Part 4
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1840 Local
Mac slowly opened her eyes and stared at the curiously curved ceiling. Where was she? She'd been having the strangest dreams...
"Ahhh, you're awake."
Harm! Mac raised herself up on her elbows and turned towards him with a smile, "Hey, you'll never believe the weird dream I was having... " She stopped short when she saw the face of Major Rabb. Dropping back with a thump, she balled her hands into fists, "Oh God, when am I going to wake up?!"
Rabb looked at her in confusion, "I assure you, at the moment, you are awake, Miss... " He frowned a little, "I know we haven't been properly introduced, but would you please tell me your name? It will make our conversation somewhat easier." While he was speaking, he gestured to someone Mac couldn't see.
She stared up at the ceiling, absently noting the patched canvas. So she was in a wagon. It was amazing the amount of detail her mind was supplying about the inconsequential stuff. But who did you complain to when your head didn't seem to play by the rules? Usually her nightmares jumped and shifted almost continually - leaping from one frightening scenario to another; or worse, taking a pleasant memory and adding a gruesome twist. This... this continuity was disorienting. It seemed so real. What if she got lost in this dreamworld? What if she couldn't wake up? Oh God, what if she was awake and had lost her mind... like the McNair woman that Annabel had told her about? Feeling her heart begin to race, Mac glanced to her right and saw he was still watching her. Get a grip, Marine, hysteria wasn't going to help. What had he asked? Oh yes... "Sarah. Sarah MacKenzie."
"Thank you, Miss MacKenzie," he answered gravely, wondering a little at the play of emotions that had run across her face. "How are you feeling?"
Mac brought up a hand to rub her forehead, "Like I've tumbled through the Looking Glass." For some reason, talking to even a self-created facsimile of Harm was calming. She'd figure this out, one way or the other.
Rabb's eyebrows rose, "I beg your pardon?"
She dropped her hand and looked at him in irritation. This was no time for her mind to start being coy, "Through the Looking Glass... Alice in Wonderland? ... Lewis Carroll? Oh, c'mon, it's a classic. If I know about it, then you have to."
He looked even more perplexed, "Why on earth would that be so? We've never met." Mac's reply was interrupted by the arrival of a private carrying a bowl and eating utensils. Rabb took them and then turned towards her, "I had my cook make soup for you."
Mac sat up with alacrity and then squeezed her eyes shut, letting the dizziness pass. Her stomach growled loudly and she heard Rabb chuckle, "I was about to ask if you were hungry but I believe I have my answer." It sounded so like Harm and his teasing that she felt like crying. When would this nightmare end? Slowly, she opened her eyes and found Rabb watching her with concern. He handed the bowl to her, along with a spoon, and then waited silently as she began to eat. In short order, the bowl was emptied and he looked at her curiously, "When was the last time you ate?" She was a trifle thin for his tastes but didn't have that gaunt, haggard look he'd seen on so many during this war.
She looked back at him, feeling much better than she had, "If you mean a real meal, then it's been twenty-three hours and twelve minutes. May I have more soup?"
The Major stared at her. This was by far, the oddest and most intriguing woman he'd ever run across. He found himself wondering what she looked like before she'd cut her hair off and put on men's clothes. He cleared his throat, "Are you always so precise?"
"Yes," she answered shortly, deciding that it wasn't worth it to run her finger around the bowl. She looked up to see what her mind was going to conjure next. Maybe she should just play along and not worry about the details. He was staring at her with that oh-so-familiar, Rabb-in-the-headlights look. "Major?" He blinked and then flushed. Mac tried not to smile, where had she seen that before? "Major, you never answered my question. May I have some more soup?"
He looked a little startled and then cleared his throat again, "If you've no objections, I'd be honored if you would join me for dinner. I'd like to talk with you." He smiled when she nodded and then gestured vaguely in her direction, "I'm afraid we don't have any suitable women's attire but I could probably supply you with some cleaner clothes." He watched somewhat anxiously, not wanting to offend her again.
Mac ran a hand through her hair, "Would it be possible to get myself cleaned up as well? I feel like I'm carrying half the mountain with me."
"We're not in permanent camp, so the best I can offer is a bucket and wash basin. The stream we're next to isn't deep enough for bathing." Nor did he want to deal with the logistics of that, God knew what it would do to discipline.
Mac smiled at him, "The wash basin will be fine, thank you."
