Disclaimer: Don't own'em!
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Fresh Start 10
Later that Sunday, at the Burnett Home...
Harm knocked on the door, while Mac watched. She smoothed her dress and straightened her hair.
"Nervous?" Harm teased her, that taunting gleam in his eye. It usually had instigated her to spar with him, but today it just made her happy. She'd missed the annoying little boy he sometimes became.
"Am not." She replied. In the last half hour she'd shed some tears, and then made out with Harm. So of course she wanted to make sure she looked fit for public consumption. Speaking of which ... she thought to turn to Harm and make sure he looked presentable too. An assessing look determined that he presented just fine. Better than fine. Mac straightened his collar, just to make sure, and was satisfied. Harm was watching her, an affectionate smile on his lips and an altogether different gleam in his eye. The door opened before Mac could process either.
"Harm, Sarah!" Trish exclaimed.
"Trish," Mac said genially, "I brought croissants," She said, indicating the box Harm was holding. The rest of her greeting was forgotten when Trish pulled her into a warm hug. A hug that was tight with relief, soft with comfort.
"I am so happy you could join us, Mac," Trish enthused. Mac glanced at Harm in question, wondering at his mother's welcome. She didn't know Trish very well, but she thought there might be more emotion in this hug than one simple brunch could justify.
"Thank you, Ma'am - um, Trish," Mac immediately corrected. One day, she hoped, she'd stop retreating into formality whenever overwhelmed by Harm's mother.
"And Harm!" Trish said, releasing Mac and moving to hug her son. "I am so happy you brought Sarah!"
"Mom," Harm said, looking slightly alarmed himself. He gave Mac a sheepish expression as he extricated himself from his mother's embrace. He shoved the box of croissants towards her. "Here, you should put these in a bread basket." He spoke quickly and ushered Mac through the foyer, "Is Frank out back?" He called over his shoulder. "I'll introduce Mac."
Before Mac could think to process the strange look of warning Harm had directed at his mother or his mother's exuberant greeting, he'd rushed Mac away from Trish and towards the back of the house.
"Frank should be out on the deck, Mac." He told her, hands firmly on her shoulders. "I can give you the dime tour of this place after breakfast if you want."
She knew him well enough to know he was trying to distract her.
"Is everything okay, Harm?" She glanced up at him, eyebrow raised.
"Yeah," He nodded, looking a bit embarrassed. "Mom tends to get a bit overexcited when it comes to my, ah, personal life."
The tips of his ears were red, something Mac found thoroughly amusing.
Before she could tease him about it, he pushed open the patio door and let Mac exit before following her out.
"Frank," He called to the older gentleman who was sitting at the table, immersed in a newspaper. "Meet Sarah MacKenzie. Mac, this is Frank."
The older man stood up, grinning. Mac thought it a very infectious smile.
"Pleased to meet you, Sir," She offered her hand.
Frank took her hand, but instead of shaking it, he stepped closer to her and kissed her right cheek and then her left cheek in greeting. "The pleasure is most definitely mine, Sarah." His grin deepened and with it his eyes shone. "Please, call me Frank."
Mac was effectively charmed.
"Why don't you have a seat, Sarah," He led her over to a chair. "Can I offer you anything to drink? Coffee, orange juice? It's freshly squeezed."
"Thank you, Frank," She replied, taking the seat he offered. "Orange juice sounds great."
He poured juice into her glass from a pitcher before reclaiming his chair. "Harm says you agreed to take flying lessons from him?"
"He did talk me into it," Mac replied, eying the delicious spread on the table.
Frank laughed. "You make it sound like that's a bad thing! And here I thought you would help me convince Trish that my taking flying lessons is not a bad idea."
"Well," Mac glanced in mischief at Harm who was seating himself in the chair next to hers. "I am excited to learn, and I think it's a great idea, but the last time Harm took me up-"
"Mac!" Harm interrupted, alarmed. "You cannot tell that story within earshot of my mother!"
Frank raised his eyebrow, and glanced towards the shut patio doors. The mischief in his eyes mirrored Mac's. "She can't hear us, Harm." His conspiratorial look was all for Mac. "What's the story."
"Well, we had engine trouble in midair. Turns out the fuel line broke-"
"It was a poor quality piece." Harm declared, crossing his arms. "I even wrote a letter to the manufacturer."
