6
Keeping a wary eye on a now-short-tempered Catherine, Harm guided her into the elevator and pressed the button to take it up to the third floor, praying that the unreliable piece of junk wouldn't choose this occasion to break down. Further justification he realised for finding somewhere much more suitable to live. He'd miss the opportunity to run upstairs, it was a useful post-run cool-down in addition to any other benefits it might have, but it was already far too much to expect Catherine to slog up all those stairs, and he suspected that with a baby, a stroller and maybe a sack or two of groceries, it would be totally impossible for her.
True Catherine's apartment was much more user-friendly, although it was far too small for two adults to share, let alone two adults and a new baby. Harriett had told him enough horror stories about trying to cope with the new-born A J and Bud before they'd moved out of their apartment into the house in Alexandria! Admittedly Catherine's apartment was on the second floor, but the building elevator was modern and worked well, and smoothly, a far contrast with the bumpy ride they were now experiencing. Oh, God! The bumps! Harm looked intently at Catherine, but fortunately there didn't seem to be any signs of pain or worry on her face, just, he breathed a sigh of relief, a scowl of bad temper.
Catherine saw him watching her and although she thought she detected concern in his face, she couldn't help herself, "What?" she snapped at him.
"Uh... I was... getting... uh... a little... concerned. About you, and Elizabeth, being in this elevator, with all its bumps and jolts and shudders."
"Oh... Harm..."
"As long as you're OK, I'm happy, so if keeping you OK means you bite my head off once in a while, then I'm OK with that. Look, I know today has been a bear, but just seeing you here in this elevator only reinforces that we needed to do what we did today, and I promise you that tomorrow will be so much easier, like it says, Sunday is a day of rest!"
Catherine smiled gratefully at him, not so much for the promise of a quieter day tomorrow, but because of his obvious concern and his efforts to bring her out of the sullen mood into which the strain and the exertions of the day had driven her. And it was true - she didn't like the sensations the jolting of the elevator were causing in her stomach. Added to which Elizabeth's bouncing around, as she thought of it, was adding pressure to her already uncomfortably full bladder.
The last thought stayed with her as the elevator ground to a halt, and Harm lifted open the old-fashioned freight gates and unlocked the apartment. Brushing past him, she murmured a quick but sincere "Sorry" she headed at what she recognised could only be termed a fast waddle toward his bathroom.
Harm placed the bundle of realtors' papers on his desk, and plugged in the kettle while he prepared two mugs of raspberry and rose hip tea, and then cut over to the couch, where he piled the cushions into a corner while he waited for Catherine to re-emerge from the bathroom.
When she did come back into the living room area, she did so barefoot, having got rid of her shoes and her panty-hose or stockings, or whatever it was she'd worn throughout the day, and just for second he debated whether or not to mention that she was fulfilling one of the oldest male fantasies, but then decided on the balance of things that he rather liked being alive. His smile at his own thoughts caught Catherine's eye, but it was remarkable, she thought, how the alleviation of just one of her symptoms could change the way she felt about life, the universe and everything. So her, "What's so funny, now?" was couched in much less aggressive tones than it could have been, as she lowered herself with a sigh of relief and gratitude down and back against the mound of cushions on the couch.
"Oh, nothing really, just an idle thought, that I'll keep to myself for the moment, if you don't mind!" Harm smiled at her, "Oh, and just hang on a second," he instructed her, as he snagged yet another cushion from one of the arm chairs and placed it on the coffee table, "Here, your ankles look a bit puffy, put your feet up and relax, I'll grab the tea."
They sat together sipping their tea and Harm listened while Catherine told him quite calmly and in great detail what exactly had been wrong with the day, and his whole idea of how to spend their Saturday. Eventually, she ran out of steam and grinned awkwardly up at him, "You're not really listening to me, are you?"
"Yes, dear," he said obediently.
"Like hell you are," she scolded him cheerfully.
"Well, I did zone out just a little bit, after about the forty minute mark," he confessed with such a false air of guilt that Catherine was compelled to laugh.
"I have not been going anywhere near forty minutes!" she protested
"No, of course not," he replied soothingly, and then added in a stage whisper intended for her to hear, "It just felt like it!"
Catherine giggled again, "Is this how you seduce all your girlfriends?"she asked, "You just laugh them off their feet and into bed?"
Harm's voice lost its teasing note. "Is that what you think I'm doing, Catherine, trying to seduce you?"
