Mommy Dearest
Chapter 28
It's Moving Day!
Jen finished cramming the last of the used bed-linen into the black trash-bah and tying off the top, she squashed it down and sat cross-legged on it, a grin creasing her face as she watched her grouch of a husband make his breakfast coffee and pour hot water over the tea-bag in her cup. A plate of toast lay on the coffee table and Jen was merely waiting for Harm to join her before eating her last breakfast in their apartment.
Harm brought the two steaming mugs across the room and squinting balefully through the now drape-free window at the only just gray dawn sky, placed them carefully on the coffee table and snagged a cushion off the couch before lowering himself gingerly to the floor.
Jen repressed an unwifely giggle. Despite her amusement she did feel some sympathy for his disgruntled mood. Somehow the two concepts of Harm and early morning just didn't fit in with the whole cosmic plan, especially at weekends when he figured he had earned the right to sleep-in for an extra hour or two.
Harm took a sip of his coffee, muttering inaudibly as he burned his tongue. Glowering across the table he almost snarled at Jen, "Tell me again. Why did we get up at such an ungodly hour, when we're not expecting anything to happen until oh-seven-thirty at the earliest?"
"Umm, that's when you go to pick up the trailer, right?"
"Yeah."
"And by the time you get back it'll be, what, oh-eight-thirty?"
"H'mm... yeah, s'pose so."
"And what time is the rest of the gang supposed to be here?"
"Oh-nine-hundred hours."
"So... how much time does that leave us to deal with any outstanding matters, or handle any last minute emergencies?"
"Ummm... the half hour between oh-eight-thirty and when the crew arrives."
"Just so, Jen smiled affably, "But you're forgetting, that we also have the time - approximately an hour - between finishing breakfast and you leaving to pick up the trailer!"
Harm tried to maintain his glare, but the truth was, Jen was just so damn' cute that he couldn't stay pissed at her no matter how much he wanted to. Of course, there was also the beneficial effect of his first daily dose of caffeine. "Aren't you supposed to be pregnant?" he growled at her.
"Yep," she smiled at him smugly.
"So... you're the one who's supposed have unruly hormones rampaging through your body, making you moody, capricious and illogical?"
"Yep," her smile never wavered a millimetre.
"So how come you're so damn' logical, all of a sudden?" he demanded.
"Ah, Harm, I'm not only logical, but I am also absolutely right!"
"Oh, I hate it when you do that!" he complained, but the twitch at the corners of his mouth were a dead give-away to Jen that his sense of humour was finally beginning to wake up.
"And by the way, Harm, you forgot one other effect those hormones have on me..."
"What's that?"
"They also make me incredibly horny," she said huskily, letting the tip of her tongue moisten her lips, and then as he started to rise, she added brightly, "Unfortunately we don't have time for that right now!" and as he groaned in frustration, she dropped her voice back into its lower register, "so I guess we'll just have to wait until tonight... unless of course, you'll be too tired by then. After all," she teased, "Us youngsters can't expect you old-timers to keep up with us all the time!"
"Old-timers!" Harm spluttered, "Oh, you are so going to pay for that, little girl!"
"Oh, promises, promises!" she scoffed, "I look forward to you trying!"
Harm grinned at her helplessly, "Dammit Jen! You've done it again! I was determined to be a grouch until at least oh-eight-hundred! I'm beginning to suspect that I've married a very devious woman!"
"Of course you have," she reassured him, "and that's one of the reasons that we're going to be so very happy!"
"It is?" he asked doubtfully.
"Most certainly," she twinkled at him, "or at least it will be once you've got off your six and disassembled the bed!"
"Disassemble the bed?" he repeated helplessly, now totally adrift at her seemingly mercurial changes of topic.
She looked at him fondly. "Harm, you had that bed-frame made to measure because you're so... she deliberated over her choice of words for a second, and then decided that teasing him was too much fun, "big. Just how do you figure to get it down to the street, get it loaded into a U-haul trailer and then unloaded and upstairs in the new place while it stays in one piece?"
Harm looked at his wife in amazement. She was right, what a wonderful woman she was! How come he hadn't thought of something so damn' obvious? Particularly when he'd had the bed made to his specifications he stipulated that it must be able of being quickly broken down into its component parts! Thinking about his oversight, he scowled at Jen again. If she had only let him have just an extra half-hour's sleep, he would have remembered that himself.
