Epilogue, Part 2
"Gunny! You must be joking," Harm looked at Walters incredulously.
The Gunnery Sergeant shook his head, "No sir, begging your pardon. It's the only explanation that covers all the facts as we know them. Does your theory do that?"
"Well... no, but I haven't worked out all the details yet. C'mon Gunny, anything I come up with is bound to be more plausible than that science fiction story they're trying to peddle us." Harm folded his arms. This was ridiculous. Gunny Walters was the last man he would have expected to buy into this fairy tale.
Gunny folded his arms as well. He could out-stubborn any Squid any time, any place. Tilting his head, he gazed at the Commander, "Tell you what, sir, if you can explain one small fact to me, I'll help you with the Colonel."
Harm eyed the big man, "And if I can't?"
"Then you keep an open mind and listen to what the Colonel and Miz Annabel have to say."
Harm scowled. Walters seemed entirely too smug. Dammit, he was beginning to think unfettered arrogance was a prerequisite for becoming a Marine. He threw up his hands, "Fine! What small fact do you need explained?"
Gunny fought to keep the grin off his face, "If your theory is correct and it's impossible that the Colonel was gone for more than a week, then how did she manage to grow about an inch and a half of hair?"
"What?" Harm stared at Walters.
"The Colonel's a squared-away Marine, sir. She keeps her hair above her collar. Now it's almost to her shoulders. I don't think it's possible for hair to grow that much in just a week."
"How the hell did you manage to notice that?" Harm had a look of disbelief on his face. For the life of him, he couldn't remember if Mac's hair was longer or not. He'd been way too concerned about the rest of her.
Gunny shrugged his shoulders, "I'm in charge of the Marine security detachment at JAG Headquarters, sir. It's second nature for me to notice those types of things." He stood and watched the Commander try to find a way out of his dilemma. He wasn't the type that made many mistakes nor did he enjoy admitting them. On the other hand, he had too much integrity not to acknowledge his errors. At least professionally, anyway, Gunny had no idea how he handled them in his personal life.
*********
Mac opened her eyes again as the door began to open. She couldn't honestly say if she wished it were Harm or not. He had an absolute talent for ticking her off. He also brightened her day just by being in the same room and, dear god, she'd missed him horribly these last few months.
Annabel walked in and smiled when she saw Mac was looking at her, "Sarah, my dear, you don't know how glad I am to see you. Anthony Wade and I have been terribly worried ever since we realized what had happened." She walked up to the side of the bed, "Commander Rabb said you weren't feeling well, so I won't stay long."
Mac eyed her warily, Harm's disbelief had shaken her more than she thought, "Do you know where I've been?"
Annabel patted her arm, "Of course I do, dear. It took a little research to find out exactly when but I did finally figure it out. I'm so sorry you had to go through such an ordeal. It must have been frightening to find yourself in that time period."
The sense of relief Mac felt was surprising, "You believe me?"
"Certainly," Annabel blinked and then frowned slightly, "Your Commander Rabb did not, I take it?"
"No," Mac stared down at her hands, "I don't blame him, really. I was there and half the time I didn't believe it either."
"Men can be such skeptics. He'll come around, dear, he has no choice." Annabel smiled at the questioning look on Mac's face, "Sarah, what happened is true and no matter how he tries to evade, explain or deny; it's still the truth." She paused for a moment, "If it's any consolation, Dubby... your Gunnery Sergeant Walters, believes. I hope you won't mind sharing some of your experiences with him. He was fascinated by the concept."
"Gunny's a good man." Mac's slight smile was quickly replaced by a somewhat anxious look, "Annabel, your necklace - I'm not sure where it is right now. I know I had it last night... "
"I know, dear, I saw it. I imagine the hospital has it somewhere safe. They're usually pretty good about that sort of thing. I'll check with Timmy Rollins," Annabel gave Mac's arm an affectionate squeeze. "You rest for a bit and when you're feeling a little better, we'll discuss whatever you like."
Friday Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1610 Local
Harm poked his head in the room and smiled hopefully when he saw Mac was awake. Shortly after his talk with the Gunny this morning, Dr. Bradley had come by to tell him that there were no odd drugs in Mac's system. They'd gone ahead and upped her pain medication and as a result, she'd been asleep most of the day. She was also stuck in the hospital until at least Sunday, a fact that Harm was pretty sure was going to make her crazy. Mac hated hospitals.
With not much else to do while she slept, he'd put in a call to his grandmother to find out what he could about Josiah Rabb. Her confirmation of what Mac had said had floored him. The enormity of what had happened to Mac hit him then and he had cringed a little thinking about how he'd dismissed the whole thing in front of her. Harm made a firm resolution to himself to do whatever he had to to get back into her good graces. Fortunately, his Marine was fairly predictable about one thing...
He held out a bag, "Truce? I brought food."
Mac smiled back, her sleepiness dissipating rapidly at the prospect of eating something besides hospital fare. "Truce. Get in here, Navy."
