Chapter 4
30 Miles North of Hood River, OR
It was still drizzling when Harm made it out to the job site that had been abandoned for three days due to heavy rains and high winds. A freak storm had dumped enough rain to wash out roads that needed to be rebuilt if the crew of CB Logging had any chance at clearing out the site before the mills closed for the season.
As it was, work had been rough, tougher than any other location due to its hillier terrain and the sheer amount of widowmakers than even seasoned axemen feared. Harm learned about the treacherous trees, the ones that rested precariously against another ready to fall on an unexpected logger on his first job in the company a year and a half prior. He'd cut the wrong way which sent a heavy pine crashing down on a crewmate. The man survived but wouldn't work for months until a broken arm healed. From that point on he set aside his cocky ways and became something of a leader despite his short run as a logger.
"Careful with that one, Ace. See how it's holding on to the other." He pointed a finger skyward, aiming for a bushy pine that was leaning too far into the branches of another tree. "Cut the wrong way we're dead men."
"How can you tell which way to cut?"
Harm moved deeper into the brush where it was easier to visualize the odd angle the tree sat at. He pressed his palm against the trunk and took a deep breath. Despite the faint scent of gasoline from his chainsaw, the woodsy smell prevailed especially in the morning when the sun began to peak above the clouds. "See how it leans? One of two things can happen - either it shoots the opposite way or it crashes down. Either way, if you stand in the wrong spot-"
"Gotcha." Ace walked down the hill keeping his eyes on the tree they were there to cut. The roar of gas powered chainsaws echoed across the site ceasing only to be replaced with the yawning, crackling reverberation of a tree splitting from its trunk followed by the loud crash of timber slamming into the rocky ground. They weren't alone. Four other men also worked diligently and within a few hours the steady work left a carpet of felled trees across the site ready to be pulled out by the heavy machinery at the top of the hill.
After a lunch break it was time to start the most dangerous part of the job, the hauling of logs that began when a long steel cable was stretched from a machine called a yarder to a tree at the bottom of the hill. Across the cable and suspended in mid-air a diesel powered carriage would traverse up and down the cable dangling choker chains that would be dropped and wrapped around the trees in order to pull them out.
The equipment was dangerous, a snap of the skyline could send the carriage crashing on to the workers. A mistake locking the choker could result in a massive tree slipping free and sliding down the hill at an immeasurable speed. The landing itself was just as treacherous, with log after log being piled and readied for an empty truck heading to the mill. It wasn't the sort of job Harm ever imagined himself working. Hard labor, long hours and a type of danger that rivaled flying planes on and off a floating postage stamp.
He enjoyed every moment of it.
No, it wasn't the same rush as flying an F-14 but he'd given up that right when the review board made it nearly impossible to get his wings back. Nor was it in any way similar to JAG, for which Harm was rather glad. There was no specific uniform to wear. No grooming standards to live up to. No commanding officers or nitpicky military regulations to follow. He was his own man, a cog in the wheel that kept CB Logging chugging along. His only requirements were to be on time and keep safety at the forefront of every job.
The work kept his mind off of other subjects he'd begun to entertain less and less as time passed. Maybe distance did heal all wounds and maybe the anger he harbored had finally begun to wane. Maybe…but, as he walked out of the brush and onto the landing with a gallon of water in one hand and a chainsaw in the other, one of the reasons he wound up in Hood River was standing next to his boss. "No. Not you."
"Well would you look at her." Max Coggs, one of the older loggers on the team said with an appreciative tone. "Goddamn, if I'd known they made Marines like her I'd've enlisted with the Devil Dogs instead of Army."
The half-empty gallon of water crashed to the ground the moment he saw her. It felt like he'd been struck by lightning and hit by a wrecking ball all at once. He would have run but his legs felt as if one hundred pound shackles were wrapped around his ankles preventing an escape. It gave her time to bridge the gap between them, the adrenaline in his blood making it appear as if she were walking towards him in slow motion.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Harm thought he'd overcome the anger because two years was far too long to live harboring those poisonous feelings inside. He actually hadn't thought about her in months, a testament to the new life he forged which was suddenly being ripped apart in the blink of an eye.
"I don't know." He knew her so well that Harm saw past the veneer. Dilated pupils, a noticeable red tint to her cheeks but, the greatest tell was at neck, just above the collar of the blouse where Mac's carotid artery pulsed hard with the rushing beat of her heart. The Marine was nervous, scared and something about that shift in the balance of power delighted him to no end.
"You don't know? Hah. Get the hell out of my way, Colonel." He quickly bent to grab the gallon of water and pushed past her without consequence. Of course she would follow to his truck watching as he dropped off the chainsaw, took off the hardhat and used a towel to dry off his sweat.
