Winter of Hammond's Heart

Chapter 8

Kathryn's boys were really something special, Hammond thought with a grin as he drove home from her house. She invited him over for a cookout to meet her sons. They were great kids and his heart immediately took to them. Mark, Nicholas, and Tommy followed Chris, the oldest at fifteen.

Unsure how they would react to his seeing their mother, he'd tried to keep the evening light, listening to whatever the boys wanted to tell him, admiring the dog, the guppies, pet mice, and lizard. He tried his hand at Mario and Luigi and told a couple of stories about his own adventures as a kid with a stray mutt who took up residence under the back porch.

All in all, he thought the evening more stressful than being hauled up in front of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. The JCS could only fire him; her boys could shoot down any future he might have with their mom. He hoped he passed muster.

Chris had watched while Mark and Nick talked nonstop, but the boy understood more of what an adult's relationship entailed. Of them all, Chris would remember his father best. For the boy's sake, Hammond hoped the memories were good. The youngest, five-year old Tommy barely said a word but stood staring, wide-eyed with fingers in his mouth. Having another man in the house, even if visiting, had to be unsettling for the boys.

It had been almost three months since that night at the Hilltop Restaurant when she'd confided her husband's mischief and asked him to go slow in their relationship. And he had. He knew she was still wary of getting involved with someone again and he didn't blame her. How a man could do such a thing as her husband had, was beyond him. He didn't want to spook her, now that they were getting closer.

At times, Hammond had to hold himself back, wanting to hurry things along. To make it worse, finding time to get together was not easy. They saw each other irregularly, when work and responsibilities allowed. Usually, they had dinner, lingering over coffee, getting to know one another better, discussing anything and everything. On a couple of occasions, when the weather was fine, they grabbed a bag of fast food and found a park bench. Always, though, the evening ended far too soon for his liking and the times they saw each other were far too infrequent.

Until last week, she had not mentioned his meeting her sons. He understood. Meeting the kids was a big step; Kathryn was protective of her boys, and rightly so. She would not want her sons hurt or confused should things not work out between them. It said a great deal that she allowed him to meet them tonight. He was very glad and took it as a sign that she expected their relationship to strengthen and deepen.

To be honest, Hammond had to admit that his thoughts about Kathryn were serious ones. In all the years since Maggie had died, he'd never once given thought to marrying again. Now, it seemed that was all he could think of.

The question on his mind was would she even consider marrying him?


"All right, boys and girls, clean up- put your crayons in your boxes -yes, the broken ones, too- and let's get ready for show and tell."

The kindergarteners hurried to stash the crayons. Show and tell ranked up there with snack time. Too bad it was only once a week. Hustling about noisily, they put everything away quickly then dug treasures for sharing out of their little, brightly colored backpacks.

Taking their seats on the rug, they waited for Mrs. Taylor to sit in her chair. You never knew what you might see for show and tell.

"Now, who has something for us, today?" Seven hands shot up. Assigning a table per week was going to work better than opening it to the whole class, she thought; seventeen hands had gone up the first time. "Well, let's start with the birthday girl. Melissa, what did you bring?"

A tiny, delicate Asian girl sat up on her knees. "I got a stamp from England. It has a picture of Queen He Lives a Bit on it."

The crowd nodded appreciatively. A real queen- that was impressive. Mrs. Taylor covered a laugh. "That's very nice, Melissa. I believe the Queen's name is Elizabeth."

"It came on a birthday card from my uncle."

"How wonderful. You can start a stamp collection. Now, who's next?"

Several children later, they were treated to the sight of a wart on a grubby finger.

"A frog made it," the owner of the afflicted finger informed them, looking rather pleased. A murmur ran through the group. "He peed on me."

The girls made the appropriate squealing sounds of disgust and the boys snickered.

"My goodness!" Did frogs really cause warts? She didn't think so, but her Dad told her and her sister they did. Then again, sometimes it was hard to tell when her dad was teasing or telling the truth. Her dad also said he used to be a handsome prince until her mother kissed him. "Guess we'd better be careful with frogs." Kissed ones, or otherwise.

They went around the circle, each child bringing forth a treasure. One girl, who hadn't brought anything that day, conveniently had a tooth fall out during recess so was able to show not only the tooth, but also the gap where it had been. The only child left was a boy, smaller than the others, who was still quiet and shy among his classmates.

"Did you bring something to show us?" Mrs. Taylor asked gently. His head bobbed up and down, his brown eyes opened wide.

"I got a star from a real general," he said softly, his voice filled with pride. He stuck out his fist and opened it. In his marker-stained palm lay a silver star with its clip. The boys and girls leaned in closer.

