~~~Hello,
Goodbye~~~
With a turn of the
key and a quick shift in gears, Harm lurched the SUV into motion, beginning
their trek back to Mac’s apartment. He
briefly turned on the wipers to brush the leaves off the windshield that the
earlier rain had brought down from the trees.
The sun had finally won the battle with the clouds, glistening off the
raindrops that speckled the hood of the vehicle. Harm felt a sense of relief that the rain had
passed, but wondered too if it was because the session was finally over. Probably a little of both, he thought.
In his opinion, the
day had worn on long enough, beginning with the panicked call from Mac in the
middle of the night. It’s not that he
minded—he didn’t. He was thankful he
could be there for her when she needed him most. Just like she had been there for him in
Mulling the session
over again, he realized that some of his earlier ambivalence about discussing
his father had faded into quiet assent as the session had pressed on. Walking out of that office, he had wavered
between anger and acceptance, finally settling on the latter. Yet he couldn’t dismiss the empty feeling it
had unexpectedly given him.
Never in a million
years did he think that his relationship with his father—his parents—had
anything remotely to do with his relationships with women. Throughout the
session, Maddie had opened his eyes to the prospect that his relationship with
Annie and Josh had been fueled by the loss of his father. Looking back now, he knew with certainty that
she was right; he was trying to relive his life then. He wondered if Annie had thought the same
thing as well. She probably never made
the connection, especially not having known about his obsession with his
father. After the Tiger Cruise incident,
they never spoke again. Perhaps it’s better
that way, he thought.
Harm’s mind was
mired in quicksand as he struggled with all that had transpired today. Dad was my hero—he will always be my
hero. I wish I could change it all, but
I can’t rewrite history . . . Mom went
on with her life, as I should have.
Holding it against her—unintentionally or not—was wrong. It’s taken most of my life for me to see
that, he thought remorsefully . . . And
Frank—I never gave him the love he deserved.
He tried to be part of my life and I shut him out. I didn’t want him filling my father’s
shoes. Yet, he did a damn good job of
filling his own, despite me.
Feeling the warmth
of eyes upon him, Harm glanced over in Mac’s direction to find her watching him
intently.
“Hey . . . I
thought you were sleeping,” he said.
“Can’t. It’s too noisy in here.”
“Uh, what noise . .
.” he asked confused. When they had
gotten into the car, he hadn’t turned on the radio. And the wipers—he’d long since turned them
off. Still, he couldn’t understand what
Mac was saying to him.
“The noise in your
head,” she replied with a gentle smile.
Nearing the
intersection, the traffic light turned red and Harm slowed the vehicle to a
stop. He then looked over at Mac,
puzzled, still trying to understand what she meant.
“You’ve been
thinking about the session with Maddie,” she simply stated.
“How did you know?”
he asked, giving her a sidelong glance, yet trying to keep his eye on the
light.
“After all these
years I can tell when something is bothering you,” Mac replied.
“So, you’re a mind
reader too?”
“No.”
“Then how . . .”
came the confused response. I wonder
what other talents she possesses besides that time thing she does and now this,
he mused, eyeing her curiously.
“You were drumming
your fingers on the steering wheel,” she said.
“And of course the furrowed brow is always a dead giveaway.”
Harm snickered, “I
didn’t realize I was that transparent.”
“Not always. Although, sometimes I wish you were,” she
said wistfully. Sometimes you’re as
clear as mud, she thought.
Harm was about to
question her ‘wish you were’ comment, but the blaring of a horn from behind him
jolted him like a lightening bolt. The
previously red light was now green, as the impatient driver so bluntly reminded
him. He waved his hand in acknowledgement,
ever so slightly embarrassed by his inattentiveness.
Mac tried to
suppress a laugh at his distraction. She
was relieved that they were finding some humor in the course of the day,
despite its issues. Issues—there were
plenty of them. She had longed to talk
to him about the session with Maddie, and other things. Thinking better of it, she decided to shelve
it to a time when they were both in a better frame of mind. Harm would rehash the day eventually—it was
in his nature. No amount of pleading would
stop him. She just hoped he didn’t dwell
on it too much, for his sake. Yet, she
still needed to hear from him that he was okay.
