Who Am I.
Chapter 21
After clearing up the lunch dishes, Mac closed her eyes praying for wisdom. How do two total strangers interact as husband and wife? Forcing her feet to move one slow step at a time, she returned to the den and Harm. "It'll be a few hours before the kids get home. Would you like to take a nap?"
"I didn't know Trisha played soccer." Harm had picked up the trophy again and was staring at it.
"I guess I forgot to mention it." Mac's heart broke just a little at the pained look in his eyes.
"I want to know more. Are there photo albums, movies, something?"
"Yeah," Mac nodded her head, a small smile taking over her face. "Yeah."
Harm's eyes followed Mac as she rushed across the room and pulled out several large books from the cabinet. Dropping the pile of precariously balanced albums on the floor, she sat down right next to him and enthusiastically opened the first one and began rambling.
Mac hadn't dared to stay very near to Harm in the hospital. She'd sensed having her close made him uncomfortable, almost frightened, but now she hadn't given it a single thought. She'd sat so close to Harm, happily explaining every photograph and its history, she hadn't realized that he was staring intently at her and ignoring the photographs.
He'd never noticed how delicious Mac smelled. Somehow the antiseptic smell of hospital had managed to cover over everything, but now he could easily tell even her hair smelled wonderful. Her sweet scent was quickly filling his senses. His heart was beating faster and faster as the essence of this woman began to permeate every corner of his being. What was happening? Was he remembering, or was this just a hormonal reaction to a beautiful woman, because he had to admit, she was beautiful. More and more every day, as the shock of his situation wore off, the reality of just how beautiful she was had been growing clearer and clearer.
"This was his second birthday. No one realized he wasn't playing with the rest of the children. When we finally found him in the dining room his hands and face were covered with icing and all he had to say was, 'cake'. Everyone laughed so hard we were crying."
Mac suddenly realized that Harm hadn't said a word through all the photos. Tilting her head in his direction, she was confused by the way he was watching her. "Are you okay? Is this too much at once? Should I take a break?"
"Hm?" Harm looked down at the album and chuckled quietly at the photo of the little boy covered in cake. "Tommy?" he asked, oblivious to her recent explanation.
"Yeah. Should we stop?"
"No." Harm focused on the album. " Please, I want to see more."
"Well, this was his third birthday. Admiral Boone gave him a basketball. He was so excited, he was shaking. You can't tell from the picture, but I think we have it on video somewhere. I'll have to get those together later." Mac flipped the page delighted with the interest Harm was showing, the curious way he'd been looking at her earlier already forgotten.
They talked and laughed over photos of the children for the next two hours. Harm seemed especially amused by Trisha's favorite twirl dress. It was green velvet with an embroidered white snowflake on front, and every time she spun around the skirt flew up around her in flowing waves. She'd spent most of that winter spinning around telling everyone to watch her twirl.
"She was precious, wasn't she?" Harm asked, his voice obviously pained by the lack of memory.
"Yeah, she really was, is." Mac continued staring at the row of twirl photos.
"I was close to them, wasn't I?" Harm leaned back on the sofa, mindlessly picking up another album.
"I thought so. You were a good dad. You put the same driven determination into being with your children that you'd placed on your search for your father."
Harm set the album he'd just opened aside and picked up another. "I don't see any photos of us. Do you have albums of us before the kids were born?"
"Oh, sure." Mac's heart fluttered at his request. Pulling out a thin album, she retook her previous position beside Harm and opened the book. "This was the first year we worked together." Mac pointed to a newspaper clipping of the two of them after the terrorists had taken over Mercy Hospital.
"Wow. Not bad for an injured lawyer." Harm nodded his head in self-approval.
"Not bad for an injured lawyer WITH a Marine partner," Mac corrected, moving on to another photo. "This was a great night." Mac had forgotten how many photos had been taken the evening the Admiral had stopped over unexpectedly, when they were all worried about Josh Pendry and the murder he'd witnessed.
"Harriet and Bud look so young. Who are these people?" Harm pointed to Annie and Josh.
"Josh and Annie Pendry. She was the widow of one of your best friends from flight school."
"I don't remember you mentioning them. Have we lost touch?"
"You haven't seen them since you and she broke up and she forbade you to see Josh again."
"I dated her?" Harm was clearly surprised.
"For a little while. It didn't work out."
"I dated a best friend's wife?" Harm seemed stunned.
"Widow, and Luke had been dead for two years." Mac marveled at the expression in Harm's eyes. She could still read them. The honorable man she loved was hiding in there somewhere, appalled that he would make a move on a friend's wife. "It's not how it sounds. You were a good friend to them after Luke died."
"Apparently." Harm looked at the date under the photograph, January 1998.
"This was a great case. We got to chase three retired SEALs to Florida. The Admiral was so pleased with us, he let us stay the weekend when the case was solved."
Harm couldn't take his eyes off of Mac in a bikini. Wow. "Let me see if I understand this. I worked with a woman who looked like this in a bikini, but I was dating an old friend's widow instead?"
Mac chuckled loudly. "I guess that's one way to look at it."
"When did we start dating?" Harm flipped forward a few pages, looking for some insight into their relationship.
"We sort of skipped the dating part." Mac blushed slightly. She wasn't sure she wanted to explain this to him now. "You know, the kids will be home in a little while and I think it might be a good idea to get some rest. Do you want to lie down here, or go up to bed?"
"I've spent enough time in bed. This will be great." Harm hadn't realized how tired he'd gotten. Mac was right; he was going to need to rest before the children got home.
He could hear Mac shuffling around, putting away the albums, and tidying up. She'd gently placed a blanket over him before leaving the room. It didn't make any sense. From what he could sense from her reactions and responses, they appeared to have been a very close couple, yet their premarital history seemed near non-existent. Something wasn't right, but he was too tired to figure it out now.
Chapter 22
Harm didn't have to be a genius to figure out the sound of pounding hooves quickly approaching was undoubtedly two small children running up the wooden porch steps. When the front door flung open with a loud thud, his speculation was quickly confirmed.
"DAD!" Tommy dropped everything he was carrying on the floor and ran into the den where Harm was still resting.
"Tommy! I swear, do you have to leave everything in the middle of the floor!" Trisha sounded incredibly like a mother hen.
Mac came running up the stairs when she heard the troops coming home. "Remember, your father's not well," she called from the basement door, picking up Tommy's things as she made her way to the den.
"Take it easy sport, your mom is right," Harm winced as the young boy wrapped his arms around his dad squeezing tightly. Lady pounced nearby, having taken all the activity as her cue to greet Harm again.
"Okay, that's enough. Tommy, you take all of this up to your room, and take Lady with you." Mac held out the backpack, cleats, and miscellaneous papers she'd collected from the hall.
"You okay?" Trisha asked, leaning over and gently kissing her dad hello.
"Couldn't be better." Harm still had absolutely no recollection of these two children, but nonetheless, after the two-hour photo session, he felt he knew them a little better today than he had yesterday.
"Do you have any homework?" Mac asked, still standing in the doorway.
"A little. Can I do it in here?"
Mac nodded her head yes. She and Harm usually preferred their children do homework in the quiet of their rooms, hoping it would help encourage good study habits later on when class work became more challenging, but she couldn't see any reason to insist on that today.
"Are they always that energetic?" Harm had waited till both kids were upstairs to ask.
"Pretty much, yeah." Mac smiled broadly.
No sooner had Trisha returned with her homework than Tommy was bouncing into the room. "You ready, Dad?"
"Ready for what?"
"Practice."
Harm turned blankly towards Mac.
"No, honey," Mac came over from the shelves where she'd been hunting for home videos. "Daddy won't be ready to coach soccer for a long time yet."
Coach soccer? Mac had neglected to give Harm that little tidbit of information in all of her rundowns. Taking a few moments, he scanned his memory banks. As usual, he drew a complete blank. He had absolutely no idea how to play, never mind coach, soccer.