"Harm- I'm…I'm." Forgetting how to speak, she settled for watching. His hair was indeed longer, the tips dripping sweat that he tried to dry off with a towel. The beard looked so out of place that Harm actually looked like a stranger and he may as well have been given the icy reception. He was also bulkier, she noticed when he took off the blue flannel shirt which left him in a faded black t-shirt with orange suspenders running up and over his shoulders. "Harm-"
"That's not my name. You're looking for someone else." From a small cooler he produced a red apple that he bit into and held between his teeth as Harm leaned against the beat up truck to change out his socks and boots.
He ignored her although every fiber of his being sizzled with an electric charge he hoped had died. When she stepped closer he let out a long, suffering sigh and took a bigger bite from his apple.
"You look so different."
"Yep." He spoke with a mouth full of fruit that he took another bite of to stop himself from saying more.
"Why are you here?" She leaned in a little closer to avoid prying ears from listening. "Is this an assignment from the agency? Did something go wrong? Webb said-"
"Nope. Just wanted a change."
Mac looked around, noticed some of the men were watching with amusement. Their work had more or less stopped save for the heavy machinery on the landing that roared as it stripped the timber free of its branches. Everything had a coating of mud or grease. She'd always know that Harm didn't mind working with his hands or getting a little dirty but this wasn't him. "So you decided to change your name and haul wood off the side of a mountain for a living?"
"Why do you care what I do?"
"We're friends or a least we were and you just-"
Christ, that sounded so lame he had to laugh. "Friends? Hah. Right. Anything else?"
"It's dangerous."
"So is shooting planes off a carrier…crashing into the ocean trying to make a friend's wedding."
The barely tempered anger in his voice made her wince as did the icy glare he sent her way before taking another bite of his apple. They may have butted heads in the past but Harm had never been outwardly cold. "I never asked you to do that for me."
"Hmm."
"How could you just disappear without even saying goodbye? No calls. No emails. Not even a goddamn postcard. Nothing. It was like you never existed."
"It was pretty easy, actually." Because he was jealous and heartbroken. Because despite telling her that he loved her and nearly dying as he rushed home, she still married another man. He'd lived through their engagement and Mic's cocky grin each time he caught Harm looking. Her smile, the light in her eyes when discussing wedding plans gnawed at his insides like a disease that ate him from within.
Too proud to say anything and too stupid to know better than to kiss her senseless the night of her engagement party. He said the words, showed her how he felt but it was all too late and he refused to remain in Washington watching her be happy, her belly round from the child she and Mic would quickly conceive. It would all make for a toxic situation and not one he wished to partake in. So he ran and it worked. He was happier - sort of even if Hood River was one of the last places Harm ever thought to live.
"I need to talk to you. I need to know that you're okay and that I…I'm sorry."
"Colonel, I don't know how you found me but you need to go." Harm wiped his chin and leaned in so close she could smell the scent of pine, gasoline and dried sweat on his skin - a foul combination that most women despised. "Tell anyone where I am and there will be consequences for you, do you understand?"
"Are you threatening me?"
"It's not a threat…Go home to your fucking husband, your kids and don't ever come here again." Harm knew his comment hit a nerve by the way her complexion paled. That pleased him as well and he couldn't stop the snarky grin as she took a step back. "Oh, I see… trouble in paradise?"
God, if he only knew how loaded a question that was. She shouldn't have lied but part of her wanted to hurt him back. "No, we're a perfectly happy little family."
"Well then, go back to your perfectly happy life and leave me the hell alone." He pushed past her once again and joined his band of brothers who instantly hit him with a barrage of questions he'd have to fabricate answers for. "She's an ex, we've been over for years."
The men laughed at the retreating Marine, yelling obscenities Harm didn't dare defend. It stung a little to watch her drive off but, it was for the best because nothing good came out of loving Sarah MacKenzie.
Later That Day
David Elliot's Cottage
Hood River, OR
"Fuck." The second half of his work day had been terrible. Turns were missed when Harm had 'forgotten' how to properly lock the choker lines which wrapped around the timber in order to pull a bunch out of the mountain. A log had slipped narrowly hitting one of the men and it was all her fault.
Harm yanked off his boots on the porch and dropped them onto the mud pan by the door. He didn't bother stripping out of his clothing and instead made a beeline for the kitchen
He needed a drink, a stiff one and a chaser to wash it down for good measure. That's where the Scotch came in. Single malt, expensive and worthy of good times not a way to stifle his miserable thoughts.
Two fingers worth of the amber liquid, neat because ice only destroyed the complex flavors of the spirit. He had one glass and then a second and a third that he actually savored once the warm flow of alcohol ran through his veins. This time, he couldn't forget because he knew that Mac wouldn't give up so easily. Too bad if his heart had mostly recovered because his mind refused to ever let her go. With a huff he stumbled into the bathroom, glass and bottle in hand. Harm took nips from his drink as he watched the rub fill with hot water.
