| Karen |
Holiday Helpers |
April 12, 2004 |
Part One
Friday
19:15 November 7
Starbucks
Washington, D.C.
I’ve been nursing my double mocha Valencia for half and hour. I either have to finish it and go back to my room, or make the call.
How do you thank a man, who has just pulled your very undeserving butt out of an inevitable fire? He didn’t have to stand up in court and say those things. It didn’t save my career, ok I accept that, but it did keep me out of jail. I know he likes to be appreciated. I know this from years of working with him. I also know, he doesn’t like it when someone makes a fuss about actually thanking him.
Heaving a heavy sigh, I dig for my cell phone and make the call.
“Rabb,” he answers.
“Hi Harm. Listen,” I hurry on before he can interrupt or hang up, “can a lady buy a sailor a drink, to express her appreciation for a bold rescue. That is, if you aren’t busy.” I hear music in the background. What am I thinking? This is Friday night; this gorgeous man isn’t going to be alone on Friday night.
“It was nothing,” I knew he would say that, “you deserved a break.”
“Look Harm, I’m sorry I bothered you I…I just want to say thanks.” I try as gracefully as possible to back away from an embarrassing situation.
“No wait, Mattie and I were just finishing dinner, why don’t you come over,” he offers, ever the gentleman.
“No, I don’t think so, that wouldn’t be a good idea.” I’m feeling terribly foolish.
“C’mon,” he coaxes, “we could catch up.”
“Harm, you’re busy, I didn’t mean to interrupt.” This is truly awkward.
“You’re not interrupting anything Carolyn,” then he chuckles. “Mattie? You think me and Mattie? It’s not like that Carolyn, but she’s not old enough to drink, and you sound like you could use a friend or two right now. It’s rough, I know, being cut loose suddenly.” Lord, this man is sweet. Along with every other woman who has ever met him, I fall in love all over again.
“Well, I could use a friendly face, but they don’t serve that kind of drinks here. How does Mattie feel about fruit juice?” I smile, still off base but more comfortable.
“About the same as any teenager,” he laughs. “Where are you?”
I give him directions
“We’ll be there in ten minutes. See ya.” Very simple, very forthright.
I guess I still have one friend left in the world, and an unlikely one at that. Wonder what Harm is doing with a teenager in tow. I guess I’ll find out in a few minutes.
Saturday
20:20 November 8
Bud Roberts’s front porch
“Harm,” she whispers, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Relax, Bud wouldn’t have invited you, if he and Harriet didn’t want you, and if you find yourself alone, you have Mattie and me. Anyway, it’s too late,” I grin as the door opens and a small, dynamic human, propels himself into my arms.
“Uncle Harm,” the child squeals in delight, gracing me with a huge hug, giving my two ‘dates’ a suspicious look, pronouncing that auntie Mac is already there, and wiggling down to drag me inside.
I see her shrug in surrender, no retreat now. They give each other supporting looks and step through the door.
Bud is shaking my hand, and turns a huge smile on both of my ladies, but it’s Harriet, who breaks the ice.
After accepting a hug and kiss on the cheek, she turns. “Carolyn, I’m so glad you came,” she declares sincerely, “and you must be Mattie. Harm told me all about how you rescued him, but I need to hear your side,” she smiles at me conspiratorially, as she leads them off to insert them into her cozy social gathering. I’m amazed at how easily Harriet handles difficult social situations. She’s a true southern lady.
Twenty minutes later, I’m leaning against a wall next to Mattie. She’s perched on a barstool surveying the scene and munching on finger food. Carolyn has managed to blend into the crowd of former co-workers without much difficulty, after her initial reticence wore off. I spot Mac standing across the room, the crowd has thinned momentarily, and she is without companionship.
I lean down and whisper in Mattie’s ear. “Would you like to meet Mac? She’s not as fearsome as she looks.”
Mattie looks up at me a giggles. “You goof. She doesn’t look fearsome, she looks gorgeous, though, I guess that could make her fearsome. Tell me again, why you two aren’t together?” She teases in a sarcastic tone that lets me know I’m crazy to even think of trying to speak to Mac.
