Who Am I
Chapter 11
Harm's eyes opened wider than Mac had ever seen. They'd scanned over her from head to toe before turning to Kathy and silently begging for confirmation.
"That's right," Kathy nodded.
Harm didn't understand. Pulling his arm away from the nurse, he closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. This wasn't right. He wouldn't forget his wife. Why were these people lying to him? Where was he? What was going on? Taking a deep breath, his hands dropped to cover his mouth before sliding the rest of the distance away from his face.
Harm stared intently at the wall in front of him. The nurse called him 'Captain'. Captain? Captain what? Captain who? Dear God, he didn't know his own name. Could it be they were right? Were they telling him the truth? Was this woman his wife? Harm watched the nurse push some buttons on the machinery at his bedside and tinker with his IV before stepping away from the bed. No! The nurse was leaving, leaving him alone with...
Snapping his head over to his 'wife', Harm looked more closely at the woman who sat silently watching his every move. He felt like he was in a fish bowl. What did she expect from him? Letting himself look her in the eye, he felt his heart sink to his stomach. She looked so sad. Was that pain he saw in her eyes? If it was, how did he know? Could it be true? Had he really cared for this stranger?
Darting his eyes back to the nurse, Harm took another deep breath. He couldn't do this. He couldn't look that woman in the face.
Mac felt the vice tightening around her heart. She wasn't sure what was worse, not knowing if he'd ever wake up, or having him wake up and to still have lost him. She was afraid to move, afraid to speak. What was she supposed to say? How could you forget me? Us? The children! Oh God, what would it do to Tommy? His father finally wakes up and doesn't remember him. Lord help her, what a mess.
She wanted so badly to reach out, to touch him, to soothe away his doubts. When she first reached for him, he had looked like a deer trapped in the headlights. No, maybe that wasn't it. He was terrified. A deer was merely frozen. Harm looked horrified at the thought that she might actually touch him.
The deafening silence was broken with the strong whoosh of the door swinging open.
"They told me you decided to join us. Glad to see you, Captain. How are you feeling?"
"Confused." What the hell kind of a question was that? Two strange women were in his room telling him one of them was his wife. How should he feel?
"That's understandable. How do you feel physically? Is the arm causing you much discomfort?"
Harm realized for the first time that his left shoulder was bandaged and did indeed have a rather annoying throbbing sensation pounding at him, especially since he'd yanked it away from the nurse.
"It hurts, if that's what you're asking."
"On a scale of one to ten, how much is it hurting?"
Harm had to think about that a little longer than he felt he should have. What are these people trying to do to him? There is a strange woman claiming to be his wife, and this guy is worrying about number lines.
"A lot, a little?" the doctor coaxed.
"Seven," Harm huffed.
"Very good. We'll adjust your pain medication accordingly. Have you got a headache?"
Was this man trying to make him feel worse? Rubbing his temple with his good arm, "Yeah, now that you mention it, and before you ask, about a five."
The doctor chuckled to himself and nodded. He may not remember who he is, but the keen mind that made Harmon Rabb such a famous lawyer was still hiding there somewhere. Stepping around the nurse, Dr. Pena moved Harm's gown and began probing around his incision, ignoring any possible discomfort Harm might have felt at being somewhat exposed to his audience. "Any tenderness?"
Harm was staring horrified at his chest. He had a scar that ran straight down his middle as far as he could see.
"No need for concern," the doctor tried to calm Harm when he spotted his patient's reaction. "We had to repair quite a bit of damage. You were bleeding internally and opening you from sternum to pubic bone is standard procedure in emergency surgery. In time the scar will be barely noticeable, especially on your chest."
Reality came crashing down on Harm with the weight of an anvil. They were telling him the truth. "What happened?" Harm looked at all three faces in the room.
The doctor glanced quickly at Mac. She seemed to be holding up remarkably well under the circumstances, but it was time to test the waters.
"You've been in a car accident," Mac volunteered. She couldn't stand staying quiet any longer. At least this much information couldn't possibly harm his psyche, or his recovery.
"When?" Harm looked at Mac since she'd been the one to answer his question. He didn't see the doctor nodding behind him for her to answer again.
"A little over three weeks ago. You've been in a coma." Mac hoped she hadn't said more than she was supposed to.
Harm's brow inched high on his forehead again. Letting his head fall back against the pillow, he focused intently on the ceiling tiles, finally asking, "What's my name?"
"Harmon Rabb, Jr. Captain Harmon Rabb, Jr. United States Navy." Mac stared longingly at him, praying that somewhere in the current fog that must be his brain, that somewhere he could find a fragment of recollection.
"And yours?" He looked down from the ceiling at her.
"Colonel Sarah Rabb, United States Marine Corps. You call me Mac." Mac hadn't realized she had scooted closer on the edge of her seat, hoping for some flicker of recognition in his eyes.
"Mac?" Harm hadn't meant for his face to scrunch up in disbelief.
Chuckling quietly, she explained, "Yeah. It's short for my maiden name, MacKenzie." Mac's hopes sank once again when Harm returned to gazing at the ceiling.
"How long have we been married?"
"It will be 11 years on October 9th." Mac resisted the urge to reach forward and take his hand in hers.
Harm squeezed his eyes shut, still facing the ceiling. Eleven years. Why couldn't he remember? Were they good years, bad years? "Why don't I remember?"
"You were banged up pretty good in that accident, but your inability to remember is caused by the head trauma. You had some intracranial bleeding. Basically your brain banged around in your skull, was bruised, swollen, and continued bleeding. That's what put you in a coma. Now that the swelling and pressure have decreased, you've woken up," Dr. Pena explained in extremely simplistic terms.
"When will I remember?" Harm was staring intently at the doctor.
"I don't know," he shrugged.
"Will I ever remember?" Harm didn't like the body language he was reading. Not that he knew why, but he felt he was good at it and trusted his instincts.
"I don't know that either."
"Is it possible?"
"Maybe." This man definitely still had the ability to corner a witness. Dr Pena just preferred not being the person on the wrong end of the inquisition.
"In other words, not likely?" Harm understood perfectly what this man wasn't saying.
"I didn't say that. We have to wait and see. Usually bits and pieces of memory come back slowly over the first few days." Nodding at the nurse, Dr. Pena gestured for them to leave the couple alone. "Mrs. Rabb can fill you in on any questions you may have. Don't try to fill in all the gaps too fast. Take your time. I'll have Commander Brubeck, your neurologist, stop by later to check on you. When you're feeling up to it we can discuss what happens next."
Harm watched the door slowly close behind the doctor and nurse. 'What happens next.' What the hell does happen next?
"I think I want to rest now," Harm didn't even turn to look at Mac, he couldn't.
"No problem. I...I'll go call the house, check on the kids." Mac started to get up, suddenly realizing what she'd said. Turning slightly to glance at Harm she wasn't surprised to see his eyes wide in horror again.
Chapter 12"We have children?" Why did this thought hurt so much? Scanning his mind quickly, he didn't seem to remember anything about them either, but he could feel a deep ache rising in his chest.
"Two. Patricia and Thomas." Mac hesitated. "Do you still want to be alone for a little while?"
"I...I don't know, but you should probably go take care of the children."
"It's okay if you want me to stay. Your mom is with them."
"My mom?" Harm tried really, really hard to remember something, anything.
Mac could see the pain in his eyes at the realization he didn't remember his own mother.
Harm rubbed his hands across his eyes. "No, you go. I think I need to rest." He didn't watch her leave, so he didn't see the slump in her normally sturdy shoulders, nor the tears she was nobly fighting not to shed.
Mom... How could he forget his own mother? No wonder he couldn't remember his wife. Was there anything he could remember? Almost frantically he searched and searched his memory banks. Was it really possible to have one's mind a blank slate? He had to remember something, anything. Surely, he had a favorite pet, an annoying aunt who always pinched his cheeks, a friend who cut school with him, a girl under some bleachers. Damn it, wasn't there anything he could remember? Harm closed his eyes. Maybe he should have stayed in the coma.
The green eyed little boy ran freely throughout the enormous castle. Round and around the Christmas tree he ran, laughing and playing with his new toys. The oversized tree was covered in bright lights and garland. From the cold stone floor to the ceiling high over his head, the tree was a beacon of Christmas cheer.
