~~~Of Fathers and Sons~~~

 

Harm took a deep breath and ran his hand through his hair.  He hadn’t talked about Annie and Josh with anyone in a very long time.  In fact, he hadn’t heard from her since that day she ended things with him four and a half years ago.  Of course, taking Josh on the adventure from hell—against her wishes no less—probably had some role in her decision, he thought.  Whatever the reason, she had become just one more in a long line of failed relationships.

 

He sighed, “Um, I guess it was about two years after Diane died.  I had an occasional date here and there.  If you’re asking about relationships I had after her, Annie was next.  Her husband Luke was a classmate of mine—he and I went to flight school together.”

 

A shocked Maddie looked at Harm, interrupting him before he had the chance to continue, “You dated a married woman?”  She tried to keep the incredulous tone in her voice down to a dull roar. 

 

“No!” Harm quickly corrected her, “I would never do that!  Her husband, Luke, was killed in a test-flight accident.”

 

“Oh,” Maddie replied with a sigh of relief. She didn’t think he was that kind of man, but in the course of these sessions, she’d found out he was full of surprises.  “I’m sorry to hear that,” she added genuinely.

 

Harm continued, “We—Annie and I—didn’t start seeing each other until nearly a year after Luke had died—after she moved to Baltimore.  He left behind a son, Josh.”

 

Mac remembered Annie quite well.  In fact, the first time she met her, her first impression was that she was a frightened, needy woman.  In her opinion, Annie never got over the death of her husband—and that, basically, had left her scared of life in general.

 

Neurotic Annie—she had called her that on one occasion.  Well, it wasn’t exactly an occasion.  It was when she had shown up drunk at the courtroom after Dalton was murdered.  Harm had tried to help her and the thanks she had given him was a verbal slap in the face.

 

Harmon Rabb Jr., so righteous, so pure. You never had a weak moment in your life, did you?

 

I'm gonna wait outside.


Oh wait a minute I forgot. Yeah, you have had weak moments. Of course. Your long lost father. Neurotic Annie.

They always say that hindsight is twenty-twenty.  Recalling that moment, Mac realized how horrible she was to Harm.  She still regretted it profoundly, as she did the moment she sobered up.  Although she did truly feel Annie had her problems, she should have never thrown that into Harm’s face.  Yet, she knew that nothing he could ever do would be enough to diminish Annie’s unfounded fears.   Mac often wondered what it was that Harm saw in her.

 

After making a few notes, Maddie asked, “Who initiated the relationship?”

 

“I guess it was mutual,” Harm said with a shrug.  “We had become close while she was still living in California.  After they moved to Baltimore, her son had witnessed a murder and she called me to help them—from a legal standpoint.  They came to live with me for a while and it just happened.  We sort of connected on some level,” he replied. 

 

He wondered if this had happened today, would they have ended up together.  They were both at a juncture in their lives where they craved the security that comes from a relationship.  The loss of Luke was still very fresh in Annie’s life.  And, having just found out that his father might still be alive somewhere in Russia, Harm’s life likewise had been turned upside down.  They both were coincidentally in the right place at the right time.

 

“How did you feel about her son?”  Maddie pressed, wondering if the presence of Annie’s son had something to do with the dissolution of their relationship.

 

“Josh? I cared a lot about him.  I guess I sort of identified with him—having lost my father at a young age too.  We had this bond between us.”

This was news to Maddie.  She hadn’t realized Harm had grown up without a father—like Mac—but she was sure his circumstances were different.  And now, hearing about Josh, and Harm’s relationship with his mother, Maddie was curious about the basis of it.  Even though she didn’t know the whole story, her past experiences with these situations made her wonder if Harm was trying to fill a void in his life—by trying to fill a void in someone else’s. Again, Maddie quickly jotted some notes and then decided to explore this a little more.

 

“How old were you when you lost your father?”

 

Alarms suddenly started going off in Mac’s head.  She knew instantly where Maddie was going with this.  Her first instinct was to end this discussion before it begins.  Harm had been through enough hell over the years searching for his father.  Maddie had no idea what she was getting herself into.  Everything he had done in his life, up to this point, had been driven by the loss of his father—she had known this better than anyone had.  Following Harm to Russia, she was a first-hand witness to his elation when there was a glimmer of hope he could still be alive—and she was there to comfort him during the painful realization that he had died, nearly eleven years after he was shot down.

 

That memory was so vivid she could practically feel the crisp air and hear the Russian woman’s thick dialect.  Translating those words for Harm was probably the hardest thing she’s ever had to do—for anybody.  With every sentence she spoke, she could feel his heart breaking, his hopes crushed.  Even though he learned his father died a hero—saving the woman from a certain death—it could never replace the anguish he felt at that very moment.

 

