[A/N] Until now I have tried to keep the story as close to canon as possible, but now we must begin venturing into AU territory. Events may take place which didn't occur in the TV show (although most of us wish that they had).

The last chapter was well received. This demonstrates to me that the story continues to have a loyal audience. Although "From A Grateful Nation" is not a mainstream JAG "shipper" story (not by a long shot), it was never intended to be that. Every reader is important to me. I want to thank each and every one of you for your continued support.


Chapter 35
The Birthday Boy

Saturday, 24 October 1998
1045 EDT
Sarah Harmon Rabb Residence
Beallsville, Pennsylvania.

After nearly an hour of driving through the low rolling hills of western Pennsylvania, Harmon Rabb turned off the National Pike and onto an unmarked private road.

There was no fence or gate, just a metal mailbox which read S.H Rabb.

Harm stopped the car to collect his grandmother's morning mail, while Mac, in true Marine fashion, began scanning the area.

The land looked rich and fertile, and seemed to stretch on for miles. "The property is larger than I had imagined," she said to Harm.

"It's just over 170 acres."

"How long has your family lived here?"

"Since the before the Civil War. The land was purchased by my great great grandfather, Cyrus Rabb, and his two brothers.

"Was Cyrus Rabb a Navy man?"

"Infantry. Company E: the Washington County Invincibles, 12th Regiment, Pennsylvania Volunteers. Cyrus Rabb enlisted as a private and mustered out as a brevet lieutenant colonel."

"And his two brothers?"

"They died in the Battle of The Wilderness when forest fire swept across the battlefield. Cyrus Rabb and all of Company E managed to escape the conflagration, but his brothers were in Company F, which was cut off and trapped. Both men are are still listed as missing and presumed dead," said Harm, who slipped the SUV into gear.

It was a bit of a drive from the Pike to the main house; a large two story painted barn red and with a white roof.

"The house is bigger than I had expected," said Mac, who had pictured a simple farm house.

"It's been added onto a few times, but this is the way it has looked for as long as I can remember."

When Harm pulled up in front of the house, Mac went tense.

Mac was wearing comfortable jeans and a turtleneck sweater, along with the boots she's purchased in La Jolla. Harm had said that this was perfect attire for the farm, but Mac suddenly felt the need to make a better impression.

Harm placed his hand on Mac's shoulder. "Relax. You're going to met grandmother. You're not storming Red Beach-One on Tarawa."

Harm and Mac had barely exited the SUV when Harm's grandmother appeared on the porch.

Mac had seen photos of Sarah Harmon Rabb, but they didn't do her justice. She was tall with silver-gray hair, piercing steel blue eyes, and the sturdy build of a farm girl.

"Harmon, it's wonderful to see you again."

Harm stepped onto the porch and gave his grandmother a kiss on the cheek. "Hello, Grams, I've missed you."

"Happy birthday," Sarah Rabb added.

With the planning of his father's memorial service filling his every waking minute, as well as the results of his eye examination, Harm had insisted that his birthday not be made any sort of event.

"Thank you Grams."

Sarah Rabb turned to Mac. "And you must be Mac."

Mac had rehearsed this moment in her mind over and over again. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Rabb."

"Please, Mrs. Rabb was my mother in law. I want you to call me Sarah."

"Of course. Thank you so much for inviting me."

"I have been wanting to meet you for quite some time. I understand that you're a Marine."

"That's right."

"How nice for you. Are you a vegetarian?"

"No, I'm not."

Harm interrupted the quiz. "I brought your mail, Grams."

Sarah Rabb put the envelopes into the pocket of her apron without looking at them. "These days nothing arrives in the mail except bills. No one writes letters any more. Not even to their lonely old grandmother."

Mac couldn't help but to snicker at the insinuation. Ouch.

"Now, let's get off the porch and go inside," Sarah Rabb said.

The entryway led into a nicely furnished living room with a huge fireplace and an adjoining dining room with a massive oak table. To the right was a large staircase with a closet and bathroom below it.

The furniture was a mix of American Colonial, some of which Mac recognized as being antique and valuable.

"Your home is lovely," said Mac, who found the house surprisingly bare of artwork.

I have prints which would be perfect for these walls.

"That's kind of you to say. I'm afraid that after my son was shot down, I fell into a period of depression. When Trish remarried, I doubted that I'd ever see my grandson again. I let the old place fall into disrepair."

Mac was aware of the infighting that had existed between Trish, then a young wife, and Sarah Harmon Rabb. Once Trish had remarried it would have been easy for her to ignore Sarah Rabb, but Mac knew that Trish was not the kind of a woman who would do that.

"Of course I was mistaken. Trish insisted that Harmon spend his vacations here. Having him here with me raised my spirits. As for the house, it was Frank who paid for the badly needed repairs. Frank has been very good to me."

