Author's Note: Some of you offered very well thought out suggestions regarding my question about birds. I thank you for those. They were delightful to read. Particularly, the recommendations of Viggo, JAG'ed Bones in the Caskett, and Scousedancer. In the end, I decided to go with leaves and the wind rather than birds, but I suspect at least one or two of you may be avid bird watchers. Thanks for the insight.

Monday, August 31, 2009

Rabb Residence

San Diego, California

18:14 Hours

Harm and Mac are on their knees in the master bathroom watching their two youngest children squabble over toys in the bathtub.

Harm laughs as he wrings out a washcloth and drapes it over the side of the tub. "Son, what are you doing?"

Busy with Shannon, Mac smiles and declares, "Well, gee Dad, isn't it obvious. He's eating a dinosaur."

"What? You didn't get enough to eat at dinner? You have to eat the dinosaur too?

With his wet hair sticking straight up off his head; porcupine-style, Noah squeals and splashes happily as the rubber bathtub toy squeaks in his mouth.

Shannon pushes away the soft sponge that Mac is attempting to wash her face with and reaches out to grab the tail of the toy that is hanging from her brother's mouth. "No!"

Squinting slightly, Harm guesses, "No? As in no, don't eat the dinosaur or no, as in don't wash my face?"

Mac shrugs. "Could be either one. Could be neither. I'm convinced she thinks his name is No."

Harm raises an eyebrow and talks himself through it even as he nods. "No… Noah… And we certainly tell him no often enough. They both hear us say that multiple times a day."

Stunned to find himself relieved of dinosaur, Noah makes a cranky rude noise and takes his toy away from his sister, whose faces immediately turns bright red. When she begins to wail loudly, Noah puts the silly-looking T. Rex back in his mouth and quickly hands her a toy schooner and a rubber duck.

Shannon vehemently tosses both toys out onto the floor, grabs the side of the tub and stands up, reaching out for Mac to take her away from Noah and all his nonsense.

Mac rises to her feet and reaches for a towel before carefully lifting the girl. "You're okay. It's your own fault. You took the toy away from him first, he only took it back."

"Noooo!" The unhappy baby girl tucks herself into Mac's embrace.

"I know, I know. Somebody's sleepy and doesn't feel like sharing. There's a whole bathtub full of toys and you just have to have the only one that is in your brother's mouth. Come on. Let's get you dry and into some warm P J's. You wanna go night-night with Ellie?"

Moving slowly on the tile floor, Mac still manages to find a wet spot and nearly goes down with Shannon in her arms. Panic rises and dies in her throat the same instant that she feels Harm's strong arms wind their way around her from behind and she knows they're safe.

For a second, he holds them close, relieved that he was quick enough. Breathing into his wife's hair, he whispers, "You okay?"

Mac sighs with relief as she nods against his shoulder. "That was close."

Aware that he's turned his back on their son in a bathtub full of water, he queries "Got your sea legs back yet?"

Mac nods again and cuddles their daughter. Pushing gently away from him, she takes exaggerated care as she steps from the room. No sooner than she is clear of the slick tile, she turns back and pokes her head into the room again when Harm calls out, "Noah, No!"

Harm grabs for the confused boy, and assures his mother, "He's okay. I've got him."

Wrapping his naked body in a towel, Harm quickly lifts his son from the tub and replaces the lavender colored lady's shaving razor clenched in his chubby fist with the toy dinosaur. Talking to Mac, as he pulls the plug on the bathtub drain, he says, "Sorry, I didn't think he could reach that shelf."

Mac sighs. "He couldn't… Last week."

Harm smiles at the boy. "Come on, pal. Bath time is over! Mama and Daddy are tired. You've worn us out!" Talking to Mac again, he adds, "I think it's time to Noah-proof the bathrooms in this house."

Mac hums in agreement, but then sounds disappointed when she asks, "Tonight?"

Joining her in their bedroom, Harm caresses her cheek and offers a quick, but sweet kiss before he whispers, "No, Ninja Girl. Not tonight. Maybe we can put it off until this weekend as long as you don't turn your back on him… And hide all the razors and such."

