Mommy Dearest

Chapter 12
Uniform Code

Harmon Rabb sat back in his seat with a silent sigh of relief. He could not believe how complex and complicated a task it had been to get five adults and an infant to the airport on time and with all their belongings. Especially when three of the adults were navy officers with a habit of obedience to orders, practice in packing and being ready for movement when the executive order was given. Yet Frank and Trish had been equally prepared, so just what the hell was it that had been the disruptive element? The only other factor, and one he had admittedly dismissed, was Alexandra, but how could a twelve-day old baby have caused such havoc?

Trish looked across the aisle at her harassed son; his thoughts were plain to see for anyone who knew him, especially his mother, and she looked from him towards Loren, sat with Alexandra's portable crib safely strapped into the seat next to her. Harm would learn, she reflected with an inward smile, Harm would learn. Especially when Jennifer presented him with his own daughter - she had learned that Jen was convinced it was a girl-child she was carrying. In the meantime, Alexandra was very capable of teaching Harm a lesson or two.

Harm felt his mother's gaze on him and looked back at her with a questioning expression on his face, Trish's smile told him that all was well, he had done all he could to get everything in order and it wasn't his fault that the plane was some twenty-odd minutes behind schedule. He grinned wryly in return and thinking that if Mac had been with them, although she might not have done anything to ease his difficulties, she could at least have told him, with that uncanny accuracy of hers, exactly how many minutes they were adrift Still, it had only been today that anything had happened to upset his plans. His mission on Saturday had gone well, and the fruits of it he had collected yesterday and they were now safely stowed with the rest of the baggage in the 'plane's hold, and he had even managed to keep his secret from Jen who had used every feminine wile in the book to winkle it out of him, and some tricks, he remembered with a grin, that were not only in the book but were probably illegal, were certainly immoral and very, very private. He just hoped that he hadn't seriously misjudged in his intentions, but he had faith he had not.

The only other cloud on his personal horizon hadn't actually been a black cloud, more of a dingy grey. Trish had taken Jen and Loren on a shopping expedition on Monday afternoon and Frank had had to call in at the corporate headquarters in the business district of San Diego, leaving only Harm to care for his niece. Alexandra hadn't cared a bit whom held her or saw to her needs, as long as they were seen to, but Loren had only with great difficulty been persuaded that not only did she need a short break - no more than three hours - Trish promised, but that Harm was quite capable of supervising Alexandra while she slept. And for the first couple of hours that had been so, and even when Alexandra woke and demanded that she be fed Harm had had no problem in retrieving the specially marked bottle from the fridge and warming it gently in accordance with the printed instructions he had been left. Shortly after the bottle, however it became apparent that Alexandra was adding he own particular fragrance to the atmosphere and was communicating her discomfort in no uncertain terms. Vague memories of testing water temperature with an elbow and the necessity of the application of baby powder jostled in Harm's mind and what happened next was probably the most prolonged exercise in diaper changing in the history of human evolution. Eventually a now content Alexandra decided that she was comfortable enough to resume her interrupted slumber, leaving a harassed Harm to contemplate his methods and their errors and to clean up the disaster zone that had, until he'd started on what should have been a simple procedure, been the bathroom.

The return of an excited female trio laden with large carrier bags blazoned with the names of some of La Jolla's more expensive women's wear shops had done nothing to improve his mood, and for the first time in years he'd wished for a cigar.

During that evening Jen and Trish, and to a lesser extent, and to his surprise Loren, had coaxed and cajoled him into a better humour, so that when Frank had returned from San Diego he had been able to greet him with a fair degree on insouciance, and was able to join him on the patio for a beer with no more than a wry and humorous recounting of the events of the afternoon.

Jen had confounded him that evening. He had retired to bed to find it already occupied by Jen - they had given up all pretence of having separate rooms - but a Jen who was crying softly. Shaken by her apparent distress, he had been utterly surprised by her turning to him, and smiling through her tears had sniffled that nothing was wrong, she was so very, very happy and that Trish and Frank were far too kind to her, much kinder than she deserved, and that she wasn't able to tell him what was wrong. The lawyer in him recognised the contradictory nature of her statement, but the man in him decided it was best to keep quiet, and that it was probably just hormones kicking in. He was to remember that diagnosis in later months and wince at his naivety.

The remaining three days had passed without any major upsets, although Loren's prickles had shown through a couple of times. Interestingly enough, he noted that her wariness seemed confined to him, and not directed at Trish, Frank or Jen, and on mentioning this to Jen, she replied smugly enough that she and Loren had come to some sort of understanding, and that it was all his fault, and as for Loren not showing her hackles to Trish, well that was no surprise; nobody, Jen declared, could possibly dislike or stay mad at Trish for very long. Uneasily aware that that the three women in his life seemed to have formed an unholy trinity, that they were spending a lot of time cloistered in Loren's room, and that circumstance and the relationship between them could have possibly disastrous long-term consequences for him, Harm decided to let the question of Loren's quirks drop. He retained however a slight sense of uneasiness as he tried to forecast Loren's possible reactions to the surprise he had in store for her.