"It's still not time to leave. Why don't you go kick the ball around in the backyard for a little while until we need to go?" Mac suggested.
Huffing quietly, Tommy grabbed the soccer ball and ran out the back door.
"Mac, I don't know how to coach soccer."
"That's okay," she smiled. "You never did."
"What?" he frowned.
"Everyone decided since we used to live in England, you'd be the best qualified dad, so they voted you as coach."
"You're kidding?"
"Nope." The grin on Mac's face grew a little broader. He'd had this exact expression on his face the day the dads informed him he'd been chosen to replace Coach Hammons, who'd been transferred to Buffalo.
"You're serious?" Harm wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh with Mac or wipe the silly grin off her face.
"Yup." Her bright smile was growing into an amused grin.
"You're not going to let me off the hook are you?" A small smile was beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth.
"'Fraid not." Mac was almost giggling.
"Okay, 'mom', tell me, how do I coach a game I know nothing about?" Her humor was infectious, Harm was chuckling now too, and he knew better.
Trying not to laugh out loud, Mac turned around and reached onto the bookcase, retrieving a thin book. "Here you go."
"What Every Dad Needs to Know About Coaching Soccer," Harm read aloud. "Gee, thanks."
"Thought you'd appreciate it. Who knows, maybe the season will be over before your doctor releases you." Momentarily biting her lower lip, she chuckled again. "Then you won't need to be ready till next season!"
Quickly, Mac turned around. "Gotta go!" Laughing, she rushed out the back door calling for Tommy.
Harm sat laughing quietly, still holding the book in his hand. Glancing across the coffee table at Trisha, he looked back at the cover, then over to where Mac had just escaped. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
Later that night
Tommy's room
Harm sat on the edge of the bed reading Huckabey Plays Hockey. Half way through the colorful book, Harm smiled at the adorable sleeping little boy. He was amazed the child had managed to stay awake as long as he had. The kid was one massive ball of energy.
"Trisha's waiting for you to kiss her goodnight." Mac stood in the doorway watching her two favorite men.
Patting Tommy gently on the back, Harm slowly stood up. He'd be happy when he could move about without any soreness or discomfort. Following Mac down the hall, he found Trisha patiently waiting her turn.
"Good night, Princess." Harm sat by the bedside. Leaning over was still not an option.
"Sweety, you're going to have to sit up to kiss Daddy," Mac prompted.
"Oh!" Trisha sprang up immediately, then gingerly hugged her dad, kissed his cheek, and snuggled back under the covers.
"Sleep well." Harm patted his daughter the same way he had his son and followed Mac across the hall, stopping at the threshold.
Mac had strolled into the room, not giving Harm any thought. She'd paused by the dresser to remove her jewelry, as she did every night before retiring, when she realized Harm was still standing almost nervously at the door.
"Is something wrong?" she frowned, not sure if she should go to him. They'd had a very calm first day, but she had to remind herself that the often confused, frustrated, and sometimes angry man before her was unpredictable.
"I... I was wondering if maybe it wouldn't make more sense if I... uh, slept downstairs." Harm's eyes darted briefly over to the bed.
"Oh." Following his eyes to the bed and back, Mac took a short breath. "I'm sorry, it never... never occurred to me you would want to sleep... somewhere else." Crossing her arms, she gently rubbed them, trying to chase away the chill that had come from nowhere.
Harm didn't know what to say. He knew there was nothing improper if they shared a bed. They were legally married, but it felt wrong. It felt like taking advantage somehow, and yet the look on her face left him wishing he hadn't said anything.
"I'd better go get clean sheets for you." Mac turned rather abruptly, walking past him.
"Mac." Harm reached out and gently grabbed her arm.
Stopping short at his side, "Yes?" Her eyes drew upward, locking on his.
Harm found himself drawn into her large, sad, dark eyes. "What would your Harm do?"
"My Harm hated sleeping alone." They had both dreaded assignments that forced them to sleep apart.
"I see." Harm was still holding gently onto Mac, his eyes flickered briefly downward at the hand gripping her arm.
"But he also slept in a chair our entire trip to Russia," Mac smiled at the memory. She just wished the noble side of her Harm wasn't winning out tonight.
"Mac." Harm hesitated a beat, struggling for the right words. "Do you want me to stay downstairs?" His voice was low and unsteady. Releasing his grip, his eyes once again locked onto hers.
To Mac it felt as though Harm's fingers were slipping away in slow motion, as though he were slipping even further away. Her voice stuck in her throat, but she managed to quietly whisper, "No." Still staring into his troubled gaze, she cleared her throat, "I don't expect, I mean, you wouldn't have to... that is..."
Lightly tapping her arm, he interrupted her, his voice a little stronger. "Which side of the bed is mine?"
"Left side." Mac watched him step into the room. Still gripped by the grappling emotions of fear, desperation, and now relief, she thought maybe tonight she could finally get a decent night's sleep. Knowing Harm was where he belonged made all the difference in the world.
Chapter 23
Harm stopped when he reached his side of the bed. He stared long and hard at the comfortable looking piece of furniture before scanning the room and turning back to where Mac was still standing.
"I don't know what to do," he almost whispered.
Mac was momentarily confused. She wasn't sure what Harm was referring to. Surely, he wasn't worried about having to 'be' with her. Before she could analyze the situation further, Harm had read the curl in her brow.
"Where are my pajamas?" he started. "Do I have a night-time routine?" He raised his arm to the other side of the room. "Which is the bathroom door?"
With every question Mac could see his frustration level approaching a breaking point. The day had been so easy and smooth, she'd forgotten she still needed to walk him through every step of their lives.
"You don't like pajamas," she interrupted quickly before he could work himself into a tizzy.
Harm's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped visibly open, but no words came out. Mac didn't dare try to imagine what was running through his mind.
"You prefer sleeping in your boxers. In the winter you'll sleep with a t-shirt, too." Mac hesitated waiting for some reaction, deciding it was probably best to keep talking. Walking around the bed, she opened a door. "This is our closet. It's a walk-in, unusual for these older homes." She moved a few feet to the next door. "This is the linen closet, and over here is the bathroom." Holding the bathroom door open, she waved one arm into the room.
Harm took a few steps closer, and looked inside. Turning back to look at Mac, his voice was weak, almost scared. "Do I at least own pajamas?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, you do." A flood of relief washed through her. The look on his face told her a negative response would not have been well received. "You have one pair. We bought them for that summer vacation we took with the Roberts family by the shore when we were stationed in England. We shared a cottage and you thought it would be more prudent to sleep in pajamas." Hurrying into the closet, Mac rummaged through a few shelves before pulling out the nightwear.
"Here you go."
"Thank you. Do you want to go first?" he asked almost timidly.
"Go first?" Mac was confused again.
"The bathroom. To change."
"Oh! No, I usually change in here, um, I mean, why don't you go first."
Harm nodded his head, proceeding to the bathroom he stopped short in the doorway. "Did we bring my toothbrush and things from the hospital?"
"No." Mac quickly rushed past him into the bathroom. "I thought you'd prefer your own things." She reached across the sink and picked out his toothbrush. "You prefer the Arm and Hammer toothpaste. I use the one for sensitive teeth."
"Thank you." Harm stiffly accepted the toothbrush and waited for Mac to leave before continuing on his original mission.
Mac watched the door close and heard the latch of the lock. A sinking feeling slammed into the pit of her stomach. They had never locked each other out of the bathroom, probably a natural progression from Harm's old apartment that didn't even have a bathroom door, never mind a lock. For the first time all day it hit her she was about to sleep with a stranger. He had done such an excellent job of pretending for the children's sake that she had allowed herself to almost believe things weren't really different. But they were. Her Harm may be buried somewhere deep inside this Harm and trying to get out, but the man locked in her bathroom and putting on pajamas was not her husband.
