A/N: Here's the last installment. I hope all my American friends had a great Thanksgiving!

RED

Side D

Track 13: The Lucky One

January 1997

When I was a little girl, I used to dream I was a princess in a tower. My father was the evil ogre that kept me hidden, and my mother was the queen who grieved her lost daughter. Somewhere out there would be a prince who would finally ride up on his white horse and save me.

It didn't happen.

My dad stayed an alcoholic, my mother left me on purpose, and I sat upstairs in my bedroom, my "tower," getting just as drunk as my old man. My "prince" was Chris Ragle, a fellow drunk who got me out of the tower only to steal a car and wind up in prison.

I had a friend named Eddie who tried to rescue me, but he couldn't even rescue himself. He was an alcoholic like me, and he died the night we graduated after crashing his car into a tree. I was his passenger; I watched him die and then knew nothing for the next week. My uncle eventually picked me up from the hospital and I for the first time I was actually saved.

I sobered up, joined the marines, went to college, became a lawyer, and the rest, as they say, is history.

I guess one could say I'm lucky. I escaped the tower, escaped death, stopped drinking, and now I'm waiting in a rose garden for the JAG himself.

I've come a long way. My life, however, could have been much different, and I'm not talking about anything related to my misspent youth.

Back when I was in college at the University of Minnesota, I was a serious student, intent on graduating in three years rather than four. My roommate was much more fun-loving and did what she could to get me to go out. One night I actually agreed, and that's when I met Simon Malone. He was a photographer from New York and wanted to take my picture.

I know what that sounds like. Undoubtably you're thinking Simon was a predator and just wanted to lure me into his studio, slip me a roofie, and have his way with me. Well, you couldn't have been more wrong.

Simon was the cousin of my roommate Jill and just about the nicest guy you'd ever want to meet. He and Jill talked me into letting him do a photo shoot. Everything was quite tasteful, he gave me copies of all of them, and I thought that was that. I know that was naïve of me, thinking that a professional photographer wanted to take pictures of me just for giggles, and I was terribly surprised when Simon called me to tell me that a modeling agency wanted to meet me.

I honestly didn't know what to do. I had an obligation to the marines, and I knew Uncle Matt wouldn't approve…but then again, maybe Simon was truly the prince saving me from the tower. Without telling my uncle, I flew to New York on Christmas break, and then it was a whirlwind of more photoshoots, meetings with the modeling agency, and even job offers.

I'll admit, I was rather swept away by the whole thing—the camera flashes, all the people gushing over me, the beautiful clothes. It was like a dream.

For those three weeks, so many people told me I was beautiful, gorgeous, perfect. I'd never experienced that before. When I was in school, people flocked to the "pretty" girls but never to me, and I thought it was because I was ugly, stupid, uncool. I was terribly shy, and frankly, I was shocked that Simon would even consider taking my photo. But there in New York, I started imagining my name up in lights, my face on billboards. It was a heady feeling, suddenly being so dazzling.

I was all ready to sign up for the life of fashion and beauty, but then I actually looked around me. No one was gushing over me because they actually liked me. They liked my face, my body, but didn't care to actually talk to me or get to know me. I saw men and women snorting coke and I was offered that and so much champagne. I'm proud to say I never touched a drop of alcohol, nor did I do any drugs, but I began to wonder if I chose this life, how long would it be until I succumbed? And how long would it be until I succumbed to the advances of some lothario that I didn't even really know? Would I actually get out of it alive?

One night, I found myself wandering around the garden area of the big, fancy hotel where I was staying, feeling all conflicted and confused. I ran into an elderly lady who was also staying there, and we talked a bit. She told me how lucky I was to have this opportunity, which was the same thing so many other people had told me.

I was lucky. Lucky, lucky, lucky…and then I realized I hated it. It was all glitter and glam and it wasn't me. I could accept I was beautiful, but other than Simon, no one wanted to go any deeper than that. They only wanted to use me.

So, I walked away. I still talk to Simon, and he tells me that people still wonder why I up and disappeared. I had such a promising career ahead of me. I was a legend. Even Simon wondered why for a while, but one night he told me he was actually glad I didn't go through with it all. There were plenty of young things in line to take my place, and there was something too wholesome about me. That surprised me; he knew about my sordid past, so how was wholesome ever a term for me? I asked and he just hugged me.

Speaking of Simon, I'm overdue for a long conversation with him. I vow to call him as soon as this investigation is over. I need a little pep talk; I'm feel a bit insecure.

