'Reaching for Sarah's Soul' - Part Seven
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'
From part six:
He fought a difficult inward struggle, deciding whether to comply with her needs or not. The idea of leaving her by herself when she was yet so unsettled made him furious. Yet, he understood utterly and completely that she was longing for that distance from the bottom of her heart. And suddenly, the perfect solution to this dilemma came to his mind.
"I hate to do this," he began, seeing her nod self-consciously, "But if you promise to follow your doctors' orders and if this is really what you think you need most, then I'll be the last to hold you back. Under one condition, though," he added, raising his hand to stop her as she was apparently about to start thanking him for understanding.
Obviously a little taken aback, she only nodded, waiting for him to elaborate.
What he had in mind was a little audacious but it would set his mind at ease, knowing she would be taken good care of. He only had to make sure she wouldn't find out. "I have friends in the west," he began to lay out his plan to her. "An elderly couple who own a beautiful house with a magnificent ocean view, down in California. I don't see them often now but I know they still take boarding guests from time to time. They're very decent people and you'd have all the necessary solace you could wish for. They would provide you with anything you need - from a good physician to a nice barbecue on the terrace every night. I'm sure they'd love to have you. I'm even sure that if I talked to them, you'd get a special offer. And they'll ask no questions if you tell them not to. What do you say?"
She took a long minute to contemplate his offer - a minute that passed entirely too slow for him. 'Please, say yes,' he implored her, 'I want to be sure you're safe wherever you go.'
Finally, she met his eyes again, a slight, grateful smile playing on her features. "I think I'd like to get to know them."
Part Seven:
Jan. 25th 2317 ZULU Beach behind the Burnett Residence La Jolla, CA
Sarah Mackenzie was tense and afraid. Outwardly, no one would ever have suspected as much. Clad in a long white summer dress with long sleeves, she was resting in an old wooden sun chair, sunglasses and a broad straw hat protecting her from any malevolent UV rays, her whole demeanor as relaxed as could be. From where she was sitting, miles of white sand stretched in either direction and the steady coming and going of the Pacific's waves was a breathtaking sight. As the hours had gone by, their constant roar had turned into a soothing background music, now and then interrupted by a seagull's cry. The whole scenario breathed 'peace'.
Yet, Sarah's mind was in turmoil. For two hours and fourteen minutes, according to her internal clock that she had remembered having a few days ago, she had been sitting on this favorite spot of hers. Just like she had every day before... or so it seemed. However, one thing was different: today, there was no book or case file in her lap. There was a plain green cardboard folder, tied together with a green ribbon.
During the last ten days, Sarah had studiously avoided taking the folder out of the box Harriet had sent. There had been more than enough cases to study and books to peruse. Slowly, she was getting herself acquainted again with what had obviously been her life. When she had an especially good day, Sarah even managed to dig up fleeting images and other crumbs of information that the papers didn't contain. Those tiny pieces of the big puzzle she would turn over and over in her mind and lock them away like she would a treasure. Slowly, very slowly, she was beginning to get an impression of the woman known as Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie.
Yet, neither 'Sarah' nor 'Mac' seemed to be within reach. What little she did remember was always so strictly work-related that she was unable to get any personal information whatsoever out of it. And that was precisely why she dreaded opening the green folder that was now resting on her thighs. She had a distinct feeling that she would find information on either 'Sarah' or 'Mac' in it - but she feared that it might be like reading about just anybody. Some woman called Sarah. Having her personal life documented and yet not feeling connected to it...
Sarah doubted she would be able to stand the pain, should it come to that.
Of course, she had known that the day when she'd have to force herself to take this step would eventually come. Still, until today, she had had more than enough to learn from the twenty-plus cases Harriet had packed for her to read and she had been relieved to label them 'priority'.
Almost all of them were cases she had investigated with or argued against Harm. At first, Sarah had wondered if Lieutenant Sims had expressly picked those files because she wanted to make some point. But after thinking about it, she had come to the conclusion that her profound friendship with Harm was apparently so special that everyone at JAG would know about it and was eager to restore it to them. And what's more, Sarah had soon found that many of their cases had indeed been extraordinary ones that must have affected her personality in some way. So it would only seem natural that Harriet should choose them in order to get her friend re-acquainted with her true self.
Although she still didn't know what being herself must have felt like, Sarah had learned a lot of details about her previous life, as well as about that of her friend and about how working together had tied them to each other. The saying "actions speak louder than words" had been confirmed many times over, and many times had she been astonished by the actions either of them had taken.
