Who Needs A Suitcase?

Wednesday, October 9, 2009

Rabb Residence

San Diego, California

19:52 HRS

"Noah Roberts Rabb! Stop that, young man. I am not going to say it again!" Mac pauses mid-task, points with the wooden spoon in her hand, and glowers at her son; who frowns at being scolded but upon seeing his mother's foreboding stare, slowly turns his cup right-side up and stops playing in the small puddle of milk that sloshes around quite nicely on the tray of his highchair.

Mac returns her attention to the vegetables sautéing on the stove in front of her as her friend on the other side of the country laughs merrily at the two of them courtesy of video chat.

"Harriett!" The marine declares with forced patience, "You are not helping."

"Sorry. I can't help it. He's just so stinking cute! And, anyway, that's what happens when you bring three children into the world all at once."

"Hey! I only had a hand in the arrival of two of them. The adorable little blonde one does not belong to me."

"True, but the parents of the adorable blonde probably never would've gotten together if it hadn't been for you and Harm."

Conceding that point, Mac shrugs even as she rolls her eyes. "Laura." She calls out, raising her voice to be heard clearly through both the din of toddler chatter, and the girl's closed bedroom door.

It takes a moment, but the door opens wide enough to accommodate the expectant faces of both Laura and her dog. "Dinner?"

Mac shakes her head. "Not yet. But soon. I know, you're starving. I'm working as fast as I can. Fajita or vegetarian tacos?"

Laura doesn't hesitate. "Definitely veggie."

"There is some leftover Salisbury steak that is going to go bad if we don't eat it within the next day or two. You want that to go with your tacos?"

Laura wrinkles her nose in thought briefly before declining with the shake of her head. "I can skip the meat for once. Just cut the veggies extra chunky. I'll eat a big hamburger for lunch tomorrow."

"Well, that makes things easier. On the table in ten."

"Uncle Harm home yet?"

"No, but he's on his way."

Laura grins. "Did he call?"

Mac repeats. "No, but he's on his way."

Expecting her aunt's rebuttal, Laura teases, "Tell him I said to hurry up. I don't want to eat without him."

"It doesn't work that way, kiddo. I know he's on his way home. But my ability to sense that doesn't come with active telepathy."

"Are you sure about that?"

Mac chuckles. "Pretty sure."

As Laura leaves her bedroom, and steps into her bathroom to wash up in preparation for dinner, the back door opens, and Jack Keeter pokes his head inside. "Marco!"

"Polo!" Mac and Harriett answer in unison.

The devil-may-care pilot grins as he enters the house and walks around the kitchen's island countertop to address both, the marine and woman visible on the screen of Mac's tablet. "Elizabeth sent me. She's got dinner waiting. I'm here for the bug."

Responding to his presence, his daughter tries to stand up in the seat of Shannon's highchair, happily reaching for him. "Kee!"

Rushing toward her, he scoops her up and holds her close. "Let's not do that, okay Firefly?" He shakes his head comically. "You fall out, land on the floor, crack your head like an egg, splatter your brains all over the place, your mama never speaks to me again, and I'll have to take up hard drinking, and swear off women for the rest of my days." He shudders visibly. "It will not be pretty!"

Waving goodbye, and winking for the benefit of the women, he shoulders Ellie's green and white polka dot patterned diaper bag that waits, already packed, beside the back door and leaves just as energetically as he arrived.

Mac watches him trot down the back-porch steps to the beach below; his face animated as he talks to the child in his arms. When he's out of sight, she and Harriett both burst into laughter. "Who would've thought…"

The front door opens, and as Harm crosses the threshold, pausing only long enough to deposit his cover in its customary place beside Mac's on top of the credenza in the small entryway, his own daughter sings out, "Da Da Da!"

As she toddles in his direction, he bends and scoops her up on his way to the kitchen where he steps up behind Mac, drops a light kiss on the crown of her head, and flashes his best smile as he asks, "Who would've thought what, Harriett?"

Laughing, she answers. "That the only female capable of bringing Jack Keeter willingly into adulthood would be under three feet tall."

Harm shrugs in defense of his friend. "Before Beth and Ellie, he didn't need to grow up."

