Chapter 119: Family
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
JLSO
San Diego California
08: 16 HRS
Trish Burnett smiles politely at the short, slender, stranger in a class A dress uniform when she passes through the door he's holding open for her. "Thank you Major."
"My pleasure Ma'am. Good day."
She nods. "You too."
She heads for the elevator bank that will take her upstairs. She hadn't paid close enough attention to his insignia, but she muses purely on instinct. "Slight of stature, light on his feet, and Marine-green to the core. Probably Recon."
When she steps off the elevator she takes in her surroundings with a single sweeping glance. It's not her first time here, but she's still can't help but think… These places never change. If you've seen one military office building you've seen them all."
She makes her way down a short corridor until she pushes through the next set of glass doors where a female naval lieutenant in summer whites politely slides past her offering her a perfunctory smile as she quick-steps away with purpose in her stride.
Before Trish can reach her official destination a familiar female voice calls, "Headed my way?"
She glances over her shoulder with a smile for her daughter-in-law. "I was."
"It's in my office. Thanks for stopping by; you're a lifesaver!"
Trish waits for, and then, falls into step with the younger woman. "It's no trouble."
Mac laughs doubtfully. "Thanks for that too."
Another set of glass doors and Trish and her companion step into the lively bullpen that surrounds Mac's inner office. "I don't know what you mean, darling."
While keeping her spine straight and her shoulders square, Mac smiles and permits the smallest glimmer of mirth to rise to the surface in her dark eyes. "If you're to be believed, then it's never any trouble at all when I pick up the phone and ask for last minute favors. You don't ever seem to mind, though I'm sure it has to be inconvenient… At least once in a while."
Trish shrugs. "You're busy. If I can help, I'm glad to do it." She chuckles and teases lightheartedly, "I promise… if you start becoming a horribly inconvenient drudge… I will let you..."
When they pass by a small conference room and the lawyers inside can clearly be heard in the midst of a boisterous discussion even through the closed doors, Mac holds up her right index finger silently asking Trish for a moment's patience. "I'll hold you to that." She says discreetly before pushing the doors open.
For a long moment Mac remains silent. She simply stands in the opened doorway with her hands clasped behind her back; quietly observing two of her junior officers without their knowledge.
From her place on the other side of the threshold, Trish can see no one else but Mac, but she hears a young woman ask, with almost comic incredulity, "You aren't serious?"
A male voice replies. "Hey, it could work." And, even though Trish does not know who is speaking, she can clearly hear the smile on his face.
"Oh sure, Right! Go ahead, try that. I dare you!" The woman taunts. "Judge Barlow will laugh you right out of her courtroom. You'll be lucky if you don't spend the night in the brig! And, I'm telling you right now… If I'm found guilty by association, if she tars me with the same brush… I will spike that orange soda you're always sucking down with Draino!"
As the man inside the room begins to laugh, Trish bites her lower lip to keep from doing the same while Mac finally makes her presence known by loudly clearing her throat. "Ahem…"
"Ma'am! Colonel!" Trish can hear wooden chair legs scraping against the floor and she's left with no doubt that the squabbling duo in the conference room have come to their feet; instantly snapping to attention.
"What's going on in here?" Mac quietly demands with deliberate patience.
Unaware just how loud they have gotten until this precise moment, the woman immediately apologizes. "Sorry Colonel." While her cohort offers hopefully, "Uh... We were just discussing case strategy, Ma'am."
Mac nods slowly. "Yes, you were…with feeling."
Finally contrite, the unseen man answers. "We're sorry about that Colonel Mackenzie. We'll take it down a notch or two."
"Yes, you will. Do I really have to remind you two that, for this case, you're supposed to be on the same side."
"Of course not Ma'am... We know that." They answer one after the other.
"Well, in that case, I'll just remind both of you that your job is to defend your client to the best of your ability... Your job is not to render your co-council, not to mention everybody else in this office, hard of hearing."
"Yes Ma'am." They answer in unison.
