Chapter Forty:
No Thanks Left to Give
WEEK 25 PART-TWO
NOVEMBER 21ST, 2001
0330 EST
APARTMENT OF SARAH MACKENZIE
GEORGETOWN
Harm started his Lexus, instantly cranking the heat up to the highest it would go. It was a cold and foggy morning; Harm was able to see his breath while he was loading the car up. Mac brought a quilt along for the ride, and was almost completely buried under it in the passenger seat.
"What? Are you cold or something?" Harm teased as he pulled out onto the street.
Mac opened her eyes just so she could roll them. She snuggled deeper underneath the quilt. "A little," she murmured, stifling a yawn.
"Do you want some music?"
"I'm trying to sleep."
"Mac, if I don't have music, I'll be asleep."
Mac grumbled, twisting to try and get in a more comfortable position. She soon gave up, realizing that, if she could barely find a comfortable position in her own bed anymore, she wouldn't have any better luck with a car seat.
"Fine," she said. "Just keep the volume down low."
"Will do, Colonel."
Mac smirked. "Thank you, Commander."
The first portion of the drive was spent in silence, but it was a contented silence. Harm listened to the radio, occasionally humming or softly singing along to the music. More often than not, he found himself looking over at Mac, buried under her comforter so that only her head was visible.
"Stop staring at me," Mac finally murmured without opening her eyes. Harm jumped.
"I wasn't staring."
Mac smirked, opening her eyes. "Yes you were," she sat up, the quilt falling into her red, long sleeved shirt she was wearing stretched across her bump as Mac turned to face forward.
"Did the music keep you up?" Harm asked, turning down the dial on the radio. The Eagles were playing, and Harm was more than willing to explain to Mac the significance behind "Hotel California" if she was up to it.
"No, your son did," Mac yawned, rubbing her bump.
"You mean, our child did," Harm corrected, turning the radio back up so he could actually hear it.
"Harm-"
"I know you had that dream, but you know it could just be a dream, right?"
"Yeah," Mac nodded, wincing as she tried to roll an ache out of her shoulder. "But I have a good track record for my dreams being accurate."
"Whatever you say, Ninja Girl," Harm said just as the beginning chords of "Hotel California" began to play.
"Are you doubting me?" Mac asked, raising her eyebrows.
"No," Harm shrugged innocently. "I'm just keeping an open mind."
Mac rolled her eyes. Looking down at the radio, she wrinkled her nose. "Can we put on something else?"
Harm's eyes widened. "But Mac, this is The Eagles!"
"Harm, I'm never gonna understand 'Hotel California.' You may as well face the facts."
0545 EST
EN ROUTE TO BELLVILLE, PA
OUTSIDE OF HARRISBURG, PA
"Yeah...alright...Well we're about an hour away so...Yeah...That sounds good...See you a little bit…Bye, Mom-Love you too."
Harm hung up the phone and looked over at Mac. She had had her head propped up by her hand and was looking out the window at a pasture of cows. Feeling Harm's eyes on her, she looked up. She smiled a little sheepishly.
"Cows," she commented, lightly pressing her finger against the glass.
"Yeah, there are a lot of those around here," Harm replied with a smirk.
"Think I could fit in with them?" Mac looked down at her bump.
Harm shrugged. "Probably not until the third trimester."
Mac gasped and Harm chuckled. She reached out and swatted him on the arm. "You're funny," she turned away from the window. "What did your mom have to say?"
"Oh, her and Frank made breakfast for us so we won't have to stop anywhere."
Trish and Frank had flown out over the weekend. They had been on the farm since Monday. They'd gotten the groceries, including everything they would need for Thanksgiving, giving Harm and Mac one less thing to worry about. Well, Harm was the only one really worried about cooking-Mac knew better than to touch the kitchen, even on Thanksgiving, a holiday where all hands were supposed-to be on deck.
