16
Harm pushed his chair back from his desk, linked his fingers behind his head, leaned back and stretched, holding the position for a few long seconds and then allowed himself gradually to relax, feeling the tension ooze out of his body as he did so.
It was the end of his second week as head military legal advisor to the SecNav, working closely with Anne Prescott, the General Counsel of the Navy , the SecNav's chief civilian legal advisor, and now having read himself into the position, and taken over Tracy Manetti's workload – much of it routine, thankfully – he had also moved into her office and, despite his protests, behind her desk, while she had arranged for a folding table to be brought in and had worked from that as they had gone through the process of handover and takeover.
Feeling her eyes on him now, he tilted his head towards her, and seeing the smile on her face, he raised an inquiring eyebrow, "Something amusing you Commander?" he asked, his own lazy grin not far from the surface.
"Why, Commander… I was just admiring your capacity for relaxation under the most unusual circumstances," she replied in her attractive, light Virginian drawl.
Harm looked at her suspiciously. He had learned during the course of their previous acquaintance that Tracy Manetti had a very dry, droll even, sense of humour, and he was sometimes unable to tell whether she was being serious or not. Something to do with the profiling course she had done with the fibbies he assumed, the way she was able to put up a shield to guard her thoughts.
But, "Unusual circumstances?" was all he said.
"Why, yes. You've got all the stress and strain of reading yourself into a new job; then at the same time, you're preparing and packing two apartments ready to move into a new house, with a new baby on the way and then all the CPS hoops to jump through to get custody of Mattie. You should be a bundle of nerves, but you're not… you're just stretching out just like one of Daddy's coon hounds after a run through the woods!"
Harm grinned, "One of daddy's coon dogs? he queried, "That's the first time I've ever been compared to a hound dog! Oh, well, there's a first time for everything! And as for not stressing about it all, well there's a little story I've recently been told that just about points up the futility of that!"
Tracy sat a little straighter in her chair, "Oh, Commander, I do love stories!"
Harm looked across the office at her, yes, that was definitely a tease. OKaaay… Tracy Manetti was just about to learn a lesson. She thought he was bluffing? Very well.
"Yeah, it's a story that goes back to the First World War, where there are two Tommies, sitting in a trench one night. One of the guys is an old hand, the other is a rookie, and is showing his nerves. Well the old hand lights up his pipe, leans back against the wall of the trench and says to the rookie, 'Worried, son?', and the kid says, 'Yeah, I'm worried.' The older guy says, 'It's not worth it. Look at this way: You're either in the army or you're not. If you're not in the army, why worry? If you're in the army, you're either at the front, or you're not. If you're not at the front, why worry? If you're at the front, then the Jerries are either shooting at you, or they're not. If they're not shooting at you, why worry? If they are shooting at you, then they either hit you or they don't. If they don't hit you, why worry? If they hit you, you're either dead or not. If you're not dead, you'll be going home, so why worry, and if you're dead, then you can't worry. So, just goes to show son, worrying never was worthwhile!'"
Harm paused, waiting for Tracy's reaction. She did not keep him waiting long, as she burst into laughter.
"Harm that's one the most ridiculous things I've ever heard! But, it's also one of the most logical! You'll have to write that down for me sometime!" she said as she recovered her breath and wiped her eyes. Then she continued shrewdly, "But that's a bit of change of direction for you isn't it? I mean. I won't say you're a worrier, but you do tend to not let up once you've gotten you're teeth into something!"
"You say that like it was a bad thing," he observed quietly, all the while watching her keenly.
"No, not necessarily a bad thing," she answered slowly, but it can – and pardon me if I'm out of line – and it has, in your case, from time to time slipped over into obsession."
Harm winced at her straightforward no-nonsense approach. It was one of things he liked about Tracy, but it wasn't quite so admirable when directed against himself, or so he had just discovered.
"Yeah… well… what can I say?" he shrugged with a rather shamefaced grin, "You're right, it did slip into obsession from time to time, and it is something I've only learned recently, I discovered I need to let go of some things if I was to have any chance at… well, It was a hard lesson to learn, but with some help from my friends, I think I'm learning it." He hesitated, before adding in slight embarrassment, "and I'd like to think you were one of those friends, Tracy."
