Chapter 29
Drying Out

Saturday, 17 October 1998
0905 PDT
The San Diego Cardiac Center
San Diego, CA

During his many years at Chrysler, Frank Burnett had never been a clock-watcher, but right now he was counting the minutes until being discharged from the hospital.

Although anxious to leave, Frank recognized that he'd be back. His health was declining. He knew it, and Trish, who had checked out of the Hilton and was waiting in the room with him, also knew it.

The thought of dying no longer bothered Frank. After all, he'd been on borrowed time since he was a young boy. Death had granted Frank a six decade long reprieve, and he'd made the most of it. Harm Junior had been raised, and thanks to wise investing, Trish had the financial security needed to see her through.

Frank still enjoyed his toys, but material things no longer mattered. All that Frank wanted now was a grandchild. Sarah MacKenzie could provide that, but only when Harm took the sensible step of marrying her.

There was a knock on the door and a tall young man, blonde and bronzed, and looking more like a surfer than a doctor, stepped into the room.

"Good morning Mr. and Mrs. Burnett. I'm Doctor Morris."

"Good morning, Doctor," Frank said in a cheery voice, and anxiously awaiting the doctor to discharge him from the hospital.

"Mr. Burnett, I regret to inform you that we have a problem."

Frank's face fell. "When you say we, you mean me."

The doctor got to the point. "There was an incident in the lab last night which caused several blood samples to become cross contaminated and unusable. Your samples are among those which were contaminated."

"What the hell are you talking about? I want to see Doctor Beckman."

"Doctor Beckman is not on duty today."

"Then pull him off the golf course and get his ass in here!" Frank demanded.

"Calm down, dear," said Trish. "What was the purpose of those samples, Doctor?"

"Following a cardiac event, proteins, known as troponins, will begin to rise in blood levels and then begin to fall within 24 hours. A blood test will measure the levels of those specific proteins."

"Thanks," said Frank. "I'll skip over that chapter when I go to med school."

"Frank, don't be condescending. Continue, Doctor," said Trish.

"Mr. Burnett, I have a tech standing by to take new samples."

"More blood!" Frank thrust out his arm. "Why don't I just open vein?"

"You're making a spectacle of yourself," said Trish. Frank was upset, and justifiably so. Nevertheless less, her way of dealing with unpleasant news was by remaining stoic.

"In that case, I'll just walk out of here right now," Frank threatened.

"What you propose would be discharging yourself against medical advice," Dr. Morris said matter of fact. "I must warn you that if you leave the hospital under those circumstances, Medicare and your private insurance are unlikely to pay your medical bills."

"Doctor, my husband will be happy to cooperate," Trish announced.

The look on his wife's face told Frank that the discussion was over.

Doctor Morris said,"Mrs. Burnett, I promise you that when the new samples arrive in the lab, they will have priority."

"Can you give us a time frame? Our children are visiting with us and are leaving for Washington DC tomorrow morning," said Trish, who now considered Sarah MacKenzie a part of her family.

"The lab work should be completed shortly after lunch. Once I've checked the troponin levels, which I expect to find are within normal ranges, Mr. Burnett will be discharged."

Frank was about to speak up, but Trish cut him off.

"Thank you, Doctor. Before sending in the technician, I would appreciate a moment alone with my husband."

"Of course." Dr. Morris recognized Patricia Burnett as a strong willed woman who always got her way.

Once the two were alone, Frank pleaded, "I want to go home."

Trish's voice was soothing. "I understand, dear, and in a few more hours we'll be home. Once we're there, Harm and Sarah will join us. Then we will have a long visit before they leave in the morning."

"I'd like that," Frank nodded eagerly, and he sat quietly on the bed while Trish summoned the technician.


Saturday, 17 October 1998
1045 PDT
The Superior Sandwich Café
La Jolla, CA

Renown for its excellent food and an amazing ocean view, the Superior Sandwich Café was something of an institution.

Street parking in La Jolla was often a problem, but with skills born of taxiing an F-14 around a crowded carrier deck, Harm maneuvered the Chrysler 300 into a spot which seemed impossibly small for a full size car.

