Chapter 20
Hotel Del
Wednesday, 14 October, 1998
1310 PDT
La Jolla, CA
The outside air temperature was barely 70F degrees, but even with the air conditioning in his Chrysler New Yorker set to maximum, Frank Burnett was sweating profusely.
Frank had skipped lunch at the club with his friends in order to drive home. Frank had heartburn that would not go away, which he blamed on the ham steak he'd had for breakfast. Worse was the ache between his shoulder blades which he thought that he had strained while playing golf.
When Frank saw that Harm's rental car was not in the driveway, he gave a sigh of relief. Frank didn't want anyone seeing him looking so tired, especially Mac.
Frank had developed a strong bond with Sarah MacKenzie, and he was doing his upmost to be the strong father figure that she had lacked in her life.
Right now, Frank felt anything but strong.
Frank walked past the living room, skipped the kitchen entirely, and went directly to the master bedroom.
An afternoon cocktail or a cold beer would have been in order, but the damned indigestion wouldn't go away. Tossing his clothes aside, Frank stood under a cool shower for several minutes. After toweling off, he put on his pajama bottoms and flopped down onto the king sized bed, still tried, but feeling better.
Maybe he was pushing himself too hard, but he couldn't admit it; especially to Trish. Besides getting in the last word, there was nothing that his wife enjoyed more than an old fashion "I told you so."
Right now Trish was at the gallery, embroiled in putting the final touches on Harm's surprise birthday party. The planning for Operation Overlord could not have been as involved as Harm's party.
Frank smiled at his own humor. The pain between his shoulder blades had eased, and he was feeling a bit hungry. Even so, he was still tired.
Propping himself up with a pillow, Frank began reading Golf Digest.
There was an article on the Old Course at St Andrews, the oldest golf club in the world, and the home of golf. Frank had played at St. Andrews during a visit to the UK with the Chrysler Turbine Car, and vividly remembered losing two strokes in the famous "road bunker" at the 17th hole.
Frank set the magazine aside. Maybe he and Trish could take a trip to the UK in the Spring? Next year would be their 23rd wedding anniversary. That would provide the cover he'd need for a European vacation...and to sneak in a round or two of golf in the process.
The Twenty three years he had been married to Trish were the happiest years of Frank Burnett's life.
Frank admitted that there had been ups and downs along the way; most of the downs due to his tenuous relationship with Harm. Even so, Frank had worked through them. After all, Harmon Rabb Jr. was his son. Harm's father, Harm Senior, had had little interaction with the boy before disappearing on Christmas Eve, 1969. It was Frank who had been there to raise Harm Jr. into such a fine young man.
Don't speak ill of the dead, Frank reminded himself.
Once his indigestion had passed, Frank got up from the bed and went into the kitchen where he prepared a roast beef sandwich. He grabbed a cold beer from the refrigerator and sat down at the table to enjoy his lunch.
Wednesday, 14 October, 1998
1350 PDT
Point Loma
San Diego, CA
The Rosecrans National Cemetery was divided roughly in half with the view to the east was of Naval Air Station North Island, while the western side offered a magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean.
Harm pulled the Chrysler 300 into a turnout on the eastern side, and then he and Mac stepped out and into the cool sea breeze.
The lush green grass of the cemetery dotted with white marble headstones was striking in contrast to the stark, windswept semi arid landscape of Point Loma. "It's beautiful here," said Mac. "I imagine you must come here quite often."
"No, this is my first visit. I'm considering Fort Rosecrans as the final resting place for my dad."
"I thought that you wanted his memorial held at Arlington."
"There may be too many difficulties to overcome at Arlington. I spoke with Frank about his own father's burial arrangements and he suggested I consider options other than Arlington, including some closer to home."
Mac took hold of Harm's hand. "Frank loves you, Harm. He wants what's best for you and your dad."
"I know that."
"Would you want a view of the ocean or of the airfield?" Mac asked.
Harm smiled. "The airfield, of course."
"Why did I bother to ask?"
"When my dad ferried his new F-4 from St. Louis to North Island, Tom Boone was in the backseat. Not many aviators get to fly a factory fresh aircraft, so it was quite a thrill for both of them. It was also the only time that they flew together as a crew while in the same aircraft. At the end of the Ticonderoga's deployment in 1970, Tom flew the Phantom back to North Island. Sweet Sarah made it home...my dad didn't."
