~~~Walls, Bridges and Other Obstacles~~~

0720 hours local (Friday)

Mac’s Apartment

Standing in front of the mirror, Mac fiddled with her hair again. She expected Harm shortly, yet she hoped he was on “Rabb time” to give her a few extra minutes to get ready. Sure, she had been up since 0500—properly caffeinated and showered—yet she was in front of the mirror still attending to her appearance. The little four letter word that had snuck into the conversation last night—date—put her stomach in knots and made her palms sweaty.

Okay, we’re just going to see our therapist, no big deal, she thought. We’ve only been doing this for what seems like forever. Mac pushed a strand of hair behind her ear and then blotted the lipstick off her lips. The color was appallingly pink for her skin tone, and in her opinion, screamed “80’s”. Opening her medicine cabinet, she grabbed the tube and tossed it in the trash, and reached for the lip moisturizer instead.

Checking her appearance one last time (she hoped), Mac padded out of the bathroom to the closet in search of her boots. Retrieving them, she tugged them on under the hem of her jeans and stood up. Smoothing out her sweater, she snickered a little at the fuss she was making about it all. She wasn’t sure if it was crazy or normal—not that anything about her and Harm was normal. I think we must be Maddie’s poster children for dysfunctional relationships, she thought with a laugh.

Mac strode out into the living room, pulled her coat from the closet and tossed it over the back of the couch. She double checked her purse for her keys, and then set it down as well. Feeling a need to pace, Mac repressed the urge by curling up on the chair instead. She fidgeted a little, and then calmed her hands by placing them in her lap.

The past month and a half—from the time she served as judge until now—had certainly been a whirlwind for her. If Harriet had asked her on the night of her and Bud’s housewarming where she thought she saw herself in six weeks, she would have never guessed this. But, in spite of it all, she felt it was finally worth the effort. “The thorns are part of the roses,” she said, as she got lost in the garden of her memories. Their phone conversation from last night lingered in her thoughts and wrapped her in a warmth only he could give her.

* * * *

Harm wasted no time in getting to Mac’s apartment. From the moment his feet hit the floor, his impatience to get to her gnawed at him. Even though today would bring yet another session with Maddie, he was certain that things were finally falling into place. He felt the connection his soul made with hers yesterday—a connection warm and familiar, yet new and exhilarating. Only she could make him feel this way.

Parking in front of Mac’s apartment, Harm quickly exited his SUV and sprinted across the sidewalk into the building, taking two steps at a time with his long legs. He had no intention of being late this morning. There was so much to look forward to after the session with Maddie—breakfast and Barnes and Noble. Even with his anticipation, he felt an underlying nervousness just fighting to get out.

Taking a deep breath, he quickly knocked on Mac’s door and then took a step back to compose himself. He couldn’t wait to see her. Almost immediately, his wish was granted. She opened the door with a smile, looking refreshed from head to toe—from her hair gently tucked behind her ears down to the tips of her boots peeking out from under her slim jeans.

“Hey . . . right on time,” she said sweetly, holding the door and motioning for Harm to enter with her hand.

The vision standing in the doorway had caught Harm off guard. He stood there, momentarily lost—no—captivated by her. He was rarely speechless, yet he couldn’t form a coherent thought if it had smacked him square on the forehead. Mac was radiant—her face glowed and her bright eyes seemed to dance.

“Uh, Harm? You can come in. I won’t bite,” she said to him with a slight chuckle.

Harm’s eyes became wide as he realized he had been standing there, dazed. He cleared his throat and looked away shyly, asking, “Are you ready?”

“I just have to put my coat on,” she said over her shoulder, walking toward the couch to retrieve it, and leaving him standing just outside the door.

As Mac swung the coat around her shoulders, Harm was suddenly behind her, holding it so she could slip her arms in. His movement surprised her, bringing a blush to her cheeks with the nearness of his body to hers. Her scent enveloped and intoxicated him, making him struggle to stay afloat in the ocean of her mere existence. Quietly, she whispered, “Thanks,” and then lingered for a moment to savor his touch, before turning to leave and breaking the spell that had captured them.

