I appreciate all of those who continue to read this story. Updates are no longer as often as I'd like, but now that the shooting ranges in central Florida have reopened, I'd rather be standing on the firing line during the week rather than sitting at my keyboard.
Chapter 23
Tacos and Talk
1105 PDT
Thursday, 15 October, 1998
El Caballito Mexican Restaurant
San Diego, CA
During their drive to the restaurant, Mac had seemed relaxed and was upbeat. This came as a relief to Harm, who was afraid that she was still worried about Frank.
The lunch hour rush was still an hour away, so Harm easily found a parking spot. As he moved to get out of the car, Mac caught hold of his arm.
"Harm, what I said to you this morning in the hotel room about you not being a good son...I'm sorry. You're a wonderful son."
"Thank you. I suppose that we've both said things over the past few days which we regret."
"You calling Frank 'dad', certainly wasn't among them. It meant the world to him."
"It was long overdue," Harm admitted. "I should have said it after we both came home from Thailand."
"Frank told me what happened in Vietnam." Mac saw the look on Harm's face and quickly added, "Don't be angry with Frank. I had to force it out of him."
"It's alright. After all, not many people can stand up to your cross examination. In truth, I didn't want Frank going with me to Thailand. I felt that he was only coming along to spy, and to send reports back to my mother."
Mac wanted to ask about Bian, the Vietnamese girl who had died at Harm's feet. Did he love her? If Bian hadn't been killed, would he have gone back to Vietnam for her?
Mac had so many questions, but their relationship was in a delicate stage.
"When I managed to make my way back to Thailand from Laos, I was out of my head with fever much of the time. Frank stayed with me around the clock and nursed me back to health. I can remember him sitting at the edge of my bed, pleading with me to eat a spoon full of soup."
"Frank loves you, Harm. You're his son." Mac leaned across the seat and kissed him.
"What was that for?"
"For sharing some of your personal life with me, but mostly for sharing your feelings about Frank."
"I was wrong about Frank. I was wrong about him from the day I met him." Harm admitted. "Let's go in and have lunch. I'm going to have a couple of beers, if you don't mind."
"Harm, I've told you dozens of times that I don't care if you drink. But for god sake, don't order anything with an umbrella or fruit," Mac teased.
El Caballito's interior was exactly what a Mexican restaurant was expected to look like: Terra Cotta tile flooring, and stucco adobe walls painted in red, red-orange, and orange and green to stimulate the appetite.
The strategy worked because Mac was hungry. The patio was open, and since it was a pleasant morning, Mac wanted to sit outside.
Their server was a pretty Hispanic girl with long-straight black hair and dark brown eyes. She brought water and tortilla chips and salsa to the table, and handed Harm and Mac their menus. "Something from the bar?"
"I'll have a Pacifico, with lime," said Harm. He was friendly with the girl, but made a point not to smile at her too much.
Mac noticed Harm's restrained smile. The trip to the park continues paying dividends.
"I'll have iced tea with lemon on the side, and bring us the appetizer sampler," Mac told their server.
"I'll be right back," she answered.
Mac looked over the restaurant's extensive menu. "What's the specialty here?" she asked Harm.
"Frank eats here quite often and he raves about the shrimp tacos."
Their waitress returned with their drinks and took their orders: Tortilla soup and a Chile-cheese relleno with green sauce for Harm; while Mac ordered two shrimp tacos with a side order of beans.
"Those beans will be fried in lard," Harm warned.
"I hope so."
"It's your call. After all, they're your arteries."
"Speaking of calls, I need to call Tina and set up lunch for Saturday."
"Do you still want to do lunch?" asked Harm.
"Of course. What time is good?
"1100 would be fine. That should get us back at the house well before my mom and Frank come home."
"I'm looking forward to lunch with Tina. After all, I told you in the park that I wanted to spend time with your friends, and I meant it."
"When we get back to DC, I'd like to get together with some of your friends," Harm said. "Come to think of it, I've never met any of your friends."
Mac rolled her eyes. You could meet all of my friends in a phone booth.
"We'll talk about that when we get back home," said Mac, who was relieved when their waitress brought the appetizer plate to the table. "These look good. Let's dig in!"
1435 EDT
Thursday, 15 October, 1998
Office of the Base Commander
Naval Air Station Oceana
Virginia Beach, Virginia
NAS Oceana was one of the United States Navy's 3 Master Jet Bases, and the only Master Jet Base on the east coast with permanent basing for carrier tactical jet squadrons.
While still a young aviator, visiting the office of the base commander would have meant Tom Boone had been summoned for having committed some egregious violation of military discipline. At this stage in Boone's career, he was on a first name basis with all 3 Master Jet Base commanders.