When Mac came back to bed after her turn in the bathroom, Harm was sound asleep at the very edge of the bed. Quietly, she turned out the light and slid under the covers. Even if the husband who would wrap himself around her every night before falling asleep was gone, she was still thankful at least he was alive.
The next morning, Mac had gotten the children off to school and was cleaning the kitchen when she heard Harm coming down the stairs. She had tried to keep the kids as quiet as possible so he could get some much needed rest. Although he'd done a wonderful job of hiding his discomfort, she knew parts of him had to still hurt like hell.
"Good morning," she called to him cheerily.
"Do I have a bathrobe?"
Mac wasn't used to seeing Harm come downstairs looking quite so rumpled.
"I think your mom washed it and put it away. Usually it's on the hook behind the bathroom door."
"Did she put away my slippers, too?"
"Actually, they're under my side of the bed." Mac wanted to kick herself. She should have realized the things she took for granted would be a source of major frustration for him, and having spent the last few weeks prancing around the house in his oversized slippers and leaving them under her side of the bed wasn't helping him any.
"Your side?"
"I was... borrowing them."
A slow rising flood of understanding surged through his system washing away all his frustrations. It was so easy to forget he wasn't the only one struggling. He might not be able to find his slippers or hairbrush, but she couldn't find her husband. He was going to have to remember to cut everyone, including himself, some slack.
"If you wouldn't mind helping me find the bathrobe, please?"
"Of course not." Mac dropped the sponge on the counter and hurried up the stairs. By the time Harm arrived behind her, she'd already pulled out the slippers and the robe and was rummaging in the closet. "Do you know what you'd like to wear today?" She waited for a response, not surprised at the silence. Stepping out of the closet, she handed Harm a pile of clothing, "Since you don't have to go anywhere, I thought these might be comfortable for you."
Harm accepted the clothes and smiled without looking at them. "I'm sure they'll be fine. Thank you."
The remainder of the day was spent watching home videos. Mac explained as much as she could at different intervals. She especially enjoyed telling the stories that made Harm laugh. They watched a video of Bud and Harriet's wedding. Harm was holding his sides in pain as she explained about the pregnant stripper, Lydia Beaumont Sims, and the Admiral joining them in jail. Her heart was still fluttering from the sound of Harm's voice when he'd casually commented, "You haven't changed at all. You're still just as beautiful."
He'd been so intent on watching the video that he never noticed the way Mac's cheeks had flushed at the complement. Until now, she wasn't even sure if this Harm found her attractive.
In only two days, Harm seemed so much more comfortable in his role as a father. Mac could almost see a glint of pride in his eyes as he watched the kids roam the house. At dinnertime she was even surprised when she heard Harm reminding Tommy not to talk with his mouth full. When the kids were home, it was as if her Harm was back. He often stumbled over things he should know, should have recognized, but the kids would smile at him and remind him, or explain it to him, and everything would quickly be right with the world again. It didn't seem to bother them that their dad didn't remember Tommy's game winning goal, or Trisha's piano recital. Trisha got a kick out of teaching her dad how to play tic tac toe, and Harm seemed to take it all in stride. It was almost as if he was enjoying learning to be a dad.
If only she could find a way to help him learn about himself as easily. The look in his eyes when he couldn't find his robe or slippers this morning had almost frightened her. She didn't know what had come over him to make him smile and ask for help, but there were times, heaven help her, when she dreaded being alone with him, worrying about what he might not know next.
Chapter 24
Shortly after dinner Mac was surprised when the doorbell rang.
"Is this a good time to come in?" Meredith asked.
"We were just coming from the Roberts' house and thought we'd stop and check on Harm," AJ added.
"No, this is fine. We've had a good day. Come in, please." Mac took the couple's jackets and directed them into the den. "We have company," she called into the room.
"Uncle AJ!" Both Rabb children sprang up from in front of the TV and ran to hug two of their favorite people.
"Did you bring me any candy?" Tommy asked gleefully.
Reaching into his pocket, AJ grinned broadly, handing each child a candy cane. "Don't eat it all at once and remember to brush your teeth twice."
Harm watched the interaction with great interest. He hadn't gotten much of a feel for who this man was. Mac had explained he had been their CO for over three years before they'd gotten married, and he'd gone to great lengths in order for them to continue working together until she'd gotten pregnant with Trisha. But the significance of what she had tried to explain had escaped him. He couldn't remember anything about the Navy. The reflexive salute that day at Bethesda was the only thing that came even close to a memory of being in the Navy, and even that didn't mean anything to him. It had been an automatic response, much like covering his mouth when he yawned. No one had needed to re-teach him that, he just did it. Of all the friends he had met, this man definitely intrigued Harm the most.
"Why don't you two go get ready for bed, and then maybe Uncle AJ can be convinced to tell you a story?" Mac bribed. AJ had an unusual gift for getting the kids to bed quickly with the promise of one of his sailor stories.
"Cool!" Tommy grinned.
"If you'll excuse me a few minutes." Mac followed the children upstairs. With a child in each tub, bath time would go by more quickly this evening.
"I see you've decided to give up shaving," AJ chuckled, shaking Harm's hand.
Brushing his hand across his chin, Harm smiled pensively. "I guess so,"
"How are you feeling otherwise, son?" AJ took a seat on the nearby sofa.
"Not bad. Still moving slowly. Physical therapy starts on my shoulder tomorrow afternoon."
"I thought they started on those things right away?"
"I did have a little therapy before leaving the hospital."
AJ nodded. "Meredith, do you think you could rustle us up a couple of drinks?"
"I was just thinking that. Harm?"
"No thanks, I've got a drink, but help yourself to anything you find."
"How are you doing really?" AJ wasn't one for beating around the bush, and he'd been worried about the toll coming home would have on his longtime friend.
"It could be worse. I don't seem to have the children from hell, and my wife is pretty easy on the eyes." Harm tried to laugh the question off.
"I know you don't remember me, but we've never let each other down. When my daughter was kidnapped by the Italian mafia, you were the one to help me rescue her, breaking several international treaties in the process." A hint of smile teased the corners of AJ's mouth. Not many men would have risked so much for a CO, a friend.
Harm's eyes opened wide. He had a feeling his old self was going to continue to be full of surprises. "Would I be correct in assuming my loyalties weren't misplaced?"
AJ smiled broadly. "I did my best." He studied the torn look on Harm's face. The man was struggling; there was no doubt of that. "What is it, Harm?"
"I keep watching movies of a past I can't remember. Mac tells me story after story of the places we've been, things we've done, people I should know. It's like I'm reading another man's biography. I can't feel any of it. All I seem to feel is confusion and frustration. There are so many things I'm sure I should know, but I haven't got a clue."
AJ could hear the rising frustration in Harm's voice.
"I have a beautiful wife, but she's a stranger. Hell, I don't even know her favorite color, her favorite food. Does she like to hold hands or mind kissing in public? Am I supposed to touch her, hold her, kiss her? What does she like, how does she like it? I don't know! I feel like I'm living in another man's shadow and there's no way I can compete."
"Then stop trying to compete. Give yourself time," AJ started.
"I'm not going to remember," Harm huffed.
"No, but you can still learn. Harmon Rabb's history may be gone, but the man is still inside you. The essence of who you are won't change. You may not remember some unwritten code of honor that a naval officer supposedly lives by, but your heart is the same. It will show you. You don't have to remember who Harmon Rabb was to help a stranger in need, or to remember how to treat a lady, or how to love your wife."
UpstairsSame time
"Hey, lady. How's it going?" Meredith had decided AJ didn't really need a drink and had gone in search of Mac instead, not surprised to find her sitting on her bed, staring out the window. "How are you holding up?"
"He offered to sleep in the guest room," Mac mumbled.
Meredith pressed her lips and nodded slowly, "He did, did he?" She gathered by the choice of words offered that, for whatever reason, Harm had indeed slept in his own bed.
Mac nodded her head, her fingers mindlessly fiddling with her wedding ring.