I'll admit, sometimes I dwell on my past too much and allow my feelings of unworthiness to take over. Even now, as I wait for Admiral Chegwidden and some naval officer I'm to work with, I wonder how I could have been chosen for this job. What made me think I could ever be the kind of lawyer I aspired to? What made me think I could advance this far in the Corps and actually get assigned to headquarters, even if temporarily?

I ridiculously contemplate turning around and running away, but then I see Admiral Chegwidden approaching me. A tall navy lieutenant commander walks beside him, and another officer brings up the rear. Here goes nothing, I think to myself, and then I step forward.

Time stands still as the newly introduced Lt. Commander Rabb takes my hand. He's so tall I find myself needing to look up to meet his eyes, and I can't tell if they are blue, green, or grey in the winter sun. I do know they are beautiful, just like he is. We smile at each other, the handsome prince and the beautiful princess, and I am ever so grateful I chose to be here in the Rose Garden rather than anywhere in New York.

Why you ask?

Because I know beyond a doubt that this time, I've truly met my prince. He's here to rescue me from my tower, and I'm here to rescue him.

I really am the lucky one. The End

Track 14: Everything Has Changed

January 1997

My eyes flutter open and I stretch, wondering at this heady feeling of anticipation that courses through me. Yes, I'm in the oddest situation; I'm here at Red Rock Mesa trying to figure out a way to save my uncle from, well, himself. The man stole the Declaration of Independence, and because some spook (State Department, my ass) knew he was my uncle, I was brought into this.

Someone else was brought into this too.

Harmon Rabb, Jr.

I met him yesterday in the White House Rose Garden, and the moment he said hello, everything in my world changed.

We've known each other all of eighteen hours, but already it feels like eighteen years plus a lifetime…and I want to know him better. I want to know what goes on behind those green, blue, grey eyes when he looks at me. I want to know what's behind that gorgeous (did I actually tell him it was 'nice' last night? God, it's more than nice) smile when he turns it on me. I want to know who raised this man to open doors for me, to pull out chairs for me, to be so utterly chivalrous.

Yesterday, I felt like a princess being rested by her handsome prince. Now, I feel like I've come home.

I roll over in my makeshift bed on the cave floor, and I see my prince is looking back at me. Yup, I think. Coming home. He smiles and reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. He's so cute, lying there on his side, his tongue poking through his teeth a little as he grins, and even though everything is messed up right now, butterflies, the beautiful kind, flutter in my stomach, I almost lean over to kiss him, but I know it isn't the right time yet. We need to get ourselves out of this situation, and, like I said before, I want to know him better.

"Hello, Mac," he whispers.

"Hi," I whisper back.

"Did you sleep well?"

That question makes me chuckle. "No," I shake my head. "You?"

"No," he laughs too.

"I'm sorry, Harm," I say softly, biting my lip and blushing a little. I'm suddenly overcome with guilt.

He shakes his head and brushes another strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't be, Sarah. I want to be here."

I have to snort at that. "Really? I don't want to be here and he's my uncle."

Harm reaches for my hand. "I want to be here for you, Mac."

Oh, my. Everything truly has changed. Someday, I know without a doubt, he'll be mine and I'll be his. Hopes I've had forever are being taken down and dusted off, and as I whisper his name, his beautiful, simple name, I can see all our walls coming down.

"Thank you, Harm."

"You're welcome, Mac." He stares at me with such intensity for long moments, and it's hard not to squirm.

"What?" I ask.

"I-I don't know, Mac. I feel like I've missed you for what seems like forever. Yesterday, well, everything in my life sort of…changed."

"I feel the same, Harm."

"You do?"

I nod. "Yeah, I do, Harm."

The man before me brightens like a thousand suns, and the wattage of his smile doubles that. It makes my heart flutter as I smile back. Oh, yes. Everything has changed. The End

Track 15: Starlight

December 2006

It's a tired old woman that makes her way up to her bed this night. I really should move by bedroom to the first floor, just like my grandson wants me to, but I can't. Not when so many memories of my David remain there.

It's hard to believe I've been a widow now for sixty-two years. I thought I would die the day those two uniformed men showed up at my door, but I had little Harm to care for. He was only four when his father died, and I didn't want him to lose both his parents, even if one was still physically living.

I did my best to keep Harmon from forgetting the loving man that gave him to me. Being so young, I knew his memories of him would fade with time, and they did, but I at least kept his mind filled with stories of how we lived, how we met, and how much David loved him.