Jen caught the change of expression on his face, "Yeah, you're just jealous 'cos you didn't think about it," she scoffed.
"I s'pose I am," he agreed, with a sigh and then grinned wickedly, "but I don't s'pose you know where the special wrench is do you?"
"Uh... no, of course not...Oh, Harm," she wailed, "you didn't pack it in one of the boxes in the garage did you?"
"I dunno," he said thoughtfully rubbing his chin, "Coulda done, I guess... Do you wanna take a look?"
"Ohh!" Jen gritted in exasperation, "what on earth am I going to do with you... you evil minded son of a... you know exactly where it is don't you?" She finished with an expression of outrage plastered across her face.
"Of course I do," he admitted with a smug grin, "it's where it should be. In its purpose built clamps on the bed-frame, under your side of the mattress. And, if all goes according to plan, I should have the bed stripped down in oh... about ten minutes." With a careless wink at her, he got to his feet and whistling 'Anchors Aweigh' he strolled towards the bedroom, breaking stride only to avoid the swat his outplayed and chagrined wife aimed in exasperation at his six.
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At just short of eight o'clock Harm backed his Lexus into the U-haul parking lot on K Street. As he had expected, Gunny Galindez was already there, his pick-up truck also ready to hook into a rental trailer. Harm slid out from behind the wheel and walked across the few yards of parking lot to greet the marine Staff Non-Com. As he neared the pick-up he was surprised to see a long baulk of timber, probably a length of eight by eight he thought, and what seemed to be at least a couple of miles of six-inch rope, neatly flaked down in four coils. He tapped on the driver's side window and stepped back as the Gunnery Sergeant slid to the ground at the same time as the passenger side door opened and a second man dismounted from the cab.
"Good morning, sir, a fine day for it." Galindez observed cocking an eye up at the clear blue sky.
"'Morning, Gunny. Yeah, it may be OK, but I've a feeling that we might like some cloud cover by the time we're through today!"
The stranger had come around the front of the truck and stood one pace back, evidently waiting to be acknowledged. "Sir, this is a friend of mine, Chief Bettridge, he used to be a Bosun's Mate. This is his gear in the truck."
"Chief, good to meet you." A somewhat puzzled Harm greeted him.
"You too sir!"
"Uh, sir, it's just that yesterday afternoon," Gunny Galindez started to explain, "right when we were securing, Lieutenant Roberts overheard me reminding the fatigue detail about today, and he asked me did I know that your apartment was on the third floor. So, I made a drive by and figured that it looked like it was going to be hard work, so... uh... well, the Chief is an old buddy, and we got together for a beer later and he figures that we can rig a block and tackle from the fire escape, and..."
"Yeah, I get the picture, Gunny; but tell me Chief, what's an old shellback like you doing associating with jarheads? Aren't you afraid of getting drummed out of the Chief's mess?" Harm couldn't resist tweaking Galindez' nose
Chief Bettridge grinned, "No, sir, the Gunny and his guys saved my butt once, so I figured I owed him one..."
"Which you paid back years ago!" Galindez interrupted
"Oh, well, in that case, when we're done today, you'll owe me one!"
"That's the way it goes, hey, Chief?" Harm confirmed, "and of course, it won't hurt to have a lawyer owing you one either, will it?"
"That it won't, sir!" The Chief agreed affably. Harm eyed him cautiously, he didn't look like the Big Bud Roberts type, but a sailor didn't get to be a Chief without a fair degree of cunning as well as spotless performance evals and competence.
It took only a few minutes to complete the paperwork and for Harm's credit card to be debited for the rental of two trailers, and only about fifteen more minutes to get back to the apartment building, where practically the first thing Harm spotted were two jeans and T-shirt clad men eyeing the fire escape, and although this was a notoriously bad neighbourhood, they looked too clean cut to be up to no good, besides it was no broad daylight and all the night crawlers had retreated into their holes until dusk. Harm turned to Galindez, "More friends of yours, Gunny?"
"No, sir, They're two of my guys," Chef Bettridge supplied, and then turning to his two sailors, yelled in a voice trained by competing against wind and sea, "You two! Front and centre!"