Mac turns on her heel and declares, as she closes the conference room door once more."Carry on people." She makes her way across the bullpen, reserving further comment, until after she ushers Trish into the privacy of her office and closes the door securely behind the two of them. With one hand still on the doorknob, she slumps momentarily against the door while she shakes her head and rolls her eyes; offering drolly, "Lawyers!"
Trish studies her with knowing eyes for a split second before wagering a guess; "Two of your best?"
Mac raises an eyebrow in astonishment. "Good lord, Trish, how could you possibly tell?"
"They're obviously passionate. And, command presence aside, you're silently laughing at them… as opposed to hauling them before a firing squad."
"You'd never know it just by listening to them, but they've actually got impressive trial records." Mac steps away from the door and moves to the seat behind her desk. She opens a drawer and removes a manila envelope with Laura's full name scrawled across the front of it in barely legible red magic marker, and then passes it across the desk to Trish, who only glances at it before tucking it under an arm as Mac continues, "I'm laughing at them because… Sometimes… they remind me of another pair of lawyers."
"Bet I can guess who. God help Chegwidden. You two must driven him half-mad."
For a single instant Mac smiles; her eyes alight with memories before she firmly objects, "Hey... You never got to watch us work with each other!"
Trish's sudden burst of quiet laughter is musical. "No, I didn't. But I've had a front row seat for almost a year now, watching the two of you be married to one another."
Mac tips her head to one side and shrugs agreeably. "Touche... To be fair though, the marriage is calmer... A lot calmer than I thought it would be. Uh, at least, it is most of the time." She clarifies quickly. "Not including this week. This week is just plain crazy."
"So I gather. I thought you were supposed to be off today."
"I was. That was the plan. I swear we made a plan. We usually do. On Sundays we try to plan out the coming week. There's always some flux in the plan, but we've gotten use to handling it, and Laura pretty much goes with the flow. Apparently, if this week is any indication, when you have two more children in residence, you make a plan Sunday night and before sunset on Monday the plan goes up in smoke. We've already had to re-work the plan twice… and this is only Tuesday. But hey... It's good practice, right?"
Trish shimmies her hand side to side in the air. "It's good practice to an extent. Having A.J. and Jimmy here this week will give you some idea of what life is going to be like 5 to 10 years from now. Having the twins here next week might give you an idea what life is going to be like in 2 to 4 years. The older Roberts boys will tell you a lot about what they need, what they want, and how the family's weekly plan needs to change; if it needs to change. The twins may not be able to articulate these things just yet, but they can at least let you know when something isn't working, but they're more likely to tell you these things through behavior than actual speech. What you're forgetting, Mac, is that the two new family members you're expecting this fall won't be able to talk for the first year of life. They won't be able to tell you much of anything beyond the basic necessities of their lives. Before you're a parent, one baby crying sounds remarkably like any other baby crying. After a week or two of listening to your newborns, you'll learn to tell the difference between a cry that says 'I'm hungry, I'm tired, I'm cold, I'm sad, scared, lonely, angry, or hey; somebody please come change my diaper.' Beyond that, they won't tell you much of anything for that first year. Until you get to know them, at least a little bit, there won't be any advance warnings about late night fevers, ear infections, or any of the other common reasons that newborns make a mockery of your weekly plan. Having a newborn in the house is not the same as having a young child; it's not even the same as having a toddler underfoot. Having two newborns at the same time is outside my wheelhouse, but I suspect it will turn out to be a lot like having twins… I suppose Jenny and Nicky can supply you with a multitude of tips and plenty of practice in that department. And what they aren't able to tell you, I'm quite sure that Harriett and Bud can… and will. I only had Harm. He was enough. I cannot begin to imagine what it would've been like if there had been two of him.
Mac laughs as her eyes go wide at the thought alone. "Trish, I thank God you didn't have two of him; or even just two that look like him. Years ago, confronted with the prospect of more than one Harmon Rabb, Jr. I punched his impostor in the face. Despite all visual evidence to the contrary, I knew he wasn't Harm; even so, as my fist connected with his face, I still sent up a silent prayer. 'Please, please, please don't let me be wrong about this!' If he literally had a living, breathing, doppelganger walking around... My mind might have imploded that day.