“Harm . . .”
“Yeah.”
“You are all right,
aren’t you?”
“What do you mean?”
“I know Maddie
really pushed you into talking about your dad. I just hope that you understand
that she’s only trying to help us.”
Harm mulled over
her words. He really didn’t hold all
this against Maddie—it is her job.
Although, he was beginning to wonder if Mac had thought it was her fault
they were in this situation—the counseling—to begin with.
Baby, it’s not your
fault, he thought with a sigh, it’s just as much my fault. He out-and-out didn’t want to broach this
subject with her for fear she’d take it all the wrong way. Upsetting the delicate balance they had
gained would have been more than a step backward—it would have been disastrous.
Trying to put the
right spin on his words, he said, “I understand—completely.” More than you think I do, he added mentally.
Content with his
response for the time being, Mac allowed them to fall into a comfortable
silence for the remainder of the ride to her place. Savoring it, the duo knew that tomorrow
morning would bring yet another session with their counselor. As in other sessions, Maddie had a way of
turning past events into something resembling a three ring circus. Of course, it probably wasn’t her fault
considering the past history of the two officers was quite colorful to begin
with.
1322 hours
As Harm eased the
SUV into the parking spot on the street next to Mac’s place, she readied
herself to get out, gathering her purse and making sure she had her keys. She glanced over at Harm, noting how weary he
looked, which she had known would be inevitable. After discussing her own fatherly influence
on her life—or lack thereof—she felt like a train had hit her. She could only imagine how he felt right
now.
Likewise, she was
feeling the effects the nightmare had had on a good night’s sleep. She attempted to stifle yet another
yawn. Thank God I had the presence of
mind to keep the rest of the day clear; I could really use a nap right
now. Looking at Harm, she was hesitant
to get out of the car. She didn’t want
his past to smother him, like her past had done to her.
Harm caught a
glimpse of the exhaustion Mac was unable to hide. He hoped her earlier anguish over the
nightmare wouldn’t hold her hostage again and deprive her of some much needed
rest. Although he hated saying goodbye
to her, her well-being was more important.
It had crossed his mind to find an excuse to stay. There’s no way in hell she’s going to buy it,
he thought. Besides, I’m not going to
press the issue with her right now.
Things have been better than they had been in a long time, why tempt
fate?
He had enjoyed the
time spent with her this morning at breakfast, and had felt—hoped—that she did
too. The diversion had been just what
they needed. It seemed like forever
since they had truly enjoyed their friendship, especially over a casual meal. And despite the effects of the counseling, he
could honestly say they were friends again. Well, it’s not that they ever weren’t. It’s just things got screwed up somehow. For the life of him, he couldn’t remember
when or how it got that way.
“Well, I guess I
should go in,” he heard her say, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Are you going to be
okay?” he asked, concerned, resting his hand on her arm.
“I should be asking
you that,” Mac laughed, “You’re worried about me—after all that you went
through today?”
“Can’t help it, you
mean the world to me,” he said quietly.
He then looked away, realizing he had actually said the words instead of
keeping them in his head.
Mac stared at him,
her brain unable to form a coherent thought.
She realized the blush in her cheeks wasn’t from the warmth of the
car. Well, okay, so it was from the
warmth inside the car. She couldn’t remember the last time any man
had made her feel so cared for and needed.
Maybe there’s a point to this counseling after all, she thought.
“Call me later, let
me know you’re okay,” she heard herself say shyly.
“Count on it, Marine,”
he said tenderly.
Impulsively, Mac
leaned in and kissed him on the cheek before disappearing out the door of the
SUV and into the sanctuary of the building.
She still had ambivalent feelings about letting him leave, and briefly
entertained the notion of asking him in.
As she turned around briefly, she caught a glimpse of him just as he
pulled away from the curb. With a sigh,
she retreated to her apartment.
****
Harm laughed a
little at the heat he felt in his own cheeks, unable to recall the last time he
had felt like that. Well, actually, he
could remember, but it would take him a lifetime to list all the times Sarah
Mackenzie had made him feel that way. He waited until he saw her go into the
building before he pulled away from the curb and headed home.