The nearing sound of the roaring dragon pierced the playful world of the little boy. No, not again. Running as fast as his little feet would carry him, the boy ran down the stairs, deeper and deeper under ground. "He's coming, he's coming," he cried.
"What is it baby?" a sweet voice called from the bottom of the stairs.
"The mean monster is back, he's coming to take you away."
"It's alright, baby. There is no monster. No one is going to take me away."
"He is. I know he is. Just like he took the King." The little boy looked around the cold room stiffening at the sound of the heavy footsteps. "They're coming. I told you they'd come for you! You have to hide."
Running around the darkened room the little boy shook all the bars on the cells. "We have to hide." The footsteps were growing louder and louder. Turning around he couldn't see his mother anymore. "Mama? Mama?" he cried, cringing in the corner as the hollow footsteps landed loudly on firm ground.
Curling up as small as he could, he watched the two monsters walking closely. No wait, they weren't monsters. They were soldiers in black uniforms with gold stripes and white hats. They were coming to take his mommy, but where was mommy?
"You can not hide. We will find you. We will always find you," the disembodied voices filled the air.
The little boy looked up and watched as the two giant soldiers threw a dirty, hairy man into a bamboo cage and pulled the chord letting him hang over the room like a chandelier.
"You're next dear," they announced to the beautiful woman beside them. "You need to take your place with the King."
"NO!" he screamed. "Not my mommy. Not my mommy!"
"NO!" Harm sprang up from bed. A sharp pain shot from his shoulder, down across his chest and midsection.
"Captain!" A startled voice came through the door. "Are you okay? You're soaking!" Nurse Kathy exclaimed. Hurrying to help him lay back down, she pushed a button calling to the main desk. "I'm going to need a change of sheets in here."
Making sure her patient was lying back comfortably, Kathy retrieved a small towel from the bathroom and used it to wipe the sweat from Harm's brow. "Looks like you had a nasty dream. You just take it easy now and we'll get you into something clean and dry."
Rabb House
Same time
"Rabb residence."
"Mom."
"What's wrong, dear?" Trish could tell from Mac's single word that something was wrong, very wrong. "Is it Harm?"
"He's awake," Mac said softly.
"Thank you, God," Trish whispered softly upward.
"Mom, there may be a problem."
Trish gripped the phone tightly waiting for Mac's next words.
"He has amnesia. He doesn't seem to remember...any of us." Mac took a step from under the shade of the hospital entryway into the warmer sunlight.
Trish wasn't sure what to say. A thousand questions were running through her head, and yet, she couldn't settle on any one thing to ask.
"He wanted to be alone for a little while. I came outside to use my cell phone." Mac suddenly felt incredibly tired. "Could you please call the Admiral? I don't think I have another phone call in me."
"Of course, dear. I'll call the Admiral and find someone to stay with the kids so I can come back. Mac?"
"Mm."
"Don't worry, dear. I know it will be okay."
Mac nodded her head as though Trish could see through the phone. "I'm going to get a soda and head back upstairs. Take your time, I think he wants to be alone."
Mac strolled slowly to the nearest vending machine. The caffeine in a diet soda would hit the spot right about now. She hadn't exactly prepared herself for this possibility. She was going to have to decide how to handle it. What to tell the children. Truth be told, she was stalling. She was afraid to go back to his room, of what might happen next.
Tossing the empty soda can in the nearest trash bin, Mac straightened her shoulders. No sense in putting off the inevitable. She pushed open the door to Harm's room and practically marched inside, coming to a complete halt when she spotted the nurse fussing over him.
"What's going on?" she asked rather harshly.
"We had a nightmare," Kathy answered.
Mac almost laughed at the glare Harm shot the nurse's way for using the word 'we'. At least some of Harm was still locked somewhere inside him.
"Can I help?"
"No, thank you. We're just finishing up here." Kathy fluffed a pillow, tugged softly at Harm's gown and smiled as she walked past Mac and out the door.
Mac hesitated just a moment before moving closer to the bed. "Are you...okay?"
"It was just a dream. I don't see why everyone is making such a fuss."
"What was it about?" Mac couldn't help but wonder if his nightmare hadn't been reliving the ramp strike, or something just as painful for him, like Darlyn. There were lots of close calls in Harm's history.
"Christmas in a castle with a dragon, a king, a damsel in distress, and two nasty monsters in sailor suits," Harm answered rather coldly.
"Oh," she replied softly, "Do you mind if I sit down?"
Harm let out what sounded like an irritated sigh. "No."
Mac felt the tears threatening to fall again. Her head knew it wasn't his fault he didn't really want her around, but her heart was slowly breaking into little pieces.
"Who am I?" Harm shifted slightly, pushing the buttons at his side to raise the head of the bed.
"What do you mean?"
"I know my name, but who am I?"
"You're an honest, loyal, brave man, who just happens to be a loving father and husband, and a damn fine officer."
Chapter 13
Harm studied this woman carefully. For the first time since he'd woken up he really looked at her. Not as a stranger, or a schemer, but as a woman, a beautiful woman. He hadn't really noticed before.
"What do I do in the Navy?"
"You're a lawyer. More specifically, you're on staff with the CNO. Your experience in the courtroom and the cockpit makes you an especially valuable asset. You're up for your first star but most likely will get two when Cresswell retires this year. Rumor has it you're at the top of the short list for the next JAG."
Harm stared at her nearly open-mouthed. Most of what she had just told him sounded like a foreign language. "Did you say I'm a lawyer?"
"That's right. You're also a pilot."
"A pilot?"
"You used to fly tomcats."
"Tomcats?" The more questions she answered, the more confused he was getting.
"It's a type of plane." Mac could see the frustration levels rising in eyes. His entire comportment reeked of barely restrained emotions.
"I think I need to rest." This was all too much. It was like a horrible nightmare. He was sure as a lawyer and an officer in the Navy he was supposed to have understood whatever this woman just said, but he didn't. None of it.
"Yes, of course." Mac shifted awkwardly in her chair. She could probably go wait for Trish in the family room. Pushing back her chair, she was startled by the appearance of Harm's neurologist, unsure of why she hadn't heard the door open.
"I'm sorry, were you leaving?"
"I was just going down the hall for a little while, but it can wait." Mac sat back down in the increasingly uncomfortable chair.
"I'm Commander Brubeck." The tall, slender man introduced himself to Harm, then began doing a cursory examination. "I've scheduled you for a CAT scan tomorrow. That should give us a better idea of where we stand."
Mac watched the doctor carefully.
"I understand you don't remember very much at the moment," the doctor offered, flashing a small light in Harm's eyes.
"More like nothing at all," Harm scoffed, practically blinded by the blinking light.
"Did they tell you how long you've been in a coma?"
"Three weeks," Harm answered.
"How you were hurt?"
"In a car accident."
"You're a lawyer, I understand?"
"That's what they tell me."
"Where were you born?"
"Pensacola," Harm answered without hesitation, immediately looking to Mac for affirmation.
A small smile tugged at one corner of her mouth as she nodded yes.
"When did you graduate high school?"
"I don't know. No, wait..." Harm curled his brow. "1985?"
"That's the year you graduated the academy," Mac corrected, not sure what to make of the small amounts of information.
"Where did you meet your wife?"
Harm stared back at the doctor, embarrassed to admit he had no idea.
"Off hand, I would say Dr. Pena is correct. You appear to be suffering from post traumatic retrograde amnesia." Commander Brubeck stepped back to speak with both Harm and Mac.
"Which means?" Mac inquired.
"For now, he's having a hard time remembering things that happened before the accident. He's been able to remember the information that he's recently been given, which is a very good sign. Many amnesia victims with some brain damage are never able to convert short term information into long term memory storage. You seem to be able to process new information and recall it without any problem." Noticing neither Harm nor Mac seemed very relieved at this tidbit of information, the doctor continued, "Your injuries could have been much more severe. There are people who wake up from a closed head injury who can't remember how to talk, or walk. They have to struggle to relearn everything they learned in childhood."
"I guess there are still some things to be thankful for," Harm said quietly, not feeling very convinced.