Her stomach growled as he walked up to the bed and he grinned, "I was about to ask if you were hungry but I believe I have my answer." He stopped short when she froze, a shocked expression on her face. He put his hand over hers, surprised to find that it was clenched tightly in a fist, "Mac, what's wrong?"
She took a deep breath, a haunted look in her eyes, "I'm sorry. What you said just then threw me a bit. Josiah... " She stopped, reluctant to continue in the face of his disbelief.
Harm stared at her, kicking himself for causing this reticence. Letting go of her hand, he brushed the back of his fingers down the side of her face and then continued down, trailing through her hair. Gunny had been right, it was a helluva lot longer than was possible for a week. Sighing, he settled himself on the side of her bed and looked down at the floor. She watched him with wide eyes. "Mac... Sarah, I just want to say that I... what I mean is... oh hell... I'm sorry. I should have known you and Annabel were telling me the truth. I know it's a little late, but I believe now." He couldn't help the shudder that ran through him. Accepting their story meant that what Annabel had read to him earlier was true also, he'd come close to losing her in the past.
Mac's heart gave a painful little thump at the bleak look on Harm's face. Silently, she opened her arms and he gratefully slid into her embrace. Quietly, they clung to one another, each drawing strength from the other. Somewhere in the back of Harm's mind, a little voice was telling him they couldn't stay like this forever but he was quite willing to ignore it. So many things could have gone wrong - had gone wrong. She might have been easily died back then... Moments later, a loud grumble made him pull back from her with a chuckle, "Your stomach has no sense of romance."
Mac couldn't help smiling, "Sure it does. It just happens to be in love with food." She leaned back against the pillows and raised an eyebrow, "So? What did you bring me?"
Sunday Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0925 Local
Harm wheeled Mac down to the curb, trailed by Annabel and Anthony Wade. Gunny had gone to bring the car around. She couldn't help wrinkling her nose a bit. After 60 hours or so in the hospital, the outside air was definitely welcome but it was surprising how pervasive the smell of auto exhaust was. It was noisier too, more than she'd become accustomed to in the Valley. Harrisonburg wasn't that big a town, what was D.C. going to be like?
She watched people hurrying to and from the parking lot, many were talking on their cellphones while they walked. Although she had missed the conveniences of the twenty-first century, she'd forgotten about the constant intrusion of technology. Behind her, she could hear Harm and Anthony Wade amicably discussing the various aspects of military life. Annabel moved up alongside her and dropped a hand on her shoulder. Leaning down slightly, she said in a soft voice, "You'll have to give yourself time to adjust to all this again." Mac nodded silently. She hadn't had that much time to talk to Annabel about Avis, Corinna and the rest. She did learn from the older woman that Avis had lived well into her eighties, dying in 1927. She also told Mac about a journal Avis had kept. Mac had already made plans with Annabel to come back and visit after she had recovered.
It wasn't too long before Gunny pulled up. Hopping out of the car, he moved around to the curb to give Harm a hand with Mac. The two men helped her upright and then held on while she got her balance. Anthony Wade hovered nearby, holding the crutches Mac would be taking home with her.
Gunny looked at Harm and then Mac, "You'll be all right while I get the door, won't you Colonel?"
Mac stared at him for a moment before nodding, it still seemed odd to have someone refer to her by rank. Although she'd always defined herself by the Marine Corps, the last three months had been spent in a place where it didn't matter. She'd come to realize that in the back of her mind, she'd felt that she always needed that qualifier in order to have an identity. That if people didn't hear 'Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie, USMC', then their first reaction would be 'Sarah who?' Avis and Josiah had proved her wrong.
In short order, Harm maneuvered Mac into the back seat of the government sedan. Anthony Wade leaned in to hand her the crutches and give her a farewell hug. Annabel was next, "You take care, Sarah, and don't forget to call if you feel the need to talk." She patted Mac on the shoulder and then rummaged in her purse, "I almost forgot." Annabel pulled out a small, wrapped box and gave to it to Mac, "A little present from Anthony Wade and I. I think you'll like it."
Mac thanked her and a few minutes later, she, Harm and Gunny were on their way. She stretched out as best she could across the seat and leaned back. The pain medication kept her leg down to a dull throb but it also made her drowsy. By the time Gunny turned on to the Interstate, she was asleep.
Gunny glanced in the rearview mirror and then looked over at Harm, "She's out, sir."
Looking back, Harm nodded, "With a little luck, she'll stay like that until we reach DC." He looked over at Gunny, "What happened is going to have to stay between the three of us. We'll have take a little creative license with any explanations." Mac had told them the whole story yesterday afternoon. It was a calm recitation of facts and even though she'd barely touched on some of the more harrowing incidents, both men knew her well enough to hear what wasn't said. Her guardian angels had been working overtime.
Walters looked somewhat affronted, "Of course, sir. I don't want Colonel MacKenzie to get hauled off to the psych ward after everything else she's been through." He paused for a moment, "How did she feel about it?"
Harm grunted, "About how you'd expect, she doesn't want to lie to the Admiral. On the other hand, she's well aware that the truth is unbelievable. I think we can go with the nutty survivalists holding her."