"Of course you did." Mac laughed. "He landed Sarah in the middle of a field, with nothing but miles of forest around us. And then he refused to leave her. It took a lot of convincing but I finally talked him into leaving Sarah behind so we could go out in search of help-"
"You left Sarah behind!" Frank exclaimed, looking at Harm in surprise.
Harm huffed. "Have you heard Mac when she argues? It's easier to give in."
"Said in the true spirit of a man who knows when he's wrong," Mac threw back.
Frank laughed. "She's got you pegged, son."
"If you take her side on this," Harm joked, "I'm going to stop trying to convince Mom to let you take flying lessons."
With a grin in Mac's direction, Frank heaved a theatrical sigh. "I'll have to agree that sometimes it is easier to give in with women."
"Frank," Mac said, leaning in towards the older man, "Given Harm's utter failure in convincing Trish so far, I think you'd be better off on my team."
"You think you can convince Mom?" Harm turned to her in surprise.
"I know I can," She declared. "I'm even willing to bet on it." She felt that long-forgotten, familiar thrill at challenging him.
Harm gave Mac an appraising look. "I don't think you know what you're up against. Mom is even more stubborn than I am."
Was that even possible, Mac wondered. "Name your terms, Flyboy."
He gave it some thought, and then a diabolical look overran his features. "If I win, you have to come over to my place for dinner."
"That's a terrible bet!" She exclaimed. She had incentive to lose, not to win with those terms.
"And eat my meatless meatloaf," He continued, a terribly wicked gleam in his eye.
"You better be sure about this, Mac," Frank chimed in. "Trish and I have faked many unexpected social engagements to get out of eating his meatless meatloaf."
Mac laughed, while Harm looked offended. "That is not true, Frank." He glanced at Mac, who tried not to appear too amused, "He's just kidding, Mac."
"And if I win?" She asked.
"If you win I will take you out for the biggest, juiciest, bloodiest steak in the city."
"You have a deal," Mac said, offering her hand. Harm shook it. Mac grinned happily, already envisioning her gorgeous slab of steak.
"What deal is this?" Trish asked, stepping through the door with a plate of eggs in her hands and a warm smile on her face.
Immediately, all three turned to her with guilty expressions. Mac let go of Harm's hand, and then they all spoke at once:
"Those eggs look delicious."
"You outdid yourself with breakfast."
"That smells great."
Trish stood still just outside the door for a moment, her brow furrowed. Trish looked first at Mac, who quickly looked away. She wasn't used to that particular look of motherly berating. Trish then turned to Harm, who stoically returned her gaze, and then to Frank, who offered a tentative smile.
"This is about those flying lessons you want to take, isn't it, Frank." She declared, setting the plate of eggs on the table and taking a seat.
"Actually," Harm said, exchanging glances with Frank. Harm's face took on an expression he only wore when he thought he was at the threshold of victory. "We were discussing Mac's flying lessons."
"Is that so." Trish asked, turning to Mac with a warm smile. "Are you looking forward to it, Mac?"
"I am," Mac replied, however, before she could continue Harm cut her off.
"That's true. You know, Mom, Mac has only had such wonderful experiences when flying with me that it made her want to learn."
Mac barely avoided choking on her orange juice at hearing that untruth. She looked at Harm, who appeared perfectly serious. Frank, for his part, was hiding his laughter behind a napkin.
"And anyone can learn to fly, really. I was surprised myself that the flight school has such a varied clientele," Harm continued. "Everything from teenagers to retired couples ready for their next adventure."
Trish raised one eyebrow, and Mac thought that Harm's best option would be to fallback and formulate a better plan of action.
"As a matter of fact, a couple in their sixties came by just last week," He continued, seeming a bit nervous himself at Trish's expression.
And Mac reminded herself that Harm had never been really great at dispassionate plans. Even Frank looked alarmed as Trish's other eyebrow shot up. It was clear his mother was on to him.
"Nice try, Harmon." His mother said, before looking over the table in dismay. "I forgot the croissants," She said, standing up. "I'll be right back."
"Real smooth, Rabb," Mac said once Trish had left the deck.
Frank laughed.
"Now let me work my magic," She stood up and followed Trish into the house.
"Mac," Trish said upon seeing her enter the kitchen. "Do you need anything?"
"Just a glass of water, please," Mac replied. "I can help myself."
"Nonsense, it won't take a minute," Said Trish, opening the cupboard for a glass and proceeding to fill it with water.
"Thank you for inviting me, Trish." She set the ball rolling.