Never a bath guy, his new job made him appreciate a good soak that eased his aching muscles. As he lowered into the steamy water his mind raced back two years to the day he most wanted to forget.
Two Years Prior
The Wedding
Alexandria, VA
He never thought he'd actually make it to her wedding.
Admittedly, Mac's assumptions had been spot on when Harm decided to join the squadron and complete his quals. The Navy had chosen the dates, several of which were months away. It was a favor that bumped up the time frame that could send him away from Washington two days before the rehearsal dinner and the looming nuptials.
The perfect excuse - their timeline not his - the guise of returning for the ceremony, when it was never his intention to see Mac walk down the aisle. But his conscience had eaten away at his seemingly flawless plans, as did the look in her eyes, the hurt and anger all because his pride was wounded.
He nearly died because of his stupidity.
A last minute decision, the perfect storm and an uncontrolled plunge into the frigid waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Nothing in the World could prepare him as Harm slammed into the inky backless leaving him stranded in the storm tossed sea. He thought a lot of her then especially when gargantuan waves tried to swallow him whole. Harm actually wanted to die, had begged for it and then the light from a helo stopped above like some sort of guardian angel sent by his real angel on land.
The crash did give him one thing - time. Three weeks to be exact, half of which Harm spent in the hospital recovering from a torn ACL, amnesia and some damage to his lower back. Mac had visited three times but they were never left alone. He never asked her to give him a chance because the buffoon of her fiance was always near, always watching and waiting to tear her away from him.
Renee had asked him if he crashed on purpose, an absurd question that upset him greatly. Only an insane person would want to experience the violence of an ejection and the catastrophic after effects that could have destroyed the spine. She insisted it was a way to stop the wedding and his ire grew increasingly violent with a bottle of wine being swept off the table out of pure rage. She cleaned up and apologized of course but, wisely, did not stay over that evening and gave him a wide berth while he attempted to recover only arriving in a stunning gold dress the day of Mac's wedding.
Three weeks felt like an absurdly quick time frame to piece together a canceled wedding but, there he stood in the back of St. Patricks wearing his dress whites while watching the woman he loved marry a man he couldn't stand. Yes, he loved Mac and had for longer that he was willing to admit. Falling in love with his partner was definitely not part of any plan for a man who was a confessed serial monogamist. But he had fallen - hard and never understood how much losing her would hurt.
As the couple spoke their vows he wished for Hell on Earth to rain down and stop the farce of a ceremony. Wasn't the priest supposed to ask if someone objected? He'd prepared himself for such an event but then, Harm knew it was something he couldn't do. Mac would never forgive the embarrassment. And what would he say anyway? That he was an idiot to let a good woman slip through his fingers? Would he tell the congregation that the man standing next to her only saw Mac as a prize and not an equal? Could he prove accusations of abuse because Harm believed Mic Brumby to be a violent bastard?
Renee took hold of his hand, gripping so tightly it felt like a noose he couldn't spend a lifetime with. He didn't love her, wouldn't learn to and the moment the festivities concluded, Renee would learn that there was no future between them.
He didn't stand when Michael and Sarah Brumby walked down the aisle as husband and wife, using the pain in his knee and the need for a cane as his security blanket. Frankly, it was easier to sit and ignore the pain that etched his heart rather than continue his friendly charade. Of course, he would see them outside in the obligatory lineup of guests to congratulate the bride and groom. He'd greet Mic first, hobbled his way to a man who would grip his hand so tightly and whisper a poisonous, "I guess I won, mate."
Harm's reaction was thankfully delayed due to Mic's family pushing him along so that they could gush over their favorite son. It ushered him towards the bride and for all talk of women looking so beautiful in their wedding dresses, he rather disliked the drab outfit she'd picked for these nuptials. It was way too confined, covering everything but her face and a small bit of her neckline. Way too conservative than anything he'd ever imagined her wearing but she was still beautiful nonetheless. "You look stunning."
The face she made said otherwise as did the way she pinched the intricate lace pattern on the bodice. "You think so? Not really thrilled with it. I honestly can't wait to get into something more comfortable." Mac dared to look at him with teary amber eyes that nearly took his breath away. "Are you okay?"
Her question was like a slap in the face but he realized she meant his injuries. "Dealing. Gonna take a while to heal."
"I'm glad you came."
"Me too," He lied and leaned in to kiss her, a peck on the corner of her mouth that went far and beyond any well-wisher. It was their final goodbye and he felt her shiver like she had one Spring evening on the Admiral's porch when they shared another kiss. "Congratulations."
Moments later what was left of his heart drove off in the white Rolls Royce which carried the bride and groom.