“You know,” I shake my finger at her and threaten, “you know, you’re not too big to be spanked.”
She grabs my finger and challenges me with, “I’m big enough that it would no longer be called child abuse.”
I roll my eyes and respond with, “You are way too old for your years, young lady. Now do you want to meet Mac or not?”
“I don’t think so, not right now, she’s watching us you know.” Mattie confides conspiratorially.
“I know, that’s why I want you to meet her.” Mac will like Mattie; she’s so much like Chloe.
“Afraid of what she’s thinking?” This child has been alone among grownups, way too long.
“Mattie,” I exclaim in exasperation, “she knows about you, at least she should I haven’t made it a secret.”
“But you haven’t told her either,” this girl would make a good lawyer.
“No but,” I run my fingers through my hair, “you don’t keep secrets in that office.”
“Harm I’m not as old as you,” she explains patiently I give her a no shit look, “but the one thing I’ve learned, is that the only secret that ever gets kept, is the one you want everyone to know.”
I just look at her for a moment, with the dawning realization that she may have a very valid point. And it may apply to more than just this one situation.
“You had better go talk to her Harm. This is an interesting crowd; I want to watch people a little while longer.” She declares ponderously.
I shove off from the wall and head in Macs direction, just as she turns away to look out the window, I’m not sure if its for effect, fortification or outright defiance I grab a tumbler at the bar and pour a hefty shot of bourbon.
Strolling as casually as I can and still make my target before it’s intercepted, I head across the room.
Part Two
“Evening Mac,” I walk up behind her. She tenses, then forces herself to relax, before turning to look up at me. It’s only a glance, but there is so much pain there. I mentally shrug; she must be having problems with Webb already.
“Evening Harm,” another time, another place, we could have used the old familiar ‘Hey’ but not anymore, we aren’t there now.
“You look nice this evening,” I fully expect some sarcastic rejoinder, but we are in polite company, and it was the polite thing to say.
“Thank you,” she answers, no comeback, no emotion at all, in fact. I could have said, ‘it’s raining’ and received more response.
“Where’s your pregnant girlfriend?” she continues, after a deep breath. The words bite deep, the tone is light but somehow sad, I knew it was coming. She means Catherine.
“She had other plans.” I shrug. She nods acceptance of my statement.
“I see. I never should have thought you would voluntarily abandon a lady in distress.” She replies in a small voice.
I just look at her for a minute. “Other way around, actually.” I admit.
“What do you mean?” She looks puzzled, and is that, perhaps, concern?
“Just what I said, I made a perfectly legitimate offer. She abandoned me.” I look at her hard, so she knows what I’m admitting to.
“It….It wasn’t your baby?!” It’s both a question and a statement.
“How would you know that?” I ask caustically. It’s something she should have known instinctively. I’m tired of this conversation already.
“Because you would have never let her go, if it was.” She answers assuredly.
“Some women don’t appreciate being rescued, Mac.” I reply in a soft voice, that belies the intended hurt. The point scored, rocks her for a minute.
“That apparently doesn’t include Carolyn.” She suggests, after she recovers from the verbal blow.
“She just needed a little encouragement to rejoin the group. She sort of felt like an outcast, being cut loose like that. I knew how she felt; I was nothing more than a shoulder to cry on for a few minutes,” I nod my head in Carolyn’s direction, “she’s fine now.” Noting a flash of pain cross Macs face again, I wish that I could convince myself it had anything to do with me. But I can’t, so I take a healthy pull on my glass.
I’m about to cut the conversation short, since it has no apparent purpose, when she nods her head towards Mattie.
“And the teenager? Since I never had you pegged for the midlife crisis type, there must be a story there.” She comments with a tentative smile.
That about tears it, I can almost believe from her tone, that this is the old Mac bantering and teasing for information, but we’ve gone too far for that, and I can’t accept those terms. The words that keep coming from her mouth don’t match her voice and face. I’m not doing this anymore.
“You know Mac, you’ve been using that word an awful lot lately, maybe you should pull back and think about what you’re saying, before you use it again.” With that, I drain my bourbon, and indicate the other door to the living room with my glass. “Someone appears to be looking for you,” I almost spit, indicating Webb, whose head is poking around the corner.