I finally reach the top of the stairs and turned toward the bedroom at the end of the hall. It's where David and I first made love, and it's where Harmon was born two years later. I feel a pang in my heart as I think of the moment his slippery, wet body was laid on my chest, all limbs. His legs were so long, it wasn't hard to know why I constantly felt his feet up in my ribs. I lost my beloved son thirty-seven years ago, and if it wasn't for the grandson that looked just like him, I think I truly would have died that time.

So much loss in such a short time…some nights I still cry and rage, though I'd never tell Harm Jr that. He'd worry, and I know he's broken up about losing his father, and I don't want to add to that. He got the closure he needed with regards to his father, and I guess I did too. My heart flutters a bit when I think that as old as I am now, it won't be long until I'm with my David and our son. I'm not afraid of dying, not when I know who will meet me on the other side.

Once I slide between my sheets, I lean over and blow out the lantern next to me. I suppose it's silly that I still use an oil lamp to guide my way in my darkened home; one day I'll probably trip and burn the entire house down, but it too reminds me of my husband.

In the dark, my chest tightens as I think of the days after I lost David. My parents wanted me to move back to Rhode Island with Harmon, but the Rabb farm in Pennsylvania was my home. David's parents were home.

And so, I stayed here. My heart skips another beat. I love it here, and my grandson does too. He'll inherit the farm when I die, and I selfishly want him to live here with his little family. His wife is a Sarah like me, and they live in London with their newborn twins. Trish, Frank, and I flew out there two weeks ago for Thanksgiving to meet the little miracles they never thought they'd have. The girl is named Elizabeth, which is my middle name, and the little boy is named David, after their great-grandfather. I cried when I learned what they'd named them, and I'm glad I got to hold my great-grandchildren before I die. My heart is full, and I place my hand on my chest over it. It beats a little unevenly, something that is increasingly common these days. As I bet you can guess, I didn't tell my grandson about it. He'd only worry, and he's spent the last nine months worrying more than he ever has before about his wife and children.

I'm growing sleepy now, but I indulge in a little remembering. Tonight I think about when I met David in my hometown of Newport, Rhode Island. He was dashing, with blond hair and blue eyes, and I was instantly smitten by his smile, the same smile his son and grandson inherited. It was a warm night in July in the year 1936…

July 1936

"Sarah, your lipstick is fine. Quit fussing!"

"Just give me a minute, Marjorie. I want it to look perfect."

"It is perfect, and don't call me Marjorie."

Sarah Sullivan turned away from the mirror after fluffing her nearly black hair. "It's your name. What am I supposed to call you?"

Her red-haired friend frowned, and then she laughed. "Marjorie, I guess. I don't really like Marge."

"How 'bout Midge," Sarah suggested.

"Isn't that a nickname for Margaret?"

"Probably. But Margaret and Marjorie are close, and I like it."

Marjorie thought for a moment, and then her face lit up in a broad grin. "I like it too."

"Good," Sarah said and linked her arm threw the newly coined Midge. "Now, let's go for a walk on the boardwalk."

This was a rare outing for the seventeen almost-eighteen-year-old Sarah. Her parents, who remained fairly affluent during the trying times of the last several years, were very protective. Luckily, they thought highly of Marjorie, Sarah's studious friend, and surely Marjorie's steady beau would look out for them.

What Sarah's parents didn't know was that Marjorie had broken it off with the young Harrison James a month ago, and Sarah had no intention of telling them. She was young and beautiful and deserved to have a little fun.

Midge and Sarah walked the length of the boardwalk, watching the people while listening to the gulls as they flew overhead. There were some older couples, families with children, and even some of the navy men that were stationed nearby. Truthfully, men in uniform made her swoon. All night she'd dreamt about being swept off her feet by one of them, preferably one that was tall, dark, and handsome.

They'd been walking around for about a half hour when Sarah's heel caught in the space between one of the slats of the walk. She pitched forward, knowing she was about to destroy the pretty dress she'd made for herself, and cursed to herself. She braced herself for the fall, but then was caught up in strong arms.

"Sarah, are you okay?" she heard Midge ask as her rescuer helped her to stand upright again. Sarah nodded, but inwardly wondered if this was the moment—the moment she'd meet her handsome officer. She looked up, up, and with disappointment, she realized the man who still held onto her elbows was blond. She was about to thank him and move on when the young man smiled…and Sarah Sullivan fell in love in an instant. His blue eyes were bright like cornflowers, the corners of them crinkling adorably. She smiled back, her entire world suddenly taken up by this beautiful man.