"Why, thank you, Harm. I'd like that, and I'd like to think the reverse was also true!"
"Yeah, I'd like that too… And Tracy, as a friend, I need to ask a small favour…" Harm fidgeted a little restlessly, a circumstance not lost on Tracy.
However, she refrained from commenting on his apparent discomfort, merely tilting her head to one side and raising an eyebrow.
The expression of interest on her face was sufficient encouragement for Harm to lean forward with his elbows on the desk, "Yeah, when you report for duty on Monday… at Falls Church… I would be grateful if, unless you were directly asked, not to mention who took your billet here…"
"You think scuttlebutt won't already have reached the suburbs?" Tracy's tone was a mixture of doubt and amusement.
Harm shrugged, "It probably has, but as you know, I left Falls Church under less than satisfactory circumstances, and since then I've had one or two… ah… differences of opinion with the Admiral, and with Colonel MacKenzie. I'm not certain as to how far along the road to his resignation the Admiral has gone, so I'm not sure who is actually sitting in the big chair today, and despite all that has passed between us, I don't wish relations between the Admiral and myself to get any worse…"
Tracy nodded her head, she too could see no point in further inflaming that particular situation, but her curiosity compelled her to ask, "And what about your links to Colonel MacKenzie?"
Harm gave a short bark of laughter, "There are no links between Mac and myself!" he retorted, and then in response to the doubting expression creeping over Tracy's face, he added, "Whatever possibility there might have been of us ever having any links other than working links was killed in Paraguay when the good Colonel made it abundantly clear that there would 'never' be an 'us'."
Tracy gave her head a slight shake. This was almost more than was comprehensible, even in the short time she had been at JAG the bonds of attachment between Harm and Sarah MacKenzie were so obvious, and had seemed so strong, that the bitter cynicism now plain in his voice was bewildering to say the least.
"Harm…" she began slightly hesitantly, "What happened down there?"
"Classified!" he almost snapped, but then seeing the instant shock on her face at his tone, he relented and added more conversationally. "Tracy, I know you have the clearance, but if ever there was a case of need to know… And I'm afraid that you…"
"Don't need to know?" she interrupted, her customary whimsical expression back in place.
"Oh…" Harm thought for a few seconds before adding in somewhat grudging tones, "Well… I suppose I could tell you… but if I did, I'd have to kill you. Are you sure it's worth it?"
Tracy's smile broadened, "I do believe that I will pass on that offer, kind sir!"
"Yeah, I thought you might." Harm grinned in reply.
Tracy's eyes clouded for a moment, "Was it really that bad?" she asked in concern.
Harm's grin faded as he regarded her levelly for a few moments before he replied, "Yeah, it was…"
Tracy looked at him keenly. Whatever had happened down south, and then its aftermath had wrought a change on Harmon Rabb. Sure, he still smiled and joked… but… the smile was never quite the same full-blown cocky grin that had melted so many female hearts, and sometimes it seemed that it didn't quite reach his eyes, and then every once in a while he seemed to slip into a sort of melancholy brooding. But….
Keeping her friendly smile in place she asked, "You are coming to the party later though, right?"
"Ummm… probably not…" he gave an apologetic-half smile. "As you said, I've got a lot on my plate outside work; we're still packing, and although Mattie's been - and is still being - a huge help to Catherine, time isn't on our side." He noted the brief moue of disappointment on his companion's face and quickly added, "But, once we're settled, I'd be glad to join you on some future occasion, so… rain check?"
Tracy sighed, "OK, rain check it is… and don't think for a moment that I won't be cashing it in!"
"Oh… I don't doubt that! Now… Commander, you still have an hour before you hand over to me, so let's look at these personnel matters again and make sure that we've haven't got the same body in more than one billet!"
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Lieutenant Colonel Sarah MacKenzie signed her name at the bottom of the page with a flourish, closed the last of the files in front of her and looked diagonally across the desk at the Admiral.
The old Seal removed his reading glasses and scrubbed a hand backwards over his scalp, "Well that seems to wrap it up Colonel. Everything – except the filling of empty billets seems to be in order, and I've lit a fire under the sixes of detailers at BUPERS, and the Corps Monitors as well, so hopefully it won't be too long until HQ is back up and running at full strength, and under your guidance achieving its full potential again!"