1335 hours
Harm’s apartment
Relieved to be
home, Harm shut the door to his apartment with a sigh. He tossed his keys on the table by the door,
then stripped off his jacket and threw it over the back of sofa. Undecided if he was tired or hungry, he
strode to the refrigerator to see if there was anything appetizing before
deciding the game plan for the rest of the day.
Standing in front
of the open refrigerator, he leaned against the door, the cool air washing over
him. At the moment, the only thing that
seemed palatable to him was sleep. He
shut the refrigerator and returned to the sofa where he had thrown his
coat. Moving it aside, he sat down with
a thud, resting his head against its back and closing his eyes. He figured sleep would be fleeting since his
mind was still swimming with thoughts of his father, the session with Maddie,
and, of course, Mac.
Mac’s the one thing
I’ve done right in my life, he thought.
She has this way of bringing out the best in me, in spite of my obvious
flaws. It’s no wonder I’m in love with
her, he thought effortlessly, as he finally gave in to the exhaustion that had
taken up residence in his body.
15 minutes earlier
Mac’s Apartment
Removing her coat
and kicking her shoes off as she shut the door behind her, Mac could still feel
the warmth of Harm’s cheek against her lips.
Even though it was a quick, impulsive kiss, it had made her heart
race. She hoped she didn’t embarrass herself
too much—it was kind of forward of her.
Nonetheless, he didn’t seem to mind, she thought with a smile.
Heading to the
kitchen, her first order of business was a hot cup of tea. Once the heat was cranked under the kettle,
she went to the refrigerator and made herself a sandwich. Breakfast was so long ago, lunch would probably
become dinner if she waited any longer.
She smiled as she thought about the earlier breakfast with Harm at the
diner. She wished they could have spent
more time together today. Considering
all they had been through with Maddie, she completely understood. Hell, her day didn’t start out any better,
she thought, shuddering at the thought of the nightmare.
After preparing her
lunch and a cup of tea, she moved to the dining room table to eat, spreading
out the newspaper in front of her. She
thought about the dream, considering what it all could mean. Yeah, part of it was probably her over-active
imagination running amok. But she was
concerned there was some deeper meaning she was missing, other than her
feelings for Harm. She had discussed the
dream with Maddie and she hadn’t mentioned anything about “deeper meanings” or
“subconscious” stuff, but then again, she’s a counselor not a dream
analyst. Even with talking about it, it
still troubled her. Talk about
over-analyzing things, she mused.
Although today was
definitely better than yesterday, she was still left with an uneasy
feeling. Something in the back of her
mind had been nagging her—something from that nightmare. Actually, she knew exactly what part of the
nightmare it was, having considered it many times before. At one time, resolving it meant someone would
have gotten hurt. Now, it really didn’t
matter anymore, the hurt had already been inflicted; now it was time to start
healing those wounds, but how?
Quickly finishing
her lunch and what she could tolerate of the paper, she went into her bedroom
to lie down and try to rest. Still, it
kept nagging at her. She thought for a
moment and then reached for the bedside phone, dialing a familiar number. After
about five rings, a half-asleep voice, with a profound Australian accent,
picked up.
“’ello?”
“Um, hi . . .” Mac
said, wavering a bit and gripping the phone for support. The sound of his voice
put her body in suspended animation, with the exception of her heart which was
now beating out of her chest. It had
been fourteen months since they had talked.
Actually, since she tried to talk to him as he was boarding a plane
bound for Australia.
“Sarah?” Mic
whispered disbelievingly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He swung his legs over the side of the bed
and slid out, trying not to disturb the sleeping female form next to him. He stealthily moved from the bedroom to the
living room, before taking the call out to the balcony.
“Yeah, Mic, it’s
me,” Mac said as she bit her lower lip. “Sorry to have woken you. It’s been a long time since I had to worry
about time differences. It must be about four-thirty there,” she knew she was
rambling, but couldn’t control it.
“Three-thirty,
actually.”
