~~~Patience is a virtue, you know!
~~~
1810 local
Mac’s drive home was tense.
Harm’s little revelation to her had sent her spiraling into a sea of
tumultuous emotions. She was left in a
state of shock by his “I wanted it to be me you were marrying, not Bugme”. After all the chances he had to say those
words—words that could have altered the course of events—they were kept buried,
until today. And it wasn’t like she
didn’t give him the opportunity to say them; she had. He had chosen to back away and trivialize it
so many times she had lost count. By
doing that he had practically pushed her into Mic’s arms. Why did it have to
take going to a counselor to get him to finally say it? The sadness Mac was feeling was being
replaced by frustration and anger.
Harm’s inability to tell her how he really felt hurt her beyond
belief. Damn you! Too little, too late yet again, Rabb, she
thought.
She had had enough for today. All she wanted to do was go
home, lock the doors and go to bed. Her
head hurt and her eyes burned from the earlier crying she had done. The traffic wasn’t helping matters
either. Her drive home was taking longer
than she had hoped it would. From what
she could see, someone was in the wrong lane trying to turn. She resisted the urge to scream something
less than ladylike out the window at the guy.
Instead she said, “What a doofus” to no one in particular as she laid on
the horn. Patience wasn’t one of her
strongest virtues.
Once at home, Mac had a definite agenda in mind—eat, bathe, and sleep—in that order! Not in the mood to cook, she located her
folder with take-out menus and began perusing them to find something palatable
to order. After minimal deliberation,
she settled on Eggplant Parmesan with a side of meatballs from a local Italian
eatery she and Harm had ordered from once or twice before. Hastily dialing the
number, she prayed they wouldn’t take long delivering her meal. After being informed that it would be ready
in 35 minutes, Mac decided to straighten up the apartment a little while
waiting.
In her rush to get to their session early, she had left the
newspaper on the dining room table along with her coffee mug. Mac eagerly cleared the table, and then moved
to the living room to find a few more distractions. Actually, she was willing to do anything to get her mind off today’s
session, including clean. But everything
kept replaying in her mind like a broken record. Revisiting Harm’s accident and
her aborted wedding during today’s session had drained her emotionally. Every healed wound suddenly ached, and there
wasn’t any medication she could take to cure this pain.
Frustrated, Mac decided that she had had enough analysis for
today. She went into the living room and
started going through her pile of magazines—forcefully tossing them one by one
into the trash can she had brought with her.
“Maybe I’ve had enough of these sessions—period!” Mac said out loud as
she continued her assault on the magazines.
Sighing, she wondered what the alternatives were to this asinine
situation. There was the Admiral’s alternative—conduct unbecoming and contempt
charges. Of course, her alternative was resigning her commission—if it came
down to it. I’m a damn good lawyer—I
could probably make it anywhere, she thought as she took the now-filled trash
can back to its home in the kitchen. Standing there staring at the result of
her cleaning frenzy, Mac was angry. I
can’t believe the Admiral would force us to do this! Harm
and me in therapy—where would he get such an outrageous idea? It’s not
going to solve anything. What a
nightmare, she thought.
Mac went back to the living room and paced. Who was she trying to fool? There was no
way that the Admiral was going to let them off easy, especially after his stern
warnings last week. Resigned to the fact she’d have to grin and bear it for as
long as it was necessary, she would finish what they started. Finally starting to think rationally, she
sighed and said aloud, “It’s all for the best anyway. If something good could come out of this
three ring circus, so be it.” Mac now
focused her attentions on her bookshelf—muttering to herself as she rearranged
all her books. “Right now it’s—no, he’s—making me crazy and irritable!”
****
The doorbell rang, interrupting Mac’s thoughts. Thank God, she said, and with 37 seconds to
spare, no less. Quickly answering the
door, Mac retrieved her meal from the delivery person, paid and tipped
her. She knew once she took care of the
first item on her agenda—eating—then she could indulge herself in a hot bath
and a warm bed.