Gunny raised an eyebrow, "Won't we have to produce some bodies, sir? Admiral Chegwidden will be out for blood."
"Hopefully, he'll accept that the local law enforcement people are looking into it." Harm shrugged and then grinned, "After we got Mac clear, I didn't pay too much attention to which way the bad guys ran, did you?"
"No sir," Walters smiled back.
Sunday Mac's Apartment Georgetown 1440 Local
Mac sat on the couch and looked around her apartment. It felt strange. She was alone for the moment, Gunny Walters was taking Harm to his place so he could get his car and an overnight bag. He had flatly refused to consider leaving her by herself overnight. She couldn't decide how she felt about it. Numb, mostly. Part of it was the pain medication making her feel stupid and lethargic. That was something that was going to have to stop. There was an insidious attraction in feeling so detached and she had no intention of going down that road. She wasn't really sure about the rest of it. Perhaps it was just the natural letdown after achieving the improbable.
Restless now, she scanned the apartment again. Harm wanted her to stay put until he got back, obviously convinced that she'd somehow re-injure herself if he wasn't there to hover. Mac frowned, Harm's protective streak was endearing... and smothering. If she didn't set some ground rules right now, he'd have her wrapped in cotton and safely stashed until he decided it was completely safe for her to get on with her life. She snorted to herself, if that were the case, she might never get out of this apartment again. Making up her mind, Mac leaned over and snagged the crutches from where they rested against the side of the couch. Carefully, she levered herself upright and then stood for a moment, undecided. Now what? She shook her head and chuckled to herself, talk about lack of mission planning. She hadn't thought any further about her mini-rebellion than making the effort to stand up.
The kitchen. She would make herself a cup of tea and after that, take a quick tour of the apartment. Cautiously, she headed for the kitchen. It had been years since she had to maneuver around on crutches. Same damn leg, too. Mac stopped in the doorway and looked in. The smallness of room had never caught her attention before. Now, however, she couldn't help comparing it to what Avis' was like. Granted, she wasn't exactly Miss Suzy Homemaker, but she'd developed a liking for large, airy kitchens. She moved over to the stove and amused herself for a moment, turning the burners off and on. Much easier than a wood-burning stove, Avis would have been thrilled. There was an unexpected prick of tears at the thought and she rubbed her eyes. Stop it, she told herself. There would be time enough to feel the loss later when she met up with Annabel and got a look at the journal. Pulling out a mug, she filled it with water and popped it in the microwave to heat up. After it dinged, she pulled out the now steaming water and dropped in the teabag. Getting the tea to the dining room table required abandoning a crutch but she managed to make it to a chair without slopping too badly.
Mac looked down at the cup as she absently stirred the steaming liquid. It had taken less than five minutes to produce the tea. Convenient, quick and she somehow doubted that Avis or Corinna would think much of it. They both enjoyed the time it took to boil the water and brew the tea. It was a legitimate break in the day to sit, relax, contemplate and converse. Some things didn't need to be hurried.
Finishing up her tea, Mac gazed around the apartment. She stopped when she saw the small, wrapped package on the table by the door. Annabel's present. She'd forgotten about it. Harm or Gunny must have put it there once they got her to the couch. Standing up, she headed over to retrieve the package. One crutch was more convenient to get around on, but two were definitely less tiring. Grabbing the box, she went back to the couch and eased herself back down. Panting a little, Mac grimaced. If this were any indication, she was going to have fun getting back in shape to pass her physical. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of getting her wind back. Strength-wise, she thought she was actually in better shape than before her 'trip'. The nineteenth century was a more physical time. During the six weeks with Josiah and his command, she'd marched with the men rather than ride in a wagon. That she could keep up had been a source of surprise and later a point of pride with the regiment: 'Our mascot is tougher than your mascot.'
While she was with Avis, once she had recovered, the farm chores seemed never-ending. There was wood to chop, stock to feed, stalls to muck out, gardens to hoe, crops to harvest. Mac absently glanced at her hands, they were hard and callused. She'd become pretty handy with an axe, hoe and scythe. She froze for a second, Sheridan! Mac ran a hand through her hair as she looked around the room. Dammit, had she, Avis, Deacon and his family done all that work only to have it burned by Yankee soldiers? Had they taken the livestock? The thought of Avis' sturdy, cheerful little Morgan horses being confiscated for use in the Union Army was awful. Horses were killed with alarming frequency, in many of the same appalling ways as the men. In some ways, it was more horrible. The men, at least, understood what was happening. Mac closed her eyes, why the hell did she have to start that chain of thought? Opening them again, she glanced over at her phone. Would Annabel know?