"I can't imagine how hard this must be for you." Meredith sat down on the bed next to her.
"Sometimes, mostly when he's with the kids, it's like nothing happened, but the rest of the time, it's like talking to a stranger. No matter how many videos we watch, how many stories I tell him, none of it registers. None of it makes a difference. To me it's our lives, who we are. To him, they're just stories. Like watching an old movie." Mac lowered her voice so her daughter wouldn't hear.
"Things will get better. You have to remember it wasn't long ago we didn't think he was going to ever wake up."
"He didn't," Mac almost spat.
"Oh, honey. He may not have woken up the way you wanted him to, but in his heart he's here with you." Pulling Mac into a tight hug, Meredith suddenly wished she'd had a doctorate in psychology instead of English literature. "This is one time the Marines storming the beach won't help. You're going to have to be patient. Give him time. He's only been home a few days."
"My head knows that, but my heart just wants him to look at the right photograph, the right face, and remember everything. I want him back, Meredith. All of him!" Mac couldn't let herself cry. Trisha would be coming out of the bathroom soon and didn't need to find her mom bawling on the bed with Aunt Meredith.
Wiping the few tears from her cheek, Mac feigned a smile. "I'd better go check on Tommy. He must look like a prune by now."
"You're right. I'll go check on the big boys downstairs." Giving her friend one last hug, Meredith headed for the kitchen in search of a couple of drinks, praying AJ's conversation with Harm had been more productive. The last thing anyone wanted was for this thing to tear these two apart.
Chapter 25
Harm rolled over in bed, opening one eye to see the time. Mac had let him sleep in again. He'd had a somewhat restless night. The Admiral's words crept in and out of his dreams. It was all too much. He was putting all his energies into learning to be a dad again to his kids. He hadn't even tried to fathom if he could return to the Navy, or if he'd even want to, and then there was Mac.
Rubbing his face. This was all too much for him. He needed to focus on one thing at a time, one day at a time.
Mac was downstairs sorting through more home videos, picking out ones that might be especially helpful for Harm to better remember his history with the kids. They'd spent so much time looking at the videos from the early years that Harm had no idea about the things the kids remembered and talked about from the recent past.
She'd just placed another video on the stack when she heard a loud crash coming from the bedroom. Taking the stairs two steps at a time, Mac came to a screeching halt when she saw what was basically tantamount to a forty-seven year old temper tantrum. She could see through the doorway that all the lotions, perfumes and miscellaneous toiletries on the bathroom counter were scattered across the floor, and Harm was now in the bedroom tossing clothing and drawers on the floor like a madman.
"Harm!" she called loudly.
"This isn't me!" he screamed back, tossing another drawer across the room.
"HARM!" she yelled more forcefully, afraid to get any closer. Dear God. She was afraid to get close to her husband. Of all the years she'd been with Harm as colleague or lover, she'd never once been afraid of him.
"I can't find a damn thing!"
"What do you need?" Mac tried to keep her tone under control.
"EVERYTHING!" He spun around wildly. "I found a razor, but no shaving cream. I used the baby powder deodorant yesterday but I KNOW it's not mine. I can only find one hair brush, and it's PINK!"
Harm rubbed his face forcefully, almost as if he was trying to rub it away, rub away any remnant of the man he didn't know.
"Harm, take it easy," Mac urged.
"Take it easy!" he screamed. "All I can find are black socks. No brown, no blue, no white! There's a closet full of white shirts. I've got every color uniform in there you could imagine; blue, white, tan, even BDUs. That's not me! All I want is something to wear to therapy! Is that asking so much!"
Mac flinched at his use of BDU. Why could he remember meaningless things like that and not remember there's no shaving cream in the house because he uses an electric razor? Pressing her lips tightly, she promised herself she wouldn't cry, but the well of tears was pooling heavily in her eyes.
"We keep our uniforms on one side of the closet and the civvies on the other," she answered as calmly as she could despite the overwhelming urge to break down and cry.
"Civvies?" Damn that blasted code! Couldn't the military speak English like everyone else?
"Civilian clothes. If you don't like the clothes you already have, maybe we could do a little shopping and get something you're more comfortable with." Mac struggled with the tears still threatening to flow.
For the first time since he'd begun his temper tirade, Harm paused to look at Mac. Really look at her. Immediately he was struck by the watery glow in her eyes and realized two things: one, she was fighting tears, and two, she was still standing in the doorway, obviously afraid to come in.
Looking around the room, he was horrified to see the mess he'd created. All the anger had poured out of him and now he was filled with nothing but shame and disgust. Falling heavily onto his knees, he cried the tears Mac hadn't dare shed.
There were only a few times in her life Mac had seen Harm cry. This was the first time since this nightmare had begun that she had felt his pain. She'd seen his frustration, confusion and even his anger, but she'd never felt the pain. Her own fears discarded, she rushed to the floor beside him. "Get up before you hurt yourself," she urged. Wrapping an arm around him, she nudged him until he slowly got up. Keeping her arm around his waist, the two walked over and sat down, side by side, on the edge of the bed.
"I'm so sorry," Harm mumbled, his eyes focused on a pile of Mac's underwear dumped from one of the drawers. "The Admiral mentioned I needed a shave."
"The military and five o'clock shadow don't mesh well," Mac explained casually, her voice steadier.
"He was right. I looked awful. I found a razor in the shower but there was no shaving cream."
"The razor is mine. I use it on my legs with soap, not shaving cream. You have an electric razor you like. It's in the second drawer to the far right, along with your hairbrush."
"And the deodorant?"
"In the medicine cabinet. All the things on the tray are... were mine."
"What medicine cabinet?" Harm was a little surprised by Mac's calm demeanor after his insane behavior.
"That pseudo-Picasso isn't just decoration. It's the door to the medicine cabinet. You didn't like the plain oak so you changed it for something more colorful. I'm sorry. I should have thought to explain all this to you after your frustration at not finding things yesterday morning. It's just... you remember so many little things that I forget how many you can't recall."
"That's part of what's so infuriating! Why can I remember I need shaving cream to go with a razor, but can't remember I have an electric shaver?"
"You remembered BDUs," Mac snorted to herself.
"I remembered what?" Harm looked over at Mac. She was slumped over slightly. He could almost see the broken spirit; not the strong-shouldered Marine he'd come to know since he'd woken up.
"BDUs are the camouflage uniforms we have to wear in certain conditions. Usually when we're near a combat zone." Mac couldn't stop the heavy sigh that escaped. Watching Harm in so much pain had drained her almost as much as it had probably drained him.
"I... I didn't mean to scare you. I'm sorry for that too." Harm placed his elbows on his knees and dropped his face into his hands. He wasn't sure if he would ever be able to erase the terrified look in her eyes as she'd stood in the doorway watching him. He'd seen her worried, sad, even heartbroken, but never anything as primal as that look of sheer horror.
"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have reacted that way. I should know better. You would never hurt me."
Harm snorted at her blasé response. "You had every right to be scared to death at the madman loose in your bedroom, and I had no right to do that to you. I'm sorry." He didn't need to be told that his former self would never have lost control that way.
"Our bedroom," she softly corrected. "What do you say we start the morning over?" Mac took a deep breath. "Let's clean up this mess. We'll go through everything in the bathroom, closets and dressers. Anything you don't like or want, we'll put away in a box. After therapy today I can ask Harriet to take the kids home with her, and you and I can go shopping for a few things that feel more like you."
Harm stared stunned into her huge brown eyes. Just like that she'd forgiven him and moved on. "Sounds like a plan," he replied in awe of the woman beside him. He wasn't sure he could be so altruistic if the situation had been reversed.
"Good. I'll make us a fresh pot of coffee and then we can tackle... this." Mac stood up and waved her arm across the span of the room.
"Mac?" Harm tilted his head watching her walk away.
"Yes?" She hesitated.
"What's your favorite color?"
