Chapter 26: The News They've Been Waiting For

Author's Note: Long note tonight. Some of you may have to bear with me. The author's notes included with Chapter 25 got a lot of feedback. I feel duty bound to respond, but before I do….

Dear readers, fans, and critics, some of you have proven to be very intuitive in realizing the amount of research, time, and energy that go into this little creation and you have expressed your appreciation for my efforts. I am grateful beyond words for your kindness. Because staying true to reality with this work is a personal goal of mine, I greatly appreciate it when one of you kindly contacts me to let me know that I've made an error somewhere along the way. This allows me to fine tune things.

However, for those few readers who are more critic than fan, and only see fit to contact me anonymously, and I might add, very passive-aggressively when you find a minor error of very little consequence… please insert the sound of me blowing a raspberry here!

For those of you who are now scratching your heads in confusion because you have no idea what the previous paragraph was about, my apologies. In the interests of disclosure and accuracy, it is incumbent upon me to tell you that I have been informed that… I goofed again.

With all the other much more in-depth research that this particular piece of fiction requires, it didn't even occur to me to verify Christina Pickles height before writing chapter 25. I didn't even intend to mention her height when I began writing the chapter. It just kind of happened. That does occur when I hit my stride while writing. I mean really, how many women do you personally know who are even 5 foot 10, much less, taller? I know it's not impossible. It is, however, exceedingly rare to find a woman six feet tall!

So, for the record, according to information I found on the Internet last night after receiving the aforementioned review, Christina Pickles is reported to be two inches taller than Catherine Bell. To that end, the sentence about Mac needing more legroom in a vehicle than Trish has been removed from chapter 25.

Cheese and crackers! You'd think I was being paid for this. Actually, I'm kinda glad I'm not. If I were, I'm sure some know-it-all busybody would come along and suck all the fun out of it!

And now, on to the lighter stuff…

Steamboat: Why, thank you kind sir. As far as I'm concerned, calling me wicked is high praise indeed. Rita Mae Brown said, 'Lead me not into temptation; I can find the way there all by myself.' While I agree with the lady - I don't need any help getting there either - I still like to take other people along for the ride whenever possible!

Annie: You make me smile. Yes, Mac was definitely more vocal about her displeasure over the whole abstinence thing than Harm was, but honestly, when isn't Mac more vocal than Harm. I think the woman likes to make noise. He may not have said as much, but he didn't like it any more than she did. He had to let her know that…In his own way, of course.

(There may be some Scarpetta related spoilers in the next few paragraphs. Read the rest of this author's note at your own discretion.)

Also for Annie: Ordinarily, I completely agree with you. When an author starts resurrecting characters, it's usually a bad sign. Leave the dead buried; they'll just stink up the joint! That having been said, my introduction to Kay Scarpetta began with 'Point of Origin' the book in which Benton Wesley 'died.' My librarian recommended the book to me based on her knowledge of my own reading preferences. She mentioned in passing that it was part of a series. When finished with the book, I took it back to the library and informed her when she asked me how I liked it "I don't want any more of these books! She killed my favorite character! She murdered him! "

Needless to say, the mild-mannered librarian was a bit shocked, and it took her some doing after that to get me to agree to read Postmortem (book one). And yes, I know I'm not among the majority here, on various Scarpetta fan-based web sites, I am proudly, and I might add, stubbornly among the minority. Even with all his damn faults, flaws, and imperfections - and I readily admit that they are numerous - I adore Agent Wesley! When he made his less than grand return, I read with a truly indescribable blend of wonder, shock, horror, white hot anger and pure unadulterated joy. Holy cow! He lives! Well, wait, I can fix that! Come here you unrepentant, good for nothing, worthless, miserable, lying son of a…. I'm going to kill you! And this time you won't be coming back darlin'. How dare you die and not tell me that you were still alive! How dare you make me grieve for you!" Oh, I screamed, I laughed, I cried, I praised God, and then I stomped around pissed off at the man for more than six months. We're finally back on speaking terms, he and I, but some days I still have to suppress the urge to whack him over the head with a cast iron skillet.