The two sailors doubled over and halted, not in a fully braced posture, but alert and ready to receive instructions. "Sir these two prize specimens are Bosun's Mate Two Shepherd and Gibbs. They're not much, but they're the best I could come up with in a hurry, and with some supervision they might not FUBAR the whole day! You hear me, you two?"
The broad grins on the two petty officers' faces, and their cheerful chorus of, "Aye, aye, Chief!" convinced Harm that they were not intimidated by the Chief's strictures, and that they were not only used to his particular form of mild abuse, but also respected the man who seemed to criticise them so harshly.
"Right then," Bettridge continued giving the two of them their instructions, and once they had started about their business he turned to Harm and confided, "Don't take my grumbling at them too hard, sir. They're good kids, and good at their jobs," and he grinned a slow grin, "not that I'm ever going to let them know that I think that!"
Harm laughed, "Too late, Chief, I think they've got your number!"
Twenty minutes proved the truth of Bettridge's words as the first cargo-net of fully loaded boxes slowly descended from the spar now firmly lashed to the fire escape and was received by Gunny's crew of marines, who with the aid of Harm and the newly arrived Jack Keeter emptied the net in record time and started loading the trailer hooked in to Gunny's pick-up truck.
Harm took advantage of a couple of minutes wait to make a good a promise he had made to himself yesterday, and descended upon an unsuspecting Skates and scooped her up in his arms, lifting her clean off her feet and causing her to throw her arms around him in an instinctive reaction against falling. He spun her round once before releasing her, so that she regained her footing breathless and laughing all at the same time.
"What was all that for?" she demanded, not quite sure why she had been so ruthlessly hugged, but not objecting either.
"That, Skates, is for watching my six just as closely as you did when we were flying together."
"What the hell are you going on about Hammer?" Her eyes reflected amusement and complete non-comprehension.
"I mean that when I 'phoned Keeter yesterday," he explained with an air of great patience, "to remind him we were moving today, he'd forgotten all about it. Then I heard you in the background giving him hell and telling him that you'd pick him up this morning and make sure he got here on time."
"And...?"
"And I made myself a promise that I'd give you an extra hug for watching out for me!"
"An extra hug?" she queried.
"Yep."
"So, that would mean that I was going to get a hug anyway, right?" her grin was twitching at the corners of her mouth.
"Uh... I guess," Harm eyed her warily. All of a sudden he wasn't too sure where this was going.
"So... If I've only had this one hug, then I'm still owed one, right?"
"Yes..."
"So stop standing there like a stone statue, and give me the extra hug you owe me!"
Relieved that this was all Skates was demanding, Harm wrapped his arms around her and gave her an enthusiastic, if not so exuberant as the previous, hug. As he released her Harm saw to his alarm that not only was she grinning broadly, but her eyes were dancing with laughter, but before he could say or do anything he heard Jen's voice, in completely fake weary resignation, "I'm sorry Beth, but he's totally incorrigible, I just can't stop him flirting with just about every female he encounters."
"Oh Jen!" Skates voice was loaded with spurious commiseration, "I'm so sorry for you, honey. You'd think with a gorgeous girl like you waiting at home for him, he'd learn to control himself!"
Harm spun on his heel, Jen was leaning against the side of 'vette only just managing to keep her laughter from breaking free and Skates wasn't in much better shape. How the hell did these women do it! He knew they hadn't had a chance to even speak to each other, let alone organise something like this. And it was uncannily like the crap that Loren and Jen had pulled on Keeter last week.
Knowing full well that any attempt to defend himself against their false accusations and insinuations was doomed to failure, he decided upon a dignified retreat and with a curt "Ladies!" he turned and headed back towards the work party, a smile of appreciation at the way he had just been pranked spreading across his face, as the two women behind him broke into unrestrained laughter.
With the block rigged and handled by Bettridge's men the task of emptying the apartment went swiftly and smoothly and as the trailer hooked in to Gunny's pick-up neared its fully loaded stage, Harm called Skates and Jen to him. "OK, ladies, nice one earlier. You got me done to a turn! It's time now for some serious stuff. Jen take the 'vette, carefully," he scowled at her to emphasise how earnest he was about her safety," over to Annandale Road; Skates would you please follow her, and make sure when Gunny's truck arrives, that she doesn't lift anything heavier than a finger. She can sit in a chair and direct the guys where to put everything, but nothing more, can you do that?" Skates nodded her head, "Jen, do you hear me, there?"