Had he known of Loren's feelings, Harm would have probably felt a common link. Loren had survived for fifteen years on her own. She had fought hard to get where she was and had developed what she had thought to be a hard shell around her inner self, as well as an independent spirit. She now, to her consternation, found herself bound up in a situation where everything in her life seemed to be spinning out of control. Not only was she now a mother, someone whom she had not expected be for a few years yet, but it also felt like Trish had penetrated her armour and had assumed command of her very being and that she was making all the decisions. True, she proposed her ideas, listened to any objections Loren might raise, agreed with her that Loren was probably right, but then Loren somehow found that she was doing exactly what Trish had suggested in the first place. But Trish did what she did with such an air of innocent helpfulness that even while she recognised that she was being played, Loren could not be angry with her.

It was impossible too, to be angry with Frank. He appeared to take a background role to his lively wife, but she had noticed that whenever Trish was on the verge of being just a little too pushy, a glance and a raised eyebrow from Frank were sufficient to rein her in. Frank it seemed was more in control that was apparent at first sight. He had also more or less openly declared that he was on her side. He confided in her that the combination of Trish and Harm was a powerful alliance, and as he knew from personal experience, very difficult to withstand, and the addition of Jen, bound as she would be to Harm, could make life very difficult for both himself and Loren, and that unless they made up their minds to hang together they would be more than likely be hanged separately. While she recognised the source of his misquotation, it would be untrue to say that his over-dramatic use of the metaphor reduced her to giggles, but it did bring a smile of genuine amusement to her face, and she was grateful for his assurance that he wouldn't let her be pushed into anything she really objected to and that he would keep her and Alexandra's best interest at heart, and that he would intervene against anything proposed by anybody that he thought was contrary to those interests. That he informed her included Loren herself. So she had best stop being so damn' tiresome about finding a motel room until she could move back into her old apartment, and just accept, for the weekend at least, that she and Alexandra would be staying as his guests in the Hilton, where he had reserved rooms not just for Trish and himself but also for Jen and for Loren with Alexandra.

She'd had a couple of spats with Jen too, mostly because she thought Jen was trying a little too hard to be nice to her and was being a little too generous. She had after their second argument - on the subject of the dress for Loren's role as matron of honour - been slightly mollified when Jen had explained that she hadn't meant to suggest that Loren couldn't have provided herself with a suitable outfit, it was just that she wanted to do something for her in celebration of Alexandra's entry into the world., and Jen had been careful to choose a style that Loren could wear as an evening dress and in the blonde's favourite light blue shade,

Not that Jen had been entirely truthful; yes, she had wanted to do something for Loren to mark Alexandra's arrival, but she also knew that even on a Lieutenant's pay Loren would, perhaps not struggle, but would find it a challenge to provide a Washington's apartment high-rent cost and meet all the additional expense that raising Alexandra would incur, and would hardly be able to indulge herself in luxuries. Jen, before Loren's departure on leave, had seen her on a few occasions in civilian dress and had been impressed with the other woman's sense of style and taste, and she guessed that the new mother would miss not being able to present herself to the world in the manner to which she had been formerly used. Additionally, Jen had been grateful to accept a bundle of maternity clothes at a negotiated price that would not only save her far more money in the coming months than she had spent on the elegantly understated dress she had presented to Loren, but were also as stylishly designed and cut as their purpose would allow. A far cry, she thought wryly, from the maternity uniform she would have to wear, certainly for her third trimester, and depending on how big she got, maybe even earlier.

The flight east was uneventful, well almost, Trish had produced her favourite time-passing tool, her game of Travel Scrabble, and even Loren, although officially excusing herself from the game, had double-teamed with Frank to make life difficult for the other three players, and had shown an inventiveness and tactical sense that made Harm glad that he wasn't going head to head with her, until Alexandra had interrupted proceedings with her need for nourishment and a diaper change. Loren had turned away from the others to allow herself some privacy for the first part of Alexandra's programme, but had allowed Harm to observe just how a diaper should be changed. A learning experience, she told him with heavy sarcasm, that he might just come to appreciate in times to come.

The necessary re-fuelling stop at Oklahoma City had given them all the welcome opportunity to stretch their legs, although the Gulfstream allowed far more space for each individual than even the most comfortable of first class seats on a commercial flight.

As Frank had said, one of the advantages of private charter flights was the speed, once they had landed at DC's Ronald Regan airport, with which they were able to deplane and have their luggage loaded into the Chrysler MPV rental that he had organised and the now-tired party were soon headed for the Washington Hilton Hotel.

Harm still had two more tasks before he could finally head back to the Union Station district and turn in. He had to collect Jen's dress whites from the apartment she shared with three other female Petty Officers, thankfully none of them employed at JAG, and the delivery of the surprise package he had been so busy arranging during his time in La Jolla. However, a last minute change of plan caused him a little concern.

"Harm, it'll be easier and raise fewer questions if I go with you to my old place to pick up my dress whites."