"I suggest we take this one day at a time and see how much information you regain. Pure retrograde amnesia is very uncommon."
"What exactly is that?"
"When all memories prior to the traumatic injury are lost and never recovered."
Mac felt herself swallow a gasp. This couldn't be happening.
Before anyone could say anything else, Trish walked briskly into the room, stopping short at the sight of her son wide-awake.
"Harm," she grinned, her eyes immediately filling with tears.
"Mom?" Harm asked timidly.
"You remember me?" She moved closer to the bed, wanting to hug her son hello, but afraid of how he might react.
"No, I mean yes. You were in a dream I had. You were the damsel in distress."
"I haven't been considered a damsel in one hell of a long time, Harmon Rabb." Trish hadn't meant to use her motherly tone on him, but it just slipped out.
"I was a little boy, maybe five or six years old, playing with a toy airplane, running around a really big Christmas tree. Then I heard dragons roar and ran to find you. I seemed to think I had to protect you from being taken away like the King had been. There was a dungeon, and cells, and a haggard man in a bamboo cage, and two monsters who turned out to be men in dark uniforms with white hats."
Trish and Mac paled at his retelling. Even the doctor noticed the change in their color. "Does this have some significance for you ladies?" the doctor asked, his curiosity piqued.
"My husband was shot down in Vietnam on Christmas Eve 1969. Two officers in winter blues came to tell me the news on Christmas day. Harm had been playing with a toy F4 his dad had sent him when the men came to the door." Trish suddenly felt the need to sit down, quickly.
Noticing her wobble, Mac sprang up and offered Trish her chair.
"He was held captive in Vietnam until he was moved to a prison camp in the Soviet Union," Trish continued.
"The King?" Harm whispered softly.
Trish nodded her head. "You went all the way to Russia to find him," she told her son, dropping her hand lightly on his.
"Did I?"
"He was killed in 1980." Trish was having a hard time retelling the story. Her only consolation was the tight grip her son wrapped around her hand.
Not very comfortable with the private family moment, Commander Brubeck shifted in place. "If you'll excuse me, it's time I should be going. I'll be back tomorrow after the CAT scan. You should be off the catheter and moving around a bit by then."
Trish and Mac nodded their understanding and turned their attention back to Harm. Mac took the seat on the other side of the bed. Quietly, she sat listening to Trish recount Harm's childhood. She and Harm both had to laugh when Trish got to the story of Uncle Charlie getting caught in the chimney. Mac cringed when Trish went over Harm's trip to Vietnam at sixteen. Mac had heard it before from Harm, but hearing it again still sent shivers down her spine.
Harm listened to the retelling of his life with the impassivity of a sloth. Occasionally, he felt as though the people and places his mom mentioned were just floating around outside his reach, waiting for him to grab them and reel them in.
When Trish noticed Harm's eyelids starting to droop, she decided it was a good time to call it a day.
"It's getting pretty late and you need your rest." Trish tapped Harm lovingly on the hand.
For the first time Harm noticed how tired the two women looked. "I could say the same thing about you."
As if on cue, Mac stifled a yawn.
"When was the last time you got a good night's sleep? Either one of you?" Harm asked, not needing a response. "I would like some time to myself. I think you should go home. Get a good night's sleep."
The two women nodded their assent. Despite her initial instinct to insist on staying, Mac recognized that she needed to be home with her children tonight. Things were going to be very different starting tomorrow morning.
Chapter 14-
Mac thought about it all night and well into the early hours of the morning. She finally decided it was best for the moment not to tell the children that Harm had woken up. At least not until he'd had some time to get used to the idea of being Harmon Rabb and they could discuss what to do about him seeing the children. She managed to convince Trisha that due to some scheduled tests it would be best if she skipped reading to her dad today. Much to Mac's relief, Trisha didn't put up a fuss and was more than content to just read twice as much to her dad the next day.
Trish announced that she had quite a bit of gallery business she needed to handle over the phone and would be staying home this morning. The fact that she'd have to wait until noon Eastern time before the gallery even opened meant it was very possible Trish wouldn't be spending much time at the hospital today. Mac found it rather sweet that Trish picked today of all days to have to tend to business. Somehow, Mac was fairly sure that whatever Trish had deemed so important was most likely just an excuse to leave her and Harm alone.
Harm had slept soundly through the night. If he'd had any more dreams or nightmares, he didn't remember them. Bright and early, another nurse had come in to remove the catheter and show him how to use the plastic urinal.
"You've been stationary too long. Moving around is going to be hard and painful. It's not easy being cracked open the way you were, but it will get easier. For today we'll start with sitting in a chair for a while. Then we'll slowly get you walking around. Soon you'll be able to use the bathroom instead of this." She set the urinal down on the nightstand. "You already know how to adjust your bed. If you need to call a nurse, just push that button there." Lt. Debbie Peters pointed to a panel on the side of the bed.
Harm looked carefully at all the pictures on the narrow box. Confident he recognized which one was intended for calling the nurse, he nodded his head. "Thank you."
He had no idea how long he had been staring out the window at the blue sky when he heard the creak of the door opening.
"Morning," Mac smiled tentatively.
"Hi," Harm answered back, not really sure if he was happy to have her here or not.
"The nurse said you had a good night." Mac set the bag she'd brought down on the corner by the bed. "She also said they're going to be starting you on real food today."
Harm watched Mac keep herself busy, hovering around the bed. He hadn't really thought about this from her perspective. Here he was watching a perfect stranger, someone he knew nothing about, cared nothing about, and yet he felt put out, pressured by all that was expected from him regarding her. While she moved around doing what must be small wifely things, he realized she was most likely in the same position. Though her memories of the years of shared experiences were completely intact, the man she loved and married, for now, might as well be dead. She too was being forced to be with a total stranger.
"I don't want to overwhelm you," Mac hesitated looking at something in her hands, "but I don't know what to do about the children."
A nervous flock of geese began fluttering in Harm's stomach as Mac slowly approached him.
"I brought a few pictures." She handed him two 5 x 7 photo frames. "There's more in the bag if you'd like to see them."
Harm accepted the pictures, studying the pretty little girl in front of him. A small part of him hoped that seeing her might trigger some memory, but he was drawing another complete blank. Not even a flicker of emotion stirred in him. No paternal instincts, no sense of some connection. He felt hollow inside.
"Did you say her name is Patricia?" Harm didn't look up from the picture.
"After your mother, and Sarah after your grandmother. She's nine now." Mac leaned back against the foot of the bed.
Harm looked up at Mac, squinting slightly, then looked back at the photo. "She looks like you, doesn't she?"
"For the most part, but she has your green eyes and the Rabb smile." Mac had folded her hands in front of her and was now nervously twiddling her fingers.
Switching the photo of Trisha with the one underneath, Harm's eyes opened wide, "Wow. I wonder if this is what I looked like as a boy." He looked up at Mac slightly open-mouthed.
"That's what your mom says," she smiled. "He can wrap the girls in his class around his finger with just a smile. That kid has dress whites and gold wings written all over him," she teased.
Harm frowned, "Dress whites and gold wings?"
"It's an expression about fighter pilots," Mac skirted.
"You think he's going to be a fighter pilot?" Harm didn't understand what that had to do with the little boy's captivating smile.
"The entire expression is 'dress whites and gold wings will get you in bed anywhere.'" Mac hoped she wasn't blushing. Even though she was technically chatting with the one man in the world who knew her more intimately than anyone else, she was still talking to a perfect stranger.
Harm raised one eyebrow, his eyes twinkled slightly, and Mac felt her heart swell. Her Harm was in there somewhere.
"Did they?" he grinned mischievously.
"Did they what?" Mac was seriously flustered by the power of that smile.
"Get us into bed?" Harm's small grin flourished into a full blown flyboy smile until he saw the shock on Mac's face. Quickly backpedaling, "I...I'm sorry I shouldn't have said that. Please accept my apology?"
Mac pressed her lips tightly together. Apparently the fighter jock and the gentleman were still in there somewhere battling each other. "As a matter of fact. You asked me to marry you without sleeping with me."
"So, I really am an officer and a gentleman?" Harm wasn't sure why, but he felt really badly about having possibly offended her. He wasn't sure if it was just his nature, or perhaps deep down he really did care about this woman.