Jen pouted mutinously and reluctantly nodded her head, only just mollified by the rare chance to drive the 'vette, while Skates smiled and touched his forearm in reassurance, "I'll make sure she's good, Harm."
Harm covered her hand with his own. "I know you will, Beth. It's just that she can be so damn stubborn and I..." he stopped, not quite sure what he wanted to say.
Skates smiled again, "It's my turn to say 'I know', I guess."
Harm nodded as first the 'vette then Skates' Volvo pulled out of the alley and turned in the direction of Falls Church. Harm sighed deeply and returned to the business of helping with the loading of the two trailers.
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It was dusk when Harm took a last look around the now-empty apartment in which he had lived since '95. So much had happened since those days, the world had changed and there could never be a return to those days when life had seemed less precarious, less sinister. He had been - what was the phrase? Oh, yes, footloose and fancy free, happily flirting first with Kate and then with Meg, and now look at himself, he reflected, married, with a child - his and Jen's child - on the way, huge changes on a personal level, but he could not possibly be happier. He wandered through the apartment saying goodbye to it as much as he was doing a last minute check for any small items that might have been over-looked. At last with a final sigh, he flicked off the light switch, and locking the door for the final time, he grinned wryly at the always unreliable elevator, and opened the door to the stairwell.
He'd been over to Annandale Road earlier, and together with the rest of his motley crew had unloaded the contents of the two trailers and seen the contents safely distributed around the various rooms of the house before they had all finally taken a break.
The morning's cloudless sky had indeed been a promise of a hot late spring day, and everyone's T-shirts or shirts showed dark damp patches, and when stand easy had been called the troops had sought shelter in whatever patches of shade could be found in the back yard, and the chilled beer from Loren's ice-box had been enthusiastically greeted. That had been no surprise.
What had been a surprise however was the presence of Harriett Sims, who had driven up from Alexandria to help out, explaining that Bud had drawn the short straw and pulled baby-sitting detail, allowing her to take a break from coping with a rambunctious four year old.
Miraculously Harriett had managed to work successfully with Loren and together they had provided the huge casserole dishes of tuna and cheese pasta bake, sufficient feed the whole crew. Although the two blonde lieutenants had succeeded in working together for this one day at least, it was quite obvious that relations between them were still only just on the warm side of frosty, but when Harriett had made her excuses, claiming that she needed to get back to her baby, Harm had walked her out to her car, thanked her for helping out and complimented her on managing not to spill any of Loren's blood, Harriett had giggled, "Well, sir..."
"Harm," he corrected her, "Harriett, for about the four hundred and forty eleventh time, when we're off-duty, and especially when you're a guest in my home, my name is not 'sir', or 'commander', it's Harm. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," she had agreed and almost instantly realising what she had said, broke into giggles that developed into full laughter as Harm, exasperated as he might be, was unable to resist the humour of the situation.
"But go on..." he finally said to her as they stopped next to the Roberts' minivan.
"What was I saying...? Oh, yes, you were saying about not spilling blood. Well," she wrinkled her forehead, "it was a close call a couple of times, but we managed... and Lieutenant Singer's different, somehow, maybe just a little more pleasant to be around... I doubt we'll ever be close friends, but we'll probably survive each other's company, as long as we don't have to share it for too long or too often!"
"Harriett," he smiled as he draped his arm across her shoulders and gave her a squeeze, "you're a marvel. Drive safe now, and say 'hi' to Bud, and give my love to Little A J"
Harriett laughed softly again, "One day, I'm going to figure out a real punishment for Bud for not finding out the Admiral's names first!"