While agreeing that Jen's plan would be more discreet, he hoped that she wouldn't remark on the package that he had deliberately left in the Chrysler, at present their only form of transport. As he considered this, a solution to at least two of their problems sprang to mind. "Jen that's a damn' good idea and I think that we could kill two birds with one stone. After we collect your stuff, let's swing by the apartment, and I'll pick up the 'vette, the extra set of wheels will come in handy. I'm half expecting Keeter and Skates to call from the railroad station asking to be picked up, either tonight or early tomorrow morning; I don't expect them to travel in uniform, so they'll probably want to arrive early and give themselves time to change!"

"Whatever you say, my darling!" Jen's tone was so honey-sweet that Harm shot her a suspicious glance. He was not reassured by what he saw; she looked for too innocent to be anything other than guilty. I knew it, he thought, she's plotting something! Hastily running through all the arrangements that had been made to ensure the smooth conduct of tomorrow's programme he could find nothing that she could, or would want to disrupt, but he remained unconvinced as to the nature of whatever it was that Jen had got planned. But even with his limited, but rapidly growing, knowledge of her, he realised that he was unlikely to get anything more out of her. More? He asked himself, she hadn't let out a damn' thing!

To his relief, nothing happened to disrupt his hastily amended plans for that evening. Jen spent very few minutes in her apartment and reappeared with a suit-bag and her cover, which she carefully loaded into the Chrysler before settling back into the front passenger seat.

"That was quick work," Harm said as he aimed the rental in the direction of Union Station.

"Yes, it was," she agreed, and then taking pity on him, she added, "they were as full of questions as an egg is of meat, but I just told them that I'd answer them all after tomorrow - I just didn't say how long after tomorrow!"

Grinning at her words, Harm continued to drive. In truth, he could not do anything other than admire the way in which she had handled two or possibly three other inquisitive women, who must have been eaten alive with curiosity over her sudden and to them unexplained week long absence and then her sudden reappearance and equally rapid disappearance.

Once outside his apartment, he grabbed his package off the seat of the Chrysler and waving her off, he watched and waited until she had driven out of sight, before backing the 'vette out of the garage and heading back to the Hilton.

The package which he had now unwrapped proved to be a suit bag, which he carried slung over one forearm as he made his way along the hallway to Loren's room. Knocking on the door he heard her ask "Yes, who is it?"

"Loren, it's Harm, I need to talk with you for a few minutes."

"Can't it wait?"

"Er... no, I need to speak with you now, please."

"Alright, wait a minute."

The door opened to reveal Loren tying the belt of one of the hotel's bath robes in which she was wrapped. "Come on in then, but don't make a noise, I've just got her to go down, and I don't need her waking again until she decides. What's so all-fired important that it can't wait until tomorrow?"

Now that the time had come, Harm found himself unaccountably tongue-tied. This phase of his plan was unexpectedly proving to be the most difficult. "Er... it's this," he said indicating the suit-bag. "I... er... really don't want to cause offence, and I know you've had a lot to put up with Jen and Trish bullying you into accepting your dress... but... as the uniform of the day is dress whites, you might want to... you might prefer... er... that is..."

Suspicion had been growing in Loren's eyes as Harm had fumbled his way through his explanation, and holding her hands out she wordlessly accepted the suit-bag that he had proffered. Laying it on the bed, she unzipped the bag to reveal a pristine, brand new suit of dress whites, complete with her badges of rank and her medals. In her surprise, her first instinct was one of anger, and spinning back to face Harm, she demanded. "Just what the hell is this? How dare you..." and then as realisation dawned, she said, "No... it's not about me, is it... This is for Jennifer isn't it? But how did you... I mean... so quickly, and how did you guess my size... oh... that sneaky, devious, unprincipled girl! You two deserve each other!" She then smiled, a genuine, warm specimen of a Loren Singer smile, and added "Harm, I really mean that, you two do deserve each other, and I hope you will be very happy together. And Harm, thank you for this," she indicated the uniform on the bed, "but you'll have to let me repay you."

Relieved at her acceptance of his gift, Harm replied, "Not to worry about it Loren," but then seeing her about to protest, "There's no rush, whenever is best for you."

Loren smiled her acknowledgement, while understanding that he was determined that she should never repay him, but equally determined that she would do just that. She checked the contents of the suit-bag, jacket, skirt, cover, two blouses and black tab, but she smiled, how typical of a man. If she was going to wear this tomorrow, she would need to be out and about damn' early tomorrow so she could find both regulation purse and a pair of shoes, but right at this moment she would rather have died than to comment on his oversight. But, "Why two blouses, Commander?"

"Well, all the other measurements I cribbed from Jen's notes while she was measuring you for the dress, but it would have been a little too obvious if she had taken your neck size, and I had to guess, so I got two different size blouses, I just hope one will fit!"

"I'm sure one of them will. Harm, thank you, thank you very much!"

"Loren, I'm hoping all the thanks I need I'll get when I see Jen's face tomorrow!"

Wishing her a good night, he let himself out of her room, and mopping his forehead he thought to himself, that went well! And for once there was no sarcasm to his thought. So with a lighter heart, he made his way back to the parking garage slid into the 'vette and drove home to the apartment.