She headed into the kitchen to retrieve a plate and the
necessary utensils for her meal. The
sweet smell of marinara sauce and cheese permeated the apartment. Mac had been looking forward to this—having
had it before she knew how delicious it was.
She and Harm had ordered from this restaurant before, when they had
gotten together to review notes from a case they were working on. Mac smiled sadly at the memory. Since the bitterness took over the space
where friendship used to be, they hadn’t shared a meal since. Well, who knows where this is going?
Mac moved from the kitchen to the dining room, plate in
hand. Just as she sat down to eat the
phone rang, interrupting her mid-bite.
Annoyed, she picked up the phone on the second ring.
“Mackenzie,” Mac said, a little less than pleasantly.
“Ma’am? . . . Mac,
its Harriet.”
“Hi, Harriet. What’s up?
How’s Bud doing?” Mac asked, relieved that it wasn’t her partner. She silently hoped that Harriet wouldn’t be
curious and ask her about how she was spending her “time off”. Since nothing seems to be kept secret for
long at JAG she figured Harriet had probably heard about the counseling. But, she’d wait until it was brought into the
conversation, rather than bring it up on her own.
“Bud’s coming along fine, Mac. In fact, that’s the reason I’m calling. I need a favor.”
“Sure, Harriet. What do you need?”
“Well, Bud had an appointment for tomorrow morning. We had everything arranged with a sitter for
little AJ. The doctor’s office just
called and changed it to the afternoon.
Now our sitter can’t be here. I
was wondering—and you are under no obligation to say yes—if you can baby-sit
for about 2 hours or so?”
Mac thought about it briefly before answering. “No problem,
Harriet. I have nothing planned. What
time do you need me to be there?”
Actually, Mac thought, it would be a pleasant diversion.
“Are you sure it’s OK?
I don’t want to impose.”
“Harriet, if it wasn’t OK, I wouldn’t have said yes. Now, what time would you like me there?”
“
“Sounds good to me.”
“Thank you so very much Mac.
You have no idea how much you’ve helped us. I was sure we’d have to cancel. With Bud’s PEB coming up, I don’t want
anything to jeopardize his chances of going back to full duty.”
“I’m looking forward to watching little AJ. So, I’ll see you at one, then.”
“
Mac smiled as she clicked off the phone, incredibly grateful
Harriet didn’t mention Harm or the whole incident, for that matter. But, she wasn’t sure she had completely
dodged that bullet—there was still tomorrow.
With that, Mac resumed eating her eggplant, looking forward to the bath
she was going to pamper herself with later.
****
Harm’s apartment
About the same time
Harm’s ride home wasn’t any less stressful; except his worry
came from wondering if Mac was alright, having left their session so
abruptly. He had desperately wanted to
run after her and explain. He wasn’t so
sure Maddie’s stopping him was the right move.
I need to make things right with Mac.
She probably hates me for letting this go too long, he thought. In fact I even hate myself for not telling
her sooner, he sighed, pulling up in front of his apartment.
Getting out of his SUV, he quickly scaled the stairs and
entered his apartment. His first stop
was the answering machine—no new messages.
He picked up the phone to call her but promptly set it down again. Maddie had told him to give her time—wasn’t
45 minutes enough? I just need to know
if she’s alright. I can handle a pissed
off Marine, I just can’t handle it if something happened to her, Harm
thought—again picking up the phone.
Common sense finally over took his impulsiveness, and he decided against
calling her—for now.
Realizing he was hungry, he went into the kitchen to see
what mysteries the refrigerator held.
Nothing, nada, zip. Now
what? Feeling like he was in the mood
for Italian, he found the menu from one of the places he and Mac had ordered
from before. He knew what he wanted
without even scanning the menu.
Referencing it for the phone number, he called his order in, Eggplant
Parmesan with a side salad. He had fond
memories of sharing this dish with Mac a few months back, before . . . well,
before all this happened. Needing
something to fill the time until his dinner arrived, Harm headed off to the
shower.
Exactly 40 minutes later, the delivery person knocked on his
door with his order.