At the conclusion of a deployment, and when a carrier was within a few hundred miles of home port, it was customary for the carrier Wing to launch its aircraft and return to base ahead of the ship. Each squadron would arrive flying in formation, and upon landing, a crowd of family and friends would be on hand to greet the returning heroes.
Tom Boone had scored a hard kill on a MiG-21 during the deployment, but he was coming home without his best friend and he was in no mood to celebrate.
Boone flew straight in, parked his aircraft, and then went directly to base operations.
Boone's next duty assignment would be at Top Gun. Then, after a 6 month exchange with the Royal Navy's Fleet Air Arm, Boone would join Bill Ross as part of a select group of naval aviators to begin testing the new F-14 Tomcat fighter for carrier certification. It was a plum assignment; one which Boone knew would have gone to Harmon Rabb Senior...if Harm had come home.
Tom Boone's war was over, but unlike the men who flew them, Navy aircraft continued flying and fighting until they were worn out, or shot down.
Sweet Sarah survived the war, but neither Tom Boone, or anyone in the old Ticonderoga squadron, would ever see or fly her again. Sarah would undergo I-Level Maintenance and return to the fleet aboard the USS Ranger, in time to participate in Operation Linebacker; the most intensive naval air combat operation since WWII.
Upon arrival at North Island, Tom Boone retrieved his car from storage and drove to the home of Patricia Rabb, arriving while Little Harm was still at school.
Harm never knew what was said between his mother and his father's best friend, but Harm remembered coming home and finding his mother sobbing at the kitchen table.
It was one of a handful of times he'd seen her cry.
At Fort Rosecrans, Mac put her arm around Harm's waist. "Having your dad's memorial here would be wonderful. I'm sure that your mother would like having him so close."
Harm stared off in the direction of the airfield. "My mom has visited DC several times, and she never went to the Memorial Wall. Frank went there with me once, but not my mom."
"Don't read too much into that, Harm. It was probably too painful for Trish, especially with your dad MIA for so long. She may feel differently now that she knows that he's really gone."
"Before I decide on anything, I need to discuss it with my grandmother. Grams knows what to do in every situation."
It was obvious to Mac that Harm was not going to involve his mother in the decision making. Mac knew that Trish still loved Harm Senior, but she had moved on with her life. Mac was silently pleading for Harm to do the same.
Harm and I can never move forward until this is finally settled.
"Trust your own judgement, Harm. Whatever decision you make will be the best one for your dad."
The pair began strolling through the sea of while marble headstones with Harm checking the plot numbers as they went along.
They stopped when Harm found what he was looking for.
LTJG Howard Samuel Gibson USNR
December 17, 1944 - December 24, 1969
Beloved son of William and Alice Gibson
"Our Baby Boo"
"Baby Boo," Mac whispered, and then wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater.
"I can only imagine the fun that the old squadron would have had with Hoot if they'd known about that name," said Harm.
The infantile antics of naval aviators were lost on Mac; who didn't approve of any of it. "Did you ever meet Hoot?"
"No, I've only seen him in photos. My mom met him once or twice at the O-Club. The Ticonderoga was going to be Hoot's first deployment, and he was excited to be flying with my dad."
"From everything I've been told about your father, I'm sure that's true."
"When my mother attended Hoot's funeral, the Gibson's were already in their sixties. I imagine they're both dead now. Hoot was an only child, and since he wasn't married, it may have been a long time since anyone has come here."
Harm reached into his pocket, removed two pennies and handed one of them to Mac. In unison, they placed the coins atop the white marble marker.
Each penny meant that someone had visited the grave in the spirit of honoring the departed's sacrifice.
"I'm glad that we could pay our respects," said Mac.
Harm took Mac in his arms and held her gently. "I'm glad that you're here with me today."
"I'll always be here for you, Harm. Whenever and wherever you need me, I'll be at your side...even if you don't want me there."
"Mac, what I told you in the park about involving yourself in my personal life. That may have been the dumbest thing I've ever said in my entire life."
"Then let's never speak of it again."
They shared a brief kiss and then returned to the rental car.
"That's enough business for today. Now let's go to the resort and have some fun," Harm said.
"You know me, Harm. I'm all about having fun."
Harm groaned and shook his head. "Are there any Marines who aren't smart asses?"
Mac smirked at him. "There may be a few, but I've never met one."
The Coronado Bridge offered a commanding view of Naval Base San Diego, the US Navy's second largest Surface Ship base, and the home port of the USS Abraham Lincoln.