When Trish squints curiously, Mac rolls her eyes. "Opps, apparently I've outted another one of his secrets. He didn't tell you about Clark Palmer?"
Trish cocks her head to one side and quickly searches her storehouse of memories. "I vaguely remember the name. Someone Harm said was hassling him."
Mac clicks her tongue against the inside of her cheek. "Hasseling him?" She shakes her head. "That's all he said?"
"I'm acutely aware that I often get the light version of the story; especially if my son is in some kind of trouble. He thinks he's protecting me; at least that's what he calls himself doing."
"Trish, if Harm told you Palmer was hassling him, you didn't get the light version. You got the anorexic version."
Trish frowns as worry clouds her normally bright eyes. Although she gives her daughter-in-law an inquiring look, she asks no questions. Choosing instead to remain silent, she waits expectantly for Mac to fill in the gaps for her.
"Clark Palmer was a sociopath who crossed paths with Harm and I in the course of our duties. He fixated on Harm; became obsessed. More than once, he reared his ugly head and inserted himself into our lives. Well, Harm's life… "
Trish nods her head and gestures with her hands as she says, "And yours by extension… Go on, please."
Mac hesitates for a moment, trying to decide how much to say, and what, if anything, to leave out. She watches Trish watch her as she makes up her mind. Ultimately deciding that it's all water under the bridge now, she opts for a -not quite- full disclosure; choosing only to leave out the most sensitive details of Palmer's hideous homicidal plan and, of course, the information pertaining to the explosive device. All these years later, there's no point in telling her that her son was found in the immediate vicinity of a bomb.
Instead, she starts with, "Palmer got some sort of perverse pleasure out of manipulating Harm. Looking back, it appeared as though he perceived Harm as some sort of self-proclaimed golden boy and then took an obscene amount of joy in trying to knock Harm off a pedestal he's not on. Sure, Harm's occasionally guilty of arrogance… But he's not narcissistic. I think that was Palmer projecting his own fears and dislikes about himself onto Harm."
Mac pauses for a deep breath before going any further, and Trish nods encouragement and forces herself to wait patiently.
"At any rate, unbeknownst to any of us who worked with Harm, Palmer hatched a plan to commit murder in open court and have your son take the fall for it. He gained entry into Harm's loft apartment in DC under false pretenses. He claimed to be a deliveryman of some sort. Then, he held Harm captive for several hours while he, with the aid of some wickedly impressive prosthetics and makeup, stole Harm's identity. Palmer, quite literally, borrowed Harm's face. They were also of similar stature and body type, so he was able to pass himself off as Harm for awhile. He prepared for his day while Harm was forced to watch; restrained, completely unable to stop him. Palmer showered in his bathroom, used his toiletries, commandeered his car, and other personal items, wore his clothes... Even his aftershave. When he arrived at HQ masquerading as Harm, the aftershave and a slight difference in height were probably the first things that set my subconscious to whispering. My internal alarm bells did not toll loudly right away. Awareness crept up on me slowly, because I wasn't really paying attention. I was busy, and irritated with him for being late. What my subconscious knew, and what my eyes saw, were at odds with one another. Despite the fact that I found myself squinting at him, on more than one occasion, in confusion; I couldn't put my finger on the exact cause for my discomfort. Not one of the nagging doubts, by itself was enough to raise a red flag. I felt like I was being haunted. I told myself that I was imagining things. There was nothing wrong with his smile. It wasn't somehow different, and It was not possible for a man to noticeably shrink an inch and a half in height overnight. But you know the way that the same fragrance will smell differently depending on who wears it because of body chemistry?"
Mac continues even before Trish nods. "It was only a subtle difference Trish, almost imperceptible, but Harm's aftershave didn't smell exactly the same when worn by Palmer. He also claimed to have Laryngitis, so he walked around whispering hoarsely. We all sound remarkably similar to the human ear when whispering; so the difference in their voices wasn't a dead giveaway. He also insulted me, then brazenly hit on me; flirted with me."