Chapter 26Roberts' Home
Two weeks later
The next couple of weeks had come and gone with little import. Harm had rearranged all of his things in the bathroom, bedroom and closet the way he wanted. It was much easier than trying to remember what used to be. Once Mac had shown him where all his civilian things were he didn't see any need to spend time shopping. Something told him shopping wasn't something he was fond of anyhow. He did, however, pack up all the uniforms and move them to the attic. He hadn't given it any serious thought, but deep down he knew he would never again be the man he had been, and a big part of that was the Navy.
By now Harm had watched every video in the house several times over. He'd studied the faces and dialogue as though he were memorizing a role for a theatrical performance. In a way that's how he felt. He was playing the part of Harmon Rabb.
The one thing he was still having a hard time filling in the blanks on was his relationship with Mac. There was plenty of information from after the wedding but very little from before. The few times he'd attempted to broach the subject, Mac brushed it off.
"Well, it looks like we finally get some peace and quiet." Bud set a beer down on the table in front of Harm.
"Oh, and how exactly did you accomplish that?"
"I had nothing to do with it. Harriet and Mac are taking the kids to Sliders and Blues for dessert. That should be good for at least two hours of entertainment. So, which game do you want to watch?" Bud grabbed the remote for the large screen TV.
"Doesn't matter to me." Harm had watched sports on TV but so far he hadn't developed the love of basketball that Mac had indicated he used to have.
Flipping the channels, Bud watched Harm out of the corner of his eye. The conversation so far had been light and friendly. The families had chatted over the weather, the children, the neighbors, and even ventured into political affairs. Very little was mentioned about anything that Harm might not remember, and discussion of the Navy and the pentagon was completely avoided.
"That shoulder is looking pretty good," Bud ventured.
"Therapy is coming along well, but I guess you know all about that."
"Yeah, I do. Takes work and persistence. Doesn't hurt to have a beautiful woman at your back," Bud smiled.
"No. I suppose not." Harm began playing with the label on his bottle.
"Something on your mind?"
"It must have been hard for you and Harriet, after the accident, I mean. Picking up where you left off."
"It didn't help that Harriet insisted on mothering me."
"I suppose there were some... rough seas there?" Harm snorted quietly. He could remember nautical metaphors and yet still had no recollection of the woman he had obviously once been very much in love with. He'd watched enough videos to notice the way he and Mac had been. The way he'd watched her when he thought she wasn't looking, the subtle touches and careful caresses. He could see it in both their eyes.
"It was tough, don't get me wrong, but no, Harriet and I never really had any trouble. She was a pillar of support. I don't think I would have made it through without her." Noticing Harm was fidgeting mindlessly with his label, Bud took a chance. "Having problems with the Colonel?"
"Not exactly."
Bud sat quietly waiting for Harm to continue.
"I mean, you can't lose something you never remember having." Harm knew he wasn't making much sense. "There's no relationship to have trouble with."
"Ah... sort of like living with your sister?"
"More like living with a neighbor. A sister I'd feel something for."
"And you don't feel anything for the Colonel?"
"Of course I do." Harm looked up at hearing his own words. "She's a lovely, smart, strong, sweet woman," he justified.
"But...?"
"I don't know. I shouldn't have said anything." Harm set the beer bottle down on the table loudly. "Why won't Mac tell me about us?"
"Us?"
"Well, we were married in October of 1999. In January of 1998 I was dating Annie Pendry. At your wetdown in April of 1999 I was dating Jordan. When the hell did I date Mac? She won't tell me. I even thought maybe it was a one night stand or something and we had to get married, but Trisha wasn't born until 2001."
Bud could hear the growing frustration in Harm's voice. "I don't know what Mac has or hasn't told you, but I think you need to see something." Standing up, Bud walked into another room. A few minutes later he returned holding two large albums.
"Harriet and Tiner had a thing for taking photographs." Bud waved for Harm to come sit next to him. "This was when you and the then-Major first met." Bud pointed to photos of Harm and Mac in the Arizona desert.
"Where was Harriet?" Harm looked at photo after photo. Even if she'd been the photographer, she should have been in at least one or two photos.
Clearing his throat, Bud admitted bashfully, "I may have started the propensity to take photos."
Harm swallowed a knowing smile and watched as Bud flipped through various pages.
"These were taken shortly after you'd escaped from poachers in the mountains. That's when Harriet thinks things changed. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but the connection between you both seemed ... stronger some how."
Bud went through more photos: the NATO ball, working together to defend the ex-SEAL accused of murder, after the terrorists at Mercy hospital.
"When was this?" There was one photo that especially caught Harm's attention. The photo was of the Admiral and a younger woman at a party, but on either side of the pair, he and Mac were looking at each other from opposite sides of the room. Harm lifted it off the page to look more closely.
"That was at the party the Admiral threw for his daughter Francesca. We didn't all know it at the time, but Mac was being stalked. You and she had concocted some trap to catch the stalker," Bud explained.
"That's the way I looked at her in some of our home movies."
"I'm not surprised."
"We weren't dating or anything?"
Bud shook his head no. "I think things were winding down with Annie at that time."
Especially curious now, Harm continued looking through more photos. Bud would explain the ones where Harm noticed the connection between him and Mac. Some were right after he'd tried to kill someone over a dead girlfriend. Some others were from Bud and Harriet's wedding. Even though Harm had apparently brought another woman, a few of the photos caught glimpses of how he and Mac had obviously felt about each other. By the time Harm got to the photos from the party at the Sudanese Embassy, he'd seen enough.
"What you're saying is that Mac and I were in love and did nothing about it?" Harm closed the album.
"I believe so."
"This went on for..."
"Almost three years." Bud did the calculations for him.
"What changed?"
"We're not sure, but we think it had something to do with AJ's birth."
"Why?"
Chuckling loudly, Bud recounted, in greater detail than Harm had ever heard, the story of the day AJ was born. He ended with the day Harm and Mac arrived at his and Harriet's apartment to announce they were getting married.
"So just like that, one day we were mere colleagues and the next we were in love and getting married?"
"Yeah, that's pretty much it. Now you know how we felt, but you and Mac seemed to think it made perfect sense. We'd never seen you happier."
Chapter 27Golden Gate Mall
Two weeks later 31 days and 3 weeks and 30 (changed from one week to two weeks at posting)"You're sure you want to try this?" Mac asked for the millionth time in the last hour.
"It's just a little ice." Harm finished tying Tommy's laces and waddled out to the rink, Mac and Trisha following close behind.
Harm took one step on the ice and his feet skidded awkwardly before sliding out from under him, landing him on his six and almost taking Tommy down with him.
Tommy and Trisha looked at each other in a near panic before looking up at their mom.
"I'll give Daddy a few pointers. You two go off for a little while, and stay together. Did you hear me Tommy?" she called after her son. "Hold onto your sister's hand."
Harm had managed to grab onto the side rails and hoist himself back on his feet. "I gather I didn't do this often in my previous life?" He flashed a hint of his old flyboy smile.
"No. You really didn't. Here, give me your hands and take it slowly." Mac had moved in front of him, holding her hands out for him to hang on to, and was carefully skating backwards.
"You seem to be doing well," Harm kept his eyes on Mac's feet.
"Trisha and I took lessons together. That got me started. The rest was just practice coming here with the kids."
"And I didn't take lessons?"
"You said if men were meant to walk on ice they'd have been born with webbed feet," Mac chuckled softly, amused at Harm's stiff efforts to skate.
"Well that makes no sense. I flew planes and didn't claim if men were meant to fly they'd have been born with wings." Harm was still mostly watching Mac's feet, slowly feeling a little steadier on his own.
Laughing heartily, Mac shook her head at him. "Yeah, well, that argument never got me very far."
"Well, I'm trying now. Surely that counts for something?"
"It does," she grinned sweetly.
"Okay, I think I'm getting the hang of this. Come around this way." Harm let go of one hand and tugged at Mac with the other to join him at his side.