Take Russia. Of the first trip, the one Harm had mentioned, she had, of course, found no written reports. That had been a private crusade of Harm's. But if that was the case, her following him must have been her private decision as well. Sarah had dismissed any questions that arose from this conclusion, scheduling them to be asked at some later time - until she had come across an espionage trial she had prosecuted against a commander who was murdered before the findings. Harm had been in Russia at the same time, helping to revise Russian military law and had ended up investigating a Russian colonel in Chechnya. Not only had she eventually found out that both their cases were related - no, she had flown across the Atlantic and had followed him thousands of miles across the country, right into a war zone, with no obvious reason as to why she should have done it.
As Harm had told her, they had ended up saving President Putin's life - and that of Harm's brother Sergei, too. But this wasn't what troubled her most. What was beginning to drive her crazy was the nagging doubt that it required deeper feelings than just friendship to induce anyone into taking such a step. Twice.
Then, there was this remarkable case about a police officer stalking her. It had been Harm who had come up with a plan to stop him. And it had been Harm who had come after her and had saved her when things had threatened to unravel.
She had swallowed heavily when she had come across her own court-martial. To learn that she had been accused of having shot her husband, and that her ex-boyfriend was a superior officer with whom she had been guilty of fraternization... If it hadn't been for Harm's ardent defense, she doubted the outcome would have been as favorable as it had been.
Even more surprised, she had found out a few days later that she herself had cleared Harm of murder charges as well, the year before her own trial. He had escaped from the brig - only to seek shelter with her, of all people, although she hadn't even been working at JAG at the time.
Sarah had read and read and read - about lunatic doctors on submarines beneath the Arctic ice, about Jumbo Jets being kidnapped and directed into North Korean airspace, about Vietnam veterans saving their wives from dying by trusting the vision of a dead military chaplain, about Israeli ministers awaiting a donated heart and receiving that of a Palestinian terrorist. Either Harm or she had come to play the hero's part in many of those scenarios. Reading about herself in a novel, she would have sneered at the author's wild fantasy - as well as about the implausible yearlong ill-fated romance he seemed to have planned out for his two main characters.
Yet, she knew that what she had read was true. And subsequently, almost all questions that might arise from any of those files came down to one single phrase in the end: how on Earth could it be possible that there had never been anything but platonic caring between her and Harmon Rabb, Jr.? Or had there...?
It was with a considerable amount of dread that Sarah had had to acknowledge to herself to what extent she apparently depended on Harm's presence. During those horrible first days after waking from the coma, he had always been there for her, no matter whether he had been physically present or not. He had been her firm rock to lean on. The one constant in a life that was floating in continuous motion. By putting some distance in between them, Sarah had wanted to prove to herself that she could stand on her own. As it turned out, she could - but it hurt far more than she would have imagined. She had no idea if it was out of fear of being left alone to face her situation or if there was something else to the picture, but there was no denying it: she was missing Harm dreadfully.
His smile that had the power to warm her from inside. His voice that had the power to soothe her anxieties when they threatened to overwhelm her. His sense of humor that had the power to help her relax and take one step at a time. His whole wonderful self.
Her best friend on Earth. She still didn't remember knowing him - but she had no doubt that he had always been that to her. And she couldn't help wondering why he hadn't been more. Or had he...?
As the days had passed, this question had become predominant in her mind. While reading the cases and her personnel file, gradually putting together the puzzle of who Sarah Mackenzie was in professional life - how she worked, the way she judged this case or that situation, the way she argued, fought, reacted - Sarah's conviction kept growing persistently that Harmon Rabb's life was tied far more closely to her own than he wanted to admit, for whatever reason. And if that be the case, she needed his story to complete hers. The full, unedited version. But how the devil would she get him to open up to her? Just by telling him, "Hey, by the way, I need every detail of your private life to fill in the blanks of mine." Sure.
After spending entire nights brooding over the dilemma, Sarah had finally arrived at the conclusion that there was only one thing she could attempt to do: be his friend the way he wanted her to. By the time they trusted each other unconditionally again - assuming they really had, in the past - he might be ready to give her what she needed: a friend's outside view of her, right down to the last detail of what made her the person she was in other people's eyes. 'In his eyes,' her heart added.
Staring motionlessly at the blue-green waves, Sarah's thoughts were incessantly circling around her friend. There was no doubt that he cared deeply for her. The latest proof of his attachment was how he had not only respected her wish to pass some time alone, but had even provided her with her current accommodation.
To call it simply 'accommodation' would mean to do her hosts severe injustice. Patricia and Frank Burnett were dear, caring people who outdid themselves providing her with each and everything she might need. Initially, Sarah had wondered a little why people as obviously rich as the Burnetts would have boarding guests in the first place. But she had soon found out why. Mrs. Burnett seemed to love having her around, and not just because it might keep her from falling into the wealthy-housewife routine. As a matter of fact, she seemed overjoyed to have someone to wait upon, to show around her impressive art gallery, to engage in animated conversation about almost everything - from gardening to world politics.
