Chapter 17
An Upset Stomach

The mood in the car was upbeat. Harm and Mac were excited about their new relationship, as well as the idea of consummating it at the Hotel Del Coronado.

Even so, as the drove away from the park, both were hiding significant details of their lives from each other. Harm planned to return to active flight status, while Mac had a serious skeleton in her closet. Although that skeleton hadn't rattled in over a decade, Sarah MacKenzie knew that the matter would have to be dealt with sooner rather than later.

It was well past noon, and Harm reminded Mac that she had promised to buy him lunch.

"Lunch was conditional on your a good boy."

"I believe I was."

"You've been well behaved today, relatively speaking. Let's go and eat."

When Harm pulled into the parking lot of a vegan cafe, Mac regretted making good on her promise.

"I'd like it if you could open your mind to at least trying some new things," Harm asked. "This is cafe supposed to have some of the best vegan food in San Diego."

"A piece of celery tastes the same no matter where you eat it."

The café was owned by an Indian family, and Harm gave the traditional Añjali Mudrā. Most of the customers were Asian, including a few from Northern Thailand. By making using his basic Thai language skills, Harm quickly made friends.

"See how easy it is when you open up to people," Harm told Mac.

Sarah MacKenzie was not sociable by nature. She had few friends in high school, fewer in college, and none outside of the workplace. Mac's personal life was very close to the way Harm had described it in the park, which was why it had made her angry.

Harm began with a glass of Chaas, a salted yogurt drink, followed by Kadhi Chawal; a yogurt curry with rice and served with spinach fritters. Harm's dessert was Rasgulla: ball shaped dumplings of cottage cheese sweetened with honey.

Mac made do with a simple side salad and tea.

"You're not eating much," said Harm.

"I'm not very hungry."

Once we get home, Frank and I are going out and find the biggest bacon cheeseburger in La Jolla.

The food had been prepared fresh, and was excellent quality. "Lunch was really good. Thank you," said Harm.

"Don't mention it...ever."

"I'd like to make one more stop before we go home, if you don't mind,"

"Fine by me," and Mac paid the bill.


Harm parked the Chrysler in front of a classic southern California two bedroom bungalow, complete with a white picket fence out front.

"This is the house I grew up in."

Mac thought it was a cute little house. It had a good sized yard with a small flower garden- obviously well tended, as well as a patio with three chairs. The neighborhood was nice, and compared to the tiny two-bedroom apartment in the rundown area of Yuma where she had lived with her parents, it was a palace.

"I like the color."

"Yellow is my mother's favorite color. After they moved in, my dad and Tom spent an entire weekend painting the exterior. It was a scorching hot weekend, and by Sunday afternoon they'd drank so much beer that after they'd finished painting our house, they started painting the next door neighbor's house. Old man Thompson wasn't thrilled."

"He didn't like yellow?"

"Not on his window glass."

"Let's get a closer look," Mac suggested.

"We can't just walk up to the house," Harm insisted.

"It will be fun. After all, you said that I need to have more fun, and to be more impulsive."

A pretty blond woman in her mid 20's was sitting on the front porch and watching while a young boy about age 6 played in the front yard. When Mac and Harm approached, the boy ran to the front gate. He wasn't tall enough to look over the top, so he peered through the slats while his mother walked over to greet the pair.

"May I help you?"

"Good afternoon. I'm Harmon Rabb, and this is Sarah MacKenzie. This might sound odd, but I grew up in this house."

"I'm Pat Adams. It's nice to meet both of you. Would you like to come in?"

"We don't want to impose."

"Please come in," and Pat opened the gate.

"My name is Tyler. What's your name?" the little boy asked Harm.

"I'm Harm. It's nice to meet you, Tyler. This is my friend, Sarah."

"Hi Sarah. You're pretty."

"Thank you, Tyler. That's a nice name for a boy," Mac said.

"My daddy's name is Tyler," the boy said proudly. "He's in the Navy. Are you in the Navy?"

"No, I'm in the Marine Corps, but Harm is in the Navy."

Pat spoke up. "My mother in law's maiden name is Tyler. That's where the name came from."

Mac gave a sideways glance. "I don't suppose your mother in law lives on a farm in Pennsylvania?"

"No. She lives in a retirement community in Orange County. Why do you ask?"

"Just curious."

"Why don't you both have a seat on the porch. Can I get you something to drink? Perhaps a glass of iced tea?"

"No thank you. We just finished having lunch," said Harm, who noticed that Tyler had lost interest in the visitors and was back to playing with his toys in the front yard. "Tyler is a good looking boy."

"He's a handful, but all boys are at his age. Do you two have children?" Pat asked.

Before Harm could say a word, Mac spoke up. "We're working on it. Aren't we, Darling?"

"I suppose so," Harm said in a nervous voice.

"How long did you live here, Harm?" Pat asked.