0750 hours local

Old Town Alexandria

Maddie parked her car, fed the meter, and plodded across the street into the building that housed her office, with Zoloft in tow. She silently berated herself for making this early morning appointment with Harm and Mac especially after the way her afternoon had gone yesterday. What she had thought would have been an easy discussion about Harm and his relationships turned into the Adventures of Butch and Sundance, or Batman and Robin—name any daring duo and that was the two of them in a nutshell. The couple had given her a run for her money with Harm’s story about going after his MIA father. Russian spies . . . Gypsies . . . ejecting out of a Mig29. “I need a vacation—soon,” she muttered through a yawn as she ascended the stairs to the second floor.

After Harm and Mac had left yesterday, her day didn’t get much better. Her next appointment had been with Mrs. Beatrice Ashton-Langley. Mrs. Bea, as she preferred to be called, had just begun the counseling process. She and her third husband were having difficulties adjusting to married life. You’d think she’d have gotten it right by this time, Maddie mused with a shake of her head. And, to beat all, she had decided to show up with Mister Butler, as in Rhett Butler of the same name, her Yorkshire terrier.

The session lasted all of 8 minutes—3 minutes for Mister Butler to decide that chasing Zoloft was a great way to pass the time. The other five minutes to extract the shuddering pooch from the corner Zolly had backed him into post-tussle—his back arched and claws bared.

“That dang woman . . . what the hell was she thinking bringing that . . . that . . . poor excuse for a fur ball into my office,” Maddie said to herself, recalling the whole debacle.

Needless to say, neither client nor counselor was amused. Considering that Zoloft outweighed the dog nearly three to one, she should be lucky Mister Butler only got his nose smacked a few dozen times. In the end, Maddie had suggested that if Mrs. Bea were to continue counseling her, she must leave her dog at home otherwise deal with the consequences.

“We’ll see how that turns out, eh, Zolly?” she said to the cat cradled in her arms, nuzzling him with her head.

Maddie had reached her office and unlocked the door with her free hand. Once inside, she set Zoloft down and immediately opened the blinds in the waiting room. As she strode into her private office, she noticed something sparkly on the carpet, meshed with fur. Upon closer inspection, Maddie realized it was a stone from Mister Butler’s collar tangled with some cat and dog hair. She shook her head, muttering, “Unbelievable,” then placed the rhinestone on her desk with the promise to get it back to its owner.

Checking her watch, Maddie realized she had only a few minutes until Harm and Mac would arrive. Not having heard anything to the contrary, she assumed all was well and they were keeping their appointment as scheduled. She opened her file drawer and extracted their chart, tossing it on the desk rather than reviewing it. She had lived and breathed those two so much lately she could probably recite her notes in their file by heart. Maddie had only hoped that the session had left Harm in a decent frame of mind. But it didn’t concern her too much, as Mac had been quite protective of him during the session. You’re a lucky man, Commander. The sooner you realize this, the better—for all of us.

Putting on a pot of coffee, Maddie put her thoughts into perspective. She had no real agenda for this session. She had figured on letting the chips fall where they may and dealing with the aftermath later. Eager for her caffeine fix, she stood there, cup in hand, waiting for the coffee maker to do its thing. Meanwhile, Zoloft trotted off to join the sun’s rays that were already warming his favorite spot on the carpet.

* * * *

0753 hours local

Old Town Alexandria

The couple had ridden, for the most part, in silence to Maddie’s office, content to just enjoy the physical presence of the other. Engaging in small-talk hadn’t been their style. And, with the absence of the courtroom from their life right now, all that was left was the counseling and, of course them. Still, neither knew what to say nor wanted to be the first to speak. Rather than break the peacefulness of the moment with trivial banter, Harm nudged the volume up on the radio ever so slightly, giving the music from one of the local stations center stage.

Ever since last night, Mac had wanted to tell Harm about her phone call to Mic—she needed to. Part of their problem wasn’t so much honesty, as it was about openness and letting go. Calling Mic was all about letting go and closure—for her. Harm deserved to know, especially if they were ever going to get past their insecurities and move forward with their lives.

