A/N: Another miracle! Another chapter! I wanted to put more into this chapter, but it seemed long enough.
Miracles
Chapter 9: Neuf
Harm's POV
Guilty. They found my client guilty.
I turn to Sergeant Major Krohn, an apology on my lips, but he stops me before he can start.
"Commander, this isn't over."
"We'll appeal."
"No…I mean, God will show us the way. They'll find my wife's car, and then we'll find who attacked her." The Sergeant holds out his hand and I take it, and we share a hearty handshake. "Thank you for everything, Commander, and I'll keep praying for your friend."
"You're welcome, Jarvis. And—and thank you for your prayers."
"What's the last word on her condition, sir?"
At that, my eyes fill and I shake my head. "No…no change."
Sergeant Krohn gazes sympathetically at me. "It's hard, I know, but remember, she is still here."
I nod stoically, and then he's taken away to begin his term in Leavenworth. I watch him until the courtroom door closes behind him, and then I begin gathering my things. Before I can step out from behind the table, Father O'Rourke approaches me.
"Commander…I couldn't help overhearing about your Colonel's condition…"
I'm still struggling to regain composure, so I merely nod.
"Sergeant Krohn spoke of her during my last visit with him. We prayed together, and while we are to accept God's will, I do hope Colonel MacKenzie recovers."
Suddenly, I'm angry. Furious. This was God's will? For Mac to be in a coma all these weeks? For her to suffer due to a senseless accident? For Mic Brumby to still torment her even as she lay there because of him?!
"Thank you, Father," I say through clenched teeth. "But if this is God's will, then He should know I'll never accept it." The young priest remains utterly calm; there's no flinching, no raised eyebrow, no movement of his face whatsoever. There is a sympathetic note in his gaze, and it almost makes me angrier.
"Miracles do happen, Commander Rabb," Father O'Rourke sedately replies. Just ask Sergeant Krohn."
"You do know we lost, Father, don't you? I'd hardly call that a miracle."
The Father gives me a soft smile. "I was referring to Sergeant Krohn finding his wife in the first place. If he hadn't been led there by the good chaplain, she would likely be dead now."
"You actually believe that? That Chaplain Wiggins led him to Mrs. Krohn?"
"Yes, I do, Commander. And I think you do as well."
I try to shrug noncommittally as I start shoving papers in my briefcase, but I can't, because he's right. Well, maybe it isn't that I believe in Chaplain Wiggins per se, maybe it's that I believe in Jarvis Krohn. I'm not sure what the difference is, the endpoint of those thoughts is the same, after all.
"Might I walk out with you, Commander?" Father O'Rourke asks, just as my cell phone vibrates in my case. I glance down at it, and though I don't recognize the number, a feeling of dread settles upon me.
"Ra—" I have to clear my throat before I can continue. "Rabb," I choke out, my heart pounding furiously in my chest.
"Harm?" The voice is female, tentative, and recognition dawns on my almost immediately.
"Sara? What—"
"Harm, you need to get to Mac."
Bile rises in my throat. "What's happening?"
Sara hesitates and I want to shout at her to spit it out, but I bite my tongue and wait for her to speak again.
"Harm, I-I don't know. I just know you need to get to her. Now."
I don't bother to say anything else to her; I just flip my phone shut and run out of the court room. I sense Father O'Rourke following me, and he continues to follow me down to my car. If I had time for such things, I'd be shocked when he yanks open the passenger side and hops in, buckling his seatbelt as I tear out of the parking lot.
The drive seems to take an eternity, and neither of us say anything. I concentrate on driving as fast as I can without getting pulled over, sometimes faster, while weaving in and out of traffic and doing the exact thing that makes me curse inwardly at such irresponsible drivers. Finally, we're pulling up at the hospital and rush to her room, Father O'Rourke still hot on my heels.
When I reach the ICU, I'm surprised at the lack of activity. I'd expected frantic staff to be going in and out of Mac's room, alarms sounding, people shouting. Instead, it's all calm; I can't even hear any of the random beeps from IV pumps or monitors.
They know me at the desk and I don't even bother to stop there anymore, but this time I barely get two steps past there before one of the charge nurses stops in front of me.
"You can't go in there, Mr. Rabb."
"What?" I still don't stop, and I don't until someone grabs me around my arm. It's Charles, one of the day nurses that has taken care of Mac once or twice.