"That's good," she said. As if on cue, her stomach rumbled. "Are you sure you don't want to just let me out here to graze for a little bit?"
"No. You can do that at the farm."
"You're fucking hilarious, has anyone ever told you that?"
"You left the door open for that one, Mac."
0700 EST
RABB FAMILY FARM
BELLVILLE, PA
Mac had dozed off again by the time they reached the farm. He'd turned off the main road and onto a dirt driveway marked by a red mailbox with "Rabb" painted on it in faded black letters. The driveway wove up a small incline and the Rabb family farm slowly came into view. It was a two-story white colonial with a wrap-around porch on the bottom floor. Behind the house, a small pathway led to a barn in the distance. Trish and Frank's rental car was parked in front of the house.
Harm hit the brakes at the top of the hill, pausing to admire the view. I missed this, he thought. He looked over at Mac, who was probably his favorite part of that view.
It had been years since he'd been there. He'd meant to come back a lot sooner, but life just got in the way, as life tended to do. He'd spent a few days up here after Diane was murdered and took another trip after going to Russia, when he finally found out the fate of his father. Both of the trips had been to clear his head, and to grieve.
This trip was different, though. This trip was about savoring, and rekindling. Harm planned on savoring what he had with Mac, especially since this would likely be the last trip they'd take together before the baby came. As far as rekindling went, Mac didn't even know this, but Harm was hoping to rekindle the mother-son relationship he and Trish used to have.
Noticing the car had stopped, Mac opened her eyes. She yawned and blinked a few times, looking at the farm.
"It's beautiful," she said.
"I know."
Mac's fatigue ended up outweighing her hunger, so she opted to take a nap before eating breakfast. After showing her to the room that had always been unofficially-officially claimed as Harm's since as long as he could remember, Harm headed down to the kitchen. Trish and Frank were there, both in their pajamas and robes.
"Did Mac get settled?" Trish asked, taking a sip of her coffee.
"Yeah," Harm said, his answer punctuated with a yawn.
"Was she comfortable enough? The bed in your room was always a little too firm, at least by my standards."
Harm shrugged, pulling out a free chair and sitting down. "She thought it was fine," he yawned again. Now that the sun was fully risen, the kitchen was bathed in light. There was a huge window, right above the sink, that stretched from the counter all the way to the ceiling. Unfortunately for Harm, he was sitting right right across from the window. The lovely morning sun was proving to be quite blinding, making him wish he'd stayed holed up in the bedroom with Mac. Suddenly, his tiredness was hitting him all at once.
Trish instantly picked up on her son's mood. "Are you sure you don't want to catch up on some sleep?" she asked.
"I'm fine," Harm insisted. "I'll just have some coffee."
"Do you and Mac have any plans for the day?" Frank asked as he passed Harm the pot of coffee.
"Well, we have a grand tour scheduled after Mac finishes her nap. Other than that, I think we're just going to relax."
"That's good," Frank said. "You two probably need it."
"Especially after that car ride," Trish agreed. "I'll never forget when I was pregnant with you and your father drove us up to Portland for a weekend trip. I swear I spent half of that weekend taking naps."
Harm smirked. "What are you guys going to do?"
"You remember that bedroom at the end of the hall? The one that no one really used, so I turned it into a painting room?" Trish asked. Harm nodded.
"I found some blank canvases in there yesterday and some paint that hasn't dried out. I think I'm going to paint some of the scenery outside. The trees look absolutely gorgeous."
"And I'll be watching the paint dry," Frank said. All three of them laughed.
1015 EST
RABB FAMILY FARM
BELLVILLE, PA
Mac turned over and snuggled deeper into the flannel sheets. The mattress was a little too firm for her liking, but at least it was a bed, so she couldn't complain. Her eyes slowly opened and she took in her new surroundings. It was so strange to finally be in a place she had heard so many stories about.