Spotting Sturgis and Bud in an awkward greeting, I stomp off in their direction, grabbing three beers from the ice bucket on the way. For some reason, I honestly believe I can help them mend their friendship.
20:45
Roberts' holiday party
I don’t believe it. Again. It happened again. Am I going to be caught in this vicious cosmic loop forever? Cursed for eternity, to relive, over and over, these bizarre conversations, where we just don’t connect?
There have been others in the past, too many others. Some of the most notable being, when he left to fly, the ferry in Sydney, the admiral’s porch, on the Guadalcanal, and the worst, by far the worst in Paraguay. I made some judgment errors, and, as a result, he jumped to some dangerous conclusions.
We both had agendas that included the same things; we just never seemed to be reading the same line. He wanted to talk about us, and I wanted to talk about us, he wanted to fight terrorists, and I wanted to fight terrorists, he came to rescue me, and dear god, did I need rescuing.
He reacted badly to my relationship with Webb, without really finding out what it consisted of, and what my feelings were. I reacted badly to finding he had given up the Navy, believing it was something else I was going to have to show undying gratitude for. I never wanted my relationship with Harm, to be like the one I had with Mic. I guess all the fighting, to keep us even, was just for that reason.
“That went well, whose fault was it this time, yours or his?” A voice came from just behind me.
I expected it to be Webb, but it certainly wasn’t his voice, and when I turn, I spot him halfway across the room, with Catherine Gale on his arm. The voice belongs to the sweet-faced teenager, who was the catalyst for the latest Mackenzie/Rabb disaster, otherwise known as a conversation.
I just look at her for a long minute. “Mine, his, doesn’t matter I’ve lost count. I sometimes wish I could quit trying.” I heave a heavy breath, and glance wistfully towards the spot where he disappeared.
“Thought you already did.” She gives me a pointed look.
“No, not really, although it could have sounded that way at the time, if the person hearing it was in the proper frame of mind. Which,” I add, “he apparently was. You remind me of Chloe.” Just what Harm needs, his own personal Chloe. Or maybe he does.
“He said you’d say that,” she observes.
“I’d say what?”
“About Chloe,” she clarifies.
“He did?” I’m taken aback.
“Yep”
“Have you talked about me a lot?” I’m intrigued, but I try to contain the hope that creeps into my voice.
“Why. Do you care?” She’s beginning to sound like Harm.
“No I….” I try for casually unconcerned, but it doesn’t work, so I just nod silently. “Look, I don’t know who you are, but you’re apparently an important part of Harms recent life, and you seem to know a lot about me, about us. I’m kind of at a disadvantage here.” I admit. This is annoying, but something keeps me talking to her.
There is a flicker, just hint of compassion, starting to form in her eyes.
“You still love him don’t you?” She’s certainly blunt.
“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell him?” I bargain, not knowing what there is to gain by this conversation.
“Why?” She asks indifferently, she’s right though; it doesn’t matter very much.
“Because something like that should come directly from the person involved, not from a third party.” An assertion that sounds like I might ever tell him, when I know the last chance I ever had to tell him is long gone.
“Makes sense,” she agrees. However, I suspect she may be agreeing with the statement without agreeing not to tell. What does it matter? He wanted Catherine, even carrying someone else’s child.
“So, do you?” she repeats. I wonder if Harm has thought of directing her towards law school.
“Yeah, I guess I do,” I shrug, “can’t help it, he’s a hard habit to break.”
“But you’ve never been together,” she blurts the painfully obvious.
“Yes, we have, in so many ways, just not in one way.” I reply wistfully.
“And you want the rest of it?” Her voice is displaying less antagonism.
“You are a very inquisitive young lady.” I tell her sternly.
“Only way you find things out, is to ask,” she shrugs.
“Well uh…” I hesitate, realizing I’m spilling my guts, to a teenager whose name I don’t even know.
“Mattie,” she supplies.
“Mac,” I respond
“Well Mattie, I guess the very kindest thing you could say about us, is that we both wanted the same thing, but at different times, and never seemed to be able to line it all up.” This is as far as I can go.
“So, you’re not in love with that spook?” She asks thoughtfully.