He found himself smiling back and coughed, "Very good. I'll have Sergeant Fitzgerald bring you the clothes as well and I will call on you in... " He paused delicately, letting her choose the time.
"Twenty minutes." She refrained from grinning at his expression. Apparently, the women he knew were more high-maintenance. She stared after him as he walked away. It was becoming more and more easy to believe that this was really happening. That was impossible, of course. Mac closed her eyes and massaged her temples. She knew the mind was capable of some amazing stuff but all this! A slight cough made her blink and she turned to see Sergeant Fitzgerald standing at the wagon. He must have been close at hand.
"For you, ma'am," he said somewhat gruffly, dropping a bundle of clothes in the wagon. "Private Mott will be by in a few minutes with a bucket and wash basin." Fitzgerald looked at Mac, "If you need anything else, I'll be within hearing, ma'am."
Mac inclined her head gravely, "Thank you, Sergeant." As he started to turn away, she thought of something else, "Excuse me, Sergeant?"
He turned back and looked at her, "Ma'am?"
"Am I under arrest?"
Fitzgerald chuckled, "No ma'am. The Major's a fairer man than that. You were defending yourself." He gave her a wink, "I've yet to see a better punch delivered to a more deserving chin. You took the wind right out of Ezra Caine's sails and saved me the trouble." With that, he sauntered off.
Mac watched him walk away and shook her head, Good sergeants seemed to be the same no matter where you found them. It was comforting. Twenty minutes later, she was waiting as Major Rabb returned.
He smiled when he saw her. There was something about this woman that attracted him, even if she was dressed like a man. She was sitting on the end of the wagon, swinging her legs back and forth, much like his youngest daughter, Molly, would do when she sat with him on the front porch on a summer's eve. He wasn't all that happy to note that Miss MacKenzie had also attracted the attentions of Lt. Franklin.
He approached quietly from behind and was inordinately pleased at the relieved look that flashed across Miss MacKenzie's face when she saw him. The Lieutenant failed to notice. He was busily extolling her beauty and comparing her to innumerable goddesses, flowers, oceans, stars and sunsets. Rabb waited until he was a mere five feet away before bellowing, "Lt. Franklin! When were you planning on reporting in?" He kept his face impassive as the Lieutenant did a credible imitation of a jack rabbit, leaping up in surprise. One look at the merriment on Miss MacKenzie's face was enough to make him concentrate entirely on Franklin. He couldn't afford to start laughing now.
"Major Rabb, sir! You startled me. I was on my way to see you, sir, when I ... " the Lieutenant's voice trailed off.
"Became distracted?" Rabb inquired dryly. "Have you seen to your men?" Franklin nodded vigorously. "Good, Lieutenant, I will expect your written report tonight. Dismissed." He watched the Lieutenant scurry off and then turned back to see Miss MacKenzie smiling at him.
"That was mean," Mac said, as he courteously offered her his arm. Putting a hand on his sleeve, she jumped lightly down from the wagon. Her smile grew wider, "Thank you for the rescue."
He gave a slight bow, "I believe Lt. Franklin will survive and it's my pleasure, madam." His expression turned mischievous, "I thought your patience might be wearing thin. I can't afford to lose any more men."
Blushing, Mac started to apologize and then stopped. She was doing it again. Treating this whole weird dream like it was real. She glanced up at the Major as they walked to his tent. It was fairly obvious why her subconscious had put Harm in the dream. Why it chose to do it this way was unclear and, well, frustrating. She could think of any number of more interesting and enjoyable scenarios involving Harm and herself. When she had a moment, someone's subconscious was going to get a talking to.
They reached his tent, Rabb pulled the flap open and gestured her in. The table that doubled as his writing desk had been covered with a cloth and the plates and silverware were laid out and waiting. There was even a few flowers in a bottle. He smiled to himself. His aide, Billy Douglas, and Fitzgerald never missed an opportunity to matchmake for him. It had been a hard two years since the fever had taken Cassie. Tommy and Billy had decided six months ago that it was time to let go of the past.
He moved ahead and held the chair for her, admiring her graceful figure as she sat. As soon as he had seated himself, Billy made his appearance. The young man must have been lurking just out of sight. "Your dinner, sir," he announced as he placed a platter of beef on the table. He was followed by Fitzgerald and Private Mott bringing a number of other dishes. They rotated in and out until Rabb was positive the table was going to collapse from the load. Fortunately, they stopped before that occurred.