In the early books, I wanted to be a less damaged version of young Lucy Farinelli. I wanted to follow Aunt Kay around the morgue looking at her various scientific crime fighting gadgets and gizmos. "What's that? How does it work? What does it do? How does it help you catch bad guys? Can I touch it? Back then, in the eyes of her frightened, angry, neglected, ten-year-old niece Aunt Kay was a god. She was the one grumpy old Marino affectionately dubbed the 'Doctor, Lawyer, Indian chief.' And it was a title she deserved. In recent years I think Kay has begun to believe too much in her author's press. As we here in the Southern United States like to say, she's gotten a bit 'too big for her own britches.' The series was already sliding downhill, but I really lost my feel for it in 'Port Mortuary' when Cornwell up and decided to change Kay's well-deserved title to 'Doctor, Lawyer, Indian chief, & Air Force Colonel.'

Cornwell has never exhibited the best grasp of time. All of her other characters seem to age normally while Kay somehow magically stays the same age, or at least very close to it. Additionally, I can understand how attending law school might make a driven forensic pathologist better at her job, but in the early books, I seem to recall it was stipulated that medical school came first. Cornwell decided, in 'Port Mortuary' to reverse this, stating that law school came first, and then Johns Hopkins, followed by the Air Force because they offered to help pay for all that schooling in exchange for her service with AFME. Something went wrong, and she did the honorable thing and refused to sign off on an Air Force cover up. After which, they politely invited her to leave the Air Force and basically bought her silence, somehow magically setting her up in a job she was still too young to hold in the Richmond, Virginia Medical Examiner's office. While she was busy doing all this, she somehow managed to get married, divorced, and be the only decent parent figure in little Lucy's life. Yes, if you ask me, her joining the Air Force was just over the top; way over. It made her untouchable. With each passing book it gets harder and harder to relate to her. That's never a good thing to do with your prime character. Being superwoman is fine, being superwoman three times over? Now, that's just horse hooey! No doubt, the decision to make her military came on the heels of everything that's taking place in the Middle East, but it came twenty years into the series as something that was part of her past. What, we're just supposed to believe she wouldn't have mentioned something like that at some point in the previous two decades? First, timeline-wise it just didn't fit. Second, I think it was also a poor decision on Cornwell's part because it was a virtual flap in the face to people who actually do serve in the military. At least, that's the way I read it. What next? Kay Scarpetta for president? Twenty years ago, I would've backed that candidacy. Not today!

Hazmatt: I'm not sure how the timing of Cornwell's deciding to switch from first person to third person in her writing corresponds with her real life or what may have affected the decision. It's rather obvious to me that she's working out some of her own real- life issues via her writing, and that's okay. I've resolved a few of my own issues doing the same thing. But yes, the books are better in first person writing. Then again, I almost always think first person writing is best. She won't switch back to first person writing until…. Oh, I believe it was 'Port Mortuary'. While I didn't like the story within, the writing was better. 'Red Mist' was still bad but better than 'Port Mortuary.' 'The Bone Bed' was the first book I've truly enjoyed in years, and I haven't read the two that followed it yet. Books 1 through about 6 or 7 were the best by far. There are currently 22 in the series and I'm sure we're due for another one soon. It usually takes her about a year to write and publish the next novel. Number 5, 'The Body Farm still remains my all-time favorite Scarpetta novel. It told the story of a truly ugly crime that broke my heart, but the story was very well told and without most of Scarpetta's recent paranoia, and neurosis.

Yes, I'm aware of the Rizzoli and Isles series by Tess Gerritsen, though I haven't read any of them yet. Should I start at the beginning, or can you recommend a favorite?

Okay, I'm done now. Oh wait, you actually would like another chapter of the story? Okay, if you insist…

Thursday, January 17, 2008

San Diego Joint Legal Services Offices

1646 HRS

Mac squints in response to what she hears over the telephone line. She breathes deeply and allows the woman to come to a pause as she sits at her desk feeling like she's being wound up like a jack inside his box; stress mounting with each turn of the crank while he waits to be sprung free when the pressure sensitive latch finally gives.

"Colonel, Colonel are you still with me?"

"Yes Marisol, I'm sorry, I'm still here. Can't you just tell me what I need to know?"

"Sorry Ma'am, the doctor doesn't like for us to have these kinds of conversations over the phone, even with verbal consent. In your case, I literally can't. When you filled out your patient information a couple of years ago you wrote down that we should discuss medical issues in person. We can change that if you want, but you'll have to come in to the office in order to do that. We're open until 6:30 today if you can make it, if not, we close tomorrow at three."