But knowing where to even begin the whole account had confounded her. Sitting arms length from him, it was consuming her thoughts. There are two ways that Harm would view it all— either he would understand her need for closure with Mic, or he would read into it and see what his over-active imagination wants him to see. Deciding that it was better left alone . . . for the moment . . . Mac sat quietly, attempting to push it from her thoughts.

* * * *

Before long, they were pulling into one of the parking spaces along King Street, having arrived before most of the nine-to-fiver’s that work in the local offices. As Mac slid out of the vehicle, Harm made his way to the curb to put change in the meter. He waited until she shut the door and made her way to him so they could cross the street together.

As they reached the lobby, Harm held the door open, allowing Mac to enter first. She paused briefly; the earlier dilemma of the “Mic phone call” that had been eating at her was now burning in her gut. She wondered if she should just bite the bullet and tell Harm about it now, rather than have him find out about it later. Impulsively, she decided to go for it.

“Harm . . . wait a second,” she uttered breathlessly. God, give me the strength to do this.

He looked at her quizzically, “What’s up? You okay?”

“Um, yeah. We need to talk . . . before we go in,” she began hesitantly.

Concerned, Harm asked, “Something wrong?” The warm glow that had been in her face earlier was now gone. She was pale and almost looked ill, in his opinion.

Mac took a deep breath. She knew it was in their best interest to tell him, but getting past her nerves would prove a monumental task. Her heart was pounding out of her chest and that knot in her stomach was now residing in her throat.

“Remember I told you I had made a phone call yesterday,” she said, her voice hardly audible.

“Uh, yeah. What about it?” he asked, puzzled by her sudden edginess. Although he couldn’t pinpoint why, he was suddenly getting a bad feeling about whatever it was she needed to tell him.

“I . . . I called Mic.” There—I said it. She took another deep breath and blew it out with a huff, trying to keep her pulse rate in the double digits. It wasn’t working.

“Bugme.”

It was more of a statement than a question. Harm stood there, unsure whether he should be shocked, angry or indifferent. Instead, he silently cursed the day he stepped out of JAG and back on that carrier four years ago. Had he not left, Mic Brumby might never have been a factor. It’s my own damn fault, he thought, trying to control the queasiness he suddenly felt.

Mac searched his blue eyes for some indication of his feelings, only to find them looking beyond her—almost like there was an apparition from the past emerging just behind her that he was straining his eyes to see. She wanted to reach out to touch him but was afraid he would vanish into the fog that had suddenly cloaked him.

“Harm . . .” she quietly called to him.

In his minds eye, he was back in Sydney airport—standing there . . . watching Brumby . . . with Mac . . . and the ring.

Are congratulations in order, Colonel? The Admiral’s voice echoed in his head.

It's on the right hand, sir.

So I see.

Friendship ring? His own voice . . . hoping beyond everything that it was only a ring, but not THE ring.

I hope not, mate. Brumby’s triumphant tone nauseated him.

Let's go, people. Reluctantly, he walked to the plane with the Admiral, wishing it were all a dream. Hoping if he looked back it would all be gone.

Never look back, Commander. The chastising tone from the Admiral sounded more like fatherly advice than an order. And as he stepped on the walkway to the plane, he couldn’t help it anymore—he needed to look back—he wanted to see her tell Brumby he was wrong. But she didn’t—all was gone as he watched her kiss him. His world as he knew it no longer existed.

Abruptly, as if someone had kicked him, Harm snapped out of his stupor. Looking at her standing there, he felt like he was once again in the middle of a nightmare. The words resounding in his head were caught in the back of his throat and unable to make it to his mouth. Why do this Mac? Why Bugme? Why now? I thought we were getting somewhere. Harm ran a hand through his hair and then shoved it into his pocket with a sigh, looking anywhere but at Mac.

Changing the subject without another word about Bugme, and Mac’s phone call to him, was probably for the best—for him—right now. But he was unable to rid his mind of the visions of a nightmare named Mic Brumby. With no other recourse at the moment, he began walking toward the stairwell door.