"One moment, gentlemen," Rabb called, as the three men were about to disappear out of the tent. He smiled at Mac, "Allow me to introduce you to my men. You've met Sergeant Fitzgerald, this is Lt. William Douglas, my aide, and Pvt. Gabriel Mott. Gentlemen, Miss Sarah MacKenzie." The men nodded and then hurriedly excused themselves. Mac looked somewhat surprised at their abrupt departure and glanced over at the Major. Rabb grinned at her, "Despite appearances, they're hopeless romantics. They're hoping I'll sweep you off your feet."
Mac raised an eyebrow, "And not the other way around?"
Rabb stared at her for a moment before he caught her other meaning and laughed out loud. "Touche, Miss MacKenzie. You should know that Corporal Garrett is still nursing his injured... ummm, pride." He rose and picked up the carving knife and fork. Gesturing towards the beef, he smiled, "Shall we eat first and then talk?" She looked at him curiously for a moment and then nodded. As they worked their way through the meal, he kept the conversation light and inconsequential, telling her of his current post and some of the minor and somewhat humorous difficulties he had had to deal with. Several times he caught her staring at him in perplexity.
Finally, the meal drew to a close and he leaned back with a sigh. Sergeant Ames had outdone himself. Looking over at Miss MacKenzie, he smiled, "I think it's time you told me about yourself and how you came to be here."
Mac looked at him for a long moment. What happened when you told a figment of your imagination that he was a figment of your imagination? She didn't want him to fade away. He was the one familiar thing in this whole bizarre experience. Mac frowned slightly, there was also a nagging, growing tendril of fear. She was hearing things she was absolutely sure she had no knowledge of. How could she explain that, if all of this was coming from her own mind? What if... ? She ruthlessly quashed that line of thought. It wasn't possible... period.
Seeing that he was waiting for her to speak, Mac tilted her head to one side and gave a small sigh, "Would you like the plain, unvarnished truth?" He looked at her curiously and nodded. Mac took a deep breath, "My name is Sarah MacKenzie and I'm a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Marine Corps. I'm also an attorney and I serve with the Judge Advocate General's office in Falls Church, Virginia. I came to the Shenandoah Valley to interview a witness and on the way back, I was involved in an accident." She waved a hand, "I'm pretty sure that all of this is a very vivid dream of some sort. What I don't know is why my mind chose this time period. I've never had more than a cursory interest in the Civil War."
There. She'd said it. Now she waited to see what her subconscious would do next. Far from fading, Major Rabb's face was turning a deep red. When he spoke, his voice was icy, "You insult me, madam. I've offered you every courtesy and you repay me with this... this... fairy tale! Now, I suppose you'll traipse back to wherever you came from and laugh with others of your ilk about the joke you've played on the ignorant soldiers."
Mac straightened up, her own temper beginning to flare, "Listen, mister, if I could get out of this dream, I would!" She raised her eyes upward, "You hear me? I.. Have... Had... Enough!" Looking back down at him, she saw his anger was changing to alarm. She snorted, "Put a sock in it, Major. I'm the only one who gets to decide if I'm crazy. You don't exist."
Rabb blinked, put a sock in what? He opened his mouth to call in Fitzgerald and Douglas. Judging from her past performance, they'd probably have to keep this woman restrained until they could find a sanitorium. That thought made him pause. He'd been to one of those places once. They were hellholes. The inmates lived like and were treated like animals and worse. It didn't take much imagination to realize what would happen, what did happen, to a woman in there. A person as strong-willed as Miss MacKenzie wouldn't go meekly. She'd be dead within a week.
He rubbed his chin while he considered. None of her actions earlier had been those of a deranged person. Rather, they bespoke a good deal of training... And when she had ordered Barnett to stand aside, it had the tone and force of someone who was not only used to giving orders, but having them obeyed. He remembered at the beginning of this conflict, when the horror of war was still overshadowed by patriotic fervor and innocent enthusiasm, how some women actually formed companies and pretended to be soldiers. They wanted to do more than sewing or encouraging their men in saving the Union. The ladies had met in town squares and drilled religiously; at least, until the novelty had worn off. Most had gone by the wayside fairly early. Maybe Miss MacKenzie had carried it further than most...
Aside from her ludicrous story - and her reaction to his disbelief, he would have believed her completely sane. Fiery-tempered to be sure, but not crazy. Except for this insistence that he wasn't real. He stared at her, keeping his voice calm with an effort, "Why don't I exist?"