"I'm David. David Rabb."

"Sarah…um, I'm Sarah Su—Su—"

She heard Midge laugh in the background. "Sullivan. Sarah Sullivan."

David's smile broadened. "Well, hello, Sarah Sullivan."

Sarah blushed. "Hello, David Rabb." She realized David was still holding onto her. She looked down at his hands on her arms and he abruptly drew them back.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Sarah. I didn't realize—"

"It's okay, David. I liked them there." Sarah clapped her hand over mouth and her blush deepened and then all four of them were laughing. Four of them, because David had a friend…a friend who appeared to be smitten with Midge.

David politely introduced his friend to the girls, although Sarah was sure Midge already knew his name was James Boone.

Soon the four young people were walking down the boardwalk once again, and shortly thereafter, the boys bought the girls sodas, and they spent the next hour getting to know each other. David was from a farm in Pennsylvania and Jim, as he was called, was from North Carolina. David had four younger sisters, and Sarah could tell he missed them. Sarah and Midge told their new beaus about their life in Newport, and as the sun started to set, they decided to find someplace to dance.

Unfortunately, there were no such activities going on. Disappointed, the four of them tried to think of something else to do, and that's when David saw the yacht club all lit up. There was obviously a party going on, and David suddenly grabbed her hand and started to pull her along toward it.

"David! We can't go there!" she cried, even as she giggled.

"Yes, we can!" he shouted back, and then they were all running toward the club.

Unfortunately for Jim and Midge, they were caught immediately, but with a wave from Midge, Sarah knew she and David should use their misfortune for a distraction. It worked, and before they knew it, she and David were dancing under a ceiling lit with hundreds of lights. It was like starlight, and Sarah felt like she herself was made of the same. Everyone around them was dressed to the nines and the music was marvelous. She'd never been so happy.

It took longer than they thought it would for them to get kicked out of the party, even though they tried to convince everyone they were a duchess and a prince that had fallen on hard times. No one believed them, but they both saw several people grinning at the handsome young couple. Those people obviously knew what love looked like.

Minutes later, Sarah and David walked along the beach barefoot, David holding both their shoes. They eventually came across a large, flat rock, and David dropped the shoes and pulled her up on it.

"Sarah," he said. "Marry me."

Sarah's mouth dropped open in shock. She wasn't expecting that, but one glance into his beautiful blue eyes told her he was sincere.

"Please, Sarah. I love you."

It was an easy thing then for Sarah to throw herself in his arms and tell him yes. She told him she loved him too, and it didn't matter than they'd only known each other for six hours.

Sadly, the starlit night couldn't continue on with such joy. David reluctantly told her he had to get back to base soon, so if he was going to take her home, they'd better leave now. That's when Sarah started to panic. Her parents would never approve of her marrying someone in the navy. They'd never approve of her marrying someone she just met. They'd never approve of David, period. David was a farm boy, and her parents were as citified as they came. She started to cry.

"Sarah, Sarah, Sarah, sweetheart, don't cry. Let's not worry about things you can't change, he said. "I have a proper leave in two weeks. Let's get married then. We can get married at the farm."

Sarah sniffled. "You're talking crazy, David. My parents won't want that."

"Well, what do you want, Sarah?"

Sarah looked up at the sky. It was a carpet of stars, and she thought they'd never shined brighter.

"Sarah?"

Sarah turned toward David. "I want to marry you."

And so, she did.

December 2006

I smile in the dark. David and I did, in fact, get married on his parents' farm, exactly three weeks after we met. My mother was mortified by the whole thing, but it turned out my father was a bit of a romantic and I could tell that contrary to my fears he wouldn't approve of David, he was actually quite impressed. He convinced my mother to go along with it, and, with Midge and Jim standing up for us, we said our vows on a little hill behind the house that now belongs to me.

After David died, my in-laws told me I would always have a place on the farm, and when they died years later, they left the farm to me and Harmon. David's sisters had all married and with the exception of one, had all left the state. I was overwhelmed with their generosity. I loved the farm and I never considered going back to Rhode Island.

The air feels a bit heavy tonight, and it's hard to keep my eyes open. I need a good long sleep, so I settle in and listen to the music from the radio on my nightstand. I always turn it on before I go to sleep. It's comforting as my thoughts turn back to the night we snuck into that yacht club party. I could never remember the song that was playing, but suddenly it comes through the speakers. I smile even as tears flow from my eyes as I remember my David telling me we should have ten kids and teach them how to dream and to wish on the stars. We only managed to have one to my regret, but at least my Harmon lived long enough to give Trish my grandson.