"No... not at the moment," she said thoughtfully, her pale blue eyes searching his deeper blue ones, "but the subject is going to come up at some time, Harm. What I want to know, before we get too deeply into this playing house, is where is it going to lead us?"
"Well, for a start, Catherine, I don't see it as just playing house. As far as I'm concerned I have made a commitment to you and to Elizabeth," he gently placed his finger tips on her stomach as he spoke, "that I intend to keep for at least the next eighteen years. And yes, at some time in the future, it would be good to have a little baby brother or sister for Elizabeth, but I'm in no rush, and I can wait for as long as it takes for you to decide whether you want to take us to that stage."
"So, you do want to have children or a child with me?"
"Yes, I do at some stage, but only if you want to go that route, too."
"Oh, at the moment, even feeling the way I do, and hating that I almost can't see my feet, and I'm finding it difficult to wax my legs, and none of my favourite clothes fit me any longer, and neither do my favourite shoes. And I can't stand up too quickly without feeling dizzy and off-balance, and..." Catherine caught her breath and looked guilty, "Uh... we've just been there, haven't we?"
"We have," Harm agreed gravely
"Oh... well... what I was wanting say," she confessed shyly, "even feeling the way I do now, the thought of having another child, someday, with you, doesn't exactly turn me off..."
"Yeah," he said tightening his arm around her shoulder in a gentle squeeze, "someday."
That sat in silence for a while as they both digested what they had said and heard, until Catherine said, "Harm?"
He turned his head to look at her as she looked up into his eyes, and then very slowly she raised herself up and then very gently kissed him on the lips.
Harm froze for a second, and then found himself responding, his lips relaxing against hers for long seconds, until she sat back and smiled up at him.
Harm looked at her in astonishment. "Uh... what... what was... what was that for?"
"Oh, for being you. For looking after me, looking after us. For promising to make me dinner. And, most importantly, because I wanted to."
"Oh crap! Yes, I did. I did promise you dinner!" Harm jack-knifed off the couch, suddenly glad that he had something to occupy his hands while his mind raced through the implications of what had just happened. He smiled down at Catherine, "Give me fifteen minutes and it'll be on the table. You just stay right there!"
"Ummm... Would you mind if I came and watched what you're doing? I'll just hop up onto one of the stools, and be as quiet as a mouse!"
Harm was surprised, "Well if you think you'll be entertained by watching me cook, then sure, be my guest!"
Catherine walked over to the kitchen island and then to her chagrin made an unwelcome discovery, without the benefit of heels, she wasn't quite tall enough to just sit on the stool, she'd have to give a little jump to manage that, and she didn't feel agile enough to do that either.
"Umm, Harm... Could you give me a hand here, please? And don't you dare laugh!"
Seeing her predicament, Harm had to force himself not to laugh, but his amusement showed in his eyes as he helped Catherine on the stool. She gave him a level look and just said, "Don't!"
"No, ma'am," Harm managed to reply as he turned back towards the stove, where after a minute or so while he fought to regain his composure he turned back to the refrigerator asking Catherine, "Which would you prefer? Alcohol free wine, or sparkling cider, or mineral water?"
"Oh, the wine for me, please. But don't think you have to abstain, just because I can't take a drink!"
"Catherine, it's no hardship, I've got so used to not drinking these days. For years I've been cooking for and eating with Mac, and she doesn't drink, so I got used to not drinking, too."
Hearing Mac's name so casually dropped into the conversation gave rise to two conflicting emotions in Catherine's heart. First there was a stab of what she realised almost instantly was jealousy, and that was totally ridiculous. She had no right to be jealous, she had no claim on the man talking to her, and the second emotion was one of relief as she scanned his face looking for any sign, and failing to find it, that he still felt tied to the marine officer, and that he was able to mention her name without the slightest sound of regret for what might have been.
Catherine spent the next twenty minutes observing Harm's sure and economical movements around his kitchen area. There was a place for everything, and everything was in its place, and his hands seemed to know where they were going and to find what they need almost it seemed without his conscious control.
Harm apologised that dinner was only two courses today, the entree and the dessert. In Catherine's opinion there was no need to apologise, the main course was chicken parmigiana, in lieu of veal, he said, which he didn't eat, accompanied by a warm green bean and new potato salad, while dessert was home-made fresh fruit salad served with natural yoghurt.
Once they'd eaten Harm gave the dishes a quick rinse under the sink faucet before stacking them in the dish-washer, and then turning to Catherine to help her down off the stool, wincing at even the light impact of her feet on the kitchen floor.