“We better get going—we’re going to be late,” he said softly, his spirit crushed.

“I need . . . WE need to talk about this Harm,” Mac said decisively, wanting to get it over with—now. She knew she needed to make him understand her reasoning behind calling Mic. It has nothing, yet everything to do with you, she thought. In the split second she opened her mouth to say what she was thinking, Harm interrupted.

“We’ll talk later,” he said calmly yet effectively, trying to keep his emotions from boiling over. Holding the door open to the stairwell, Harm motioned for Mac. “Come on, we’re going to be late.”

Mac heaved a sigh and shook her head. “Fine,” she muttered as she passed him to ascend the steps, relenting, at least for the moment. As her every footfall echoed in the stairwell, she struggled with her composure and prayed she would find it before she reached the second floor.

Harm’s mind was still swimming with scenarios of Bugme coming back into Mac’s life and sweeping her off her feet as he followed behind her. Just another missed opportunity, he thought. A little voice inside his head was trying to tell him there was nothing to worry about, but he swatted it out of his mind like he was shooing away a fly that was buzzing noisily around his ear.

* * * *

Moments later, they were in Maddie’s outer office. Mac immediately sat down on the love seat, while Harm paced the carpet, hands in his pockets and eyes cast to the floor. Just as she was about to broach the subject again with him, Maddie appeared.

“Good morning,” she greeted them warmly. Harm nodded his head, while Mac softly responded, “Hi”. It didn’t take but a second for Maddie to feel the icy chill that had been cast over the room. Frankly, it stunned her. After yesterday, she was certain that they were finally connecting. And now it seemed like a vast ocean had separated them—emotionally and physically. Now what in the hell happened? Her gaze darted from one to the other in search of some clues to what had transpired; she found none. I guess we’re at square one again, she thought with a sigh.

Keeping her voice soft and even toned, and repressing the urge to kick the crap out of the both of them, Maddie said, “Let’s get started, shall we?” Frustrated, she turned on her heel toward her office muttering to herself, “Damn stubborn people.”

Neither vocalized any objection to Maddie’s suggestion. Mac stood to follow her, but paused briefly as Harm waited for her to move around the table. She stared at him, hoping to catch his eye and get a handle on what he was feeling.

“Harm . . .” she quietly called to him, wanting his undivided attention and a chance to bare her soul.

“Later Mac, okay?” he replied sharply, unwilling to meet her gaze. In his mind, there was Bugme, again the wall between them and it made him ache. Dwelling on it right now was making his head pound.

Those three words defeated Mac. She berated herself for daring to be honest with him about calling Mic. Clearly, it was all a mistake—calling Mic and telling Harm, she thought, wavering between anger and heartache. I thought he’d get past this sort of behavior. Mustering all her strength, yet struggling to keep the tears at bay, she held her head up and walked ahead of him. Refusing to crumble in his presence, she put up the fortress around her heart that had been her shield most of her life.

Maddie watched from her seat as the two entered the room, each proceeding to their corner of the couch. She could practically see the icicles forming on her crown moldings. One step forward, twenty steps back. How obstinate can two people be? Until I can come up with a better plan, I guess we’ll go back to where we left off yesterday, she mused, taking a long drink of her coffee that had begun to chill. Its taste caused her to shrivel her nose and twist up her mouth. Bitterness had a way of doing that.

Zoloft immediately noticed the presence of the two in the room and in a matter of seconds was in Mac’s lap nuzzling her. Mac wondered if the feline had intuitively known she was upset and came to comfort her. No matter what the reasoning, she was grateful for the distraction from her present emotional state.

As the cat was settling himself on Mac’s lap, Harm reached out his hand to pet Zolly, only to be met with a glare and hiss. “Taking sides, eh, Zolly?” Harm muttered to himself in retreat. Mac didn’t venture a response nor glance in Harm’s direction; she knew that Zoloft had spoken for both of them.

Maddie was too frustrated with them to reprimand Zolly for his actions. And actually, she was somewhat amused with the whole scene, even though she didn’t show it. Rather, she waited quietly until they all were settled before beginning.