"Mac I've been pestering Harm to bring you over for years." Trish laughed, and Mac tried to hide her surprise at the revelation. "I'm just glad you and Harm are giving this a try. You are very good for him," She handed Mac the glass of water. "And I know he can be good for you."
"He already is, already has been," Mac said, taking the glass, wondering why Trish was trying to convince her so earnestly.
"Harm may get a bit..." Trish hesitated, "Overprotective at times," She leveled an assessing look at Mac. There was an edge of worry her expression. "But his heart is always in the right place."
"He's a good man," Mac agreed, unsure of what was happening here. What was Trish thinking ... Mac looked down at her glass, an idea suddenly forming. She felt that blunt edge of guilt against her gut. After this past year, maybe Trish just didn't trust her. "I understand, Trish," She said this with quite a bit of difficulty.
"Understand what?" Trish replied.
"I ... I understand why you might be ... upset with me." Mac looked up, and was compelled to elaborate at Trish's expression of confusion. "You said Harm was miserable this past year, and..." She trailed off.
Trish's eyebrows shot up in something akin to horror. She quickly shook her head.
"Oh, darling." She put her hand on Mac's arm, "I know my son well enough not to be blind to his faults." Regret took shape in her eyes. "He let his father's disappearance consume him for so long that he didn't go through all those normal phases in life that would have opened up his heart. I used to worry about him quite a bit."
"It was good for him to find his dad," Mac agreed, not exactly sure where Trish was going with this.
Trish smiled, "Mac, it was good for him to find you."
Mac didn't even even know how to process that, and her confusion must have been evident.
"He wouldn't have been so despondent this year otherwise, or so determined now," Trish explained. "Growing pains."
Mac smiled. What a wonderfully positive way of looking at heartbreak.
"I was lucky to find him too," Mac offered. "I just ... things got really bad for a while and I forgot that. But I won't forget again. Which," She continued, remembering her mission. "Which is why I accepted Harm's offer to take flying lessons."
Trish cocked her head to the side, her brow furrowed. "You sound worried."
"Well," Mac glanced over her shoulder towards the deck. Harm would kill her if he ever found out she revealed this to his mother. "Harm probably hasn't told you that he took me up flying once."
Trish shook her head.
"There was a problem with the fuel line and he had to land us in a field surrounded by forest."
"Oh my," Trish said.
"We left Sarah behind to find some help, and long story short we had to spend the night in the forest."
"Sounds like quite the adventure." Trish laughed.
Mac managed a smile. Adventure indeed. "I learned a lot about Harm that night; namely how important flying is to Harm. It's his connection with his father, one apart from the Navy."
That caught Trish's attention. Mac was encouraged.
"When he offered to give me lessons last week," She went on, "I think it was his way of sharing a part of him with me, of telling me..." She didn't want to go into the full details of her trust issues where Harm was concerned, or Harm's control issues where she was concerned.
"Of telling you what you mean to him," Trish finished.
Mac nodded, and watched as the pieces clicked together for Trish.
"So," Trish said slowly, "You're saying you think that's why he's offering Frank lessons?"
Mac nodded. "I think so."
Trish mulled this over. "Harm has never been very good at communicating," She acknowledged. Then she sighed, looking at Mac with a wry smile "You haven't seen Frank's car collection, Sarah. He also owns a yacht. I can just see him adding a Cessna to the list." She shook her head in fond exasperation. "I wish they would bond over something simpler, like a game of checkers. Or Scrabble."
"That would be far too simple." Mac laughed, and Trish joined her.
Trish stood up, patting Mac's knee. "Come on, darling, let's get back to breakfast." She picked up the croissants, now in a basket, and waited for Mac to follow.
"Harm," Trish said as she stepped out onto the deck. She put the basket of croissants on the table and wrapped her arms around Harm's neck in a hug. "I think it is very sweet and wonderful of you to offer Frank lessons." She looked up at Frank, whose jaw was open in shock. "You should take him up on his offer." She place a kiss on the head of a very surprised Harm before straightening herself. "I forgot the fruit basket" She said happily. "I'll be right back."
The moment the patio doors shut behind Trish, both Harm and Frank turned to look at Mac.
"Have you ever won a bet against her?" Frank asked Harm, his shock still intact.
"Actually," Mac answered, smiling at Harm's stunned expression, "I just borrowed one of Harm's tactics: the good old emotional appeal." She then turned to Frank, "So, tell me Frank, where can I find the best steak in the city?"
--
Some time later, at an airfield miles away...