The JAG rose from his seat and turning to face the windows he clasped his hands behind his back and cleared his throat. "Colonel, it is going to be mostly your task, in the short term, to restore both productivity and morale here in Falls Church. I didn't see it happening, but somehow, over the last eighteen months this office has gone to hell in a hand basket. I took my eye off the ball, and I failed to see what was going on under my nose, and I…. I … turned into a damn'…. politician. I've left you with an unholy mess, and for that I am most sincerely very sorry…"
"Sir, do you really have to go? Everyone… I mean…"
"Colonel, if I didn't resign, then the SecNav would have fired me. You were prepared to resign rather than continue to serve under my command; the Gunnery Sergeant is waiting for orders, Comma… uh… Rabb point blank, and in no uncertain terms, told me that he no longer trusted me and would never serve under me again, twenty-three of the support staff have requested transfers out – by the way, how many have withdrawn their applications since I announced that I was retiring?"
"Eighteen, sir, but…"
"But nothing, Colonel. Proves my point! I thought that Rabb was the disruptive element here at Falls Church, seems I was wrong. Seems like the truly disruptive element was me. My day in the navy has passed. I'm no longer a sailor, I forgot the bonds of service and comradeship, and I was prepared to sit on my hands and wait for the CIA to pull your and Gunny's sixes out of their fire – forgetting not only the code that I lived by for over thirty years, but also that as… as far as Langley is concerned, dying is the price you pay for screwing up. I should have checked Webb's plan more carefully, I should have ensured that it was properly sanctioned and had proper support. Hell, I should have been suspicious of his motives in requesting you, and not Rabb. No Colonel, this whole goat-rope is my fault, so I gotta go. It's no big thing really. I'm looking forward to taking a vacation for the first time in years, and hell, I've got enough years in so that my pension is damn nigh the same as my pay, and without the stress of running this place! No, Colonel. I'll be in on Monday, for a few minutes, to make my farewells, and then I'll go on to SecNav's office and complete the out-processing.
"And then, sir?"
Chegwidden smiled, albeit briefly, for the first time in days, "Then, I'll book the first available flight to Milan." He saw the beginning of protest in the Marine's expression and held up a hand as a sign for her not to speak. "Colonel, Mac, you'll have this chair for an indefinite period, until the Senate approves the new JAG. You'll need to concentrate all your efforts on trying to pull this office together and returning it to some semblance of efficiency. You do not need me hovering over your shoulder and sucking my teeth, and you especially do not need me in the background. Mac this is a golden opportunity for you to shine, it's a step to a command of your own and to your eagles. I can best help you by disappearing so that it can be seen that whatever you achieve is all your own work."
Mac bit her lip as she considered her CO's words, bitter although they sounded in her ears she was forced to acknowledge the truth in them. And while she could never forgive nor forget that he had abandoned her to the not-so-tender mercies of Sadik Fahd, she could also acknowledge that he was in his somewhat clumsy way attempting to make up for his lapses in judgement during that period.
"And Commander Rabb, sir? What about him?"
Chegwidden sighed, "Since I spoke to him at the airfield, he has completely cut-off all communication with me and as far as I know the rest of this office. I have been unable to speak with him, and messages left on his voice mail or answering machine have gone unanswered." The old man shrugged. "I know that I over-reacted when he returned and that I shouldn't have treated him the way I did, but I had hoped that once he'd vented that he would take a more… balanced view and at least let us start some sort of dialogue, but…" the admiral sighed again. "And what about you Colonel? Has he spoken to you at all Mac?"
Mac gave a shrug of her own, accompanied by a bitter grin, "I left seventeen messages for him to call me. He hasn't replied to any of them…"
"What happened down there, Mac? No… not the stuff that's in the AAR, I've read that; but what happened between the two of you?"
Mac fidgeted uncomfortably, "I did something… something stupid, but Harm misunderstood, and… and things went downhill. Then he crashed the plane and then we both said things we shouldn't have… and, and he's barely spoken to me since we got back. And when we did speak, he… he… seemed to be disgusted with me, and … and indifferent. I asked him for help with the Imes' cases and he turned me down… and I had to threaten him with a subpoena to even get him to testify at her court-martial…" she kept her eyes downcast and fidgeted with her ROTC ring as her voice trailed off in misery.