“Harm. Yesterday we ended the session with discussion of your relationship with your mother and your step-brother. Any thoughts you’d like to add?”

“No, I think we covered it all yesterday,” Harm replied indifferently, without looking up in Maddie’s direction. Rather, he focused his attentions on his class ring, alternately spinning it around on his finger and then sliding it off and on. He was having a hard time focusing on anything but Mac and Brumby right now.

“Okay, then,” Maddie said with a huff. “Son . . . of . . . a . . . bitch,” she muttered to herself through gritted teeth, “This was supposed to be an easy day.” All right, the gloves are off! I am done playing fair—even if it does border on unprofessional behavior. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes briefly, collecting herself. If anything, she wanted to be completely, one-hundred percent in control of the session, for what it was worth.

“Let’s see . . . going on with the discussion of your relationships with women . . . we discussed Diane and Annie . . . who would be next, Harm?”

Harm welcomed the distraction of discussing his past relationships. Actually, he would have welcomed discussing Evolution if it meant getting his mind off Brumby and Mac.

He shrugged his shoulders, “I guess it would be Bobbie.”

Mac sat there in her corner of the couch, suddenly not wanting to be here. It was almost funny to her that Harm had no qualms about discussing his “women” in front of her, yet when she needed to talk about Mic to him, he shut down in a heartbeat. I guess too many blows to the head will do that to a man, she thought as she scratched Zolly’s ears. The earlier hurt she had felt was now manifesting itself into sarcasm and bitterness.

Her emotions were so jumbled up right now. It was as if someone had shaken a bottle of soda—opening the cap would cause it to spew all over the room. And the last thing she wanted right now was to not have control of her emotions. But, the only thing she needed was to get through this session with her heart intact. Never in her life did she think she could feel so many different feelings at one time—hurt . . . anger . . . frustration . . . confusion . . . sadness . . . and yes, love. Despite it all, she was in love with him, she would always be in love with him—it was her only flaw.

Working off Harm’s statement, Maddie continued, “Let’s talk about Bobbie. I think she was mentioned briefly in one of our other sessions, right?”

“Um, yeah,” Harm said. “She and I got involved when we worked together . . . uh, she’s a Congresswoman.”

“Uh huh,” Maddie mumbled, making a note on her legal pad. “And how long did that relationship last?”

“Well, uh, it wasn’t exactly a relationship,” Harm stammered, trying to broach the topic carefully. Bobbie happened not long after he had returned home from Russia and searching for his father. He was still in an awkward place, as far as he was concerned. He needed someone, but not the relationship that went with it. Mac had been there for him, but the last thing he wanted to do was drag her down with him, God forbid it didn’t work.

“What was it then?” her professional tone had taken on a coolness in her annoyance with him.

“Uh, well, it was more like a . . .” he hesitated, searching for the right word, “one time deal.”

Maybe saying one night stand or roll in the hay would have been more appropriate, Mac thought, keeping her opinions under a tight lid. Well, she may have been silent, however, her facial expressions gave her dead away.

“If you have something to say, Mac, say it,” Harm stated coolly, having caught her non-verbal demonstration from the corner of his eye.

“No, I’m fine,” she replied with a stiff smile, continuing to play with the cat on her lap. Mac could feel those “fizzies” just itching to get out. However, now was not the time.

Maddie had a different kind of feeling; it was a little more like déjà vu. If she didn’t know better, she would have thought someone had rewound the tape back to day one of their counseling when acrimony laced the air around them. Whatever occurred between the two had to have happened recently, otherwise they would not have shown up here today, she mused. And it had to be about someone or something from their past—since that had been a point of friction for them. Knowing what I do, it could be anything at this venture, she thought. With a sigh, she again decided to leave well enough alone and press forward. Getting this session over with was now her priority.

“So, Bobbie was a one night stand,” Maddie asked, but making it sound more like a statement of fact. Judging from the expression on Mac’s face, she figured out that she was thinking the same thing.