Growing up, Harm had spent every winter and spring break here. He'd also spent a couple summers here as well, with Trish, Frank, and his grandmother. Harm would tell her stories, usually while they were up late at one of their working dinners, about all the things he used to do during those times. Mac, not having many good childhood memories, had secretly relished hearing those stories, which gave her a chance to live vicariously through someone who'd had a better childhood than she did.
The room didn't look exactly like she thought it would, but she liked the real-life version better than the one she'd pictured in her head. The true version reminded her more of Harm.
She sat up, feeling a little kick from the baby. Mac smirked, You're going to be a morning person like your father, aren't you? she thought as she climbed out of bed. As nosy as she knew it was, she wanted to explore the room.
In the corner of the room, there was a bookshelf with a collection of dust covered books on it. Mac didn't want to crouch down out of fear that she wouldn't be able to get up, so she settled for checking out the books that were stacked on top.
The first book Mac came across was a Physics textbook. When she moved it to see what was underneath, a yellowed piece of paper fluttered out. Thankfully Mac was able to catch it before it hit the ground. It was a physics test-Harm's physics test. Right at the top of the page there was a faded red 'F' with a circle around it, which Mac would have to remember to rub in Harm's face later - she'd aced physics.
Something else caught Mac's eye. On the margin, in purple swirling letters, there was a note that read, "Harm, I can tutor you if you want-Susan" followed by a phone number with a California area code.
"Are you snooping?"
Mac looked up from Susan's note. Harm was watching her from the bedroom doorway with amusement.
"Who's Susan?" Mac asked, holding up the page.
Harm's brow furrowed. "What?" he walked in, taking the paper from Mac and reading it. Mac had to bite her lip to keep from laughing when she saw a blush creep up to Harm's cheeks. "Oh," he said, gently folding the note in half. "She was a girl in my class. She uh, did gymnastics."
"Oh really? Should I give her a call? What was that number again?" Mac reached for the paper, but Harm instantly jerked it out of her reach.
"No. Not unless you want to talk to her parents," Harm said. "She's married now, with three kids. She's no longer a threat to you, I promise."
Mac snorted. "Good to know," she turned back to the bookshelf. "Let's see... what else do we have here…" she picked up a few more books, looking at them. "Library books? That you never returned? Not exactly a stellar student, eh Sailor?"
Harm shrugged with a grin. "I think I turned out okay."
Many times, when he came to the farm on school breaks, he would take his school work and books with him, only to conveniently forget them and leave them at the farm when he went back to La Jolla at the break's end.
Now determined to tease Harm as much as she possibly could, Mac looked around the room for some more fuel to add to her fire. She spotted a picture on the desk. Picking it up, she became face-to-face with a gangly, pre-teen Harm holding a baseball bat.
"I forgot you played baseball," she said, holding up the picture for Harm to see.
"Yep," Harm nodded. "In junior high and in high school."
Mac feigned a sigh. "You know I always liked the football players better."
"You did?"
"Uh-huh."
"I wanted to play football, but my mom was worried I'd get too much brain damage," Harm explained.
"More brian damage than you already have, you mean?" Mac asked. Harm laughed.
"Yeah, something like that," he said, wrapping his arms around Mac from behind and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Just think, if I had been a football player, you might've never gotten to meet your sailor."
"Sounds like a tragedy."
"You're telling me."
For the most part, the first day at the Rabb farm proved to be a very relaxing one. Trish painted, and Frank finally tackled the book of Sudoku he'd been meaning to get to for the past six months. Mac was on the sofa by the fireplace, reading a book she'd been trying to finish for the past year. The only person who couldn't seem to sit still was Harm.
Mac watched him pace his first three laps around the house without saying anything. However, when he passed by the sofa for the fourth time, Mac felt inclined to ask, "Hon, what are you doing?"
Harm paused. After thinking for a few seconds, he shrugged. "I don't really know."
"I think you need to relax," Mac told him, "This is supposed to be a vacation. You remember what those are, right?"