Looking over at him now, she worried what opening this Pandora’s Box of heartache would do to him.  In recent years, he didn’t discuss it much.  But Mac always knew the moment his blue eyes would cloud over, he was succumbing to those painful memories.  Right now, his brilliant eyes were cast downward.  That familiar ache of loss was back.  She knew he was feeling it because the ache consumed her as well.  Just as Mac was about to put a stop to it all, Harm spoke.  The catch in his voice as he started to speak again left Mac struggling to keep her emotions under control.

 

“Six—I was six years old.” Harm’s voice drifted off as the words caught in his throat.  “His plane was shot down over Vietnam on Christmas Eve, 1969.”  He gently fingered the rim of the empty glass he held in his hand.  Its smoothness had become sort of an amulet for him, reminding him of smooth marble that surrounded his father’s name on The Wall—a place where he would always find comfort.

 

“So, he was a pilot,” Maddie continued, matching the somber tone of his voice with a soothing, gentle one. Getting emotionally wrapped up in their stories was making her vulnerable.  Yet again, she was coming precariously close to that fine line of counselor she walked.  Looking at the man sitting in front of her, she saw him as a fatherless boy, lost in a turbulent sea of emotions.  

 

“Yeah—I always knew I wanted to be just like him when I grew up.” He paused for a moment, and then said with a sad smile, “He was my hero.”   Closing his eyes, he could picture himself—the young boy seated in a fighter jet, his father standing by his side—pride beaming on his face.  It was one of his greatest and fondest memories of him. One that he swore he would never forget.

 

Harm stood up and walked over to the table in the corner where the pitcher of water sat, and poured another glass.  He wasn’t thirsty; he just needed a distraction to compose himself.  Maddie’s latest venture into his past was eliciting emotions he had kept in the corner of his heart marked ‘classified’.  Okay, so those close to him, especially Mac, knew about his father and all the heartache that came with it.  Hell, she lived it by following him to Russia—no one else would have ever done that for him.   It was probably that moment that solidified their bond with one another.

 

But Maddie—she was just a stranger who probably could tell you how to feel about it, without truly understanding what it was like to experience it.  Taking a drink from the glass, Harm suddenly snapped back to the reality of the moment, angry, yet curious, about Maddie’s present line of questioning. 

 

“How does this fit in to my relationships with Annie?”  Try as he may to keep the acidity out of his words, he knew he had failed miserably.  He stood across the room from Maddie, his stance challenging her—daring her—to tell him what or how he was supposed to feel about losing his father.

 

“When you were talking about Annie, you told me that you identified with Josh since he lost his father, like you had.”

 

“But I still don’t get where it fits in,” his blue eyes flashing with resentment.  He felt this discussion of his father was becoming sacrilegious to his memory.

 

Mac was now on the edge of her seat, prepared to put an end to the torture-Harm conversation, “Maddie . . .” she began, before the counselor put a stop to it with a wave of her hand.  Fine, I hope you know what you’re getting into, Mac thought, sitting back against the sofa, her arms crossed.  If Harm got pissed, she wasn’t stopping him this time.

 

Although she hated interrupting Mac from interjecting whatever it was she wanted to say, Maddie knew she needed Harm to see her point.  She wasn’t quite sure how to get him to understand without telling him outright.  After considering her options, Maddie thought it was best to let him tell her more about his father through discussion points on his relationship with Annie.

 

“Let’s go back for a moment.  How long did your relationship with Annie last?”

 

Shrugging his shoulders, Harm said, “I don’t know exactly—maybe a few months.” 

 

Moving back across the room, Harm sat down on the sofa, just a little closer to Mac than he had before.  The warmth of her concerned smile seemed to beckon him beside her.  Right now, he needed an ally in all this discussion.  And this Marine, this best friend, the one person who went with him farther than anyone he ever knew, was the only person who could hold him together when he felt like falling apart.  She was probably the one and only thing keeping him from ending all this here and now.  And as she touched his arm, her energy flooded his body, giving strength to his soul. 

 

Pressing on, Maddie asked, “Who ended the relationship?”

 

“Annie did,” he said stoically, deciding he would cooperate with Maddie. 

 

“What happened that made her end it?”

 

“I had taken Josh on a, um, sailing trip,” he said without looking up from the glass he still held in his hands.

 

“She ended it over a sailing trip you took her son on?” Maddie asked, figuring by Harm’s hesitation that there was more to this story.

 

“Well, it wasn’t exactly just a sailing trip.  It was a Tiger Cruise on a US Navy frigate.”

 

“What was so bad about that?”

 

“Well, Annie didn’t want Josh around anything Navy.  I didn’t think she’d approve, so I sort of glossed over the truth,” Harm replied.  Approve?  She would have blown a gasket if I told her, he thought.

 

“Glossed over the truth?” a confused Maddie asked.

 

“Yeah—I told her I was taking Josh sailing for the weekend to Biscayne Bay.”

 

“And you didn’t tell her the truth because . . .”

 