"How'd you get it?" asked the girl who lost the tooth. A general's star was good, but she'd get cash for her tooth.

"My momma's boyfriend came over to our house for hamburgers last night and he gave one to me and my brudders, but he's got lots of stars 'cause he's got two stars here-" he pointed to one shoulder, then the other, "-and two stars here."

"Wow! That's a four star general," the boy with the frog-induced wart exclaimed. The kids crowded in for a better view.

The boy nodded. It was the truth; he'd counted them.

"Well, actually the rank goes by how many are on just one shoulder" Sandra Hammond Taylor explained. There weren't many major generals around the Colorado Springs area and she had met all of them- and their wives. Jacob Carter was unmarried, but he'd retired and her dad was not clear on just where General Carter had retired to. The only unmarried two star in town was her father.

"That's very interesting, Tommy," she said, her mind in high gear wondering how to carry out the necessary interrogation tactfully. A gleam came to her blue eyes. "What did you and your brothers call him? General…"

"Sir."

"Sir?"

"Momma said we'd better call him sir, so we did," Tommy Freeman explained gravely.

The general had scared him at first. The man was tall and big and didn't have any hair. But, his uniform was really different from anything he'd ever seen before. Colorful medals ribbons and things pinned to it covered the front. One had wings; another had a rocket. He was disappointed the general didn't have a gun, though.

His brothers had crowded around, but he hung back, unsure. When his mom had gently pulled him forward, the general knelt down, smiled, and quietly said hello in a deep voice. He couldn't say anything at all and had simply stared at the ribbons, medals, and stars.

The stars were so sparkly on the man's shoulder, he couldn't help but pull his fingers out of his mouth and reach over and touch one. Momma had fussed a little, embarrassed, but the general just smiled again and asked if he'd like to have one, then took them off his uniform. He got first pick, ahead of his brothers.

For the rest of the night, he stayed right next to the general, silently watching the man's every move and listening to every word. The general had said he would come back again. Tommy hoped so.

"Oh!" Sandy said, disappointed. So much for her cleverness. She quickly racked her brain for another scheme.

"Momma calls him George."

"Oh! I see!"

Well, now, this was certainly going to be a very interesting year! She and her father were overdue for a night out, but first she had to talk to her sister.


Hammond was not surprised when his oldest daughter called to say she and her sister were taking him out for dinner that week, no excuses on his part accepted. They tended to fuss over him when they got the chance and to be honest, it made him feel good that they did. Living alone, he found himself isolated from others at times. He was fortunate to have his daughters in the same town.

Between his daughters and grandgirls calling him, he spoke with one of his family at least twice a week. In times of crisis as the mountain, he might go for days without speaking to them, but there was an understanding his daughters insisted on. If a week went by and they'd not heard from him, they would be on the phone to his aide wanting to know if he was still alive.

He had a sneaking suspicion that Dr. Fraser would be on the horn to them again, too, should the need arise. When his blood pressure went sky high last year, he suddenly found Sandy and Sara cleaning his cabinets and freezer of all the food the good doctor had pronounced bad for him. They scolded and pleaded, threatened and reasoned. Even now, they seemed to know when his cholesterol was up or when he'd been running on nothing but caffeine and pure determination.

He really should tell his daughters about Kathryn. They had to suspect something was up. During the past two months, he'd turned down several offers to come over for dinner when they knew he was free, and he'd not given them any explanation that was worth a plug nickel. He'd thought about it, but decided he'd rather not jump the gun. If they knew, at every available chance there would be poking and prodding to get the lowdown from him. His girls were persistent.

How would they feel about his seeing someone? They were grown women who surely understood that life went on despite losses and would not object. He felt sure they would be pleased for him. Still, it was best not to spring it on them too late in the game.

He'd tell them tonight.

He pulled into the cramped parking lot and found a place near Sandy's van, near the back of the lot under a flickering sodium streetlamp. He had to squeeze the Tahoe up next to the dumpster and hoped it wasn't the night for it to be emptied.

They'd chosen his favorite Mexican restaurant, which most people would call a dive. It might not look like much, but there wasn't a better place for enchiladas until you hit Texas. He hoped the girls wouldn't give him the evil eye when ordering.

The place was packed, but he spotted them sitting in a booth in the corner and he nodded to Paulo at the front counter before going to join them. Both girls favored their mother, but had his blue eyes. Neither, however, had his hair; Sandy was blonde, Sara brunette.

"Hello, girls," George said, leaning down to kiss each one in turn. "Where are Tessa and Kayla?"