Mac chuckles derisively in response to Trish's raised eyebrow. "Not that Harm ever was above either of those things, but Palmer lacked his delivery… or he lacked the very essence of Harm… That undefinable quality he has that makes a woman instantly smile and forgive him when she experiences the sudden urge to slap his face. Yes, Harm occasionally irritated me… Even made me angry from time to time when he'd did these things. But Harm has never made me feel unclean. Palmer's manner wasn't overtly vulgar. He was more subtle than that, and yet, he still made me want to shower in boiling water and scrub myself raw with a Brillo pad. Still, as unsettled as I felt, the final alarm didn't sound until we were in court. Trish, I've seen your son work a courtroom more times than I can tell you. He puts on a show, and I have been privileged enough to enjoy being a captive member of his audience. I know his playbook backward, forward, sideways, diagonally, upside down, and inside out. Palmer couldn't touch him; not in a courtroom. I was his co-council, and I couldn't figure out what the hell was wrong with him. He was mad at me for trying to rein him in. He walked over to the table, looked me in the eye… called me Sarah… And told me to… Sit down… And shut up!"
The penny finally dropped. The trumpet blast finally sounded. My mind finally stopped resisting; wrestling with what my eyes saw, and my subconscious finally yelled loud enough to be heard over all of my reasonable doubts. "I don't have a clue what's happening here, and I don't know who the hell that is... but, I do know that is not Flyboy!"
Mac shakes her head at the memory. "By the time I recovered from the initial shock of that one mind-numbing realization, all hell had broken loose inside that courtroom. I decided to swing first and ask questions later."
She chuckles involuntarily and then offers, with a note of apology, in her voice. "It's not funny. I know. But thank God Bud Roberts is smarter than all of us. We all know Harm has a certain flair for showing up just in the nick of time. Bud also knew that, in spite of that, Harm wouldn't just not show up. He wouldn't just not call on the day of such a big court case. Poor Bud! Because Harm was late...even before Palmer showed up in disguise, he had to go out in rain and break into Harm's apartment. About the time he was doing that, I was sitting in the courtroom watching Palmer make a mockery of all Harm's skill and talent.
As usual, and with Bud at his side, Harm did show up just in time... Just in time to get his clock cleaned by Palmer who was still trying to carry out his hideous plan."
Mac's face mirrors the discomfort she feels inside. "I'm sure that was a bizarre experience for him; to say the least. We put a stop to Palmer's plans, but not before some damage was done. When Harm came to, he was lying on the floor with his head in my lap and I was pinching his face. I remember, he squinted up at me and then he smiled. He complained, and told me to let go of him. I told him, I was just trying to make sure that he was himself… One Harmon Rabb in my life was enough!"
"Good heavens, Mac! That sounds harrowing." Trish rubs her own arms and deliberately gives herself a shake as if trying to rid herself of some dark unholy garment.
"It's not an experience I can recommend. Palmer's gone now. Has been for a long time. He can't inflict his personal brand of terror on anyone else. Still, Harm took his time moving beyond the events of that day... Just when he was about to get clear... Jordan Parker died."
Trish squints in confusion, " I remember her. That is to say, I remember Harm mentioning her; a former girlfriend?
Mac nods quietly. "She was a nice woman."
"What did she have to do with Clark Palmer?"
"Nothing… Except that they were dating when Palmer was gunning for Harm. Harm gave her a weapon. Just so she'd have a means to protect herself if Palmer showed up again. The relationship ended. They broke up, and sometime later one of Jordan's patients... A man with some severe mental health issues… Well, let's just say of the two, he turned out to be the more stable member of his marriage. His delusional wife took it into her head the Jordan was the other woman. Jordan tried to defend herself but she was killed with the gun that Harm had given her for protection against Palmer. For a time, Harm was suspected of committing her murder. She was his ex-girlfriend; killed by his weapon. To anyone who didn't know him, and maybe to some who did know him, it looked bad. Harm wasn't responsible, but of course, Harm being Harm; he held himself accountable anyway.
