Chapter 11
Harm and Mac's lives became a whirlwind as the cruise date neared. They never referred to it as the wedding day-- not aloud, at least. Between the interviews and television appearances with the rest of the cast, the hours with Steiner's staff learning just exactly what would be going on during the six weeks at sea, and a multitude of appointments with costuming to get an entire wardrobe put together (not to mention a wedding dress, in Mac's case), the two had little time to contemplate the future.
It didn't really hit Mac until they were standing in the lobby of their hotel in Tampa, waiting for Sturgis, Bud and Harriet to arrive from the airport. The show provided transportation and lodging for a best man and maid of honor for each couple, which Sturgis and Harriet had both happily agreed to. Bud had opted to come with his wife. Mac accepted it all as gracefully as she could. She wasn't sure how many witnesses she wanted to this thing. One part of her wanted to shout, I'm getting married tomorrow! and do a little jig right there in the lobby. The rest wanted to curl up in a little ball and cry because she wasn't getting married tomorrow-- not in the way that counted most.
Harm squeezed her hand, bringing her back to the present. "There they are."
Mac looked toward the hotel's gilded front doors. She spotted Sturgis's tall figure immediately, and right behind him Bud and Harriet. To her surprise and dismay, Admiral Chegwidden, Sergei, and Victor Galindez entered with them.
Please don't tell me I have to do this in front of the entire office, Mac thought as they went to greet their friends. She embraced Harriet as Harm shook hands with the men and hugged his brother.
"So… A.J…" Harm drawled with a sly smile. They would not be using ranks tonight. "What are you doing here?"
The Admiral grinned impartially at the two of them. "Are you kidding? We--" He indicated Victor and Sergei. "--wouldn't miss this for the world." His expression sobered for an instant. "Besides, I brought something for you two… for the honeymoon."
Mac studied Chegwidden. He obviously wasn't talking about edible underwear or any other such traditional newlywed fair. Harm caught the suggestion as well, acknowledging the Admiral with a nod. They would talk about it later in one of the rooms where there were fewer ears to overhear.
"Have you all had dinner yet?" Mac asked.
"No. Our flight left too early to serve dinner. I don't know about anybody else, but I'm starving!" Harriet said.
"Maybe after everyone is checked in, we can meet for dinner, then. The restaurant in the hotel here is pretty good…" Harm trailed off as his gaze fixed on the glass doors fronting the hotel.
"Harm?" She looked toward the hotel entrance, but didn't immediately see cause for concern.
"What is my mother doing here?" Harm shot the Admiral an accusing glance, but Chegwidden only shrugged.
A moment later, Mac spotted Trish and her husband. They came through the front doors and walked toward the group, hand-in-hand. Trish waved cheerfully when she spotted them.
Harm flashed his parents a guarded smile. "Hi, Mom, Frank." He bent down to let his mother wrap her arms around his neck in a huge hug. "What are you guys doing here?"
"Don't be silly, Harm. Of course we came." She waved the unspoken protest away and turned to Mac, taking both her hands in greeting. "It's good to see you, too, Mac. You look lovely."
Mac smiled despite herself. "Thank you." She could see the glimmer of tears in the older woman's eyes and wondered if she, too, were having trouble remembering this wasn't real.
Trish went on to hug Sergei with the same deep affection she'd shown her son. Harm introduced his stepfather, Frank, to the rest of the JAG crew. Frank and the Admiral immediately fastened on the topic of fly fishing while Trish pumped Sergei for information about how he was settling in D.C.
Harm and Mac exchanged helpless looks. Well, Mac thought, your family was supposed to be there for your wedding, right?
#
It had gotten late by the time everyone gathered for dinner. Sturgis arrived with his carryon still slung over his shoulder. He tucked it carefully beneath his chair as he sat.
"What's in the bag?" Harm asked.
Sturgis grinned. "You'll find out."
Harm and Mac exchanged looks. "I'm not sure I like the sound of that," Harm told her in an undertone. She smiled wanly.
Harm looked at her with concern. "Is everything all right, Mac?"