"That's the last time," he told her in a voice that he meant to convey that there'd be no argument
"What is?" asked a puzzled Catherine
"That's the last time you perch up there on a stool until Elizabeth is safely with us!"
"I was perfectly safe on the stool," Catherine protested
"Yes, I know," Harm replied in a voice of great patience, "but I didn't like the way you had to jump off it; even with me to help you. And don't say jolting and bouncing don't hurt, I saw you make a face when you were in the elevator!"
"Oh, OK, then. I won't say they don't hurt, but only because you wouldn't believe. And you wouldn't believe me if I told you that the face I pulled in the elevator was because I wasn't sure my bladder was going to hold out until I reached the bathroom, so I won't tell you that either. But what I will say is that it might be best if you didn't come with me on Tuesday evening," Catherine told him in a non-committal tone.
"Oh, why not? I said I wanted to be here for you all the way through this, so what's so special about Tuesday?"
"Gymnastics class." Catherine said blandly. "I don't think you'd survive watching me doing gymnastics."
"What sort of gymnastics?" a startled Harm demanded.
"Oh, you know, the usual girly stuff, the balance beam, the vault, the trampoline, the floor routine, you know, the one with all the back flips and somersaults, and then..."
Harm listened to the start of Catherine's list with a look of dismay that rapidly went through the stage of suspicion into an accusatory scowl. "Catherine!" he announced thunderously.
"Yes, Harm?" she replied innocently
"I don't know about me not surviving your gymnastics class! I'm not even sure of your surviving this evening!"
"Oh, I think I'll survive, Harm. After all, I have eaten your bread and salt!" she told him as her broad grin finally broke the expressionless mask she'd been fighting to hold in place. "But really" she said as she made her way back to the couch, "I'm only pregnant, not made of glass, and I won't break. Honestly!"
Harm sat down beside her, "I know you know what's best for you and for Elizabeth, but you will let me worry, just a little bit, won't you?"
"Does it help you if you worry a bit?" Harm nodded, "Oh alright then, you can worry just a teeny bit, but no going overboard, and no nagging, OK?" she conceded.
"OK," Harm agreed with a smile. "Now, you kept up your end of the bargain today, by traipsing around half the real estate in Northern Virginia, so, if you want, it's time for me to fulfill my half of the bargain."
Catherine frowned for a second as she tried to recall what he meant, and then her brow cleared, and a smile of delighted anticipation lit her face, "Oooh, if you mean a foot rub, then yes, yes please!"
"OK then, sit forward so I can re-arrange those cushions for you... yep. Good, now hold that position and that thought until I get back." Harm picked up the bundle of realtor's notices and dropped them into Catherine's lap before he crossed to the kitchen to collect the olive oil and a clean tea-towel, and then stopped at the coat tree just inside the apartment door where he dipped his hand into his jacket pocket before returning to the couch, where he gently lifted Catherine's feet to place them on the tea-towel across his thighs. He showed her a little brown glass bottle, "Lavender oil," he explained, "I'll add a drop of this to the olive oil. It helps with aches and pains, and it'll help make you smell even tastier than you already do. And, if you can concentrate while I'm subjecting you to this torture, have another look through those, and throw out the ones you didn't like, and keep hold of the ones that aren't immediate rejects!"
Harm smiled as Catherine obediently began to go through the half-dozen or so realtors' listings, I'll give her about five minutes, he told himself, before they all end up forgotten!
Twenty minutes later, he put Catherine's second foot gently back in his lap as she shuddered and groaned with relief. "Well," he asked her, "did you make a short list?"
Catherine opened her eyes and smiled dreamily at him, "You know damn well, I didn't," she told him, "You know just how devastating those foot rubs are, and you knew I wouldn't be able to concentrate!"
"Yeah, I know," he confessed, "but consider it payback for the gymnastics class." He leaned over and gently tapped the tip of her nose in reproof.
"Ugh," she protested, "your finger's all oily!"
"Yes, and it smells of olive oil and lavender too!" he grinned.
"Oh..." Catherine groaned in frustration and struggled to sit up so she could swing her feet round.
"Sit still," he told her, "what are you after?"
"A Kleenex to wipe this damn stuff off my nose!"
"Stay there, he said, I'll get one for you, and then I'll make some more tea. And while we're drinking it, we can both go through those listings!"