"From 1963 until 1974. I was born in the Balboa Naval Hospital, so this is my first home. I have a lot of memories of this house. When my mother remarried, we moved to La Jolla with my stepfather."

"What happened to your father?"

"He was a naval aviator who was shot down over North Vietnam in December 1969. It's hard to believe that I haven't been back here since 1974, but I've been showing Sarah around my old neighborhood and wanted to stop by.

"I'm glad that you did. We also have a Vietnam connection. My father in law, served in Vietnam. He was an aviation boatswain's mate aboard the USS Kearsarge in 1964."

Harm's eyes went wide. "My dad's first combat deployment was in 1964 aboard the Kearsarge."

"My father in law was a 'Hookup Man' on the catapult. His name was Brent Adams. He died from lung cancer last year.""

"I'm sorry. I know it's a long shot, but I'll ask my mother if she remembers my dad mentioning him."

"Big Ty, that's my husband, would certainly be interested. He's an operations specialist on the USS Ticonderoga, a guided missile cruiser."

Bells and whistles began blaring inside Mac's head. A pretty blond wife named Pat with husband in the navy, their 6-year-old son who is named after his father and his grandmother...and now the names of the two ships.

It could all be a coincidence, but Mac didn't believe in them.

"Harm, we need to shove off," Mac said.

"Wouldn't you like to come inside and take a look around?" asked Pat. "I'd like to hear what the house used to look like."

"I'm sorry, but we have an important appointment," Mac insisted.

"Let me give you our email address," and Pat went inside to get a pad and paper.

Harm was confused. "What's going on? You wanted to come here, and now you're in a rush to leave."

"Don't you see it?"

"See what?"

Before Mac could answer, Pat returned to the porch. "You obviously know the street address, but here is our email and our phone number."

"Thank you." Harm removed a business card from his wallet. "This is my email along with my office number, and my cell phone number."

Pat looked at the card. "I didn't know that you were in the JAG Corps." She turned to Mac. "Are you also a lawyer, Sarah?"

"Yes, I am. Harm, we really need to get moving."

"My husband always says to never argue with a Marine."

"Sage advice," replied Harm, who followed Mac to the gate.

"Goodbye, Harm," said Tyler.

"Goodbye, Ty. Keep an eye on your mom while your dad is away. He's counting on you."

"Aye aye, sir. Goodbye, Sarah." Ty smiled at Mac, but she couldn't bear to look at him.

As soon as they got into the car, Mac felt ill. She sensed that something horrible was going to happen to another navy wife and her young son.

"I'm going to be sick," Mac announced.

Harm pulled away from the curb and drove into an alley, and then he held onto Mac's belt as she leaned out of the car door.


Once Mac was back inside the car, Harm passed her a bottle of water to rinse her mouth.

"I suppose the fresh vegetables you ate at lunch didn't agree with all of the animal protein you've been pounding down for the past few days."

Harm stopped at a local market and bought a bottle of sparking water to settle Mac's stomach, and she reclined the front seat and tried to rest.

When they returned home, Trish and Frank were in the living room, with Frank enjoying a cocktail.

"Can I get either of you something to eat?" asked Trish

"We've had our lunch," said Harm. "Mac isn't feeling well. She was sick in the car."

Trish immediately switched into 'mother mode'. "You poor dear." She touched Mac's forehead with the back of her hand. "You seem a bit warm. You may have a slight fever."

Frank spoke up. "Trish, Mac just has an upset stomach. Leave her alone."

"Just because nothing can survive all of the gin you guzzle, it doesn't mean that the rest of us can't get sick."

"I'm fine. I just want to go in and lay down," Mac explained.

"You need to be careful not to get a chill. Frank, I want you to turn up the heat. It is far too cold inside the house. In the meantime there are extra blankets in the hall closet. I'll put one on the bed in the guestroom."

"No, please don't do anything," Mac pleaded, and fled the room.

"The poor girl is clearly ill." Trish got up to follow Mac.

"Mom, sit down." Harm's voice was dripping with authority, which caught Trish by surprise.

"I'm only trying to help."

"But you're not helping. What you're doing is smothering Mac, and it's stressing her."

"Frank, I need a moment alone with my son," Trish said in a stern voice.

Whenever Trish called Harm 'her son', Frank knew that he was expected to leave the room. He got to his feet.

"Stay where you are, Frank. This concerns both of you," Harm insisted.

Frank took a seat on the couch and waited for Harm to lower the boom.

Harm spoke deliberately. "Mac and I had a serious talk about our relationship this morning. It got a bit ugly, but we came away closer than we've ever been before. Mac and I didn't pull any punches, so I'm not pulling them with either of you. There will be no more pressure directed at Mac. It's not fair to her."

"Guilty as charged," said Frank.

"I am by far the worst offender," Trish admitted.

"Never mind the blame game. Our new relationship means that Mac and I need to get out of the house and spend some quality time together. We will be staying at the Hotel Del Coronado tomorrow and Thursday."