“Because of how Luke died, the last thing Annie wanted for Josh was a life in the military, let alone to be around it.  The boy was so fascinated with all of it.  It was in his blood—he wanted to be just like his father.  So I took him—I didn’t see how it would hurt anything.” 

 

Mac remembered trying to keep Annie calm during the whole ordeal.  In a sense, Annie’s greatest fear was coming true—Josh was realizing his dream of being like his dad—the one thing she tried her hardest to prevent.  Despite Harm’s lie, Mac knew his intentions were never to hurt Josh or turn him against his mother.  Being blindsided by his dreams and reliving them through Josh, Harm felt he was doing the right thing at the time.  Telling Annie that was one thing, getting her to believe it was an insurmountable task. 

 

“How did you tell her about the trip?”

 

Harm paused, recalling the event, “Well, she found out from the Admiral.  Um, the trip turned out to be more than we bargained for.  We were hijacked by Cuban terrorists. Nothing happened to us; we were fine, despite the whole ordeal.”

 

“Is there anything that you do that isn’t dangerous?” Maddie asked, completely flabbergasted by this man’s experiences.

 

Harm blushed for a second, “Uh, well, the courtroom is probably the least dangerous—more or less.”  That is if you don’t fire a weapon at the ceiling, he mused.

 

Maddie shook her head and muttered an “unbelievable” before composing herself to continue.  As she made notes in their chart, she silently chastised herself to keep her remarks to herself.

 

“Anyway, so Annie ended the relationship because you lied,” she recapped, trying to put her focus on where it belonged.

 

“Well, if you put it that way, yeah.”  Harm took a deep breath and set his glass down on the coffee table in front of him.  Thinking for a moment, he added, “She felt I turned her son against her.  Looking back, it—deceiving her—wasn’t the best decision.  I figured we’d go and then tell her about it afterward.  I regret lying to her.  But, I didn’t want Josh to be afraid of life like Annie was.”

 

“Did that make it right?”

 

“I guess not.  I know how it feels to want to be so much like your dad.  Josh wanted to be like his dad too.  I didn’t want to see him deprived of that experience,” Harm’s voice faded off as his words were starting to sink in.  He finally understood the point that Maddie was trying to drive home. 

 

“I see,” Harm uttered softly.  He sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands.  In all these years, he thought he wanted to be with Annie because of her, when in fact all along it was because of Josh.  He was reliving his life through Josh.  Harm knew he could never replace Luke as Josh’s father—he never tried to do that.  He remembered his first thoughts after Annie walked out the door, ‘What about Josh?’  And seeing the confused look on the boy’s face as he left the bullpen tore at his heart.  All the pain he felt afterward was a result of the loss of Josh, not Annie. 

 

Watching Harm’s emotions play out on his face, Maddie wondered if she should continue for today.  In reality, their session was over time-wise.  However, considering that there was progress afoot, she felt continuing was probably in his—their—best interest.  And considering her 12:15 appointment had the forethought to cancel, now was as good a time as any.

 

“I know our session is about over.  But, in the interest of progress, I would like to continue if that’s okay with the both of you,” Maddie asked, hoping that they would agree.

 

Mac turned to Harm and in the smallest of voices asked, “You okay with this?” again resting her hand on his arm.

 

Harm looked at her, “Only if you’ll stay with me,” he said softly, sending the message to her that she was wanted and needed in his life.  It caught her by surprise when he caressed her hand as it rested on his arm.  Unable to find the words, she nodded her head, her eyes never leaving his.

 

Maddie observed the exchange between the two officers—Mac’s concerned tenderness and Harm’s willing acquiescence—with a new appreciation for their relationship, the one neither could see they were already in.  Unconditional love isn’t as elusive as they think it is, she mused.

 

In the beginning, she wasn’t sure what discussing Harm’s previous relationships would do to them.  Sure, he reacted like any normal man having his love-life dissected.  But, as of this moment, it didn’t seem to faze Mac all that much.  The only thing that seemed to upset her was the discussion of Harm’s father, of which she was sure, was a protective mechanism.  It had become quite apparent to Maddie that Harm and Mac protected each other intuitively, especially when the emotional well-being of the other was on the line. 

 

Shuffling through the pages in their file, Maddie sought a clean sheet of paper to write on.  They had only been seeing her for a week and now their folder was thicker than most clients’ files were.  She was certain that if they were to continue for a while, they’d probably need their own drawer in the file cabinet.

 

After organizing herself briefly, Maddie looked at Harm thoughtfully, wondering how to continue this discussion.  Her earlier little outburst about his dangerous encounters left her feeling a little embarrassed.  Usually her interjections into clients’ sessions were thought provoking, clinical observations—not childish comments.  Resolving to keep the banter to a minimum, she continued with a renewed confidence in her abilities.

 

“Tell me about losing your father,” she said gently.

 

Harm sighed and made himself as comfortable as he could on the sofa, resting his right ankle on top of his left thigh.  He knew he wasn’t going to get out of this room without further talk of his father.  Silently he hoped it would be over with quickly, if not painlessly.  He was mentally exhausted already with the course of events so far today.  For the first time in years, he longed for an afternoon nap to clear his head.

 