"Yeah. I-" Harm paused, his gaze suddenly cutting to the porch, where Trish was painting. "I'll be right back."
"Oh...okay," Mac watched him go with mild confusion. She heard him ask Trish something, and he walked back in a few seconds later. Instead of stopping at the sofa, he walked past Mac and headed for the stairs. She started to ask him what he was doing, but he was gone before she could get any words out. Mac went back to reading, miffed by her boyfriend's actions. It wasn't until she heard him walk back downstairs that she looked up.
Harm was standing in front of her. In his hand was a pad of paper and a pencil. "Do you mind if I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the sofa.
Mac shook her head. "No," she drew her knees closer up to her chest and moved her blanket to make more room. Harm sat down and began to flip through the pages on the pad of paper.
"What are you doing?" Mac asked again.
"You'll see," was Harm's response, which only made Mac more curious.
As sneakily as she could manage, Mac sat up, craning her neck to try and see what was on the pad. However, it was hard to be sneaky while being almost seven months pregnant, so Harm instantly noticed.
"Don't peek," he said in an almost petulant manner, drawing the pad close to his chest.
"I wasn't peeking."
"Yes you were."
Mac rolled her eyes, laying back down. "I just wanted to see what you were doing."
"You'll see in a little bit. Patience is a virtue, Marine," Harm said, chuckling when Mac stuck her tongue out at him and held her book right in front of her face so he couldn't see her.
So Mac was patient. She sat there reading for almost thirty minutes until her book got to an unbearably sluggish portion of its plot. It was then that Mac decided to make her second attempt at snooping. She got up, fully aware that Harm was watching her, and tiptoed around the sofa.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Mac placed an over exaggerated kiss on Harm's cheek, with an audible 'Mwah' and everything. "What are you doing?" she asked, looking down at the pad of paper, which Harm once again pressed against his chest before she could catch a glimpse of anything.
Harm rolled his eyes. "You just won't quit, will you?"
"You know I won't."
He sighed and lifted the pad of paper from his chest. "Here," he said.
Mac wasn't really sure what she was expecting. She figured Harm was drawing something, but she wasn't sure what. She'd seen Harm draw before, but he never mentioned it, and Mac had never been compelled to ask. Mostly it was just doodles on napkins while they talked during working dinners or sketches in the margins of papers during staff meetings. It was always small stuff, stuff that could be easily erased. Impermanent.
This drawing however, went beyond just doodles from boredom. It was a sketch of the stone fireplace they were sitting across from-a stunningly realistic sketch of the fireplace. Mac looked at in awe, completely taken aback by the skillful line work and shading. Harm looked down with a slight blush, which Mac didn't notice.
"Harm-" she started, but stopped herself, not quite sure what to say. "Harm this is-this is amazing."
He blushed harder. "Come on, Mac," he said. "You knew I could draw."
Mac slowly shook her head. "I knew you could draw, but I didn't know you could draw."
"It's not even that good-"
"Yes it is!"
Trish walked in then, holding a jar of paint brushes that needed to be washed. She stopped, looking at Harm and Mac. "I guess you finally found out the one thing that can get Harm to stand still," she said to Mac as she walked into the kitchen.
Mac looked down to see Harm once again had the paper pad pressed up against his chest. Frowning, she looked back up. "Yeah," she responded. "I guess I did."
"Don't tell me Harm never told you he could draw."
"It's not something I really do anymore, Mom," Harm piped up, clearing his throat. Mac noticed there was an edge to his voice, which confused her. Harm wasn't one to get defensive about trivial things, and drawing wasn't exactly a sensitive topic.
But Mac also knew things with Harm were rarely exactly how they seemed; you never knew the full story on the first go around with him. Her gut feeling told her that there was more to this than what Harm was letting on. There always was.
Trish emerged from the kitchen. "Maybe it's something you should start doing again."
"I'll think about it," Harm replied.