She looked down at the package that she was now gripping tightly. Sighing a little, she slowly began undoing the wrapping. A few minutes later, she was looking at a handful of cassette tapes. Picking up one, she squinted at the spidery writing and inhaled sharply in surprise. It was entitled 'Avis Payne Journal #1'. She quickly rifled through the rest. There were six, all told. Tucked in at the end was a small card. Mac pulled it out and began to read:
"Dear Sarah,
I know you plan to visit and that you were hoping to read Avis' journal. However, I imagine it might be a while before you can get back this way. (Assuming your Commander Rabb doesn't protest too vehemently. Coming back here probably has him worrying about a repeat performance.) At the same time, I can also imagine that you're worried over those you left behind. With that in mind, Anthony Wade and I have begun these tapes. We take turns reading out loud, Anthony Wade has gotten quite good at deciphering Avis' handwriting. When you actually read the journal, you'll see what I mean. Anyway, dear, I hope this helps ease the readjustment and gives you some closure. Don't forget to give yourself time to grieve. Even though the circumstances were peculiar, it doesn't change the sense of loss. Take care of yourself, I look forward to hearing about my great-grandmother. She was somewhat of a legend in the family.
Love, Annabel"
Wiping her eyes, Mac looked again at the tapes. What a wonderfully kind thing for Annabel and Anthony Wade to do. It certainly explained their absence during her hospital stay. She picked up the first tape and hauled herself upright, hopping a little as she got the crutch situated. Making her way over to the stereo, she popped in the tape and hit Play. There were a few seconds of tape hiss and a rustling noise, then Annabel's voice came over the speakers, "Is that thing working, Anthony Wade? You sure? I don't want to read for thirty minutes and find out it was for nothing." Mac smiled to herself as she listened to a low-pitched rumbling that had to be Anthony Wade. There was a brief pause and then Annabel came back on, "The Journal of Avis Harper Payne Simpson, late August, 1864. ... oh hush, she married him six months later... well, she's MY great-grandmother... yes, I will be that way...fine... here we go: 'Deacon Turner brought me a guest today. He said I would enjoy the mystery. Enjoy might be too strong a word - Sarah is an unusual woman in unusual circumstances... ' "
Mac leaned against the shelves and listened. Closing her eyes, it wasn't hard to imagine Avis' voice speaking the words. She wasn't sure when she started crying or, for that matter, when Harm reappeared. She found herself in his arms, his voice making soothing noises. Half turning, Mac buried herself in his chest, hanging on to his shirtfront.
Harm held on and let her cry. It always amazed him how quietly she did it. He'd brought it up once and Mac had gotten that hooded look that told him this was yet another by-product of her childhood. Finally, she seemed to wind down and he maneuvered them both to the couch. Settling down next to her, he stretched out an arm and snagged a box of tissues off the endtable. Silently, he handed her the box and waited. When she'd finished dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose, he quietly ventured, "Do you want to talk about it?" For the life of him, he wasn't quite sure what had her so upset. Mac didn't cry easily. He would have understood if it had happened right after her return. Just like the 'Archangel' case, the sudden transition from peril to safety meant the relief from stress had to come out somehow.
Mac plucked a few more tissues from the box while she considered his question. She did need to talk about it, but with who? Try as he might, Harm could only guess how all this affected her. How could he understand that she'd grown close to these people from another era and missed them terribly? That she missed Avis' snug little house with its rose gardens and the smell of fresh baked bread mingling with woodsmoke. Missed the conversations, chess games and singing while you worked. She went still for a moment as the realization struck. She was homesick.
She turned the thought over in her mind and examined it. The feeling was certainly novel. There was no way in hell any of the places she'd lived during her childhood had ever felt like home. Homes were supposed to be safe havens and there was nothing safe about the MacKenzie household. However, her father did teach her how to create her own little sanctuary - all it took was alcohol. It took both her parents to drive home the lesson that trusting other people was a sure way to pain and disappointment.
She'd given up the alcohol but not the instinct to insulate herself, at least until she had slammed headfirst into DC and Harmon Rabb, Jr. It had been a long and sometimes frightening process. She'd spent years perfecting her defenses and it hadn't been easy, allowing anyone in. Harm had been one of the first and was probably the furthest past the walls. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, Avis was... had been a close second. There'd been no point in trying to hide anything from someone with her sensitivity and, as a result, Mac had been more open with the young woman in those short six weeks than she had ever allowed herself before. Not that she had taken to babbling, of course, but the experience had been illuminating. She'd finally gotten a taste of what family life could be like and she found herself envying what Avis had had.
"Mac?" Harm looked at her worriedly. He'd been exasperated to find her up when he returned. That had changed to concern when he realized she was crying. What was wrong now? She was home and safe. He shot a quick glance at her leg. He didn't think she'd hurt herself again. Mac's usual reaction to pain - physical, anyway - was anger. She would have been swearing, not crying. The stereo was on but volume was too low for him to tell what was playing. Mac had been practically leaning against a speaker and he had been focused on her.
She had been staring at him for what seemed like the longest time but Harm could tell she wasn't really seeing him. Taking a deep breath, he moved in closer and tried a different tack, "Mac, what was Josiah Rabb like?"
Mac blinked, looking startled, "What?"
"Josiah Rabb," Harm repeated patiently, "What was he like?"
She couldn't help smiling, "In a lot of ways, he was just like you."
Harm smiled back and opened his arms, "Why don't you settle in here and tell me all about him?"
"Gunny! You must be joking," Harm looked at Walters incredulously.