"Yeah." Mac's mind had wondered back to the day he proposed. She wasn't completely sure if offering to go halves on a baby would be considered very gentlemanly, but she loved him so much for it.
"You said you had more."
"Oh, yeah." Mac happily grabbed the bag and began handing Harm photos. "That's all of us at Christmas last year."
Harm studied the family photo. He certainly looked happy, but then again, seasonal portraits could be deceiving.
When he set the photo down, Mac handed him another. "That was you and Tommy two summers ago. It's one of my favorite photos."
From the looks of it, Harm had been playing baseball with his son. Someone snapped the photo just as the little boy's bat connected with an oversized plastic ball. Tommy's eyes were huge in surprise, and Harm was grinning from ear to ear. It really was a sweet photo. Harm couldn't resist smiling even though he had no recollection of the event.
"Is he a good ball player?" Harm glanced up.
"He's only six, but yeah, I think he's pretty good. How many four year olds do you know who can hit a pitched ball?"
What little smile was on his face, slid away at her words.
"I'm sorry. I... I didn't mean..." Mac didn't know what to say.
"I know. Have another?"
Mac showed Harm the other photos she had gathered from around the house. The photo of Trisha at her first piano recital that sat on the baby grand. Another photo from the mantel, of Tommy and Trisha posing in Sarah.
Photograph after photograph, Harm realized he was always smiling, happy. Even in the candid shots. He actually started aching for what he couldn't remember. This man he was had a good life. Suddenly, he was filled with fear. Could he become the man these people remembered, the man in these photos? Would he even want to?
Chapter 15
"I think I should get back to bed." His muscles were starting to really sting from holding himself up, and as much as he hated to admit being weak, he needed the rest. Hesitating a moment, he wondered if that was something old or new. Did Harmon Rabb Jr. not like being weak? "If you'll call the nurse, I'll need some help getting back into bed."
"I can help." Mac hopped off the edge of the bed and leaned forward to put her arm around him.
"You'd better call the nurse."
"I can do this," Mac insisted.
"You might get hurt," Harm excused.
"Harm, I'm a Marine." Exasperation was clear in her voice.
"You say that a lot, don't you?" She seemed unusually comfortable in her role as the persuader. This wasn't the first time she'd needed to convince anyone of her ability. He didn't have to remember to be sure of that much.
"I suppose I do. Now stop grumbling and lean on me." Mac leaned more closely into Harm so he could put his weight on her.
"I... I'd rather the nurse did this," Harm resisted.
"Harm, whether you like it or not, I'm your wife and you're going to have to learn to trust me. Now seems as good a time as any, so move it, sailor. That's an order."
Pushing off the arms of the chair as much as he could, Harm leaned on Mac and shuffled his way back to the bed. Careful not to tangle the IV, Mac released her hold on his side and turned, reaching around his front. "Do you need me to help you slide onto the bed or can you do this yourself?"
Whether he could or couldn't, he had no intention of letting this woman do anything else to get him into bed. "I can do it," he mumbled.
Mac watched as he grimaced and struggled, shifting himself back on the bed.
"And they call us jarheads." She shook her head. "Let me at least help with your legs." Not accepting no for an answer, Mac lifted Harm's legs up and swung them across the bed. "There. Isn't that better?" She brushed her hands off.
"What's a jarhead?"
"It's a nickname for a Marine, but I'd watch who you say it to. You could wind up on the wrong end of an angry fist."
"Ah, I see," Harm smiled slightly.
"I'm just going to sit here and read. You go ahead and take a nap. It probably won't be long before they start serving lunch."
Harm watched her put all the photographs away and retrieve a rather large paperback. He wondered if she read often or if this was just her way of keeping busy under the circumstances.
Mac pulled out her latest book. She'd been reading a lot since spending so much time at the hospital. She couldn't help but glance at Harm out of the corner of her eye. When she was sure he was soundly asleep, she set her book down and simply watched him.
Dress whites and gold wings. Thinking back, it was funny how often she'd told him they were overrated. Mac closed her eyes and it was all as clear as yesterday... Standing in front of the cars at the Colombian Embassy:
"You know what they say about dress whites and gold wings? Overrated." Mac had quickly turned and hopped into the waiting car.
"We'll, see," Harm had smirked cockily, climbing into the jeep.
She didn't realize he'd said that under his breath until he'd fessed up that night at his apartment.
North of Union Station
May 1999
No sooner had Harm said, "Let's get married," than the water from the pasta pot boiled over, raising the lid with a clank.
Practically jumping back, Harm ran around the island and turned off the stove. Without giving any consideration to actually putting pasta in the boiling water, Harm returned eagerly to Mac's side.
"It's not nice to keep a guy waiting. What do you say, Mac? Will you marry me?" Harm grabbed her hands in his again, anticipation eating away at his normally calm demeanor.
"Why?" She may have been pushing her luck, but she had to ask.
Harm brought her hands up to his lips and placed a delicate, light kiss on the back of her hand, then slid it down his face and neck until he brought it to rest over his beating heart.
"I love you, Sarah MacKenzie. I don't ever want to lose you. No matter what the future holds, I want to be a part of your life." Harm thought his heart had stopped, waiting for her response.
"I love you, too. Yes, let's get married." Mac fought the urge to ask about Jordan. Whatever had or hadn't happened between them, it was Mac he was asking to marry him and share his life and children, not Jordan.
Harm hesitated, just watching her. Had she really said yes? Could it be that his entire world had completely turned around in only a few hours? "I uh..." For the second time in only a short while, Harm didn't know what to say. He wanted this woman in his arms more than anything in the world, and yet he didn't dare ask for what was on his mind. Only a few hours ago they'd been nothing more than colleagues. Somewhere he'd have to find the strength to be patient, to ease into a more physical relationship. He just wasn't sure where to find it at the moment. If he kissed her again now, there was no force on earth that could stop him from taking this all the way.
"A girl says 'yes' and all you say is, 'uh'?" Mac teased. What she really wanted to do was rip off his clothes and drag him to the nearest flat surface.
"I love you, but if I want to start this relationship out right, I'd better do as I promised and feed you." Reluctantly, Harm pulled away from her and turned the water pot back on to boil. "It should only take a second since it was practically boiling over a minute ago." The water wasn't the only thing ready to boil over, Harm thought.
Mac chuckled softly, "Apparently my reputation precedes me."
"I wouldn't want to be accused of not feeding a hungry Marine." The water at a full boil again, Harm stirred the raw pasta into the pot.
Mac gathered her nerve and walked around the counter, stepping up closely into Harm's personal space. "Sometimes a Marine is hungry for more than pasta." Giving him her best come-hither gaze, Mac ran one finger along the edge of Harm's ear, tracing down along his jaw line, finally stopping at the seam of his lips. "Unless your appetite is really set on pasta?"
"I uh..." Oh lord, his appetite for pasta wasn't the only thing up at the moment.
"You said that already."
"Yeah, I guess I did."
Mac let her finger slowly drop down to his chin and run past his neck, stopping to doodle lightly at the vee of his shirt.
"Oh, Mac." Harm wrapped his arms around her, practically crushing her tightly against him. Breathlessly he whispered in her ear, "Do you have any idea what you're doing to me?"
Turning her face to nibble on his chin, she licked the edge of his earlobe before whispering back, "I was hoping it was something like what you do to me."
That was it. Slow and patient had just flown out the window. Harm's lips came crashing down on hers. His hands couldn't move fast enough. He couldn't pull her close enough. He wanted all of Sarah MacKenzie, forever.
Chapter 16Harm opened his eyes to find Mac still sitting quietly at his bedside, her eyes closed and a sweet grin on her face. She really was a beautiful woman. He should feel lucky to have such a beautiful wife, but he didn't, he felt trapped. Scared and trapped like a cornered rat, yet the longer he watched her, oddly enough, the calmer he realized he felt. It made no sense. Having her around was both frightening and comforting. It simply made no sense.
Letting out a short sigh, Mac opened her eyes and picked up her book, startled to hear Harm speak.
"Must have been a nice dream."
