The Pageant – part one: I could use some help

I could use some help

Washington, Café
Last week of October
Saturday afternoon 4 o'clock
"I'm just … bored isn't the right word, but … not satisfied anymore," Mac complained.
"What do you mean?" her friend asked, folding her hands around her teacup and leaning in.
"Like my work isn't enough, anymore. Like there is something lacking."
"And your boyfriend?"
"Mic?" Mac blew out a breath. "I mentioned it to him and the only thing he said was 'Maybe we should spend more time together'. But I'm not sure that's the solution."
"Does he bore you?"
"Nnnooohh," Mac stretched. "But our relationship isn't developing either. It's like I miss something meaningful in my life."
"You can always come and help me," Lena joked.
"What do you mean?"
Lena took a sip and put her cup down to reach for her bag.
"You know Lennard and I are members of the Living Fountain Congregation. One of the things I do is teaching Sunday school and now they put me in charge of this year's pageant. We are still a small congregation, but quite some families joined this year, so there will be about twenty-five children wanting a part. Plus all the costumes and props and so on to take care of. Lennard is in charge of making the sets and the larger props, but I'll have to provide for the smaller items. And the rehearsals, of course. I really can use some help."
Mac slowly nodded. Somehow it appealed to her.
"When are those rehearsals?" she wanted to know.
"Saturday afternoon, three to five."
"You know I might have to cancel sometimes due to work, right?"
"That's not a problem; every help is welcome," her friend reassured her. She pulled some papers out of her bag and made space on the table. In the process another paper whirled down to the floor and Mac stooped to pick it up. Without really looking she handed it over to Lena, but to her surprise the other woman blushed deeply.
"What's wrong?" Mac asked, instantly concerned.
"Nothing, but …"
Now Mac threw a look at the paper, which turned out to be an appointment letter of an OBGYN.
Mac raised her brows questioning.
Still blushing Lena nodded.
"Yes, we're expecting."
Mac dropped the letter and hastened to give her friend a big hug.
"That's great. When are you due?"
"Not for another seven months. We plan to tell people in a few weeks, after the first trimester."
"I'll keep my lips sealed," Mac promised, moving her fingers from right to left over her mouth. "How do you feel?"
"Not too bad. A bit nauseous in the morning and I need a bit more sleep, but that's all."
"And how is Lennard?"
"He is over the moon. He hopes for a boy. Being the introvert he is, he feels he will handle a boy better, or so he says," she chuckled. "He is already working on a crib."
"I'm sure your child will have to most beautiful crib in Washington," Mac laughed. She knew Lennard's work and had always admired it.
Lena shuffled the papers.
"So, you're ready to tackle a herd of excited kids?" she asked.
Mac thought for a moment. Maybe this was what she needed.
"I'll think about it. I will let you know for sure next week, okay?" she said. "Do I need to wear my uniform?"
"I don't think that will be necessary," Lena chuckled, "but I will keep your offer in mind." She looked at her watch. "Time to go," she announced. "I promised Lennard I'd pick him up at half past four." She handed the small stack of papers over to Mac. "Maybe you like to read the story before you attend the first rehearsal," she suggested. "We didn't really start yet, just made a list of the kids and the roles. We have to assign roles next time."
"Thanks," Mac put the papers into her briefcase and also stood up.
"I have to go, too. Going to have dinner with Mic tonight."
The friends left the café, walked to the parking lot and after a last hug both drove off. On her way home Mac had to suppress a sigh. She was happy for her friends, but at the same time she envied them. She wanted a child herself so badly, but it wasn't going to happen. Not in the foreseeable future, that is. She checked her inner clock. Right, she had enough time for a little d-tour to buy her friend a little present.

When she came out of the shop, the bag with two embroidered bibs in her hand, her thoughts went back to the date she would have that evening. Dinner and a movie, Mic had promised. She sighed. To be honest, she didn't feel like going out again. Longingly and with a bit of melancholy she thought about the lazy afternoons she and Harm had spent in either her or his house. Playing a game, chatting or both reading a book, just being content with each other's company.
"She shouldn't look a gift horse into the mouth' she berated herself. Mic did everything to wow her, taking her out at least once a week. But when they were at home, together, there was … nothing. Checking her internal clock she told herself to hurry. In fifty minutes Mac would be on her doorstep. Unlike someone else she knew, he was never late.