“Popular dish tonight,” she said handing Harm the bag.
“What do you mean?” Harm asked, getting his wallet out to
pay.
“This is the second order of this stuff I’ve delivered in
the past hour and a half,” she said.
“Really?” Harm asked, his curiosity
getting the better of him. “That’s
interesting, um, Alex,” he said, noticing the name on the tag attached to her
shirt.
“Yeah. Go figure. And eggplant isn’t that popular,
especially with a side of meatballs,” she said, as she quizzically looked at
the handsome man standing in the doorway.
“Somebody nearby?”
“No. I delivered it
in
Harm smiled as he paid and generously tipped the delivery
person. Thanking her, he shut the door
and went to the kitchen. Was it a
coincidence or was the other order of Eggplant Parmesan for Mac? Harm assumed it was the latter. Only Mac would order eggplant and
meatballs. Mac was eating, that much he
knew, and that was a good sign. At least
she wasn’t too pissed off to miss a meal.
She always got hungry when she was worked up about something.
He still wished he could call her. Although he had absolutely no clue what he
would say, it would at least be an attempt to communicate with her. Harm decided that he’d eat first, talk
later—that is if she would listen.
****
2000 Local
Mac’s Apartment
Having finished dinner and cleaned up the kitchen, Mac
settled in for the evening. She headed
into the bathroom and filled the tub with hot water. Finding her bottle of lavender bath oil, she
placed two capfuls in the running water.
The air was quickly laced with the soothing fragrance as the bubbles
multiplied in the tub. Mac needed to
relax, the tension was spreading from her inside out and every muscle
ached.
Resigning not to think of Harm or their session any more
tonight, Mac turned on the CD player and grabbed one of her books before
heading into the bathroom. The melodic
strains of Jim Brickman’s piano filled the room. She didn’t want any music with words to cloud
her mind right now. She shed her clothes
and cautiously stepped into the steaming tub, the hot water making her skin
tingle. Mac retrieved her book from the
counter by the sink, careful not to get it wet.
Ah, what a way to relax; I could lay here for hours, she thought.
****
2015
Harm’s Apartment
It was now almost 3 hours since their session abruptly
ended. Harm had contemplated calling Mac
all evening. Whatever distraction he
could find couldn’t replace the need to hear her voice and know she was
OK. He couldn’t stand it any more, so he
picked up the phone and dialed her number quickly. Nothing or no one was going to tell him
otherwise now.
The phone rang 4 times before he heard the click of the
answering machine. He hung up without
leaving a message. Maybe I didn’t dial
the right number, he thought, dialing again, this time a little more
carefully. Again, 4 rings and that
damned machine. This time he listened to
make sure it was her machine. It was,
and still no answer, nor did he leave a message.
Harm was frustrated.
Where can she be? I was sure she
went home—maybe I was wrong about the eggplant, he thought. He wasn’t sure what to do now. The little voice inside his head was telling
her she was probably alright, just busy.
He didn’t bother to listen to it.
Instead, he got his keys and headed out the door and in the direction of
Mac’s apartment.
Eighteen minutes and 11 red lights later, Harm was at Mac’s
door. He had seen her car outside, but
why didn’t she answer the phone? He had
images in his mind of a distraught Mac sobbing her eyes out because of
him. Eager to make things right, he rang
the doorbell and then pounded on the door—very loudly.
Mac didn’t hear the bell, but the pounding sounded like King
Kong was at her doorstep. She extracted
herself from the now tepid water and wrapped her robe around her for warmth—and
to cover herself as well. The building
better be on fire, she thought as she scurried to stop the unbearable knocking.
By the time she got to the door, Harm already had his
“emergency” key out and was using it.
Unsure who her visitor/intruder was, Mac steeled herself. She grabbed the doorknob and yanked the door
open vigorously, nearly causing Harm to tumble to the floor.
Startled, Mac yelled, “What the hell? Harm?”
