The Porch Swing

LobsterDoc (ktleepitt@aol.com)


Chapter 12

Sarah MacKenzie staggered through the kitchen toward the sounds and smells of breakfast coming from the back porch. She shielded her eyes against the sun and walked toward the table desperately hoping there was coffee left in the carafe in the center of the table.

"Morning, Mac. Coffee?" Harm asked brightly.

"Ummm," Mac managed to grunt. Her tongue didn't seem to want to work.

The sound of throat clearing dragged Mac's attention to Mattie who was smiling at her, holding out a cup.

Mac reached for the coffee. "Thanks." She sat heavily in the empty chair and took a gulp, savoring the hot bitter liquid as it ran over her tongue and down her throat, reawakening her nerve endings. The elixir was just the way she liked it, strong enough to walk off the table. But this morning even coffee wasn't going to completely clear the fog; this head cold was really kicking her ass.

"Thanks, Mattie. Just the way I like it."

"No problem, Mac. Harm just put a bunch of sugar in his so he could drink it. You want some eggs? We got bacon, too."

She really didn't feel much like eating, but she knew she had to have something. "Sure."

Mattie dished out the food and then excused herself.

"Still feel like crap?" Harm asked patting Mac's hand.

"Yup."

"I missed you last night," he whispered quietly. "It's lonely in the guest bedroom."

"Me, too, but you don't want to catch this, believe me."

"Maybe you should call the doctor. It's been like a week, Mac."

"It's only been three days, I don't have a fever and I started coughing last night. It's just a cold, Harm. That witch's brew of natural crap you gave me seems to be working."

"Hmmph."

"Look if it doesn't ease up over the weekend, I'll call somebody, OK?"

"And you'll stay home from work."

"I'm not that sick, Harm. I don't need to stay home."

"Right, that's why you slept until 9:30."

Whoa. She had no idea it was so late. Apparently the cold was throwing off her internal clock. "OK. If I don't feel better by Monday, I'll go to sick bay. In fact, you can take me, alright?"

Harm gave her hand a final, satisfied pat and sat back in his chair sipping his coffee.

Mac took another sip of her coffee, leaned her head on her elbow and tried to convince herself that she felt better. In fact, the longer she sat on the porch, the worse she felt. The coffee seemed to be sloshing around in her increasingly queasy stomach and her head felt like it weighed a ton. She wanted nothing more than to lie down on their new superdelux glider, but she knew she had to get some food into her.

"I'll feel better after I eat." She forced a forkful of eggs into her mouth. After a few bites, she had to admit she felt some better. She ate a piece of cinnamon toast, buttery and sweet. Her taste buds cheered. She finished off the bacon and sat back, satisfied.

"Thanks, Mattie," she called toward the front of the house.

"No problem," Mattie hollered back.

At Harm's questioning look, she told him she felt much better.

"Good enough to come with us to the corn maze?"

"Corn maze?"

"Yeah, you know, a corn maze. They cut a maze in a corn field and you have to find your way through it."

Mac had no idea what he was talking about and said so.

"You're kidding? You've never been to a corn maze, Mac?"

"No. Apparently you have?"

Mattie answered the question as she came back onto the porch. "Um, yeah, we, ah, my mom and dad and me, used to go every fall when I was a kid. I dragged Harm that first fall. We had a ball."

"Yeah, Mac, it's a real kick. We can get a pumpkin and some cider and donuts."

Mac stared at Harm. Who was this man who wanted to run corn mazes? Had this lovable goofiness been hiding under those uniforms all those years?

"Don't look so surprised, Mac. I do know how to have some fun, you know."

"So I've noticed. When does the bus leave for this field trip?"

"Well as soon as we can all get ready, I thought we could take a leisurely drive, grab a late lunch and then head for the maze."

"They have corn mazes in California?"

"Yup. It's a bit of a drive, but not bad. We can even pick some apples at their orchard."

"Oh, I love apple picking."