"Have a seat, Tom. It's good to see you," said Captain Tony "Tinker" Taylor, a tall lanky man with brown hair which was graying at the temples.
Taylor had been a "nugget" on his first deployment with Boone, Bill Ross and Harm Senior aboard USS Ticonderoga in 1969. Two decades later, Taylor was Harm Junior's squadron commander aboard the Midway, before and during the Gulf War.
"It's good to you too, Tink," replied Boone, who had changed out of his flight suit and into a fresh uniform which was creased from having been packed in his B-4 bag. Boone looked around Taylor's nicely furnished office with walnut paneling and gave a low whistle. "You've got it pretty sweet here."
Taylor shook his head. "When I didn't make the cut for CAG back in '94, this is where I ended up. I was passed over on my second review for rear admiral. Come 31 December, I'm out."
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Boone, who had been at sea and away from the Navy's shore based politics.
"Right now I'm marking time. Scuttlebutt is that you're up for your second review."
"Al Cherry is heading for NAS North Island as Commander, Naval Air Forces. You know the drill: Al gets his third star, and the rest of us scramble up the ladder."
"If that's the case, Buster's promotion to "Air Boss" means that your timing is right. Your 3-hard kills are tough to overlook."
"Don't read too much into that. I was just happened to be in the right place all 3 times," Boone admitted.
Taylor gave a sigh. "I wish that I could have caught a break. I have 2 Air Medals and a DFC, but I've never encountered a hostile aircraft. Not in the Gulf, not even in Vietnam during Operation Linebacker."
"That doesn't mean anything, Tink. You're a damned good pilot."
"Apparently, not good enough." Taylor passed Boone a beautiful black humidor. "Care for a cigar?"
"Can we smoke in here?" Boone asked.
"What's the worst that can happen? They make me leave the Navy? They're doing that anyway." Boone selected a cigar and the two men lit up. "At least I'm going out better than Bill Ross. Do you suppose he will put up a defense, or just resign?"
"It's hard to say. Bill was never one to make waves," Boone admitted.
"Not like Captain Nielsen back on the Ticonderoga. Nielsen is 80 years old, and he's still as mean as a snake."
"We always said that Jacko Nielsen was the most even tempered skipper in the Navy: he was always pissed off," said Boone.
"Didn't you have you had a run in with Jacko on Thanksgiving Day back in '69?" Taylor asked.
"I got an ass chewing, but I've had worse. Harmon Rabb saved my six." [Details can be found in "When Your Only Tool Is A Hammer].
Taylor smiled. "That cruise back in '69 was my first combat deployment. I was right out of the RAG. I naturally looked up to you and Hammer, along with Bill, Buster, and Grits."
"I received an email from Harm Junior. There's news about Hammer."
Taylor's eyes went wide. "Has he found him?"
Boone shook his head. "If he did, Harm would have said so. I'm supposed to call him over the weekend to get the details."
"Let me know what you find out...whatever it is. So, how is Harm Junior?"
"He's in La Jolla visiting with his mother...and the used car salesman."
"Trish has been married to Frank Burnett for almost 25 years. I thought you'd be over it by now?"
"I'm not over anything." Boone's tone was biting. He would never forget pouring his heart out to Trish, only to be told that she wouldn't marry him unless he gave up flying.
Taylor held up his hands. "Suit yourself. On the subject of Harm Junior, we currently have two aviators who have undergone corrective eye surgery. Both of them have passed their medical boards and are now looking to return to Group 1 unrestricted flight status."
"Is that possible?" asked Boone, who still had better than 20-20 vision.
"Neither of the two have succeeded in getting out of Group 3. If it ever happens, I doubt that I'll be here to see it."
"What are your plans once you retire?" Boone asked.
"Hunting, fishing, and a lot of flying."
"Flying Russian hookers in and out of the Middle East for rich sheikhs?"
"Nothing so glamorous. I bought a fully restored AT-6 Texan trainer this year. It's hangered at Chesapeake Regional."
Boone gave a respectful nod. "Nice. How much did that set you back?"
"More than Cassie and I spent on our first house. Cassie loves to fly, so we'll get plenty use out of it. In the meantime we rent it out to movie and TV studios."
"It sounds like a nice racket."
"It was Cassie's idea. It doesn't hurt to be married to a financial planner. You and I can take the Texan up while you're staying with us."
"I'd like that," said Boone, who had qualified in the later T-28 Trojan.
"I'll call the field and set it up for Saturday morning at 0930."
"Great. And thanks for letting me stay at your house until I head to DC," Boone said.