Harm shifted his weight on the sofa, feeling a little awkward with the present tone of this discussion. Doing his best to keep it factual, he cleared his throat and continued, “When you put it that way, it sounds cheap. It wasn’t like that at all. We enjoyed each other’s company professionally and personally. And yes, it did lead to, uh, one night of intimacy. In the end, she wanted more in the way of a relationship, and I wasn’t ready for that.”

“Do you often have one night stands?” It was a question Maddie felt needed to be asked for the sake of how Harm viewed his relationships with the women in his life.

Mac sighed softly, growing tired of this session by the minute and almost tired of trying to come to terms with whatever it was she had or didn’t have with Harm. Frankly, she also really didn’t feel like sitting here while Harm went into the “who’s who” details of his past love life, or whatever you want to call it.

It really was none of her business, in her estimation; even though he had long ago imparted some of the information to her, of course, leaving out the . . . minute details, for lack of a better word. Over the years, the “information” had come in dribs and drabs, allowing her to slowly put the puzzle of who Harmon Rabb Jr. was together. She had long ago settled on that Harm was not a womanizer, but just a typical fighter-jock—a man out to conquer the world and dazzle the women with his charm in the process. Yeah, it obviously works. I’m here, aren’t I, she thought. To keep her wits about herself, she continued to keep Zoloft happy with her fingers behind his ears.

Harm chuckled at the question, “When I was younger, yeah. Hell, most of the guys were pretty free and loose. But it’s not something I, uh, make a habit of anymore.” Although he had told Mac about some of his relationships, putting it out there in this context was making him feel self-conscious. And he was quite certain that it was making her uncomfortable as well, even though she didn’t outwardly show it. Instead of naming names, he sat silently, letting the discussion end at that point.

Satisfied with his answer, Maddie jotted down a few notes. Deciding to not press for any further details from Harm, she continued, “What happened afterward—after Bobbie?”

“We remained friends. It was what it was,” he said evenly. He flat out wanted to avoid rehashing that night. Once was enough, he thought. I essentially blew Mac off to get lucky. Some way to treat my best friend. In the session the other day, he had told her that there were times he felt he had disappointed her—this, in his estimation, had been one of those times. The memory of disappointing her had left him with an empty feeling, despite his present anguish over Brumby.

“Did you date anyone after Bobbie?” Maddie’s voice pulled Harm back from his thoughts.

Harm barely had time to purge himself of one memory before he was thrust into another. “Uh, yeah . . . Jordan.”

“And who was she?” Maddie wrote the name down and continued without looking up.

“She was a psychiatrist in the Navy. We met while I was defending her for a DUI . . . uh . . . it was cough syrup, not what you think,” he quickly clarified.

“Oh . . . interesting,” Maddie mumbled, again making notes without looking up. Guess she couldn’t figure you out either, eh, Commander? She quickly shook her head to rid herself of the unnecessary commentary before she’d regret it.

“How long were you two together?” Maddie asked, looking up and watching Harm continuing to play distractedly with his class ring.

Thinking about it for a moment, he shrugged and said, “A few months. Maybe five—six, tops.”

“How did the relationship end?”

“Uh, well, after I had found out about what happened to my father, I found myself thinking about returning to carrier life . . . flying . . . more and more. Then, Mac and I had been on the Coral Sea on assignment. Being there had made me realize that I just couldn’t deny it—flying—anymore. I needed to go back. But, to do that, I needed to have my vision corrected. I didn’t tell anyone . . . I didn’t tell Jordan . . . until after I had done it. By then, I had my request for transfer ready to go. She found it before I had had a chance to tell her.”

His recollection of that time in his life was quite vivid. Jordan was upset, to put it mildly, because he had wanted to change his designator. He knew she wanted more from the relationship than he was willing to give. As far as he was concerned, his life still had no direction, with the exception of flying. He hoped by going back he might be able to reclaim who he was. Up until JAG, it was all he had ever known.