"What a beautiful location. Do you eat here often?" asked Mac.

"I've been coming here since my mother and I moved to La Jolla. Because the café isn't far from her gallery, during my school vacations I'd ride my bicycle here and meet her for lunch."

Mac pictured a school age Harmon Rabb enjoying lunch with his beautiful young mother.

My own mother would speed through McDonalds' drive-thru, buy a burger, and then toss me the bag.

"Once I began receiving my Navy allotment checks, I'd pay for both of us," Harm said proudly.

Mac was impressed. "A young man with assets."

"My mother gave me full control of my allotment money. I may have been the only kid in junior high school who had his own checking account."

It was a joint account, and when mother and son sat down to fill out the bank application the seemingly insignificant detail of the names Harmon Rabb Jr. and Patricia Burnett appearing on the same document lead to a confrontation.

"We no longer have the same last name! Why Patricia Burnett? Why not Patricia Rabb-Burnett? Why change your name at all?" Harm demanded.

Trish had failed to recognize the implications. Even so, she was not pleased by her son's reaction.

"When I married Frank, I chose Patricia Burnett as my legal name. You were made aware of my decision well in advance."

"And I think it stinks!" Harm spun on his heels and began walking away from his mother.

"Don't you dare to turn your back on me, Harmon," Trish snapped, and Harm stopped in his tracks. When he turned and faced his mother, her beautiful blue eyes were ice cold. "I had hoped that you and I could deal with these issues as adults. You've disappointed me."

His mother's words cut through Harm like a knife. Living in a new home and with his new stepfather, attending a new school; all while trying to make new friends, meant that his mother was the only stability remaining in Harm's daily life.

Disappointing her was the worst offense that he could imagine.

Harm wanted to crawl away and hide. Instead, he took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. Of course your name is your own business. You have my word that an outburst like this will never happen again."

Trish's tone turned sympathetic. "There have been a lot of changes recently, for both of us. I realize that much of it has been difficult for you to accept. Even so, you and I have always been a good team. I know that the two of us can work through anything."

Harm was struggling to remain composed. "You have a new life now. I'm not sure where I fit into it."

Trish took her son in her arms, noticing again how tall he was. "Darling, you are, and you will always be, the single most important person in my life."

Inside the rental car, Mac wondered what Harm was thinking about? "It sounds as though this café is a special place for you and Trish."

"Before I left for Annapolis to begin Plebe Summer, my mom and I came here for lunch."

"How sweet."

"The day before that, my mom and Frank hosted a going away party for me."

"I imagine that it was impressive," said Mac, knowing that Trish and Frank would have spared no expense on Harm's going away party.

Mac thought back to her own "going away" from Yuma to Red Rock Mesa with her Uncle Matt.

It was no party.

After appearing in court, Col. Matt O'Hara and Sarah returned to her father's apartment where Joe MacKenzie was seated on the sofa and ringed by empty beer cans.

Joe looked up at his daughter. "I see that the court didn't lock up your worthless ass. That saved taxpayers a few bucks, but now I'm stuck with you again."

"No, you're not. I'm leaving with Uncle Matt as soon as I can pack a bag. Judge's orders." Sarah dropped the court order into he father's lap then went directly to her room.

Joe popped open another beer. "Good riddance."

Having been blackout drunk for the past few days, Sarah hadn't done any laundry. She grabbed what few clean clothes she could find and stuffed them into a small bag. Before leaving her bedroom, Sarah added a few personal items: a photo of her friend Eddie, and a photo of her with her dog, Ruggles.

When Sarah stepped back into the living room, her father told Matt O'Hara, "She's a sneaky little bitch. You'd better check her bag for booze."

"Sarah, if you have anything in your bag which shouldn't be there, please go back into the bedroom and remove it," Matt O'Hara calmly told his niece.

"There's nothing in my bag except clothes and two photos. Please, Uncle Matt. Take me away from this nightmare," she begged.

"Get out, and stay out, you worthless little tramp!" Joe shouted.

