Harm walked up the quiet city street. He was wearing his dress uniform,
pressed and polished. He stopped in front of an old townhouse and pulled a
tattered piece of old paper out his pocket. He studied it for a moment,
for two years he'd dreaded this moment, then looked back up at the house.
It was a red brick building with and iron fence encasing its small street-
side garden. The garden itself was magnificent. Harm walked up the brick
pathway, up the steps and knocked on the door.
A few moments passed, and finally a man answered. He was a tall man with salt and pepper hair, but it was his eyes that were most striking. They were the steely eyes of a man who has seen the evils of the world and is the wiser for it. "How can I help you?" the man asked.
Harm cleared his throat. "I'm looking for Colonel Matthew O'Hara."
The man seemed to stand taller upon hearing the name. "I am Colonel O'Hara. What can I do for you, young man?"
"Sir, I've come to," Harm seemed lost for words, "I've come to, well, um." He felt his nerve slipping away. How was he going to get through this?
"Son, why don't you come in and have a drink?" Colonel O'Hara offered. He recognized the difficulty this young officer was under, but didn't know why he should feel it. He ushered Harm into his study, and motioned for Harm to take a seat in one of the full leather chairs. Harm sat down uncomfortably and stared down at the tatter piece of paper in his hands. Colonel O'Hara had picked up a crystal decanter and was pouring an amber liquor into crystal glasses for them. He offered a glass to Harm, saying, "I hope you like bourbon, lieutenant."
Harm nodded as he took a sip of the potent liquor. "Very good, sir," he said softly after tasting the quality of the drink.
"What's you're name, son?" the colonel asked taking a seat in the chair beside Harm.
"Lieutenant Harmon Rabb, Jr., sir," Harm told him, and he could see understanding dawn in Colonel O'Hara's eyes. He turned his head back down to the tatter paper in his hands.
"I've never known an officer of the United States Army to turn away from a challenging situation," Colonel O'Hara remarked, and was rewarded when Harm defiantly raised his eyes. "That's better soldier. Now, what brings you here?"
"Colonel, I was wounded in a battle two years ago," Harm began, and as the bourbon began to warm his stomach he continued telling Colonel O'Hara everything that Mac had done for him, from the first surgery she had performed to her cooling his fevered brow at the Whitfield place. The colonel didn't interrupt Harm; instead he listened quietly, sipping his bourbon, until Harm finally finished, "That was the last time I saw Mac."
There were unshed tears in his eyes as he continued, "An officer I had gone through the academy with came and found me at the Whitfield place. Assuming that your niece and the others were Confederate sympathizers, he took me and left them unguarded."
Colonel O'Hara stiffened noticeably, and Harm rushed on. "I don't blame him, for all he knew was that I was injured and had been missing for a long time. I blame myself for not addressing my injuries sooner." Harm paused, the memory of the burned farm still fresh in his mind. "I came around two days later, and when I discovered what had happened I raced back to the farm. I found it burned to the ground. There was nothing left."
Colonel O'Hara still didn't speak. He sat rigidly in his chair waiting for whatever else Harm was going to say. And he wasn't disappointed. Harm spoke again, but in a slightly broken voice, "I kept this. Sarah never knew that I had it; it's a letter you had written her. That's how I knew where to find you." He handed the letter to Colonel O'Hara, who looked at it for a moment then handed it back.
Harm ran his finger over the paper, his eyes now brimming. "I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am for everything your niece did to save me." A tear fell unrestrained from Harm's eye. "I never said a lot of things I wish I had said. You're niece was an extraordinary woman." Harm couldn't speak anymore, for he was choked with emotion. Colonel O'Hara rose from his chair and went to comfort the young man. He placed a strong hand on the shaking shoulder and gave it a firm press. Just when he thought his heart would break from the pain, a woman's voice broke the silence of the room.
"Uncle, I'm going to," she began, but she stopped short at the sight before her, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had a guest." She turned to leave, but in that brief moment Harm had recognized her. Her hair was still hanging loosely down her back, wavy and wild. She was still dressed in a simple brown skirt and plain white top. And her eyes; they were still the same warm, passionate chocolate.
"Sarah," he breathed as a stood up, and Mac stopped dead in her tracks. She whirled around to look again. The man who her uncle had been comforting was Harm. He was older, wiser looking. But his eyes were still as deep as the ocean; she felt as though she could fall into them. "Harm," she whispered.
They stared at each other, neither one moving, neither one breathing. Colonel O'Hara stood by silently watching it all unfold. Mac had never told him what had happened on her journey north, except that she and the Roberts family had only just made it to safety. Meeting this Lt. Rabb explained a lot. Suddenly, a laugh filled the room. Harm had begun to laugh, a heartfelt, rich laugh.