"Well?" he asked as they finished their tea.
Catherine lifted his arm so that she could lean into his shoulder, and wriggled into the position she found most comfortable, "Well, we saw five houses today; I can't believe you dragged me around five damn' houses! But of them all, the only one I thought that met your criteria, and that I liked too was the one on Woodford Road in Vienna. I know it might be a little further out than would be ideal for either of us, but the prices inside the Beltway are just way too high. And it's not that far out, in terms of travel. It's almost at Tyson's Corner and from there it's a clear run down to Falls Church, and a clear run for me up to Langley. We wouldn't have to worry about steps like we saw at that place we liked in McLean, and that wasn't ideal in other respects, either. And" she added shrewdly, "you liked it too, didn't you?"
"Yeah, I did, it looked good. It was set back enough from the road, the back yard had a good fence, and it looked in good repair. Yeah, I liked it!"
"Enough to buy?" Harm nodded, "So, all else being equal, and if you're sure we can get the right price, yes, let's put an offer on it.
Harm nodded again, "Yep, let's do it!" He reached for the phone.
"Harm! Catherine's voice was suddenly alarmed. "We have to talk to our bank managers first, get a mortgage sorted out and..."
"Hey, cool your jets, there woman!" Harm said teasingly. "I wasn't going to call the realtor. I was going to call my mom so that you can tell her we'll be shacking up together. Besides, even if the vendors insist on the full list price, I've got it covered."
Catherine struggled upright and stared at him, speechless. "You... you've got it covered?" she finally stuttered.
"Yeah." Harm turned to face her. "When the courts granted mom's petition to have him declared legally dead, I received his GI insurance and all the survivor benefits. My step-dad, Frank, is a pretty shrewd businessman, and he set up a college fund for me, and then invested the money on my behalf. And every time I was sent any money for birthdays or Christmas, he added it to the fund. Well, when I was accepted at Annapolis, I didn't need the college fund, so Frank just kept it invested for me. It's been accumulating interest for the best part of thirty years. I don't know exactly how much it's worth today, but it will cover the purchase price of the house if we need it to. And apart from that, I own the lease on this place..."
"Harm..." Catherine's voice reflected the concern he saw in her eyes, "I... I thought we were going to go fifty/fifty on this?"
"We will and we are. I'll draw up a draft agreement showing how much your half of the share is, and then we set up an interest-free mortgage for that amount, where I'm the lender and you're the borrower. Don't worry; this was never going to be a free ride for you. But, it will be cheaper for you than paying a commercial lender. And with Elizabeth on the way, we're going to need every penny we can scrape up. Besides having to set up her college fund. We're both attorneys and I'm sure we've both got professional acquaintances and friends who'd check out the agreement, pro bono and look after our separate interests?"
"Yes... yes, of course I have, but it doesn't seem fair to place the entire load on your shoulders."
"Catherine, if it really bothers you, then how about... look, you thought you were going to have to come up with an equal share of the deposit, right? So... you still do that, but you pay that to me and it gets deducted immediately from the amount your borrowing, OK? That way you'll be paying your way right from the get go. And that's what's bugging you isn't it?
Catherine sank back against the cushions. What Harm had said made sense, and with the price of property in the areas they'd been looking, an interest-free mortgage would save of thousands of dollars over the years, and there would be no notary fees and no charges for setting up a mortgage, but... she still felt slightly uneasy as if she were taking advantage of him and his generosity. However, "OK Harm, we'll do it your way, if you insist."
"I most certainly do!" he said emphatically, as he reached out his arm and brought her back to where she could rest against him. "Now," he said, picking up the phone, "it's six o'clock in California, so...I ought to be able to get mom before she either sits down to dinner, or before she and Frank head out for the evening."
"Harm, no... please," Catherine protested weakly, "you've put me through enough this evening. I really can't just tell your mom right out like that, I can't!"
"I know you can't Catherine, and I never expected you to. This play is all mine!"
"Harmon Rabb!"
"Yeah, I know, I'm incorrigible!" He smiled apologetically at her. "Now, let me make this 'phone call, and then the worst will be all behind us. And don't worry, mom will love you."
He listened to the phone ringing on the other side of the continent and was prepared for it to go to voice mail, when a calm voice came over the wire, "Burnett."
Hi, Frank, it's Harm. Is mom with you?"