"I'm going to pray every night that I never see you again." Sarah took one final look at her father and then walked to out of the apartment.

"Don't make this more difficult than it has to be," said Matt O'Hara who could scarcely believe that the pitiful man on the sofa had once been a squared away Marine.

"Matt, you're wasting your time on Sarah. She has been nothing but a disappointment. She'll disappoint you too," Joe McKenzie declared.

"Joe, there was a time when I had felt that you'd received a raw deal. I was sorry when you were separated from the Corps," said Matt.

"I don't need your sympathy, Colonel. You're no better than any other officer. Not one of you knows their ass from a hole in the ground. It was that god damned LT Walker who sent me out to that LP and got me torn to shreds. Fuck him! I hope he's rotting in hell."

"You're not the good Marine that I had thought you were. You're nothing but a bitter old drunk."

"Get out of my house. I never want to see you, or any O'Hara again, including your whore sister!"

"Fine. Now you can be alone with your booze, which is what you've always wanted," said Matt O'Hara, who shut the door behind him.

The drive from Yuma to Red Rock Mesa lasted several hours. During that time, Sarah began going through the first stages of alcohol withdraws, including rapid breathing, sweating, and vomiting.

Matt O'Hara had prepared for this by having plenty of plastic bags in the front seat of his pickup truck.

When the pair arrived at Matt's home in Red Rock Mesa, Margret "Maggs" Harris, a registered nurse, was waiting to attend to Sarah.

Margret Harris was a stocky redhead with green eyes and a kind smile. "Hello, Sarah. I want you to call me Maggs. All of my friends do. First things first. I need to give you a quick medical examination."

Sarah was nervous at the prospect of being examined. She looked like hell, and she knew it.

"Sarah, I've known Maggs for years. She's a retired Navy nurse. You can trust her," Matt O'Hara reassured his niece.

Following the exam, Sarah showered, then Maggs helped her into a simple cotton nightgown, tied back her hair, and put her to bed.

Outside the bedroom, Matt asked Maggs, "How bad is she?"

"Sarah is a very sick young lady. Her blood pressure is elevated and her pulse is rapid. She's dehydrated, badly undernourished, and certainly vitamin deficient."

"I doubt that she's eaten in days. I tried to get her to eat some soup on the way here, but she vomited it right up."

"Any idea how long she's been drinking?"

"Two or three years."

"What's her family history?"

"Sarah's father is a hopeless alcoholic and abusive. Her mother, who is my younger sister, ran away three years ago and left Sarah behind."

"That sounds like the recipe for a shit sandwich," said Maggs, whose language was often salty. "This will be a slow and difficult process. I must warn you that over the course of the next several days the girl in that bed will become someone who you may not recognize."

"I barely recognize her now. The niece that I know is a beautiful young woman."

"Matt, I promise you that Sarah will become that again."

48 hours after her last drink, Sarah began going through full blown alcohol withdrawal. She suffered from confusion, soaking sweats, and occasionally became disoriented.

When Matt O'Hara stepped into the room on the morning of the third day, Sarah was in bed while Maggs applied a wet washcloth to her forehead.

Upon seeing his niece, Matt's head dropped. They were barely 72 hours into what Maggs had estimated to be a 10 day recovery program and Sarah looked awful.

Matt couldn't imagine her getting any worse, but he knew that worst was yet to come.

Maggs motioned to Matt to take her place, and he gently reapplied the wash cloth to his niece's forehead.

There were no mirrors inside the room, but Sarah was aware of her appearance. When she recognized her uncle, Sarah pleaded, "Oh, God! Please, don't look at me," and she pulled up the bed sheet in an effort to hide her face.

"Nonsense. Your looking much better this morning," Matt O'Hara said in a positive voice. "Maggs tells me that you're making wonderful progress."

"I feel horrible. I want to die!"

"You'll begin feeling better in another day or two."

"Just let me die so that you can be rid of me. My father was right. I'm worthless!" and Sarah broke into tears.