As Harm drove across the bridge he glanced at the ships in port, and then made the short drive along Orange Ave. to the stately Hotel Del Coronado.
Harm pulled up to the private valet entrance on the north side of the resort where their luggage was quickly unloaded and the car whisked away to the guest parking lot.
Harm and Mac were escorted through the hotel's classic Victorian style lobby and into a comfortable private office where they would check in.
"Welcome, Mr. Rabb," the assistant manager said. "We have the suite you requested at the Beach Village: a beachfront cottage suite, adjacent to the private swimming pool."
"We plan to walk around a bit before going to our suite. I'd like the windows of our suite opened when we arrive."
"Of course, Mr. Rabb. I will attend to it."
At the conclusion of the check in formalities, Harm and Mac strolled the grounds while their luggage was delivered to their their suite in the hotel's exclusive Beach Village; an oceanfront enclave of residential cottages.
It was a beautiful Fall day, but the offshore breeze had already picked up so that Mac was glad she was wearing a sweater. "Have you stayed here before?" she asked Harm.
"Just once."
Harm's answer was guarded. If he admitted to Mac that he had taken Diane here a meltdown of epic proportions would be imminent.
Instead of asking more questions, Mac calmly replied, "Then I'm sure you know your way around."
Harm breathed a silent sigh of relief. Sarah MacKenzie was normally quite intense, but she had been completely at ease today.
Their conversation at the park was continuing to pay dividends.
The pair continued their walk, passing through the courtyard and on to the main pool. Despite the cool weather, many of the hotel guests were enjoying the afternoon sun, and several were using the heated swimming pool.
When they approached the Sunset Bar and Grill, Mac's eyes lit up at the smell of hamburgers cooking on the grill. "I'm hungry."
"We have dinner reservations for tonight at 1930," Harm cautioned.
"That's four hours and seventeen minutes from now. One little hamburger won't spoil my dinner," and they sat down at a patio table.
Mac was true to her word. She had one small burger- with everything on it; including bacon, cheese, avocado, and onion rings, while Harm enjoyed a vegetarian chickpea sandwich.
"That burger hit the spot," said Mac. "I wouldn't mind having something for dessert."
"Why don't you hold off on dessert," Harm suggested.
Mac gave a quizzical look, but complied.
When they arrived in their suite, the windows and blinds had been opened as requested, along with the sliding glass door leading out onto the patio which had a lovely garden in the front and a private walkway leading to the beach.
Their suite had a kitchenette with a dining table where a chocolate brownie sat under a dome-covered dessert plate.
"A brownie!" Mac exclaimed. She lifted the glass lid and ate a forkful of the chocolate treat, which was gooey and delicious. "Have some," she urged Harm.
"I'd rather see you enjoy it." Harm seldom ate desert, and when he did it was fresh fruit and cheese.
Mac waved the fork in front of Harm, who relented. "It is good," he admitted, and then watched while Mac finished the brownie with relish.
"This was thoughtful of you." Mac pressed herself up against Harm, and when he held her tightly in his strong arms, her heart began to race.
"I want these two days to be special for you," Harm said.
Then pick me up and carry me into the bedroom. Put me down on the bed and then make love to me until I tell you I've had enough.
Mac caught her breath. "I don't need anything this fancy. Honestly, I'd be happy if the two of us were staying in the Motel 6."
Harm raised his eyebrows. "Really?"
"Don't get any ideas, Mister. Our luggage is already here."
Mac began exploring their suite; inspecting every detail with the eye of a Marine Corps drill instructor moving through the barracks.
In addition to the kitchenette and dining area, the living area contained a full sized sofa bed and a fireplace with a flat screen TV above the mantle. There was also a small office area with a desk and a chair. Their bedroom had a king size bed, as well as his and hers dressers and a walk-in closet.
The white marble bathroom made Mac's head spin: there was a full sized bath tub with a separate shower, twin sinks, and a private dressing area with large lighted mirrors.
After Mac completed the room inspection, they stepped onto the patio and into the fresh ocean air.
"Our room is perfect," Mac said.
"I'm glad that you like it. What would you say to our taking a walk along the beach?"
"There are only three hours and twenty two minutes before our dinner reservation. I'm going to need that time to unpack and prep," Mac warned.
Harm had the same grin on his face as the six year old boy whose mother had claimed was always up to mischief. "I've decided that tonight will be strictly casual. There's no need for you to dress up."