However, what Sarah appreciated most was that she and her husband were indeed very discreet people. Mrs. Burnett had told her that Mr. Rabb had called before her arrival, informing her that Ms. Mackenzie wished to be left alone most of the time. Of course she would see to it that Ms. Mackenzie should find all the necessary time and quiet she was looking for. Still, should she need anything or should she just feel in the mood for some company, Ms. Mackenzie would always be very welcome to seek her out. So, when Sarah had asked for a sun chair to take to the beach, Mr. Burnett himself had shown her his favorite spot and had set up the old, comfortable chair for her, not once attempting to ask why she preferred the sandy solitude to their beautiful terrace.
All in all, Sarah was feeling reassured and very much at ease - except when her thoughts drifted to the mysterious green cardboard folder that might hold the key to her personality. So it was with considerable trepidation that she now drew a deep breath and pulled the knot open. 'God, please, let me feel something. Anything. Don't let this be just another file to me.'
She gave a low cry of amazement at the sheer number of documents, papers and photos the folder held. Right on top lay a personal note, addressed to her.
Ma'am,
I don't mean to intrude but when I dusted your apartment I found this in the drawer of your nightstand. I know you said you didn't want anything personal, but I thought this might contain some essential parts of your life, ma'am. So I took the liberty of sending it along with the rest. I'm not sure, though, what you'll find for I only opened it briefly to put my note to you inside.
We all miss you very much, ma'am. Maybe this is why I'm being so bold as to ignore your wishes. Please, get well soon and don't hold a grudge against...
...Harriet
'No, you're right, Lieutenant,' Sarah silently addressed her far-away friend, sighing. 'I need to do this. Thank you for choosing to be straightforward.'
She began to thumb through the impressive stack of papers, careful not to let them be blown away by the breeze. The first half was all bureaucratic, she noted with relief as well as disappointment. After reading the documents carefully and trying to memorize as much as possible, Sarah now knew her address, the size of her apartment, the rent, how much she spent on telephone, internet and cable expenses, and that her apartment was equipped with a fireplace that seemed to save her quite a lot of heating. Two photos that came with the contract showed the apartment in its bare state. But even like this it was obvious that she was living quite agreeably.
Then, she had learned all about her medical insurance, her social security, the Big Sister Program and her little 'sister' Chloe Madison of whom she had also found a picture attached to the documents. After that, to her surprise, she had found out she drove a Corvette. She would have considered herself more a Jeep person - but then, who exactly was 'herself'?
Eventually, the stack of papers came to an end. Sarah tucked the last document underneath the others and found herself confronted with a large quantity of photos. Most of the people displayed on them she already knew, thanks to the files and based on what Harm had told her. And where she was unsure about whom she was looking at, all she needed to do was turn the picture over and read the comment she had written on the backside.
The variety of occasions present in the stack surprised her a little. Apparently, her colleagues had become kind of a surrogate family to her. She found pictures of the Roberts's wedding, little AJ's christening, Christmas at the office, Christmas at someone's home, a party she couldn't really place (the only remarkable thing being that Bud was wearing an apron when everyone else was wearing jacket and tie) - and time and time again Harm and her together. Hunting for Easter Eggs with little AJ. Running at full speed, apparently trying to beat each other. Dancing - Harm in mess dress, her in a black evening dress with long, elegant gloves. Both in their dress uniforms - hers blue, his white - standing at attention. Both leaning against the railing at some carrier's fantail, dressed in khakis and looking relaxed and at ease.
More than once, a smile lit up Sarah's features as she came across yet another display of a family-like circle of friends. And she was all the more sorry that she felt like she was seeing everything for the first time ever. No matter how hard she tried to remember - this didn't feel like her life. But at least she didn't look at herself anymore as if she were looking at some stranger. Seeing her face in the mirror each day had led her to accept that the tall handsome woman in the pictures was indeed herself.
Putting away one last picture that showed Harm with his then new godson on his arms, his smile as gorgeous as she had ever seen it, Sarah had reached the last object the green folder contained: a big brown envelope. She tried to ignore the pain that feeling so unconnected to what she had found was causing her. At least she knew for sure now that she had quite a few dear friends - friends she could even call her family. If she didn't have herself, she could at least count on their compassionate affection. Sarah suspected that Mac wouldn't have liked being comforted too much, but right now, she admitted to herself that she was grateful for it.
With a decided sigh, she opened the envelope. Until now, the folder hadn't revealed any skeletons in her closet. So this last one shouldn't be too hard.
She was astonished to see it contained more photos - all of her and a man she didn't know. From a photo that showed him in dress whites, she deduced he was a naval officer as well - and when she saw that these dress whites were different from those she had seen on Harm, or the admiral, or Bud previously, she remembered what Harm had told her about that Australian she had apparently been seeing for some time. Mic Brumby. This had to be him.