Mac sighs with resignation. "Okay. I understand."

"I really am sorry M…. darn it! I'm a little confused, am I supposed to call you Mrs. Rabb or Colonel Mackenzie? Captain Rabb referred to you as Mrs. Rabb a couple of weeks ago, but the nice girl who answered the phone a few minutes ago called you Colonel Mackenzie."

Mac chuckles. "The nice girl who answered the phone is Petty Officer Coates, and the answer is, I'm both. I don't remember making a conscious decision about it, but it seems to have been universally agreed upon without discussion that I'm still Colonel Mackenzie when I'm at work, which simplifies things for the Marine Corps, and I'm Mrs. Rabb everywhere else. However, I will answer to either. Of course, we could just simplify things. It is okay for you to just call me Mac."

The nurse laughs quietly. "Dr. Thayer calls you Sarah."

Mac grimaces, realizing she hasn't exactly made things better. "Rebecca prefers Sarah. She's more comfortable with it. She likes first names. I've noticed I'm not her only patient who calls her by her first name. That's not exactly typical."

"You've got a point there."

"Call me whichever you're most comfortable with Marisol. I'll answer."

The friendly nurse chuckles again. "Is that kind of like, 'Call me anything, just don't call me late for dinner?"

"Now that would upset me." Mac declares laughing. "I'll be there today Marisol. Just give me some time to finish up for the day and maybe rearrange a few things on my schedule. Tomorrow is not good at all. Busy day, plus everyone will be preoccupied with weekend plans, and Laura has therapy in the afternoon. There's no way I can get there before you close tomorrow. Her therapy session isn't over until 16:30…uh… That's 4:30 PM in civilian-speak."

"Thank you! I was just about to ask. I find it hard enough to keep track of time even without the military lingo."

"Well, I need to get off here. I'll see you early this evening before you close. Right now, I need to go see a judge about a bar brawl."

The nurse says okay and hangs up before she takes time to wonder if the woman on the other end of the phone was serious or just trying to be funny. She squints at the handset after she returns it to its cradle. She mutters quietly to herself, "I've heard of… man about a horse, but judge… about a bar brawl."

What's wrong Marisol? You look confused, and you're muttering to yourself again. You know I don't mind that at all. I do it too." Her employer leans over the computer console at the nurse's work station and whispers discreetly, "But try not to do it in view of the patients." She smiles brightly; showing she's teasing every bit as much as she isn't. "They might start to think that your cheese has slid off its cracker… and that could potentially be… ten different kinds of bad. We really need them to trust us. It's not a good idea to make the mommies and daddies of the tiny humans nervous. Pandemonium could strike!"

The nurse looks around apologetically. "I'm sorry. You're right. I don't think anyone heard me… Well except for you. I was just trying to figure out if she was joking or not."

"If who was joking, and about what?"

"The patient on the phone .… uh, Colonel Sarah, uh…Mrs. Rabb."

The doctor smiles; familiar with her nurse's harmless quirks. She nods with certainty. Colonel Sarah Mackenzie- Rabb doesn't joke; at least not so that I'm aware of. I don't know if it's the Marine in her, or the lawyer, but if she told you she was going to see a judge about a bar brawl, that's exactly what she meant. Is she coming in later?"

"She said she'd be here, Doctor."

"Good! That's really good!" Dr. Rebecca Thayer walks away from the nurses' station on her way to attend to her next patient with a smile on her face.

Harrell Residence

1714 HRS

Mac pulls to a stop on the narrow soft dirt driveway beside the trailer where her niece's best friend lives. She steps out of the Jeep, smiles, and waves at the familiar and mildly surprised little face visible through the kitchen's large bay window. She trots up the steps of the small but tidy porch two at a time and wraps gently, if urgently, against the screen door before opening it.

It's Laura who opens the front door, just a crack, and pokes her head out. Grinning comically, she asks, "What are you doing here?" I thought Uncle Harm was coming to get me today on his way home from work. It's not time yet." She shakes her head with certainty. "It only just got dark a few minutes ago. He'd better be okay." She frowns at the unsettling thought as it passes through her young mind.