This was a change in plans, and Mac didn't like last minute changes of any sort.
Sarah MacKenzie lead an orderly and highly structured life. She planned her day a week in advance, and her week; a month in advance. Mac's life was scripted, while fighter pilot Harmon Rabb was not only impulsive, he was used to surprises, as well as making instant changes in direction.
MacKenzie, you might as well get used to it because no matter how much you nag, this is something that you will never be able to change.
"Okay, I'll play along," Mac said. "Let me get out of these boots and into my walking shoes."
Mac loved the beach, but growing up in Yuma meant that she'd never seen the ocean as a child. They walked hand in hand along the sand while going north to the boundary of Coronado Beach and NAS North Island.
"It was a lovely walk. I'm glad you suggested it," Mac said. The sun was sinking fast, so after stopping for a drink of water at Sunset Park, she reminded Harm of their dinner reservation.
"Let's head back," he said.
When they returned to their suite, the red message light on the hotel phone was flashing. "This is Harmon Rabb….I understand. I'll be there directly," and he hung up.
"Are we in trouble with the hotel detective?" Mac asked. "We haven't done anything...yet."
"I need to go to the front desk. You can take your shower and start getting ready for dinner."
Mac was disappointed. She was hoping they would be showering together. She gave Harm a long hard kiss before heading into the master bedroom.
By the time Harm returned, Mac was in the dressing area, wearing a robe and putting on her makeup.
"Are we being kicked out?" she asked.
"No, nothing like that."
While Mac continued prepping, Harm showered and shaved and changed into Chinos and a sports shirt before heading into the living room.
Mac emerged from the bedroom exactly on time, and wearing a Freya cream linen midi dress. It was a simple dress, but Sarah MacKenzie made it appear elegant.
Mac was surprised to find the table in their suite had been set, and an appetizer of shrimp cocktail was waiting for her.
"Dinner alone in our suite? This is very romantic."
Harm pulled out Mac's chair. "You said that you didn't want to go to a fancy downtown restaurant."
"You're paying attention to what I say? Our powwow in the park has paid off. I hope you're not disappointed that I'm not wearing the pearls. They really aren't intended for casual wear."
"We'll have our formal dinner tomorrow night. In the meantime you look beautiful." Harm gently kissed Mac's neck and then helped to slide her chair to the table.
An officer and a gentleman, through and through. I don't mind this at all.
Mac dug into her shrimp cocktail while Harm enjoyed a starter of Gnudi; Italian dumplings made with ricotta cheese and wild mushroom ragout, watercress coulis and topped with Parmesan.
Their server arrived and after clearing the appetizers he presented their entrees: a double-cut lamb chop with new potatoes and asparagus for Mac, and slow-baked acorn squash with couscous, orange-glazed root vegetables and herb salad for Harm.
After refilling their glasses with sparkling water, the server politely excused himself.
Harm and Mac intentionally kept their dinner conversation light. Neither wanted to risk spoiling the mood by entering into serious discussion on subjects which both of them knew would eventually be dragged into the open.
"The lamb was exquisite," said Mac. "How was your squash?"
"It was quite good."
While their server cleared the table the pair left to sit on the sofa. "Something for dessert, Mr. Rabb?" the server asked Harm.
Harm looked at Mac, who shook her head. "No dessert tonight," Harm answered. "We'll have our coffee on the patio."
"Of course. Will there be anything else?"
"That will be all for this evening."
It was cool outside. Harm wanted to light the fire ring, but the moon was hidden by low clouds and Mac preferred the subtle darkness.
They were sitting close together and enjoying their coffee when the moon broke through the overcast and rose in the western sky.
Mac got up from the couch and walked to the edge of the patio, her body silhouetted magnificently in the moonlight.
Harm watched transfixed as Mac extend both arms in what might have been a gesture of homage. "All hail good moon. I prithee, reveal to me, this night who shall my true love be."
As if on cue, moonlight burst onto the patio. When the light shone directly on Harm, Mac's jaw dropped.
"It's a sign!" She raced back to Harm. "Harm, are you my true love?" she asked, almost pleading for acceptance.
"Of course I am," Harm answered without the slightest hesitation.
"I want you, right now!" Mac took Harm by the hand and then led him through the living room and into the bedroom.
"Door open or closed?" Harm asked.
"Close it...I scream."
Harm's eyes went wide and he pushed the bedroom door closed with his foot.