1930 EST
RABB FAMILY FARM
BELLVILLE, PA
After witnessing the interaction between Harm and Trish over the fireplace drawing, Mac knew it was only a matter of time before Harm's long fuse and Trish's even longer fuse ran out. She spent the rest of the day walking on pins and needles, and this time it wasn't because her feet were swollen.
If Frank had picked up on the tension-which Mac was positive he had because, while it was subtle, it was definitely there-he did a better job at hiding it than Mac. Perhaps he was used to it, perhaps it was normal. After all, Frank was more familiar with Trish and Harm's mother-son dynamic than Mac was. However, despite her limited firsthand knowledge, Mac had a hard time believing there was any bad blood between Harm and Trish.
She thought this until dinner. Then things became clearer. A lot clearer.
"Isn't it so exciting to think that you can bring the baby up here next year?" Trish asked. "Maybe we could make this a tradition. Have you two thought about that at all?"
Mac shook her head. "No we haven't, but that sounds like a great idea," she looked over at Harm, who hadn't been saying much. "What do you think, Harm?"
"Sure. That sounds good."
"We could also take them to Frank's home in the Bahamas for the summer."
Frank nodded. "That would be nice."
"Mom, the kid's not even born yet, don't you think it's a little early to start planning their first international trip?" Harm asked. The question seemed innocuous enough, but something about it piqued Mac's concern.
If Trish took any offense to it, it didn't register on her face. However, she did take Harm's cue to change the subject. "Oh, Mac, I have the most interesting thing to tell you. I think you'll find it hilarious."
Mac took a sip of her water. "What is it?"
"I actually had the name 'Sarah' picked out for Harm if he was a girl," Tirsh said. Both Harm and Mac's eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Really?" Mac turned to look at Harm. "Did you know that?" she asked him.
Harm shook his head and gave a genuine smile, the first since they'd sat down. "No," he looked at Mac, batting his eyelashes. "Do you think I look like a Sarah?"
Mac snorted and rolled her eyes. "I think you look like a Harmon."
Frank chuckled, sitting his fork down. Harm and Trish had prepared (while Mac and Frank watched) roasted chicken for dinner and it had proved to be a hit with everyone. "When are you due, Mac?"
Mac looked down at her bump. "My doctor says March 10th."
"Really?" Trish's eyebrows raised slightly. "Wouldn't it be something if the baby was born on March 1st?"
"What's March 1st?" Mac asked, looking first at Harm, and then at Trish.
"My dad's birthday," Harm answered.
"Oh," Mac paused for a moment. Of all the things Harm had told her about his father, his birthday hadn't been one of those things. "I hope it's March 1st," she finally said. "It already feels like I've been pregnant for a year."
Trish laughed. "I wouldn't be too optimistic. Harm was two weeks overdue."
Mac paled and Harm blushed, looking down at his plate. "Let's hope the baby has your sense of timing," he said.
"It's a boy, so I wouldn't count on it," Mac replied.
Trish and Frank exchanged glances. "Harm, you didn't tell me you two found out the gender."
"We didn't," he said. "Mac just has a feeling."
"The right feeling," Mac immediately corrected.
"It's still going to be a surprise," Harm told Trish and Frank. Mac wanted to protest, but that was outweighed by her desire to have Trish and Frank not think she was crazy.
"Are your parents excited to become grandparents, Mac?" Trish asked, and a hush fell over the table. Mac balked a little, as she usually did when someone who didn't know the full extent of Mac's family life. This hadn't been the first time something like this had happened, so Mac already had some responses prepared.
However, before Mac could say, "Oh, my parents aren't really in the picture." Harm decided to answer for her.
"Mom," he snapped. Mac's whirled around to stare at Harm in shock, and Trish looked stricken, as if Harm had hit her. Frank frowned, looking between Harm and Trish as if he was trying to find some way to intervene.