Grabbing her plate she stood and turned to head for the kitchen when the world tilted sideways. She dropped the coffee cup and plate, grabbing for the corner of the table, to no avail. Only Harm's arms around her waist kept her upright. Her stomach churned and her vision swam as Harm pushed her gently into the chair she had just left.

He knelt in front of her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Hey, you OK? Mac, talk to me."

Mac shook her head trying to clear it. "Yeah, yeah, I'm ok. I just got up too fast."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, I'm OK."

"You want to try that move again?"

"Yeah." Mac reached for Harm's arm, just to steady herself. She stood and immediately regretted it. The lightheadedness had passed, but her stomach churned ominously. She sank back into the chair, breathing slowly through pursed lips, hoping to get control of her rebellious digestive tract.

"You're not OK."

"No, I guess not. Maybe I should lie down for a while."

"Sit here. I'll be right back."

Mac rested her pounding head on the table. She felt like crap. She wasn't really sleepy but she just didn't have the energy to get up off the chair. Harm was right; she was officially sick. Harm's gentle hand on her shoulder as he walked past interrupted her wallowing. She raised her head to see him putting pillows and a blanket on the swing.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm fixing up a place for you to rest while I run a couple of errands. Mattie's going to stay here so you won't be alone."

She was sick, but not too sick to feel insulted. "Just a second, Harm. I am perfectly capable of staying here by myself."

"Yeah, unless you try to stand up."

"I'll take it easy if I have to move around. Mattie was looking forward to this afternoon. I'll just lay here and read a book. I'll be fine."

"Wanna bet?" Harm smirked at her.

"Really, Mac, it's OK. I don't mind staying." Mac hadn't realized Mattie was standing behind her.

Mac glared at Mattie and then back at Harm. She rose carefully to her feet, swayed for a moment and then successfully walked to where Harm stood next to the swing. "Ta da. See, I'm fine by myself. I just need to take it slow."

She sat on the swing and stretched out, rearranging the pillows behind her head. Harm threw a blanket over her and touched his lips to her cheek. "You're warm, Mac."

"OK, so maybe I have a little fever. I'm fine, Harm. Really. I'll just lay here wrapped in a blanket and read, if you can grab that Harry Potter off my nightstand. Mattie was looking forward to this afternoon and so were you. Go. Have fun. I'll be fine here. Just remember to bring me some cider and donuts."

"If you're sure?"

"I am. Go. Have a good time."

Harm went looking for her novel while Mattie stared at her doubtfully.

"Really Mattie, I'm OK. I just need some rest."

Mattie snorted but had the sense not to actually argue.

"Hey Mattie, you want to take your chair just in case?" Harm yelled from the front of the house.

Mattie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, that's probably a good idea. Drag it out the front. I'll meet you at the car." She moved toward the door. "Take it easy, Mac. Hope you feel better."

"Thanks, Mattie. Have a good time."

Harm made one more trip to the porch, kissing Mac on the cheek and leaving her book and a pitcher of water. "Bye."

"Bye. Have fun."

Mac spent the next 4 hours and 46 minutes reading, catnapping, blowing her nose, drinking herbal tea with mint and eucalyptus and eating saltines. Her stomach finally settled, her head cleared a bit, no surprise considering that she had gone through nearly an entire box of tissues, and she had developed a nagging cough, a sure sign that her sinuses were clearing up. She even managed to climb the steps to the bedroom and put on a sweatshirt, jeans and heavy socks. Feeling more human, she found herself looking forward to some warm cider and a donut and maybe even some dinner later. She was sure she would feel well enough by Monday morning to go to work and to keep Harm from dragging her to sick bay; but Vukovic better not mess with her.

Just as she got herself resettled on the glider, Mac heard Harm and Mattie arguing good naturedly as they came around the corner of the house.

She watched, amused, as Harm struggled to push Mattie's chair up the ramp toward the door. The chair, however, was not occupied by Mattie, she was coming behind Harm using her crutches. In her place, was the largest pumpkin Mac had ever seen.