"You know that you're always welcome. By the way, Cassie has a big dinner planned for Sunday. Bill and Vicki Ross are invited."
"It's always entertaining to see how long Vicki Ross can remain sober," Boone deadpanned.
"No comment," said Taylor. "I should warn you that and Cassie is also inviting one of her girlfriends."
Boone frowned. "Is she a financial planner?"
"That, or an investment banker, or a stockbroker, or a CPA. Hell, she might be on the board of governors of the Federal Reserve for all I know. What I do know is that Cassie's girlfriends have plenty of money, and all of them are nice looking...although I never said that."
"I read you loud and clear."
Boone and Taylor spent the remainder of the afternoon talking about old friends and old times.
By the time he'd stubbing out his second cigar, Tom Boone realized that not only was he running out of old Navy friends, he was quite possibly running out of time in the Navy.
Thursday, 15 October, 1998
1135 PDT
Room 305
The San Diego Cardiac Center
San Diego, CA
Trish was in the washroom when the nurses aid, a young woman in her early 20's with a cute nose, a short blond bob, and big blue eyes, brought Frank his lunch.
"It's lunch time, Mister Burnett," she said in a cheerful voice.
"Great. I didn't have breakfast this morning and I'm starving." Frank watched while the girl moved the bedside table into position and then set down the tray down in front of him.
When Frank removed the cover from the plate he let out a low groan.
His lunch consisted of 1 cup of low-fat plain yogurt, 5 Melba toast crackers, a bowl of fat free, salt free chicken broth, a single peach half, and a serving of sugar free lime jello.
"My god. I've donated money to charities so that hungry people can eat better than this," Frank declared.
"I'm sorry, Mister Burnett, but this is the lunch which your doctor has ordered for you. On the bright side, there will be a snack later this afternoon."
"Dare I ask what it might be?"
The girl looked at Frank's menu card. "1 cup of skim milk and 9 animal crackers."
"Nine? Did you know that there are 12 different animals in a box of animal crackers? Which 3 animals will be excluded from my snack?"
A look of confusion swept over the girl's pretty face. "I'm not sure. 9 crackers is what's on the menu plan. It doesn't specify which animals you'll receive," she explained.
Frank broke into a big smile. "Well then, couldn't you bend the rules a bit and let me have an entire box of animal crackers?"
The girl hesitated. "I might be able to do that."
"And instead of a cup of skim milk, can you change it to ice cream?"
"It would have to be low fat ice milk. It's all that we serve in the hospital. What flavors do you like?"
Before Frank could answer, Trish emerged from the washroom and stared the young woman down. "My husband will be following to his hospital diet religiously. He won't require an afternoon snack, so don't trouble yourself by bringing it."
The look on Trish's face told the girl that this was a woman who should not be trifled with.
"Yes, Mrs. Burnett. Whatever you say, ma'am. Enjoy your lunch, Mister Burnett," and the girl fled the room.
"There was no call for that," Frank protested. "Why did you have to scare the poor girl? She didn't do anything wrong."
"I know you too well," Trish snarled. "If left to your own devices you'll begin manipulating the young women on the staff. The fatherly demeanor you work so hard at cultivating will have them eating out of your hand. First it's ice cream, then they'll be letting you order-in pizza."
Frank's eyes lit up. "Pizza would be great." Frank now pointed to his tray. "Anything would be great compared to this."
"That is a perfectly adequate and well balanced lunch."
"Maybe for a starving Ethiopian. I don't want to eat this crap."
Trish glared at her husband, her beautiful blue eyes having turned to cold steel. "You'll eat what's on that tray...and you'll like it."
Frank swallowed hard. "Well then, why not join me in this bountiful lunch?"
"Fine. I haven't eaten a thing all day." Trish sat down in the side chair, removed the cup of plain yogurt and the dessert spoon from the tray and then placed the peach slice on top of the yogurt.
"Thanks for leaving me with the lime Jello," Frank moaned.
"Lime Jello is an under appreciated delicacy."
"So are chocolate covered crickets."
Trish ignore the comment and began eating the yogurt. "This yogurt is quite good. I'll have to inquire about the brand so that I can buy some for Harm and myself." Trish looked over at Frank. "Eat your broth before it gets cold."
Frank reached for his soup spoon and then set it back down. "Can I ask a favor?"
"What is it?"
"Will you tell the nurses aid that you changed your mind, and that it's okay for me have my animal crackers and skimmed milk this afternoon?"
The nervous tension that Trish had been feeling all morning was swept away and she broke into laughter. "Yes, dear. I'll do that. In fact, I'll tell her to bring you enough animal crackers to ensure you receive a full set of 12 animals."