"He did tell me she died; that she was killed. He did not tell me the rest... Just that she was gone. I knew there was more to the story. At that time, I didn't want to push him. I can see now; I should have. I left it alone because he was hurting. Before they broke up, I never got the sense that he was in love with her, but when she died, I suddenly realized that he may have cared more than I initially perceived... Unless it was his own misguided sense of guilt that deepened his grief."
Mac nods. "I don't think the relationship was ever truly one sided; maybe just a little bit lopsided. They both cared for each other. I suspect Jordan might have had deeper feelings… or somewhat different feelings… than he did. I got the impression she wanted more, I also got the impression she knew she wasn't going to get more." Mac shakes her head again as the conversation calls forth a distant memory. "She told me once that Harm would only be a part of her life until I decided I wanted him for myself. Or words to that effect, I remember laughing at her… Telling her she was way off base."
Mac pauses as dry laughter dies in her throat before it is fully expelled. "When I think about all the times we must have told that lie… To ourselves, to each other, to everyone else… No wonder we were, very nearly, always at each other's throats; or at the very least, supremely irritated with one another. That's also why our relationship is usually calmer than it was back then."
Still stunned by all she's learned, Trish muses as much to herself as Mac. "The truth shall set you free."
Mac nods. "Frequently annoying, but true. What were we talking about before we segued into Frick & Frack; the early years?"
"Frick & Frack 2.0... and all the wonderfully maddening things they are going to do to your weekly plans and schedules.
"Ah yes... I was supposed to take Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday off this week. Giving Wednesday Thursday and Friday to Harm. That way, we could all be together at the same time for at least one day during the week. The plan is to take all three kids, Laura, A.J., and Jimmy to the San Diego zoo. You and Frank took her to visit the aquarium. Now she wants to go see all the other animals. The ones that don't live in the ocean. We want to make a day of it, and even though it's summer, I can't help but think that Wednesday will still be less crowded than Saturday."
"Probably true. There will be fewer parents off work and available to take their children to the zoo tomorrow than Saturday."
"My thoughts exactly." Mac concurs. With our addresses on opposite sides of the continent, we don't get to see our godchildren nearly as much as we'd like. We split the week so we can each still put time in at our offices; one of us will always be with the children. Despite our best efforts to coordinate everything just right, Harm found out yesterday that he will have to go into his office on Thursday. He has no choice. So, we swapped my Tuesday with his Thursday. Then, yesterday afternoon, despite being told not to, Jimmy fed Candy about half of a very large box of chocolate covered almonds. I don't believe he meant any real harm. I think he just thought he was being nice to the dog. When we asked to know why he disobeyed us, he replied, "You said don't give her sweets. You didn't say don't give her nuts." Mac shrugs. "Maybe in his mind the two really did fall into separate categories, but if they did, I doubt they do anymore. Candy only threw up once, but when we realized she was sick and dropped everything to take her to the vet; I think it scared him. I know it scared him when Laura started crying while Candy was being examined. Because we took Candy to the vet, we pushed Laura's Monday therapy appointment to today. Which is why we need your help. Candy is fine. Dr. Dutton said to cut back on her dog food for a few days and supplement the difference with scrambled eggs and yogurt." Mac chuckles conspiratorially. "I think, eventually, Laura will even get over being mad at Jimmy… but it may not happen until long after he goes home. After we got home yesterday evening, Laura demanded that he hand over the rest of his almonds covered in dog poison. When he did, she retrieved one of her step stools and promptly washed them down the garbage disposal. She told Jimmy that if he ever fed her dog again, next time, she'd put him in the garbage disposal! Since then, Jimmy stays at least 10 foot away from Laura and Candy at all times. Harm tried to tell her that she wasn't being very nice; that Jimmy didn't mean to hurt Candy. He encouraged Jimmy to apologize. Jimmy said he didn't mean to, but he wasn't going to apologize either, not if Laura was going to be mad at him and chop him into little tiny pieces. This irritated Laura even more and she groaned aloud and yelled at him. 'I said if you do it again; don't you listen!" Harm tried again to guide her in a more appropriate direction. She sighed and told him, "I'd rather just go to my room... and she did!" Mac finishes; chuckling at the memory of the previous day's events.
