28 February 2004
14:00 Local
Home of Clayton Webb
I stood in front of Clay's door, my hand poised to knock. I hesitated for a moment, gathering strength for what I knew I had to do. Finally, my wrist flexed and my knuckles rapped on the door three times. I heard a sound like something being knocked over and someone cursing. The door opened to reveal Clay looking like he hadn't slept, showered or shaved since I last saw him.
"Hi, Clay," I said softly. "May I come in?"
His eyes didn't seem to focus too well, but he stepped aside and allowed me to pass. When I came in, I could see that the coffee table was crooked, as if Clay must have stumbled against it. That would explain the noise that I heard from the hall. As I got closer I could see that a bottle of something had turned over and spilled all over the coffee table. It was the cana, the liquor I had mentioned to him the other night as being a souvenir from our nightmare in Paraguay.
I turned to look back at Clay and realized he was drunk. He'd been drinking already? It was only two o'clock! Maybe my way of dealing with the pressure wasn't terribly healthy, but this was even worse. Having grown up with a drunk, I knew I couldn't let myself get caught up in this. Best to just say my piece and leave. Unfortunately, saying it to a drunk might mean he wouldn't remember, and I'd have to play to the same audience again in a few days.
Clay staggered toward me and tried to put his arms around me. I put my hands on his shirt front and pushed him away gently. I then took his arm and pulled him over to sit on the sofa.
"Whatsa matter, Sarah?" he slurred at me. "Not in the mood? Come on, let's have some fun!"
Fortunately he was in no condition to try anything, so I just stood over him for a moment. It occurred to me that with a little push, he'd be flat on his back on the sofa, and I could walk out. But I had come with a purpose.
Flashback . . . that morning
When I woke in Harm's arms that morning, I was still deeply troubled by everything. But somehow my colossal problems seem to have been cut into manageable pieces in the face of Harm's support. He gave me a gentle push toward the shower, putting a pair of his sweat pants with a draw string waist and an old USNA sweatshirt on the bed for me to change into.
After the shower and warm, clean clothes, my senses were assaulted by the smell of coffee, and breakfast foods. They all seemed to blend together, but I thought I smelled toast and eggs and . . . bacon? Mattie was sitting at the table and Harm had his back to me, dishing eggs out onto plates.
"Good morning, Mac!" Mattie bubbled at me. "Coffee?"
"Good morning, Mattie, yes, thank you, coffee would be great." I smiled at her, feeling a little funny as it was obvious that I had stayed the night, and was wearing her guardian's clothes.
"I explained to Mattie how you came over last night to discuss a case, and we lost track of the time," Harm said to me pointedly, with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, thanks for letting me crash here, Harm," I said casually, picking up the thread of his comments. It wouldn't do for his ward to think we had spent the night doing anything more than sleeping. And while that is all that happened, knowing that we spent the night in Harm's bed probably would work against us.
"OK, guys, I'm off!" Mattie put my coffee down in front of me and then grabbed a piece of toast and started for the door. "I'll be home this afternoon, Harm. I'll be at the library with Dee this morning, and then her Mom is taking us to the mall this afternoon."
"Mattie!" Harm called, stopping her in her tracks. She turned at the door to hear what he had to say. "I want you home for dinner, OK? I'd also like to hear how much progress you made on your research project when you get home. And I'm assuming you girls are researching your history paper, not boys!" The last was said with a smirk.
Rolling her eyes, Mattie threw him a salute and went through the door.
"You run a tight ship, Commander," I smiled at him, sipping the coffee and picking up a fork.
Harm sat down beside me with a sigh. "She's doing OK in school, but I think she could do better. She doesn't seem to see the value in it. I know she has a lot of anger, and is dealing with so much. I don't want to come down too hard on her; I want her to enjoy being a teenager. But I worry that if she doesn't apply herself, she's limiting the options for her future. And, Mac," he looked to see if I understood what he was trying to say. "I want her to have a wonderful future. I want her to know that someone is there for her and always will be."