He looked nice, she conceded, but where Harm's self-confidence was becoming, his seemed just a little arrogant. Well, it hadn't lasted, Harm had told her. As she was thumbing through the stack of pictures of her and Brumby, Sarah thought she knew why. However, her breath caught in her throat when on one picture, she once again spotted Bud in that strange apron. And taking a closer look, she understood that she and Brumby were... cutting a cake together! A cake with an American and an Australian flag. Biting her trembling lower lip, Sarah skimmed the following pictures for one that would allow her a glimpse at her left hand.
Good God.
She had been engaged to that man! Once again, fury began to well up inside her. Again Harm had concealed decisive facts from her. 'Why?' she asked herself, feeling a sharp pang of disappointment. After a moment, though, her conscience scolded her sharply. 'Give that poor man the benefit of a doubt. Maybe you were hurting a lot about the broken relationship and he wanted to spare you from reliving that pain.' Sarah took a deep breath to settle herself, feeling her fury dissipate. Yes, this had to be it. Anyway, she would ask him about it when she'd next see him. An engagement wasn't something you'd take as a given and didn't ask questions about.
Turning her attention back to what she was holding in her hands, Sarah became aware that there was a small envelope right underneath the pictures. Upon closer examination, it became evident that it was a letter that had twice traveled around the world, taking a few wide detours on the Australian continent before being returned to its sender in Washington: herself. 'Recipient's current address unknown,' she read. Curious, she opened it. The letter dated back three months. Feeling her apprehension grow and not really knowing why, Sarah began to read.
Dear Mic,
half a year has passed since your departure. I am sorry I haven't been able to make up my mind and write any earlier. But I just couldn't. I was hurting and I was angry with you. Trying to clear the air in that state of mind would have come to nothing.
I have accepted your decision and I have come to believe you made the right choice. It hurt a lot arriving at this conclusion but now I have made my peace with it and am ready to move on. So, theoretically, we could just leave it at that and let the whole matter rest. Yet, I feel I owe you an explanation - as far as I can explain it to myself - as to why 'we' didn't work. Only now that I have returned from a four-months TDY I that served in Indonesia, can I approach this subject without rancor or regret.
You asked me a question when you were leaving. You wanted to know if I was begging you to stay because I wanted you in my life or just because I was afraid of being left alone. I couldn't admit it back then, not even to myself. But you were right. I was indeed afraid, dreadfully afraid of being alone again. Somehow I think I knew even then. Yet, I tried to make myself believe it were something else.
I am ashamed of how I treated you, Mic. And, please, believe me when I say that in a way, I really did love you. You are a good man, and you deserve someone who really loves you for who you are - not for the things you offer that she might have been longing for.
I know you believe there is something between Harm and me. I'll admit that my reaction to him being lost at sea would probably lead anyone to suspect there was. A woman who is about to pledge her life to one man the next day isn't supposed to cry and be so utterly distraught thinking about another. And naturally, the fact that you called him before your departure because you suspected I would be with him, and that you actually found me there, didn't help reverse the picture you had gotten of the situation.
Maybe at times, even Harm and I ourselves don't quite know where we stand with each other, but I can tell you that we didn't fall into each other's arms the moment you were gone. Hard as it may be for anyone to believe: Harm and I are and always were nothing more than friends, whereas I loved and was ready to marry you. Still, I have never had a friend that was closer or dearer to me than Harm is. Maybe, from this point of view, my reaction to his plane crash is understandable.
As I said, the situation between Harm and me is just the same as always now. So, if I tell you that I think the choice you made to cancel the wedding was the right one, please don't think that's because I am now hoping to get together with Harm instead. This is not so.
True, Harm's insisting on taking the last flight back from the carrier, knowing he might be flying into bad weather, just because he wanted to be there for the wedding, might seem like an admission of feelings other than friendship that he just never dared to voice. But as you can see, it wasn't that at all. Still, the dreadful hours praying that the search teams would find him did make things clearer to me. Not immediately, but in the long run. At that moment, my feelings for him ran deeper than they did for you - and that simply isn't a ground one should base a lifelong commitment on. I am glad we didn't. The events of that night saved me from settling for something that would have made neither me nor you happy in the end. There was no other man involved - there just wasn't enough involvement with the man who wanted me.
I only hope that someday you will meet the woman who will be able to give you all the love you would have wished I had for you.
Be safe, Mic. As a friend, I will still be there for you, should you ever need me.
Always, Sarah
It was nearly half an hour after she had finished reading the letter for the third time that Sarah Mackenzie could make up her mind, reach for her crutches and return to the house. Back in her room, she immediately lay down, hoping a little sleep would set her mind at ease and restore her emotional strength.
She would need all of it, digesting what she had just learned.