Mac braced herself. She wasn’t sure where Maddie was taking all this.  What she did know—nothing could drag her from this room and Harm’s side.  He needed her to help him get through this, just as he did in Russia.   And damn it, I am not leaving him, she thought.

 

“Like I said before,” Harm began with a deep breath, “Dad was shot down Christmas Eve, 1969, when I was six.  The Navy had listed him as MIA.  For the first year or so, every time the phone would ring or there was a knock on the door, we wondered if it was him, coming home.”

 

Sighing a little while he recalled that time in his life, he continued, “Mom had some tapes he had sent, along with some letters.  She let me listen to them and read them—I knew them by heart—every last syllable.  Whenever I closed my eyes, I could hear his voice clearly in my head.  As time went on, Mom had resigned herself that he wasn’t coming back.”

 

Maddie leaned forward, completely absorbed by Harm’s story.  She listened intently to his voice fraught with emotion, knowing that talking about all this was agonizing for him.  If it were not for his bond with Josh, this probably would never have been brought up.  But hearing how he spoke of his father, Maddie was getting the feeling that his dad was quite the driving force in his life—not just as a child but as an adult too.

 

Maddie hated to ask her next question, but she had to. “Did they ever find him?” 

 

“No,” he replied almost inaudibly.  Harm was absentmindedly playing with his pant leg, keeping his eyes cast downward.  He sighed and then looked over at Mac, finding her watching him attentively.  Comforted by her presence, he managed a slight smile before he continued.

 

“Eventually any MIA were declared KIA by the government,” he continued.  “Mom kept up hope for as long as she could.  We started getting on with our lives . . . at least she did.  Mom started dating again and eventually remarried—Frank—my stepfather.”  Harm lingered in his thoughts for a moment, and then said, “I didn’t listen to the tapes as much when I got older—I didn’t have to.”

 

“Was that hard for you—your mother remarrying?”

 

“Yeah, it was.  In my mind, Dad was still alive and . . . out there somewhere.  I couldn’t believe that my mom had given up hope and found someone else.  When I turned sixteen, I ran off to Southeast Asia to try to find him.”

 

Maddie swallowed hard to avoid choking up.  Hearing that as a teenager, he went in search of his lost father tore at her heart.  She bit the inside of her cheek to keep her emotions where they belonged.  Allowing herself to become so emotionally attached to them was beginning to take its toll on her.   

 

Pulling herself together quickly, she continued, “What made you want to do that?”

 

For a moment, Harm thought about how he would answer that, distractedly picking lint from his pants to keep himself from making eye-contact with her.  It wasn’t that he didn’t know the answer—he did—actually explaining it was a different story.  What drove him then was the very same instinct that drew him to Russia in 1998. 

 

Speaking with conviction, Harm answered Maddie’s question, “Something in my gut—in my heart—told me he was still alive.  I just had to act on it.” 

 

“You didn’t find him, did you?”  Maddie had surmised that he didn’t, but she still needed him to acknowledge her question.

 

“No,” he replied softly. 

 

“Where did that leave your relationship with your stepfather?”

 

Harm knew how to answer to this one immediately.  It wasn’t until recently that they had come to terms with the past and put it to rest. But those years in between were far from smooth sailing.

 

“It was tense.  Actually, at the time, I had resented him for marrying my mother.  After that, Frank and I never had a close relationship—mostly my fault, I guess.  Yet, I still respected him—because that’s what I was taught to do.”

 

Making note of this, Maddie then asked, “Did you resent your mother?”

 

Harm searched his heart, trying to find an honest answer.  “I guess I did to some extent.  She gave up the hope she had instilled in me.  I still had it and . . . she lost it,” he said with a wave of his hand for emphasis.

 

Pausing for a moment, he gave more thought to what he had said about his mom.  Repositioning his legs, he added, “I know now she needed to get on with her life.  I just didn’t understand that then.”

 

To some extent, Mac had known most of what Harm was telling Maddie—Trish remarrying, his relationship with Frank.  Yet, hearing him use the word ‘resent’, astounded her.  She had used it quite commonly to describe her own childhood, but it wasn’t something she ever thought she’d hear Harm say about his mother and step-father.  She admired him for being so honest about his life.  Part of her expected him to be closed to this type of discussion, yet he surprised her with an openness she hadn’t seen in a very long time.

 

Maddie wasn’t shocked to hear how Harm felt about his mom and step-father.  The loss of his father turned his world upside down in an instant.  Righting it would take longer. She wondered for a moment if there was some underlying abandonment issues—not the physical kind, but the emotional ones that leave you feeling disconnected and alone.

 