Harriett shrugs and nods agreeably. "I'm going to let you all go enjoy your dinner. It's getting late here, and Bud needs me to tinker with his prosthetic before bed tonight."

Mild concern shows in Harm's eyes. "Is he having trouble with it?"

"Nothing to worry about. It just needs some routine maintenance. I've gotten pretty good at observing his gait and knowing when and how to adjust the thing for him."

Mac shakes her head in wonder. "When and how did we become the experts on the proper functioning of walkers, leg braces, and prosthetic limbs?"

Harriett shrugs again. "When we decided to grow up."

Mac chuckles wryly. "See, I don't remember making a conscious decision to do that."

"Of course not. It snuck up on you when you were learning how to adjust those walkers and leg braces."

"Just today in the school cafeteria, Laura made a new friend who's blind and uses a white cane to help him get around."

Harriett chews on her lower lip thoughtfully. "He'll fit right in. How long do you think it will take Laura to become curious about, and learn to read Braille?"

"She's already asked to go to the library and check out a book on the subject."

Harriett chuckles in delight. "That's our girl! Tell her I said goodnight and I'll call back this weekend. She can tell me all about it."

Minutes later, as they all settle in at the table, Mac uses a dish towel to mop up the mess on the tray of her son's highchair before delivering a small plastic plate to him with bits of warm flour tortilla mixed in with two small spoonfuls of grated cheese, tender squash, tomatoes and zucchini. She gives him a wide-handled child's plastic spoon, with one hand as she takes his cup away from him with the other when he tries, once again, to dribble milk from the spout of the cup's lid into his dinner plate.

"Muh!" Noah reaches out in protest with both hands, grasping for his cup.

Mac shakes her head. "No sir! I told you to stop making messes. You can have it back when you're finished eating."

Noah grunts rudely and when his mother ignores him, he turns to his father. Looking for an ally, he points at her. "Muh!"

Harm bites his lower lip to keep from laughing at the not quite one-year-old boy. "Yes, I know. I heard her. She said no. Sorry pal. Eat your dinner."

Noah grumbles cantankerously but, never one to miss a meal, he still makes immediate, if somewhat sloppy, use of the spoon his mother offered him. Seated across the table from him, his sister puts down her own spoon and uses her fingers to pick up a tiny bite-size piece of tortilla from her own plate and sample it curiously.

When the expression on her face immediately goes sour and she spits out the morsel, Harm chuckles and reaches over to wipe her chin without comment before using her spoon to separate the rest of her meal from the bits of tortilla. When the spoon is hers again, she eats happily for a moment or two until she realizes that Harm is using a folded tortilla to help push his own medley of vegetables onto his fork. When she reaches for his tortilla, he raises an eyebrow comically.

"You won't like it."

Shannon babbles noisily in complaint.

He uses his fork to point out the small pile of discarded tortilla bits on the side of her own plate. "It's the same thing, spark plug."

"Da!" She reaches out again, the fingers on her small hands splaying reflexively like the limbs of a starfish.

Shrugging in resignation, Harm tears the bitten end off of his tortilla and offers the other end to his daughter.

Shannon bites into it eagerly, only to make the same sour face and repeat the regurgitation process all over again before she complains loudly "Da!" as though accusing him of trickery.

Harm chuckles softly, wipes her face again and pats the top of her head. "I tried to tell you. Eat your cheese and veggies."

Mac smirks. "At least she doesn't feel the need to pour her drink out in the middle of her plate at every meal."

Harm shrugs. "We can swap if you like."

From her place beside their son, Mac shakes her head adamantly. "I've told you, Squid. At dinnertime, she's yours. I would rather clean up his mess than have to force food into her mouth."

Harm grimaces. "I don't have to force food into her mouth. She's not really that picky. She just doesn't dive in headfirst the way you three over there on that side of the table do. She is not suffering with some bizarre compulsion to eat everything that won't eat her first."

Laura chimes in. "Hey, be nice. We're carnivores, not cannibals. You could say thank you because, for a change, there is no meat on the table."

Harm flashes his grin and teases, "I did notice the rather suspicious absence of the stench of dead animal. What's it going to cost me?"