Harm was equally as startled to see her standing there. She looked like she had just finished taking
a bath. He could smell the scent of
lavender as it mingled with the remaining aroma of Eggplant Parmesan. Lost for words, he just stood there. Grateful that she was OK, he prepared himself
for a verbal assault for his intrusion.
“Why are you here, Harm?” Mac asked, wrapping the robe
tightly around herself in a protective manner.
“Haven’t you heard of an invention called the telephone?”
“I, um, tried to call—twice—there wasn’t any answer.”
“Did you even stop to think that I might be busy?” she said,
angrily motioning to her attire.
“Look, Mac, I was worried.
You left our session . . .”
“I left our session how, Harm? Upset, angry? You’re damn well right I left. Now, if you don’t mind, please leave. ” Mac gestured towards the door for emphasis.
“I’m not in any mood for this right now!”
Harm felt defeated.
All he wanted to do was make sure she was fine. Her anger was blinding her to this fact and
he wasn’t sure how to get her to see it.
“I’m sorry, Mac. I was worried. I know I hurt you before, I just wanted to apologize.” Harm headed for the door, glancing back at
her briefly.
Mac was unsure how to perceive his explanation or his
presence. Although she was angry at him, she was touched just the same. But she also didn’t want to “go there” with
him at the moment. Right before she shut
the door, Mac said quietly, “Thanks.”
Harm smiled softly at her, standing there while she shut the
door. He felt relieved that she was OK,
although he could have gone about it a better way. Maybe she wasn’t as mad at him as he had
thought?
****
0945 local (Tuesday)
Maddie’s office
In between appointments, Maddie decided to give Mac a
call. She needed to arrange the session
for her and Harm on Wednesday, but she was concerned about her present state of
mind, as well. Giving her time to cool
down was appropriate, but she needed to make sure she was fine.
She quickly dialed Mac’s number.
Mac was immersed in the newspaper when the ringing of the
phone broke her trance. Briefly she
considered letting it ring, just in case it was Harm calling. Only after realizing her commitment to
Harriet did she answer.
“Mackenzie.”
“Mac . . . its Maddie. I hope I’m not disturbing you.”
“Hi, Maddie. No, I was just reading the newspaper. What can I do for you?” Mac asked pleasantly,
but reserved. She had the general idea
that there would be a phone call to set up the next session. For as much as she wanted to just say “the
hell with it”, the voice of reason intervened, allowing her to continue the
conversation with Maddie.
“I am calling about setting up tomorrow’s appointment, but I
also want to know if you’re alright. You
left yesterday’s session a bit tense.”
Mac sighed, not knowing how to answer her question. Yes—she was alright. But she was still smarting from Harm’s
comments. She briefly entertained the
idea of telling Maddie about Harm’s “visit” last night, but thought it was
better they discuss it during their session.
“Mac? You
alright?” Maddie asked in a concerned tone, Mac’s silence worrying
her. She hoped that Mac wouldn’t want to
end their sessions so soon. She felt
there were still a lot of unanswered questions to sort through.
Mac finally answered Maddie, “I’m fine. I managed to get a good night’s sleep last
night—I do feel a little better.”
“Good. We will pick
up tomorrow where we left off on Monday."
I thought we’d meet at
“What did Harm say?” Mac asked with just a hint of sarcasm.
“He thought it was fine.
How does your schedule look?”
Mac chuckled, “My schedule is clear for the next 3 weeks.”
“Then I will pencil you both in for Wednesday at five. I’ll see you then, Mac.”
“Bye.”
As Maddie hung up the phone, Zolly jumped onto her desk and
pawed at Harm and Mac’s file folder. She
scratched him behind the ears and said, “So, Zolly, what am I to do with these
two? If I could just get them to realize
it’s love that’s driving them, all would be right in
their world.”
Zolly didn’t have an answer, but nuzzled his head against
Maddie’s hand, hoping for her continued attention behind his left ear.
Maddie pondered her own question for a moment, and then got
nose to nose with Zolly, “What would you know about love and romance
anyway—you’re neutered!”