"Hello, Harm, yes, yes she is. I'll just go and get her for you."
x-x-x-x-x
A J Chegwidden sat in the lounge of his ranch style house on the northern outskirts of McLean, a half finished glass of single malt whisky in his hands as he stared moodily at the stone chimney breast at the far end of the room. He shook his head, he had badly miscalculated the way Rabb would respond to the offer to reinstate him in the navy in his former rank. But damn it! He had been right! Rabb had flagrantly demonstrated his lack of respect by resigning his commission rather than obey an order not to go in search of Mac. But... a nagging doubt bothered him. It was drummed into every officer, whether an academy graduate or NROTC or OCS, never to give an order that he wasn't sure would be obeyed. How had he ever thought that Rabb would obey an order not to go the rescue of the woman he loved? Or at the time thought he'd loved. And he admitted, he'd been unprofessional in his handling of Rabb when he'd brought MacKenzie safely back from Paraguay. He should have informed him calmly and succinctly that his papers had been processed and that he was effectively out of the navy. But he'd let his rancour fester and it had spilled out over Rabb in the form of a thoroughly unjustified and unpleasant personal attack, which as Rabb had said had humiliated him in front of Mac - whatever their relationship had become - and had apparently been loud enough to be overheard in the bull-pen. Congress had made A J Chegwidden an officer and a gentleman. But on that occasion he reflected he had not acted as an officer, or most decidedly not as a gentlemen. And that stung.
The admiral shook his head. It had all started to go to hell when Bud Roberts had stepped on that damn' mine. Events had spiralled so swiftly out of control that he, Chegwidden had lost his grip on the situation and, he now realised, on his staff.
He had cut Rabb free to sink or swim over the Singer case. He'd never doubted the man's innocence, so why had he acted the way he did? Why had he prohibited all contact between Rabb and his friends at JAG? The unpleasant truth, he realised was that he had done it to teach Rabb a lesson in humility; but he'd been so certain that Rabb wouldn't be found guilty, that he hadn't thought it had mattered. But it had mattered, Rabb had very nearly been convicted, and far from being humbled had become resentful, and had done very little to hide that resentment, becoming withdrawn and almost morose. And now Rabb had accused him of abandoning him when he needed his superior's support, and, Chegwidden grimaced as he took another sip of his whisky, Rabb had been right, he had been abandoned by his CO, and worse his CO had ordered the rest of his colleagues to abandon him too.
Rabb's not-guilty verdict had only served to make his own guilt the more strongly felt, and he had blamed Rabb for that too. And he now acknowledged that his treatment of Rabb since his acquittal had been fired by the anger he'd felt over feeling guilty. No wonder Rabb had lost respect for him. He hadn't deserved it. And the same held true for Rabb's lack of trust. Galindez had seen the same thing, and had said the same thing and Mac... Mac had strongly hinted that she felt the same way.
And how, he mused, would he have felt, if Rabb had returned from Paraguay with the news that Mac had been killed down there? How could he have lived with himself, or, his mood darkened even further, would Rabb have even given him the chance of living with his guilt? How could he have been willing, politics be damned, to even entertain the even the possibility that Mac might be in trouble without lifting a finger to help her, and to prohibit from doing so the one man who was willing to go to her aid. How could he have slipped so far into the political slime that he'd betrayed a code he'd lived and breathed for over thirty years? Could he have been so far removed from the honourable man he'd always thought himself to be that he was willing to let Mac die just to teach Rabb a further lesson in humility?
He shrugged his shoulders, it didn't matter now. He glanced at his bureau in the far corner of the room; even from here he could see the white envelope addressed to the Secretary of the Navy.
x-x-x-x-x
Harm drummed his fingers soundlessly on the arm of the couch and simultaneously drew Catherine closer into his side and angled the handset so that she could hear the voices coming from California.
"Hello, Harm, darling?"
"Hi, mom. Mom, can Frank hear us? I think he should."
"Wait one moment, darling, I'll get him to pick up in the other room."
Harm smiled, he could envisage his mom making impatient shooing motions with her hand and glaring at Frank. He wondered if she was wearing her reading glasses. Not that she'd ever admit that she ever wore them. The only person she allowed that privilege was Frank, although the secret had been known and silently acknowledged between the three of them for years.
"Hi, Harm, Trish, I'm here now."
"Mom, I just need you to know, that I've met a wonderful woman. Her name is Catherine, Catherine Gale. And we've just decided to buy a house and move in together."
"Oh, my God! Harmon, you could have warned me to sit down before you broke the news like that!"