My eyes started to fill, and I lowered my head to eat my breakfast. Harm sipped his coffee and doesn't seem bothered that I haven't responded to his comments. Does he know how hard it is to hear him say this, when all I can think is how jealous I am of Mattie. Why does she have Harm, and I had Joe MacKenzie?
Harm changed the subject, but I wasn't pleased with this turn, either. "Mac, do you want to talk about what happened last night? What brought you here?"
I continued to study my eggs carefully. He made them just the way I like. They're scrambled, which you think is easy. But Harm knows I like mine somewhere between runny and too hard. He teased me once that I must be Baby Bear. All of my stuff has to be "just right" and one day Goldilocks will come to take advantage of it all. The memory brought a smile to my face and I forgot everything else for just a moment. For that moment, it was just Harm and me, sharing breakfast, chatting like it was any other day, like Paraguay never happened, and we were a normal couple like anyone else. I looked up into those gray eyes and was lost in that safe and happy world.
"Mac?" Harm looked a little bewildered, but he smiled faintly back at me.
"Sorry, Harm," I replied carefully. "I wandered for a minute there. I'm sorry, too, that I'm not quite ready to talk. But I really appreciate you being here for me. For taking me in and being my good friend."
"Any time, Mac, you know that," Harm said softly, concern again etched in his features. "Please know you can always come to me. When you are ready to talk, I'll be here."
"Thanks, Harm," I said with conviction. I had been thinking in the shower about what I have to do. I knew I had to deal with Paraguay, and I had to deal with "never" and I had to deal with Saddiq and his death. And I knew I couldn't do it alone. I'll had to go back to the doctor at Bethesda.
But there's something else I had to do. I had to end it with Clay. It wasn't fair to keep him hanging on when I knew he wasn't the man for me. I suspected, too, that being with him was prolonging the pain of Paraguay and the whole experience with Saddiq. I needed to put that behind me, which meant I had to put Clay behind me.
End of Flashback . . .
"Clay, I need to tell you something."
I stood in front of Clay's door, my hand poised to knock. I hesitated for a moment, gathering strength for what I knew I had to do. Finally, my wrist flexed and my knuckles rapped on the door three times. I heard a sound like something being knocked over and someone cursing. The door opened to reveal Clay looking like he hadn't slept, showered or shaved since I last saw him.
"Hi, Clay," I said softly. "May I come in?"
His eyes didn't seem to focus too well, but he stepped aside and allowed me to pass. When I came in, I could see that the coffee table was crooked, as if Clay must have stumbled against it. That would explain the noise that I heard from the hall. As I got closer I could see that a bottle of something had turned over and spilled all over the coffee table. It was the cana, the liquor I had mentioned to him the other night as being a souvenir from our nightmare in Paraguay.
I turned to look back at Clay and realized he was drunk. He'd been drinking already? It was only two o'clock! Maybe my way of dealing with the pressure wasn't terribly healthy, but this was even worse. Having grown up with a drunk, I knew I couldn't let myself get caught up in this. Best to just say my piece and leave. Unfortunately, saying it to a drunk might mean he wouldn't remember, and I'd have to play to the same audience again in a few days.
Clay staggered toward me and tried to put his arms around me. I put my hands on his shirt front and pushed him away gently. I then took his arm and pulled him over to sit on the sofa.
"Whatsa matter, Sarah?" he slurred at me. "Not in the mood? Come on, let's have some fun!"
Fortunately he was in no condition to try anything, so I just stood over him for a moment. It occurred to me that with a little push, he'd be flat on his back on the sofa, and I could walk out. But I had come with a purpose.
Flashback . . . that morning
When I woke in Harm's arms that morning, I was still deeply troubled by everything. But somehow my colossal problems seem to have been cut into manageable pieces in the face of Harm's support. He gave me a gentle push toward the shower, putting a pair of his sweat pants with a draw string waist and an old USNA sweatshirt on the bed for me to change into.
