Can You Say Birthday?

Saturday, October 24, 2009

Rabb Residence

San Diego, California

16:22 HRS

Carrying two heavy canvas totes, one full of groceries, the other more than half filled with library books, Mac lets herself in the front door talking over her shoulder to both Trish and Laura. Lost in conversation, she drops her load on top of the bar that separates the kitchen from the living area and begins unpacking even before she says hello to Harm and Frank, let alone, realizes that they are not the only men in the house.

Frank says a polite but quiet, "Excuse us." as he and Harm leave their seats and step into the foyer to relieve Trish of the three grocery sacks she hauls in, struggling to close the door behind herself.

Having successfully learned to maintain her balance with two crutches as opposed to one walker with only the rarest of mishaps, Laura joins them all at the bar and, propping one crutch against it, she pats her dog's head and then shifts her weight and sheds the right shoulder strap of her backpack before swapping her remaining crutch from one arm to the other and relieving herself of the opposite strap. When her backpack hits the floor with a noticeable thud, a familiar but unexpected voice queries, "Which is heavier, darlin? You, or your bookbag?"

Turning her attention toward the living room Laura is a breath away from greeting her uncle and grandfather. Even as reason argues that the voice she heard belongs to neither man, her gaze slides passed, and then rapidly returns to the man seated in her uncle's favorite chair. Flashing one of her brightest smiles, she asks in uncertainty, just a half second before her aunt echoes "Admiral Chegwidden?"

"Not anymore." The retired seal reminds them both gruffly as he comes to his feet. "It's just A.J. now. Although, when last we met two years ago, my last name was a bit of a mouthful for you, Laura."

Laura shrugs. "I wasn't even seven then, and it's not exactly the kind of name people hear every day. It was a new word for me. It only confused me until Aunt Mac wrote it down for me so I could look at it. It's spelled just the way it sounds. So, it's not hard to say anymore."

He nods approvingly. "Good for you. I can't tell you how many grown people don't understand that it's spelled just like it sounds."

"Well this is nice." Mac interjects. "We weren't expecting to come home from the library and find you here, sir."

Chegwidden nods. "I was in Tijuana this morning and it seemed odd to be this close and not at least say hello. I called, and Rabb told me to drop by. If I'm interfering with party plans, blame him."

Mac chuckles. "You're welcome here anytime, sir. Although Noah's birthday is today, the party isn't until next weekend. So, we were just out running normal weekend errands. Chloe is flying in for another Halloween exhibit at the Montage and we're going to throw one big bash next Saturday afternoon for all four of the kids. Halloween, birthdays, adoption… All rolled together in one. What were you doing in Mexico this morning?"

Chegwidden grimaces. "Putting the fear of god, or at the very least, the fear of me into my daughter's louse of an ex-husband. He's making things difficult for her."

Mac's eyes widen noticeably. "Well, whatever trouble Francesca is having with him, I'm certain it will cease to exist. Though, I'm sorry to hear she's divorced. I'm afraid I didn't even know she'd gotten married."

"That because I should do a better job of staying in touch, and don't waste your time being sorry. She never should have married him in the first place."

"Well alright then." Mac declares with an air of finality as she chuckles, sensing it's best to let the current line of conversation drop as she bends to pick up her son when he comes near and tugs at her pant leg. She hugs him close, and then quickly returns him to his feet; setting him free as she gestures toward Shannon. "She will stay in your arms for as long as you let her, sir. Feel free to put her down whenever you choose."

"We're fine. Aren't we, Miss Shannon?" He offers a stiff smile to the child he holds in the crook of one arm as she studies him with quiet curiosity. "I'm not certain which fascinates her more, my bald head, or my goatee. Neither she nor her brother seems very chatty yet."

Laura laughs. "Shannon will talk both your ears off once she decides she likes you. Grandpa say she chatters like a magpie, but the only two words you'll be able to understand are 'no' and 'Da.' She says 'Da' when she wants Uncle Harm, and sometimes 'no' means no and sometimes it means Noah. Either way, she's usually talking to him when she said it."

Frank nods in agreement as Mac continues where Laura left off. "Noah can say quite a few words - that is when he decides he cares enough to do it. He's more about action than talk."

While Noah makes the rounds, quietly eliciting brief hugs from all who just arrived, Chegwidden nods his approval. "Talk is cheap."

Moving to the coat closet, Laura swaps her crutches for her walker, then returns to her previous spot, and picks up her backpack; hefting it onto the walker's seat and looping the shoulder straps over the walker's hand grips for added security. As she crosses the living room on her way to her bedroom, she informs the admiral, "I've been trying for three days to get Noah to say 'birthday.' So far, he's not interested." She's out of sight for a moment, and then returns minus the heavy book bag. Making eye contact with her cousin, she encourages, "Noah, say 'birthday."

Ignoring her entirely, Noah turns his attention to Mac. "Muh?"

"Yes sir?" Mac answers.

"Eat."

"Alright, I will fix you something as soon as the groceries are put away. Laura is talking to you. Can you say birthday?"

Noah shakes his head comically "Eat."

Chegwidden smirks. "He may look more like his father, but clearly, the birthday boy has his mother's marine-sized appetite. He was eating when I walked through the door an hour ago."

Mac laughs. "Yes sir. He does that about once every hour and 15 minutes."

Her former commanding officer eyes the boy with mild scrutiny. "It doesn't show. He must have your metabolism as well."