Being an only child, it was just Harm and his mother in those early years after his father had died.  They probably had developed a closeness—a bond—that he felt she had broken when she married Frank, Maddie surmised, making a few notes.  A mother is the first woman a boy loves.  If he feels that he has lost that love to another man, it—in all likelihood—might make him feel unworthy of another woman’s love.  Could this be Harm in a nut-shell?  Rather than open this can of worms right now, Maddie decided to continue.

 

“What happened after you came back from Southeast Asia?”

 

“I did my best to get on with my life,” Harm replied.  “I had decided to try for an appointment to Annapolis.  It was something that I had known I wanted to do—because of my father.  I needed to follow in his footsteps.”

 

“When did you decide that it was time to stop believing he was alive?”

 

Maddie’s question caught him off guard a little.  In a matter of seconds, he was spiraling back through time to the exact moment he found out.  All those years, hoping and searching and wishing came to a jarring halt on a mountaintop in Russia one sunny afternoon.  The only thing he could liken the experience to was his ramp strike—except the crushing pain he had felt was an all-consuming one centered in his heart. 

 

“The day that I was told he was dead . . . four and a half years ago,” he said in an anguished whisper.

 

Harm leaned forward, burying his face in his hands.  Mac moved instinctively with him, moving her body closer to his, her left hand soothingly caressing his hair, moving down to his back.  The tears his body had refused to let him shed were pooling in her eyes. 

 

“Oh my God,” Maddie muttered to herself disbelievingly, covering her mouth with her hand.   Suddenly, she realized that she was right—the loss of his father was the compass that directed his life.  She watched as Mac gently comforted him, whispering something inaudible into his ear.  Harm nodded his head in reply to whatever it was she had said to him.  He then leaned back against the sofa, composing himself.

 

Before Maddie could press him for further details, Harm was speaking again, his voice stronger than before.  She was certain that Mac’s presence—the love and concern she had shown—was the impetus for him to get through this.

 

“I had found some documents while investigating the death of a Navy pilot in 1997. It was a list of MIA’s and POW’s supposedly still alive and in Russia under KGB control.”  Harm paused to take a breath, “My dad’s name was on that list.”

 

“Incredible,” Maddie sighed, leaning back against her chair, closing the file on her lap.  She couldn’t write now to save her life.  More so, she was afraid that if she looked away, she’d miss a key element to his story.

 

“Several months later—in 1998—I was given a photograph of my dad.  Written on the back was ‘This one’s real’. It was all the proof that I needed that he could still be alive.”

 

Maddie felt like she had been dropped right in the middle of the greatest mystery novel ever written.  “What did you do?” she gasped, trying to keep her heart from pounding in her chest.

 

“I went to Russia to find out if it was true—to find him.  If he was alive, I wasn’t leaving until I found him.  There was no way in hell I was leaving him behind again.”

 

Harm recalled how he had lied to the Admiral so he could secure time off to go to California to see his mom.  He needed to make her understand that the possibility existed that his dad was still alive.   When he showed his mother the picture of his father, he pretty much had guessed what her reaction would be and received just the same. 

 

Let it go, Harm.

 

I can’t, Mom.

 

Unable to bear the thought of reliving those years after her husband—his father—had died, she ran from him, upset and crying, leaving him alone on the patio with his step-father, Frank.  What he wasn’t prepared for was the support he received from Frank.

 

You’re the only son I ever had.  Let me help you.

 

Harm could see how much Frank loved him despite the fact he knew that he could never replace his father.  He remembered how he told Josh at one time that he never gave his step-father a chance.  Looking back now, he wondered if he had, would things have been different. 

 

Trying to grasp everything he was telling her, Maddie fiddled with the pencil she had been holding in her hand, twirling it and then sticking it behind her ear.  Even though she found what she was hearing hard to believe, she knew that there was no way in hell anyone could have had such an adventure like this one.  Well, of course with the exception of Harmon Rabb Jr., she thought.

 

Needing to know more of the story, Maddie asked, “So you went to Russia alone to find your father?”

 

Harm looked at Mac as he answered Maddie’s question, “Uh, no, Mac was with me.  She followed me to the airport.”

 

“You followed him?” Maddie asked, staring at Mac with a flabbergasted look on her face.  Unbelievable, she thought to herself—quietly this time.  She goes to Russia with him and he lets her—and they deny having any type of a relationship! 

 

“I couldn’t let him go alone,” Mac responded honestly. “Besides, the Admiral thought it was for the best as well, unofficially of course.  I spoke the language and . . . someone needed to watch Harm’s six,” she said with a quick glance in Harm’s direction with a sly grin.  Harm chuckled as he remembered her ‘appearance’ on the plane. Wild horses wouldn’t have dragged her off that plane, he mused.

 

“And that compelled you to go with him?  Didn’t you worry about the danger involved?  What if things turned out badly?” Maddie was throwing questions at Mac rapid-fire, her hands gesturing as she did so, nearly causing their file to go flying across the room. 

 