Chegwidden gazed at her in astonishment. Her description of Rabb's behaviour and attitude towards her just did not tally with his recollection of the fired up officer who had submitted his resignation rather than obey orders not to go to her aid. Orders which he had since acknowledged to himself should never have been given. Just what the hell and the pair of them said and done to each other while they were down there?
"H'mm… so he's ticked with both of us. Do you know if he's kept in touch with Commander Turner or Lieutenants Roberts and Simms?"
"He… uh… sent a gift to Lieutenant Simms for baby Jimmy, but other than that, and as far as I'm aware, no sir."
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Rabb finished taping the stretchers of his bed together and with a grunt hoisted them onto his shoulder and carried them down the few steps from his bedroom to what had once been the living room of the loft apartment off 4th Street North-East and carefully propped them against the wall, alongside the mattress and head board. Dusting his hands off against each other and twisting his shoulders he took a last check-look around the apartment. The furniture stood against the wall to the right of the door and the remainder of his possessions had been packed in the movers' boxes and all that needed to be done now was for the moving crew to arrive and transport his goods and chattels to their new home. The new home, he thought as a smile spread across his face, that he would be sharing with Catherine, Mattie and Elizabeth. And, glancing at his watch he smiled in further satisfaction, he had promised he'd be back at Catherine's apartment by twenty-hundred hours, and now he still had twenty four minutes to make his self-imposed deadline.
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The scent of garlic and basil was heavy in the air as he stepped out of the elevator just along the hallway from Catherine's apartment door, and with a resigned sigh he turned the door handle and walked in on scene replete with domesticity. Catherine sat lengthwise along her couch, a 'Mother and Baby Today' magazine open on her lap while she verbally directed Mattie's efforts at the stove as the teenager prepared dinner for the three of them.
Catherine looked yup as he entered the room and smiled with pleasure at the sight of him as he swiftly crossed the floor towards her, dropping to one knee to place a gentle kiss on her lips, which coincided with an "Ewww!" from the kitchen area as Mattie ostentatiously averted her eyes.
Harm chuckled as he rose to his feet, and hung the garment bag containing his uniform on the hook on the door as he crossed to the kitchen area, where he enveloped Mattie in a hug and dropped a kiss on the crown of her head.
"Is that any way to greet the man of the house?" he demanded in teasing tones.
"Yep, it sure is!" the now furiously blushing teenager stated firmly as she tried to wriggle out of his grasp, "especially when the first thing he does is to make a PDA with the woman of the house!"
"H'mm… let's see… first you object to us showing affection in public… and now we're not allowed to do so in private?" he asked gravely, but with an imp of mischief dancing in his eyes.
Mattie regarded him seriously for a moment or two until she saw the humour lurking in his eyes, "Damn straight!" she replied, "Hey, impressionable teenager here – you could end up scarring me for life!"
"Now, that is a problem," he replied, shooting a wink in Catherine's direction, where she sat, hugely enjoying the by-play between Harm and Mattie. "I guess we'll have to find a solution…." He cocked an eyebrow in Catherine's direction, "Any ideas, sweetheart?"
"Well, we could stop being affectionate, I suppose…" she made a doubtful contribution.
"We could…" he agreed in equally doubtful accents, as he leaned back against the counter while he watched Mattie stir the pungent sauce she was making, "Or we could always make it a rule that as soon as we're both at home, that Mattie goes to her room and stays there… just so she won't suffer any psychological trauma!"
Mattie let the wooden spoon rest in the sauce for a few moments as she cast a withering glance at her tormentors. "Hey, when you tag-team, you're supposed to at least touch each other!" she protested.
"Oh, we're not tag-teaming you, Mattie," Catherine chuckled, "We're ganging up on you!"
"Besides, I thought you didn't like the idea of us touching each other?" Harm asked, "Isn't that what this debate is all about?"
"No! Uh… Yes!" a now furiously blushing Mattie blurted out. "Oh! This is so unfair!" but she was caught between righteous indignation and giggles, "I keep forgetting that you're both sneaky, unprincipled lawyers!"