Yet, his desire to make his life right by going back to flying affected not only his relationship with Jordan—it had affected Mac as well. After his fight with Jordan about going back to flying, He went to her looking for support from his best friend. He never anticipated her reaction, wavering between anger and frustration. Still there was something else she felt that he couldn’t place his finger one. Looking back, it wasn’t just sadness . . . was it heartbreak too?

. . . it would mean that flying is more important to you than JAG, it's more important to you than Jordan, it's more important to you. . . than . . . everything.

And then in his office on his last day at JAG, he had walked in to find Mac sitting in his chair. He had been struggling with the excitement of going back flying and the overwhelming sadness of leaving JAG . . . leaving his friends . . . leaving Mac. Her brave-Marine façade was threatening to crumble with the sight of him.

Did you think you'd sneak away without saying goodbye?

Well, why goodbye and not good luck?

Didn't I say that to you once when I was stupid enough to leave JAG?

Yes you did.

You said you were happy for me.

I was but that was different. You were in love.

And you're not?

What's love have to do with anything? Hey . . .

Harm could still feel her tears on his fingertips. The salt from her tears had permeated his skin, burning them forever on his heart.

Dammit. I have so much I want to say to you but I can't ...can't find the words.

In an instant, he had her wrapped up in his arms, consoling her. His own tears choked him, fighting so hard to keep them inside that his chest hurt and he couldn’t breathe. He was as afraid to let her go as she was of him. So afraid she would slip through his fingers, like grains of sand, and disappear forever.

Looking back now, he wondered what it was she had wanted to say to him that day. It was a lifetime ago. Just another moment where we—I—couldn’t say what I needed to, Harm thought, stealing a glance in Mac’s direction. Regret began to replace the hurt he had felt earlier. He wished he had taken the time to listen to her rather than let his selfishness take over.

Mac remembered Harm’s relationship with Jordan from a different perspective.

I envy you; you've got this hot new romance.

Yeah, sometimes I think it will last forever and sometimes I think it will last until . . .

Until what?

Until you decide you want him.

Jordan there isn't . . . First of all I've had enough of men for a while. For the foreseeable future I'm a nun. Second, it's not like that between me and Harm. We're like, I'm not going to say brother and sister.

Thank you.

I'm not a threat to you Jordan, believe me.

But was I a threat, Mac thought. And, who was I trying to convince—Jordan or myself? Did she see something I didn’t back then? Sure, I had feelings for Harm, but was I that obvious?

Maddie’s next question to Harm disrupted Mac’s train of thought. “How did Jordan feel about your decision to go back to flying?”

“At first, she was angry that I shut her out . . . I didn’t involve her in my decision. But I think it was more disappointment than anything.”

“So, she was hoping for more of a long-term commitment from you.”

“Jordan thought we had a shot at a real relationship. But once she learned of my transfer request, she felt we’d never have a normal life . . .I would have been away for months at a time.” Harm paused, remembering. “When things on the carrier didn’t work out and I had returned, I had wanted to make things right with her. But, it was already over. She came to see me and stayed long enough to tell me that there was no hope for us and that she was leaving for Spain.”

Things had also changed with Mac too. Brumby was pulling out all the stops to gain Mac’s attentions. From what Harm had seen, Mac wasn’t exactly discouraging him either. And when he tried to call her on it, she had gotten angry.

Well, Brumby certainly dances to your beat!

By that you mean?

He's still on your scent!

We're just friends.

No man is interested in being friends with a woman who looks like you!

Maddie had been watching both of them after Harm’s last statement. Once again, they had that familiar, distant look on their faces. She wondered where their thoughts were taking them again. There were so many layers to their relationship; she doubted that she would ever be able to understand all of it. I doubt that they understand any of it.

Deciding to close the book on Jordan, she asked, “Since your relationship with her ended, have you stayed friends?”

Harm sighed sadly, “We, uh, lost touch for a while . . . until about a year and a half ago . . . right before she died.”

“Died?” Maddie said, aghast.

“Yeah . . . she was murdered.” He paused as the memory of her death seized him. “Initially, they thought it was . . . um . . . suicide.”

“Suicide?”