She gaped as Harm opened the door and wrestled the enormous orange gourd onto the table on the far end of the porch. He turned, breathing heavily, an ear splitting grin on his face. "What do you think, Mac? Some pumpkin, huh?"

"My God, Harm, it's huge! What do you plan to do with it?"

"What do you mean 'what do I plan to do with it?' I plan to carve the jack-o'-lantern to end all jack-o'-lanterns. We can roast the seeds and I'll make some pie and pumpkin bread. It'll be great!"

Mac exchanged a glance with Mattie, who looked as skeptical as Mac felt. "I told him it was too big, but he wouldn't listen. There's like three bushels of apples in the car, plus cider and donuts. He bought out the entire farm stand."

"Well, Mac, couldn't come with us. I wanted it to be special."

"What are you going to use to cut it, Harm, a machete?" Mattie just wouldn't let up on him.

Harm laughed. "Just keep it up, Mats and you won't get any cider or roasted pumpkin seeds." He stepped toward the door. "Be right back."

Mattie flopped onto the overstuffed chair in the corner next to the glider, wincing as she dropped her crutches to the floor.

Mac was immediately concerned. "You OK?"

Mattie sighed. "Yeah, just tired."

"Have a good time?"

"Yeah. I even managed to do the whole maze without the chair, but I'll be paying for it tomorrow. How you feeling?"

"Not bad, actually. I guess food and rest were really what I needed."

"Cool."

Harmed stepped into the porch and wrestled the bags onto the table. He reached into one and yelled "Heads up", hurling an apple toward Mac.

Mac caught it, laughing. "Watch it, flyboy. I'm feeling a lot better. You'll be sorry if you try that again."

"Really?" Harm asked quietly, advancing on her. "What are you going to do about it?" He kissed her.

"I don't know," she whispered breathlessly, returning his kiss. "I'll have to think of something."

"Hmmm. I'll look forward to it." He pulled back. "But in the meantime I need to get working on my Halloween masterpiece."

Harm walked into the kitchen and returned in a moment with an electric carving knife. He plugged it in and revved it a couple of times, an excited smile on his face.

Mac exchanged a glance with Mattie and burst out laughing. "What are you going to do with that?"

"Carve the pumpkin."

"You don't think that's a bit of overkill?"

"Well, Mac," Harm explained with mock seriousness. "I considered using my jigsaw, but I thought that might be a bit much." He revved the knife again and waggled his eyebrows. "Anybody wanna help?"

Mac begged off, not wanting to push it now that she was feeling better, but Mattie, apparently getting her second wind, went to change her clothes. Harm grabbed a marker out of one of the grocery bags and began drawing on the pumpkin. Mac couldn't take her eyes off him. He was bent over the pumpkin, his tongue peeking out of his mouth, his brows furrowed in concentration. For a minute she could see the little boy he used to be. This was, for sure, her favorite side of him, the fun-loving, borderline goofy side; the man who carved pumpkins, built bonfires and talked to dogs as if they could understand every word. This Harm took so much pleasure in the simple joys of life. How had she overlooked him for all those years? No matter, she had found him now and she would never let him go. She sank into the pillows just enjoying the view.

Mattie came back to the porch in her chair, a pile of newspaper and paper bags on her lap. "I thought we might want to spread some papers around."

Harm looked up from his work. "Great idea. Why don't you cover stuff while I finish the prep work."

"OK."

Mattie spread the paper on every available surface within splashing distance of the pumpkin. "I can sort the seeds from the goo once you scoop some out. Do you have a spoon and a bowl?"

"Nope. Can you grab them?"

"Sure." Mattie reached under the pile of paper producing a bowl and spoon.

Harm cut a hole in the top of the pumpkin and scooped a substantial mound of innards into a pile on the paper. As Mattie began to sort the seeds and edible pumpkin from the junk, Harm went to work carving the pumpkin. Orange mist rose from the knife, coating everything nearby in a fine orange mist including Harm's face, hair and clothes. Every few minutes he would stop and check his work, adjusting the openings when necessary. After 40 minutes, he stood back, admiring his work. He first turned the "face" toward Mattie who nodded her approval.