Harm stood and watched as Harriett drove off into the light Saturday afternoon traffic and returned to the yard to join in the banter and the desultory conversation before rounding up Gunny Galindez and suggesting that they return the trailers to K Street. With their departure, Chief Bettridge and his two sailors as well as Gunny's fatigue party started to make their own moves to depart, but the latter party was stopped by a ferocious command from Corporal Peterson to make sure that they thoroughly policed the area and not leave any of their crap lying around for the ladies to have to deal with. Gunny Galindez smiled as he and Harm walked out to their vehicles. "He's a good marine, that Peterson, it's about time he was re-assigned to somewhere he can get that third chevron. JAG HQ is a pretty easy billet as far as the Corps goes, but everyone knows that for the two or three years they're here, the chances of getting a step up are pretty few and far between. I guess I need to speak to Lieutenant Barber," he finished, naming the Marine Corps JAG Security Detail's OIC.
"An easy billet? Harm queried in surprise, "With Two Admirals almost permanently in the building, and Captains and Bird Colonels in and out all day and every day?"
"I said it was pretty easy, sir, and it beats getting your ass shot off!"
"Yeah, and you speak from experience, right, Gunny?" Harm grinned, remembering the Gunnery Sergeant's tale of being accidentally shot by a fellow New Mexico deputy, a 'Forrest Gump' wound he'd called it in deference to the presence of the female officers.
"You got that one right, sir!"
The trailers returned to the U-haul depot, Harm opened the rear door of the Lexus, and passed a carton marked with the name of a well known brand of Bourbon to Galindez. "There you go, Gunny, a bottle per man as promised, and make sure you tell your guys, and the Chief's that both Mrs Rabb and I say thank you to them!"
"Thank you, sir! Will do, and sir, good luck in your new home!"
Harm nodded his appreciation of the Gunny's good wishes and headed for the apartment near Union Station.
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Satisfied that all was as well as could be expected at the Union Station apartment, Harm drove out to Falls Church, still unaccountably seized with an unnerving feeling of melancholy as he passed familiar landmarks and knew that this was probably the last time he would ever make this journey, still he grinned as he hit the 14th Street Bridge, he wouldn't miss the tailbacks here every morning! With that thought cheering him, he made a determined effort to shake of the unexpected feeling of gloom and to stop looking back at what was past, and instead to look forward to what was in the future.
On an early Saturday evening when most of the local population would be gathered either around their dinner tables, or in front of their TV sets the drive out to Annandale Road took only thirty minutes, a time he would have loved to have been able to allow when making the daily commute from DC to Falls Church, but with early morning and later afternoon traffic the journey had often taken up to three times as long. And that he grinned triumphantly was another reason to be cheerful! His new-found good mood suffered a slight set-back as he swung the wheel to bring the Lexus off the street and on to the gravelled apron in front of the garage. Parked behind Skates' Volvo was a gleaming black Ford Expedition that looked only too familiar. As he dismounted from the Lexus, Harm threw a quick look at the licence plate; yep, as he'd thought, it was the Admiral's ride. Dammit! What the hell did Chegwidden want! Was he inspecting his subordinates' new home, making sure that there could be no suspicion of improperly shared accommodation between Loren and the Rabb family? If he wanted to know these details, why the hell didn't he ask them at work, instead of snooping around as if he was on some sort of SEAL Recon? As he walked along the gravel path leading from the garage across the front of the house, he saw that Chegwidden was at the open front door and seemed to be arguing with someone. Harm felt a renewed rush of irritation, if Chegwidden was upsetting Jen, then admiral or no admiral, Harm would ask, no, would tell him to leave! Then his irritation faded into amusement as he realised that the older man was trying to conduct two arguments at the same time, and was well on his way to losing both. His arrival was greeted with relief by his visitor, who turned to him and said, "Rabb! Thank God you're back! Will you please try and talk some common sense into these two!" His sweeping gesture included not only Jen but also Amanda Brovo, both of whom were staring at the visitor with expressions of marked displeasure. He opened his mouth to ask what was the cause, or were the causes, of the disagreement, when both women started to speak at once. Trying, but failing, to understand their complaints, he held up both hands in a soothing gesture, and their dissatisfied faces now turned towards him, he turned to the admiral and said, "Look, sir, why don't you step inside, I'm pretty sure the kitchen's just about organised enough to allow me to get a pot of coffee to brew, and then we can discuss this in comfort instead of out here on a windy front porch!"
Jen's fierce "Ha!" of satisfaction did not escape his notice, and he turned an inquiring eyebrow on her, "That's exactly what I've been trying to get this stubborn old... Admiral," In the light of the reproving look she got from her husband, Jen hastily amended whatever it was she had been just about to blurt out, "to do. He's driven all the way out here to bring Mrs Brovo home, and now he won't come in, not even just for a coffee!"