Sarah looked at him quizzically, but then she too smiled. She gave one hiccuping giggle as she stepped forward into his arms. She clung to him as her tears soaked his crisp uniform. "I can't believe it. I thought you were dead," he whispered into her hair. "These last two years, I thought you were dead."
"How did you find me?" Mac finally asked.
Harm held up the ruined piece of paper. Mac studied it for a moment, and then she embraced him again; it was the letter Colonel O'Hara had sent her while Harm had been staying with her at Sweetfern. She held him, fearing that if she loosened her grip at all he would slip away again. Eventually, Colonel O'Hara thought it would be prudent to announce his presence, so he cleared his throat and Mac released Harm.
"Sarah, from what Lt. Rabb has just been telling, I think you had better tell him what happened to Bud and Harriet," the colonel suggested, and Mac launched into an account of what had happened after begin separated from Harm. That night, Brumby had caught up with them. They'd had just enough warning to get out of the house on time, but there was nothing they could do to try to save it. Brumby had been thrown from his horse that night, and that was the last Mac knew of him. She and the Roberts left Mr. Whitfield as his brother's farm and had then tried to travel south to Florida, but they were blocked by the moving armies. Travel was dangerous for them, but they decided that perhaps they should go north. They traveled by the underground railroad, and eventually made it to New York.
"Harriet and Bud stayed with us until the baby was born," Mac finished, "A beautiful baby girl named Sarah. They bought a town house and are living peacefully here in New York still."
Harm had remained silent throughout Mac's long narrative, but he never once let go of her hand. Colonel O'Hara noted the familiarity with which Harm was treating his niece, but he was not worried about it. In fact, he was quite pleased. This was the first time since her arrival in New York two years ago, that Mac shown any real passion. It seemed as if the shadow had finally been lifted from her eyes. "I'll leave you two to get caught up," the colonel said, and ignoring their protests for him to stay he left the room.
Now that they were alone Harm and Mac didn't know what to say to each other. The same pull existed between them, but neither knew the words to express it. They stood in silence for a long moment, just staring at each other. Finally, tired of inaction and afraid that he would never get another chance, Harm gather Mac into his arms again. He crushed her to him, and she wrapped her strong arms around him in turn. In that one moment, they knew without words that they were never going to be apart again, and with that knowledge, Harm lifted Mac's chin and kissed her for the first time.
A few moments passed, and finally a man answered. He was a tall man with salt and pepper hair, but it was his eyes that were most striking. They were the steely eyes of a man who has seen the evils of the world and is the wiser for it. "How can I help you?" the man asked.
Harm cleared his throat. "I'm looking for Colonel Matthew O'Hara."
The man seemed to stand taller upon hearing the name. "I am Colonel O'Hara. What can I do for you, young man?"
"Sir, I've come to," Harm seemed lost for words, "I've come to, well, um." He felt his nerve slipping away. How was he going to get through this?
"Son, why don't you come in and have a drink?" Colonel O'Hara offered. He recognized the difficulty this young officer was under, but didn't know why he should feel it. He ushered Harm into his study, and motioned for Harm to take a seat in one of the full leather chairs. Harm sat down uncomfortably and stared down at the tatter piece of paper in his hands. Colonel O'Hara had picked up a crystal decanter and was pouring an amber liquor into crystal glasses for them. He offered a glass to Harm, saying, "I hope you like bourbon, lieutenant."
Harm nodded as he took a sip of the potent liquor. "Very good, sir," he said softly after tasting the quality of the drink.
"What's you're name, son?" the colonel asked taking a seat in the chair beside Harm.
"Lieutenant Harmon Rabb, Jr., sir," Harm told him, and he could see understanding dawn in Colonel O'Hara's eyes. He turned his head back down to the tatter paper in his hands.
"I've never known an officer of the United States Army to turn away from a challenging situation," Colonel O'Hara remarked, and was rewarded when Harm defiantly raised his eyes. "That's better soldier. Now, what brings you here?"
"Colonel, I was wounded in a battle two years ago," Harm began, and as the bourbon began to warm his stomach he continued telling Colonel O'Hara everything that Mac had done for him, from the first surgery she had performed to her cooling his fevered brow at the Whitfield place. The colonel didn't interrupt Harm; instead he listened quietly, sipping his bourbon, until Harm finally finished, "That was the last time I saw Mac."
There were unshed tears in his eyes as he continued, "An officer I had gone through the academy with came and found me at the Whitfield place. Assuming that your niece and the others were Confederate sympathizers, he took me and left them unguarded."