"That sounds wonderful," said Trish.

"An excellent choice," Frank added.

With the details of his relationship with Mac out of the way, Harm began describing their visit to the water tower and the old house.

"That water tower is an eyesore. I'm surprised the city hasn't torn it down for scrap," said Frank, who excused himself and went into his office.

Trish looked at Harm. "Don't mind, Frank. He's always been sensitive about our old life. So, is the house still yellow?"

"Yellow with white trim, just the way we left it."

Trish smiled. "That was such a nice little house. Your father and Tom got so drunk that weekend that it's a miracle they finished painting it. It took a gallon of turpentine for them to remove the yellow paint from Mr. Thompson's windows. He never was very friendly after that."

Harm described the young woman living there now with her six year old son, and then asked about her father in law, Brent Adams.

"I can't say that the name sounds familiar. Of course your father served with so many men it's hard for me to remember most of them. You might ask Tom. The Seahawk is due back at Norfolk at the end of the week."

"How could you know that?"

"Vicki Ross keeps me updated on the ship's movements. Tom and Bill are friends, and deep down I'm still a Navy wife."

"In that case, do you think that dad would have gone on to become the skipper of the Seahawk?"

"Your father was an Academy man, and an Unrestricted Line Officer. He was destined for command. He'd certainly be captain of one of our carriers, with Bill as his XO, and Tom as the CAG. When the three of them were junior officers, that was the way they'd envisioned it."

"As the captain, dad would no longer be flying."

Trish's voice was soft. "Maybe it's the way that I envisioned it."

Mother and son sat together and chatted about the old house, Harm's Little League games, and his elementary school. The more they talked, the more Harm realized how little his father was involved in his life. Even before he was shot down, Harm Senior was either deployed, or flying with the Blue Angels.

"Do you and Frank have plans for this evening?" Harm asked.

"Chet and Clarice Dawson returned from Italy last night and invited us over. I was hoping that you and Sarah would join us, but it appears she won't be up to it."

"I have some paperwork to catch up on before we go to Coronado, so I will also be staying in tonight."

"I'm sure that you and Sarah will have a wonderful time in Coronado. Your father and I always intended to stay at the Hotel Del, but we never did." Trish had a far off look in her eyes and then she snapped back to reality. "Be sure to check on Sarah. And please offer my apology. I'd do it myself, but I've upset her enough for one evening."

"Mac has been overwhelmed by all of the attention you and Frank shower onto her."

"When I think of all that poor girl has been through...in any case, I'm glad that the two of you have cleared the air. I honestly feel that you and Sarah are meant for each other"

"I just hope that we can be as happy together as you and Frank."


It was 2100 hours when Mac heard a knock on the guestroom door. "It's Harm. Can I come in?"

"Sure," answered Mac, who had changed into her flannel nightgown and was laying in bed.

"I brought you some chamomile tea and dry toast." Harm set the tray on the nightstand. "How do you feel?"

"My stomach is still upset, but I'll be fine in the morning. Right now I should apologize to Trish for being so rude."

"Never mind that," Harm said gently. "Our next door neighbors came home from Lake Como yesterday, so my mom and Frank are visiting with them."

"In that case, don't let me keep you from visiting with your friends."

"The Dawson's spend every Summer in Italy, and they come home every Fall to tell us about it. I'd much rather be here with you. Now lay back and rest while I pour your tea."

After the first few sips, Mac felt a pleasant warmness spreading through her body, and her stomach began feeling better.

"How about trying a piece of dry toast?" Harm asked.

"No, I'm doing fine with the tea. Will you join me?"

"Certainly." Harm poured a cup of tea for himself and then sat down on the edge of the bed.

"That's not what I meant." Mac pulled aside the covers and then patted the space next to her.

With an instant reaction time that only a fighter pilot would have, Harm closed the guestroom door. Then he removed his pants and his shirt, leaving just his white boxers and undershirt.

Mac pulled the blanket over them and Harm pulled her close against him.

Harm began running his hands along Mac's body. "You're so soft," he whispered in her ear.

"And you're so hard," Mac observed. "I'm sorry, but I don't feel well tonight. Right now I just want you next to me"

"It's alright. We've got nothing but time." Harm began gently stroking Mac's hair while he laid next to her.

Mac rolled over and looked at Harm. Her huge brown eyes were sad. "Everyone in my life has left me. I'm all alone, just like you said I was."

"That was a mean thing for me to say. I'm ashamed I said it."

"Promise me that you won't leave me."

Harm took Mac into his arms. "I'm here for you, Mac. And I always will be."

As soon as he said the words, Harm felt guilty. If he returned to active flight status he would not be able to honor his promise.

"Turn out the light, and hold me," Mac said.

Harm reached over and switched off the light on the nightstand, plunging the room into darkness.


[A/N] Although we are aware of Chris Rangle, the existence of Mac's husband was unknown at the time these events take place. My thanks to all who continue to follow this story.