He turned the pumpkin toward Mac, who laughed, delighted at Harm's masterpiece. He had carved faces on two sides of the pumpkin: one goofy, with a gap toothed smile and googly eyes, and the other decidedly menacing. The thing was damn near a work of art.

"Oh my god, Harm, that's amazing. You've obviously done this before."

"Actually, the design idea was Mattie's."

"Well, nice job. You guys make a great team. That's fabulous."

"Yeah, it did come out pretty nice," Mattie accepted Mac's kudos. "And we have enough pumpkin to make like a gazillion pies."

"Good. I love pumpkin pie." Mac's mouth was watering just thinking about it.

"I'll get this thing back onto the porch and light it. Why don't you clean up and get dinner ready, Mattie."

"I can help clean up." Mac started to rise from the swing.

Mattie waved her off. "Nope. You stay put. Catch another nap if you need to. I've got this. In fact, I think I'm just going to grab a sandwich and crash, if you guys don't mind."

"Really, Mattie, I can help."

"That's OK. You can clean the kitchen tomorrow after Harm gets done baking."

"Hmm. That doesn't actually sound like a very fair trade. But OK, you're on."

Mac leaned back. Within what seemed like seconds, Harm was jostling her awake. "Oh. Did I fall asleep?"

"Yeah, you took a little nap, but that's probably what you need. You hungry?" He put a tray of cheese, crackers, sliced apples and mugs of cider on a folding table and pulled it over next to the swing. He helped her sit up, making sure the blanket was still tucked tightly around her, and handed her a mug of cider. He wrapped an arm around her and they shared the light dinner as the sun set.

When they finished eating she snuggled against him. He placed a soft kiss on her temple. The sky was slowly fading from red to purple. The porch was illuminated only by the flickering light from the jack-o'-lantern. A lightly pumpkin-scented smoke wafted across the porch, pleasantly tickling her nose.

As she often did in these quiet moments, she marveled at how wonderful life could be.

Chapter 13

It was a gorgeous fall evening, unseasonably warm, even for southern California, with a breeze blowing off the water. The setting sun colored everything a blazing pink. But Mac, sitting on the new glider on her back porch, appreciated none of the beauty of the scene. She was much too preoccupied to notice.

She had felt like crappola for a couple of weeks. Even after all traces of the office cold had disappeared from her system, her stomach continued its mutinous behavior. No matter how many Rolaids she popped, she was having trouble keeping down anything more substantial than tea and toast. To her great dismay, she couldn't be around a cup of coffee; just the smell made her nauseous.

She had done her best to hide her illness, making excuses that she was switching to tea because she needed to cut down on caffeine, that she was too busy to eat, or the weakest excuse, that she was dieting. Harm had become increasingly suspicious, and he certainly wasn't reassured when she had practically bolted from the breakfast table.

Vukovic had been in rare form, hassling her female personnel, but stopping just short of harassment; playing it fast and loose with courtroom decorum and etiquette, but just short of contempt; smirking at her insolently when she attempted to reprimand him, but

stopping just shy of chargeable insubordination. She was ready to strangle him. She didn't think she would be able to hold out much longer, even if it did mean destroying Creswell's golden child and her chances of promotion with him.

She had been trying to ignore how crappy she felt, hoping that she could make it to the weekend and that two days of rest would fix it once and for all. Harm would be in Washington, and Mattie was planning to spend Saturday on the town with Jen. She would be alone, something she had not experienced for several months. She was so looking forward to a day all to herself. Then her yeoman had ruined it.

