Author's Note: In the last two weeks, I have re-read the entire story to date… Looking for the inspiration to continue.

Alas, I think something sparked.

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Rabb Residence

San Diego, California

17: 13 HRS

A blonde in knee-length navy-colored shorts steps from her vehicle to the curb in front of one of the most frequently visited addresses on her route. Trotting up the walk, she rings the bell. Because the weather is mild, the windows are open, and she doubts anyone is inside the house when she does not hear any of the usual noises coming from its lively occupants. Just to be on the safe side, she lifts the heavy knocker positioned between handsomely carved dual insignia for both the U.S. Navy and Marine Corps. No one responds. She glances at the various stickers affixed to the package she is trying to deliver.

Fragile. Perishable.

She glances at her wristwatch and waits 30 seconds longer. She knocks again. Still no answer.

Sighing, she's just about to relegate the package to the storage bench positioned between the front windows of the house when she hears the unmistakable noise of happy toddlers coming from the back yard. Smiling, she leaves the porch and steps around the side of the house fully expecting to see children at play. What she doesn't expect is to be pelted in the right calf by a stray wiffle ball as she calls out merrily, "FedEx delivery!" and hops to her left in response to the sting of a plastic grounder.

"Oh goodness!" She laughs merrily when A.J. Chegwidden reaches out with lightning- fast reflexes and places one hand against her shoulder and the other against the top of the package she carries to keep both from toppling.

Instantly contrite, Laura apologizes. "Oh gosh, Sandy! I'm sorry. Are you alright?"

Sandy gives her right leg a shake, inspecting it for damage before she announces, "No harm done!"

Harm steps forward to take the package, glances at its label, and then turns to his wife, "It's addressed to Noah, care of you."

Mac raises an eyebrow. "From DC?"

Harm glances at the box again and then nods.

Laura smiles and reaches out to pat her young cousin on the head. "Noah! Aunt Harriett and Uncle Bud sent you a birthday present!"

Noah, who is shoveling sand into a bright red plastic bucket with a small purple shovel glances at his cousin, and then at his parents. Not understanding the significance of what Laura says, the one-year-old smiles, but keeps shoveling.

Mac takes the box wrapped in brown paper from Harm, and holds out her right hand, giving him a moment to search the pocket of his cargo shorts for a pocketknife. When she has it, she says, "Hold on, Sandy. Don't go away just yet."

Stepping onto the back porch, she motions for everyone to follow her, and holds out a hand, saying excitedly to her son, "C'mon, my boy. Let's go see what you got!"

Happy where he is, Noah shakes his head and bangs his shovel against his bucket.

Mac smiles. "You don't want to open a birthday present? There might be a new toy inside."

At this, Noah cocks his head to one side, unaware that he's being filmed courtesy of the cell phone camera in the hands of an approaching friend who lives two doors down.

Stepping up beside Harm, Elizabeth Hawkes says quietly so as not to interrupt her filming, "Keeter and I heard all the happy chatter and decided to walk down and see what's going on."

Harm whispers back as they move toward the porch, "Laura hit the baseball!"

Skates momentarily shifts the camera so that Laura is seen on screen briefly. "Yeah?" She asks excitedly.

Laura laughs happily. "Finally!"

Skates offers her a congratulatory thumbs-up as her husband swoops down and lifts Laura's feet off the ground with the arm not holding their 11-month-old daughter, and cheers, "Good job, runt!"

Giggling, Laura stiffens her knees and braces herself against Keeter's shoulder as she and Ellie are carried up the back porch steps.

Skates redirects the camera just as Mac slices through the tape on the box, and Noah asks his mother with bright hopeful eyes, "Toy?"

Aware that the moment is being recorded, Mac attempts to comb her fingers through her young son's messy hair as she smiles brightly for the camera. "Let's find out."

Folding the brown paper wrapping, she sets it aside, opens a cardboard box, and removes two items; a rectangular gift. wrapped in festive paper decorated with brightly colored balloons, and a small, insulated container that holds several ice packs and one dozen homemade devil's food cupcakes; half of them decorated with tiny seagoing vessels and airplanes, while the other half are coated in camouflage sprinkles. Because the ice packs are still cool to the touch, and the shipping date written on the outside of the insulated container in Harriett's familiar handwriting is only two days past, Mac hands the gift-wrapped package to her son, and while he's busy inspecting it, she hands a single cupcake and an ice pack to their good- natured delivery driver.

"Yum!" Sandy smiles and eagerly accepts the cupcake, but squints at the ice pack.