Harm stood stood next to Mac, watching her as she took in the airfield in front of them. As her eyes roamed the hangers and the parked planes, her hand slipped into his. Harm grinned: this was the first time she'd initiated such contact, and she didn't even seem to realize she was doing it.
"Wow, Harm." She said, still looking over the field. "This is really impressive."
He was about to reply when he saw John, one of the mechanics, watching them with keen interest. An interest, Harm thought, that John should be directing at the plane he was inspecting. Out of instinct, or perhaps training, Harm let go of Mac's hand. He realized only after he did it that Mac would probably take it the wrong way. He turned to her to explain, but found her watching John with a look of amusement.
"Oops," She grinned at Harm, and for John's benefit she made a big show of putting her hands in her pockets. "Don't want to distract the troops with scuttlebutt."
"Mac," He started apologetically, and then realized that she didn't seem upset. If anything, she seemed to be enjoying his discomfort.
"Don't worry, Harm." She was quick to assure him. "I understand. I wouldn't let you hold my hand if you came to see me at JLS."
And at that moment, Harm was hit by a rare moment of clarity.
"You know what, Mac. You're right." Wearing his widest grin, he pulled her hand out of her pocket and held it in his. It was exhilarating to be able to do this. "I think I just found another perk to no longer being in the Navy."
Mac laughed delightedly. "Just don't try to hold my hand if you come visit me at work," She warned in a teasing tone.
Harm felt a blanket of happiness surround him. He was at his airfield, about to teach Mac how to fly, and he didn't have a single regulation, protocol or self-imposed restriction to keep him from touching her. Or from...
He leaned down and kissed her.
"I keep forgetting you gave me an open invitation to do that." He raised an eyebrow, not able to hide his smugness.
Mac actually blushed. She'd probably noticed, just as he had, that not only was John watching them, but a handful of other employees were as well. He found he didn't care. Not only did a good group of people work here, but he'd earned their respect as an aviator and an employer since he took over the operation of the flight school. Kissing the love of his life would hardly change that. Besides which, he was just too damn happy in this moment to care much about anything but the woman in front of him.
"C'mon," She tugged his hand, trying not to appear as off-kilter as she evidently was. Still got it, Rabb. Harm felt very cocky.
"Show me around," She insisted.
"Hold on," He said, keeping her from getting too far. "First, tell me how you managed to change Mom's mind."
She looked at him for a moment. "Trade secret?" She offered with a slight grin.
"Nice try." He shook his head. "Just tell me," He coaxed.
"I only mentioned what flying means to you," She shrugged, seeming a bit self-conscious under his scrutiny. "And what it meant for you to offer Frank lessons."
He stared at her intently, he couldn't help it. He thought maybe, just maybe he was getting through to her. And maybe he was coming to a few realizations about himself too, and an acceptance of the path his life had taken this past year. He had been so far from her, the distance between them larger than any continent could span, and yet it had worked to bring him closer to her. It had helped him grow into the kind of person she deserved, into the kind of person he could be proud of. Not because of the number of medals he'd had pinned to his chest, or the number of lives he'd saved or cases he'd won, or even the breadth of his bravery, but because he'd opened himself up. To her. And in this lay a new kind of strength, not the weakness he'd thought was there all those years before. He never would have learned this valuable lesson if it hadn't been for this terrible, awful past year where every breath marked his time apart from her, and yet where each breath made him stronger. All the recriminations, the heartache, the anger through those dark, lonely nights were a painful, necessary acknowledgment of what he felt for her. Each heartbeat brought him out of hiding. It was fate - he knew this with a conviction that would see him through the rest of his life - it was fate that they meet when they did. Only fate could bring them together when he was ready to act on his heart's fondest wish. When he was ready to be the kind of person who deserved her trust.
"Do you know how much you mean to me?" He asked, raising his fingers to caress her face.
Mac went still. She searched his eyes for long moments before nodding her head. He could see it in her eyes: she understood at least part of it. He still had to explain so much to her, he knew, but she was taking this - the flying lessons - at face value. A value that he himself had not really consciously given thought to. His love for her blossomed with the realization.
"Come," She said, tugging his hand, clearly unnerved by his scrutiny of her. "Give me the tour. And," She added with a nod towards the curious faces watching them, "Introduce me. Then you can take me flying."
He led her towards the main hangar, all set to comply to her request. Her wishes would set the pace for them, but his words and his actions would make his intent clear. He thought of the coming week, and started making plans for all he needed to do.
--
The following Monday...
