words. "I know things seem pretty bleak right now," I add, managing through years of practice to sound reassuring, "and I know that I don't know the whole story yet, but I think I do know enough to be able to say that you will get through this. I won't sit here and pretend that it will be easy, but you will get through this."
"How much did Mac tell you?" he asks.
"Just generalities," I reply. "She confirmed for me that she was involved with this Mic guy and broke it off with him. He didn't take it very well, hit her, then came after you because he blamed you for her leaving."
"We slept together," he blurts out. I look at him, confused. Does he honestly think that because I'm old, I don't know how relationships work these days? But understanding dawns with his next words. "Before she officially broke it off with him, I mean."
"So?" I demand, getting a look of surprise from him. If he's expecting disappointment or censure from me, he's going to have a long wait. "Tell me something. If you two had not 'slept together', would she still be with this Mic person right now?"
"I don't know…." he says hesitantly. He picks up a piece of straw from the floor and rolls it between his fingers, staring at the golden stalk. "I mean, we talked about it and she said there were problems in the relationship even before we….but I don't know. If there were problems, I would have thought she would have broken it off with him before…."
"So you're blaming yourself for everything because what happened between you and Mac was the catalyst, in your mind, that cause this Mic person to strike out, right?" I ask. "Well, that's absolute rubbish, Harmon, and you should know better than that. Nobody is responsible for Mic's actions but Mic himself. If you were in a court of law, you'd be laughed right out of court with an argument like that."
"Gram, it's not that simple," he begins, but I cut him off.
"Actually, in a way, it is. I'm not claiming what you two did was right," I interrupt firmly, "but I'm not going to condemn you for it either. No matter what you did, nothing could possibly excuse what Mic did. I assume he has been arrested?"
Harm nods. "He was arraigned this morning," he replies. "That's part of the reason why we got here so late. He's facing domestic assault, vandalism and….attempted murder." My eyes widen in shock at that and he quickly tries to reassure me. "Because he had a knife when we had our….confrontation, the prosecuting attorney decided to go with attempted murder rather than simple assault, especially since it was premeditated and he had lured me into meeting him."
"So what happens next?" I ask. "With the court case, I mean?"
"He has been released on bail," he replies, staring off across the barn. "The Admiral did get temporary restraining orders on our behalf, barring Mic from coming anywhere near us. There's another hearing next Monday afternoon and, aside from hearing any motions, a trial date will be set at that time."
"Good," I say. "Then while you're up here, I want you to try and put the case out of your mind. I seriously doubt anything's going to come up on that score in the next seven days. You and Mac are under orders to try to relax and to talk to each other. Things are going to be rough when you go back to Washington and have to face all of this again, but it will go easier if you two are there for each other."
"Gram…." Harm begins hesitantly, finally looking at me. He takes a deep breath before he continues. "Do you think we can….get past this and go on, I mean?"
I close my eyes, wishing that I could lie and give him the answer that he wants to hear. But I've never lied to him before and I'm not about to start now. "You know I can't answer that," I reply honestly, holding his gaze. "I'm not a prophet. But I can tell you this. Neither of you will get past this alone. You need each other, perhaps more than you ever have in the four years you've known each other. I can't make you find your way, but I am here for you, for both of you. If either of you wants to talk or you just want a hug, I'm here. And I'm praying."
"I think we could use all the prayers we can get right now," he says softly, pulling me into a hug. "Thank you, Gram. I love you."
"I love you, too," I reply, then pull away and stand. When I speak again, my tone leaves no room for argument. "Now, it's time to go inside. You need to eat then it's off to bed."
A ghost of a smile flits across his face at my no nonsense tone, but just as quickly, it is gone. "Okay," he agrees softly. "I….need to see Mac anyway, to apologize. And I….just need to hold her in my arms. When I can hold her, somehow everything feels just a little bit better."
"Because you love each other," I point out. "And that's what you have to hold onto. If you hold onto your love – although I can not promise it will be easy, because it definitely won't be – then you have the most important tool you'll ever need to get through this."
~*~*~*~
It's another sign of how badly Harm is hurting that he eats the entire bowl of stew that I set in front of him, not even noticing that there's meat in it. His movements are automatic, without feeling. I have a feeling that I could have put a thick, juicy steak in front of him and he would have eaten it without even noticing what it was. But I don't say a word, just let him eat his food – thankful that he is at least eating and isn't claiming that he's not hungry – and let him know by my mere presence that I'm here for him. When he's finished, he insists on going out to the SUV to retrieve their luggage, only to find that Mac brought it in already while we were out in the barn.
"Well, I guess it's time to head off to bed," I say, starting upstairs. Harm hesitates a moment, then slowly follows me. "It's getting late. I'm not a young woman anymore, you know."
My tone is teasing as I say that last bit and Harm tries to respond in kind. "I don't think you'll ever be old, Gram," he says, but his voice mostly sounds flat. I turn my gaze Heavenward and silently ask God to look out for them.
"Believe me, I have days when I feel every one of my eighty plus years," I reply, nearly running into Mac at the top of the stairs as she comes out of the bathroom, dressed in a terry robe, her hair wet from her bath. She manages a weak smile, until she sees Harm coming up the stairs behind me. They both hesitate a moment, both of them obviously remembering their earlier argument. Then before I can blink, they're in each other's arms, clinging desperately to each other.
"I'm sorry," they both whisper at the same time and I breathe a little sigh of relief. I know those words don't come easily to Harm and I suspect they are just as difficult for Mac to speak. It's a small step, but at least it's a step in the right direction. They both seem to have forgotten my presence, so I slip away to my own room without saying a word.
As I get ready for bed myself, my eyes fall on a picture prominently displayed on my dresser – the last picture I have of my husband and son together, taken the day David left for war in December 1941, never to return. David's in his dress uniform, Harmon in his arms, playing with the shiny gold wings on his father's chest. I pick up the picture and study it, softly repeating my own private prayer that I've uttered so many times before. "David, Harmon," I whisper, "I hope you both are up there, watching over Harm. Right now, he needs all the love and support he can get. Mac, too. They love each other so much, but they're afraid that it isn't enough and, God help me, so am I."
~*~*~*~