"Mr. Rabb…I'm sorry," he says firmly. "But her medical power of attorney has limited who can see her."
It takes me a moment to process what the RN has just said, but when my brain finally catches up with my ears, I'm shocked and angry.
"Wait…what? I'm her medical power of attorney."
The nurse looks unsure for a moment, but then Carol, the charge, holds up a stack of papers. "I'm sorry, Mr. Rabb. I have her papers right here. Signed and notarized."
"That's impossible. The hospital should already have all that on file. I haven't brought in any new paperwork. I've been her power of attorney for the last three years. More than three years."
"I'm sorry, Mr. Rabb— "
"Stop apologizing, dammit! Those papers are obviously fake!" A thought, an obvious one really, invades my mind. "It's Brumby, isn't it."
"Who?" Carol asks. She flips through the papers in her hand and then nods. "Yes. Here it is. 'Michael T Brumby."
"It's her fiancé, sir," Charles attempts to clarify. I am instantly incensed.
"The hell he is! She broke it off!"
"Sir—"
"For fuck's sake! He's the reason she's here! He's why she fell in the first place!"
At that moment, a figure steps through the sliding glass door to Mac's room.
It's him.
I break away from Charles and lunge at that smug bastard, grabbing the lapels of his jacket to pull him closer to me. "You son of a bitch! How did you do it? How did you get anyone to notarize it? Obviously, Mac wasn't there for it!"
Brumby just stands there, a smirk on his face.
"Yes, she was, mate. She changed it over to me two months ago. Show him, Carol." Carol looks unsure, so I slowly let Brumby down and nod at her. She's still tentative when she comes over, stopping as far away from us as she can and still be able to hand me the papers. I flip through them and my stomach drops. It does look like Mac signed them back at the beginning of December. Why didn't you say anything to me, Mac? I'm devastated. Actually, devastated doesn't even begin to describe what I'm feeling. I flip through them one more time and am about to admit defeat for the moment—I'm not going to give up that easily—and then I see it. It's a good attempt, an almost perfect attempt, but this is not Mac's signature.
"You bastard. You forged this. You signed her name, found someone to claim they witnessed it…just to keep her away from me! Why? You know damn well what happened! You know she gave you back the ring. You threw your key at her and hurt her eye! And as if that weren't enough, you dragged her, dizzy and sick, to the stairwell and let her fall! Her blood is on your hands!" I stop for a moment, my chest heaving, and from the corner of my eye, I see a flash of dark blue that tells me security has arrived. I draw closer to Brumby and grab a fistful of his shirt. "Wait…you didn't have any blood on your hands…you ran. You didn't help her. It was me who had her blood all over me. Me. Me that helped her. Me she was talking to when she said 'I love you.'"
A flash of something goes through Mic's eyes and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but I stop him. "You're not going to get away with this, mate."
Brumby's expression immediately turns smug once again. "We'll see about that, mate. You shouldn't have fucked her, Rabb. If you hadn't, she wouldn't be here. I've already told you that once."
I want to vomit as a voice inside me whispers that he's right. Perhaps I do bear some of the responsibility here…but even I, with my tendency to blame myself for everything, know that the fault lies almost entirely with this scum before me. Yes, if Mac and I hadn't finally gotten our heads out of our sixes, if we'd each ended our respective relationships cleanly rather than having them discover our indiscretion the way they had…if, if, if…so many ifs…
"Go to Hell, Brumby. And get the hell out of my way. Get the hell out of this hospital. I'm going to see Mac now, and you can go get fu—"
It's then that a stronger hand clamps around my arm. "Sir, you need to leave." He glances over at Brumby, his partner now at the bastard's side. "Both of you. Now. Otherwise, we will forcibly remove you."
I know I'm going to have to follow their commands now, but this isn't over. I nod, but before I can take a step, fear and grief over Mac overtake me. "Please…just let me—" The hand on my arm tells me they won't let me lay eyes on her before I go.
"I'll sit with her, Commander." Father O'Rourke's gentle voice reaches my ear and nearly startles me. I'd forgotten that he was there, but now that I remember, I'm grateful he accompanied me. I nod at him and whisper a thank you, and then I let the burly security guard lead me from the unit, Brumby behind me.