Trish chuckles as she steps into the conversation. "He never eats more than a handful of food at any given time. I don't think he can sit still long enough to eat more than that. He's always moving. He moves in his sleep. Not at all unlike Harm at the same age. It's nice to see you again, sir. I think the last time we were all in the same room together was two years ago, the morning after their wedding." She gestures to Harm and Mac.

"That sounds right, ma'am. It must be nice to have them so close to home. And, I'm sure the three little ones keep you busy."

Frank looks around the room and offers a quiet correction, holding up four fingers. "Young Ellie and her parents are just a couple of doors down. We rarely ever see Shannon without Ellie, or Ellie without Shannon. They were undoubtedly kindred souls before they were ever born."

Chegwidden nods with certainty as the small girl in his arms pivots her head, studying the two older men in the room. "Given the highly unusual nature of their birth, I'm not surprised. They knew each other months before either of them knew anyone else, including their parents. Blood or not, they've been sisters since conception." When an afterthought occurs to the retired navy man, he glances at the little girl's mother and, out of good conscience and respect, he offers belatedly, "… unless I shouldn't say that."

Harm passes a longneck beer bottle to Chegwidden on his way to the couch and shakes his head dismissively. "It's perfectly all right, A.J."

Mac nods as she puts groceries into the refrigerator. "We all tend to think, not to mention, talk about them as if they are cousins given the pre-existing bond between Jack and Harm, but it's no secret. Everyone here knows - sisters are precisely who they are."

A.J. shrugs. "Good. I'm curious, does this ever get confusing?"

Mac shakes her head. "If it ever does get confusing, it'll only be because we, the adults, have done something to make it that way. So far, we just take our cues from girls. The fact that they are biologically unrelated sisters with two different sets of biological parents, who just happened to come out of the same womb on the same day is meaningless to them. They only understand that they belong together."

"And if any one of the four of us is ever dumb enough to forget that, they remind us." Harm laughs. "Shannon will not go to bed at night without Ellie. Ellie wakes up angry without Shannon there beside her. We've almost gotten them to where they can get through the day without seeing each other if they have to, but nights are out of the question. If Ellie isn't at our house, Shannon is at theirs. We work around it and roll with them. Otherwise, nobody in either house would ever sleep."

"We don't give in to their every whim…" Mac says, stepping out of the pantry "but nights are non-negotiable."

Chegwidden raises an eyebrow. "Every night?

Harm nods drolly. "Every night. Which reminds me, Mac. Ellie is here tonight. I think Skates needs a night off."

Chegwidden continues. "That's going to be a problem if any one of the four of you ever gets PCS'd."

"No." Mac nods her head in response to her husband's comment even as she speaks to A.J. "Not a problem. Beth pulled retirement. If Jack has a permanent change of station before Ellie is in grade school, they've already discussed it, she stays here with Ellie. It won't be easy if it comes to that, but I'm prepared to do the same or, if necessary, resign my commission."

Chegwidden blinks. "I seem to recall you trying that once before, Mac."

"Pbbt." Mac waves his carefully worded warning aside. "The cushy job Dalton Lowne brought my way cannot hold a candle to all this." She smiles and gestures to the home and the people around her. "I can hold the fort down most days without Harm if I have to, but I don't have a snowball's chance in hell of managing all this without Beth or Trish. They are my reinforcements, and, when necessary, they even provide air support. I can field strip an M-39 in the time it takes a civilian to tie his shoes, but I cannot do this…" She gestures again. "without them."

Chegwidden shrugs and says plainly, "Just make sure that both of you don't retire thinking you going to go into practice together. Southern California will not survive."

While her aunt and uncle look at each other and laugh Laura, who understands neither the comment nor what is funny about it, squints in confusion. "Why not? They go good together. They're noisy, but they're good."

Chegwidden snorts. "Laura, darlin', I was in charge of these two for a lot of years before you came along. If I put them on opposite sides of the courtroom they fought. If I put them on the same side of the courtroom… They tried to massacre each other."

Laura eyes him doubtfully. "Maybe so, but they don't do that anymore."

"They don't? Not even when they think nobody's looking?"

"I don't think so. They both sleep in the same bed at night, and they don't wake up in the morning bruised and bloody." Laura shrugs.

Chegwidden smirks as the girl's aunt and uncle protest comically, both of them saying just a little too loudly, "Laura!"

"I thought about locking the two of them in a room alone together almost daily for the better part of nine years, Laura, but the Navy would have frowned on that!"

"They don't argue about work stuff anymore."

Harm winks at the girl. "That's not because we don't work in the same office anymore, Laura. It's because we don't have the energy. We're exhausted."

Laura smirks. "That's because you have too many kids, Uncle Harm."

Harm laughs. "Do not! We have just enough."

"If you say so. I'm going outside to practice my swing."

Harm nods. "Feet dry, right? It's getting a little late in the year to be in the water."

Laura glances out one of the windows. "The sun is shining. It's nice outside."

Mac interrupts, "It's also 68° outside. It has to be at least 70° before you're allowed in the water. You know that. You can change into a short sleeve shirt if you want but take your green fleece jacket out there with you in case the wind picks up again. You cannot get sick, Laura. We have too much to do to get you ready, and the next 32 days is going to be gone before you know it."

"I think that's just you, Aunt Mac. I marked it on the calendar. It's taking forever, but yeah, I'll stay dry. Laura glances at her dog. "I can't promise that Candy will."

Mac chuckles dryly. "Laura, talking you out of playing baseball would be easier than keeping Candy out of the ocean."