"You sure?" She hesitated before moving over, secretly pleased he was at least still holding one hand.
"Yeah, come on before I land on my ass again."
"Hey look!" Trisha called as she and Tommy whizzed by. "Daddy's really skating."
"Don't look so surprised!" Harm shouted to his children's backs, waving his free arm at them.
"Hey watch it!" Mac warned. The extra motion had made Harm wobbly on his feet and his weight was pulling Mac with him.
"Oh, sorry." Harm tried to turn slightly to steady them and instead lost his balance even further.
Their feet wobbling and slipping, Mac wrapped an arm around Harm, trying desperately to catch her balance. By the time they'd got their footing, Harm's arms were locked around Mac, and his breath was blowing heavily against her cheek.
"You okay?" he asked softly against her skin. Even in the cool outdoors she still smelled delicious.
"Uh...yeah." Lifting her face to answer him, she found herself staring at his lips, barely an inch away from her.
"You...uh...sure?" This was the closest to holding her he'd ever come and he wasn't at all surprised to discover he didn't want to let go.
"Pretty sure." Mac couldn't stand it any more. It had seemed like forever since she'd felt his strong arms around her, and now his lips were so close to hers. She wasn't sure who moved first, but the feel of his warm lips on hers sent shivers racing down her spine. It was a soft, sweet, tender kiss that reminded her of the warmth and love she'd been so desperately missing. Without realizing it, she shifted her weight, unconsciously trying to get even closer to the man she missed so very much. Instead of feeling the strength of his body against hers, she felt his mouth slipping away. The next thing she knew they were flailing in a tangle of arms and legs before landing with a thud in a large mangled heap.
"Are you okay?" they chuckled simultaneously.
"It serves me right for trying to kiss on a first date," Harm laughed.
"Date? I got news for you buster," Mac laughed until she realized exactly what it was Harm had said. Her eyes suddenly widened with surprise.
"Would dinner be better?" He smiled at her startled expression.
"Do you need some help?" a strange voice offered.
Harm and Mac had been so engrossed in the moment that neither had noticed the traffic jam their prone bodies had created in the flow of skaters.
"Oh, thank you." Mac extended her arm while two other strangers helped Harm up.
As soon as they made it off the rink, Harm turned a little more steadily to face Mac. "You didn't answer my question. Would you please join me for dinner?"
"I... I think I'd like that."
Harm didn't have much chance to respond when both kids came up behind them.
"Is it time to go already?" Trisha asked.
"No. You can take a few more rounds. Dad and I are going to sit over there and watch."
"Okay!" With the speed and agility that only comes with youth, the two kids were back on the ice, skating up a storm.
Rabb Home
Friday night
Mac had pulled out four different outfits, tried on three of them, and she still couldn't find something she thought was right.
"Knock knock," Harriet announced from the doorway. "I'm here to pick up Trisha but thought I'd check on you first."
"Oh, thank God you're here. I'm never going to find something to wear. Harm dropped Tommy off at Sue's half an hour ago. He thinks as soon as you pick up Trisha we'll be ready to go."
"Let's see what you've got here?" Harriet walked over to the bed. "This one is very nice." She held up a brown pair of slacks with a matching turtleneck.
"I don't want nice, Harriet. I want 'Wow, what are you doing for the rest of your life?'
"While I understand the sentiment, I think a simple 'Wow, can we do this again' would be sufficient." Walking into Mac's closet, Harriet started sifting through the clothes. "Where are those really nice black... here they are. And that nice black sweater that's almost a turtleneck on one side but unbuttons on the other to show your shoulder?"
"It's over here." Mac walked over and opened an overstuffed drawer, rummaging through a variety of colors before pulling out the sweater Harriet had suggested.
"Perfect. That says not too dressy, not too casual, just enough 'hot'.
"You don't think the leather pants are a bit much?"
"Not with your figure," Harriet smiled.
"You sure?"
"Positive. Go get dressed, I'll get Trisha and get out of here." Kissing Mac quickly on the cheek, Harriet patted her arm reassuringly. "Just have fun."
"Thanks, Harriet." As fast as she could, Mac changed her clothes and freshened up her makeup. She ran a brush through her hair and tried to convince herself that tonight wasn't anything special.
Harm had been pacing the den like a caged lion. He'd spent the last few days reminding himself of what the Admiral had told him. This wasn't a competition, but he couldn't help feeling he had to live up to who he used to be. When he heard Mac's footsteps coming down the stairs, his stomach did one last flip-flop. "My God, you're beautiful."
Chapter 28
Harm pulled up in front of Angelo's Italian Restaurant. Getting out of the car, he said a quick prayer and walked around to get Mac's door. "Bud recommended this place. Have you ever been here before?"
"No, but I've heard good things about it."
Harm let his hand fall on the small of her back as they walked inside. He briefly considered pulling it away, but decided it was time he started treating her like a wife again, or at least a girlfriend.
By slipping the maitre d a little something extra, Harm was able to secure a quiet table in the back near the sizzling fireplace.
"This is just lovely," Mac smiled, taking her seat.
"You mentioned you liked Italian."
"I did?"
"When I first got out of the hospital. The neighbors were still making suppers, Harriet asked you if a lasagna was alright and you told her you loved anything Italian." Harm picked up his menu, pleased with the small smile that bloomed.
"Good evening. My name is Drew. I'll be your waiter this evening. May I interest you in a nice bottle of wine?"
Harm looked over at the wine list, wondering if there was any point. It was unlikely he'd recognize any of them. When he looked up and saw the almost frightened look on Mac's face, he couldn't imagine what had happened.
"I...don't drink," she stumbled.
Harm thought about it quickly. The few times they'd gone over to the Roberts', Bud and he had always had a beer and Harriet and Mac drank soda. Once he saw Harriet with a glass of wine, but Mac was still drinking soda.
"May I get you something else?" the young man asked, not skipping a beat.
"Soda with a twist, please."
"I'll have a..." Harm hesitated a moment.
"Why don't you try a bourbon?" Mac suggested.
"Okay, bourbon please, straight up." As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he looked over at Mac. A small smile was tugging at one side of her mouth. "I gather that was my drink of choice?"
Mac waited until the waiter had gone to get their beverages. "Sometimes. You like beer. Some wines."
"But you don't drink?"
"Not in twelve years."
Harm tilted his head. There was a story there somewhere.
"I'm an alcoholic." Mac looked him straight in the eye, much the way she had the first time she told Harm she used to drink.
"You were still drinking when we first met?" he responded incredulously. That made no sense. They'd met fifteen years ago and yet she'd only been sober for twelve. There was no way she would have been a reputable attorney at JAG HQ if she'd been a boozer.
"No. My Uncle Matt took me to dry out after my best friend was killed in a car accident. After that I joined the Marines. I fell off the wagon when Dalton Lowne was murdered. You made sure I got right back on again."
"That was when you were being stalked?"
"How'd you know about that?"
"Bud told me."
"Are you ready to order?" The young waiter interrupted, placing their drinks on the table.
"I'm afraid not. Just a minute." Looking down at his menu, Harm spoke to Mac, "Okay. Any idea what you'd like?"
"I'm going to start out with the mussels marinara, and then I'll have the shrimp scampi."
"Sounds good. I'll have the same." In actuality Harm wasn't sure if he'd like any of it. He handed the waiter his menu and raised his glass. "To the most beautiful woman on the eastern seaboard."
"Only the eastern seaboard?" Mac teased.
"Mom's in San Diego. You wouldn't want me to play favorites?" Harm grinned impishly.
"Good answer," she smiled back
Harm marveled at how her eyes twinkled when her smile was sincere. He hadn't seen that very often. He only now realized how much of a front she'd been putting on all this time.
"You know, between you, and Mom, and all the videos I've watched, I have a pretty good idea of who Harmon Rabb Jr. is, but I still know very little about Sarah MacKenzie."