"I'm sure he's fine. I left the office a few minutes early because I have to run by the doctor's office. You're on my way, so I thought I'd pick you up. After we leave the doctor's office, we'll go find Uncle Harm together."

Laura's eyes grow wide with equal parts excitement, anticipation, and mild fear as Beth Harrell arrives, wiping her hands on a dish towel, to see who's at her front door. "Oh, it's you. Don't stand on the doorstep like a stranger. Come on in."

Mac smiles with appreciation at the younger woman's warm greeting. "Thanks, but I can't today Beth. I need to be somewhere. I've got to grab her and run… Maybe next time?"

"Next time it is then." Liam's mother says in good humor. To Laura she says, "Run and grab your things; quick." She reaches down and pats the child's back as she trots away from the door somewhat awkwardly without her walker.

They're in the car and already on their way for nearly five minutes before the quiet little girl in the back seat speaks up. "How come you're going to see the doctor? Did you have an appointment today?"

Mac glances into the rearview mirror briefly. "No appointment."

Laura squints thoughtfully. "Do you feel bad? You're not getting sick are you, Aunt Mac?"

"I don't feel bad. I'm not getting sick; and you worry too much. I don't know why we're going to the doctor's office. The nurse called and said she needed to speak to me; only she couldn't do it over the phone. So, we're going to see her."

"Oh okay." Laura replies; somewhat mollified as she rubs her dog's ears. After a moment of thoughtful silence, she says, "I hope the doctor has good news."

Mac declares quietly, "I hope so too, baby."

San Diego Fertility Clinic

1742 HRS

Mac sits in the chair in her doctor's office and tries to make sense of the printout in her hand. In her mind, she's somewhere between unadulterated joy and utter devastation. Test results positive. What does that mean? Is that good? Wait, sometimes positive is bad. Is this one of those times? She can't think clearly, and she can't decide which way to lean. She needs a drink of water. Her mouth has gone as dry as the Sahara. She shouldn't have come here without Harm. She wants to leave. She can't. Without looking up, she reaches over to the seat beside hers and places a gentle hand on Laura's swinging legs; trying to still them. The backs of the little girl's sneakers are thumping against the chair legs and making a disconcerting noise. The nurse said it would be okay to bring her in here. Maybe that means it's not bad news. Mac doesn't know.

Unsure if she's been quietly chastised for making too much noise, or not, Laura glances at her aunt curiously while Dr. Thayer is saying something that only partially registers in Mac's mind; something about trying to reach the captain.

She frowns apologetically. "I'm sorry." She interrupts. "Did you say something about trying to reach Harm?"

"Yes, of course I did. We like to have both perspective parents present for these kinds of visits but when Marisol called him this afternoon, the staff member who took the call informed her that Captain Rabb was locked in a room with a couple of admirals, and that he wasn't likely to come out any time soon. I'm not sure if that means he's having a bad day or a good one."

Mac shrugs thoughtfully tilting her head from side to side; grateful for the temporary reprieve from her own worries. If he's literally locked in… It's probably not the best day he's had recently."

"Then you haven't talked to him today either?"

"No, but it's not uncommon for Harm and I not speak to each other during the workday; we each have our respective offices to run. It wasn't a pleasant day in my office either. I tried to call him after Marisol reached me. I got the same response she did. 'He's locked in Ma'am.' I wanted to demand, 'Well go unlock the door and let him out!" She smiles tersely. "However, the military doesn't work that way."

"And you had your own issues to deal with today. Something about a judge and a bar brawl?" The doctor smiles and stretches her eyes wide.

Mac shakes her head. "Believe me; it's nowhere near as interesting as it sounds."

"I don't know about that. Judges… Bar brawls… Closed door sessions with admirals. It all sounds very intriguing to me, but what do I know? All I do is help people make babies."

"Hey! Don't sell yourself short. If you tell me this piece of paper has good news on it… You're about to become one of the most important people in my life! What does all this mean? I see lots of medical-ese I don't understand, a few negatives, and a multitude of positives. Just tell me in plain English. Is this good or bad?"

Laura places her small arms around her aunt's arm and hugs it tightly.