"Because the Civil War ended one hundred and thirty-eight years ago! None of this is real! It can't be!" Mac stood up and turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. It couldn't be real, it couldn't! She tensed as she heard him rise from the table.
"Look at me, Miss MacKenzie." Somehow, he had to get through to her. This had to stop or he would have to have her confined.
She turned around. "Stop calling me that." He stared at her in confusion. She looked down at the floor, "You always call me Mac... or Sarah. Stop sounding like I'm some sort of stranger. I can't stand it. Not on top of everything else." She dropped back in her chair and buried her face in her hands, "Oh god, maybe I am going crazy."
The despair in her voice tore at his heart. Maybe she had lost a loved one and this was how she was dealing with it. God knows after Cassie died, he thought the grief alone would kill him. He knelt down next to her, "Who am I supposed to be?"
She was quiet for so long, he thought she wasn't going to answer. Finally, her muffled voice said, "You are supposed to be U.S. Naval Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., also assigned to the Judge Advocate General's office in Falls Church. We've been colleagues and best friends for almost nine years. We've been... courting for the last year."
He raised an eyebrow and said mildly, "I must be an idiot, as well, if I waited eight years to court you." He thought he heard a watery chuckle.
"I've thought the same thing, on occasion." She raised her head and wiped at her eyes. Rabb offered her his handkerchief. Then he rose and pulled his chair over next to hers. Mac looked at him as he sat back down, "It really isn't all his fault. I've made my share of mistakes and missteps." She leaned back and looked up at the ceiling again, "I don't know what to do and I don't know how much more I can take." Closing her eyes, her voice dropped to a whisper, "Maybe this is supposed to kill me."
"Don't say that!" The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them. She looked at him in surprise. He raked a hand through his hair and thought for a moment. Clearing his throat, Rabb looked over at her, "Maybe we should look at this from a more objective viewpoint. You say you're an attorney?" He tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
He watched her begin to bristle but then she subsided, "Yes, I am." The tone of her voice told him to tread very carefully.
"Well, then, why don't we argue the case and see who can convince whom?" He took a chance and grinned, "I happen to think I exist."
Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1840 Local
Mac slowly opened her eyes and stared at the curiously curved ceiling. Where was she? She'd been having the strangest dreams...
"Ahhh, you're awake."
Harm! Mac raised herself up on her elbows and turned towards him with a smile, "Hey, you'll never believe the weird dream I was having... " She stopped short when she saw the face of Major Rabb. Dropping back with a thump, she balled her hands into fists, "Oh God, when am I going to wake up?!"
Rabb looked at her in confusion, "I assure you, at the moment, you are awake, Miss... " He frowned a little, "I know we haven't been properly introduced, but would you please tell me your name? It will make our conversation somewhat easier." While he was speaking, he gestured to someone Mac couldn't see.
She stared up at the ceiling, absently noting the patched canvas. So she was in a wagon. It was amazing the amount of detail her mind was supplying about the inconsequential stuff. But who did you complain to when your head didn't seem to play by the rules? Usually her nightmares jumped and shifted almost continually - leaping from one frightening scenario to another; or worse, taking a pleasant memory and adding a gruesome twist. This... this continuity was disorienting. It seemed so real. What if she got lost in this dreamworld? What if she couldn't wake up? Oh God, what if she was awake and had lost her mind... like the McNair woman that Annabel had told her about? Feeling her heart begin to race, Mac glanced to her right and saw he was still watching her. Get a grip, Marine, hysteria wasn't going to help. What had he asked? Oh yes... "Sarah. Sarah MacKenzie."
"Thank you, Miss MacKenzie," he answered gravely, wondering a little at the play of emotions that had run across her face. "How are you feeling?"
Mac brought up a hand to rub her forehead, "Like I've tumbled through the Looking Glass." For some reason, talking to even a self-created facsimile of Harm was calming. She'd figure this out, one way or the other.
Rabb's eyebrows rose, "I beg your pardon?"
She dropped her hand and looked at him in irritation. This was no time for her mind to start being coy, "Through the Looking Glass... Alice in Wonderland? ... Lewis Carroll? Oh, c'mon, it's a classic. If I know about it, then you have to."
He looked even more perplexed, "Why on earth would that be so? We've never met." Mac's reply was interrupted by the arrival of a private carrying a bowl and eating utensils. Rabb took them and then turned towards her, "I had my cook make soup for you."