Mac forced herself to nod. Everything was not all right, but there wasn't anything to be done about it. She felt his hand on her waist, guiding her to her chair. The touch sent shivers up her back that had nothing to do with the heavy air-conditioning inside the hotel. She wanted him with a depth of passion that was, in itself, a little scary, but she was far more afraid of having him without the security of a commitment she knew he was unwilling to make. Losing him would leave too many wounds in her heart. Whoever had said it was better to have loved and lost, she thought, was clearly out of his mind.
There was quite a bit of banter at the table, which Mac did her best to join in on. Harm tolerated the teasing good-naturedly, and in return razzed Bud and Harriet mercilessly every time they had to address one of the higher ranking officers at the table by name. Midway through the meal, a young woman approached the group, introducing herself as a reporter for Entertainment Weekly. Another woman trailed her, bulky camera in hand.
"Do you mind if we take some pictures?" the first woman asked, displaying a perfect smile.
"Help yourself." The Admiral waved expansively.
Mac quickly stuffed her darker thoughts away. It was time to act her part. She leaned into Harm, smiling for the camera, and felt his lips brush her hair.
A few moments later, Sturgis leaned forward, tapping his fork against his wineglass. The table quieted, and even the photographer paused as everyone turned to look.
Sturgis rose. "I think I'm going to take this opportunity to fulfill my duty as best man and make a toast to the happy couple." There were several pleased exclamations, though whether those were genuine or for the reporter's benefit, Mac couldn't guess. While the smattering of talk died down, Sturgis snagged a passing waiter and spoke to the man in a low voice for a moment. The waiter then nodded and left.
"Harm, what is he doing?" Mac murmured into her partner's ear, a smile plastered to her face. They hadn't planned to do any of the traditional pre-wedding things, for obvious reasons.
"I have no idea," Harm answered in the same low tone. "But I'm sure it'll end up embarrassing at least one of us, if not both."
"He does realize I've been trained to kill people with my bare hands, doesn't he?"
Harm chuckled. "If you'd like, I can hold him down while you remind him."
That started Mac laughing. She muffled it with one hand.
"Well, as you all know, Harm and I are friends from way back." Sturgis swept his gaze around the table, ending up with Harm and Mac. "We went to college together--"
"Where, I've heard, you two got into quite a bit of trouble," the Admiral interjected.
Sturgis grinned. "That we did. Harm kept coming up with these harebrained schemes--"
"Me?" Harm gave his friend a mock glare. "Who was it that thought an unannounced fireworks display in the quad would be a good idea for Veteran's Day?"
Mac laughed as the Admiral winced. They all knew the two had gone to the Naval Academy together, and what the reaction to unexpected explosions would have been there, Mac could easily imagine.
"Anyway," Sturgis went on with a grin. "We were always getting into some kind of trouble, but the amazing thing was how often Harm managed to talk us out of it with that golden tongue of his." He winked at his friend. "The legal profession is definitely the place for you, buddy."
"Gee, thanks."
"Is this story going anywhere, Sturgis?" the Admiral asked, putting a little extra emphasis on Commander Turner's given name.
"Why, yes it is, A.J." Sturgis returned without batting an eye. The JAG personnel snickered at the expression that flickered across the Admiral's face. Sturgis turned back to his audience.
"Harm and I were Sophomores, I believe. We'd just finished our semester finals, which, for various reasons, neither of us was certain we'd be present for, let alone pass. But we did, so we decided to celebrate-- in style." Sturgis grinned at the memory. "We plunked down fifty bucks a piece on a very nice bottle of scotch which neither of us was old enough, at that point, to drink." A few people shook their heads and made tsking sounds. Sergei looked a bit baffled, but the concept of being too young to drink was an unfamiliar one to the Russian.
Sturgis' grin widened. "It gets better. Not only did we buy this bottle of scotch, but, in all our infinite wisdom, we decided to take it back to the dorm to drink it."
"You got caught, I hope." Trish eyed her son and Sturgis as if debating which one to take to task first.
"Yes, ma'am, we did," Sturgis assured her. "By possibly the biggest, meanest instructor in the school. He was at least three inches taller than Harm, and probably weighed as much as the two of us combined." Sturgis mimed a hulking muscleman. "So he stands there, glowering, and demands to see what we have in the bag." Mac had no trouble envisioning the scene and chuckled. She'd met some pretty scary drill instructors in her time.