Positive her face was blushing several shades of crimson, Mac looked down at the book in her hands and softly answered, "The best." Maybe some day she could tell him that first night wouldn't be the only time they had almost burned down his old apartment.
The next few hours passed with a continuous flurry of activity. Shortly after Harm returned from the CAT scan, he was served a rather bland lunch of broth and Jell-O. Though he never said a word, Mac could tell he wasn't very pleased with his culinary options. Before she could bring up what to do about the children again, Jen showed up with her husband, Bobby.
The situation was more than uncomfortable. Mac hadn't had time yet to fill Harm in on all their friends. She would have to make a mental note to ask them to please give him a few days to adjust before bombarding him with social calls.
As soon as the two people walked in the door, Mac glanced, slightly panicked, in Harm's direction, searching his face. In a small way she hoped maybe for some insane reason Jen would trigger memories Mac couldn't, but the expression on his face was clear – he had no idea who they were or if he should even know them.
Harm saw the white uniform and terror flushed through him. This was probably someone else he was supposed to know. How many people had he forgotten? How much of a life was wiped away? Frantically his eyes darted to Mac, silently pleading for help.
"Jen! Bobby!" Mac enunciated clearly, springing with feigned enthusiasm from her seat. "Shouldn't you two be at work?" Mac hugged each of them whispering into Jen's ear, "He's still pretty confused."
Smiling apprehensively, Jen stepped out of the embrace and closer to the bed. Directing her comments at Mac, "General Cresswell had a meeting with the SecNav. He'll be gone all afternoon, so he approved my leaving early today." Turning her attention back to Harm, "So, how ya feeling, Captain? Ready to revolt on the cafeteria yet?"
Harm stared silently at Jennifer. She was an attractive, obviously much younger woman, and from the force of the grip she held on the man next to her, they were undoubtedly a couple. He didn't realize how long he remained silent, analyzing the scene before him, or how Jen was slowly beginning to squirm until Mac answered for him.
"I strongly suspect if they continue bringing him meals along the lines of today's, it won't be long before he's begging us for contraband." Mac tried to lighten the growing tension with a hearty chuckle.
Recognizing his blatant lack of participation in the conversation, Harm smiled up at Jen, "You didn't happen to bring some french fries with you?" Unfortunately, he was completely unprepared for the look of sheer shock that spread across all three people's faces. What had he said? French fries were food? He hadn't just insulted anyone, had he?
"No, sir," Jen finally managed to spit out. "But I'll see what I can do next time."
The rest of their short visit didn't go much better. Despite varied attempts to lessen the pressure, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife. No matter what anyone did or said, the blatant truth of the matter was that the man they knew and loved wasn't with them.
Harm kept his eyes on Mac as she followed Jen and Bobby out of the room. She'd tried to help him, to make it easier for him. Sending him clues, outright answering for him if necessary. She seemed flawless in her approach, as though she'd been covering for him for years. He couldn't help but wonder, why? What was it in their past that made her so good at protecting him, helping him?
Mac quietly explained to their guests to please pass the word around to give him a few more days before coming to visit. They were going to need time. Hopefully, not as much as she feared.
"Thank you," Harm offered as soon as Mac re-entered the room.
Mac looked at him quizzically. "For what?"
"For trying to help, trying not to make it obvious how little I remember."
"I've been watching your six for a lot of years, no reason to stop now," she smiled.
"My six?" Harm jetted his head slightly forward in another moment of obvious confusion. Would there be no end to things he didn't understand?
"It's pilot jargon for rear end. Anyone in the Navy who has ever served on a carrier is familiar with it. We've always had each other's backs. I'm not going to stop now." Stepping forward she dropped her hand on his, squeezing gently. It was the first time she'd actually touched him since he'd woken up yesterday. The feel of his skin under her hand sent an enormous wave of peace flushing through her.
Harm instinctively stiffened when he felt her hand gently fall on his. Almost immediately, the apprehension was washed away with an overwhelming sensation of comfort, safety. God, he wished he could remember!
Feeling extremely awkward, Harm turned his hand, gently closing his hand around hers for an instant, then pulling it sharply away.
Mac cleared her throat, and took a few steps back. He didn't want to be touched or comforted, at least not by her. Turning around, adjusting nothing in the chair, she batted back the threat of tears, something she feared she was going to get very good at.
"We need to decide what to do about the children." Back in control of her emotions, Mac sat down facing him.
"I would think it's pretty clear I'm in no position to be making any kind of decision regarding your children." Harm didn't know what to say. What did she want him to do?
"Our children," she corrected.
"Sorry, our children." He couldn't help but wonder if he was ever going to remember? If he could ever feel they were HIS children?
"Trisha is usually here every day to read to you. I won't be able to stall her past today without telling her the truth, and Tommy has been patiently waiting for his daddy to wake up. I don't know what will happen when we tell him his daddy isn't really here." Mac let out a heavy sigh. Tommy's reaction scared her most of all. His father was his whole world.
"I see." Harm looked down at his hands and back up at Mac. "I can't be someone I don't remember." He watched Mac batting her eyes, valiantly resisting the tears, hiding behind a forced smile.
"I know that," she managed to agree.
"But if you help me," he hesitated finding the right words. "I'll do my best." Harm prayed he wasn't making a mistake, but if these were his children, and there was little reason to believe they weren't, memory or not, it was his responsibility to at least try and do what was in their best interest. He just prayed he could pull it off.
"I'll call Mom and tell her to bring the kids with her when she comes to visit this afternoon." Apprehension clutched at Mac's insides. Why did this all have to be so hard? Why did any of it have to happen at all?
Chapter 17"Let's see if I've got this right. Tommy is six and I sometimes call him Squirt. Trisha is nine and I tend to call her Princess, and whatever I do, don't call her Patty. It reminds her of Peppermint Patty on Snoopy. Tommy loves anything to do with sports. Give him a ball, any size or shape, and he'll figure out what to do with it. Trisha loves anything girly. Give her a bottle of nail polish and it's like hitting the lottery. Did I leave anything out?" Harm had counted off one by one on his fingers, never looking up at Mac.
"You got it," Mac smiled. "Now, remember we always call her Trisha, never Trish so as not to confuse her with your mom. And she's probably going to talk your ear off about the Indian Princess weekend you missed."
"Did you tell me about that?" Harm squinted one eye wondering why that didn't sound familiar. So far he'd been pleased with his ability to retain whatever information Mac had fed him, but this didn't ring any bells.
"I may have forgotten about that," Mac sighed. "Indian Princess is a father-daughter program at the YMCA."
"YMCA?" Harm interrupted.
"Yeah, Young Men's Christian Association. I'll explain that later. Anyhow, it's a father daughter program at the Y. It involves monthly meetings, and campouts twice a year. You did it through the Y the first year, and afterwards one of the dads with an older daughter encouraged the tribe to go renegade."
"Renegade? Sounds daring," Harm smiled.
Mac felt her heart stop. The glint in his eye, the twitch of his lip, the lilt of his voice - that was her Harm. He was still there.
"Well, I don't know about daring, but it is more comfortable. Camping now usually involves lodges with indoor plumbing and Jacuzzis," Mac chuckled.
"I see," Harm smirked.
"The program at the Y only lasts three years but the dads and the girls have kept it up. You do the same thing now with Tommy, only his group is called the Indian Guides."
"Not princes?"
"No, that doesn't really go over well with five year old little boys, and I might as well tell you..."
"Tell me what?" Apprehension quickly replaced the previously amused smile.
"For Tommy's tribe, you're the Chief."
"The Chief?" Apprehension had now converted to full-blown terror.
"Don't worry. You're almost due to rotate out," Mac shrugged.
"Hmm," he grunted.
Mac wondered quietly if seeing his children was going to make a difference or be like everything else so far? She'd hoped she'd given him enough information to avoid an awkward encounter like the one earlier with Jennifer and her husband. What Mac wasn't so sure of was if Harm could pull this off without the kids picking up on just how bad the injury was. They both agreed they would tell the kids that Daddy had forgotten an awful lot of stuff that happened in the past, but they wouldn't tell the kids he'd forgotten them.
The idea had actually been Harm's suggestion. "I don't have to remember what it's like being a father or a kid to know that it must be devastating to a small child for their parent to forget who they are." Hence, the one-hour crash course on the Rabb children.