It wasn't Coates' fault. In fact, she probably had no idea that her act of kindness had not had the desired effect. When Mac returned to her office after morning staff call, she found a sleeve of saltines, a cold bottle of ginger ale, and a note from Coates. 'For your stomach. Hope you feel better.' Chagrin that she had been so transparent had been her first reaction. Then saltines and ginger ale had rung a bell, several bells. Initially she had denied it; it couldn't be that easy. Then she had checked her mental calendar. Maybe it was that easy. Her nausea intensified as the afternoon wore on, despite the crackers and soda. She tried to ignore the idea pricking the back of her mind, but by 1500 she could not let the question go unanswered any longer. She told Coates she was securing for the day and stopped at the pharmacy on her way home.

She had practically run to the bathroom when she got home. She had tried to stay rational, to tell herself that the chances were minimal, that life just wasn't like this, that there was no way that her dreams could have come true, but her excitement had won over and she had let herself hope. After three minutes she had checked each stick.

And now she was trying to come to terms with the results.

Negative. Negative. Negative.

All three tests had been negative. There was no miracle. There would be no celebration of their good fortune when Harm returned. Whatever had set her stomach rolling, it wasn't their four percent solution.

Bitter tears burned her eyes as she thought about the long empty weekend stretching out before her. As soon as Mattie got back from therapy Jen would be here to pick her up for their girl's weekend out. Mac would be alone with her thoughts. Solitude, which once seemed so welcome, now looked bleak and desolate. Why had she let herself get her hopes up? Why had she jumped to conclusions? Her symptoms could be caused by dozens of things. Why had she allowed herself to think she might actually be carrying a child?

From the front of the house she heard the cab dropping Mattie after her therapy. Mac hastily grabbed the pregnancy tests and threw them in the trash, splashed some water on her face, and put the kettle on to boil.

Mattie came into the kitchen, balanced on one crutch, and removed her backpack. "Hey Mac."

"Hey Mattie."

"Whoa. You don't look too good. You still sick?"

So much for stealth. "Yeah, my stomach is still revolting."

"You allergic to that Vic guy?"

Mac bit back a chuckle. "That's Lieutenant Vukovic to you, Mattie. And no, I don't think I'm allergic too him. We, ah, have different approaches."

"He's a jerk?"

"Mattie."

"Sorry," she apologized dismissively. "So you still feel pretty gross."

The kettle whistled. Mac turned off the burner, poured herself a cup of tea and sat at the kitchen table where Mattie was digging into a plate of cookies and a tall glass of milk.

"You didn't answer my question."

Mac sighed. "Yeah, I still feel pretty crappy. I must have caught some intestinal thing on top of my cold."

"Maybe you should see somebody."

"If I don't feel better by the end of the weekend, I will."

"You want me to stay home tonight? You know, um, keep you company?" She sounded like she hoped Mac would decline her offer.

Mac considered the offer in the spirit of generosity with which it was intended. Did she want company? No, she had actually been looking forward to some solitude and that hadn't changed.

"Thanks, Mattie. You go ahead and have a great time with Jen. I was actually looking forward to some time to myself."

"OK. I better go pack or I won't be ready when Jen gets here."

"I'm going to change my clothes and then lie down for a while. Let me know when you leave."

"OK."

Mac changed into sweats, grabbed her book, and went back to the porch. She lay on the glider and threw the blanket haphazardly across her legs. The next thing she knew, Mattie was waking her gently, tucking the blanket up around her neck.

"I'm leaving now, Mac. Take it easy, OK?

"'Night, Mattie."

"'Night."

Mac snuggled under the blanket and went to sleep, visions of pregnancy tests and baby bottles dancing in her head, and awoke with her stomach growling. After a sumptuous repast -- two pieces of pumpkin pie -- she fell asleep. For the first time in ages, she slept late the next morning dramatically improved. She read for a while, cat napped, and ate some of Harm's pumpkin bread and two pieces of pumpkin pie. She had found a cure for her mysterious illness. Pumpkin!

She and Mattie spent Sunday together, just hanging on the porch reading and napping. By the time Harm got home Sunday night, Mac, renewed in body and spirit, had come up with a plan to make their dreams come true.