"Legalman... uh... Mrs Rabb, a ten minute drive from McLean to here, doesn't really qualify as "all the way", and you've not finished moving in yet, so you don't need the interruption..."
"Actually, Admiral, we do need the interruption! We've had a long day, we're all strung out, and your visit gives us the chance to sit down and unwind for ten minutes!"
Chegwidden turned to Harm, "Dammit Rabb, what have you done to her? I don't recall her being this stubborn when she worked for me!" he said plaintively.
"Sir, you have no idea just how mule-headed she can be! I guess the reason you never found out is that she got to be an expert at handling you!"
Chegwidden winced and looked at Jen with fresh eyes, "OK then, Mrs Rabb, thank you, I will step in for ten minutes, but no more. Rabb," he whispered in an aside as Jen stepped back to let him enter the house, "I hope the hell you know what you're doing!"
"So do I sir, so do I!" Harm agreed fervently.
The living room was still in a condition that could best be classed as chaotic, and one of the yet to be unpacked boxes was hastily pressed into service as a coffee table, an event which the admiral protested proved his point that the Rabbs weren't ready to receive visitors, a comment that earned him a glare from Jen. Chegwidden gulped, he'd see that expression somewhere before and it sent an unwelcome frisson down his spine, "Have you been spending time with Colonel... uh, no... no, of course not, dumb question, sorry." He took a sip of his coffee as his face reddened. Then it came to him! "Singer!" he blurted out, "Legalman... uh... Mrs Rabb, you have evidently been spending far too much time around Lieutenant Singer!"
"Did somebody call me?" Loren's voice overloaded with honey-sweetness sounded from the doorway to the hallway, in Admiral Chegwidden's six. Chegwidden closed his eyes in silent anguish for a second or two and on reopening found that both the Rabbs, Keeter and even Amanda Brovo were looking at him with laughter only just suppressed as they enjoyed his embarrassment. Sighing, he rose to his feet and turned to view his tormentor; this he knew was going to cost him and probably the whole of JAG long weeks of scowls and snide comments. She was not alone however, she was cradling a small shawl-wrapped bundle in her arms and standing next to her was another equally petite and vaguely familiar brunette.
"Good evening, Lieutenant... and...?"
"Lieutenant Commander Hawkes, sir," Loren supplied, "You met her at the Commander's wedding," she nudged his memory.
"Of course! Yes. You were with..." he cast his eyes about the room and fortunately the name came to him before it became obvious that he was searching, "with Commander Keeter!" he finished triumphantly, but then he frowned, there was something wrong with this picture... It wasn't until he approached Loren and indicating the bundle, asked, "May I?" that a suspicion began to dawn.
Loren smiled, and said, "Of course," and much to A J's surprise, he had after all, only expected to have been allowed a better look at the baby, found that Loren was holding her out, fully expecting him to take hold of her daughter. Long buried and half-forgotten memories surfaced in time for him to accept the burden and settle her comfortably in the crook of his arm, ensuring that her tiny head was well supported, and then as he looked around he saw that not only was Lieutenant Singer actually smiling - and that was what had felt strange - but the same fond expression was on the faces of everyone in the room. Despite his own smile, Chegwidden was still an admiral, and managed to growl, "This didn't happen!"
The chorus of "No, sir!" and "Of course not, sir!" were hardly said with enough conviction to reassure the senior officer, and his discomfiture was completed by a burst of bright light characteristic of a camera flash, just beyond the edge of his peripheral vision. His head shot up and swivelled on his neck to be met by a circle of perfectly blank and innocent faces. Unable to identify a culprit, he decided that his best course of action for the moment was to ignore the entire incident.
"I do believe Lieutenant that I once remarked on how beautiful your daughter was?"
"Uh... yes, sir!"
"Well you'll be relieved to hear perhaps, that in the three weeks since I last saw her, she has grown in beauty! Congratulations, Loren."
Her CO's casual use of her first name left Loren Singer, for once in her life as a lawyer, totally speechless, but then after a few tongue-tied seconds, she managed a half-strangled, "Th... thank you... sir!" as she automatically held out her arms as the admiral made to hand her baby back to her.