"Anybody home?" Trish knocked lightly, popping her head in the door.
Harm and Mac both nodded yes. Trish immediately noticed the stern look on Harm's face. None of the joy or anticipation that would have normally been there at the idea of seeing his children was present. If anything, he reminded her of what he'd been like just before taking final exams as a teenager.
"Where are the kids?" Mac questioned.
"They're waiting for you in the family room. I had to tell them he was awake for Tommy to come, but I didn't tell them anything else." Turning to face Mac, "I thought you might want to handle that yourself.
Mac nodded and hurried past Trish, out the door.
"How are you doing today?" Trish asked, slowly walking closer to the bed.
"Better. Still very confused."
"I bet." Trish brushed her hand lightly along Harm's arm. "When you were a little boy, you would sit at your desk for hours studying maps of South East Asia. I used to think it would have been better if you had just forgotten your father than to waste your childhood searching for him. Now I'm not so sure anymore."
Harm didn't know what to say. He felt really sorry for this woman, for everyone in his life, but there wasn't anything he could do about it.
Unable to resist any longer, Trish ran her fingers through his hair, brushing it back lightly, then she let her fingers gently caress his face before leaning over and kissing his cheek. "I don't care how big you are, you'll always be my baby." Sniffling back the urge to cry, Trish stepped away from the bed.
"I'm sorry," Harm offered.
"Not your fault," Trish smiled just as the door burst open and a missile shot into the room.
Harm's eyes flew open wide as the small projectile crashed against him. He had no idea how such a little thing could have entered the room and climbed up on the bed with such speed and force.
"DADDY!" the little bundle shouted loudly. "Wanta play catch?"
Harm was momentarily at a loss. He hadn't expected such a powerful entrance and was a little taken aback by this miniature person's stranglehold on his neck. Slowly reminding himself that this was his son and some reciprocation would be normal, Harm tentatively let his good arm wrap around the little boy, gently patting his back.
"'Fraid I can't, Squirt." Harm felt a lump in his throat. This was his son, his flesh and blood, and he had no memories.
"Let Trisha say hello." Mac tugged on Tommy's arm, pulling him gently away from Harm, hoping Harm could recognize the silent apology in her eyes.
"Hi, Princess," Harm smiled at the pretty little girl still standing by the front door. If Harm didn't know better, he'd have sworn she was just as nervous about this as he was.
Trisha stared at Harm, unable to move. Mac had explained that Daddy was confused and had forgotten a lot of things, but something wasn't right. She'd seen the momentary horror flash across his face when Tommy lunged at him.
Harm wasn't sure what was wrong, but he could sense there was a problem. This child just could very well be more scared of him at the moment than he was of her, but why?
Mac was holding Tommy in her arms, softly telling him to remember that Daddy was still sick and couldn't do too much right away when she suddenly realized the growing tension in the room. Looking over at her daughter, she encouraged, "Sweetie, go on."
Taking his cue from Mac, Harm extended his arm and smiled at her, "Come on Princess."
Whether her instincts were right or wrong, her dad's broad smile filled her with instant joy. Rushing to his side, she too threw her arms around him. "Oh Daddy, are you really okay?"
Was that ever a loaded question. Wrapping his arm around her with less hesitation than he had with Tommy, Harm instinctively kissed her temple and soothed, "I will be." Now if he only believed that.
Chapter 18Thankfully, Mac and Trish knew better than to overdo the kids' visit. They knew even a few minutes would undoubtedly be difficult for Harm.
Watching Trish usher the kids out the door, Mac took a deep breath before turning back to Harm. "You okay? You did really well."
"They seem like great kids," he answered wistfully. He couldn't imagine a man wanting anything more from his children. It just pained him to think he remembered nothing about them.
"I think you pulled it off. I don't think they realized you don't remember them, at least not for now. Thank you."
"I...I'm sorry."
"For what?"
"That I don't remember." Harm looked at Mac, he wasn't really sure why, but he felt as though he had let her down, as though he had failed. Much to his own surprise, even though he didn't remember any of them, this hurt him more than any physical injury.
Mac was about to explain it wasn't his fault when Dr. Pena and Commander Brubeck quietly entered the room.
"We hear you had a lot of visitors today."
Harm merely nodded, uncertain if any of the thoughts popping into his mind would be considered appropriate in mixed company. He wanted more than anything for everyone to just go away and leave him alone. Every person who walked into the room had some expectation that he knew he wouldn't be able to meet, and he was tired of feeling like he was letting everyone down.
"He did well. He's still a quick study," Mac commented. "We decided not to tell the children he doesn't remember them."
"I'm not surprised," Commander Brubeck interjected. "I mean, that the Captain here is a quick study. Amnesiacs commonly retain or easily relearn old skills. As a lawyer, the Captain would need to have excellent retentive skills."
"Does this mean he's going to be remembering more soon?" Mac ventured.
Dr. Pena and Commander Brubeck looked at each other.
"The longer he goes without remembering, the less likely it is his memory will return." Harm's neurologist glanced between Harm and Mac. "I know this isn't what you wanted to hear, but you've been awake almost thirty-six hours. I would have liked to have seen some basic recognition by now."
"You said that pure amnesia was unlikely," Mac reminded him.
"That's true. Pure retrograde amnesia isn't very common, but not impossible. The brain is very complex. We've viewed the MRI. There are a couple of dark spots that might explain the loss of memory, but there's no way of knowing if they're the result of the car accident or from a previous blow."
"It could be that as you go back to your normal routine you may still have some recall," Dr. Pena added.
"Recall?" It was Harm who spoke this time.
"Coming up with pieces of information from your memory: the name of someone you've recognized, where you were when Kennedy was killed. Much the way you remembered where you were born and the year you graduated from the Academy," Brubeck explained.
"But not my memory?" Harm could feel his palms beginning to sweat. The thought of going through his entire life in a state of constant confusion and loss was beyond horrifying.
"I'm not saying that. I just want you to be realistically prepared for what's ahead of you." Commander Brubeck wished he could give them a more definitive answer. Unlike a broken bone, there was no timeframe for healing a battered brain.
"All things considered, you're progressing nicely. You seem to be doing well off the catheter. From my stand point, you could be ready to go home in a couple of days." Dr. Pena couldn't help but notice the panicked look in Harm's eyes. "It will be up to your orthopedic surgeon to determine if he wants you to undergo physical therapy here at the hospital or as an outpatient. An occupational therapist will be by some time tomorrow to see if you need any other assistance before we can discharge you."
Mac stared blankly at the two physicians. She'd heard every word they had said, but somehow felt as though she'd been listening in a wind tunnel. None of this made any sense. She'd just been told she might be able to bring her husband home in a few days and instead of rejoicing, there was a sinking sense of dread in the pit of her stomach.
Harm felt the same dread. Now what? How much could he pretend? How long could he keep this up?
"You've had a busy day. It's time you got some rest." With a short nod, the two doctors left their patient to digest what little information they'd shared.
Harm ran his hands over his face. He was suddenly feeling very tired. The doctors were right; he needed to rest.
Mac hated not being able to touch and comfort him. Moments like this, when his gestures were so like the man she'd lived with for the last eleven years, it was almost possible for her to forget he was technically a stranger now.
"Harm..." she started.
"Not now. Whatever it is, not now." Harm raised his hand, palm out asking for silence. "I'd like to be left alone please."
"Yeah, sure," Mac flustered. The truth was, she was desperately in need of a little fresh air herself. Making a conscious choice, she grabbed her things and walked casually over to Harm's bedside. "You get some rest. Good night." Before he could react, she'd leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, then turned and walked away. If he was going to be coming home soon, it was up to her to make things as normal as possible, no matter what it took.
Harm watched the door slowly closing. Perhaps if he closed his eyes and got some sleep, when he woke up he'd discover all of this was nothing more than a bad dream.
Rabb home
2200 hours
Mac had watched the kids bustle about getting ready for bed. She could feel their happiness permeating every nook of the large home. She almost hadn't noticed the dreary feel their life had taken on. Apparently Harm had pulled it off. The kids didn't appear to realize he had no recollection of them. They smiled, and laughed, and teased each other as though all was right with the world.