“Nope, never was.” This I can say to anyone, who cares enough to ask.
“And he’s not with Catherine, never was,” she muses.
“He said he tried,” I offer.
“Yeah,” she shrugs dismissively, “but that’s one smart lady. She knew it wouldn’t work; she wasn’t having anything to do with it. The reasons were all wrong”
“Smart lady,” I agree, “funny how the ones that don’t really want him, always seem to get him.” I add longingly.
“Do you still want him?” she queries, in a forthright offensive action.
“I beg your pardon?” I’m amazed by her assertiveness.
“You heard me, if you could, do you still want him?” She repeats.
She’s nothing, if not persistent. “It doesn’t really matter he doesn’t want me.” I reply, not believing I’m on the defensive to a teenager.
“He told me you do that.” One corner of her mouth turns up in amusement.
“What?” I ask, giving her an example of my Marine glare.
“Give non-responsive answers, he called it. And the look, he told me about the look.” She is completely unfazed. “I could almost believe you don’t know the answer.”
“That’s it isn’t it?” she continues. “You haven’t allowed yourself to admit it, have you?”
“Does Harm find you this difficult?” I’m not sure I want to talk to her any more.
“Every bit, now answer the question Colonel, for yourself at least.” Amazing, she almost makes it sound like an order.
I stare off in the direction he disappeared. “For what its worth yes, I never stopped wanting him, I just stopped hoping I’d ever have him.”
“Wow, you are one hard nut to crack. I can see how you two have so much trouble. Your minds work almost identically, except on different wavelengths. If you ever get in synch I doubt the world will be ready for you.” She declares.
“How old did you say you were?” I’m intrigued by her insight.
“I never tell my age.” She sounds thirty-something. It’s almost comical.
“Close to fourteen, is my guess.”? I cast a practiced eye at her.
“You’re an expert on teenagers?” she challenges.
“Harm told you about Chloe, didn’t he?” I remind her.
“Some, not a lot.” She admits.
“You are peas in a pod. God help us if you ever meet.” The thought is chilling.
“Maybe you wouldn’t need god's help, if we do meet. But since she lives in Vermont, I may have to handle this on my own.” Her face is bland but the eyes sparkle.
“Mattie, you said you wouldn’t tell.” I remind her.
“No, I said I agreed with your reasons why I shouldn’t tell.” She clarifies.
“Mattie please. I have to work with him again. It will just make it more difficult.”
“Trust me Mac, I’m fourteen, not stupid.” She answers thoughtfully, then turns and walks towards the buffet.
Part Three
Grace Flying Center
16:10
November 23
It’s one of those perfect days for flying. The sky is blue and cloudless, hardly any wind, and it’s neither too cold nor too hot. I could stay in the air forever. Unfortunately, the fuel tanks are disagreeing with me, and it’s not my plane.
I’ve finished the last job of the day, the last job for this year. The season is over now until spring. I indulged myself a bit, while dusting the Garrison farm, playing in the sky with my new friend, like an errant child. Kissing the clouds, then plunging to earth, only to find a new way to soar skyward again. She isn’t the same as my ‘Sarah,’ not as complex, there isn’t the soul deep connection, but she handles nicely, and isn’t quite as temperamental. I fight my inclination to draw the obvious parallels with real life, as I bring her softly to ground, and taxi to the hangar.
I’m going to miss the weekend flying. Even though Mattie says she schedules lessons and pleasure flights, to keep the business alive during the winter, it’s not my idea of fun. Besides, she has two full time pilots to handle that stuff, and I have to get to work on my caseload, before the Admiral fires me again.
As I climb from the cockpit, a decidedly teenager-like voice assails me. “Way to go hotshot, that was some flying, at the Garrison’s. You were having too much fun, to be working,” she accuses lightly.
I turn and give her one of my cocky flyboy grins, “That’s what we say it’s all about, in the Navy, ‘too much fun to believe they actually pay us to do it’. Do you watch all your pilots, or do you just like to watch me fly, ‘cause I’m so good?” I taunt her.
“I was collecting your paycheck, if you must know.” She provides in a patient tone, then with more exasperation, adds, “Wow flyboy, you do have way too much ego,” before she turns quickly and walks off.