The Gunnery Sergeant shook his head, "No sir, begging your pardon. It's the only explanation that covers all the facts as we know them. Does your theory do that?"
"Well... no, but I haven't worked out all the details yet. C'mon Gunny, anything I come up with is bound to be more plausible than that science fiction story they're trying to peddle us." Harm folded his arms. This was ridiculous. Gunny Walters was the last man he would have expected to buy into this fairy tale.
Gunny folded his arms as well. He could out-stubborn any Squid any time, any place. Tilting his head, he gazed at the Commander, "Tell you what, sir, if you can explain one small fact to me, I'll help you with the Colonel."
Harm eyed the big man, "And if I can't?"
"Then you keep an open mind and listen to what the Colonel and Miz Annabel have to say."
Harm scowled. Walters seemed entirely too smug. Dammit, he was beginning to think unfettered arrogance was a prerequisite for becoming a Marine. He threw up his hands, "Fine! What small fact do you need explained?"
Gunny fought to keep the grin off his face, "If your theory is correct and it's impossible that the Colonel was gone for more than a week, then how did she manage to grow about an inch and a half of hair?"
"What?" Harm stared at Walters.
"The Colonel's a squared-away Marine, sir. She keeps her hair above her collar. Now it's almost to her shoulders. I don't think it's possible for hair to grow that much in just a week."
"How the hell did you manage to notice that?" Harm had a look of disbelief on his face. For the life of him, he couldn't remember if Mac's hair was longer or not. He'd been way too concerned about the rest of her.
Gunny shrugged his shoulders, "I'm in charge of the Marine security detachment at JAG Headquarters, sir. It's second nature for me to notice those types of things." He stood and watched the Commander try to find a way out of his dilemma. He wasn't the type that made many mistakes nor did he enjoy admitting them. On the other hand, he had too much integrity not to acknowledge his errors. At least professionally, anyway, Gunny had no idea how he handled them in his personal life.
*********
Mac opened her eyes again as the door began to open. She couldn't honestly say if she wished it were Harm or not. He had an absolute talent for ticking her off. He also brightened her day just by being in the same room and, dear god, she'd missed him horribly these last few months.
Annabel walked in and smiled when she saw Mac was looking at her, "Sarah, my dear, you don't know how glad I am to see you. Anthony Wade and I have been terribly worried ever since we realized what had happened." She walked up to the side of the bed, "Commander Rabb said you weren't feeling well, so I won't stay long."
Mac eyed her warily, Harm's disbelief had shaken her more than she thought, "Do you know where I've been?"
Annabel patted her arm, "Of course I do, dear. It took a little research to find out exactly when but I did finally figure it out. I'm so sorry you had to go through such an ordeal. It must have been frightening to find yourself in that time period."
The sense of relief Mac felt was surprising, "You believe me?"
"Certainly," Annabel blinked and then frowned slightly, "Your Commander Rabb did not, I take it?"
"No," Mac stared down at her hands, "I don't blame him, really. I was there and half the time I didn't believe it either."
"Men can be such skeptics. He'll come around, dear, he has no choice." Annabel smiled at the questioning look on Mac's face, "Sarah, what happened is true and no matter how he tries to evade, explain or deny; it's still the truth." She paused for a moment, "If it's any consolation, Dubby... your Gunnery Sergeant Walters, believes. I hope you won't mind sharing some of your experiences with him. He was fascinated by the concept."
"Gunny's a good man." Mac's slight smile was quickly replaced by a somewhat anxious look, "Annabel, your necklace - I'm not sure where it is right now. I know I had it last night... "
"I know, dear, I saw it. I imagine the hospital has it somewhere safe. They're usually pretty good about that sort of thing. I'll check with Timmy Rollins," Annabel gave Mac's arm an affectionate squeeze. "You rest for a bit and when you're feeling a little better, we'll discuss whatever you like."
Friday Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 1610 Local
Harm poked his head in the room and smiled hopefully when he saw Mac was awake. Shortly after his talk with the Gunny this morning, Dr. Bradley had come by to tell him that there were no odd drugs in Mac's system. They'd gone ahead and upped her pain medication and as a result, she'd been asleep most of the day. She was also stuck in the hospital until at least Sunday, a fact that Harm was pretty sure was going to make her crazy. Mac hated hospitals.
With not much else to do while she slept, he'd put in a call to his grandmother to find out what he could about Josiah Rabb. Her confirmation of what Mac had said had floored him. The enormity of what had happened to Mac hit him then and he had cringed a little thinking about how he'd dismissed the whole thing in front of her. Harm made a firm resolution to himself to do whatever he had to to get back into her good graces. Fortunately, his Marine was fairly predictable about one thing...
He held out a bag, "Truce? I brought food."
Mac smiled back, her sleepiness dissipating rapidly at the prospect of eating something besides hospital fare. "Truce. Get in here, Navy."
Her stomach growled as he walked up to the bed and he grinned, "I was about to ask if you were hungry but I believe I have my answer." He stopped short when she froze, a shocked expression on her face. He put his hand over hers, surprised to find that it was clenched tightly in a fist, "Mac, what's wrong?"