After the shower and warm, clean clothes, my senses were assaulted by the smell of coffee, and breakfast foods. They all seemed to blend together, but I thought I smelled toast and eggs and . . . bacon? Mattie was sitting at the table and Harm had his back to me, dishing eggs out onto plates.
"Good morning, Mac!" Mattie bubbled at me. "Coffee?"
"Good morning, Mattie, yes, thank you, coffee would be great." I smiled at her, feeling a little funny as it was obvious that I had stayed the night, and was wearing her guardian's clothes.
"I explained to Mattie how you came over last night to discuss a case, and we lost track of the time," Harm said to me pointedly, with a raised eyebrow.
"Yeah, thanks for letting me crash here, Harm," I said casually, picking up the thread of his comments. It wouldn't do for his ward to think we had spent the night doing anything more than sleeping. And while that is all that happened, knowing that we spent the night in Harm's bed probably would work against us.
"OK, guys, I'm off!" Mattie put my coffee down in front of me and then grabbed a piece of toast and started for the door. "I'll be home this afternoon, Harm. I'll be at the library with Dee this morning, and then her Mom is taking us to the mall this afternoon."
"Mattie!" Harm called, stopping her in her tracks. She turned at the door to hear what he had to say. "I want you home for dinner, OK? I'd also like to hear how much progress you made on your research project when you get home. And I'm assuming you girls are researching your history paper, not boys!" The last was said with a smirk.
Rolling her eyes, Mattie threw him a salute and went through the door.
"You run a tight ship, Commander," I smiled at him, sipping the coffee and picking up a fork.
Harm sat down beside me with a sigh. "She's doing OK in school, but I think she could do better. She doesn't seem to see the value in it. I know she has a lot of anger, and is dealing with so much. I don't want to come down too hard on her; I want her to enjoy being a teenager. But I worry that if she doesn't apply herself, she's limiting the options for her future. And, Mac," he looked to see if I understood what he was trying to say. "I want her to have a wonderful future. I want her to know that someone is there for her and always will be."
My eyes started to fill, and I lowered my head to eat my breakfast. Harm sipped his coffee and doesn't seem bothered that I haven't responded to his comments. Does he know how hard it is to hear him say this, when all I can think is how jealous I am of Mattie. Why does she have Harm, and I had Joe MacKenzie?
Harm changed the subject, but I wasn't pleased with this turn, either. "Mac, do you want to talk about what happened last night? What brought you here?"
I continued to study my eggs carefully. He made them just the way I like. They're scrambled, which you think is easy. But Harm knows I like mine somewhere between runny and too hard. He teased me once that I must be Baby Bear. All of my stuff has to be "just right" and one day Goldilocks will come to take advantage of it all. The memory brought a smile to my face and I forgot everything else for just a moment. For that moment, it was just Harm and me, sharing breakfast, chatting like it was any other day, like Paraguay never happened, and we were a normal couple like anyone else. I looked up into those gray eyes and was lost in that safe and happy world.
"Mac?" Harm looked a little bewildered, but he smiled faintly back at me.
"Sorry, Harm," I replied carefully. "I wandered for a minute there. I'm sorry, too, that I'm not quite ready to talk. But I really appreciate you being here for me. For taking me in and being my good friend."
"Any time, Mac, you know that," Harm said softly, concern again etched in his features. "Please know you can always come to me. When you are ready to talk, I'll be here."
"Thanks, Harm," I said with conviction. I had been thinking in the shower about what I have to do. I knew I had to deal with Paraguay, and I had to deal with "never" and I had to deal with Saddiq and his death. And I knew I couldn't do it alone. I'll had to go back to the doctor at Bethesda.
But there's something else I had to do. I had to end it with Clay. It wasn't fair to keep him hanging on when I knew he wasn't the man for me. I suspected, too, that being with him was prolonging the pain of Paraguay and the whole experience with Saddiq. I needed to put that behind me, which meant I had to put Clay behind me.
End of Flashback . . .
"Clay, I need to tell you something."