"True, we are," Harm confessed as he took her in another brief hug, "But we do love you, you know?"
"Yeah, I know," Mattie mumbled into his chest, "You're not so bad either… both of you! But I'll tell you what, though," she said pushing back against his arms so that she could look up at him and pulled a face indicating disgust, "You really need to wash up before dinner!"
"Yeah, you're right," Harm agreed, "Have I got time for a shower?"
"Well the sauce is not far off ready, and the pasta and rolls will only take about ten minutes…"
"In that case, Miss Grace, I'm on it!"
By the time Harm had showered and changed dinner was almost ready and the table had been set. Pausing only to give Catherine a helping hand up from her supine position on the couch, and handing her to her place at the table, Harm dived into the fridge reappearing with three bottles of water, "That sauce smells pretty powerful Mattie, so we might want to drink water with the meal, and we can have something else, maybe iced tea, afterwards…"
Mattie, whose first attempt at a pasta sauce this was, nodded her head in agreement. She had faithfully followed the recipe she had printed off from the internet, but as the aroma of garlic and other herbs had permeated the small apartment she had felt the beginnings of doubt nagging at her. A doubt that her first taste of the sauce did little to allay, as her nose started running and her eyes teared.
"Oh crap! I really screwed it up didn't I?" she whined, her face crimsoning with chagrin.
"Well it is a bit heavy on the garlic," Harm admitted, "but it can be fixed! And within a couple of minutes!"
Leaving the table, he spooned about quarter of the sauce into a bowl and then raided Catherine's store cupboard for a can of tomatoes. Quickly opening the can he added the contents to the sauce and turning to the microwave he gave the bowl a couple of minutes at full power, so that within three minutes he returned to table with a bowl of fresh sauce. "The thing is with cooking Mattie," he explained gently, "Is not how good everything is when all goes well, but whether or not you can rescue a dish when it all gores pear-shaped! Now try this…"
Both of his girls, as he was getting into the habit of referring to them, agreed that the rescued sauce, while not perfect was perfectly edible. Mattie however remained gloomy.
"I don't understand it," she complained, "I followed that recipe just as it was printed, and I so wanted this meal to be perfect!"
"OK, well… it's Friday, so we have the weekend to try and figure out what went…"
"Wrong?" Mattie challenged.
"Well… not wrong… but maybe just a little off-centre," Catherine poured oil on the stormy waters. "And anyway, we really need to talk about something else…"
"Such as?" Mattie demanded.
"Well, we received am e-mail today, from your Guardian Ad Litem," Catherine continued calmly, "She wants to…"
"What's a Guardian Ad thing…?" Mattie asked curiously.
"Ad Litem," Catherine repeated, "it means 'at law'. A Guardian is appointed by the court to make sure that a child's best interests, and in this case that's your best interests…"
"I am not a child!" Mattie declared mutinously.
"Mattie, Catherine and I know that you're a smart, independent minded young woman, but according to the law, you are still a child – even if you are spending too much on coffee!"
"How… how did you know…? No, no I'm not!" a blushing Mattie sputtered in denial.
"Ha! You are so busted!" Harm grinned at her, "I didn't know you were buying coffee until you just confessed it! But, Mats, it's OK. If you're used to drinking coffee, then it's dumb of us," he included Catherine by a gesture, "to try and turn back the clock."
"Damn shyster tricks!" Mattie muttered half under her breath, while the glare she shot at Harm made him thankful that 'if looks could kill' was only a phrase.
Catherine listened to the byplay with increasing impatience, "Can we discuss coffee drinking another time, please?" she asked somewhat acerbically, "This is important, people!"
Harm dropped a slow wink, which was not lost on Catherine, at Mattie, who demurely folded her hands in her lap and turned towards Catherine with an air of interested innocence,
"There, you see, sweetheart," Harm said to Catherine in a soothing tone, "We are now suitably abashed, and all attention!"
"Clowns! The pair of you!" Catherine snorted half-way between annoyance and amusement. "Anyway this Guardian Ad Litem, a Ms Le Moyne, will be coming to pay us a visit on Tuesday evening, for an initial interview, and to make a first assessment on our suitability as legal co-guardians for Mattie. So that means, Mister," she looked pointedly at Harm, that you finish work on time and damned well make sure you're back here in plenty of time!"