Frank sighed. "I'm sorry for causing so much trouble. Of all the times for this to happen, why did it have to be when Harm and Mac are staying with us?"
Trish placed her hand on her husband's shoulder. "I know how much you want everyone to think that you are the picture of health, but you have limitations."
"You see those limitations every night when we go to bed."
Trish shook her head. "Your heart medications are preventing me from sleeping in an empty bed every night." Frank was going to say something but Trish cut him off. "I've lost one husband. Missing or dead doesn't matter, he's gone from my life forever. I can't bear the thought of going through that with you."
Trish reached for the box of tissues on the side table. Frank desperately wanted to comfort her, but he was blocked by the table and he was attached to several monitors.
"Sweetheart, everyone is worrying I'll drop-over dead with my next step. I feel fine. Hell, I could play a round of golf right now. That is if I could untangle myself from all of these wires."
Trish leaned close to Frank. "Promise me that you'll follow all of the doctor's instructions about medications, diet and exercise...and that you'll stop drinking."
Frank nodded his head yes. "When I proposed to you I promised that I'd always be there for you and Little Harm, and that I'd never leave either of you. I swear to you that I will do everything possible to keep those promises."
"I love you, Frank. You are still the same kind, loving and giving man who rescued my son and I from a life of loneliness and uncertainty. Now, eat your broth before it turns to ice."
"Yes, dear."
As Frank ate his tasteless broth, he couldn't help imagining the wonderful lunch that Harm and Mac were enjoying.
1235 PDT
Thursday, 15 October, 1998
El Caballito Mexican Restaurant
San Diego, CA
Harm and Mac stepped out of the restaurant and into the parking lot with full stomachs.
"Those shrimp tacos were the best I've ever eaten, and the re-fried beans were amazing," said Mac. "Thank you so much for taking me here."
"You're welcome. Frank will be glad you enjoyed the food," said Harm.
Once they were seated inside the Chrysler, Mac reached for her phone. "Before we head out, I should to call Tina. Are we still on for the 1100 lunch?"
"That works fine."
"Should I tell Tina about Frank?" Mac asked.
"No. Tina knowing about Frank's condition won't change anything, and will only give her something to worry about while she's attending her night classes. We'll tell her on Saturday. By then, Frank will be on his way home."
"I suppose you're right." Mac had to admit that once again, Harm's sensible and matter of fact approach was the best way to handle the situation.
Mac dialed the phone number.
"Hi, Tina, this is Sarah MacKenzie...I'm fine, thank you. I wanted to touch base with you about our lunch on Saturday afternoon…Yes, we're still on. I spoke with Harm and he suggested 11 o'clock. Is that okay?...Good...No, I don't have a place in mind. What would you suggest?...No, I don't, but I'm sure that Harm will know where it is…You do! Well of course I want you to bring them along for me to look at...Great, I'm looking forward to it. Harm and I will see you at eleven. Bye."
Mac turned to Harm. "Tina said that 1100 will be fine. She suggested the Superior Sandwich Café in La Jolla Village. Do you know it?"
"Sure. It's on Prospect Street, and not far from my mom's gallery. I has an ocean view patio and a good selection of vegetarian items." Harm gave a quizzical look. "What is it that Tina plans to bring along for you to look at?"
"Tina has a yearbook from junior high with photos of you in it."
"Oh, dear god," Harm groaned.
"Why is it that you haven't shown me these yearbooks?"
"They are packed away. I'm not certain where."
"A likely excuse. So, did you wear your hair in a perm? Did you dress in flared slacks and belted vests? or maybe a vest suit with flared Herringbone pants? Sleeveless and sleeved pullover sweaters were in back in those days."
"Back in those days? Mac, I graduated from high school in 1981 and not 1971...although on occasion I did wear sleeveless pullover sweaters."
"I knew it! This is going to be so much fun."
"In the meantime, what would you like to do for the rest of the afternoon?" Mac stared at Harm in disbelief. "I mean besides that."
"The weather is nice, so I'd like to relax at the pool. There won't be many chances for sun bathing when we get back to DC."
"Did you bring swimsuit?"
"I brought along two, one blue and one red. I will model them both and let you decide which one I wear."
Harm's eyes opened wide and he broke into a smile. "Now, this is going to be fun!'
[A/N] Longtime JAG fans (which includes nearly everyone here) will notice that the accusations of sexual harassment aboard USS Seahawk take place a bit later in this story than in the TV show. Even so, nothing has been altered that is canon: Mac has returned to JAG from private practice (with the Admiral angry with her), and Dalton Lowne died under the same circumstances. Given the TV show's lack of continuity, I feel that this change is minor.