Now that he was on his feet Chegwidden picked up and drained his coffee cup, and turning to Amanda Brovo, told her, "Amanda, I don't have any more time to argue with you tonight, so I'll see you at oh-nine-hundred hours on Monday, ready for movement. Mrs Rabb, thank you for inviting me in for coffee. When you're more properly settled both at work and at home, I look forward to hear how life is treating you! Commanders, Lieutenant, goodnight."
Harm quit his seat, "I'll walk you out, sir!"
Chegwidden grunted his thanks, and as Harm opened the front door for him he said, "By the way, Rabb, if a copy of that photograph ever appears in the office, it will be your six that I'll be chewing on - got it?"
"Aye, aye sir!"
"H'mm. Rabb, it looks like you've got an almost ideal set-up here." He paused and looked the younger man up and down, "Don't take any chances. Get a second mail box set up for Singer, and if you can work out a separate access for her, then so much the better. Oh no," he held up his hand to stop any protest, "I know there's nothing underhand going on and that all you're trying to do is provide a family environment for your brother's child..."
Harm interrupted his chief, "And for Loren singer's Child, sir."
"Yes. Yes, you're perfectly correct. My apologies. That's twice this evening I've let bias affect my thoughts. I'll have to do better. Goodnight, Rabb!"
"Good night, sir!" Harm watched the Expedition pull out into the street and turn northwards for downtown Falls Church and then onto McLean. On returning to the family room, he found Skates pouring a glass of wine for Mrs Brovo, while Keeter had conjured a case of cold beer from somewhere, At Harm's raised eyebrow he leaned back in his seat and grinned as he raised an already open bottle in salute, "Mrs Rabb has made it perfectly clear that Beth and I are required for further fatigue detail tomorrow, and had provided us with suitable overnight accommodation, so I couldn't see any point in letting good, cold beer go to waste!"
"Good point, Keeter," Harm agreed twisting the top off a bottle for himself.
"Oh, well, iced tea for us I suppose, Loren," Jen sighed with a wistful look at the beer being passed to Skates.
"Yeah, the sacrifices we make!" Loren pretended to grumble, but then as she looked down at Alexandra her voice softened to a croon as she added, "but you are so, so worth every single one of them."
For a second Harm thought he was the only one who had heard Skates catch her breath, but as Loren and Jen both looked at her with inquiring glances, Keeter looked at her in much the same way as a rabbit might look at a rattlesnake, and then realising that he was coming under scrutiny managed to force his face into a grin, although not a very convincing one, Harm told himself.
Later, as Jen, yawning mightily, joined him under the comforter in their new bedroom, he ventured to ask, "What did Keeter mean by 'suitable accommodation'?"
"Oh," she murmured sleepily, "I told them they could use either or both of the two spare rooms, and left the choice up to them."
Harm chuckled quietly, whatever nefarious plans Keeter may have had in mind, he was betting that Skates' reaction to Loren and Alexandra almost guaranteed that both the spare rooms would be in use tonight.
Jen felt the rumble of laughter deep in his chest and mumbled, "wassofnny?"
"Nothing, nothing at all," Harm whispered to her and dropping a kiss on the top of her head he whispered again, "Sleep tight, little girl."
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Jen's nose wrinkled and she moved her head slightly to the side looking for relief from whatever was irritating her. Whatever it was it damn persistent, and her eyes still shut, she wrinkled her nose again and bringing a hand out from under the comforter she tried to swat away whatever was bugging her. Whatever it was, she seemed to have banished it and sighing with sleepy satisfaction she felt herself slipping back into the depths. Dammit! Whatever it was, the damn thing was back! Furious she sat bolt upright in bed only to have her ears assailed by the sound stifled chuckles coming from her husband. Glaring at him she saw that not only was he red-faced from the effort of holding in his laughter, he was also holding a feather which must have worked its way out of one the pillows.
Giving him a glare that matched the best combined efforts of Mac and Loren she snarled at him, "That is so not funny, sailor!"
"Well," he said blandly, but keeping a wary eye on her - past experience had shown that on occasion she wasn't above using a pillow as a bludgeon - "You seemed to think it was when you did it to me a few days ago."