"Harm, I know we have reservations. I know I asked for them, and I know you worked really hard to get them. Will you be mad if I tell you that I'm too tired to bother getting all dressed up to go out."

"Nah, change into some dry clothes and we can snuggle on the back porch as soon as we rid this house of short people."

"That's the same thing we did last year. Following a walk on the beach."

Harm smiles and shrugs. "Worked pretty well, didn't it?"

"Where did the time go, Flyboy? It doesn't feel like it's been two years. Does it?"

"Depends on what time of day you ask me?" Harm runs his fingers through his hair.

"Harm! Be serious!"

He laughs. "I am serious, Sarah. We spend the first 15 months trying to get the babies. Now we've got them. So, we've spent the last ten chasing them. You're not the only one too tired to go out, but…" He brushes the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip and whispers, "I wouldn't trade a second of it."

She wraps her arms around him and hugs him tightly until the two children they hold began to squirm uncomfortably, and Laura calls out from the living room, "Uh, guys…" leaving an unspoken question hanging in the air.

Mac kisses him quickly and hands Shannon over. "You dress them, I'll see what Laura needs?" She steps away quickly, mildly concerned about the uncertainty she heard in Laura's voice. A second later she finds the girl standing at the window beside the front door. "What's up, baby?"

Laura points out the window. "Why are Grandma and Grandpa here? I thought they were supposed to be gone for two more weeks. Is something wrong?"

Just to verify that she heard correctly, Mac joins her at the window and pushes aside the lace curtain to stare in wonder as Frank and Trish exit the pale sage-colored Chrysler in the driveway. As they step up onto the porch, Mac opens the front door. "What happened to Paris? You've only been gone six days?"

Frank chuckles good-naturedly. "Nothing happened to Paris. It's still on the map." Before he allows his wife to precede him over the threshold, he squeezes her shoulders affectionately. "She begged me to take off work and come to Paris with her for three weeks. She thinks I work too hard. So, after four days in Paris, yesterday morning, we're sitting in some fancy-pants little sidewalk café drinking coffee and eating the most ridiculously priced croissants you've ever tasted in your life. I'm pouring over travel brochures, trying to pin down an itinerary for the day, and this woman puts down her coffee cup, looks at me and declares, "Frank, I want to go home. I miss my grandbabies."

Trish thumps his bicep with her handbag. "Oh hush, old man! You're no better than me." She tells Mac, "Last night he was all in a snit because he couldn't connect his tablet to the Internet, and he wanted to wish Laura well before her first day of school, and make sure that she had everything she needed for the day. When I reminded him of the time difference between Paris and here, he became positively irascible."

"Can you blame me? What are the wonders of Paris compared to our Laura?"

Laura giggles. "Hi Grandma, hi Grandpa! I'm gonna sit down, then you can hug me."

Trish raises a curious eyebrow and smiles. Frank exclaims, "Hey! What happened to the walker? You traded it in?"

Laura shakes her head as she slowly crosses the room. "Nah, I still got it. Charlie said I can't take my new crutches to school yet. Not until I get better on them, and don't fall down so much."

Frank frowns. "She falls down?"

Laura nods as Mac answers, "With regularity. Charlie adjusted them for her properly. He told us to expect it until she gets used to the difference between the crutches and walker. Before he let her take a single step, he spent 45 minutes with her practicing safe falls just to make sure she can handle it. She can't rely on the crutches for the same level of support she got from the walker, but he says it will help her in her quest to play baseball next year. The clutches will force her to bear more of her own weight."

Laura shrugs. "Gotta get stronger, if I'm gonna run bases."

Looking at their concerned faces, Mac assures Laura's grandparents, "Not to worry. She's being very closely monitored. No crutches at school yet, and even when she's home, for every hour she spends on them, she has to be off them for two, until Charlie tells her otherwise."

"I didn't think that sounded fair at first, I'm hardly on them at all, but I've only had them for four days… and my arms are sore."

Frank sets a large heavy shopping bag down on the coffee table and joins her on the couch. "Your arms? Not your legs."

Laura shrugs. "My legs get tired, but they don't hurt. Not so far."