"Yes, ma'am!" he replied smartly, "Finish on time and straight back home it is!"
Catherine grinned, "Very well, make it so!"
"You've been watching Master and Commander!" Mattie complained.
"No, I haven't, Catherine denied, "but I have been reading the books the film was – very loosely – based on. All twenty of them!"!
"Twenty books? All on Master and Commander?" Mattie was unsure whether or not to be impressed or appalled. "Are they here?"
"They're already packed, Mattie," Harm told her, indicating the stack of movers' boxes against the end wall of the living room, "but I'm sure Catherine will let you read them once we get settled in Woodford Road!"
"Oh… I dunno… I'm not that interested in the movie, so maybe the books won't interest me that much…"
"Well, you enjoyed Anna Karenina, didn't you? And I'm sure I saw you with your nose in a Jane Austen novel the other day," Catherine remarked.
"Well, yeah, but they're the lit equivalent of a chick flick, while this Master and Commander, it's more of an action adventure thing…"
Harm stood and began gathering the empty plates, why don't you ladies take the lit crit session back to the couch while I do the dishes, and then I'll join you for coffee and ice cream!"
It didn't take long for Harm to police the kitchen and dining areas, refusing Mattie's help, as he said "Those who cook, don't for the clean up!" and he joined his girls on the couch, where he discovered that Catherine had Master and Commander on the DVD player, and was pointing out to Mattie those scenes where the actors were using authentic period British Navy expressions and phrases.
Harm's interest was piqued and he paid close attention to what Catherine was explaining to Mattie.
"How come you know all this stuff?" he asked interestedly as Mattie manipulated the remote control to eject the disc once the film had ended.
"Well, the guy who wrote the books, was a great fan of Jane Austen, and also served in the British Navy during World War Two, so he knows his naval traditions, and he just applied Jane Austen's style of dialogue to hs own books when he sat down and started to write them!" Catherine replied
"Well, yeah, but how do you know all this?"
Catherine despite Mattie's "Ugh!" of protest leaned in and kissed Harm. "Because I read the forewords!" she told him triumphantly.
Later, after Mattie had gone to bed and Catherine was waiting for Harm to finish his evening ablutions and join her in her bed, he remarked, "If it had been Bud at the table with us, he wouldn't have made the connection with Master and Commander!"
"No?" Catherine was curious.
"No, he would have identified 'make it so' with Jean Luc Picard."
"No, you've lost me!" Catherine complained.
"Jean Luc Picard," Harm told her as he slid beneath the comforter, is the Captain of the Star Ship Enterprise!"
"Oh… Star Wars." Catherine replied intelligently, as she wriggled closer to Harm to lay her head on his chest.
"No, not Star Wars," Harm corrected her with a smile, "Star Trek! Bud is just about the most rabid Trekkie you'll ever meet in a naval officer's uniform!" he finished somewhat wistfully.
"You miss them, don't you?" Catherine inquired gently.
"Yeah, I guess I do…"
"So… give them a call, Harm. Don't cut yourself off from your friends …"
"I didn't. He replied flatly, "They cut themselves off from me. Firstly when I was in the brig, and then a second time when I got back from Paraguay. In all those months Catherine, I've had just one call from Sturgis and one call from Bud. OK, I had seventeen calls from Mac, but that was because she needed my help with those Imes' cases, or maybe she thought I could help her keep track of Webb's whereabouts!"
Catherine caught the bitterness in his voice, but it was mingled with regret and decided that she would push no further, well, not tonight anyway. Raising herself on her elbow, she reached up and kissed him gently on the lips, and then settling back down so her ear was just above his heart, she murmured, "Goodnight, Harm", as he reached across and switched off the bedside lamp.
Catherine lay sill listening to the slow steady rhythm of his heartbeat as it lulled her to sleep, while Harm lay awake in the darkness and considered the wisdom in her words. He did miss his friends, but re-establishing contact with them also meant re-establishing contact with Mac. And he wasn't entirely sure that he could do that.