Mac felt guilty for
waking him up. But, she had acted
impetuously—wanting to get this over with sooner than later.
“Is everything
alright?” Mic asked with a yawn.
Frankly, he never thought he’d hear from her again. He wondered if something had happened. Why would she call me, of all people, in time
of crisis?
“Um, yeah, things
are fine . . . sort of,” her voice was shaky from the nerves that were gripping
her.
“How’s Rabb? Isn’t he upset that you’re calling me?” Mic couldn’t help but ask with a note of
sarcasm. Rabb was never one of his favorite
people, to say the least.
“He doesn’t know,”
Mac said quietly. She didn’t know why
she was whispering; she was alone in her apartment. Guilt—there was that feeling again—this time
for going through with it and calling him.
She wondered what Harm’s reaction would be when he found out—well, if I
decide to tell him. But, I can’t think
about that now.
“So, you two
finally got together, eh? And you’re
already keeping secrets—how lovely,” he said, scornfully.
“Uh, not exactly .
. . we’re, uh, working through some issues,” she said tentatively, phrasing her
words carefully. Damn it, I can’t do
this, she thought, her hand shaking as she ran it through her hair.
“Sounds like you’re
seeing a bloody shrink, if you ask me,” Mic said with a cynical laugh.
Mac’s end of the
line was silent. She didn’t realize she
had been so obvious. Mic finding out
about the counseling was the last thing she wanted to happen. He had always been so critical of her
decisions and this . . . oh, God, why does it matter what he thinks
anymore. Mac got up from the bed and
started pacing the floor.
He noticed her
hesitancy to answer. This conversation
was becoming strange and uncomfortable, in his estimation. Mic never thought he’d be talking to Sarah
about Rabb and the relationship they may or may not have.
“Why the phone
call, Sarah?” Mic asked, with some concern and less indifference.
“I, uh . . .” Mac
stammered, not knowing how to put into words what she wanted to say. “I just thought it was time we closed this
book, Mic—for good.”
“Why now? It’s been over a year,” Mic stated
coldly. He paused, and then said, “We
were over before we began, Sarah.”
Mac took a deep
breath, resolving to not let him get to her. She needed to finish the
conversation they started the night he packed up his stuff in her apartment and
moved out. For a moment, Mac had blamed
herself for what transpired between her and Mic. But, recalling something Harm had said to
her, she had realized that it wasn’t entirely her fault.
Don't blame yourself for this. Brumby
has always acted impulsively. It was just a matter of time.
Ignoring the
silence on Mac’s end of the call, Mic said, “If you’re calling for my blessing
Sarah, you had it the day I got on that plane.”
Finally setting
free the anger she had felt at him a year ago, she said decisively, “For the
record, I don’t need your blessing. The
reason I called was to tie up the loose ends that you left when you got on that
plane.”
“Well, for the
record,” he said, mirroring her words tartly, “I don’t have any loose
ends. I got on with my life.” Mic took a deep breath and paced the deck of
the balcony. “The first person you ran
to after I walked out was Rabb. Why run
to him if nothing was going on?”
“He’s my best
friend, Mic.” She wasn’t sure why she needed to convince him of that—especially
now.
“I thought I was
supposed to be your best friend—you were marrying me, remember?”
“Yeah, I do,” she
spat, recalling the numerous times he had reminded her of it.
“Why did you take
my ring in the first place, Sarah?”
There it was. The question that had plagued her for nearly
the past two years was now in her face demanding an answer. Oh, she had answers all right—millions of
them. Yet none of them seemed to fit the
real reason.
“I don’t know,
Mic. I guess I was flattered by all the
attention you gave me.” She paused,
collecting her thoughts, and then added, “Truthfully, I did care about you.”
“But that doesn’t
answer my question.”
“I didn’t want to
hurt your feelings . . .”
Mic cut her off
before she could continue, “Hurt my feelings?
What the bloody hell Sarah!”
Angered, words
began pouring from her mouth, “Mic . . . you pressured me to take the ring—I
didn’t think we had that kind of relationship.