Mac sat up with alacrity and then squeezed her eyes shut, letting the dizziness pass. Her stomach growled loudly and she heard Rabb chuckle, "I was about to ask if you were hungry but I believe I have my answer." It sounded so like Harm and his teasing that she felt like crying. When would this nightmare end? Slowly, she opened her eyes and found Rabb watching her with concern. He handed the bowl to her, along with a spoon, and then waited silently as she began to eat. In short order, the bowl was emptied and he looked at her curiously, "When was the last time you ate?" She was a trifle thin for his tastes but didn't have that gaunt, haggard look he'd seen on so many during this war.
She looked back at him, feeling much better than she had, "If you mean a real meal, then it's been twenty-three hours and twelve minutes. May I have more soup?"
The Major stared at her. This was by far, the oddest and most intriguing woman he'd ever run across. He found himself wondering what she looked like before she'd cut her hair off and put on men's clothes. He cleared his throat, "Are you always so precise?"
"Yes," she answered shortly, deciding that it wasn't worth it to run her finger around the bowl. She looked up to see what her mind was going to conjure next. Maybe she should just play along and not worry about the details. He was staring at her with that oh-so-familiar, Rabb-in-the-headlights look. "Major?" He blinked and then flushed. Mac tried not to smile, where had she seen that before? "Major, you never answered my question. May I have some more soup?"
He looked a little startled and then cleared his throat again, "If you've no objections, I'd be honored if you would join me for dinner. I'd like to talk with you." He smiled when she nodded and then gestured vaguely in her direction, "I'm afraid we don't have any suitable women's attire but I could probably supply you with some cleaner clothes." He watched somewhat anxiously, not wanting to offend her again.
Mac ran a hand through her hair, "Would it be possible to get myself cleaned up as well? I feel like I'm carrying half the mountain with me."
"We're not in permanent camp, so the best I can offer is a bucket and wash basin. The stream we're next to isn't deep enough for bathing." Nor did he want to deal with the logistics of that, God knew what it would do to discipline.
Mac smiled at him, "The wash basin will be fine, thank you."
He found himself smiling back and coughed, "Very good. I'll have Sergeant Fitzgerald bring you the clothes as well and I will call on you in... " He paused delicately, letting her choose the time.
"Twenty minutes." She refrained from grinning at his expression. Apparently, the women he knew were more high-maintenance. She stared after him as he walked away. It was becoming more and more easy to believe that this was really happening. That was impossible, of course. Mac closed her eyes and massaged her temples. She knew the mind was capable of some amazing stuff but all this! A slight cough made her blink and she turned to see Sergeant Fitzgerald standing at the wagon. He must have been close at hand.
"For you, ma'am," he said somewhat gruffly, dropping a bundle of clothes in the wagon. "Private Mott will be by in a few minutes with a bucket and wash basin." Fitzgerald looked at Mac, "If you need anything else, I'll be within hearing, ma'am."
Mac inclined her head gravely, "Thank you, Sergeant." As he started to turn away, she thought of something else, "Excuse me, Sergeant?"
He turned back and looked at her, "Ma'am?"
"Am I under arrest?"
Fitzgerald chuckled, "No ma'am. The Major's a fairer man than that. You were defending yourself." He gave her a wink, "I've yet to see a better punch delivered to a more deserving chin. You took the wind right out of Ezra Caine's sails and saved me the trouble." With that, he sauntered off.
Mac watched him walk away and shook her head, Good sergeants seemed to be the same no matter where you found them. It was comforting. Twenty minutes later, she was waiting as Major Rabb returned.
He smiled when he saw her. There was something about this woman that attracted him, even if she was dressed like a man. She was sitting on the end of the wagon, swinging her legs back and forth, much like his youngest daughter, Molly, would do when she sat with him on the front porch on a summer's eve. He wasn't all that happy to note that Miss MacKenzie had also attracted the attentions of Lt. Franklin.
He approached quietly from behind and was inordinately pleased at the relieved look that flashed across Miss MacKenzie's face when she saw him. The Lieutenant failed to notice. He was busily extolling her beauty and comparing her to innumerable goddesses, flowers, oceans, stars and sunsets. Rabb waited until he was a mere five feet away before bellowing, "Lt. Franklin! When were you planning on reporting in?" He kept his face impassive as the Lieutenant did a credible imitation of a jack rabbit, leaping up in surprise. One look at the merriment on Miss MacKenzie's face was enough to make him concentrate entirely on Franklin. He couldn't afford to start laughing now.