Mac explains. "Right now, her arms are stronger than her legs. So, she's relying on them more to compensate of the difference in support between the walker and the crutches. Charlie says as she adjusts, her aches and pains will likely shift to new places. And, I think her whole body gets tired. She's gone to bed a half hour earlier than usual every night since we brought them home, but I can report no major muscle spasms or cramps so far. She gets a little frustrated with her slower pace, and as of yet, I think the walker is still more convenient. She can put things in the basket and carry things around with her walker. She can't do that on the crutches."

"Not yet. But I'm gonna figure it out. The crutches will go places the walker won't."

Joining them on the sofa, Trish pushes Laura's bangs out of her face. "Just be patient with yourself. Don't overdo it, darling. There's no reason to rush."

"Even when she becomes proficient on the crutches, I think the walker will still be going to school. Right now, her walker basically gets weighed down by her book bag."

"Charlie says he doesn't want me carrying a backpack full of books to school every day that weigh more than me. He says that will give me a bad back and that will be way worse than having a bad leg. He says not to give myself any new reasons for therapy."

Frank chuckles. "Charlie sounds like a smart man, maybe I should meet him."

Laura's eyes go wide. "Grandpa, you've never met Charlie? No…" She answers her own question. "I guess you haven't. But that's just because you're always at work when I go to therapy."

Trish nods as she points. "See, you work too hard."

Frank rolls his eyes.

Trish ignores him. "Where are my babies?"

Mac points. "In our bedroom. They've just had their bath. Harm's dressing them. Quick, if you hurry, maybe you can get to them while they still smell nice and clean."

Trish abandons the sofa and disappears so quickly behind the bedroom doorway that Frank can't help but shake his head. With his eyes sparkling merrily, he promises, "I swear. She really does trust you to take care of your own children."

Mac shrugs. "I know that."

Laura smiles. "She's just a really good grandma."

"She is?" Frank teases.

Laura nods emphatically. "Trust me, Grandpa. I know what I'm talking about."

Frank pats her head affectionately. "Laura, honey, has there ever been a time when you didn't know what you were talking about?"

Laura raises an eyebrow and purses her lips. "I hope not."

Chuckling, Frank reaches into the bag on the coffee table and rummages around momentarily until he pulls out a small plain white box that, when opened, reveals a hot pink beret which he positions on top of Laura's head with just the right tilt to it. "There. I told your grandmother it would suit you."

Laura starts to get up, and Mac stalls her. "Stay where you are. I'll bring you a mirror."

As Mac leaves the room, Trish returns with Shannon in her arms and Harm following close behind. He hands Noah over to his grandfather as Trish declares, "Frank, she's talking - and we've missed it!"

Frank looks at the sleepy baby resting in his wife's arms and raises an eyebrow. "She's talking?"

On his way to the kitchen, Harm holds up his index finger. "One word."

Frank smiles. "She's got to start somewhere, doesn't she?"

"Sure, but the way Mom says, 'She's talking…' makes it sound as if Shannon is reciting the Gettysburg Address."

"It's her first word. That's more important than the Gettysburg Address."

"And I do agree with you Mom, though I'm not sure Lincoln would."

Trish rolls her eyes. "Not to be irreverent son, but Lincoln is dead! Furthermore, he has been for 144 years. So, I don't think he's saying much of anything these days."

Mac joins them once again and offers a small hand mirror to Laura as she informs them, "Five days ago we were over the moon. She spoke! One clear and concise word. There was no second guessing whether or not it was just baby babble. Only trouble is, after five days of watching and listening – well, sometimes I'm positive she understands what she's saying. Then, there are times when it's not so clear."

Harm returns from the kitchen carrying two baby bottles. He hands one to each child and offers to take Shannon into his arms. In response, she snuggles deeper into her grandmother's embrace and shakes her head. "No."

Frank chuckles. "The girl knows what she wants. She must be taking lessons from Laura."

Laura stops admiring her new hat long enough to smile. I'm trying to get her to say 'Laura' but so far all she wants to say is 'no."

Mac nods "Yeah, but if you wait long enough, she will look directly at her brother and say the same word, and it's not just when she's annoyed with him. Sometimes, she says it in the sweetest tone; like she's trying to get his attention. I swear, she thinks that is his name."