Mac felt a little embarrassed by the commotion Maddie was making over the whole issue.  Wanting to follow Harm to Russia wasn’t something she had thought twice about.  Truthfully, she hadn’t thought—she reacted.  Her place was with him despite the danger.  In fact, she’d gone because of the danger—to protect him.

 

Deciding Maddie needed a little more background, Harm gave her the short-story version of the trip to Russia—Parlovsky, Alexi, Falcon, stealing the Mig-29 and the ejection from it after being shot down, the Gypsy brother and sister, trekking across Russia to find the answers to questions haunting him.  It amused him to some extent watching the expressions on Maddie’s face as he recounted his—their—tale.  It reminded him of the first time Mac rode in an F-14 with him—she looked nauseous yet exhilarated.

 

Comprehending all this was starting to give Maddie a major-league headache.  It was like trying to read a Tom Clancy novel written in a foreign language—it was maddening as hell.  She rubbed her temples in an attempt to make the throbbing go away before deciding that it wouldn’t without the help of some aspirin.

 

“Excuse me a minute,” she said to Harm and Mac as she rose from her chair and headed toward her desk.  Reaching into the top drawer, she pulled the economy sized bottle out and quickly retrieved the capsules.  In one swift motion, she popped them into her mouth and quickly chugged some water from a glass on her desk.  Her clients watched this little scene with confusion, then amusement. 

 

“See what you’ve done,” Mac whispered to Harm with the slightest touch of humor.

 

“Me? All I did was tell her about our trip to Russia . . . uh, I see your point,” he replied with a raised eyebrow and a smile. 

 

Mac’s attempt at humor helped take the edge off.   For the first time since all this discussion about his father started, Harm felt somewhat relaxed and relieved.  Even though it was, at times, too heartbreaking to bear, he made it past the hard stuff unscathed.  Having her by his side—supporting him—was exactly what he needed to get him through all this.  He reached over and grasped her hand in his, giving it a quick squeeze before releasing it. 

 

“Thanks,” he said warmly to her, his blue eyes dancing.

 

“For what?” Mac asked with a curious look.

 

“For putting up with me.”

 

“It’s in the job description,” she replied, matching the soft smile on his face with one of her own. 

 

Having returned to her chair, Maddie took a deep breath and picked up their file she had set on the floor.  I need to pull myself together ASAP, she thought.  This session will end up being a wash if I don’t focus.   Opening their file, she skimmed over her earlier notes, the before-Russia part—Annie and Josh—and struggled to put a timeline to all this. 

 

Judging by everything Harm had told her, this put his emotional struggle with his MIA father about the time he was seeing Annie—give or take a few months.  In all probability, the uncertainty about his father and his relationship with Annie and Josh happened about the same time, giving weight to her theory that Harm was trying to rewrite history with Josh.  If she was correct, he went to Russia after he and Annie broke up.  How very interesting, she thought, making note of it in the file.

 

“Why don’t you continue, Harm,” Maddie said with a calm and controlled voice, unlike her previous remarks.

 

He went on, “Eventually we met up with a woman in rural Russia who knew my father.  Since she spoke only Russian, Mac translated for me.  She told us the story of how he came to live with her and her brother.  They never knew his name since he didn’t speak the language and they didn’t know English.”

 

“Then how did she know he was your father?” Maddie queried.

 

“The resemblance—she realized that I must be his son because I looked like him.  Through Mac’s interpretation, I found out from her that Dad died saving her from Russian soldiers who had attacked her.  Her brother buried the bodies so they wouldn’t be found—somewhere deep in the forest.  She didn’t know where because her brother had died since then.”  Harm was able to relate this part of the story effortlessly, as if he were retelling a mythical epic he had read—except he had lived it.

 

“How did that make you feel?”

 

“I was devastated.  All those years I knew he had to be alive—he was.  But he died honorably—just as he lived.  Two years later, I found out that I wasn’t the only son he left behind.  He had a relationship with a woman who had given him a son after his death—my brother, Sergei.”

 

“Your father had a relationship with a Russian woman?” Maddie asked in disbelief.

 

“I guess he knew he would never come home.  He had told my mother in a tape—one I hadn’t listened to until before I went to Russia—for her to go on with her life if anything had happened to him.  She did, and I guess he did too.”

 

“How did you feel when you found out you had brother?”

 

“At the time, I was confused.  Maybe a little hurt.  But all my life my father was this . . . this hero to me.  I guess it helped me to realize he was more human than I allowed him to be.”

 

“How do you feel about him today?”

 

“He’s my brother—I love him.”

 

Mac had been watching Harm as he continued to tell Maddie about his dad and Sergei.  She could tell by the wistful look on his face that he was probably coming to terms with all of this as he spoke to Maddie.  Sergei was an important part of his life now—the one lasting connection to his father.  It was almost as if his father was giving him something to cling onto from beyond the grave. 

 

“How did your mother react to the existence of Sergei?”

 