Trish bites down on her lower lip trying, without any success, to stifle the laughter that bubbles out of her throat. "Poor Jimmy, poor Laura... poor Candy! I bet when she stomped off, sending herself to her room, she took her dog with her."
"You better believe it! She won't let Candy out of her sight; not even for a second. Normally, if the dog is feeling bad, she wants her own little bit of space. Either she's feeling better already, or she's picking up on, and responding to, the discord between Laura and Jimmy. She's hovering too closely. Laura has tripped over her twice in the last 12 hours. I can only hope she doesn't seriously bruise herself just in time for the social worker to show up."
"If an abundance of bruises do show up, it's probable they're not all from tripping over the dog. Last weekend when she stayed with us while you and Harm went to get the boys, Frank rented two Disney movies for her; something called Lilo & Stitch, and the second one was titled Stitch has a Glitch. She loved them; watched them both twice in two days."
Trish pauses long enough for Mac to raise a curious eyebrow. Assuming that, like her, Mac is probably more familiar with Disney movies that were popular 35 years ago, as opposed to the more recent ones, she waits for an encouraging nod before explaining further. "I'm guessing she identifies a great deal with the main character in the movies. Lilo is a seven-year-old Polynesian orphan who lives with her older sister, who is trying to maintain custody of the girl after the death of their parents. Lilo is highly intelligent, very precocious, and lonely. She and her older sister, Nani, are struggling with the shift in their relationship. Once sisters, they now find themselves to be more like parent and child. Nani is probably in her late teens or early twenties, but she's trying hard to take care of Lilo. She takes her sister to a pet shelter and the girl adopts what they assume is a very strange looking dog that Lilo promptly names Stitch, but Stitch isn't a dog. He's really the secret creation of a mad scientist alien from another planet. He's escapes captivity, and runs away to Earth when he realizes that he is an illegal creation that will be destroyed. Only, Stitch was created and hardwired for the sole purpose of destroying things. Lilo recognizes that he's a troublemaker, but she befriends him anyway. She spends much of the two movies monitoring what she calls his 'badness level' and trying to get him to be good. Meanwhile, he wreaks havoc in their lives and gets them into all kinds of trouble with Lilo's caseworker, Mr. Bubbles; who, despite his Men in Black-style attire, has a physique better suited to a bouncer for some inner-city biker bar. Besides Stitch, Lilo has two passions in life; one for all things Elvis, and one for hula dancing. After a weekend spent watching both movies, Laura announced she wanted to try hula dancing for herself. I know she fell down at least half a dozen times Sunday afternoon; but the kid wouldn't quit. So, she's probably black and blue."
Smiling, Mac comes to her feet. "Well, at least that explains a few things. Come on, I'll walk you back out. After that, I've got to get back to work so I can get out of here at a decent time this afternoon."
Trish nods and follows her lead. Only once they are clear of the bullpen does she ask, "What do her recent movie viewing habits clarify for you?"
"Sunday night, while Harm stayed with the boys, Laura and I went to the grocery store. On the way home, we stopped by to check on Skates. She's finally getting over her cold. Which makes my doctor very happy. They don't like for expectant mothers to get colds… Turns out they dislike it a whole lot more when the woman in question is acting as a surrogate. Anyway, Laura climbed up on the couch right beside Skates, kissed her belly, and started chattering away; talking to the baby the way she does. She carries on entire one-sided conversations talking to her unborn cousin as if they are old confidants. Sunday, she announced, "Guess what, baby!" This week I learned how to say the word family in four different languages. She rattled the word off in Spanish, Russian, Farsi, and finally in, what I can only assume was, Hawaiian… Ohana."
Trish nods as their walk and they each repeat the movies' mantra in quiet unison. "Ohana means family…and family means nobody gets left behind."