A knock sounded at Mac's door.
"Enter," She called, looking up from her work.
"Ma'am," Jen stepped into her office, carrying a bright green box with a yellow ribbon. "A package just came for you."
Mac laughed, feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. She knew what was in the box. "Thanks, Jen," She stood up to take the box from her yeoman.
Jen looked about ready to burst with curiosity, a fact Mac was more than glad to ignore.
"That will be all," She dismissed, and then thought to add, "And hold my call for the next ten minutes."
"Yes, Ma'am." Jen responded crisply, not asking the question that was obviously on the tip of her tongue. And that, thought Mac happily, was the results of months of training the younger woman, and another example of how the Marines got the job done.
Mac waited for Jen to shut the door behind her before settling herself on the couch in her office. She removed her pumps, tucked her feet under her, and opened the box. Inside was a cupcake with extra icing and a note from Harm. The note simply said H, but she knew what to read between the lines.
Monday was fast becoming her favourite day of the week.
Ten minutes of hedonism later, Mac put her pumps back on and reclaimed her seat behind the desk. But before re-immersing herself in work, she picked up the phone and called Harm's number.
"Rabb," His voice came through the line.
"Don't think one cupcake makes up for all the homework you saddled me with," She said, leaning back in her chair.
He laughed. "I had to try," He teased. "The look on your face was priceless!"
"Right," Mac huffed. "What did you expect? You complain about the worksheet I'd drawn up for your red herring Russian lessons, and then you give me a massive flight manual and tell me I need to familiarize myself with it by next Sunday. I do have fulltime job, Harm."
"You lazy students," He assumed a professorial haughtiness, "Always complaining."
"It's huge! It'd made a better doorstop than a book."
"Speaking of which, how much progress have you made?"
Mac couldn't even respond to that. He'd dropped her home at 2230 last night and then she was too wired from spending an entire, wonderful, incredible day with him to sleep. Not to mention the change in him. She couldn't put her finger on it, but something in him had changed from the moment he'd brought her to his airfield ... or maybe she'd first noticed the change then, in which case who knew when it had occurred ... Sleep had been a distant second to the wonder that had kept her company last night, trying to figure out what exactly had been different about him. And then thinking about the way he'd looked at her, touched her, even spoken to her. There was an intensity, a depth to it all that was overwhelming and unfamiliar and exhilarating. He'd told her he loved her in the morning, before breakfast with his parents, but she'd actually seen it, felt it in the airfield that afternoon. Not to mention it had made him so incredibly irresistible. That was another reason sleep remained elusive last night. She'd needed two cups of coffee just to get the morning started.
"And you said I'd make a tough teacher," She replied, bringing her thoughts back to point. "I haven't made any progress. You kept me out way past my curfew."
"Did you have a good time yesterday?" He asked. Someone who didn't know him any better would've missed the uncertainty in his voice.
"I did," She assured him, the grin that had never strayed too far reaffirmed its presence. "It was great to meet everyone you work with." Her favourite part, though, had been when he'd taken her up in one of the planes and started showing her how to man the controls. Watching him explain what all the dials and gauges did and how they worked made her feel an odd sense of ... contentment. There was something about him when he was sitting next to her, teaching her how to fly. She wasn't sure what that something was, but she had many Sundays ahead of her during which to figure it out.
"Good." He replied. "Just make sure you go through the book."
Mac huffed at the thought of all that reading. "Yes, Sir," She sighed.
"Will I see you tonight?" He asked.
She eyed the stack of files on her desk, and thought of the work she had ahead of her. "Actually, I think I'm going to have another kind of homework altogether to do tonight."
"Well," He said with only a slight hesitation, "If you're up for it, I have to get my own paperwork organized for some meetings I have in the city on Thursday with the accountant and lawyers. I can bring it your place along with some take-out." He paused, before quickly adding, "Unless you're busy, or need some space-"
"Harm," She cut him off before he got too far ahead of himself with his worry. He was so cute. "It's fine. In fact, it's better than fine. I'd love to have a working dinner with you. I've missed those."
"Me too, MacKenzie." His smile was evident in the way he said her name.
"So I'll see you tonight?" Mac twisted the phone cord around her finger, already counting down the four hours, 39 minutes and 42 seconds until she could get out of here and head home.
"You most definitely will, Sweet thing."
She laughed at the endearment. "Bye, Harm."
Mac hung up the phone and looked down, unseeing, at the file on her desk. Sweet thing.She smiled.
--