Sturgis shrugged. "So of course, I show him. I figured we were dead. The instructor, he takes this deep breath, like he's getting ready to blast us… and then Harm jumps in."
"Uh oh…" Mac grinned at her partner, who was staring at Sturgis in a kind of mystified horror.
"Mr. Innocent, there, starts into this big spiel about how we two underage fellows surely wouldn't spend a hundred bucks on a bottle of scotch to drink it. Oh, no. That, instead, we'd been talking about the future-- particularly about women-- and debating whether there was such a thing as fate. He tells the guy this with a straight face, do you believe, and then goes on to talk about soulmates and predestination and grand designs and a whole bunch of other romantic gobbledygook. He tells the instructor that the scotch is for the day one of us finds the perfect woman, proving once and for all that there is such a thing as destiny.
"Now me," Sturgis went on, "I'm over there biting my tongue to keep from laughing. But the instructor-- this huge gorilla of a man-- is all misty-eyed. He's nodding at everything Harm says, like he agrees with every word."
"He let you go?" Bud asked Harm incredulously.
Laughing, Harm nodded. "He let us go." He switched his attention to Sturgis. "I can't believe you remember that!"
"Even better," Sturgis assured him with a sly grin. "I still have the bottle of scotch." With that he bent down to retrieve a dark brown bottle from the bag he'd brought with him and set it on the table. The Admiral picked it up, examining the faded label with an expression of approval.
As if on cue, the waiter came back with a tray of empty glasses, which he distributed around the table. At Sturgis' request, he opened the bottle for them before disappearing once again.
Mac and Harm both waited quietly while glasses were passed and poured. Mac didn't take any, of course, which didn't bother anyone. She was grateful her friends understood her problem with alcohol and didn't ever make her feel uncomfortable about it. So, when Sturgis and the others raised their scotch glasses, she lifted the plain tonic she'd been drinking and waited to hear what he would say. The reporter remained in the background, listening unobtrusively. Mac was distantly aware of the flash and whir of the camera as the photographer captured the event.
Sturgis regained their attention, his expression growing solemn. "Today seemed like the appropriate time to open this bottle." He focused on Harm and Mac. "I had pretty much given up on the idea that there might be such a thing as a perfect match… until I saw you two together."
Mac bit her lip, her heart pounding. Beneath the table, Harm's fingers tightened painfully around hers. Sturgis wasn't playing to the camera, they both knew. The look in his eyes was far too penetrating.
Sturgis's voice became contemplative. "And so, here is my toast: Harm, Mac… you two have something that only a few people will ever be so fortunate as to find. Don't take it for granted. I wish you both a lifetime of love and joy… and I can only hope that I will someday be as lucky." He raised his glass. "To you both."
"Hear, hear." The agreement echoed around the table, accompanied by the clinking of glasses.
Mac risked a look at Harm. She wanted to see in his eyes that Sturgis was right, that it was worth the risk. Instead, when he met her gaze, his blue eyes were shadowed and filled with a quiet apology. Bitter disappointment filled her.
"Are you even going to be able to make yourself say the words tomorrow?" she asked in a fierce, angry whisper. Without waiting to see his reaction, she tossed her napkin on the table and stood, her throat burning.
"Excuse me. I'm just going to go the ladies room for a minute," she assured the group with a false smile. She didn't really care where she went, so long as she could have a few minutes of solitude in which to compose herself. Otherwise, she'd never be able to keep up the pretense.
Mac was nearly running by the time she reached the restroom. As in many hotels, there was a small ante room that boasted a settee and a counter lined with gilt-framed mirrors. Mac sank onto the couch and laid her head in her hands. She began to cry, unable to contain the hurt any longer.
The door to the restroom opened. Mac heard footsteps on the tiled floor, but didn't look up until she felt the weight of another person settle on the couch beside her. Embarrassed, she tried to dry her eyes as Trish handed her a tissue. Harm's mother smiled kindly.
"It's all right, dear. I don't think I've ever heard of a bride who didn't cry at least a little on the day before her wedding."