"Harm!" Mac glared at him. "What are you doing?"
"Mac-"
"Don't snap at her! She didn't know," Mac turned to face Trish. "I'm so sorry. My parents aren't in the picture."
Trish nodded slowly, clearing her throat and looking down at her plate. "Oh well, that's alright," she said softly. "I didn't know. I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked. "
Mac shook her head. "No, you're fine," she gave Harm an icy glance. "I don't mind."
Dinner ended a lot quieter than it began, with Frank silently voluntarily to do the dishes. Trish, Harm, and Mac all good ready for bed, also in silence. It was a little early by their normal standards to call it a night, but the mood had been snuffed out by Harm's outburst.
The bed in Harm's room was only a full size, and Mac didn't want to spend the whole night bumping elbows with Harm, especially after what happened over dinner. So they ended up sleeping in another room, one at the end of the hall with a king-sized four poster.
It was also a lot softer, which Mac appreciated, but she wasn't interested in sleeping right away. After changing into her pajamas, a matching pink top and pants set Harm had surprised her with as an early Christmas present, Mac didn't join Harm in bed.
"Where are you going?" Harm asked from the bed. The sketch pad was sitting on the bedside table, but Harm hadn't touched it since the fireplace sketch he'd done that afternoon.
Mac stopped in the doorway. "I'm just going to get a glass of water. I'll be back in a little bit."
"Alright."
Their gaze lingered on each other for a few moments before Mac gave a small smile and headed to the stairs. Harm was clearly embarrassed by his outburst over dinner, which was the one thing that kept Mac from tearing into him full throttle. She sensed it wasn't anger that triggered him snapping but...possibly sadness? Or guilt? Mac wasn't too sure.
She was sure that she didn't need a glass of water, though - that wasn't the reason for her heading back downstairs. As she was getting ready for bed, Mac noticed the light in the living room was still on. She hoped that Trish was still up, and preferably alone, so they could talk.
Luck was in Mac's corner that night. Trish was up, and she was alone, painting in the soft glow of the living room. She'd set up an easel right in the front of the fireplace. She was working on the painting she'd started that morning, a landscape of the rolling hills in the field across from the farm.
Before Mac could announce herself, she took a small step forward and a floorboard creaked. Trish jumped, whirling around, paintbrush still in hand. "Mac! You scared me." she exclaimed, quickly lowering her voice. "I didn't hear you come down the stairs."
"I'm sorry," Mac sat down on the sofa. "I just thought-well, uh-could you and I talk?"
Mac always felt awkward when talking to other people's mothers. Even if they didn't know about Mac's situation with her own mother, Mac always got the feeling they took pity on her. Being around mothers, especially a good mother like Trish, made Mac feel like that little lost girl who came back home from a sleepover the day after turning fifteen to find her mother had flown the coop.
As she sat at the sofa across from Trish, Mac had to remind herself that she wasn't a fifteen-year-old who had just been abandoned by her mother. She was a thirty-four-year-old who was about to become a mother herself, talking to her boyfriend's mother about why he was acting the way he was.
"Sure," Trish smiled warmly, in a way that made Mac think, Wow, I wonder what it's like to have a good mother.
"This is about Harm, isn't it?"
Mac smiled. "You're good," she said, trying to hide the fact she was picking at her cuticles. She hated talking to moms. "I just wanted to apologize-"
Trish held up her hand. "Don't apologize for him, Mac. He's a grown man."
"I know, I know," Mac nodded. "but he shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I figured someone should apologize."
The smile on Trish's face was betrayed by the pained look in her eyes. It made Mac's stomach twist, and for once she was feeling pity for a mother instead of having a mother feel pity for her.
"Well," Trish sat her paintbrush down and wiped her hands off on her apron. "Thank you for that, Mac."