With a deep breath, Harm continued, “Right before she died, she called me . . . left a message on my machine . . . but I never returned it. They thought she killed herself because of me.”

Maddie was speechless. Not one, but two of Harm’s girlfriends had died. She wanted to ask how it affected his future relationships, but before she could, Harm was speaking again.

“After they determined she was murdered, I received a letter from her. She said that she would always remember the time we spent together and that she eventually realized friendship is all we would ever have.”

Mac remembered how traumatic Jordan’s death was for Harm, especially when the police had believed it was suicide. She had worried often how it had affected him, yet because of Renee’, didn’t interfere. However, the night of her engagement party had given her the opportunity to make sure he was doing all right.

Are you okay about Jordan?

Sure.

Harm, you should really talk to someone about it.

I do. I talk to Renee.

Oh . . .

She tried hard not to let her disappointment show, but her one-syllable response conveyed it for her. Harm didn’t turn to her for support and it had crushed her. It wasn’t my place . . . it belonged to Renee’. She was his girlfriend, I wasn’t. Even after all this time, it still hurt to some degree. With a sigh, Mac buried the memory of it.

All this had left Maddie’s head spinning. In her years of counseling, she had often helped clients deal with the death of a companion, but never two. Even though it seemed Harm had moved on, she still wondered where Jordan’s death left him.

“Was that letter the closure you needed?”

Harm sat thoughtfully for a moment, considering Maddie’s query, and then replied, “After a while, I think it was.” He paused before continuing, “I’m grateful for the time I had with Jordan. I don’t have any regrets—I guess we both knew it would never work other than friendship.”

As the words formed on his lips, they infused his thoughts with Mac. If it all ended today and there was no Mac and there had never been anything more than friendship between us, where would my regrets lie? In the regret of not being there when she needed me, or the regret of not letting go of the past, or sadder still, the regret of not telling her how much I need her and love her? And in that moment, all else seemed inconsequential—including his earlier anguish over some stupid phone call Mac had made to Brumby.

Mac stole a glance at Harm and in that instant tried to gauge his emotions . . . unsure of where the discussion about Jordan left him. His expression was familiar to her. He looked distant and preoccupied, yet almost defeated . . . almost like . . . he had lost his best friend. The last time she had seen him look like this was the night of her engagement party. Where are you, Harm? Better still, where are we and where do we go from here?

Satisfied with Harm’s response, Maddie made a few, rushed notes on Jordan, her eyes cast down on the papers before her. In her eagerness to close the book on this relationship, she missed the chapter on how it affected Harm and Mac—right here, right now. Instead, the counselor sighed and checked the time. She decided to move on with the session, for her own, albeit selfish, reasons. Maddie flipped through their file, and found a name circled on one of the pages—“Renee’”—someone she was quite certain Harm hadn’t discussed yet.

She had a vague recollection from a past session about Renee’. And, if she remembered correctly, it had something to do with Mac going to Harm’s apartment and Renee’s father or someone dying. Maddie could have kicked herself for not writing it all down. But, there was something about that conversation . . . almost like there was something left unfinished or unsaid . . . that she was certain of. She could feel it. And, in her estimation, it warranted further exploration. For a second, she wondered if she should shelve it to another day. How long could discussing Renee’ take? If Harm’s relationship with her followed suit, this should be quick, right? “Let’s get this over with,” Maddie muttered to herself.

She spared the “who was next” warning and jumped right in the fire. “Harm, I’d like you to tell me about Renee’. Where did she fall into the picture?”

Harm and Mac were both still lost in the Jordan era when Maddie whip-lashed them back to the present with her sharp, left-turn down “Renee’ Peterson memory lane.” Where in the hell did that come from, they thought in unison, exchanging stunned looks.

Part of the baggage complicating their lives had been tagged with Renee’s name—in big, black Sharpie-Marker letters. There wasn’t any way of avoiding her now, short of rewriting the past—or running out of the room. Based on the evolution of past sessions, it was all bound to come out sooner or later. Of course, Harm had hoped the later the better, since “never” wasn’t one of his options.