Mac's smile turned bashful. Harm was right. She and his mom had practically force fed him every detail of his life, hoping something would be the key to unlocking his memories.
"Tell me, where were you born?" And with that, Harm began filing away many of the missing pieces that made up the woman he wanted to know better. He was well aware that she was an excellent lawyer and well-respected Marine, as well as a fabulous mother and from what little he'd seen, wife. Now he was ready to find out everything there was to know about Sarah Mackenzie Rabb.
Over dinner Mac told him about her family. She filled him in on the history with her mom, her dad, and the entire story of Uncle Matt and the Declaration of Independence. She told him about John Farrow and her ex-husband. As she spoke, she watched Harm's expressions change from bewilderment, to astonishment, to occasional humor when she mentioned some of her quirks, such as often reading two or three books at a time.
"I've been doing a lot of reading lately myself while you're at the office. So far I think my favorite is a toss up between Louis L'Amour and John Grisham."
"I'm glad someone is finally reading those Louis L'Amour books. Frank sent them to you as a birthday gift years ago. He said you needed more variety in your life."
"He must have known something. I think they're pretty entertaining."
Over dessert they debated books and authors, and enjoyed the piano player over coffee.
Their coffee cold from all the conversation, Harm reached over and laid his hand gently over hers, his thumb swirling gentle caresses. "Would you care to dance?"
"That would be lovely."
Still holding the hand he'd been caressing, Harm led Mac to the tiny dance floor at the foot of the baby grand piano. Pulling her casually against him, yet remaining careful not to hold her too closely, they began to gently sway to the soft music.
"Did we go dancing often?" Harm asked.
"Not as often as we might have liked." Mac shifted in a little closer.
"We'll have to change that," he smiled.
"Works for me," Mac agreed. For years, dancing at political functions had been the only way she'd gotten to bask in the feel of Harm's embrace. She wouldn't object to doing it again. It was better than not having him hold her at all.
Humming softly, while swirling around the floor, Mac recognized the song 'It Had To Be You' and unconsciously snuggled into Harm's shoulder. Closing her eyes, she wandered back to another place and time.
October 9, 1999
Officers Club
Annapolis
"It had to be you," Harm softly sang into Mac's ear. "I wandered around and finally found somebody who..."
Dancing as closely as any two people dared in a public place, Mac could barely make her feet keep moving. The feel of Harm's breath on her face, the sound of his voice in her ear, and the feel of his arms holding her tight were making her want to forget the reception and get started on the honeymoon.
"Have I mentioned how very much I love you, Mrs. Rabb?" Harm spun her around smoothly before planting the tiniest of kisses at the edge of her jaw.
"I like the sound of that: Mrs. Rabb," she sighed softly at the thought. "I don't think I'll ever get tired of hearing it."
"Mrs. Rabb, Mrs. Rabb, Mrs. Rabb," Harm whispered over and over in her ear. He couldn't believe this day had finally arrived. He'd thought for sure he was going to wake up on the Patrick Henry and discover the baby deal and proposal had never happened, but it had. Every morning he woke up in DC one day closer to the wedding, and now he was finally dancing with his wife.
"Do you think anyone would notice if we left early?" Mac asked breathlessly.
"I'm game if you are. We've already cut the cake, and the merry maidens have battled for the holy bouquet. What do you say we dance towards the veranda doors and don't stop until we reach the car?"
"Sounds like a plan," Mac smiled.
Gliding casually across the floor, Harm continued singing in her ear. "It had to be you, wonderful you, it had to be you..."
Chapter 29Angelo's Restaurant
Year 2010
Harm could tell something had changed the moment he felt Mac's head come to rest at the crook of his neck. This wasn't the carefully distant woman who had never dared to invade his space. Right away he recognized what must have happened. She was no longer dancing with her date, she was dancing with her husband. Unknowingly, she was allowing him a first hand glimpse into what they must have had. An overwhelming feeling of warmth and belonging washed over him. A sense of oneness and total comfort filled him so completely that for the first time since waking up in that hospital, he felt whole.
When the music stopped, Mac hadn't quite realized where she was. Opening her eyes, it was a full thirty seconds before the truth of her reality hit her with the force of a speeding bullet.
"I'm so sorry," she said hurriedly, stepping back just as quickly.
"Don't be. That was nice." Harm suddenly wanted to be her Harmon Rabb more than he wanted anything.
"Still, I shouldn't have..."
"Where were you?" His voice was soft and caring, but he wasn't going to pretend he hadn't realized what had happened. "Was it the song?" They'd been dancing for almost the whole set before she'd relaxed against him. The only thing it could have been was that last song. It obviously reminded her of something.
Nodding her head slowly, Mac smiled one of those sweet smiles that didn't reach her eyes. The ones Harm had been used to seeing more often than not. "We danced to that song at our wedding."
"I see." He had no idea what else to say. He could tell she was feeling badly. What he didn't know was if she was upset at having briefly forgotten herself, or if it was at finding herself back with him. "Maybe we should go back to the table?"
Despite the momentary awkwardness, they found themselves lost in conversation and coffee in no time at all. When the music started up twenty minutes later, Harm didn't hesitate to ask Mac to dance again. Although she remained in the here and now, keeping a polite distance for a date, something had changed. Neither could deny that.
"I can't remember the last time we stayed out late enough to close the joint," Mac chuckled, walking up the front steps.
"Well, that's a first."
Mac looked at him curiously, her brow curled in confusion.
"You not remembering." He smiled brightly, waiting for Mac to unlock the door.
"It happens," she shot back. "But don't get used to it." Laughing, she dropped her purse and keys on the table by the door and yawned loudly. "I hate to admit it, but I think I'm getting too old for this," she yawned again.
"I don't buy that for a minute, but..." Letting out a yawn as well, Harm chuckled before continuing. "I do hear my bed calling to me."
"Yeah, and thank you. I had a really nice time," Mac half smiled, half shrugged.
"So did I."
The two shuffled around each other clumsily trying to move towards the stairs, until Mac started to giggle.
Stepping aside, Harm waved his arm at the stairs. "Ladies first," he smiled.
Sharing a bedroom put an awkward spin on 'should you' or 'shouldn't you' kiss goodnight on a first date.
Harm knew better than to try. He wasn't sure it would be a good idea. His memory might not be working so well after being hit on the head, but the rest of him was working just fine. The temptation was too strong. He worried if he tried to kiss her that his desires could easily get the better of him, but what worried him more was, after that one dance, he knew it might be too easy for her to let herself pretend he was the old Harm. She deserved much better than that.
Monday morning
Rabb kitchen
Their lives had developed a routine normalcy. Mac was in charge of breakfast while Harm made the kids lunch. He'd begun sandwich duty a couple of weeks ago, and starting today, with Mac going back to work full time, Harm would be the one to take and pick up the kids from school. Until now they'd done it together. Mac would head into the office after dropping the kids off and be back home in time to go with Harm to pick them up. Now it would be Harm's responsibility, and he was actually looking forward to it. The days were starting to get very long. He'd read most of the books that held any interest for him and had started spending more time in his office going through some of the law books. So far very little had seemed even vaguely familiar.
"Hey, Dad?" Tommy asked without looking up from his plate.
"Yeah?" Harm answered from his post at the counter.
"Have you remembered how to make pancakes yet?"
"Have I what?" Harm glanced over at Mac and noticed the slight roll of her shoulders as she held in a laugh.
"You know, pancakes. Mom just doesn't do them the same." Tommy was holding up a splattered looking wafer. "I miss your dinosaurs."
Harm looked back at Mac again who was conveniently ignoring him.
"I'll see what I can do about it." Much to Harm's surprise, that answer seemed to be enough for his son.
When the kids had finished eating and run back upstairs to get their things, Harm turned to Mac. "Dinosaur pancakes?"
"It was your specialty," she shrugged.
"And exactly how did I do this?"
"It was a gift." Mac smiled, trying not to laugh.