"Don't say that." Matt O'Hara took hold of his niece's hand. "You're out of Yuma for good, and you have a new life just waiting to start. Your recovery is the first step in that new life. It's going to be difficult, but you can do it."

Sarah pulled herself together. "Yes, I can do it. I'll do it for you, Uncle Matt."

"No, Sarah. You have to do this for yourself."

Inside the rental car, Mac was desperate to clear those memories from her mind. "Tell me about your going away party," she said to Harm.

"Frank pulled out all of the stops. The backyard was ringed with GO NAVY banners and the pool and patio lights were changed to blue and gold. Frank commissioned a local hobby shop to construct a scale replica F-14, complete movable swing-wings and a retractable tail hook, which was strung over the patio. Frank spent so much time playing with the model that he ran-down the battery. When guests began staying late into the evening, Frank brought out his grill and we ended up having an all night pool party."

Mac broke into a smile. "It sounds like a wonderful sendoff."

"The following day, Frank insisted that my mother and I spend some time together before he and I left for the Academy."

"Trish didn't accompany you to Annapolis?" Mac asked.

"No. My mom has a difficult time with goodbyes. I suppose it's due to her saying goodbye to my dad at the dock in San Diego and then never seeing him again. Instead, the two of us came here and we had lunch together."

Inside the café, Trish looked across the table at her son and she could swear that it was Harm Senior who was looking at her.

Trish's mind raced back to the night that Big Harm had proposed.

It was only their second date, but saying, "Yes, Harm. I'll marry you!" was something a then 18 year old Patricia Ann Reed had never once regretted.

A wife at age 18, a mother at 19, and then alone at age 26 with a six year old son and her husband MIA, the struggles of being a Navy wife had seemed insurmountable.

Now, seeing Little Harm as a grown man made the pain and anguish and loneliness worth it.

Giving birth to my son and raising him to manhood was my single purpose. Nothing else that I do in my life will have any significance.

"Darling, I wish that your father were here with us. He would be so proud of you. After all, being appointed to the Naval Academy is quite an achievement."

"You were with me every step of the way. I doubt that there is anyone in the Department of the Navy that you didn't request a letter of recommendation from."

"In some cases I didn't have to ask. The members of your father's old squadron wrote their letters on the day that you were born- although I understand that all of them were drunk! Of course it was your grandmother who was responsible for the letter from Admiral Nielsen."

"A letter from a former Deputy Chief of Naval Operations certainly didn't hurt me," Harm admitted. "I wish that Grams had been able to come out for the party."

"Your grandmother doesn't leave the farm very often. Once you get time off from the Academy you can visit with her."

"I'm not sure when I'll get any time off. The Academy is going to be the toughest thing I've ever attempted."

"Harmon, you have faced every challenge head on, and you have always succeeded."

"I wish you'd reconsider flying to Annapolis with Frank and I. Our morning flight is not fully booked."

"You don't need me going along and fussing over you. By the way, do you have enough money?"

"More than enough. Besides, the Navy is going to be paying me."

"I remember perfectly well what Navy pay was like." Trish reached into her purse and handed her son a thick envelope. "This is just in case you need a few extras."

"I don't know what to say, other than everything I've done in my life was in an effort to make you proud of me."

"Darling, not a day has gone by that I haven't been proud of you." Trish reached across the table and took Harm's hands in her own. "You are going to do great things in the Navy."

"Don't you mean that I'm expected to do all of the things that Dad was supposed to do?"

"No, Harmon. Don't allow yourself to stand in your father's shadow! You are my son, and you will have a brilliant naval career of your own."

Mac spoke up for the second time. "Harm, I asked if the food here is as good as the view?"

Harm snapped back to reality. "Trust me, the food is great." Harm leaned across the car seat and gave Mac a kiss.

"What was that for?"

"For setting up this lunch with Tina. It should be a fun afternoon."

Mac gave Harm a wicked smiled. "Fun for me, because by the time I'm finished with Tina, I'll know everything that there is to know about the teenage years of Harmon Rabb Junior."

"Is it too late to cancel lunch?"

"Dream on, Flyboy," said Mac, who stepped out of the car.