"Frank has been good to all of us," said Harm.

After a long pause, Sarah Rabb said, "Let's head upstairs to see the bedrooms."

The moment of truth, thought Mac, who was not going to settle for sleeping alone tonight.

Once they'd reach the upstairs landing, Sarah Rabb pointed out the first bedroom. "This was my husband Warren's and my room."

Mac peeked inside and saw that the room was filled with framed photos of Warren and Sarah Rabb, their son, Harm Senior, and numerous photos of grandson Harm Junior.

"Would you mind if I looked at a few of the photos?" asked Mac.

"Of course not."

Mac stepped into the room where a table held dozens of framed photos of Harm Junior as a small child. She picked up a photo of Little Harm riding on a tricycle.

"He was so cute."

Sarah Rabb's eyes lit up. "I have several albums with photos of Harmon as a young boy. If you like, we can look at them this evening.

"I'd love it," said Mac, while Harm let out a low groan.

Mac spotted a rocking chair in the corner. "I couldn't help to notice the rocking chair. It's beautiful."

"It had belonged to my mother in law, Mary Warren Rabb. When my husband Warren deployed on the Hornet, I rocked my little boy for hours in that chair."

Mac imagined Sarah Rabb as a young mother rocking Harmon Rabb, her young son.

"In the fields in frost and snows, watching late and early;
there I keep my father's cows, I would milk 'em early.
Mooing here, mooing there; here a moo, there a moo, every where a moo moo,
we defy all care and strife, in our charming country-life."

"I'm afraid that our carefree country life ended when Warren went missing during the Battle of Midway," Sarah Rabb told Mac.

"I'm so sorry."

Adjacent to Sarah Rabb's bedroom was a smaller room which held bunk beds. "This was originally the nursery, where I raised my son. When Little Harmon's Navy friends began visiting the farm I added the bunk beds. Navy men don't seem to mind sleeping in bunks."

"This room has more space than a nugget's (a naval aviator on his first deployment) stateroom, and it sleeps two instead of three," said Harm, who remembered Luke Pendry, Jack Keeter and himself crammed into a tiny cabin on board USS Seahawk

Sarah smiled at Mac. "It would be simple to change the room back into a nursery."

Mac's face lit up. "Did you hear that, Harm?" who rolled his eyes.

Mac had noticed that although Sarah Rabb had a friendly smile, it was not the same heart stopping smile that Harm and his father shared. Mac concluded that the "Fly Boy" smile was a Rabb trait which wasn't passed on to women.

Next was a bathroom, and then another bedroom; this one with twin beds.

If Harm decides on this room I swear that I'll drag the two beds together and lash them down on the deck!

"Frank and Trish always liked this room," admitted Sarah Rabb.

The hallway made a dogleg to the left and Mac saw a large bedroom with a queen sized bed.

"This room had belong to my father in law and mother in law. Now it's Harmon's room...on those rare occasions that he finds the time to visit me."

Harm detected the sting in his grandmother's voice. "Grams, I promise to visit you more often."

Unlike the other bedrooms, this room was completely made up. Before Harm could say a word, Mac announced, "This room will be perfect for Harm and I."

Sarah Rabb gave a sly smile. "You'll find the bed is very comfortable, and since the window faces west, you won't get the morning sun. Now then, would you care to rest before lunch?"

"Honestly, Harm and I have been in the car for hours. I wouldn't mind stretching my legs," Mac answered.

"That's a wonderful idea," said Harm, and everyone went downstairs.

As they walked through the surprisingly large and modern kitchen, Mac saw that the kitchen table had been set for three, and preparations for lunch were already underway.

"Harmon, lunch will be served at noon. Until then, you can show Mac around the property," Sarah Rabb instructed.

"Yes, Grams," Harm acknowledged.

"Mac, I hope that you like the farm. After all, it's going to be Harmon's some day."

In fact, Mac had already fallen in love with the farm, and with feisty Sarah Harmon Rabb.

Harm and Mac stepped out of the backdoor and into a fenced backyard. There was a chicken coop set off the right, with four hens pecking around on the ground.

"They're adorable," said Mac, who wondered if the individual chickens had names?

"There's nothing better than fresh eggs for breakfast. In the meantime, don't get too attached to them. After they lay eggs for a few years the older hens go into the pot."

Harm opened the gate, and Mac caught sight of the neighboring property to the east.

"That's old MacDonald place," said Harm. "They've been our neighbors seemingly forever."

"Old MacDonald's Farm? Are you making this up as you go along?"

There was no fence, only a long strip of flat land delineated by a series of poles spaced 100 meters apart, the first and last with windsocks attached.