The air grows even thicker in here and I think I should get up and open a window despite the cold. It's getting hard to breathe, but when I try to sit up, I can't. I must fall asleep then, because I'm already dreaming about my David…

"You're not dreaming, Sarah."

"I'm not?"

"No, sweetheart, you're not. You're finally here with me."

"David?"

"Yes, my love. You're home."

My handsome young husband is pulling me toward him, and when I look down, I'm in the dress I was wearing the night we met. David's lips on mine feel the same as they always did, and his body feels the same as I wrap my arms around him. He holds me for long moments, but a thought makes me lean away from him. "Harmon?"

"I'm here, Mom."

"Oh, my," I breathe, and the air around us is filled with starlight.

Track 16: Begin Again

January 2006

I take a deep breath as I take a last look in the mirror. My hair is short again, like it was before my last year at headquarters, and I enjoy running my fingers through the short locks. I check my makeup, and though I don't know if I'm entirely satisfied, I decide it's good enough. Now, it's time to put on my shoes and think to myself that my date is the only one who never minded when I wore high heels. None of the others liked it, but I did, so I wore them anyway.

I lock the door behind me and get in my 'vette, my heart fluttering in my chest at where I'm about to go and whom I'm about to meet. I'm nervous; I haven't been on a date since I've been here in San Diego, and the last months have been so hard. No one would know it to look at me because I'm still ever the stoic, strong marine, but I know it.

Leaving him broke my heart. We couldn't make it work. I loved him, but in the end, it was to no avail. I was left broken, and I arrived in San Diego with a shroud of grief around me.

I always wondered if I would eventually run into him here. His parents live in La Jolla, so perhaps during a visit home we'd see each other. That hasn't happened yet, though I've heard from Harriet and Bud that he has indeed been back to visit them.

Christmas was difficult this time. For the second year in a row, I didn't do any decorating, and I spent the night in my apartment crying in front of the fireplace, remembering my accident the year before and how he'd held my hand all night. We should have gotten our act together then, but of course we fell back into old habits. I still pushed him away, and he still did what he always did—he failed to fight me on anything.

Before I know it, I'm pulling up at the café we decided on. Once I'm parked, I slide out of my car and look around me. It's a cute area of town, and he told me he's heard the café has excellent food, so at least this night will have that going for it. I walk in and glance around, expecting him to be late, but then I see him. Like a proper gentleman, he stands as I walk toward him, pulling out my chair out for me and helping me in when I reach our table. His actions are so automatic, and it takes me back to the years when Harm did those things, even when he was angry with me. I miss things like this; chivalry appears to be dead in San Diego.

"How are you, Sarah?"

For a moment I just stare at him. It's odd to hear him call me by that; I've been called Mac so long by most everyone that I almost forget Sarah's my actual name.

"I-I'm good. You?"

The man sitting across from me smiles softly. "I've been okay."

"Did you, um, have any trouble finding this place?" I ask, motioning around the room.

"No. My mom has been here a few times, so she—"

"How is your mom?" I don't know why I'm asking that. It's not like I've ever met the woman.

He seems surprised but answers anyway. "She's good. Business is good. The only thing she complains about is not seeing me enough."

"Oh."

We don't say anything for a few moments, and then the waiter is there taking our drink orders. Once he leaves, I look over to see him staring at me intently.

"What?" I ask, wondering if my hair is messed up or my lipstick is coating my teeth.

He shakes his head. "You seem shy tonight, Sarah."

"I do?"

"Mac, relax. It's just me."

A spark of anger flashes through me but I tramp it down. "Maybe that's the problem, Harm."

"Do you not want to be here?" I'm surprised he actually looks a bit devastated, and then I realize I don't want to be anywhere else no matter how awkward I feel.

"No, no, I mean yes, I want to be here, Harm. I'm just feeling a little, I don't know, awkward? The way we ended things…"

"I know. I think about that night a lot, Sarah. I think about what I could have done to make it end differently."

I shake my head and lay my hand over his. "I don't think there is any other way it could have ended. We both wanted different things."

Harm's eyes suddenly burn intently into mine. "I'm not sure that's true anymore. At least not for me."

"Oh," I whisper. The waiter is back again, and we place our dinner orders before we are once again alone.