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after 'Answered Prayers'
From part six:
He fought a difficult inward struggle, deciding whether to comply with her needs or not. The idea of leaving her by herself when she was yet so unsettled made him furious. Yet, he understood utterly and completely that she was longing for that distance from the bottom of her heart. And suddenly, the perfect solution to this dilemma came to his mind.
"I hate to do this," he began, seeing her nod self-consciously, "But if you promise to follow your doctors' orders and if this is really what you think you need most, then I'll be the last to hold you back. Under one condition, though," he added, raising his hand to stop her as she was apparently about to start thanking him for understanding.
Obviously a little taken aback, she only nodded, waiting for him to elaborate.
What he had in mind was a little audacious but it would set his mind at ease, knowing she would be taken good care of. He only had to make sure she wouldn't find out. "I have friends in the west," he began to lay out his plan to her. "An elderly couple who own a beautiful house with a magnificent ocean view, down in California. I don't see them often now but I know they still take boarding guests from time to time. They're very decent people and you'd have all the necessary solace you could wish for. They would provide you with anything you need - from a good physician to a nice barbecue on the terrace every night. I'm sure they'd love to have you. I'm even sure that if I talked to them, you'd get a special offer. And they'll ask no questions if you tell them not to. What do you say?"
She took a long minute to contemplate his offer - a minute that passed entirely too slow for him. 'Please, say yes,' he implored her, 'I want to be sure you're safe wherever you go.'
Finally, she met his eyes again, a slight, grateful smile playing on her features. "I think I'd like to get to know them."
Part Seven:
Jan. 25th 2317 ZULU Beach behind the Burnett Residence La Jolla, CA
Sarah Mackenzie was tense and afraid. Outwardly, no one would ever have suspected as much. Clad in a long white summer dress with long sleeves, she was resting in an old wooden sun chair, sunglasses and a broad straw hat protecting her from any malevolent UV rays, her whole demeanor as relaxed as could be. From where she was sitting, miles of white sand stretched in either direction and the steady coming and going of the Pacific's waves was a breathtaking sight. As the hours had gone by, their constant roar had turned into a soothing background music, now and then interrupted by a seagull's cry. The whole scenario breathed 'peace'.
Yet, Sarah's mind was in turmoil. For two hours and fourteen minutes, according to her internal clock that she had remembered having a few days ago, she had been sitting on this favorite spot of hers. Just like she had every day before... or so it seemed. However, one thing was different: today, there was no book or case file in her lap. There was a plain green cardboard folder, tied together with a green ribbon.
During the last ten days, Sarah had studiously avoided taking the folder out of the box Harriet had sent. There had been more than enough cases to study and books to peruse. Slowly, she was getting herself acquainted again with what had obviously been her life. When she had an especially good day, Sarah even managed to dig up fleeting images and other crumbs of information that the papers didn't contain. Those tiny pieces of the big puzzle she would turn over and over in her mind and lock them away like she would a treasure. Slowly, very slowly, she was beginning to get an impression of the woman known as Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie.
Yet, neither 'Sarah' nor 'Mac' seemed to be within reach. What little she did remember was always so strictly work-related that she was unable to get any personal information whatsoever out of it. And that was precisely why she dreaded opening the green folder that was now resting on her thighs. She had a distinct feeling that she would find information on either 'Sarah' or 'Mac' in it - but she feared that it might be like reading about just anybody. Some woman called Sarah. Having her personal life documented and yet not feeling connected to it...
Sarah doubted she would be able to stand the pain, should it come to that.
Of course, she had known that the day when she'd have to force herself to take this step would eventually come. Still, until today, she had had more than enough to learn from the twenty-plus cases Harriet had packed for her to read and she had been relieved to label them 'priority'.
Almost all of them were cases she had investigated with or argued against Harm. At first, Sarah had wondered if Lieutenant Sims had expressly picked those files because she wanted to make some point. But after thinking about it, she had come to the conclusion that her profound friendship with Harm was apparently so special that everyone at JAG would know about it and was eager to restore it to them. And what's more, Sarah had soon found that many of their cases had indeed been extraordinary ones that must have affected her personality in some way. So it would only seem natural that Harriet should choose them in order to get her friend re-acquainted with her true self.
Although she still didn't know what being herself must have felt like, Sarah had learned a lot of details about her previous life, as well as about that of her friend and about how working together had tied them to each other. The saying "actions speak louder than words" had been confirmed many times over, and many times had she been astonished by the actions either of them had taken.