"Thought you might like a cup." Trish handed Mac a steaming cup of tea.
"Oh, thanks." Accepting the proffered mug, Mac shifted on the sofa, making room for her mother-in-law.
"Now what?" Trish asked softly. Mac had tried to fill Trish in as much as possible on the doctor's report without the kids noticing.
"I don't know. For the first time in my life I have absolutely no idea what to expect. I'm worried what will happen if the kids find out he doesn't really remember them."
"They won't. Somewhere down deep there has to be a part of him that feels those are his children. There just has to be." Trish wasn't too sure whom she was trying to convince, but she couldn't let go of that hope, she just couldn't.
"I hope you're right." Mac stood up. "If you don't mind, I think I'm going to head off to bed."
"Of course not. I'm going to watch TV down here a little longer then call it a night myself."
Leaning over to kiss Trish on the cheek, Mac slowly made her way back to her room. Trish had quickly become the mother Mac never had. From the day of the wedding Trish had insisted Mac call her Mom, and from that moment on Trish treated Mac like her own flesh and blood. Mac had no idea how she would have survived the last few weeks if not for Trish's support.
Walking straight to the bathroom, Mac set her cup down on the counter and reached around to grab her nightgown from the back of the door. Her fingers froze when they brushed against the soft texture of Harm's robe hanging by hers. Gingerly she rubbed her hands up and down the velvety fabric before pulling it from the hook and slipping it on.
Forgetting all about changing her clothes or the warm tea, Mac wrapped herself in the warmth of her husband's scent. She missed him so much. Rubbing her arms, she walked over to the bed and dropped heavily on the colorful spread. With a sweeping gesture, she pulled Harm's pillow from the opposite side of the bed and curled it into her arms. "Please come back to me," she whispered. "Please?"
Chapter 19The next day had gone much better than Mac had expected. When Trisha and Tommy arrived, there was no hesitation in Harm's greeting. The two kids climbed up on the bed, Tommy tucked under his good arm and Trisha on the opposite side facing Harm.
"I brought some more books in case you still want me to read to you." Her mom had told her that with Dad awake it was no longer necessary, but Trisha had hoped he'd still want her to continue.
"What did you bring?" Harm raised his chin, trying to see over the edge of the book.
"Prince and the Pauper."
He had a feeling that was supposed to mean something to him. "What do you say, squirt?" Harm squeezed his son lightly.
"It's okay, but it doesn't have pictures."
Mac bit her lips, holding back a chuckle.
"Maybe next time your mom can bring a picture book too and Trisha can read both books to us."
Harm didn't see Trisha roll her eyes. She wasn't really interested in reading to Tommy, but would if that's what her dad wanted.
"I think that's an excellent idea," Mac interjected from across the room in an appropriately maternal tone, then settled back to watch her family interact. She could almost kid herself into pretending that all was as it should be. Harm had found a way to put on a charming show for the kids, but he was still distant and unnerved around her.
Bethesda
Three days later
"I'd say you're all set to go home, Captain." The occupational therapist took a step back. There had been little need for her. Harm had remembered most of his basic skills without any prodding. It had taken him a couple of tries to recall how to tie his shoes, a difficult task with his shoulder injury, but that had been the only thing that slowed him down. He'd even managed to tie a perfect knot in his tie without any assistance from her.
"I told you this wasn't necessary." Harm had just about grown sick of all the little tests he'd had to pass the last couple of days, determining what skills he had and had not forgotten. Apparently the only damn thing he couldn't remember was people and events. He'd give anything at this time to remember his children and have forgotten how to tie a tie.
"You know how the military is about SOP. It won't be long before you have full mobility in that shoulder and no one will ever know you'd been injured."
Harm raised one side of his mouth in a half-hearted grin. If he didn't laugh with this woman he would have screamed. No one would ever know. The problem is he would never know what he'd forgotten either.
Mac had just come from the airport. Trish's gallery manager had suffered a minor heart attack and she was needed back in California ASAP. Trish had struggled with the decision, but there was no one else who could take over, and Harm was awake now and on the road to recovery. Mac assured her everything would be fine, and with a little extra prodding and frequent reassurance, she'd waved goodbye as Trish walked off in search of her gate.
Coming down the hospital hallway, Mac had been a little startled to hear laughter coming from Harm's room. Who could that be? Quietly, stepping into the room, she froze, watching Harm and the OT interacting. There was a subtle banter that reminded her of how she and Harm had related when they first met.
For the first time since he'd proposed, Mac felt the sting of jealousy. Not that plenty of women hadn't flirted with her husband. She was used to that. He was gorgeous and charming, and she'd have to be a fool to think all women would respect the wedding ring. But this was different. This wasn't 'her' Harm anymore. Even though Mac knew the OT was only being friendly, she suddenly realized that this Harm might not react to serious flirting with the fierce loyalty her Harm always had. The fear and doubts that had been lingering heavily in the back of her mind squeezed at her heart. Swallowing hard, she stepped fully into the room wearing a smile she didn't feel.
"So, what's the verdict?"
Harm looked up at his wife. "Apparently I can still tie my shoes."
Mac was pleased to see Harm's lighthearted approach to the situation was extended to her as well.
"Mm, you were always good at that," Mac teased back.
"Please tell me I had other fortes?" Harm laughed, shaking his head.
"A few," Mac raised one brow suggestively. This was more fun than she'd expected when she'd first entered the room. For just a few minutes she was talking with her Harm.
"I don't think you two need me anymore." Amused with the dialogue, the therapist turned to face Mac. "If he needs any assistance getting back into his gown, I'm sure you can help him." She politely waved goodbye and moved on to her next patient, unaware of how her comment had fallen like a wet blanket on the other two people in the room.
Harm had not allowed Mac to help him with anything since that first day she'd helped him back into bed. He'd insisted on calling for the nurse for any assistance. At first Mac tried to insist. She was his wife, after all. She could help him to the bathroom. She wouldn't have to stay, even the nurse merely stood waiting for him outside the bathroom door, but after a couple of near heated rants she'd given up trying.
Bethesda
Next day
1130 hours
"Sorry I'm a little late. Got called in by General O'Neil this morning. Something that couldn't be handled by phone."
Harm nearly grimaced when he saw Mac in uniform. He'd been told she was a Marine but seeing her standing in front of him left him with that annoying feeling of having a memory just outside his reach.
"No hurry. The doctor just signed the papers a little while ago."
"Did he have anything to say?"
"You mean, besides good luck? No." Harm had wished the orthopedist had preferred he do therapy in-house. The doctors seemed to be in a much bigger hurry to get him home to his normal surroundings than he was. Playing dad for a little while every afternoon had been getting easier, but he wasn't ready for the role full time, not yet. And then there was his wife.
What little time they'd had alone without doctors, nurses, therapists, visitors or the children, was spent with Mac trying to bring Harm up to date on who all their friends were. There had been no opportunity to discuss anything personal, and certainly not his impending discharge. Each day was spent rehashing whatever history there was between Harm and that day's visitor. He'd learned of how he'd once helped Jennifer Coates and eventually requested her for his yeoman in England, and how later when her husband was sent stateside to work on a special taskforce, she'd requested a transfer back to DC. Mac filled him in on Bud's history from awkward ensign to Harm's XO in England. For a split second it had almost looked as though Harm was going to recognize Sturgis, but then he didn't. He did however, seem to enjoy Sturgis' visit most of all. Sturgis retold several stories from their early days at Annapolis, some of which seemed to fall on deaf ears, while others had Harm laughing out loud. Now Harm had to face the reality and responsibilities of being a husband to a woman he couldn't remember.
The smiling nurse at the door interrupted the awkward tension that had filled the room.
"Time for you to leave us, sir." The plump redhead strolled past Mac, maneuvering a wheel chair closer to the bed.
"I don't need that."
"SOP," she smiled sweetly. Obviously this was not the first time she'd had this discussion with a departing patient. No matter how sweet she sounded, it was quite clear this particular subject was not up for debate.
After Harm had settled into the chair and the nurse had wheeled him into the corridor, Mac asked, "Is there any reason I can't take over from here?"