She took a deep breath, a haunted look in her eyes, "I'm sorry. What you said just then threw me a bit. Josiah... " She stopped, reluctant to continue in the face of his disbelief.
Harm stared at her, kicking himself for causing this reticence. Letting go of her hand, he brushed the back of his fingers down the side of her face and then continued down, trailing through her hair. Gunny had been right, it was a helluva lot longer than was possible for a week. Sighing, he settled himself on the side of her bed and looked down at the floor. She watched him with wide eyes. "Mac... Sarah, I just want to say that I... what I mean is... oh hell... I'm sorry. I should have known you and Annabel were telling me the truth. I know it's a little late, but I believe now." He couldn't help the shudder that ran through him. Accepting their story meant that what Annabel had read to him earlier was true also, he'd come close to losing her in the past.
Mac's heart gave a painful little thump at the bleak look on Harm's face. Silently, she opened her arms and he gratefully slid into her embrace. Quietly, they clung to one another, each drawing strength from the other. Somewhere in the back of Harm's mind, a little voice was telling him they couldn't stay like this forever but he was quite willing to ignore it. So many things could have gone wrong - had gone wrong. She might have been easily died back then... Moments later, a loud grumble made him pull back from her with a chuckle, "Your stomach has no sense of romance."
Mac couldn't help smiling, "Sure it does. It just happens to be in love with food." She leaned back against the pillows and raised an eyebrow, "So? What did you bring me?"
Sunday Shenandoah Valley Northern Virginia 0925 Local
Harm wheeled Mac down to the curb, trailed by Annabel and Anthony Wade. Gunny had gone to bring the car around. She couldn't help wrinkling her nose a bit. After 60 hours or so in the hospital, the outside air was definitely welcome but it was surprising how pervasive the smell of auto exhaust was. It was noisier too, more than she'd become accustomed to in the Valley. Harrisonburg wasn't that big a town, what was D.C. going to be like?
She watched people hurrying to and from the parking lot, many were talking on their cellphones while they walked. Although she had missed the conveniences of the twenty-first century, she'd forgotten about the constant intrusion of technology. Behind her, she could hear Harm and Anthony Wade amicably discussing the various aspects of military life. Annabel moved up alongside her and dropped a hand on her shoulder. Leaning down slightly, she said in a soft voice, "You'll have to give yourself time to adjust to all this again." Mac nodded silently. She hadn't had that much time to talk to Annabel about Avis, Corinna and the rest. She did learn from the older woman that Avis had lived well into her eighties, dying in 1927. She also told Mac about a journal Avis had kept. Mac had already made plans with Annabel to come back and visit after she had recovered.
It wasn't too long before Gunny pulled up. Hopping out of the car, he moved around to the curb to give Harm a hand with Mac. The two men helped her upright and then held on while she got her balance. Anthony Wade hovered nearby, holding the crutches Mac would be taking home with her.
Gunny looked at Harm and then Mac, "You'll be all right while I get the door, won't you Colonel?"
Mac stared at him for a moment before nodding, it still seemed odd to have someone refer to her by rank. Although she'd always defined herself by the Marine Corps, the last three months had been spent in a place where it didn't matter. She'd come to realize that in the back of her mind, she'd felt that she always needed that qualifier in order to have an identity. That if people didn't hear 'Lt. Col. Sarah MacKenzie, USMC', then their first reaction would be 'Sarah who?' Avis and Josiah had proved her wrong.
In short order, Harm maneuvered Mac into the back seat of the government sedan. Anthony Wade leaned in to hand her the crutches and give her a farewell hug. Annabel was next, "You take care, Sarah, and don't forget to call if you feel the need to talk." She patted Mac on the shoulder and then rummaged in her purse, "I almost forgot." Annabel pulled out a small, wrapped box and gave to it to Mac, "A little present from Anthony Wade and I. I think you'll like it."
Mac thanked her and a few minutes later, she, Harm and Gunny were on their way. She stretched out as best she could across the seat and leaned back. The pain medication kept her leg down to a dull throb but it also made her drowsy. By the time Gunny turned on to the Interstate, she was asleep.
Gunny glanced in the rearview mirror and then looked over at Harm, "She's out, sir."
Looking back, Harm nodded, "With a little luck, she'll stay like that until we reach DC." He looked over at Gunny, "What happened is going to have to stay between the three of us. We'll have take a little creative license with any explanations." Mac had told them the whole story yesterday afternoon. It was a calm recitation of facts and even though she'd barely touched on some of the more harrowing incidents, both men knew her well enough to hear what wasn't said. Her guardian angels had been working overtime.
Walters looked somewhat affronted, "Of course, sir. I don't want Colonel MacKenzie to get hauled off to the psych ward after everything else she's been through." He paused for a moment, "How did she feel about it?"
Harm grunted, "About how you'd expect, she doesn't want to lie to the Admiral. On the other hand, she's well aware that the truth is unbelievable. I think we can go with the nutty survivalists holding her."