It wasn't before the next evening, that Mac found time to look at the papers Lena had given her. It turned out to be both the story as the complete script of the pageant and she read it with interest. The story was a cross-over of the Christmas story with the story of the Good Samaritan, situated in the year 30 AD; and the main characters were a little boy named Joachim and his grandfather, who was the innkeeper who had refused to take in Joseph and Mary.
She frowned. It really appealed to her, but when she had hinted about helping Lena, Mic had been very opposed. It would take too much time, he had declared, time he preferred she spend with - and on - him. Besides, work might interfere and she wouldn't be much use to her friends if she had to cancel all of the time. Plus he thought directing a pageant, or doing something religious for that matter, wasn't really 'her thing'.

Park
Sunday morning
The next day, during their weekly run, she discussed the matter with Harm. As she would have known, he was a lot more supporting.
"It will cost you a lot of time," he agreed. "Those things always take more time than you anticipate. And work can interfere, that much is true as well."
"Mic is opposed. He asked me whether I was becoming religious suddenly," she said. "I didn't like the way he said that. Mockingly. And condescending. There is nothing wrong with having faith in God and Jesus. Lena and Lennard are nice, helpful people and it felt he was ridiculing them."
"Are you …" Harm hesitated.
"Religious, you mean? I'm not a church-goer. I guess I only go at Christmas and special occasions, like weddings and baptisms. But I do believe there is more, that there is a God and that Jesus was a very inspiring person. Besides, we have free exercise of religion and I feel that gives also you the right not to be ridiculed for of what you believe."
Harm nodded.
"How do you feel about faith? About God and Jesus?" she wanted to know.
"I think I'm with you. I do believe there is a God and Jesus was not his biological son but an … an epitome so to say, of what God wanted us, mankind, to be. And I think you should teach children, so they know."
"Know what?"
They had slowed down to walking.
"That they have a place to go, when they seek spiritual guidance. It doesn't have to be a church;, a mosque or a synagogue is just as good. That life has a purpose. And then, if you don't know the stories of the Bible, you miss out on a lot of things. Morals and art and language, all are heavily influenced by the Bible."
Mac nodded; he clearly had given it some thought.
"So you think I should do it?"
"Would it harm anyone? Would it add something to your life? Would it make you happy?" he reacted with counter questions.
Mac thought.
"Yes," she said after some moments. "Yes, it would add and would make me happy. And about harming someone, Mic won't be happy, but I don't think it will harm him."
"Then do it," Harm simply stated.
"Yes, I'll do it," Mac made up her mind.

Church
First week of November
Saturday afternoon
Lennard came out of the backroom, brushing the sawdust off his sweater.
"I really need someone to help me with the sets," he declared. "Now Howard has to quit … I can't do it on my own. Too much work and for some things you just need more hands. I really need more help," he repeated.
Lena and Mac looked at each other.
"I could ask Mic," Mac suggested hesitantly. "He will pick me up at five. But I don't know …"
"Please do so," Lennard requested. "I will have a good look around me, too."

At half past four Mic Brumby arrived at the church. As soon as he walked through the door, he was hit by a wave of noise. Twenty plus children sang 'Twinkle, twinkle, little star' at the top of their lungs, while the woman in front of them tried desperately to keep them in tune. Mac was watching, biting back giggles.
"Hi luv," her boyfriend greeted her, stooping slightly to kiss her. "What's this supposed to be?"
"The preparations for a pageant," Mac told him. "Rehearsing one of the songs."
Mic looked disbelieving.
"You're sure?"
"I'm sure it will work out," Mac reassured him. "We still have seven weeks."
"Can we go or do you still have things to do?" Mic changed subjects.
"Still some things to do," Mac told him. She didn't add a 'sorry'; after all, he was half an hour early, so he couldn't expect her to be ready yet.
"Come with me," she requested instead.
Reluctantly he followed her. It was clear he knew nicer places to be. Mac led the way to the backroom, where Lennard still was struggling with one of the large sets.
"This is Lennard Dumont," Mac introduced him. "He is Lena's husband, carpenter and in charge of the props and sets. And he needs help."
She looked expectantly at Mic, but he put a step back.
"Not my cup of tea I'm afraid, luv," he refused. "I'm not a DIY'er. Not at all and never wanted to be one either. I wouldn't be of much use."
Lennard threw him an almost scornful look and Mic turned to return to the big hall, where Lena had started to teach the children another song. With a look close to disgust, Mic walked by them.
"I'll wait in the car, luv," he said, leaving a stunned Mac.