"Major Rabb, sir! You startled me. I was on my way to see you, sir, when I ... " the Lieutenant's voice trailed off.
"Became distracted?" Rabb inquired dryly. "Have you seen to your men?" Franklin nodded vigorously. "Good, Lieutenant, I will expect your written report tonight. Dismissed." He watched the Lieutenant scurry off and then turned back to see Miss MacKenzie smiling at him.
"That was mean," Mac said, as he courteously offered her his arm. Putting a hand on his sleeve, she jumped lightly down from the wagon. Her smile grew wider, "Thank you for the rescue."
He gave a slight bow, "I believe Lt. Franklin will survive and it's my pleasure, madam." His expression turned mischievous, "I thought your patience might be wearing thin. I can't afford to lose any more men."
Blushing, Mac started to apologize and then stopped. She was doing it again. Treating this whole weird dream like it was real. She glanced up at the Major as they walked to his tent. It was fairly obvious why her subconscious had put Harm in the dream. Why it chose to do it this way was unclear and, well, frustrating. She could think of any number of more interesting and enjoyable scenarios involving Harm and herself. When she had a moment, someone's subconscious was going to get a talking to.
They reached his tent, Rabb pulled the flap open and gestured her in. The table that doubled as his writing desk had been covered with a cloth and the plates and silverware were laid out and waiting. There was even a few flowers in a bottle. He smiled to himself. His aide, Billy Douglas, and Fitzgerald never missed an opportunity to matchmake for him. It had been a hard two years since the fever had taken Cassie. Tommy and Billy had decided six months ago that it was time to let go of the past.
He moved ahead and held the chair for her, admiring her graceful figure as she sat. As soon as he had seated himself, Billy made his appearance. The young man must have been lurking just out of sight. "Your dinner, sir," he announced as he placed a platter of beef on the table. He was followed by Fitzgerald and Private Mott bringing a number of other dishes. They rotated in and out until Rabb was positive the table was going to collapse from the load. Fortunately, they stopped before that occurred.
"One moment, gentlemen," Rabb called, as the three men were about to disappear out of the tent. He smiled at Mac, "Allow me to introduce you to my men. You've met Sergeant Fitzgerald, this is Lt. William Douglas, my aide, and Pvt. Gabriel Mott. Gentlemen, Miss Sarah MacKenzie." The men nodded and then hurriedly excused themselves. Mac looked somewhat surprised at their abrupt departure and glanced over at the Major. Rabb grinned at her, "Despite appearances, they're hopeless romantics. They're hoping I'll sweep you off your feet."
Mac raised an eyebrow, "And not the other way around?"
Rabb stared at her for a moment before he caught her other meaning and laughed out loud. "Touche, Miss MacKenzie. You should know that Corporal Garrett is still nursing his injured... ummm, pride." He rose and picked up the carving knife and fork. Gesturing towards the beef, he smiled, "Shall we eat first and then talk?" She looked at him curiously for a moment and then nodded. As they worked their way through the meal, he kept the conversation light and inconsequential, telling her of his current post and some of the minor and somewhat humorous difficulties he had had to deal with. Several times he caught her staring at him in perplexity.
Finally, the meal drew to a close and he leaned back with a sigh. Sergeant Ames had outdone himself. Looking over at Miss MacKenzie, he smiled, "I think it's time you told me about yourself and how you came to be here."
Mac looked at him for a long moment. What happened when you told a figment of your imagination that he was a figment of your imagination? She didn't want him to fade away. He was the one familiar thing in this whole bizarre experience. Mac frowned slightly, there was also a nagging, growing tendril of fear. She was hearing things she was absolutely sure she had no knowledge of. How could she explain that, if all of this was coming from her own mind? What if... ? She ruthlessly quashed that line of thought. It wasn't possible... period.
Seeing that he was waiting for her to speak, Mac tilted her head to one side and gave a small sigh, "Would you like the plain, unvarnished truth?" He looked at her curiously and nodded. Mac took a deep breath, "My name is Sarah MacKenzie and I'm a Lieutenant Colonel in the United States Marine Corps. I'm also an attorney and I serve with the Judge Advocate General's office in Falls Church, Virginia. I came to the Shenandoah Valley to interview a witness and on the way back, I was involved in an accident." She waved a hand, "I'm pretty sure that all of this is a very vivid dream of some sort. What I don't know is why my mind chose this time period. I've never had more than a cursory interest in the Civil War."