"No, ma'am." Stepping aside, the redhead turned over the reins. "God speed."
"Thank you, Lieutenant," Harm and Mac replied.
"You realize I feel absolutely ridiculous having you push me out of the building," Harm mumbled.
"You heard what she said, it's SOP."
"What exactly is SOP? Everyone keeps saying that. As a matter of fact, I'm getting tired of everyone talking in code." Harm hadn't meant to snap at Mac but the truth was the closer he got to the front door, the more fitful the butterflies in his stomach became.
"Standard Operating Procedure." Mac decided to let the rest of the comment about talking in code slide.
As they exited the hospital, a handsome young Marine corporal passed them on his way into the building. This was the first time Mac had been on the grounds in uniform and the first time she'd needed to return a salute.
Harm had been watching the people pass by in the different hallways. The knot in his stomach was twisting tighter and tighter as they reached the front door when he caught a young Marine corporal saluting from the corner of his eye. The next thing Harm knew his hand was at his brow and his ride had suddenly stopped.
Chapter 20
Harm and Mac had ridden home in nearly total silence. Each was contemplating the possible significance of Harm's returning a salute. As much as Harm had wanted to believe that it was a meaningful breakthrough, by the time they'd pulled into the driveway he was convinced it had no more importance than the fact that he could still tie his shoes. Most likely it was something that had been deeply ingrained in his memory at one time.
"We're here." Mac turned off the car engine.
"Nice." Harm scanned the large older home.
"Still needs a lot of work." Mac found herself climbing slowly out of the car. This was ridiculous. She and Harm had pulled up in front of this house hundreds of times. Pausing at the base of the front steps, she waited for Harm to catch up.
"New steps?" Harm kicked the top step with his foot.
"Porch had a little wood rot. It was the first thing you fixed."
"Me? I thought I was a lawyer and a pilot. Don't tell me I'm a carpenter, too?" Harm stepped onto the porch, carefully eyeing the new wood.
"Well, you have a multitude of skills." Mac gave the heavy front door a shove.
"So it seems." Harm followed Mac into the house, his steps careful, tentative. It was almost as though he was expecting something to blow up in his face. When a large german shepherd came bounding towards him, he almost thought it had. Greeting the dog warily, Mac finally called her off.
"Okay, Lady, that's enough. Go play!" Harm watched as the dog scurried off towards the back of the house.
"I forgot to tell you about Lady, sorry. Would you like me to show you around, or do you think you should rest first?"
Harm glanced down the hall and up the stairs. "Maybe just the first floor." He had come a long way since he'd woken up, but his muscles were still sore from his emergency surgery and he had a long road ahead of him, rebuilding his endurance levels.
"This is the dining room. We haven't used it very often yet." Mac watched as Harm casually glanced around the room then led the way further down the hall. "This door is to the basement, but we'll go down there another time. Unless you're in the mood to do laundry?"
Harm smiled and shook his head, following Mac to the next door.
"This is the office."
One entire wall was covered with books, mostly law books. The two desks faced each other with a birds' eye view of the front yard through the large windows. On each desk were several photos. A few Harm recognized as ones Mac had taken to the hospital.
"Which one's mine?"
"That one." Mac pointed to the slightly larger mahogany desk. "When you were single, you had this cracker box sized desk in your little apartment. By the time we moved to England you decided it was time for a real desk. That's the one you picked out."
Harm ran his fingers over the hard wood, stopping at a gilded 8 x 10 photograph. Picking the picture up, he studied it carefully. "You were a beautiful bride."
"Thank you." Mac shifted uncomfortably. When Harm finally put the photo back on the desk, she walked across the hall. "This is the guest room."
Harm noticed this room had a markedly more feminine feel to it. The dining room and office were in deep colors, yet this room was in pale shades of yellows and greens. As if Mac were reading his mind, she explained, "Your mom decorated this room while she was waiting for you to wake up. It gave her something else to focus on. She strokes a pretty mean paintbrush."
The next stop was the kitchen. "It's a little dated, but we were waiting to see what happens when Cresswell retires before beginning the updates."
"What does a Cresswell have to do with the kitchen?"
"General Cresswell is the JAG."
"The job I'm supposed to be a shoe-in for?"
"That's right."
Harm thought about it a minute. "And if I'm the new JAG, I won't have time to remodel a kitchen?"
"Exactly."
"But if I stay on the CNO's staff I would have time?"
"Well, not really," Mac chuckled quietly.
"Then I don't get it."
"Well, neither did I, but I've learned sometimes it doesn't pay to try." Mac turned and walked into the den. "Why don't you take a seat and I'll fix you some lunch."
Harm looked carefully around the room. He could feel the love literally surrounding him. There were photographs on the mantle, on the end tables, and dispersed throughout the built-in bookshelves. On the coffee table there were several pieces of 'modern' pottery, undoubtedly the careful creations of their children. Ribbons and trophies were scattered among the other family memorabilia.
"Is there anything special you'd like to eat?" Mac had waited till he'd had a few minutes to look around before interrupting.
"I... I don't know." He tried to think if he had some favorite food he'd enjoy, but nothing came to mind.
"How about keeping it simple, a grilled ham and cheese with a bowl of soup?"
"The sandwich sounds fine, but if I never see another bowl of soup again..."
"Clam chowder?" Mac interrupted with a smile.
Harm could tell by the tone of her voice that must have been something he liked. At the moment, though, he had no idea what clam chowder would be like. "Okay, sounds good," he smiled. When she'd turned and walked away, Harm picked up a nearby trophy and took a seat on the overstuffed sofa.
Ladybugs
FCSA
Champions
2009
Harm was still staring at the little statue when Mac came into the room carrying a tray of food.
"What's FCSA?"
"Falls Church Soccer Association." Mac set the tray on the table in front of him. "Thought you might be more comfortable in here."
"Thanks. This looks good." Harm picked up the spoon and took a slow slurp of the thick white liquid. "Mm, you're right. This is very good."
Mac watched as Harm swallowed a few more spoonfuls before taking a bite of his sandwich. "You didn't remember, did you?"
Harm's eyes dropped as he shook his head. He hated the look of disappointment in her eyes every time they discovered something new he couldn't recall. Finding the nerve to glance up at her, he waved his spoon. "Your soup's going to get cold."
Mac nodded and picked up her spoon.
"Tell me more about the house."
"Well. You'd originally gotten orders for Centcom in Florida, so I flew ahead to Tampa and had a house all picked out when we got word that you were being sent to the CNO's office instead."
"Does that happen often?"
"Last minute changes? Not usually. The Navy is noted for moving slowly, not suddenly, but there was some major snafu in operations planning. Lots of heads hit the chopping block and billets needed to be filled fast. Your history of multiple designators moved you to the top of the list."
"What about you?"
"I resigned my commission when you got transferred to England in 2005. Shortly after we arrived in Virginia, I got recalled, assigned to the Pentagon."
"Recalled?"
"The military has five years in which they can recall an officer to active service if they need you. The same garbage that created a need for a fighter pilot lawyer at the CNO's created a need for a multi-lingual lawyer fluent in Farsi on the Joint Staff at the Pentagon."
"I see. So how did we wind up with this house?"
Mac smiled at the memory. "You let Pickles poop in the yard."
"Pickles?"
"The orders to move came so quickly, we sent our stuff to storage and moved in with Bud and Harriet. They live right around the corner. One night you volunteered to walk their golden retriever and the owner caught her pooping in the yard. Over there." Mac pointed out the window at some distant spot.
"So I bought the house as an apology?" Harm frowned curiously.
"No, but it turns out the owner was a retired air force pilot. Every time you'd walk by with Pickles, the two of you would spend more time talking than the poor dog spent walking."
Harm smiled as he listened, feeling belatedly sorry for the dog.
"Anyhow, after about a week, you started discussing the frustration of not being able to find anything suitable and having to continue imposing on the Roberts, and Jack offered you this house. He said he was getting too old to keep up with it and his wife had been nagging him to retire to Florida, so you struck a deal on the front porch with a handshake and three weeks later we'd moved into our new home."
"So I picked this house?" Harm looked around the room again.
"Yeah, you did. We all loved it, even if there was a huge hole on the front porch."