Take Russia. Of the first trip, the one Harm had mentioned, she had, of course, found no written reports. That had been a private crusade of Harm's. But if that was the case, her following him must have been her private decision as well. Sarah had dismissed any questions that arose from this conclusion, scheduling them to be asked at some later time - until she had come across an espionage trial she had prosecuted against a commander who was murdered before the findings. Harm had been in Russia at the same time, helping to revise Russian military law and had ended up investigating a Russian colonel in Chechnya. Not only had she eventually found out that both their cases were related - no, she had flown across the Atlantic and had followed him thousands of miles across the country, right into a war zone, with no obvious reason as to why she should have done it.
As Harm had told her, they had ended up saving President Putin's life - and that of Harm's brother Sergei, too. But this wasn't what troubled her most. What was beginning to drive her crazy was the nagging doubt that it required deeper feelings than just friendship to induce anyone into taking such a step. Twice.
Then, there was this remarkable case about a police officer stalking her. It had been Harm who had come up with a plan to stop him. And it had been Harm who had come after her and had saved her when things had threatened to unravel.
She had swallowed heavily when she had come across her own court-martial. To learn that she had been accused of having shot her husband, and that her ex-boyfriend was a superior officer with whom she had been guilty of fraternization... If it hadn't been for Harm's ardent defense, she doubted the outcome would have been as favorable as it had been.
Even more surprised, she had found out a few days later that she herself had cleared Harm of murder charges as well, the year before her own trial. He had escaped from the brig - only to seek shelter with her, of all people, although she hadn't even been working at JAG at the time.
Sarah had read and read and read - about lunatic doctors on submarines beneath the Arctic ice, about Jumbo Jets being kidnapped and directed into North Korean airspace, about Vietnam veterans saving their wives from dying by trusting the vision of a dead military chaplain, about Israeli ministers awaiting a donated heart and receiving that of a Palestinian terrorist. Either Harm or she had come to play the hero's part in many of those scenarios. Reading about herself in a novel, she would have sneered at the author's wild fantasy - as well as about the implausible yearlong ill-fated romance he seemed to have planned out for his two main characters.
Yet, she knew that what she had read was true. And subsequently, almost all questions that might arise from any of those files came down to one single phrase in the end: how on Earth could it be possible that there had never been anything but platonic caring between her and Harmon Rabb, Jr.? Or had there...?
It was with a considerable amount of dread that Sarah had had to acknowledge to herself to what extent she apparently depended on Harm's presence. During those horrible first days after waking from the coma, he had always been there for her, no matter whether he had been physically present or not. He had been her firm rock to lean on. The one constant in a life that was floating in continuous motion. By putting some distance in between them, Sarah had wanted to prove to herself that she could stand on her own. As it turned out, she could - but it hurt far more than she would have imagined. She had no idea if it was out of fear of being left alone to face her situation or if there was something else to the picture, but there was no denying it: she was missing Harm dreadfully.
His smile that had the power to warm her from inside. His voice that had the power to soothe her anxieties when they threatened to overwhelm her. His sense of humor that had the power to help her relax and take one step at a time. His whole wonderful self.
Her best friend on Earth. She still didn't remember knowing him - but she had no doubt that he had always been that to her. And she couldn't help wondering why he hadn't been more. Or had he...?
As the days had passed, this question had become predominant in her mind. While reading the cases and her personnel file, gradually putting together the puzzle of who Sarah Mackenzie was in professional life - how she worked, the way she judged this case or that situation, the way she argued, fought, reacted - Sarah's conviction kept growing persistently that Harmon Rabb's life was tied far more closely to her own than he wanted to admit, for whatever reason. And if that be the case, she needed his story to complete hers. The full, unedited version. But how the devil would she get him to open up to her? Just by telling him, "Hey, by the way, I need every detail of your private life to fill in the blanks of mine." Sure.
After spending entire nights brooding over the dilemma, Sarah had finally arrived at the conclusion that there was only one thing she could attempt to do: be his friend the way he wanted her to. By the time they trusted each other unconditionally again - assuming they really had, in the past - he might be ready to give her what she needed: a friend's outside view of her, right down to the last detail of what made her the person she was in other people's eyes. 'In his eyes,' her heart added.
Staring motionlessly at the blue-green waves, Sarah's thoughts were incessantly circling around her friend. There was no doubt that he cared deeply for her. The latest proof of his attachment was how he had not only respected her wish to pass some time alone, but had even provided her with her current accommodation.
To call it simply 'accommodation' would mean to do her hosts severe injustice. Patricia and Frank Burnett were dear, caring people who outdid themselves providing her with each and everything she might need. Initially, Sarah had wondered a little why people as obviously rich as the Burnetts would have boarding guests in the first place. But she had soon found out why. Mrs. Burnett seemed to love having her around, and not just because it might keep her from falling into the wealthy-housewife routine. As a matter of fact, she seemed overjoyed to have someone to wait upon, to show around her impressive art gallery, to engage in animated conversation about almost everything - from gardening to world politics.