“I didn’t tell her right away—after I had found out.  I might have never told her if circumstances didn’t force me to do it.  When I did, she took it quite well.  What had upset her most was knowing my dad had missed out on much of my life.  I think that hurt her more than anything.”

 

Mac looked over at Harm; his voice was now sounding tired and, frankly, he looked rather exhausted—much like she had felt after her discussion about her father.  This session had truly become an emotional ride from hell for all of them.  For his sake, she had hoped that they would end this session soon.  In her estimation, they were nearing the two hour mark with Maddie.  Actually, an hour fifty-three to be exact.  The bill for this session alone could buy Maddie several cases of those aspirin, she mused.  Watching Maddie make notes in their file, Mac wondered what the next step was going to be today.

 

Maddie looked like she’d survived a tornado and felt like she’d ran a marathon—wearing combat boots.  Her neatly coifed hair had become ragged from her bad habit of tucking the pencil behind her ear.  She had repositioned it so many times, she was sure she’d get lead poisoning.  Having finished writing the last of her observations, she checked her watch and decided that they all probably had had enough today—herself included.  

 

Scanning her pages of notes briefly, she thought, this is true progress.  Harm not only discussed his father and his obsession with finding him, but he also came to the realization that his relationship with Annie and Josh was born from this obsession with the loss of his father.  But, more importantly, the interaction between Harm and Mac was paramount in this session—their emotional closeness was quite apparent.  Actions speak louder than words, she thought, and I hope it’s going off like gongs in their heads.

 

Maddie knew continuing the session was out of the question for many reasons, one of which was the emotional exhaustion she could see written all over Harm’s face.  Now the difficult decision of when to schedule them for their next session lay in front of her.  She had planned a long weekend to spend time with her sister, but letting them go so long between appointments, especially when progress had been made, could prove to be detrimental to the entire therapeutic process. Mulling over her plans for tomorrow morning, she figured if she got up early, she could squeeze them in for an hour without disrupting the day. 

 

Finally making her decision, she said, “We’ve made quite a bit of progress today.  In light of all this, I’m suggesting we get together tomorrow morning.”

 

The duo looked at one another; Mac shrugged her shoulders saying, “It’s okay with me.  Harm . . .”

 

“It’s fine with me too,” he said, nodding his head in agreement.   Looking in Maddie’s direction, he asked, “Any time in particular?”

 

“How’s eight o’clock?”

 

Harm opened his mouth, ready to challenge the early morning time, when Mac spoke up.

 

“Suck it up, Sailor.”

 

He chuckled, shook his head and said, “Fine by me.”

 

“Great!” Maddie said.  She didn’t bother to write it down because there was no way in hell she was forgetting about this session.  Setting down their file on the floor, she stood up, straightening her sweater and attempting to smooth out her hair.

 

Harm and Mac stood as well.  She grabbed her purse, and they both slipped on their coats.  Maddie was already at the door, opening it, when they had moved from behind the coffee table.

 

“Thanks Maddie,” Harm said, extending his hand to her. 

 

Maddie accepted his gesture, smiling, “You made a lot of progress today, Harm.  Go home and get some rest, okay?”

 

Mac also grasped Maddie’s hand, giving a genuine “Thank you.”  Maddie knew there was more than just gratitude in those two words.  Considering Mac’s little revelation earlier, she was sure she was grateful for the kept secret as well.

 

Once the two had moved into the outer office and then out the door into the hallway, Maddie retreated to her office.  Kicking off her slippers, she laid down on the sofa with a thud and a sigh.  She closed her eyes and then covered her face with her hands, grateful that her clients were finished for today.  It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy their witty repartee or their adventures—she found them to be quite entertaining—professionally speaking, that is.  Their sessions were exhausting her—mentally and physically.  But, at least they were going in the right direction.  “Yeah,” she said with a laugh, “right into a hotel room—a locked hotel room.”

 

Seconds later, she heard the soft tinkling of a bell from a certain feline who had been in hiding most of their session.  Just as swiftly as he came into the room, he had jumped up onto the sofa, beginning his trek up to Maddie’s chest.

 

“Oh, Zolly,” she groaned, “You’re not as light as you used to be.”

 

The furry creature laid out straight on her chest, nuzzling her hands covering her face.  He chirped and meowed and head butted her until she gave in and petted him.  Maddie rolled onto her side to move him onto the sofa next to her, rather than have 15 pounds of cat on top of her.

 

“So, Zoloft, you abandoned me today.  I could have used some support in here.  Obviously your nap comes first, huh?” she said, rubbing him behind the ears.

 

Checking her watch, she realized she still had a few appointments left in the day, with the next one due at any moment.  Gently shooing Zoloft off the sofa, she sat up and decided a trip to the bathroom was a priority to tidy up her appearance. 

 

“I wonder how many more grey hairs they gave me today,” she said fingering the loose strands of hair as she walked into her private bathroom.

 