"Mac," he says after a moment. "We're still friends, right?"

"Of course, we are, Harm. We'll always be friends."

"Good. So, why don't we just talk like the friends we are and save any deeper conversations for another time." He flashes me that flyboy grin and I find myself smiling back.

"Okay, Harm."

That seems to take some of the pressure off of us and over our food, we talk and laugh almost like old times. I say almost because I've actually never seen him so…relaxed. The way he throws his head back, laughing like a little kid, makes me all warm inside, and I can feel the faint tendrils of the love I once felt for him wrapping around my heart. I'm a little frightened now; I've spent the last eight months thinking that all love does is burn and end, and now…I'm watching it begin again.

After our meal, we walk down the street toward my car. I'm not sure I want this evening to end, but it probably should. I'm getting a little confused. The old feelings are coming back, more forcefully now that something has changed in Harm. The old Harm…was different. More guarded. I almost bring him up, the Harm I left behind, but then I realize this Harm is talking about Christmas at his parents' house. "Old" Harm didn't spend much time there, and "New" Harm likely can't because of distance, but for once I can tell Harm actually enjoyed himself. His mother and stepfather apparently have a tradition of watching certain Christmas movies, and Harm, not realizing I've seen every one of them, starts to tell me all about Clark Griswold and Red Rider BB guns. He's laughing again as he describes them, and it's once again the carefree laughter of a child.

Finally, I have to ask him. I grab onto his arm to stop him. "Harm? What's…I mean, you…who are you, Harm?"

Harm frowns, obviously confused. "I'm me, Mac."

"But you're different. You're—" I make some vague gestures with my hands.

"I don't know, Mac…maybe I'm happy for the first time in a while."

My heart suddenly sinks. I bet I know why he's so happy.

"Mac? What is it?"

"You're seeing someone, aren't you," I mumble, and I can see it takes him a minute to figure out what I just said. I can't look at him, though. Eventually, to my chagrin, he puts a finger under my chin and lifts it so he can look me in the eye.

"Mac, no, I am not seeing anyone."

"Then why are you happy?" The question sounds rather stupid to my ears. Maybe he's happy because London is such a wonderful place. Maybe he's happy because his command is going so great, he'll be the JAG in a few years. Maybe he's just…happy.

I wish I were. I guess I'm not unhappy, but I don't have this underlying effervescent joy that Harm seems to have now.

"Why am I happy?" Harm suddenly laughs loudly. "Great question, Mac. I guess my answer is that I'm here with you."

What? All I can do is blink at him.

"Yes, Mac. I'm happy to be here with you, and I want to be with you more often."

"You do?"

"Yeah, Mac." He pulls me into his arms. "I love you."

"But you said that before. What's different this time?" I say into his neck.

"This time I'm not such an idiot. I know exactly what I want. Eight months away from you has told me I made the biggest mistake of my life when I left you."

I draw back and bite my lip.

"I suppose it was too much to hope," he starts softly, "that you'd feel the same."

I shake my head. "It isn't that, Harm. I still love you. I want to be with you, but how do we make it work now? Our situation hasn't changed."

"Well, maybe it has."

My eyes widen in shock. "You didn't quit, did you?"

"No," he laughs. "But I'm going to."

"But why?"

"Well, I can't be with you if I'm in London."

"Don't quit because of me, Harm. Don't give it all up for me again."

"I don't see it as giving anything up."

"But I do. You'll hate me again. You'll resent me."

"No, Mac. No, I won't. And I'm not actually quitting the navy. I still love it. I'm going to take a position closer to you, which is what I should have done eight months ago. I looked into it, because the idea of a command really didn't sit well with me, but in the end, I didn't pursue it. It was clear to me you didn't feel the way I felt about—oomph!"

Harm catches me as I jump into his arms. My lips meet his, and then we're kissing wildly right there on the sidewalk. And now I'm crying, too.

"Mac, Mac, honey…"

"I love you, Harm."

"I love you too!" he answers back.

We laugh and kiss and hold each other for several more minutes and then Harm has me follow him to his parents' house. I meet Trish and Frank for the first time, and they're so amazing. Six months later, Harm and I are married, he's stationed nearby, and we're so happy. I have a little surprise for him tonight, something we've both wanted for so long, and life keeps getting better and better.

Six months ago, I'd spent the previous eight months thinking all love does is break end, but on one special Wednesday in a little café, I watched it begin again.

End Side D

End RED