Chapter 14

Mac sat on the porch swing watching an impromptu water balloon fight. The barbeque for her staff and their families was well under way. The weather was glorious. Everybody seemed to be having a great time, eating and talking, sailing, playing volleyball on the lawn or just hanging. She had even consented to letting Snowball join the party and the princess had been on her best behavior. She loved everybody and everybody loved her back.

Snowball had entered their lives when Mattie had accompanied Jen to the shelter to help her pick out a kitten to keep her company in her new apartment. But strolling past the puppies, Mattie had fallen in love with a toy poodle. Mattie begged to adopt the tiny ball of white fluff, promising to take care of her, promising that she wouldn’t ever be a problem, promising that Mac and Harm would never regret saying yes. Mac had not been convinced that a dog was a good idea, but Harm had negotiated on Mattie's behalf and Mac had relented.

As soon as Mattie brought the dog home, Mac's suspicions were confirmed. The dog, though little and fluffy, had enormous feet. Harm, of course, was unconcerned. Mac questioned Mattie repeatedly about the dog's pedigree getting the same answer each time. But now, three months later, it was clear Snowball was no toy poodle. She was huge and getting bigger all the time.

And so was her appetite. She ate an enormous amount of food and anything else she could get into her mouth. She especially liked everything "Mac". First the princess ate a brand new pair of pumps, then a cell phone. Mac's cover and various other uniform parts and items of clothing followed. Nothing deterred the canine eating machine from chewing Mac's property. Mattie's or Harm's possessions were apparently nowhere near as tasty. Harm found the whole situation endlessly amusing.

The working hypothesis was that Snowball ate Mac's stuff as a demented sign of doggy affection. Though Mattie had adopted Snowball, the sweetie pie had really become Mac's dog. It was Mac who Snowball greeted each morning with wet, sloppy kisses. When Mac dozed on the swing, Snowball managed to wedge herself onto the swing, lying across Mac's legs, softly snoring and covering Mac in white dog hair. Publicly, Mac was annoyed; secretly, she loved it.

A shadow passing over her interrupted her cheerful thoughts. She looked up, shading her eyes with her hand, barely suppressing a sigh.

"Lieutenant."

"Ma'am."

"I'm surprised to see you here, Lieutenant. Your last progress report didn't sound very promising."

Vukovic smirked. "Actually Ma'am, I got a confession from the couple this morning. They agreed to non-judicial punishment and the staff sergeant is going to retire. I got here as soon as I could. Didn't even change clothes. I just couldn't miss the festivities, Ma'am."

Mac paused to collect her thoughts, trying to keep from saying something she would regret later. Vukovic was such a boot licker. She hated boot lickers.

But before she could formulate a response, the princess intervened, walking toward them tail wagging, tongue hanging out of her mouth.

"Well, hello there. You must be the princess I've heard so much about." Vukovic reached down to pat Snowball on the head.

"Careful, Lieutenant."

"Nonsense, Ma'am. Dogs love…" the protest died on his lips as Snowball snarled at him.

Mac reached for the shaggy head. "Easy girl. He's a friend." She nearly choked on the words, but Snowball clearly didn't need to protect anybody from the likes of Greg Vukovic. If the dog bit him, Mac was sure Vukovic would sue.

"She's just nervous with all the new people."

"Of course, Ma'am. I'm sure I'll win her over later." He smiled that ingratiating smile she hated so much.

"Well, enjoy yourself, Lieutenant." Mac rose and went in search of Harm. As usual, Snowball followed her, but only after turning to bare her teeth in Vukovic's direction.

Mac found Harm standing with the hose, spraying some of the younger children. Snowball joined the wriggling mass of wet bodies nipping at the water and wrestling with the kids. She really was great with children. In fact, Vukovic was the only one she didn't like. Mac had to admire how discerning the princess was in picking friends.

Harm greeted Mac with a quick kiss on the cheek and wrapped his arm around her.

"Was that Vukovic? I didn't think he was going to be here."

"I sent him to Quantico to straighten out a fraternization case, hoping it would keep him there for a couple more days."