Gunny raised an eyebrow, "Won't we have to produce some bodies, sir? Admiral Chegwidden will be out for blood."
"Hopefully, he'll accept that the local law enforcement people are looking into it." Harm shrugged and then grinned, "After we got Mac clear, I didn't pay too much attention to which way the bad guys ran, did you?"
"No sir," Walters smiled back.
Sunday Mac's Apartment Georgetown 1440 Local
Mac sat on the couch and looked around her apartment. It felt strange. She was alone for the moment, Gunny Walters was taking Harm to his place so he could get his car and an overnight bag. He had flatly refused to consider leaving her by herself overnight. She couldn't decide how she felt about it. Numb, mostly. Part of it was the pain medication making her feel stupid and lethargic. That was something that was going to have to stop. There was an insidious attraction in feeling so detached and she had no intention of going down that road. She wasn't really sure about the rest of it. Perhaps it was just the natural letdown after achieving the improbable.
Restless now, she scanned the apartment again. Harm wanted her to stay put until he got back, obviously convinced that she'd somehow re-injure herself if he wasn't there to hover. Mac frowned, Harm's protective streak was endearing... and smothering. If she didn't set some ground rules right now, he'd have her wrapped in cotton and safely stashed until he decided it was completely safe for her to get on with her life. She snorted to herself, if that were the case, she might never get out of this apartment again. Making up her mind, Mac leaned over and snagged the crutches from where they rested against the side of the couch. Carefully, she levered herself upright and then stood for a moment, undecided. Now what? She shook her head and chuckled to herself, talk about lack of mission planning. She hadn't thought any further about her mini-rebellion than making the effort to stand up.
The kitchen. She would make herself a cup of tea and after that, take a quick tour of the apartment. Cautiously, she headed for the kitchen. It had been years since she had to maneuver around on crutches. Same damn leg, too. Mac stopped in the doorway and looked in. The smallness of room had never caught her attention before. Now, however, she couldn't help comparing it to what Avis' was like. Granted, she wasn't exactly Miss Suzy Homemaker, but she'd developed a liking for large, airy kitchens. She moved over to the stove and amused herself for a moment, turning the burners off and on. Much easier than a wood-burning stove, Avis would have been thrilled. There was an unexpected prick of tears at the thought and she rubbed her eyes. Stop it, she told herself. There would be time enough to feel the loss later when she met up with Annabel and got a look at the journal. Pulling out a mug, she filled it with water and popped it in the microwave to heat up. After it dinged, she pulled out the now steaming water and dropped in the teabag. Getting the tea to the dining room table required abandoning a crutch but she managed to make it to a chair without slopping too badly.
Mac looked down at the cup as she absently stirred the steaming liquid. It had taken less than five minutes to produce the tea. Convenient, quick and she somehow doubted that Avis or Corinna would think much of it. They both enjoyed the time it took to boil the water and brew the tea. It was a legitimate break in the day to sit, relax, contemplate and converse. Some things didn't need to be hurried.
Finishing up her tea, Mac gazed around the apartment. She stopped when she saw the small, wrapped package on the table by the door. Annabel's present. She'd forgotten about it. Harm or Gunny must have put it there once they got her to the couch. Standing up, she headed over to retrieve the package. One crutch was more convenient to get around on, but two were definitely less tiring. Grabbing the box, she went back to the couch and eased herself back down. Panting a little, Mac grimaced. If this were any indication, she was going to have fun getting back in shape to pass her physical. Hopefully, it would only be a matter of getting her wind back. Strength-wise, she thought she was actually in better shape than before her 'trip'. The nineteenth century was a more physical time. During the six weeks with Josiah and his command, she'd marched with the men rather than ride in a wagon. That she could keep up had been a source of surprise and later a point of pride with the regiment: 'Our mascot is tougher than your mascot.'
While she was with Avis, once she had recovered, the farm chores seemed never-ending. There was wood to chop, stock to feed, stalls to muck out, gardens to hoe, crops to harvest. Mac absently glanced at her hands, they were hard and callused. She'd become pretty handy with an axe, hoe and scythe. She froze for a second, Sheridan! Mac ran a hand through her hair as she looked around the room. Dammit, had she, Avis, Deacon and his family done all that work only to have it burned by Yankee soldiers? Had they taken the livestock? The thought of Avis' sturdy, cheerful little Morgan horses being confiscated for use in the Union Army was awful. Horses were killed with alarming frequency, in many of the same appalling ways as the men. In some ways, it was more horrible. The men, at least, understood what was happening. Mac closed her eyes, why the hell did she have to start that chain of thought? Opening them again, she glanced over at her phone. Would Annabel know?