Catherine's face fell at Trish's reaction, and Harm, in a reassuring gesture, held her tighter for a moment.
"Uh, mom, please moderate your excitement, Catherine's right here with me now, and can hear everything you say."
"Oh. Oh... I'm so sorry, Catherine, can you hear me?"
"Yes, I can hear you OK, Mrs..." Catherine stopped unsure of how to address her.
"I'm not Mrs anyone dear," Trish said, "You just call me Trish... or, would 'mom' be ..."
"It would be a bit premature, mom. Catherine and I are moving in together, and we're working things out, so maybe, 'mom' could be on the cards, but not just yet."
"If you're not certain, darling, and Catherine, I'm sorry if this sounds cruel, why are you setting up house together?"
Harm drew a deep breath, "Because of the baby, mom."
The line stayed silent for what seemed to be a very long time. When Trish spoke again her voice had become icy. "What baby?"
"Catherine is six months pregnant mom."
"I am disappointed in you Harmon Rabb. I would have thought that at your age you would have been more responsible!"
"Umm... mom..." Harm winced, and looked at Catherine, "the baby's not mine."
"Not yours?"
"No, mom. But she will be. It will be my name entered on her birth certificate as her father."
"Do you know who the father is?"
"No, mom, I don't know and I don't care. He fled the scene as soon as he found out Catherine was pregnant. Neither she nor our baby need to have him in their lives. But I need them in mine"
When she spoke again, some of the warmth had come back into Trish's voice, but she still sounded troubled. "It's a big step you're taking, Harmon."
"No bigger than the one Frank took. In fact, mom, I'm taking much less of a step. I won't have to contend with a surly, brutish, resentful teenager."
"Harm, darling, it's not an easy task to take on another man's child."
"I know mom, but I've had nearly thirty years of watching Frank do a damn good job, and I hope I've learned from his example. Frank has been as much of a father to me as I've allowed him to be. I just wish now, that I'd let him do all that he wanted for me. I'm going to have it much easier. I'll be there for our baby right from the second of her birth, so she'll have no-one to hold me up against, and hopefully won't resent me for not being her father. So I'll have a much easier ride, and if I've learned one thing from Frank, it's that I don't have to have contributed to our baby's genes to become her father."
Trish's silence allowed Frank to interrupt, "That's very generous of you Harm."
"Frank, it's not a cent on the dollar of what I owe to you."
"Harm, darling, do you think I could talk to Catherine?"
"Hello, Trish?" Catherine took the proffered 'phone.
"Hello, dear. Who is the man with you this evening, and what has he done with my son?"
"Trish, I believe he is your son, and he gets all the credit for being who he is now."
"I'm sure you must have had something to do with it dear?"
"It's good of you to say so, but if you think he's changed for the better, then it's all self-improvement."
"I see. How long have you known him dear?"
"Just about a year, Trish."
"And you're six months pregnant now?"
"Yes."
"Congratulations on your baby dear. Did I understand that Harmon called the baby a she?"
"Yes. She's going to be called Elizabeth."
"That's a lovely name, dear. Oh, my, I've just realised. Frank! Frank, darling, we're going to be grandparents!" Trish's voice faded to almost inaudible as she forgot about the phone in her hand and tried to talk directly to Frank through the open door.
"Catherine? "
"Yes, Mr...?"
"Call me Frank. Trish is a little bit over-excited at the moment. But from what I gather she would like you to come and visit us... but from what I understand, flying isn't exactly recommended after twenty-eight weeks?"
"No... And I don't think I would be comfortable being so far away from my doctor and my health care provider when I'm so far along..."
"I understand totally. But you'd best warn Harm, that his mother is likely to descend upon him and you in the very near future!"
"I'll tell him, Frank."
Harm gently took the phone from Catherine and spoke, "Frank, we seem to have overwhelmed mom, and I think Catherine's in pretty much the same boat. So I'm going to hang up now. We'll speak again tomorrow when we've all had a chance to catch our breath."
"Sounds like a good idea, son."
"Yeah. Goodnight... dad."
Harm placed the phone back in the cradle and turned to Catherine. He blew an exaggerated breath of relief and said, "That went pretty well, I thought!"
"Well...It went a lot better than it could have done. Your mom's quite something isn't she? I thought she was going to take set dead against me, and then she suddenly turned round and said that we were making her a grandmother! I can't believe it!"
"Catherine, my mom might not be the imp of mischief that your mom is... but in her own quiet little way, she's OK."