There. She'd said it. Now she waited to see what her subconscious would do next. Far from fading, Major Rabb's face was turning a deep red. When he spoke, his voice was icy, "You insult me, madam. I've offered you every courtesy and you repay me with this... this... fairy tale! Now, I suppose you'll traipse back to wherever you came from and laugh with others of your ilk about the joke you've played on the ignorant soldiers."
Mac straightened up, her own temper beginning to flare, "Listen, mister, if I could get out of this dream, I would!" She raised her eyes upward, "You hear me? I.. Have... Had... Enough!" Looking back down at him, she saw his anger was changing to alarm. She snorted, "Put a sock in it, Major. I'm the only one who gets to decide if I'm crazy. You don't exist."
Rabb blinked, put a sock in what? He opened his mouth to call in Fitzgerald and Douglas. Judging from her past performance, they'd probably have to keep this woman restrained until they could find a sanitorium. That thought made him pause. He'd been to one of those places once. They were hellholes. The inmates lived like and were treated like animals and worse. It didn't take much imagination to realize what would happen, what did happen, to a woman in there. A person as strong-willed as Miss MacKenzie wouldn't go meekly. She'd be dead within a week.
He rubbed his chin while he considered. None of her actions earlier had been those of a deranged person. Rather, they bespoke a good deal of training... And when she had ordered Barnett to stand aside, it had the tone and force of someone who was not only used to giving orders, but having them obeyed. He remembered at the beginning of this conflict, when the horror of war was still overshadowed by patriotic fervor and innocent enthusiasm, how some women actually formed companies and pretended to be soldiers. They wanted to do more than sewing or encouraging their men in saving the Union. The ladies had met in town squares and drilled religiously; at least, until the novelty had worn off. Most had gone by the wayside fairly early. Maybe Miss MacKenzie had carried it further than most...
Aside from her ludicrous story - and her reaction to his disbelief, he would have believed her completely sane. Fiery-tempered to be sure, but not crazy. Except for this insistence that he wasn't real. He stared at her, keeping his voice calm with an effort, "Why don't I exist?"
"Because the Civil War ended one hundred and thirty-eight years ago! None of this is real! It can't be!" Mac stood up and turned away from him, wrapping her arms around herself. It couldn't be real, it couldn't! She tensed as she heard him rise from the table.
"Look at me, Miss MacKenzie." Somehow, he had to get through to her. This had to stop or he would have to have her confined.
She turned around. "Stop calling me that." He stared at her in confusion. She looked down at the floor, "You always call me Mac... or Sarah. Stop sounding like I'm some sort of stranger. I can't stand it. Not on top of everything else." She dropped back in her chair and buried her face in her hands, "Oh god, maybe I am going crazy."
The despair in her voice tore at his heart. Maybe she had lost a loved one and this was how she was dealing with it. God knows after Cassie died, he thought the grief alone would kill him. He knelt down next to her, "Who am I supposed to be?"
She was quiet for so long, he thought she wasn't going to answer. Finally, her muffled voice said, "You are supposed to be U.S. Naval Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., also assigned to the Judge Advocate General's office in Falls Church. We've been colleagues and best friends for almost nine years. We've been... courting for the last year."
He raised an eyebrow and said mildly, "I must be an idiot, as well, if I waited eight years to court you." He thought he heard a watery chuckle.
"I've thought the same thing, on occasion." She raised her head and wiped at her eyes. Rabb offered her his handkerchief. Then he rose and pulled his chair over next to hers. Mac looked at him as he sat back down, "It really isn't all his fault. I've made my share of mistakes and missteps." She leaned back and looked up at the ceiling again, "I don't know what to do and I don't know how much more I can take." Closing her eyes, her voice dropped to a whisper, "Maybe this is supposed to kill me."
"Don't say that!" The words were out of his mouth before he could censor them. She looked at him in surprise. He raked a hand through his hair and thought for a moment. Clearing his throat, Rabb looked over at her, "Maybe we should look at this from a more objective viewpoint. You say you're an attorney?" He tried to keep the skepticism out of his voice.
He watched her begin to bristle but then she subsided, "Yes, I am." The tone of her voice told him to tread very carefully.
"Well, then, why don't we argue the case and see who can convince whom?" He took a chance and grinned, "I happen to think I exist."