However, what Sarah appreciated most was that she and her husband were indeed very discreet people. Mrs. Burnett had told her that Mr. Rabb had called before her arrival, informing her that Ms. Mackenzie wished to be left alone most of the time. Of course she would see to it that Ms. Mackenzie should find all the necessary time and quiet she was looking for. Still, should she need anything or should she just feel in the mood for some company, Ms. Mackenzie would always be very welcome to seek her out. So, when Sarah had asked for a sun chair to take to the beach, Mr. Burnett himself had shown her his favorite spot and had set up the old, comfortable chair for her, not once attempting to ask why she preferred the sandy solitude to their beautiful terrace.
All in all, Sarah was feeling reassured and very much at ease - except when her thoughts drifted to the mysterious green cardboard folder that might hold the key to her personality. So it was with considerable trepidation that she now drew a deep breath and pulled the knot open. 'God, please, let me feel something. Anything. Don't let this be just another file to me.'
She gave a low cry of amazement at the sheer number of documents, papers and photos the folder held. Right on top lay a personal note, addressed to her.
Ma'am,
I don't mean to intrude but when I dusted your apartment I found this in the drawer of your nightstand. I know you said you didn't want anything personal, but I thought this might contain some essential parts of your life, ma'am. So I took the liberty of sending it along with the rest. I'm not sure, though, what you'll find for I only opened it briefly to put my note to you inside.
We all miss you very much, ma'am. Maybe this is why I'm being so bold as to ignore your wishes. Please, get well soon and don't hold a grudge against...
...Harriet
'No, you're right, Lieutenant,' Sarah silently addressed her far-away friend, sighing. 'I need to do this. Thank you for choosing to be straightforward.'
She began to thumb through the impressive stack of papers, careful not to let them be blown away by the breeze. The first half was all bureaucratic, she noted with relief as well as disappointment. After reading the documents carefully and trying to memorize as much as possible, Sarah now knew her address, the size of her apartment, the rent, how much she spent on telephone, internet and cable expenses, and that her apartment was equipped with a fireplace that seemed to save her quite a lot of heating. Two photos that came with the contract showed the apartment in its bare state. But even like this it was obvious that she was living quite agreeably.
Then, she had learned all about her medical insurance, her social security, the Big Sister Program and her little 'sister' Chloe Madison of whom she had also found a picture attached to the documents. After that, to her surprise, she had found out she drove a Corvette. She would have considered herself more a Jeep person - but then, who exactly was 'herself'?
Eventually, the stack of papers came to an end. Sarah tucked the last document underneath the others and found herself confronted with a large quantity of photos. Most of the people displayed on them she already knew, thanks to the files and based on what Harm had told her. And where she was unsure about whom she was looking at, all she needed to do was turn the picture over and read the comment she had written on the backside.
The variety of occasions present in the stack surprised her a little. Apparently, her colleagues had become kind of a surrogate family to her. She found pictures of the Roberts's wedding, little AJ's christening, Christmas at the office, Christmas at someone's home, a party she couldn't really place (the only remarkable thing being that Bud was wearing an apron when everyone else was wearing jacket and tie) - and time and time again Harm and her together. Hunting for Easter Eggs with little AJ. Running at full speed, apparently trying to beat each other. Dancing - Harm in mess dress, her in a black evening dress with long, elegant gloves. Both in their dress uniforms - hers blue, his white - standing at attention. Both leaning against the railing at some carrier's fantail, dressed in khakis and looking relaxed and at ease.
More than once, a smile lit up Sarah's features as she came across yet another display of a family-like circle of friends. And she was all the more sorry that she felt like she was seeing everything for the first time ever. No matter how hard she tried to remember - this didn't feel like her life. But at least she didn't look at herself anymore as if she were looking at some stranger. Seeing her face in the mirror each day had led her to accept that the tall handsome woman in the pictures was indeed herself.
Putting away one last picture that showed Harm with his then new godson on his arms, his smile as gorgeous as she had ever seen it, Sarah had reached the last object the green folder contained: a big brown envelope. She tried to ignore the pain that feeling so unconnected to what she had found was causing her. At least she knew for sure now that she had quite a few dear friends - friends she could even call her family. If she didn't have herself, she could at least count on their compassionate affection. Sarah suspected that Mac wouldn't have liked being comforted too much, but right now, she admitted to herself that she was grateful for it.
With a decided sigh, she opened the envelope. Until now, the folder hadn't revealed any skeletons in her closet. So this last one shouldn't be too hard.
She was astonished to see it contained more photos - all of her and a man she didn't know. From a photo that showed him in dress whites, she deduced he was a naval officer as well - and when she saw that these dress whites were different from those she had seen on Harm, or the admiral, or Bud previously, she remembered what Harm had told her about that Australian she had apparently been seeing for some time. Mic Brumby. This had to be him.