"Yeah, she is. I wondered where you'd got that from!"
x-x-x-x-x
Mattie Grace rubbed the tears from her eyes. She was not crying, she told herself defiantly, her eyes were watering because she was tired. She gritted her teeth and strained her eyes as the light from the low wattage bulb made concentrating on the columns of figures difficult. Adding up the figures again, she crossed out one figure from the one column and added it to the other and re-totalled them. There, if she could persuade the fuel company to wait for their payment for just another ten days, then she could make this month's payment to the bank and then pay the fuel bill from next week's earnings. What she really needed was the farmers who owed her money to pay their damn' bills on time.
She looked at her watch, the watch that had been her mother's, it was eight o'clock. Again she felt the tears in her eyes, "I'm sorry, mom," she whispered, "I don't know if I can do this any more"
It was eight o'clock on a Saturday evening, it was too early to go to bed, but it was already too dark, to read without a light, and although there might have been something worth watching on television, she'd had to cut back on the amount of electricity she used. That was one more bill that she'd had to watch like a hawk, so her only real choice was between sitting on the porch and star-gazing until it got too cold, or curling up in bed and trying to sleep.
x-x-x-x-x
It was just after eight o'clock on the Sunday morning that Harm parked the Lexus outside Catherine's apartment block and pressed the buzzer for entrance.
"Harm?" Catherine's voice came over the door intercom.
"Yeah, you expecting somebody else?"
"Only my lover," Catherine teased.
Although Harm knew she was joking he felt, for a second, that someone had just gut-punched him, "Ha, ha. Not funny!" he retorted.
"M'mm... OK, I won't tell you the next time I'm expecting him to call. But can you come on up, I could do with a hand here..."
Harm heard the buzz as she pressed the entry button, and took the stairs up to the second floor, where he found Catherine waiting for him with a traditional wicker hamper, a cold-box and what looked like a go-bag. Catherine smiled and came forward to greet him, lifting her face to his, placing her hands on his shoulders and leaning towards him as her bump prevented her from getting any closer. Harm looked into her eyes and knew a moment of doubt, was he getting the signals wrong? he asked himself, before he took a chance, bent his head to hers and gently kissed her lips, which were instantly soft and giving under his. Her acceptance encouraged him to continue the kiss, in the same gentle manner, and so it was some few seconds before he drew back. Catherine opened her eyes and looked up at him, "That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked, smiling.
"No, it wasn't bad at all," he replied, "I was just a little worried that I'd got the invitation wrong."
"Is that why you hesitated? It's not because you didn't want to?"
"Catherine, I've wanted to do that for days... I just wanted to be sure that it was what you wanted."
"I thought I'd answered that question last night."
"I thought you did too, but your answer took a few hours to sink into my brain, and by the time it had you'd gone home. And then in the best traditions of Harmon Rabb I started second guessing, you, me and the entire kiss thing."
"OK, now that we've broken the ice, so to speak, and I do like your method of ice breaking, let's make it quite clear, kissing is not only allowed, it is very much encouraged, so you don't need to wait for an invitation in the future. Is there anything in that statement that makes you think you might have to second guess any longer?" Catherine spoke severely, but again Harm saw the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and that twinkle of mischief that she'd inherited from her mother.
"Message received, five by five, ma'am!"
"Good. Now, sir, if you will, I could do with a hand with this. I can manage the cold-box, if you can take the bag and basket?"
"Now I know why you wanted me!" he mock-grumbled, "It wasn't for my brains, or my beauty, all you wanted was a strong back and a willing mind!"
"Not quite all," she said demurely, stepping into the elevator, and casting a sly glance up at him from under her eyelashes.
Harm was about to take her up on her words, and then as he felt his ears grow warm, he realised that maybe, he didn't really want to call her bluff, because it might just be that she wasn't bluffing!
"I was just thinking, about what you said, about invitations and second guessing, and it struck me that when you smile like that, you are the spitting image of your mom, and that made me think that maybe we could stop in at Kresge for an hour on our way home. I know we've planned to go and see her tomorrow anyway, but she might enjoy the extra visit. I know I would..."
Catherine looked at him doubtfully. That was either a very smooth and accomplished deflection away from a subject that had already made his ears turn pink. Or he really was that guileless, and was being totally open. Yes, she decided, he was looking back at her, his face totally open, and revealing nothing but the... hope... that she'd say yes, to his idea. Damn! She quickly dabbed at her eyes. He really did want to go and see mom, his face looked just like a little boy waiting to hear if he'd be allowed the treat he'd asked for!