"You sent him to handle a fraternization case? Isn't that kind of like having the fox guard the henhouse?"

Mac chuckled. "I suppose, but I was hoping he'd remember why he liked DC and want to stay there. Too much to hope for."

"Probably."

"Well at least the princess doesn't like him much."

"Really? You're kidding? She likes everybody."

"She growled at him. It was the strangest thing."

"That's my girl."

"I felt the same way, but we really shouldn't encourage her."

"Probably not."

Harm shut off the hose to a chorus of disappointed groans. "So you guys hungry again?"

The kids and the princess beat him to the grill. When there as no food immediately forthcoming, the princess headed toward the crowd under the shady tree, apparently in search of more food.

Vukovic intercepted her, holding out his hand, and cooing at her. "Hey girl. Aren't you beautiful?" He leaned down cautiously.

As Harm and Mac looked on, Snowball sniffed the proffered hand suspiciously, backed away and urinated unceremoniously on Vukovic's pristine left pant leg.

"Snowball. NO!" Mac yelled, grabbing the dog and turning to the victim, who was shaking his leg as if trying to dry it off.

"No harm done, Ma'am. I need to do laundry tonight anyway."

Mac's mortification was so intense, it made her forget her distaste for a moment. "I'm so sorry, Greg. Why don't you get some food? The grill's still hot. Let Harm know what you want."

"Thank you, Ma'am. I'll do that."

Mac sighed, trying to ignore the stifled laughter from the peanut gallery, and leaned over, stroking Snowball's head. "I know just how you feel, sweetheart, but you cannot pee on my personnel. OK?"

Snowball responded with a face-washing kiss. Mac took that as an affirmative.

Later that evening…

Mac was stretched out on the porch swing watching Harm try to salvage her favorite lawn chair. Actually, if she were completely honest, the chair was Snowball's favorite too. The damage to the cushions was actually Snowball's fault.

After the embarrassing pee incident, Mac had spent the rest of the afternoon trying to keep her least favorite staff member away from the princess. It worked for a while and Mac let her guard down. Of course, Mattie didn't help matters. She could have warned Vukovic about Snowball's favorite chair but Mattie's sometimes perverse sense of humor had clouded her judgment. She let Vukovic sit in the princess's favorite lawn chair when Mac went into the house to make a phone call. Harm was no help either.

Snowball had protested, growling and trying to eject Vukovic from the chair. Her chair. Only Mac was allowed the privilege of sitting in that chair. So, as soon as Vukovic got up to get a drink, Snowball saw her chance. She climbed up on the cushion and surreptitiously defecated.

Vukovic came back to the chair and apparently considering it a challenge, removed the dog from the chair and sat. Without looking.

The ensuing chaos had caused Mac to disconnect her call. She walked out onto the porch to see most her personnel laughing hysterically, Harm cuddling Snowball and Greg Vukovic retching in the bushes.

She had sent Vukovic home with an apology, glared the rest of her personnel into silence, put Snowball in her kennel, and reamed Harm and Mattie. What had they been thinking? They didn't like Vukovic and neither did she, but she couldn't allow her personal feelings to spill over into her command. She was convinced that she would eventually find something to use to remove Vukovic from her life, but until then she would treat him fairly and that included keeping the dog from attacking him.

Harm had tried to defend himself. He had no idea what Snowball had done. He hadn't meant to enjoy it. He did think it was terrible. But the whole time he was talking, he was on the verge of laughter. That didn't make it any easier for Mac to keep a straight face. Hosing down the lawn chair seemed like a fitting punishment.

She looked up as he walked toward the porch, a dripping cushion in his hand. He sniffed the cushion and wrinkled his nose.

"Yuck. No matter what I use, I just can't get the smell out."

"Never mind Harm. At least you tried."

He dropped the cushion on the ground, walked onto the porch and joined her on the swing. He wrapped both arms around her and gently kissed her on the cheek.

"So, are we even now?" He whined.

Mac giggled and kissed him on the forehead.

"No way, flyboy. Not even close."