Jen thought back, she easily remembered the occasion to which he was referring - and to what his awakening had led, and a reluctant grin creased her face, "Yeah, it was funny, and you know what was better," she turned on her side and ran her finger nails down his breastbone.
"I do, but I'm afraid, little girl, this old-timer was all fired up last night, but... it seems that the youth of today just haven't got the stay-power like us oldsters!"
Jen stared at him blankly. What in the world was he talking about... and then she remembered teasing him yesterday morning about age, youth and stamina, and flopping back on to her pillow, she covered her eyes with a forearm and said despairingly, "You're not going to let this one go quickly, are you?"
Harm was so quiet or so long that Jen lifted her forearm slightly and hopefully squinted one-eyed at him. A beatific smile was etched on to his face and he looked her straight in the eye and said, "Nope."
"I could try and persuade you to make it go away," she suggested.
"You could," he agreed swinging his legs out of bed and shuffling his feet into his bath clogs, "but not this morning, not with a houseful of guests, who'll be up and about in a very short time."
"Damn guests," grumbled Jen as she too slid out of bed. "I'll race you to the shower!" she challenged, Harm shouted his agreement, and then in the interest of domestic peace, diplomatically hung back just enough to let her edge in before him.
Twenty minutes later Harm was at the kitchen stove conjuring up batch after batch of pancakes, while Jen set the coffee brewing and concentrated on scrambling sufficient eggs to feed all five adults.
Skates was the first to appear and wolfed down her portion while carrying on a conversation with Jen that Harm half wished he hadn't heard. "So, Beth... " Jen asked with a gleam of humour in her eyes, "how many rooms did you and Keeter use last night?"
Harm spluttered into his coffee as Skates without the slightest hesitation or embarrassment said, "We actually haven't got that far ahead in our... whatever it is, yet. But even if we had, I think if I'd suggested last night that we share the one room, the last we'd have seen of Keeter was a cloud of dust heading in the general direction of the horizon."
Jen giggled at the mental picture that Skates conjured up, and looking at her sideways said, "You are bad!"
"I know," sighed Skates, "which reminds me, I need to go and seek absolution for my sins, you don't know if there's a Catholic Church in the area do you?"
Jen looked dumbfounded, she should have remembered that Skates was a regular church-goer, and she turned pleading eyes towards Harm, who took up the baton effortlessly.
"Yes, St Phillip's is about a mile away. Turn right out of the drive, then first left and then second left and about eight hundred yards along on the right. Mass is at oh-seven-hundred, oh-nine-hundred and sixteen-hundred. Confession was yesterday from sixteen to nineteen-hundred hours. Christenings, marriages and funerals by negotiation with the parish priest, Father Edwards". He grinned at the two women who sat looking at him with stunned faces. "Look at me: this is me being smug," he told them, "I remembered Beth asking about Mass when she and Keeter were down for the wedding."
Beth decided she'd attend the oh-nine-hundred service and piling her plate and mug into the sink asked Jen where she could turn her hand for the hour before she left for church. Jen smiled gratefully and suggested that there were a stack of boxes in the living room that needed unpacking. Once they were unpacked she could decide exactly where the contents should go.
Keeter on his arrival for breakfast was summarily dealt with and told to go and connect up the computer equipment in the office and not to show his face until it was satisfactorily set up. Feeling somewhat aggrieved, having a feeling that he was being picked on for some unknown reason, he nevertheless did as he was told.
Harm watched his long-time friend disappear under the desk with an armful of cables turned back towards Jen just in time to hear her say quietly and approvingly to Skates, "He's learning."
"Yeah, he is. Jen, despite his rep, he really is a sweet guy underneath, he's worth keeping, and I can't figure how none of his previous girls ever made the effort."
Harm came up behind them and placed a hand on each of their shoulders, "That's an easy question to answer Beth; he never found a girl that he thought was worth letting in that close - until now."
Skates gasped, and grabbed for a Kleenex from her purse as she sniffed and then said, "Dammit Hammer, don't do that!"
Jen looked at him in some surprise, this damn' man of hers, the one who Sarah MacKenzie had consistently characterised as emotionless and unromantic was nothing of the sort, he was full of the best kind of emotions and was proving to be surprisingly perceptive...