"Do you mind…" Mac tried to find the right way to phrase her question. "I don't wanna overstep, but-"
"You wanna know what's happened between Harm and me?" Trish finished. The question sounded a lot more intrusive when posed by someone else, and Mac suddenly felt like the nosiest person on the planet. She decided to do something a marine never did-retreat.
"Well umm, yes, but it's perfectly fine if you don't want to tell me," Mac spoke quickly, "I get it's really none of my business, I was just...concerned. That's all. If it makes you feel better, my mom walked out on me when I was fifteen and never came back, so I don't have a good relationship with her either. Not saying you and Harm don't have a good relationship, but-"
"It's okay, Mac. I understand," Trish said. She sighed and looked over her shoulder at the painting. "Can I ask you something first?"
"Sure."
"What do you do, Sarah?"
Mac blinked. "I'm...I'm a lawyer?...For JAG?"
Trish chuckled. "No, silly. I mean, what do you like to do?"
"I like lawyering," Mac shrugged, knowing what a pitiful answer it was.
"That's all?" Trish gave her a dry glance. "No hobbies? None at all?"
"I like dinosaur bones."
Trish raised her eyebrows, and Mac laughed. That was the general reaction she got when telling people she dappled in paleontology. Tirsh's reaction wasn't the worst reaction she'd gotten.
"Really?"
Mac nodded. "I collect fossils. When I was nineteen I actually spent a month out at Red Rock Mesa in Arizona looking for them with my uncle."
I was also drying out, but I don't want you to know that about me yet.
"That sounds lovely," Trish said.
"Oh, it was great," Mac peered over Trish's shoulder at the painting. "I guess your hobby is painting?"
Trish smiled. "It's that obvious isn't it?" She followed Mac's gaze to the painting. "I actually used to teach art before I started running my gallery."
"Do you miss it?" Mac asked suddenly, before she could stop herself.
"What makes you say that?"
"I don't know," Mac shrugged ."I feel like looking at art all day without doing it would make you miss it."
"Do you miss hunting for fossils with your uncle in the desert?"
"Sometimes," Mac answered.
"I still have time to do art. Obviously," Trish said, gesturing over her shoulder at the painting. "But I do miss teaching it."
"You're very good," Mac commented. She genuinely meant it, and wasn't just saying it as an addition to their small talk. "I see where Harm gets it from."
Trish's smile didn't quite waver, but it definitely twitched. "Yes," she said. "It's actually kind of ironic, if you think about it. Harm's known for being a pilot, but he was drawing before he was flying."
Mac smiled. She was still trying to wrap her head around Harm and his secret talent. She couldn't believe that she'd known him for six years and she merely thought he just liked to doodle when he was bored.
I guess this is proof that mother knows best.
"There's more art upstairs, if you would like to take a look," Trish said.
"Really?"
"I don't mind showing you-if you're not too tired, of course. I don't want to keep you up."
Mac shook her head. "I'm used to working ten hour shifts at JAG, so I think I'll be fine. I'm always tired anyway, regardless of when I go to bed."
"Well then," Trish stood up. "What are we waiting for? Let's go."
I had this chapter ready-to-go when I posted the other two, but I decided to wait a few days to upload this one, especially since this one is kind of a long one. Usually I don't like for my chapters to be over 5,000 words and usually if they are longer than that, I break them up into two parts. But for the sake of pacing, because this story is already longer than I ever thought it would be, I decided to abandon that rule. But it means more content for you guys without as much of a wait, not to mention less editing work for me, so I think this is a win-win situation.
The headcanon of Harm enjoying drawing is something that came from headcanon of Trish being an artist. I figured that she couldn't own an art gallery without either being an artist herself or enjoying art, so it just made sense in my head. And I figured since Harm got his love of flying from his father, he needed to get something from his mother.
Also, that scene between Trish and Mac at the end was one of my favorites to write. One scene that I didn't enjoy writing was Harm being a complete ass to his mom, but...parent/child relationships are fickle, I suppose.
Thank you for reading!
-Harper