"Oh, we want you all to ourselves tonight, Dad," Sandy said. Her eyes seemed to sparkle; he'd seen them do that when she was younger and about to get into mischief.

"Just the three of us," Sara added. "Don't get to see you enough these days."

"I know, but it can't be helped." George sat in the chair opposite the girls then shrugged as he opened his plastic covered menu and wondered just what he could get away with when he ordered. "Been pretty busy, as always."

"I'll bet," Sara said.

"Huh?"

"Busy time of the year," she said airily. "Lots going on, day and night."

"Uh, yeah," George agreed. "Budget needs to be adjusted, meetings, not to mention, uh…"

"Football," Sandra said helpfully.

"That too! Looks like the Cowboys have a good team this year."

The girls looked at him and smiled.

"Dad, why don't you get that cheese enchilada and beef burrito plate with a side of chili rellanos you like so much?" Sara suggested.

"We've already ordered nachos and cheese dip," Sandy added.

"With extra jalapeños," Sara assured him.

George didn't answer at first, but eyed them, curious. He thought they'd insist he have nothing but a salad without the crackers.

"Come on, Dad. After working so hard without a break for weeks, you need a night to just relax," Sandy said considerately.

A bit too considerately, he thought. But only a fool looked a gift horse in the mouth…and George Hammond was no fool. "OK."

One of the staff brought their nachos and said their waiter would be back in a moment. He could smell the jalapeños. He eyed them with great anticipation.

"Other than taking the girls out for ice cream twice, you haven't been over at all this past month," Sandy said, pushing the platter of chips that were drowning in melted cheese and crowned with a pile of sliced hot peppers toward him.

"You're way too busy- we hardly get to see you when you're home and not rushing off somewhere," Sara added.

"Well, like you said, it's a busy time." George relaxed. They were just annoyed because he hadn't been around. He went after a few chips, testing the waters, but neither daughter said a word, so he scooped up some extra cheese.

They ordered then chatted while waiting. Keeping them talking, he dug into the nachos. He spent lunchtime trying to strong-arm the CIA into spilling information about activity in western Russia where the gate was located, but the CIA was slow in buying his excuse about suspected weapons testing. The two-sided arguments and veiled threats went on right through lunch; George was hungry.

The girls filled him in on what was going on. Sara was taking a class for her Masters and dating a teacher from the local high school; Sandy was settling in for the new school year and getting started on organizing the church Christmas pageant. Tessa and Kayla were taking ballet again.

Their food came and George dove in. It had been a while since he'd enjoyed The Enchilada Grande Especial… that is, with a clear conscience and blessings of his daughters. The first bite was heavenly. So was the second. He knew the third was going to be, too.

"How's the new school year looking, so far?" Sara asked, watching her father do some serious damage to the mound of food before him…not to mention his heart and blood vessels.

"Oh, very interesting" Sandy answered. "Several new families at the school."

"Really? Military?"

"Only a couple." Sandy watched her dad cut a cheese-stuffed chili in half then chew it appreciatively. She thought she heard him sigh. She raised an eyebrow and looked to her sister.

Sara gave her the high sign.

George didn't think the food at Pedro's Cantina ever tasted as good as it did just then. Normally, he didn't go for sweets very much, but fried ice cream sounded like a good way to end the meal. Maybe the girls would let it slip past without comment if he ordered some. If they kept talking, maybe they wouldn't notice.

"Teaching five year-old kindergarten is very interesting."

"Oh? How? Tell me, dear sister."

"Learn something new every day, particularly during show and tell time."

"Such as…"

"Cats lose their whiskers…frogs cause warts."

"Told you so," George said, coming up for air after a long pull on his glass of ice water. He quickly got back to business with the burrito.

"Any special kids in your class?"

"Yes, one girl's family is here from Uruguay for a year, and her mother's teaching at the university as a guest lecturer. Another boy's family just moved from the D.C. area this summer."

"Uruguay…that's interesting. And the boy… is his father military?"

"No, his father died a few years ago."

George's hand stilled, a chunk of burrito balanced precariously on his fork. A coincidence? Could be someone else, he decided. Lot's of people move into the Colorado Springs and Denver area- it had to be a coincidence. The burrito disappeared.

"Oh. His mother is at the university, too," Sara asked, a sly grin spreading across her face as he father inhaled the rest of the chili rellanos.

"No…something academic, I think." Sandy waited a few moments before adding, "A librarian of some sort."

George's head came up. The girls were eating, not even looking at him. He frowned.

"Mmmm. This is a good taco salad!" Sara said, pointing at the filled fried shell with her fork. "How's yours?"

"Excellent. I wish I could make guacamole like this- they must use more lemon juice than I do," Sandy answered.