Heaving a sigh of resignation, Harm decided he wasn't going to get very far pursuing the issue this morning, but it was obvious to him he was going to have to start practicing his cooking skills. Besides, with Mac not being around much, it only made sense.
"I'm going to just throw some spaghetti together tonight. Would you mind running to the store for me and picking up a jar of sauce and some mushrooms? I don't think I'll have time on my way home." Mac asked, fishing out some left over pot roast from the fridge.
"Sure." Harm had been with her to the market enough times to find his way, and it had only taken him a few turns around the parking lot to get the hang of driving.
"Good, okay. I'm out of here. Have a nice day." Mac gave him a short wave, hoping maybe some day soon that would change. She had thought after their date they might have overcome some of the invisible barriers between them, but they seemed to have fallen back into the familiar comfort of respectable distance. Standing at the bottom of the stairs she called up, "Kids, I'm leaving."
"Bye, Mom. Love you!" Trisha called from upstairs, shoving the last of her homework into her backpack.
"Me too!" Tommy came running down the stairs to give his mom a hug and a kiss. Mac thanked God he hadn't reached the age yet where he thought he was too big to be hugged.
A few minutes later both kids were downstairs and ready to go.
"Wait for me one minute. I've got to stop at the store for Mom, so we're going to take the car to school this morning." Harm handed them each a lunch and hurried up the stairs.
Pulling open his bedside drawer, Harm grabbed his wallet. A small ziploc bag accidentally fell to the floor. Bending down, he picked up the plastic baggie. It had been given to Mac at the hospital. Too distraught to deal with it at the time, she had simply tossed it in his night table. It contained everything he'd had on him the day of the crash: his wallet, his Annapolis ring, and his wedding band.
Harm had retrieved the wallet ages ago, but had chosen to ignore the remaining trinkets. Holding the bag tightly in his fingers he almost laughed at the irony of the contents. From everything he'd learned, his entire life could have been summed up by the last two items: the Navy and his wife.
Chapter 30
Rabb house
Later that afternoonHarm had been staring at the books on his desk for hours and his head was spinning. Noticing the time, he jumped up and rushed to the kitchen. He had promised Mac he would start the water boiling for her, and he had promised himself he would start helping out more. It was obvious from some of the photos and stories that he had at least had some skill in the kitchen, and it was high time he relearned it.
By the time Mac came through the front door, Harm had sliced, diced and browned everything Harriet had suggested and had the sauce simmering on slow boil.
"What's this?" Mac asked, slowly approaching the pots on the stove.
"I hope it looks like dinner." Harm dropped a handful of pasta into the larger pot.
"Wow, what a nice surprise." She lifted the lid and sniffed the sauce. "This smells really good."
"Harriet helped," Harm smiled and dropped another handful of pasta in the pot. "She gave me her secret recipe."
"Oh, she did, did she?" Mac had taken a spoon from the drawer and was sampling the 'special recipe'. "Oh, you done good, sailor."
Dipping the utensil for a second taste, Mac didn't see the look on Harm's face at the rarely used nickname. It was a simple word, but it struck Harm that for a few seconds they'd fallen into the same pre-accident comfort zone they had at dinner the other night.
Harm decided to take advantage of the moment and do what came naturally. Placing the lid back on the pot, he leaned over and kissed Mac on the cheek. "Thanks!" Walking away he called to the kids in the other room. "Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Time to wash up."
Mac stood stunned, still holding the spoon in mid air. He'd kissed her. Granted, it was only a peck on the cheek, but it was their first peck on the cheek since the one and only time she'd dared to kiss him goodbye back in the hospital. Of course, there was that one kiss at the rink, but this was somehow different.
"Mac..." Harm started, having turned back into the kitchen. "I think it's only fair I try and help more with dinner, at least for now."
"Works for me. You always liked cooking better than I did, anyhow," Mac shrugged nonchalantly, her casual demeanor back in place.
"I did?" Somehow it surprised him that a flying lawyer would like cooking.
"I'm not saying you're an Emeril or anything, but yeah."
Harm debated whether or not to ask what an Emeril was and decided he might as well quit while he was ahead.
Following Saturday
"Finally." Mac collapsed on the sofa, plopping her feet on the coffee table. "If it wasn't enough that this was the week from hell, our dining room has to become Niagara Falls the one day we've got a house full of six year old boys."
"At least it didn't upset the party. The boys thought it was great," Harm cajoled.
"Next season they can have the soccer party at someone else's house," Mac chuckled. "I suppose it could have been worse. If the bathroom didn't have a separate turn off valve we'd be without any water and paying a plumber double overtime." Mac let her head drop back against the sofa
"Well, we're not. The water is turned off, the dining room is mostly dry, and on Monday the plumber will let us know what caused the cascade."
"What time did Harriet say she was dropping Trisha off?"
"Oh, in all the commotion I forgot to tell you she called and said the girls were going to rent some movies and have a slumber party of sorts. I told her that would be fine."
"I guess I'd better go and see what Tommy is up to."
"Don't bother," Harm laid back. "He's out like a light, fell asleep as soon as that little Peterson kid left."
"Not a bad idea, too bad if I go to bed at this hour I'll be up at three o'clock in the morning." Sitting up a little, Mac turned to Harm. "Want to watch a movie?"
"That sounds nice. What would you like to see?"
Mac looked at Harm oddly. She'd forgotten that she and the new Harm hadn't ever watched a real movie together. At first they'd spent a lot of time watching family videos, and occasionally they'd watch something Disneyish with the kids, but they'd never had a movie night for just the two of them.
"After the day we've had, I think a comedy is in order. You find My Cousin Vinny, and I'll go make us some popcorn."
"Okay," Harm smiled a little more enthusiastically. This actually sounded like it might be fun.
Nibbling mindlessly at the huge bowl of popcorn Mac had placed between them, Harm laughed almost non-stop through the entire movie. Halfway through, he'd put the bowl on his lap and pulled Mac snugly against him, draping his arm across her shoulder.
Mac caught him peeking at her through the corner of his eye like a nervous teenager trying to cop a feel on a first date. Smiling broadly, she burrowed closer still, letting him know she was more than happy with the gesture.
"This was a fabulous idea." Harm smiled when the movie was over, despite the cool chill brushing against his side where Mac had been comfortably cocooned.
"Agreed. In spite of the blatant errors, no matter how many times I watch it, I always laugh." Mac walked over to the TV, retrieving the DVD from the player.
"Blatant errors?" Harm finished off the last of the popcorn in the bowl.
"Yeah. For one thing, no lawyer with that amount of inexperience would dare take a capital murder case."
"No?"
"Of course not. Just about every state in the country has a statute requiring a lawyer provide competent representation to a client, and that requires the legal knowledge, skill, thoroughness, and preparation reasonably necessary for the representation."
Harm looked at the blank screen as Mac placed the DVD back on the shelf, her words slowly sinking in.
"And then..." Mac continued. "Anyone who spends six years trying to pass the bar isn't going to risk it all by knowingly making a false statement of law or material fact to the tribunal. Getting caught lying about his name and credentials to the judge should have put him on the fast track to being disbarred. No real lawyer would be that stupid."
"No, I guess not," Harm mumbled.
"I mean, the movie is still fun to watch. You just have to ignore the mistakes. A first year law student knows the 'eleventh commandment': never ask a question in court you don't know the answer to. Vinny had no way of knowing if Marissa Tomei would corroborate his theory or not." Mac had sat back down next to Harm. "Do you want me to make some more popcorn and watch another movie or have you had enough?"
Processing everything Mac was saying, Harm hadn't heard her last question.
"Harm?"
"Hmm?"
"Did you want to go to bed or watch another movie?"
"Oh, no. I'm up for another one if you are. Pick something out and this time I'll make the popcorn."
Picking up the empty bowl, Harm repeated in his mind almost everything Mac had said. She'd given him plenty of food for thought.