Mac stared at her, taken aback. For a moment, she couldn't bring herself to continue the lie, no matter who might be listening. "I'm not his bride and you know it!"
At Trish's pained expression, Mac's anger crumbled. She shook her head. "I'm so sorry to be putting you through this, Trish. I know how much you want to see Harm find someone…" She couldn't hold the other woman's gaze and looked away.
Trish pursed her lips. "You don't think he has?"
Mac's throat closed painfully tight. She swallowed hard against a fresh round of tears and shook her head, unable to speak.
Trish's expression didn't change. "He loves you, you know."
Mac nodded. "I know," she managed. She twisted the tissue in her hands until it began to tear. "That doesn't mean he's willing to commit to me."
Trish snorted sourly. "Well, if there's anything my son is afraid of, that would be it," she agreed.
Mac looked up at her, surprised to find such a sympathetic spirit in Harm's mother.
Trish smiled at her. "To be honest, I wouldn't have believed it, either, particularly with the rest of what's going on." Mac understood she meant the investigation. "Except for one thing."
Mac's heart stuttered a beat. "What?"
"This." Trish reached over to take Mac's left hand in her own and turned it to display the engagement ring she'd grown so accustomed to wearing. Mac looked at her hand, then glanced questioningly at Trish.
"Ah. He didn't tell you, did he." It wasn't a question.
"Tell me what?" Hope and suspicion warred in her heart, fighting for dominance.
Trish smiled wistfully. She touched the ring. "Harm's father gave this to me when he asked me to marry him." She met Mac's gaze with an expression that was both beautiful and sad. "When I decided to remarry, I gave it to Harm… to give to his wife."
For a moment, Mac couldn't breathe. Her fingers curled involuntarily around the ring that had suddenly taken on so much meaning.
"I wasn't even certain he still had it," Trish continued, her tone reflective. "I hadn't seen it since then."
Mac was struck by the inconsistency of the statement. "What about Diane?" she blurted, then wondered if she sounded like a jealous fool.
Trish chuckled. "No, he didn't give this ring to her. Hmmm. That is interesting, isn't it? It never occurred to me." She sighed, studying Mac intently. "You do look like her. I remember Harm telling me how uncanny the resemblance was, but I didn't believe him until I saw you myself."
Mac chewed on her lip. "What was she like?" Am I really a ghost of his past? She had convinced herself otherwise long ago, but now the doubts resurfaced.
Trish patted her hand. "Diane was a lovely girl." Her smile deepened. "But you, Mac… you're something truly special. Harm is very luck to have you."
Mac felt a surge of gratitude toward the woman beside her. On impulse, she hugged her. "Thank you."
Trish returned the embrace. "You're welcome, dear. Now, shall we go finish dinner?"
Mac wiped her nose, sniffling. "I think I need a few minutes."
"Of course." Trish gave her a gentle smile. "I'll head back to make sure they don't send out a search party."
Mac nodded. When Trish was gone, she sat and stared at the floor, her eyes idly tracing the carpet's fleur de lis pattern. For some reason, Mic's voice kept repeating in her head, telling her she only agreed to marry him because she was afraid to be alone.
Is that what I'm doing now? she wondered. Is that why I want this with Harm so much? The tissue in her hands was quickly becoming a pile of lint. She went to throw it away in a nearby trashcan.
No, she decided finally. I love him. It felt good to admit that to herself, and she smiled. With everything in me, I love him. I'm just angry because he's not ready to love me the same way, yet. She stared at her reflection in one of the oval mirrors. All her life, Mac had dealt with the hurt and disappointment of those she loved not returning that love they way they were supposed to. Nothing she had ever done-- not becoming a highly-decorated Marine officer, nor a superb lawyer-- had ever made her parents love her the way she wanted to be loved. Completely. Unconditionally.
In Harmon Rabb, she'd found one person who just might love her that way, if he could overcome his own demons. It was hard to hope, though, when she'd bee hurt so often.
Mac sighed. But if there's one thing I've learned, it's that I can't make Harm do anything. Maybe I need to be willing to be alone, and be patient, until that time comes.
Resolved, she spent a moment touching up her makeup, then headed back to the party.