"The flat strip of land runs south to north and serves as the property line, and as a runway for the Stearman. Taking off or landing over the town is prohibited, so if the wind is blowing in the wrong direction it can get a bit tricky, especially in the winter if the grass has a layer of frost."

"Is there any farming going on here?" asked Mac, who wasn't interested in air traffic control in the skies above Beallsville.

"The MacDonald's still grow truck crops, but from the time that I was a small boy we've grown nothing but alfalfa. It brings in a bit of money, and it makes Grams feel that she's keeping the land productive. That is very important to her."

"What types of crops could be grown here?"

Harm was surprised at Mac's sudden interest in farming. "Corn, wheat, oats, barely, sorghum, soybeans. Agriculture is an important part of Pennsylvania's economy."

The pair continued walking north where they encountered three outbuildings.

"The building on the left was once used to store tools. The building on the right was a stable. When I was a boy, my grandmother had a horse whose name was Billy. I rode him all over the county. "

Mac thought back to her own mornings spent horseback riding with her Uncle Matt while at Red Rock Mesa. "I had no idea that you could ride."

"I wasn't very good at it."

By now, Mac understood that claims of "Not being very good at riding," was Harm-Speak for, "I almost made the US Equestrian Team."

A two story barn dominated the outbuildings. Although giving the appearance of a traditional wooden barn (including being painted red) it was an all metal structure with roll up doors on each end and a set of wide sliding doors in the center.

Once inside, Mac saw a spacious work area with the large tools and machinery needed for heavy repair work were carefully covered and protected.

"This is where Frank, Luke, Keeter and I, restored the Stearman. Nearly everything we needed was on hand."

"Did Annie come along with Luke?"

Harm sighed. "Yes, Annie and Josh came with Luke. Annie didn't care for life on the farm. In addition, she and my mother were constantly at odds with each other."

The answer gave Mac a certain sense of satisfaction.

An old Farmall tractor parked in the corner caught Mac's attention. "Does this thing run?"

"It should. My dad once said that he would like to become a gentleman farmer, and that he'd need that tractor. Sometimes I think I'd like to do the same thing."

"I'd like that," Mac said quietly.

"What did you say?" Harm asked.

"I said I'd like to ride on that tractor. Can we?"

"Let me charge the battery. Then we'll take her out."

While Harm was attending to the battery, Mac continued exploring the barn and spotted a ladder. "What's up there?"

"That's the hayloft."

"I've always wanted to climb into a hayloft," Mac said in a sly voice.

"I'll bet you have." Harm gestured with his arm. "Ladies first."

Mac was wearing blue jeans and Harm had to admit that the view of her climbing the ladder was magnificent.

"Are you going to stand down there and stare at my ass? or you coming up here with me?" Mac demanded.

Once in the loft, the pair encountered a maze of trunks and boxes, and more old furniture.

"It's like a time capsule up here."

"Grams was a child of the Great Depression. She doesn't throw anything away."

Mac found a box of newspaper clippings from the Washington County Observer-Reporter. One article having been highlighted in red ink:

Washington County man awarded DFC.

LT Harmon D. Rabb Sr. USN, of Beallsville, Washington County, has been award the Distinguished Flying Cross with a Combat Distinguishing Device for valor. LT Rabb's flight of four F-4 Phantom II's attacked a railway bridge along the Cả River in the North Vietnamese city of Vinh, a major transportation hub between Hanoi and the DMZ. US Navy sources stated that LT Rabb's bombs seriously damaged crucial bridge supports which toppled the railway bridge, disrupting traffic along a key railway.

LT Harmon Rabb Sr. is the son of LT Warren Rabb USNR (deceased) and Sarah Harmon Rabb, of Beallsville. LT Rabb is a graduate of the United States Naval Academy, and was was nominated by US Senator Edward Martin (R-Pennsylvania). Currently on active duty, LT Rabb resides in San Diego, CA with his wife Patricia and their son Harmon Rabb Jr.

LT Rabb's Radar Intercept Officer, LTJG Howard S. Gibson, also of San Diego CA, was awarded an Air Medal for the same action.

Mac showed the clipping to Harm. "Had you seen this before?"

"Not until right now", said Harm, did remembered Tom Boone description of the mission:

"Your dad and I, along with Al and Bill, flew so many missions against that bridge that we'd see the same boats on the river. It got to the point that the boat crews were like spectators watching a football game! There were no SAM's protecting the bridge, but the 37mm anti aircraft cannons shot up Bill's bird pretty bad. Bill always was a magnet for flak. We hit the bridge twice with 500 pounders, but the gomers [prejudicial slang for the NVA] would patch it up at night and the trains kept rolling. On the final mission we were carrying 2,000 pound Mark 84 bomb's, the biggest that would fit on the hardpoints of an F-4. These weren't smart bombs, we aimed them by using good 'ole Kentucky windage. Al and Bill both missed the bridge. I went next. My hits were close, but didn't do anything more than splash river water onto the railroad tracks. Your dad's first two bombs missed, but his next two bombs hit the bridge abutment. I could see the bridge beginning to shake, and watched as half of it fell into the river. The bridge was out of action for nearly six months."