"For your leg." Mac points as she talks. "That might bruise."

"Pbbt." Sandy tosses the ice pack back to her. "I've got two of my own at home. Trust me, I've been wiffled before. I'll live, I promise. Thanks for the treat. See you next time." She walks away waving and calling over her shoulder, "Happy birthday, Noah!"

On the back porch step, Noah squints at his gift, turning the carefully wrapped box this way and that briefly before setting it aside and turning around intent on crawling backward down the steps to return to the warm sand and he's waiting bucket.

Several of the adults present smile in response to the toddler's lack of understanding, and Harm catches the boy around the middle before he reaches the bottom step and carries him back up again.

Noah grunts in disapproval and reaches over his father's shoulder, pointing at his bucket.

Harm settles on the top step. Mac passes him the gift, and while he's reaching for it, Noah tries to escape. Grinning, Harm reaches out, grabs a fistful of the boy's T-shirt and hauls him back into his lap. "Hey pal, not so fast!" He laughs. "You're supposed to open your present, so you can see what's inside."

Noah shakes his head emphatically.

Harm grimaces comically. "Okay, wait, hold on a second. I'll show you!" Removing one piece of tape, he lifts one flap of folded wrapping paper so that his son can peek inside. "See, look! What's in there, Noah?"

Noah peaks under the paper, and then looks at Harm, obviously confused. Finding another piece of tape, he tries to peel it away with his small uncoordinated hands, until his father deliberately creates a small tear in the paper for him, and whispers encouragement. "Just rip it."

Noah scowls.

Harm laughs and pats his son's head. "It's okay buddy, I promise. Just rip it!"

Keeter grouses comically. "Oh, for crying out loud! Have the two of you never given the boy a gift before?"

Mac smirks. "Jack, be patient. It's a new experience. Give him a second to figure it out."

"What's to figure out? It's a gift. He's supposed to tear into it. Here, look champ, I'll show you."

Keeter steps forward intent on helping the kid shred wrapping paper, but Noah smacks his hand and announces loudly, "My!"

Keeter draws back his hand, doubly surprised when Noah's grandmother smacks him on the back of the head in the same moment. "You leave the boy alone. It's his birthday present. You let him open it any way he wants to."

"I think he's genetically predisposed to suspect booby traps." Harm points as he talks. "Both his mother and his cousin are suspicious of brightly wrapped packages bearing their names."

Mac and Laura protest in harmony with one another. "For a reason!" and "He's just too little to understand yet."

Noah waits for the big people to stop fussing at each other and then looks at his gift again before tipping his head back to peer up at his father who pantomimes ripping the package open.

Finally getting the idea, he grabs at paper with his clumsy little hands while Harm holds the gift steady for him. After several seconds of excited fumbling, Noah lets go of paper, letting it tumble down the stairs, carried away by the ocean breeze.

When Harm turns the box right side up so that Noah can peer through the box's clear plastic window at a small toy jeep with big fat tires accompanied by a large action figure wearing woodland fatigues and boots, he looks to his father again.

"My?"

Harm nods. "It's all yours. Happy birthday."

Noah claps his small hands happily.

Harm points to the cell phone Skates is still using to record the moment. "Smile for the camera. Tell Uncle Bud and Aunt Harriett thank you!"

Noah stops trying to open the box and squints at his dad, who points again. "Say, thank you."

Noah looks at Skates, hugs the box to his chest and says, "Bir day!"

Harm hugs him. "Close enough, buddy!" and Laura laughs. "See, I knew I could get him to say it!"

Mac removes the paper wrapping from a cupcake and hands it to her son. "Here, my boy. Cake!"

Noah reaches out for the chocolate treat piled high with several inches of frosting. He's an instant away from biting into it when he stops. Turning slightly in Harm's lap, he offers the first bite to his dad, and promptly smears frosting all over Harm's face.

Laughter rises on the evening breeze as Noah's family revels in the boy's joy.

Grabbing a beach towel from the back porch railing, Mac attempts to wipe the sugary mess from our husband's face, but when she can't stop laughing, he throws an arm around her, pulls her close, and kisses her.

Hours later, when the sugar highs have finally worn off, all four children are asleep, and the house is quiet, Mac turns over in bed and reaches for him. Snuggling close, she sighs happily.

"Good day?"

"Best birthday ever, Flyboy. Better than all mine put together!"

"Mine too, Sarah." He turns out the bedside lamp, runs his fingers through her hair, and drinks in the scent of her.