~~~~

 

Harm and Mac were more than ready to leave Maddie’s office.  Harm’s lanky frame ached from having sat too long on a sofa clearly made for the female frame.  And Mac—she felt like she was jet-lagged; the lack of a decent night’s sleep was finally catching up with her. Walking out into the hallway, Harm held the door for her.  She slung the strap from her purse over her left shoulder and stuffed her hands in her coat pockets. Together they began the trek down the hall to the stairwell.  Neither had spoken to the other since their good-byes to Maddie in her office, both being absorbed in their thoughts to some degree. 

 

As they walked, Mac watched Harm zip his jacket and reach into his pocket for his keys.  The weary look on his face didn’t nearly tell the emotions that held his thoughts captive now.  He knew Maddie was just doing her job, delving into his past like that.  Part of him was relieved he had talked about his father—discussing feelings he had never told anyone.  Some of it actually felt good to get out into the open, yet he still couldn’t help but feel angry.  The discussion with Maddie was nagging at him. He thought he could keep what occurred in that room—in that room—but it wasn’t going to happen.  The last thing he wanted to do was bring it all home with him.  But as his thoughts became more of a jumbled ball in his head, he knew there was no way around it.

 

“Harm?” Mac called his name but noticed he wasn’t hearing her.  He looked a million miles away, his eyes almost trance-like as he continued down the hall, reaching the stairwell ahead of her, and automatically opening the door for her. 

 

“Harm . . .” Mac said again, a little more loudly, grabbing his arm as well.

 

Having been so preoccupied with his thoughts, Harm snapped his head around, jolted back to reality, “Huh?  What?” he said sharply, not realizing the tone of his voice until the words were out of his mouth and he could hear them echoing off the white plaster walls.

 

“For a minute there I thought I lost you.  What’s wrong?” Mac asked, taking his outburst in stride.  You’re still in that session, aren’t you, she thought, concerned.

 

He started to say ‘nothing’, but thought better of it.  Mac had become quite adept at reading his diversionary tactics over the years. He knew there would be no getting past this one.  Sighing, he leaned against the open door and distractedly ran his hand through his hair. 

 

“It’s been a helluva day, hasn’t it,” he said, not knowing where to start or what to say.

 

Mac rested her hand on his arm, “Yeah, it has . . . are you okay?” She searched his blue eyes, trying to read his emotions and put how he felt into perspective.   

 

Harm snickered a little, “I feel like I punched out again.” 

 

He stood there, just looking at her—studying her face and her smile—wondering why she had stuck with him all this time.  She seemed to understand him—and what searching for his father had meant to him.  Retelling the story to Maddie made him realize how dangerous it was—not just for him—but for Mac, too.  She had tried to reason with him and get him to understand how their lives were in jeopardy. 

 

You can quit. I can't. My father is out there somewhere and I'm going to find him.


 Or die trying?


 Or die trying. But you shouldn't. You've come with me farther than anyone I know. I'll never forget that Mac.

 

Even though he needed her there with him, he still had tried to give her the out he thought she was looking for and she didn’t take it.  Looking back now, he knew that she had only their best interest at heart.  I always think with my heart and my emotions, and she thinks with her head.  I guess that’s why we’re so good together. 

 

Reaching over to her, he traced a line along her jaw with his finger, then cupped her face with his hand, relishing the feel of her skin against his.

 

“Thanks,” he said quietly.

 

With a smile, she replied, “You said that already.”

 

“I don’t say it enough,” he said tenderly, his voice husky with emotion.

 

The deepness and inflection of his voice made Mac catch her breath.  His touch had made her tingle and her heart race, yet she could feel the blush in her cheeks.  For all his exasperating and belligerent traits that drove her crazy, he more than made up for it with his tenderness.

 

The sound of approaching feet on the stairs broke the moment the two had become lost in.  Turning around, Harm was suddenly face to face with an elderly woman, carrying a small Yorkshire terrier on her arm.  Both dog and owner wore matching accessories—the dog wearing a diamond studded collar that was a smaller replica of his owner’s necklace.

 

“Excuse me, young man,“ she said with a thick Southern drawl, “I don’t want to interrupt whatever you two are engaged in, but I’m late for my appointment.”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Harm said, backing away to give the woman some room to walk through the doorway, holding the door for her as any gentleman would.

 

“What a cute dog,” Mac said, reaching out to pet it, only to be met with a snarl and a high-pitched bark that was more like a yap.  As quickly as she reached out, Mac snatched her hand back with surprise, hoping all her fingers were intact.

 

“He doesn’t like cat people, do you precious,” she cooed to the animal as she sauntered past a stunned Harm and Mac.

 

“I hope she isn’t Maddie’s next appointment,” Mac said.

 

“Why?” asked Harm, not catching the connection she was implying.

 

“In a word—Zolly.  He’d have that dog for lunch and floss his teeth with that diamond collar,” she joked.

 

The couple lingered in the hallway and laughed at the scenario Mac had described.  Then they both cringed, watching as the woman entered Maddie’s office, dog in tow.  Not wanting to be around when the fur started flying, they decided to leave—in a hurry.

 

****

 

As they reached the lower level of the building, Harm checked his watch.  It was now past one o’clock.  The afternoon sun was finally winning the war with the earlier rain clouds, attempting to dry the streets in the still-damp autumn air. 

 

Not having eaten since breakfast at the diner, he was about to suggest a late lunch when he saw Mac stifle a yawn.  That nightmare deprived her of more sleep than she’d ever admit, he thought.

 

“Are you tired?” he asked, stating the obvious.

 

“That’s an understatement,” Mac replied with another yawn, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. 

 

“I was going to suggest lunch, but I think we’re both exhausted,” he said honestly, longing for the sofa and at least a two hour nap.  He realized now exactly how Mac had felt yesterday after discussing her father, because today he felt it in every inch of his body.

 

“Maybe a rain check?” Mac asked as they crossed the street to his SUV. 

 

“I think I can manage that,” he said with a smile, holding the door open for her, and then shutting it gently once she was inside.  He walked around to the other side and slid in the seat, placing his keys in the ignition.  Glancing over at his passenger, her head tilted back against the seat with her eyes shut, he realized she had never looked more beautiful to him.