But, I honestly thought that in time I could have loved you like you
wanted—needed—me to. Then, you pressured
me again by resigning your commission without a word to me. Fine—I dealt with it. Just as things were moving along at just the
right speed, you threatened to go back to Australia—yet again pressuring
me! God, don’t you get it Mic!” Mac
paced the floor, breathless with fury.
She didn’t know what was worse, Mic manipulating her or her allowing it.
“You can’t make
this about me, Sarah. Rabb had a hand in
it too,” Mic said through gritted teeth, straining to keep his voice from
bellowing in the early morning air and from waking his guest.
“Damn you, Mic.
Don’t bring Harm into this. This was
about us! If we had been right for one
another, don’t you think we’d be together now?”
Mac rubbed her
forehead in frustration, wondering if this was such a good idea after all. She took advantage of Mic’s silence to take a
deep breath. Sure, nothing was ever easy
with him—not even now, she thought with a sigh.
She stopped pacing abruptly to think where this conversation was going,
besides to hell in a hand basket. Before
she could collect her thoughts enough to add more to her argument, Mic spoke,
the anger in his voice assuaged by his silence.
“Sarah . . . Mac .
. . look . . . let’s just chalk all this up to incompatibility. There was no way in hell it would have ever
worked between us— for whatever reason.
I saw that too late.”
Mac wasn’t sure how
to respond to this. He sounded sincere
enough. Resolving to put an end to the
hostility, she said quietly, “Mic, I am truly sorry that things got as far as
they did. I want you to know that I did
love you—I just wasn’t in love with you.”
Catching her
breath, Mac was relieved she could finally say those words to him. She had known it all along but was so focused
on not wanting to hurt him that she didn’t—couldn’t—do what was right.
“Yeah, for what
it’s worth, I did love you,” he said quietly.
An uncomfortable
silence briefly settled between them before Mac decided it was time to finish
the conversation and get on with her life as well.
“Thanks, Mic. I’m sorry to have woken you.”
“No worries,
luv. Have a good life,” he said with a
slight hint of regret Mac never heard. A
quick good-bye and a click of the phone later, it was over.
Mac replaced the
phone on its receiver, and then sat back down on the bed, exhausted. She was having a difficult time interpreting
what she was feeling now—guilt, sadness, relief? Whatever it was, she was too tired to figure
it all out. Instead, she lay down on her
side, scrunched her pillow in her arms and closed her eyes. She offered a silent prayer that she had
banished those dream demons once and for all.
1720 hours
Harm’s apartment
The chill of the
apartment brushed over his body, waking Harm from the nap he had settled
into. Sitting up, he realized that he
was still on the sofa in the same position he was earlier, except now the
apartment was cast with early evening darkness.
With a yawn, he languidly stretched out his long form out on the sofa,
unwilling to give up its comfortable confines just yet.
Mac—he hoped that
she was getting some much needed rest.
Considering calling her, he thought better of it, not wanting to wake
her in case she had decided to lie down.
There’s plenty of time to check in on her later, he thought.
Earlier, when sleep
had finally consumed his body, his subconscious had taken over, placing Mac in
the forefront of his dreams. He had
fallen asleep thinking of her and woke up in the same place in his mind. He wasn’t surprised he dreamt of her, as it
had happened before—too many times to count.
Smiling, he could
still feel her lips on his cheek from the chaste kiss she had given him before
leaving the car. Even now, its warmth
still caressed his soul. He chastised
himself for reading too much into it.
It’s not like we’ve never kissed before, he mused.
He could recall
each kiss as if it were happening all over again. However, there was only one—one intense
kiss—he had remembered vividly. The
coolness of the night, the warmth of her body pressed against his, the urgency
to make her understand how he felt. The
sensation of it was burned into his heart, God forbid he should never feel
those lips and that mouth again.
We're getting too good at saying goodbye.
Why did we let it
get this far, he recalled Mac asking him last night after her nightmare. There were so many times in his life that he
needed her and wanted her. But getting the
both of them on the same page at the same time had been a tremendous task. At some time or another, they had been
involved with someone else, which eventually ended. From what he could recall, his friendship
with Mac always seemed to be a threat to any woman he dated. We’re best friends, why would she have been
a threat? Then again, a kiss like that
doesn’t happen between friends, he mused.