Thirty-five minutes later Mac joined him. Courteously he opened the car door for her and Mac slid onto the co-driver's seat.
"Anything you want to do next?" he asked while bringing the car to life
"No, not really. I have a ton of chores waiting for me," Mac told him. "I prefer you bring me home now."
It was clear that was not to Mic's liking, but he refrained from protesting.
It was silent for a while, but then Mac opened her mouth.
"Did you ever think about having children of your own?"
"Not so much," Mic answered.
"But do you want them?"
"Mmmm," Mic shrugged indeterminate.
Mac just looked at him.
"But you can have all the kids you want, luv," he quickly added. "We'll talk about it later."
Fifteen minutes later he stopped in front of her building and walked around the car to help her out of her seat. He leaned in to kiss her lips, but Mac turned her head slightly and he had to be satisfied with a kiss on the cheek.
"See you on Monday," he said, clearly disappointed, but Mac didn't react.
"Yes, see you on Monday," she confirmed, already on her way to the door

Inside she made herself a drink and sat down to think.
She wanted children, very much, but it was clear Mic didn't. And she definitely didn't want to raise a child in a relationship where both parents were not equally committed. Her own youth had taught her painfully, how it was to grow up in a family where you weren't sure you were loved and accepted. Involuntary, her thoughts went back to the time Harm had proposed to have a baby together. "In five years," he had said. She was sure he would be a devoted dad, wanting to make up for the years he hadn't had with his father. He loved children and was good with them, affectionate and with an eye for their needs, but firm when necessary. With a smile she recalled him playing with little AJ, but also how he got along with Josh, the son of Annie Pendry, a woman he once dated.
But back to Mic. Maybe it was time she took a serious look at what he expected and wanted from a lasting relationship and wat sheherself expected and wanted. They had been dating for over half a year now, it was almost Christmas and he was hinting at the best Christmas gift for him, being her moving his ring from her right to her left hand.
Was she prepared to do that? She took the ring off of her right ring finger and put it on the left. She looked at her hands, trying to feel … yes, trying to feel what? Joy? Elation? She felt nothing but a slight feel of panic. No, getting engaged to Mic was definitely not the thing to do. Not now, not yet.
Putting the ring on the table she rose and went to fix another beverage. While she waited for the water to boil, she rubbed her hands. It felt better than she had anticipated, waring no ring at all. Frowning, mug in hand, she walked back to the couch and picked it up again, to slide it back unto her finger. After all, she had promised Mic … what had she promised Mic? Right, that would be to think about it. And that was exactly what she was doing, she told herself.
But first she had another problem to solve, the problem of making sets. Mic was not an option anymore; he had made that very clear.
She could ask Harm. He was always prepared to help and he loved children. Plus he was a skilled DIY'er. Her hand went to the phone and she punched in the digits. It was only when his answering machine picked up, she remembered he was on an investigation. But she didn't want to put the receiver down without leaving a message.
"Hi Harm, It's Mac. I forgot you're on an investigation. When you hear this, welcome back in town. I hope you had a good trip and got all the intel you needed. I have to ask you a favour, but I guess it has to wait. See you."
With a sigh she replaced the handset. Hopefully he would be back tomorrow or the day after.

Sunday evening
Harm's apartment
Harm closed the door behind him. He stretched. It felt good to be back home. Investigation completed, he now had enough material to bring the case to court. He brought his duffel bag to the bedroom and headed for the bathroom. A quick shower, a hot drink and an early night, he promised himself. There would be another day tomorrow.
Clad in jogging pants and a tee and a cup of cocoa in hand he sat on the couch and reached for the answering machine. Two messages from sales men he deleted immediately, the message his uniforms were ready to be picked up from the drycleaner was jotted down in his notebook and then there was Mac's voice piping up. He leaned back into the cushions. He had missed her. It had been four days since he had heard her voice. Before, they would have called at least every other day, even when one of them was on an investigation or TAD. But since Mic … he made an effort not to bare his teeth.
Once more he hit the button and listened to her words. He was curious; what would she want him to do? With a deep breath he drained his cup. He would hear tomorrow.