"Could be. Dad hasn't said much- his food must be good." The girls laughed and went back to eating.

George waited, but they said nothing more. Just happenstance? Sandy and Sara were discussing the amount of heat to put in taco meat. Slowly, he returned to his meal. It had to be.

After exhausting the topic of red pepper, the girls' conversation turned back to Sandy's class. Nearly done with his meal, George thought there just might be room left for that ice cream. He wiped his mouth and looked around hoping to catch the waiter's eye. If he could sneak in an order while the girls were occupied, they might not notice until it was too late.

"So, has anyone brought a frog or snake to class yet?" Sara asked.

"No, but one little boy brought in a star."

"A movie star?"

George threw down his napkin.

"No, not a movie star. That wouldn't fit in a boy's pocket," Sandy answered. "You'll never guess, dear sister."

George sat back in the chair, staring in disbelief at his beloved children for whom he'd sweated, sacrificed, and worked so hard to give every advantage in life. Those same angels had just played him like a fiddle…and a fine tune it was.

"Hmm. Fits in a pocket… Why, the only star like that would be the one our dear Daddy wears on his shoulders," Sara replied sweetly, eyes wide in innocence. In unison, both girls turned to look at him.

"All right," he said, crossing his arms across his chest. "You've had your fun."

"Why, whatever do you mean, Dad?"

"What! That was you?" Sandy asked with mock surprise.

"My own flesh and blood … I can't believe you set me up! Let me get the Enchilada Grande Especial and dream of fried ice cream, at that!"

The girls fell against each other, laughing.

George tilted his head to the side, watching. He pinned Sandy with a look "You are going to explain how you know about this." It was an order.

His firstborn raised an eyebrow. "Dad, I think it's you who has the explaining to do."

George considered. The girls were definitely not upset.

"Over fried ice cream?" he asked, hopefully. The girls' eyes narrowed. So much for that. He sighed. At least he'd gotten the extra nachos and chili rellenos. "All right. Well, you see, it happened like this…."


"Dr. Freeman?"

Kathryn shut her car door and turned. "Yes?"

The man gave her an easy smile. "Good morning, Doctor. May I speak with you for a moment?"

"I don't believe we've met." She wasn't scared- they were in the parking lot of the Peterson Air Force Base Personnel Center, in full view of everyone passing in and out. There were tax and insurance forms she needed to sign, so had taken the morning off. She looked more closely at the man.

His smile widened. He had a boyish look to him- not handsome, in particular, but pleasant. Kathryn was certain she'd never met him.

"No, we haven't." he agreed. He held out his hand. "I'm Colonel Harry Maybourne."

She shook his hand, relaxing a bit. He must be an acquaintance of George's. She smiled. "It's nice to meet you."

"The pleasure is mine, Ma'am. I have worked with General George Hammond on several occasions," he said, leaning an arm against the roof of her car. "The Gate is a fascinating structure, is it not?"

"Do you work at the mountain?" she replied, ignoring the question about the gate. She talked about the Gate with no one, except George.

"No, not exactly, although I've… participated in missions with Colonel O'Neil and SG-1 on several occasions." His smile faded. "Dr. Freeman, there are… friends of General Hammond, who are concerned."

She frowned. Without thinking, she asked"Concerned? What about?"

Maybourne looked away. "I'm afraid that it is a rather delicate matter. It involves…you."

Kathryn stared, speechless.

"Please understand that this is difficult for me and I hesitate to say anything. It pains me to even bring it up, but we thought it best," he continued gravely. "It goes without saying that this should not be repeated. General Hammond would find it very upsetting…and serious consequences could follow."

"I don't understand…"

Maybourne gave her a sad smile. "There are those who know of your and the general's… involvement. They are concerned that there might be trouble for him."

She shook her head. "Trouble? How could I cause-"

"I'm sure you have no intention of any such thing," he quickly reassured her, lifting his hand in emphasis. "It is not you, per se, but the relationship…and objective of other people." He shook his head, sympathetically. "His position…you working at the mountain…I'm afraid it is against certain regulations."

"I'm a civilian."

"I know, and let me say that I personally think it is wonderful that the two of you are friends." Maybourne smiled and laid his hand on his heart. "I think very highly of General Hammond."

"I'm afraid I still don't understand."

The colonel looked around before speaking. He lowered his voice.

"There are those who would like to see General Hammond lose his position," he explained, shaking his head. "The general has a tough job and with it comes tough decisions. Sometimes, the people involved do not like those decisions. It seems that there are men of influence in Washington and elsewhere who would very much like to see General Hammond lose his position….as well as his rank." Maybourne sighed. "It would be a devastating loss for the Stargate Program...and Earth."