Echoes of a past conversation took over his mind.
I don’t know why we couldn’t work things out
with us, Harm . . . So where does that leave us?
I don’t know, Mac. At the end, I guess.
How about back at the beginning.
Except I can’t find
the beginning. It’s like it’s one big
circle with no ends. Overwhelmed with
his thoughts, he sighed and reluctantly pushed himself up from the sofa. Lying around wasn’t accomplishing anything.
He strode across
the room, clicking on a light to check the time. Well, I certainly missed lunch, he thought,
judging by the time and an ever-present gnawing in his stomach. Determined to put his energy into something
productive, he went into the bedroom and changed into clothes suitable for
running. Dinner could wait until later.
1815 hours
The Capital
Taking advantage of
the lights of the city, Harm chose to run on the streets rather than in the
park as he usually did. He had no agenda
in mind, just going wherever his feet would lead him. The scent of the earlier rain had lingered in
the air, refreshing him. In the coolness of the evening, he could see his
breath with each huff he exhaled. The
scrunching of the fallen leaves under his feet provided the accompaniment for
the beat his feet were drumming out on the damp concrete and pavement. It was such an exhilarating rush, yet still
incomparable to flying. Releasing energy
from his body allowed his mind to become clearer with every step he took. Considering the days’ events, he needed a
clear mind to put his life into perspective.
Moments later, he
found himself in familiar territory—Constitution Gardens. Slowing his run to a gentle trot, he didn’t
need a map to know exactly where he was.
As he brought his body to a stop, he took a few strides until his
reflection appeared on smoothness of the stone wall. The streetlights that surrounded the park
provided just enough glow, illuminating the letters that formed his father’s
name.
He bent over at his
waist, allowing his heart-rate and his body to decelerate, stretching to keep
his muscles from cramping up. With the
sleeve of his right arm, he wiped the sweat that had accumulated on his brow. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with
fresh air. Mac’s subconscious had
manifested the stress of yesterday’s session into a nightmare. Harm’s subconscious had a different way of
dealing with his stressors—they physically took him to a place of comfort.
With the impending
Veteran’s Day holiday, the Memorial was bustling with activities and
visitors. It didn’t bother him in the
least. Whenever he came here, he could
effectively shut out the world. Rubbing
his hands together for warmth, he then reached out with his right hand,
brushing it gently over the etching—his fingers recognizing every nuance of
every letter carved into the black marble.
This is where he
could find peace—in silent commune with his father. This is where he could heal the wounds
inflicted upon his soul during the session. Here he could make the emptiness go away.
Maddie didn’t
intentionally hurt him—it all had come out in the course of therapy. He could have said no, but he didn’t. Subconsciously he needed to talk about it. His mom could have stopped him years ago, but
she didn’t. She knew he had to work it
all out on his own. That’s why she
acquiesced, letting him go to Russia.
Healing—it was time
to let go and move on with his life. He
would always have his father in his memories.
But he wouldn’t allow his memories to continue to be the obsession that
controlled his life anymore.
Standing there,
Harm reminisced about his dad—what he could remember of him as a boy of
six. Those are the memories he would
want me to keep, he thought, not the what-ifs or the could-have-beens. It was time to put those away for good. And it was time to ask forgiveness from those
who I should have never hurt by my obsession in the first place—Mom and Frank.
Reaching under his
sweatshirt, Harm pulled his cell phone from the band of his sweats. He checked his watch before dialing a number
known by heart. After only two rings,
the sweet, melodious tone of his mother’s voice filled his ears.
“Hello?”
“Hi Mom.”
“Harm? To what do I owe the honor of this call?” she
chuckled, teasing him.
Her laugh soothed
him and comforted him. “It’s been too long since we’ve talked. I just thought I’d call. Sometimes a son just needs to hear his
mother’s voice.”
Moving to a nearby
bench, Harm sat down and spent time with two of the three people who meant most
in his life—his father and his mother.
The other he promised to call later—once he was certain she had gotten
much needed rest.