She looked down at the package that she was now gripping tightly. Sighing a little, she slowly began undoing the wrapping. A few minutes later, she was looking at a handful of cassette tapes. Picking up one, she squinted at the spidery writing and inhaled sharply in surprise. It was entitled 'Avis Payne Journal #1'. She quickly rifled through the rest. There were six, all told. Tucked in at the end was a small card. Mac pulled it out and began to read:
"Dear Sarah,
I know you plan to visit and that you were hoping to read Avis' journal. However, I imagine it might be a while before you can get back this way. (Assuming your Commander Rabb doesn't protest too vehemently. Coming back here probably has him worrying about a repeat performance.) At the same time, I can also imagine that you're worried over those you left behind. With that in mind, Anthony Wade and I have begun these tapes. We take turns reading out loud, Anthony Wade has gotten quite good at deciphering Avis' handwriting. When you actually read the journal, you'll see what I mean. Anyway, dear, I hope this helps ease the readjustment and gives you some closure. Don't forget to give yourself time to grieve. Even though the circumstances were peculiar, it doesn't change the sense of loss. Take care of yourself, I look forward to hearing about my great-grandmother. She was somewhat of a legend in the family.
Love, Annabel"
Wiping her eyes, Mac looked again at the tapes. What a wonderfully kind thing for Annabel and Anthony Wade to do. It certainly explained their absence during her hospital stay. She picked up the first tape and hauled herself upright, hopping a little as she got the crutch situated. Making her way over to the stereo, she popped in the tape and hit Play. There were a few seconds of tape hiss and a rustling noise, then Annabel's voice came over the speakers, "Is that thing working, Anthony Wade? You sure? I don't want to read for thirty minutes and find out it was for nothing." Mac smiled to herself as she listened to a low-pitched rumbling that had to be Anthony Wade. There was a brief pause and then Annabel came back on, "The Journal of Avis Harper Payne Simpson, late August, 1864. ... oh hush, she married him six months later... well, she's MY great-grandmother... yes, I will be that way...fine... here we go: 'Deacon Turner brought me a guest today. He said I would enjoy the mystery. Enjoy might be too strong a word - Sarah is an unusual woman in unusual circumstances... ' "
Mac leaned against the shelves and listened. Closing her eyes, it wasn't hard to imagine Avis' voice speaking the words. She wasn't sure when she started crying or, for that matter, when Harm reappeared. She found herself in his arms, his voice making soothing noises. Half turning, Mac buried herself in his chest, hanging on to his shirtfront.
Harm held on and let her cry. It always amazed him how quietly she did it. He'd brought it up once and Mac had gotten that hooded look that told him this was yet another by-product of her childhood. Finally, she seemed to wind down and he maneuvered them both to the couch. Settling down next to her, he stretched out an arm and snagged a box of tissues off the endtable. Silently, he handed her the box and waited. When she'd finished dabbing at her eyes and blowing her nose, he quietly ventured, "Do you want to talk about it?" For the life of him, he wasn't quite sure what had her so upset. Mac didn't cry easily. He would have understood if it had happened right after her return. Just like the 'Archangel' case, the sudden transition from peril to safety meant the relief from stress had to come out somehow.
Mac plucked a few more tissues from the box while she considered his question. She did need to talk about it, but with who? Try as he might, Harm could only guess how all this affected her. How could he understand that she'd grown close to these people from another era and missed them terribly? That she missed Avis' snug little house with its rose gardens and the smell of fresh baked bread mingling with woodsmoke. Missed the conversations, chess games and singing while you worked. She went still for a moment as the realization struck. She was homesick.
She turned the thought over in her mind and examined it. The feeling was certainly novel. There was no way in hell any of the places she'd lived during her childhood had ever felt like home. Homes were supposed to be safe havens and there was nothing safe about the MacKenzie household. However, her father did teach her how to create her own little sanctuary - all it took was alcohol. It took both her parents to drive home the lesson that trusting other people was a sure way to pain and disappointment.
She'd given up the alcohol but not the instinct to insulate herself, at least until she had slammed headfirst into DC and Harmon Rabb, Jr. It had been a long and sometimes frightening process. She'd spent years perfecting her defenses and it hadn't been easy, allowing anyone in. Harm had been one of the first and was probably the furthest past the walls. Surprisingly, or perhaps not, Avis was... had been a close second. There'd been no point in trying to hide anything from someone with her sensitivity and, as a result, Mac had been more open with the young woman in those short six weeks than she had ever allowed herself before. Not that she had taken to babbling, of course, but the experience had been illuminating. She'd finally gotten a taste of what family life could be like and she found herself envying what Avis had had.
"Mac?" Harm looked at her worriedly. He'd been exasperated to find her up when he returned. That had changed to concern when he realized she was crying. What was wrong now? She was home and safe. He shot a quick glance at her leg. He didn't think she'd hurt herself again. Mac's usual reaction to pain - physical, anyway - was anger. She would have been swearing, not crying. The stereo was on but volume was too low for him to tell what was playing. Mac had been practically leaning against a speaker and he had been focused on her.
She had been staring at him for what seemed like the longest time but Harm could tell she wasn't really seeing him. Taking a deep breath, he moved in closer and tried a different tack, "Mac, what was Josiah Rabb like?"
Mac blinked, looking startled, "What?"
"Josiah Rabb," Harm repeated patiently, "What was he like?"
She couldn't help smiling, "In a lot of ways, he was just like you."
Harm smiled back and opened his arms, "Why don't you settle in here and tell me all about him?"