Pleased, Mac nods. "I wondered where she'd picked that up. Just from what you've told me, I can see where she would draw parallels between herself and Lilo, or maybe even herself and Stitch. She wants the adoption to go through, but she's still a bit skittish about it. I think she's still half-expects something to change. Like part of her is waiting for the rug that is going to be yanked out from under her feet. Also, Stitch is some bizarre alien creation who clearly found his family. Given that these are Disney movies, I don't need to watch them to figure that much out… And our family is currently participating in one bizarre, yet beautiful, biological experiment. Give Frank a big kiss and a hug from me. Tell him I said thank you for his choice of movies. If they help her process even a fraction of what is going on at our house right now, then I'm grateful beyond words Trish. If Laura gets a few minor bruises courtesy of ideas she picked up from those movies, it'll be a small price; one well worth paying. A few months ago, I bought her a hula hoop. I didn't think she could manage it, but she begged for it. I didn't have the heart to discourage her. Even the thought of doing that felt wrong. She played with it for a few weeks. After that, it was relegated to the back of her closet. Charlie has given her permission for water therapy. She likes to walk in the ocean. Over The last few days I've observed her out in the water attempting awkward looking gyrations. She topples over every time. Her head goes under, but then she regains her footing, pops back up, and starts over again. I thought maybe she was thinking about taking another run at the hula hoop; maybe practicing the hip movement out in the water where it's safe. It doesn't hurt if she misses a step and falls. Which is good, because she falls every single time."
Smiling, Trish shakes her head. "She's unsinkable… How are things going with the adoption process?"
Mac sighs as they step onto the elevator. "Right now we're in hurry-up-and-wait mode. We're waiting for our next hearing date. But, we've got plenty to do to keep us busy while we wait. When my elderly landlord left me, what used to be her quaint little cottage on the beach, there was less paperwork involved. In fact, if you add up the paperwork on everything I'm responsible for, I don't think all the paperwork combined equals half the amount of paperwork necessary to adopt a kid. But then again, I suppose that's the way it should be, after all, nothing else that I'm personally responsible for breathes… At least not yet anyway."
"It won't be long now. You've got A.J. and Jimmy this week. Jenny and Nicky next week. Laura's adoption. Plus, school starts again soon. You'll need to take her shopping. You're going to be busy. Maybe even so busy you forget to watch the calendar pages turn. The next three months will be gone, and you and Harm will be up at 3:00 AM juggling baby bottles, diapers and pacifiers."
"The thought of being awake at 0300 has never sounded better."
As they step out of the elevator and cross the lobby to the main exit, Trish laughs. "Trust me darling, it will lose its appeal rather quickly. Now, what's in this envelope I came to get."
Laughing at herself as well, Mac nods. "I know that. I'm not entirely delusional. Right now, I don't much care though. I'm sure, if they take after me, after about a week of what my mother referred to as my nocturnal howling, I'll feel differently about it… The contents of the envelope are meant for Charlie when you take Laura to therapy this afternoon. Sorry about that, I meant to leave it at the house for you. Somehow, it wound up in my briefcase. Harm's going to stay home with the boys. Something tells me their presence would be disruptive, even counterproductive, were they to attend one of Laura's therapy sessions.
"I don't doubt that at all." Trish concurs as they step out into the parking lot.
"Last week Charlie ordered an MRI for Laura's leg. She's had one before." Mac gestures toward the envelope. "When she was four. She didn't see Charlie back then. He asked if I could get a copy of the old one, which was no easy feat. She had a different pediatrician back then too. My sister's not the best record keeper. Tracking the man down was not easy. Charlie wants to compare that MRI to the more recent one. Laura has gotten considerably stronger since her return to therapy, but he says that doesn't necessarily mean that everything is better. She's tolerating the changes well. He wants a better idea of what comes next for her with regard to her therapy sessions. Tell him he can keep that if he wants to. I've already made a copy for Laura's adoption file; what Judge Dubose called the Book of Laura. Only now, it has a whole new volume. I hope we draw him for the next family court hearing. It's likely, but not an absolute guarantee. It would just make things easier, he's already familiar with Laura's case, and she's looking forward to the possibility of to seeing him again."