Kathryn looked away. "Oh, my."

Maybourne dropped his arm to his side and took a deep breath.

"As I said, Doctor, I do hope things work out for you and the general. Probably will- he's been up against a wall before." Maybourne tilted his head to the side, considering, and continued slowly. "General Hammond would fight, of course, but would most likely accept retirement, again, if it came down to it."

"Retirement?"

"Yes. A shame really- there's rumors he's being considered for a third star." He gave her an appreciative smile. "The general has a lot to lose…but then with you, he has so much more to gain."

Maybourne stepped back. "Good day, Doctor." He smiled then turned and walked away, whistling softly to himself.


"Janet" Kathryn began, pushing aside her untouched salad. "What are the rules about staff…dating each other?"

Caught by surprise, Janet Fraser did not answer directly. Since that night in the restaurant parking lot, she had not seen any overt signs that the general and Kathryn were seeing each other- not that she and Sam hadn't watched for them, though. Hammond went about his long workday at his usual break-neck pace; Kathryn spent her day in the science area, cataloging symbols and entering data into the computer. Like today, she often ran into Kathryn during lunch and would share a table.

Janet made the effort to get to know her, not because of knowing about Kathryn seeing General Hammond, but because she genuinely liked Kathryn and also because she felt Kathryn might need a friend at the mountain. As far as Janet knew, she and Sam were the librarian's only friends there.

"You mean military and military, or military and staff?" she asked.

"Well, I suppose….military and staff." Kathryn looked uncomfortable and Janet wondered if there was some trouble. She hoped not.

"Got your eye on someone?" Janet asked lightly. Kathryn blushed and Janet quickly continued. "Just kidding. It is frowned upon, but it would depend on who worked where, if one was the other's boss…that sort of thing."

Kathryn looked away, frowning. "What…could happen?"

She wasn't sure how to answer. On one hand, she did not want to scare Kathryn, but neither did Janet want to lie. "The situation could possibly be simply ignored. If not, depending on the rank and circumstances, a member would receive a reprimand, or at the extreme, face courts martial."

"I see," Kathryn said heavily.

"Look, if someone asks you out, they probably know it's OK and you have no need to worry."

Kathryn nodded. "Yes, I'm sure you're right."

She didn't sound very sure.

"Kathryn, if you ever need someone to talk to… please know that I am here and anything you tell me is confidential," Janet said, offering her a smile.

For a long moment, Kathryn was silent. "Thank you. I'll remember. I should get back to work."

She stood, picking up her tray, then left.

Dr. Fraser drank the last of her diet soda. Now what was that all about?


"I'm really sorry, darlin'." Being tied to a cactus was preferable to breaking yet another date with Kathryn. How the woman tolerated it, he did not know. Given only an hour's notice, most women would have been seething. Instead, she had said little. "I'll be gone for two days."

There was silence from the other end of the phone line.

"If there was some way..."

"It's not your fault. I understand, George."

"Well I don't! There's no reason this can't be handled from here." George ran a hand across the top of his bald head and leaned back in his chair. "But, the Vice President and I….well, we don't see eye to eye, so he tries to make things difficult, at times."

He heard Kathryn draw a quick breath.

"The Vice President?"

George debated whether to tell her about what had happened when Kinsey was a senator. The line was a secure one and he trusted her. "He once forced me to turn in my retirement papers, short notice."

"Oh, no!" She suddenly sounded distraught. "How?"

"Well, he managed to briefly get the upper hand."

"But to force you to retire..."

"It didn't last long."

"George, what did he do?"

He didn't answer. He didn't want to say.

"George, did he threaten your family- your granddaughters?"

"Nothing happened to them- they were fine," George quickly explained. He heard a trace of panic in her voice. "Kinsey was forced to back down, and we got him good, but he doesn't take losing lightly. Neither do I."

His aide tapped discreetly on his door. His driver was waiting. George shut his eyes, frustrated. There was never enough time.

"Darlin', now listen. Don't you worry about a thing. I don't want you giving any more thought to it." His aide knocked again. "I hate to do it, but I gotta go."

"George, are you sure…?" Her voice faded and she said nothing more.

"Everything will be fine," he said firmly. "Again, I'm real sorry, darlin'. I'll give you a call when I can, I promise."

"Yes…all right."

He said his goodbyes and hung up, puzzled. Kathryn sounded…different. There was a louder knock as the door swung open. Hammond picked up his briefcase, then hat and jacket. He was running late- he'd have to worry about that later.


Many thanks to Helena and Selmak for their help. I appreciate Lady Arkin's comments, also!