Trying to coax another performance from the child, Trish leaves her spot beside Laura, and perches on the arm of the sofa closest to Frank and points to the child in his lap. "Shannon… Who's that?"

The baby's eyes track her grandmother's fingertip, but Shannon doesn't make a sound. She's more interested in her bedtime bottle.

Mac shrugs "Sorry. She's sleepy. She's more apt to do it first thing in the morning, or when she's irritated with him, but right now she's winding down for the day."

Trish kisses the top of the baby's head. "That's okay. I can wait, darling." She reaches out with affection and runs her fingers through her grandson's unruly mop of hair trying, although she knows it's useless, to somehow smooth it down into a more proper style. "And what about our boy?"

Harm chuckles. "So far, he's still more interested in moving than talking."

Trish nods. "Sounds familiar. If the two of you are telling him 'no' even half as often as I did you at the same age, then, I wouldn't be surprised if Shannon does think that's his name. We brought gifts back from Paris for each of them, but since bedtime is right around the corner, maybe you should give them to them tomorrow. They don't need to be overexcited right before bedtime, and Frank and I don't want to overstay our welcome tonight." She pauses to smile at her son and daughter-in-law. We've just missed the three of them, and we wanted to say. 'happy anniversary."

Frank nods his head in the direction of the bag on the coffee table; not wishing to disturb his grandson's night-time feeding. "You'll need both hands."

Curious, Harm peers into the bag. He quickly sets aside the two smaller gift-wrapped packages meant for the babies. The last item he tries to remove is a lightweight box that is large enough to barely fit the width of the bag. After a few seconds of trying to free the box without damaging the bag. He picks it up off the coffee table, bag and all and, moving to stand near her, he points the bottom of the bag in Mac's direction.

Mac tugs gently from her end as Harm does the same from his.

Even before the box is opened, Trish tells them, "I want to have it framed for you, but it took longer to finish that I hoped it would. I didn't want it to be late. I ordered it the day Harriett confirmed Noah's impending arrival."

Mac's eyes widen noticeably. "Trish, that was over a year and ½ ago. What on earth is in here?"

Trish shrugs. "Open it."

Harm and Mac share a look as he holds the box and she lifts the lid.

Folded carefully into the box under protective layers of tissue paper is the largest and most elegantly stitched example of needlework Mac has ever personally laid eyes on. The soft cotton-blend fabric must be 3 ½ feet in width and 5 feet in length. In the center of it is the silhouette of a gnarled and ancient oak tree. Most of its delicate leaves bear the finely embroidered names of family members, along with their birth and, where applicable, their death dates. Some of the branches stretch back as far as five generations. Each person represented is linked to either Harm or Mac, and while most of the names are linked by blood; there are a few precious exceptions. On either side of the tree there is a single unattached leaf that appears to be floating freely as though carried on the wind. One clearly acknowledges Mattie's place in the family, the other, Chloe's. Additionally, directly below a branch that bears a leaf that indicates not only the date of Laura's birth, but the date of her adoption as well, there sits a friendly black dog with soft but eager eyes.

Harm smiles and wraps his arms around Mac who touches the delicate material with nothing less than pure wonder and gratitude, and Laura giggles with delight. "Aww, look! It even has Candy!" She throws her arms around Frank so suddenly that Noah squeaks in protest when he loses his bottle.

Frank kisses the crown of her head. "Well, of course, it has Candy. Who needs a family tree without a good dog resting in its shade?"

Hearing her name, Candy leaves her comfy pillow and trots over to pick up the dropped baby bottle and deliver it to Laura.

"Thanks girl," Laura rubs the dog's ears. "but now he has to have a new one."

Harm takes the bottle from Laura and wipes it off with the towel that's still slung over his shoulder before trotting once more into the kitchen to rinse the cap and nipple off with warm water. "I think he'll survive as long as we rinse. He crawls around on the floor all day. Half of the day he's nose-to-nose with the dog. I'm sure she's gotten just as many germs from him as he's gotten from her. Neither of them seems to be seriously ill."

Sleepy Shannon watches all of this, and as Harm returns every bit as quickly as he left, hoping to get there before Noah starts fussing over the temporary absence of his bottle, Shannon reaches out to her older brother, offering him her own with a softly spoken, "No."