Rebecca Thayer steps around the corner of her desk and perches lightly against the edge as she offers the two of them a bright encouraging smile. "All that medical mumbo jumbo is indeed good news; actually, it's very good news. It took us a few tries to… you might say, 'set the right mood.' They were uncooperative and stubborn at first, didn't like we humans interfering with their private business, but eventually we found the right balance. That's when those few negatives started turning into positives. I've got lots of potential babies ready and waiting; twenty-seven of them to be exact. All they need now is a receptive, warm, belly to incubate in for the next nine months."

"Twenty-seven!" The exclamation comes from Laura. "I don't want that many cousins! That's too many; way too many!"

The doctor pulls a couple of tissue from the box on her desk and passes them over to her patient as she kneels before Laura. She willingly talks to the girl, distracting her, in order to give Mac a chance to quietly rein in the tightly controlled emotions that are threatening to run amok.

"I promise you, Laura, you aren't going to have twenty-seven cousins. I'm hoping we won't have to use them all… Maybe only half, and even if we do use half, you won't even have 13 cousins. It's a little sad, but most of the embryo won't survive the process of surrogacy."

Laura nods receptively; without fear or sorrow. "I know. Embryos are just what you doctors call babies before they get big enough to see without a microscope. Aunt Mac and Uncle Harm told me already. I just didn't know you could make that many; twenty-seven is a lot!"

Dried eyed and caught somewhere between laughter and a fresh wave of happy tears; Mac crumples her tissues into the palm of her hand and hugs her niece fiercely.

Laura's giggle is muffled as she returns her aunt's warm, hug for a long moment before softly complaining, "Uh… Aunt Mac… You're squishing me!" She waits a few more seconds before adding, "Seriously, it's kinda hard to breathe here."

SPECWAR

1822 hours

In the elevator, on the way up, Mac lectures the excited little girl patiently as she straightens the collar of her small blouse, "When the elevator doors open, don't run out of here run speed racer-style across the bullpen and barge into his office. A good many of his staff might be on their way home by now, but he may still be busy. I know you're excited, I am too, but please don't get him in trouble with a couple of admirals, okay?"

Laura nods very seriously and waits impatiently for the doors to open. When the doors finally slide open, she sighs heavily as though she's aged ten years in the span of time it took to take an elevator ride.

Mac carefully holds the door open for her, making sure she has enough time to get her walker over the elevator's slatted metal threshold without tripping.

Once clear of the doors, she takes a few steps and then grins happily at the sight before her. Her uncle is shaking hands with two men in naval uniforms only a few feet away.

"Uncle Harm?" She inquires with polite caution.

"All three men turn to face her wearing curious expressions. Harm's is a mixture of both delight and confusion.

"Excuse me for a moment please, sirs?"

The two men nod and Harm glances at his watch briefly as he opens his arms to the small girl. "Sweetheart, what are you doing here?" He catches sight of his wife as he lifts his niece's feet off the floor and he smiles somewhat sheepishly. "I wasn't late yet… Was I?"

Laura hugs him happily. "No, you're not late. We came to see you, because we got good news."

"News that's so good it couldn't wait until I got home?"

She nods mutely with wide excited eyes.

He jiggles her as if trying to gently shake the words out of her. "Well, don't keep me in suspense, girl! You came all the way over here just to tell me… Spill it!"

"Actually Harm…" Mac politely eyes the two rear admirals who were obviously getting ready to leave for the day. "It might be best if we wa…"

But with all the permission she intends to wait for, Laura has already begun to speak before her aunt's attempt to stall her even registers. With great enthusiasm, she rapidly relates far too much information, "The nurse called Aunt Mac at work, but she wouldn't tell Aunt Mac why she called; not on the phone. She tried to call you too, but you're too busy. Anyway, the nurse said that she needed to talk to us. So, Aunt Mac came to get me, and we went to see the doctor. She's nice. I like her. She says that you and Aunt Mac made lots of teensy-tiny little babies!"

"Oh Laura!" Mac groans as Harm nearly bites his bottom lip off; trying not to laugh aloud.

"What?" Laura eyes her aunt with supreme confusion. "You said don't run through the bullpen. I didn't. You said don't barge in because he might be busy. I didn't do that either." She shrugs comically and offers a bright smile. "You didn't say don't tell him!"

When the two senior officers present begin to laugh with delight; Harm gives up, throws back his head, and laughter roars out of him. He hugs his niece fiercely and steps forward to offer his wife a modest embrace. "Looks like she's got you there, Marine!"