Colonel O'Hara stiffened noticeably, and Harm rushed on. "I don't blame him, for all he knew was that I was injured and had been missing for a long time. I blame myself for not addressing my injuries sooner." Harm paused, the memory of the burned farm still fresh in his mind. "I came around two days later, and when I discovered what had happened I raced back to the farm. I found it burned to the ground. There was nothing left."
Colonel O'Hara still didn't speak. He sat rigidly in his chair waiting for whatever else Harm was going to say. And he wasn't disappointed. Harm spoke again, but in a slightly broken voice, "I kept this. Sarah never knew that I had it; it's a letter you had written her. That's how I knew where to find you." He handed the letter to Colonel O'Hara, who looked at it for a moment then handed it back.
Harm ran his finger over the paper, his eyes now brimming. "I just wanted to tell you how grateful I am for everything your niece did to save me." A tear fell unrestrained from Harm's eye. "I never said a lot of things I wish I had said. You're niece was an extraordinary woman." Harm couldn't speak anymore, for he was choked with emotion. Colonel O'Hara rose from his chair and went to comfort the young man. He placed a strong hand on the shaking shoulder and gave it a firm press. Just when he thought his heart would break from the pain, a woman's voice broke the silence of the room.
"Uncle, I'm going to," she began, but she stopped short at the sight before her, "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you had a guest." She turned to leave, but in that brief moment Harm had recognized her. Her hair was still hanging loosely down her back, wavy and wild. She was still dressed in a simple brown skirt and plain white top. And her eyes; they were still the same warm, passionate chocolate.
"Sarah," he breathed as a stood up, and Mac stopped dead in her tracks. She whirled around to look again. The man who her uncle had been comforting was Harm. He was older, wiser looking. But his eyes were still as deep as the ocean; she felt as though she could fall into them. "Harm," she whispered.
They stared at each other, neither one moving, neither one breathing. Colonel O'Hara stood by silently watching it all unfold. Mac had never told him what had happened on her journey north, except that she and the Roberts family had only just made it to safety. Meeting this Lt. Rabb explained a lot. Suddenly, a laugh filled the room. Harm had begun to laugh, a heartfelt, rich laugh.
Sarah looked at him quizzically, but then she too smiled. She gave one hiccuping giggle as she stepped forward into his arms. She clung to him as her tears soaked his crisp uniform. "I can't believe it. I thought you were dead," he whispered into her hair. "These last two years, I thought you were dead."
"How did you find me?" Mac finally asked.
Harm held up the ruined piece of paper. Mac studied it for a moment, and then she embraced him again; it was the letter Colonel O'Hara had sent her while Harm had been staying with her at Sweetfern. She held him, fearing that if she loosened her grip at all he would slip away again. Eventually, Colonel O'Hara thought it would be prudent to announce his presence, so he cleared his throat and Mac released Harm.
"Sarah, from what Lt. Rabb has just been telling, I think you had better tell him what happened to Bud and Harriet," the colonel suggested, and Mac launched into an account of what had happened after begin separated from Harm. That night, Brumby had caught up with them. They'd had just enough warning to get out of the house on time, but there was nothing they could do to try to save it. Brumby had been thrown from his horse that night, and that was the last Mac knew of him. She and the Roberts left Mr. Whitfield as his brother's farm and had then tried to travel south to Florida, but they were blocked by the moving armies. Travel was dangerous for them, but they decided that perhaps they should go north. They traveled by the underground railroad, and eventually made it to New York.
"Harriet and Bud stayed with us until the baby was born," Mac finished, "A beautiful baby girl named Sarah. They bought a town house and are living peacefully here in New York still."
Harm had remained silent throughout Mac's long narrative, but he never once let go of her hand. Colonel O'Hara noted the familiarity with which Harm was treating his niece, but he was not worried about it. In fact, he was quite pleased. This was the first time since her arrival in New York two years ago, that Mac shown any real passion. It seemed as if the shadow had finally been lifted from her eyes. "I'll leave you two to get caught up," the colonel said, and ignoring their protests for him to stay he left the room.
Now that they were alone Harm and Mac didn't know what to say to each other. The same pull existed between them, but neither knew the words to express it. They stood in silence for a long moment, just staring at each other. Finally, tired of inaction and afraid that he would never get another chance, Harm gather Mac into his arms again. He crushed her to him, and she wrapped her strong arms around him in turn. In that one moment, they knew without words that they were never going to be apart again, and with that knowledge, Harm lifted Mac's chin and kissed her for the first time.