He looked nice, she conceded, but where Harm's self-confidence was becoming, his seemed just a little arrogant. Well, it hadn't lasted, Harm had told her. As she was thumbing through the stack of pictures of her and Brumby, Sarah thought she knew why. However, her breath caught in her throat when on one picture, she once again spotted Bud in that strange apron. And taking a closer look, she understood that she and Brumby were... cutting a cake together! A cake with an American and an Australian flag. Biting her trembling lower lip, Sarah skimmed the following pictures for one that would allow her a glimpse at her left hand.
Good God.
She had been engaged to that man! Once again, fury began to well up inside her. Again Harm had concealed decisive facts from her. 'Why?' she asked herself, feeling a sharp pang of disappointment. After a moment, though, her conscience scolded her sharply. 'Give that poor man the benefit of a doubt. Maybe you were hurting a lot about the broken relationship and he wanted to spare you from reliving that pain.' Sarah took a deep breath to settle herself, feeling her fury dissipate. Yes, this had to be it. Anyway, she would ask him about it when she'd next see him. An engagement wasn't something you'd take as a given and didn't ask questions about.
Turning her attention back to what she was holding in her hands, Sarah became aware that there was a small envelope right underneath the pictures. Upon closer examination, it became evident that it was a letter that had twice traveled around the world, taking a few wide detours on the Australian continent before being returned to its sender in Washington: herself. 'Recipient's current address unknown,' she read. Curious, she opened it. The letter dated back three months. Feeling her apprehension grow and not really knowing why, Sarah began to read.
Dear Mic,
half a year has passed since your departure. I am sorry I haven't been able to make up my mind and write any earlier. But I just couldn't. I was hurting and I was angry with you. Trying to clear the air in that state of mind would have come to nothing.
I have accepted your decision and I have come to believe you made the right choice. It hurt a lot arriving at this conclusion but now I have made my peace with it and am ready to move on. So, theoretically, we could just leave it at that and let the whole matter rest. Yet, I feel I owe you an explanation - as far as I can explain it to myself - as to why 'we' didn't work. Only now that I have returned from a four-months TDY I that served in Indonesia, can I approach this subject without rancor or regret.
You asked me a question when you were leaving. You wanted to know if I was begging you to stay because I wanted you in my life or just because I was afraid of being left alone. I couldn't admit it back then, not even to myself. But you were right. I was indeed afraid, dreadfully afraid of being alone again. Somehow I think I knew even then. Yet, I tried to make myself believe it were something else.
I am ashamed of how I treated you, Mic. And, please, believe me when I say that in a way, I really did love you. You are a good man, and you deserve someone who really loves you for who you are - not for the things you offer that she might have been longing for.
I know you believe there is something between Harm and me. I'll admit that my reaction to him being lost at sea would probably lead anyone to suspect there was. A woman who is about to pledge her life to one man the next day isn't supposed to cry and be so utterly distraught thinking about another. And naturally, the fact that you called him before your departure because you suspected I would be with him, and that you actually found me there, didn't help reverse the picture you had gotten of the situation.
Maybe at times, even Harm and I ourselves don't quite know where we stand with each other, but I can tell you that we didn't fall into each other's arms the moment you were gone. Hard as it may be for anyone to believe: Harm and I are and always were nothing more than friends, whereas I loved and was ready to marry you. Still, I have never had a friend that was closer or dearer to me than Harm is. Maybe, from this point of view, my reaction to his plane crash is understandable.
As I said, the situation between Harm and me is just the same as always now. So, if I tell you that I think the choice you made to cancel the wedding was the right one, please don't think that's because I am now hoping to get together with Harm instead. This is not so.
True, Harm's insisting on taking the last flight back from the carrier, knowing he might be flying into bad weather, just because he wanted to be there for the wedding, might seem like an admission of feelings other than friendship that he just never dared to voice. But as you can see, it wasn't that at all. Still, the dreadful hours praying that the search teams would find him did make things clearer to me. Not immediately, but in the long run. At that moment, my feelings for him ran deeper than they did for you - and that simply isn't a ground one should base a lifelong commitment on. I am glad we didn't. The events of that night saved me from settling for something that would have made neither me nor you happy in the end. There was no other man involved - there just wasn't enough involvement with the man who wanted me.
I only hope that someday you will meet the woman who will be able to give you all the love you would have wished I had for you.
Be safe, Mic. As a friend, I will still be there for you, should you ever need me.
Always, Sarah
It was nearly half an hour after she had finished reading the letter for the third time that Sarah Mackenzie could make up her mind, reach for her crutches and return to the house. Back in her room, she immediately lay down, hoping a little sleep would set her mind at ease and restore her emotional strength.
She would need all of it, digesting what she had just learned.
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!)