Next morning
JAG headquarters
Despite some setbacks, Harm was relatively early. That morning his corvette had refused duty and since he had lent out his SUV, he had to take a cab.
The first person he saw though, was the man he wanted to see the least, Mic Brumby.
"Investigation over? It went well?" the Aussie asked casually, his smile not reaching his eyes. He would be defending against Harm prosecuting.
"Yes," Herm retorted. He was determined not to be sucked into another brawl, but couldn't stop himself from adding "I'll show you, in court." It earned him a scowl, but the other man kept silent.
Harm brought his stuff to his office and went for a cup of coffee. In the kitchen he found Mac, waiting till the coffee machine had done its duty.
"Hi," she greeted him cheerfully.
"Hi yourself," Harm smiled back. He put a step closer. "It was nice to hear your voice, yesterday."
"You didn't call last time when I came back from an investigation." Sh**! Where did that come from? It was true and she had missed his message, but she had told herself he probably had forgotten. Besides, she hadn't wanted him to know she had missed it.
"I know," he said to her surprise. "I wanted to, but …" Over her head he saw Mic nearing the kitchen.
"Maybe, if you have time, we can discuss the plea-bargain in the Nelson case now?" he changed subjects. For a moment Mac looked baffled, then she heard her admirer's voice behind her.
"So here you are."
She turned and gave him a smile, hoping he didn't see how much she has to force herself. 'Why couldn't he just stay away for a little bit longer?' she thought, fighting her annoyance.
"I guess now is a time as good as any to go over that plea-bargain, Commander," she answered, looking at Harm again. "Just let me grab the paperwork and I'll be with you in a minute."

Moments later they were in Harm's office, door closed but blinds open and paperwork on the table. But it wasn't the case they were discussing first.
"Well, why didn't you? Call me?"
Harm hesitated. He didn't want to blacken 'Bugme', but at the same time …
"Well," Mac repeated, "tell me, I'm a big girl, I can take it."
"The last time I did, the morning after you came home, Mic came to me and told me he heard the message, too and you had a fight over it. I don't want you to … to have to take the heat."
For a moment Mac was stunned, then her eyes flashed. Now Mic had crossed a line.
"Next time I'm on an investigation, you're welcome, very welcome to leave a message," she told Harm. Her tone and expression made it very clear she would deal with Mic.
Harm thought it wise not to comment; instead he changed subjects.
"What favour did you want to ask me for?"
"Favour?" It took Mac a second to follow him.
"In your message you said there was a favour you needed to ask."
"Right," Mac remembered. "Remember that pageant I'm helping a friend with?"
"Yes."
"Well, they need an extra pair of hands to help out with the props and sets."
Involuntarily Harm's eyes went to Mic's office.
"No, Mic is definitely not the right man for the job," Mac commented coldly. She winced at her own words; before she wouldn't have been this blunt. Harm raised a questioning brow, but when she didn't react, he asked "What exactly do they need me to do?"
"Lennard, that is Lena's husband, is a carpenter and he is building the sets. He had a friend helping him, but that friend had to cancel due to some family issues. He really needs help. There are about four different backgrounds and a lot of smaller items to be made."
"And that is when? What evenings?" Harm wanted to know.
"We have rehearsals on Saturday afternoon and he is working on his part at the same time and I believe he is there on Tuesday evening as well, but I'm not sure of that. I have their number at home; I can text it to you and you can contact him, okay?"
"Sounds like a plan. Maybe I can pick up some new skills and tricks from him," Harm agreed. "And now, let's focus on the case."
When Mic threw a suspicious look into Harm's office ten minutes later, they were busy comparing notes, pointing out arguments and discussing a deal both parties would be happy with.

That evening a little jingle announced there was a text and when Harm checked, he saw Mac had sent him her friends' phone number. He wasted no time in calling and they arranged he would come over the next evening and discuss possibilities.