Laura turns her gaze to her aunt and the pair shares a meaningful look before the girl leaves the table.

Puzzled, Harm's gaze follows her until she disappears from view inside the kitchen, then he queries, "Where is she going?"

Mac shrugs. "My guess would be the refrigerator."

He listens curiously to the sound of a step stool being dragged across the kitchen floor. A few seconds later a cabinet door opens, china rattles softly, the refrigerator door opens and closes, the microwave beeps, comes on, and then, after a brief pause, beeps again to signify the completion of its job. A moment later, Laura is back; pushing her walker and carefully balancing a small saucer as she returns to her seat at the table. When Harm realizes what she's brought from the kitchen he objects comically. "Laura, you cannot eat leftover Salisbury steak with vegetarian tacos!"

Unconcerned, Laura uses the edge of her fork to slice into the tender meat. Before popping a piece into her mouth, she smiles. "Watch me."

Harm points at his wife. "She learned this from you."

"Laura did learn how to eat before she met me, Harm."

"I'm referring to the display of attitude. That… she got from you."

"And?" Mac shrugs. "I asked her if she wanted beef or vegetarian tacos for dinner. She made her choice. She was being nice to you. Instead of showing appreciation for her choice, you decided to tease us. You have only yourself to blame, Flyboy."

Willing to admit his mistake, Harm changes the subject, "My apologies. Your birthday isn't too far away. Is there anything special you would like to have, sweetheart?"

Laura nods emphatically and wastes no time answering. "I want a baseball bat."

Harm chuckles. "You have a baseball bat."

"I want a real one. Not the plastic one I practice with in the water. It's for little kids. Noah and Shannon can play with it when they get big enough. I looked at the bats the last time we went to Academy. The real ones are heavier than plastic. I may as well start practicing swinging one for real… You know, out of the water. I can swing the plastic one on the sand. I can do it almost every time without falling over. It's time for an upgrade."

Harm nods. "You have improved, that's for sure. "Maybe we should talk to Charlie first before we buy anything heavier though."

Laura sighs. "I already did."

"And what did he say?"

"The same thing he said last time.' Practice on the sand where its soft. If you come back to therapy covered head to toe in bruises, no more baseball.' but at least let me try. you can buy me knee pads and a helmet if you want to. I'll wear them to practice if I have to but I gotta try, otherwise I wasted all this time practicing for nothing. That would suck, Uncle Harm."

When Mac puts down her fork and nods slowly, Harm shrugs. "Alright. The weekend before your birthday we'll go back to Academy and pick out a good one for you. While we're there, I think we'd better get you a big suitcase too."

Laura squints in confusion. "What do I need a big suitcase for? Suitcases are boring. Unless I'm going somewhere? If you're tired of me and you're planning on shipping me off somewhere, please remember to get one with air holes in it."

Aghast, Harm starts, "Of course we're not shipping you off! Laura, even if we were, we're certainly aren't planning to put you inside a suitcase!"

Laura grins.

"Sweetheart, how many times do we have to tell you…"

"Uncle Harm, chill."

"Chill? Laura…"

Laura rolls her eyes as she cuts him off for the second time. "Uncle Harm, I'm teasing you, you big goof. I know you love me."

Harm shakes his head as he wipes his mouth on a paper napkin. "You know that, huh?"

"Yeah, I kinda figured it out. So, calm down and tell me where we're going?"

Well, we aren't going anywhere. Mac and I are gonna stay right here at home with the gruesome twosome. Thanksgiving Day, after we get together for turkey dinner, Grandma and Grandpa are boarding a flight to China. They've invited you to come along… If you want."

It takes several seconds for Laura to decide on a response. First, she looks confused, then doubtful, as if she must've misunderstood something. When nobody interrupts to correct or clarify anything, she's hopeful for three long seconds before she finally makes her way to excited. "China? Me? Are you sure?" When both her aunt and her uncle nod, she pushes her chair back and stands to leave the table again.

Only mildly surprised, Mac says dryly, "You're not finished eating."

Laura waves dismissively in the general direction of her plate as she heads for the phone in the living room. "I can eat anytime. I gotta call Grandma and Grandpa!"