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The following morning Harm was up and out of bed by six-thirty and heading for the footpath along the Chesapeake and Ohio Canal, returning to Catherine's – now their apartment – just short of an hour and a half later having run an estimated fifteen miles. He was sweating and pleasantly tired although somewhat contradictorily invigorated. The run had allowed him to empty his mind of the various questions raised the previous evening, and he quickly showered, dressed and joined Catherine and Mattie at breakfast, where he was able to present a cheerful front and entered fully into discussion of how the weekend should be spent.
Continuing the process of packing was at the top of the agenda, but Harm insisted that they should cease that activity in time for them to change into respectable clothes, and get across to Pimmett Hills to make a family visit to Esther Gale.
"That's all very well, Harm," Catherine interjected, "but Mattie and myself need to get some serious shopping done before it gets too uncomfortable for me. And the weekends are the only time we can do it. I'm too tired by the time I finish work, pay a flying visit to mom and get home, to be dragging us around the shops!"
"Does it need an urgent trip?" Harm asked with furrowed brow.
"Well, yes. Mattie needs a court-day outfit and some other stuff…"
"I could take her in a couple of days, once this place is packed up…" Harm suggested.
Mattie and Catherine exchanged thunderstruck glances. Mattie was appalled and absolutely certain that she would die of embarrassment if Harm accompanied her when she needed bras and panties, but the mental image of an equally embarrassed and probably tongue-tied Harm was just too funny. One glance at Catherine was enough to show the young girl that their thought processes were running in parallel, and both women burst into laughter.
"What's so funny, now?" An aggrieved Harm demanded. He had made the offer in unsuspecting good faith, and it was now evident that that somehow, somewhere along the line that he made a gigantic gaffe, and his self-sacrificing offer – he'd hated the thought of clothes shopping with and for Mattie – was being thrown back in his face.
"That's very sweet of you, Harm," Catherine said as she reached across the table to take his hand in hers, "But I don't think you have the necessary expertise in this field! So, if you don't mind, you can carry on with the packing, while Mattie and I make a dash to the Malls. We'll probably be gone most of the day, but we'll be back by three, so that'll give us plenty of time to get up to the Kresge, OK?"
Harm glowered, for a moment or two, "OK, then," he grudgingly allowed, "But I still don't see what was so funny!"
"I'll explain it to you later, dear," Catherine said teasingly, "Mais, pas devant l'enfant!"
"Huh?" Harm replied eloquently.
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True to her word a tired Catherine returned an excited Mattie home just before three o'clock in the afternoon, to find that Harm had virtually stripped the living room and Mattie's room of all extraneous items which were now packed in securely taped boxes. More than that, as the hour drew near he had been keeping an eye on the street, so that when he saw Catherine's car slide into its allotted parking space he had turned on the burner under the kettle so that as the door opened, he was able to call out cheerfully, "Sit down, you two, The tea's fresh brewed!"
Catherine eased herself into her nest of pillows on the couch while Mattie took up her favourite cross-legged position on the floor. Both were cradling mugs of lemon-grass tea, while Harm, a dish-towel over his shoulder and a flask of rosemary and lavender oil in his hand sat on the couch, and removing Catherine's shoes spread the dish-towel over his lap and poured a drop of oil onto his hands, which he briskly rubbed together for a few minutes in order to warm the oil.
"Oh, Harm, this is just so good!" Catherine sighed as his fingers started to work their magic on her tired and aching feet, her half-forgotten mug of tea threatening to slip from her now loosened grasp, only to be rescued by Mattie and placed out of the way on the coffee table.
"Ooh… I'll give you exactly thirty years to stop it," she breathed, her head lolling back and her eyes closing in ecstasy as the tiredness fled under Harm's skilled ministrations.
"So… should I resign from the navy again, and open that massage parlour, after all?"
"If I ever see your hands on another woman's feet, I swear to God I'll kill you myself!" Catherine mock-threatened him.
"Hey, you can't say that in front of me!" Mattie objected, "You're making me into a material witness!"
"Ah, but we've got this whole female solidarity thing going for us now Mattie!"
"Female solidarity thing?" Harm queried in some trepidation. "Am I going to regret this?"
Two pairs of feminine eyes locked on to each other and as if on an unspoken signal the two women in Harm's life chorused, "Oh, yeah!"