Mac's Dream…
Little Sarah woke up, feeling just as tired as when she fell asleep. The nice man was gone, and she felt bereft. She felt weak, and any strength the young girl felt before seemed to have left with him.
Sarah dragged herself closer to the end of the pier again. She didn't try to sit up to dangle her feet over the edge; she feared she'd fall if she so much as twitched the wrong way. Besides, the sea was dark, the waves choppy, and the salty spray of it hit her face and arms like tiny needles.
The sky above her was just as dark and grey. The clouds moved in the sky with the wind, wind that was now cold and made her shiver. She tried to pull her jacket more around her, but her efforts were in vain. She started to cry then, curling herself into a little ball as the tears flowed down her cheeks.
She stayed that way for long minutes, and it wasn't until the sound of the jets flying overhead reached her ears that she sat up again.
The angry red jet flew in first and Sarah whimpered in fear. Why, oh, why wouldn't he leave her be? She looked around her, hoping that the nice man would come back to her.
It wasn't long before the pilot's fearsome voice filled her ears. He was squeezing her hand too hard again and it hurt so much but he ignored her as she begged to be let go. He kept telling her he loved her. She was his. The more he spoke, the harder he gripped her, and she wished she could just go to sleep forever so she wouldn't have to be near this pilot who hurt her, who's scent was all wrong. She tried to scream at him. To curse at him. Tried to use words that she'd heard from other scary men in her life, words she'd heard him use a number of times. He didn't hear her, or if he did, he ignored her, while his voice pierced her ears like a spear.
After several more minutes of torture, Sarah cried out for her friend, the one with the sea-colored plane. Well…it was sea-colored when the sea was calm and blue and green. She sobbed in agony when he didn't answer her. Why wouldn't he answer her? What had she done to make him go away?
"You didn't do anything, Sarah. He wants to come back for you. He's trying so hard to get to you."
Sarah looked up through her tears. The nice man was back! She tried to push herself up to go to him, but every one of her limbs was heavy. She was grateful when the man picked her up and settled her in his lap to cradle her against his chest.
"Why can't he get to me?" She buried her face in the man's chest. "It's the red one, isn't it. He won't stop! He'll never stop!" She pulled back for a moment. "I want to go home. Can I go home? Please?"
The man smiled gently at her. "You can, Sarah."
"How?"
"You just wish it."
"But won't my friend be sad?"
"Yes, he will be. Very sad."
"I don't want to hurt him."
"I know, sweetheart."
"I don't know if I can…go home, that is. I want to see him. One last time."
The man nodded. "I know, honey."
The two sat in silence while Sarah scanned the sky for her friend. It wasn't long, though, before the fatigue settled on her in a heavy shroud.
"I think I'm ready," Sarah whispered. "I just wish it?"
"Yes…but are you sure, Sarah?"
"I—I think so."
"Okay, then…"
Sarah closed her eyes and imagined a beautiful place with green grass, with blue skies and bright sun. She could feel the warmth of it, and she felt a burst of strength, and then she started to run. She was almost there when she heard it.
A plane.
His plane!
She turned around and ran back to the pier where the man still stood, gazing across the water. The ocean and the sky were a little calmer now, but there were more clouds roiling in.
"He's back! He's back!" With renewed vigor she jumped up and down, happy and excited for the first time in what felt like days. She was so happy she started to giggle. But then a shadow felt over everything. A shadow in the shape of an angry red airplane.
And it was shooting at her friend!
"No!" she screamed! "Stop it! Stop it!"
Her friend fired back, but it didn't seem to have any effect. Soon more jets were swirling around, the engines all at a high-pitched whine. They flew higher and higher until they disappeared altogether.
"Come back! Come back!" she shouted at her friend, but he was gone.
Too tired to even cry now, Sarah fell in a heap, splinters from an old plank in the pier driving into her. Darkness grew around her, and she began to crave the warmth of 'home' again. She began to gather her strength again, but before she could pull herself up once more, a small black and white plane appeared and hummed gently in the sky. She immediately sensed the pilot was gentle, peaceful, and when she heard his lilting voice, she smiled.
"Who is that?" she asked the nice man who was once again by her side.
"That is my friend."
"I like him."
The nice man smiled.
Warmth spread through Sarah despite the dark skies. "I think I'll stay awhile."
End Chapter 9