I can tell by the set of her shoulders, she realizes the error she just made, and she’s hoping desperately, I won’t notice. There is only one person, who ever called me that. Mac. And all of a sudden, things untangle and start lining up.
Every time I’ve spoken to Mattie, since the Roberts’ holiday party, she’s asked about Mac. How is she, if we have any cases together, or some other question about our past. This morning when I arrived, she pounced on me with a request to meet Chloe, citing the fact that, if she and Mac were so close, Chloe was sure to visit over Christmas.
And the red car, it was well hidden by the trees. I compliment myself on seeing it, but I’m a fighter pilot, born, bred, and trained. Someone else might not have even noticed, however something in the bottom of my soul, tells me it was Mac. She was watching me fly. This is crazy, but I wonder.
I finish servicing the plane and secure it, before I head to the office to collect my last paycheck. Mattie is busy directing one of the other pilots, in his job lineup for next week, so I take this opportunity to watch her. She acts so grown up, and it tears my heart that she has to be this way, she’s little more than a child.
Circumstances have forced her to abandon those last few years of mindless fun, and survive in the adult world. She’s done a remarkable job; nevertheless, it is sad. She reminds me so much of Chloe, and they both make me think of Mac. They all suffered the same fate, but Mac has already repaired a lot about Chloe’s life, and I hope to do the same for Mattie.
When she finishes with Joe, I step up to the counter. She silently hands me the check. I fold it and stuff it into my jeans. She’s still afraid I’ll say something about her slip of the tongue, but whatever it’s about, I’m not going there right now.
Carolyn told me Mattie and Mac talked at the party, and if she still talks to Mac, that can only be good thing. Mac is nothing, if not a positive influence.
“Mattie, why did you ask to meet Chloe?” I ask, surprising her.
“I…I guess I thought it would be fun.” She shouldn’t need an excuse to have fun.
“OK.” I agree, feeling a little foolish.
“You know, it’s Christmas, and girls like to shop. Maybe it would be fun for her too, I mean to go shopping with me, maybe see a movie, or a concert that adults wouldn’t enjoy.” She shrugs shyly. They are valid reasons, and I should have thought of every one. She deserves some fun, god knows.
“You’re right, absolutely, Mattie. No question it would be fun for you. First thing Monday, I’ll ask Mac if Chloe’s coming, and then we’ll arrange a day for you two to have some fun.” I was so tied up in the idea that Mattie might be up to some ulterior plan; I never stopped to think she’s just a teenager, who hasn’t really had the chance to act her age for a while. Jeez, Rabb, how self-centered can you get?
She smiles and nods at the prospect. “Maybe I could get her email address, and we could sort of start to get acquainted,” she suggests.
“Another good idea, I’ll work on it. But right now, I think we ought to work on some dinner, what do you say? We can celebrate my last paycheck. Maybe I can negotiate a part time job in the spring, if you don’t have too many hotshot pilots beating down your door by that time,” I tease her.
“Sounds like a plan Harm, buy me some ribs, and I’ll seriously consider you as a rehire.” She smiles, impishly.
I roll my eyes in mock horror, but it’s a well-used game between us now. The rib place has one of the best salad bars I’ve ever seen.
It may not be first thing on Monday, but I will talk to Mac. I have to figure out how to approach her with a personal subject. We haven’t really spoken on any level except professional since my return, and since the party, we’ve hardly spoken at all.
It’s my fault; I freely admit that, even to myself. I was an ass. And the reason is so deeply personal, that I can’t even conceive of an adequate apology. Not one that will make sense.
I mean, how can I go up to her and say ‘Gee Mac, I’m sorry I behaved like a bastard. But its because being around you, seeing you, and talking to you, watching you walk, and smile, and laugh, knowing you belong to someone else, makes me so crazy I can’t even stand to be polite to you’. Now really, even a ludicrously articulate lawyer such as myself can’t find a way to present that case.
But somehow, I have to find a way. If I keep telling myself it’s for Mattie, I can make myself talk to her. And if I make myself talk to her, I’ll find a way to apologize. Somehow, I’ll work from there.