Mac watched Harm carefully place the newspaper article inside the pocket of his leather flight jacket, then she continued looking around, imagining what additional treasures might be discovered.

Mac spotted a fairly large lump which had be carefully covered in heavy blankets.

"This was my dad's old Soapbox Derby car." Harm carefully pulled back the blankets to reveal a blue and gold wooden car with the F9F painted on its sides. "The Grumman F9F Panther was the Navy's first successful carrier based jet fighter."

"It looks pristine," said Mac.

"I restored it during a summer vacation in junior high school. I was too young to tackle the Stearman, so this was the next best thing."

Thinking back to his snubbing of Frank's offer to help with the car, Harm was once again ashamed by his juvenile behavior.

"Did you race it?" Mac asked anxiously.

"No. By the 70's the car was obsolete, but my father took third place with this car in the 1952 Western Pennsylvania Soap Box Derby. He and his grandfather, my great grandfather, Peter Rabb, built it and then trucked it to Ambridge, which is about an hour away." Harm got a far away look in his eyes. "I'd like to set up a small portion of the barn as a sort of memorial to my dad and display some of his things, including this car."

"That's a wonderful idea." Mac wiped the dust off of a trunk and motioned Harm to sit next to her. Then she gave him a kiss.

"What's that for?"

"For being the birthday boy. Although I wish that you would at least acknowledge that it is your birthday. After all, thirty five isn't ancient."

"I'm nearing the mid-point in my life, but I'm nowhere near where I had planned to be, wanted to be, or need to be."

Although Trish and Frank had already put Harm in Admiral Chegwidden's chair as the Navy's JAG, Harm had serious doubts that it was possible.

Inside Washington DC, Harmon Rabb had crossed too many important people, and he had not made nearly enough important friends.

In the meantime, the results of last Wednesday's eye exam would be available this coming week. If the results were favorable, it meant getting the eye surgery he would need to restore him to active flight status, returning to the fleet...and flying a Tomcat again.

"Life doesn't follow a straight line, Harm. There are twists and turns along the way," said Mac, who had noticed the far away look in Harm's eyes.

"There have been too many twists and turns this year. The past few months have put a huge strain on my relationship with the Admiral. I've been away from JAG so much this year that I'm surprised he lets me keep my office," Harm admitted.

"That's not true. The Admiral respects you because you stand up for the things you believe in."

"When I'm in the courtroom I sometimes wonder what those things are? As a naval aviator my duty was clear cut: to defend my country and the fleet, even at the expense of my own life. I believed in that, just like my father and my grandfather had believed in it. At JAG, I'm defending anyone the Admiral assigns me to represent in court."

This was something entirely new for Mac. Despite the intense pressures he'd faced this year, Mac had never heard Harm talk disparagingly about his career at JAG.

Mac was acutely aware that because of his vision Harm could never fly a jet fighter again. If he was fed up with JAG, was he fed up enough to leave the Navy and possibly settle down here on the farm?

Admit that you want out of JAG, Harm. Just say it to me and I'll leave with you. Even if it means both of us facing the Admiral on Monday morning.

Mac decided not to push for an answer- at least not right now. Instead, she put her hand on Harm's shoulder. "Whatever you decide about your career, you know that I will support you."

"That means a lot," but Harm knew such support would not include his returning to active flight status and rejoining the fleet. "Right now, all that I want is to get through the remainder of this year."

"Maybe this will help to take your mind off it," and Mac gave Harm a long kiss.

"Hmm. Things have already taken a turn for the better."

Mac gave Harm a playful look. "Was this your first kiss in the hayloft? or was there was a farmer's daughter on Old MacDonald's farm?"

"Four sons: Matthew, Mark, Luke and John." Harm looked at his watch. "We'd better head back to the main house. When Grams says that lunch is being served at noon, she doesn't mean 1201."

As they walked hand in hand back to the main house, Mac took another long look at the property.

This would be an amazing place for Harm and Ito raise our children. Never mind one or two, why not three or even four children?... and horses. We'd have all of our Thanksgivings and Christmases with Trish and Frank. We could even get the farm back into full operation.

Mac knew that she was letting her imagination run wild. After all, she still had no firm commitment from Harm, but here and now it didn't matter.

Sarah MacKenzie had followed Harm to Russia, and when he said to her that he was ready, she would follow him here, to Beallsville...or to the very ends of the earth.