Her quick dab at her eyes hadn't escaped Harm's notice. "Catherine. Are you alright? If you're not feeling up to it, we can cancel today..."
"I'm fine. Although I don't think that's a fair payback!" she smiled mistily at him.
"Huh? What?" he demanded ineloquently.
"Just because I teased you that I was expecting someone else, it isn't fair to use a girl's mom to make her jealous!"
"But... I... but I didn't... I mean..."
The 'ping' as the doors slid open to reveal one of the other residents of the apartment building waiting to take the elevator put an effective gag on Harm, as he shot a fulminating look at Catherine, who was threatening to dissolve in giggles.
"Here, give me that," he directed as he stowed her bag and the basket in the trunk of the Lexus and held out his hand for the cold-box, and placed it with the other items before closing hatch. "You are going to be so sorry for that last crack, he murmured in her ear, as arm around her waist he walked her to the passenger side door, "Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but someday soon and for the rest of your life!"
Her reaction was not at all what he'd expected, "Ohh, I loved that film!"
"Oh, it was a good film," he commented as he helped her up into the passenger seat, "but I preferred him in the 'African Queen'.
"Yes, of course you did," she told him with a smile as he closed the door on her, and walked around to the driver's side.
"Why would you say that?" he asked her, as he turned the key in the ignition.
"Well, Casablanca was a suspense thriller with the romance between Rick and Ilsa not quite connecting adding to the tension., while 'African Queen' was more like an action, road movie, buddy movie, with the romance between Hepburn and Bogart thrown in as a sop to the female audience. And it had such a sappy ending!"
"What's wrong with a happy ending? I suppose you'd have preferred it if they'd ended up like Thelma and Louise..."
With the two of them happily wrangling over film choices and different genres the Lexus carried them south to Charlottesville.
x-x-x-x-x
Mattie's early bed-time had resulted in her too early wake up, and after an hour of trying to get back to sleep she eventually gave up, quickly showering - she'd used up the last of the now only just-warm water, dammit, now she'd have to turn the water heater on again before she could get a hot shower - she grabbed the folder of bills, and shivering as she emerged into the chill morning, jumped into the beaten-up old truck and drove the couple of miles to the airfield, where she opened the hangar and heading straight for the office, she plugged in the electric kettle and still shivering slightly, made herself a cup of instant coffee before she faced the day. Casting a look of loathing at the bills folder, she pushed it to one side and looked at the booking board for the coming week. The three Ag Cats were all booked for each day, that was good, but that meant nine-hundred dollars a day in pilots' wages, and that was forty-five hundred for the week, and that wasn't even considering the mechanics' wages. She sucked her teeth, remembering the figures she'd gone over so many times last night. She'd have to let one of them go, but the logical choice was Frank, he was not only the newest mechanic, but was also the least skilled. The trouble was Frank had a wife and an eighteen month old son to look after. But the other guys had family too. And that damn money-pit, the twin engine Cessna 310 was still idle. She sighed, it had been her mom's idea to have the six seater available for charter, and mom would have been the pilot, but the capital outlay and the payments as well as its depreciation meant that it would have to go - if she could ever find a buyer!
So, it was back to the bills. She really needed to draft and then type a letter to the fuel company asking for a week's grace before paying their bill.
x-x-x-x-x
It was just after ten-thirty when Harm and Catherine, still happily squabbling over the merits or otherwise of various films arrived at Grace Aviation's Hangar. Mattie, who hadn't been expecting anyone to call on a Sunday morning, heard the arrival and wandered out of the office to see who had arrived, was just in time to see her newest pilot handing someone out of a silver Lexus, and as he stood to one side she saw that his companion was not only a woman, but an obviously pregnant woman!
Harm saw her standing by the hangar door, and taking hold of his companion's hand, he led her towards Mattie. "Hey, boss, I'd like you to meet Catherine... she's my..." he stopped, uncertain quite how to define Catherine without going into details which were nobody's business but their own.
Catherine gave him a look that Harm later realised could only be described as wifely exasperation and supplied the answer, "Hello, I'm Harm's girlfriend."
Mattie looked at Catherine and Harm and thought, wow! He kept that one quiet, then grinned and stuck out her hand, "Hi there, Catherine, I'm Mattie. I'm Harm's... boss."