The Porch Swing

LobsterDoc (ktleepitt@aol.com)

Chapter 9

Mattie was sitting in her wheelchair apparently staring into space when Mac stepped out on the porch. Her fists, clenched in her lap, and the slump of her shoulders made it obvious that something was bothering her. Mac paused for a moment, wondering how to handle the situation. Normally she would just let Harm know Mattie was hurting, but Harm was doing one of his clandestine weekends at the Pentagon. She was going to have to handle this herself. She didn't think it could wait until Harm got back. And if she knew what was disturbing Mattie she, not Harm, might be the best one to handle this. She stepped into the abyss.

"Hey Mattie, you're up early."

"Couldn't sleep."

"Me neither. You OK?"

"Sure." She sounded anything but.

Mac sat on the edge of the swing, next to Mattie's chair. "You want to talk about it?"

"No thanks."

From her perch on the swing, Mac couldn't help but notice the envelope clutched in Mattie's fist. She felt her own posture slump as her suspicions were confirmed. This problem was hers to handle.

She laid her hand on Mattie's arm, hoping to get her attention. "Talk to me, Mattie."

Mattie refused to look at her, so she brought out the big guns, knowing full well her next statement could cause more problems than it solved.

"Um, I know about the letter."

That did the trick. Mattie whirled toward Mac, furious, her face bright red with anger. "So now you're reading my mail? I can't believe you did that! Harm would never do that! Who do you think you are?" She shook her arm loose from Mac's hand and pushed her wheelchair toward the door. "I gotta get out of here!"

Dismayed, Mac grabbed the chair preventing Mattie from leaving. "Please, Mattie, wait. Let me explain?" she asked calmly.

"Explain! How can you explain? I can't believe you did this to me! Let me go!" Mattie was in full lather, months of frustration at her immobility and pent up adolescent angst were bubbling to the surface, and Mac was directly in their path.

Mac felt her own temper rising, but did her best to reign it in. Having a screaming match with Mattie would accomplish nothing and only leave them both with hurt feelings. Keeping her hand on the arm of Mattie's chair, Mac took a deep breath and reminded herself that Mattie was a 16 year old girl who had had a hell of a year. She gently touched Mattie's arm again.

"Mattie, I didn't invade your privacy. You are a minor living under my roof. I have the responsibility to protect you. When I see a letter addressed to you I am going to check the return address. It's part of my job, Mattie." As Mac was talking, Mattie began to calm down. Her face regained its natural color, and her arm relaxed in Mac's grip.

"I'm sorry," Mattie offered, her voice flat. "But I just don't think you can help me with this. And don't suggest I talk to Harm when he gets back. He can't help me either. I know how he feels about my father."

"I honestly don't know what Harm thinks about your father. But you can talk to me, Mattie. I know a little bit about what you're going through."

"Mac, I don't think being an alcoholic is the same as living with one. No offense."

Mac bit her tongue, knowing a retort would only inflame the situation. "None taken. Do you mind if I get a cup of coffee and share the porch with you?"

"Suit yourself."

Mac stood and went to the kitchen, grabbed a cup of coffee for herself and Mattie and went back to the porch. She handed Mattie the cup.

"Thanks." Mattie looked at Mac for the first time without rancor.

Mac settled herself on the swing. They sipped in tense silence for several minutes while Mac formulated a plan. She knew the best thing for Mattie was to talk about that letter, or it would continue to eat at her. The not knowing would be worse, much worse, long term than knowing. But it was impossible for Mattie to see that. She was too young and without the benefit of hindsight. Mac, herself, had not known how seeing her father and mother would effect her. Harm hadn't really known either, but he had urged her to face her past, and she was better for it. Mattie's gut instinct was to run from her father, and Mac could not let her do it.

"What did your father want?" She asked carefully.

"I don't know," Mattie mumbled.

"You didn't open the letter." It was a statement, not a question.

"No. I don't want to open it." The defiance was back in her voice.

"You don't have to," Mac assured her.

"But you think I should."

"No, I think you should do whatever you want to do; whatever is right for you."

"You think I should forgive him."

"No, Mattie, I don't. This isn't about him. It's about you."

"Right." The sarcasm was back too.

As Mattie started to wheel herself toward the kitchen, Mac grabbed the chair again.

"Don't go, Mattie, I'll go." She rose to leave, but instead turned toward Mattie. "For what it's worth, my father was an alcoholic. I HAVE been where you are." She turned to leave.

"Your father was a drunk?"

Mac turned back toward Mattie. "Yeah."

"Harm never told me that."

Mac shrugged. "It wasn’t his story to tell."

Mattie's intense interest seemed to bore a hole straight to Mac's soul. "Did he ever stop drinking?"

Mac stalled. She hadn't really been planning to talk about herself. "Who, my dad?"

Mattie snorted.

Mac looked at the coffee cup in her hand, deliberately avoiding Mattie's gaze. "I don't know."

"How come?"

"He died six years ago."

"So that's why he wasn't at the wedding. Is your Mom dead too?"

"Um…I don't know."

"You don't know if your mother is dead or alive?" Mattie's voice was incredulous.

Mac sighed. This was not exactly what she wanted, but maybe if she told Mattie the story, it would help her open up. Maybe all that stuff could actually come to some good. She made her decision.

"It's a long story. Let me refill my coffee and we'll talk." She grabbed Mattie's cup, went into the kitchen, refilled them both, and stepped out on to the porch.

She settled herself on the swing and waited for Mattie to find a comfortable spot for her chair. She steeled herself, staring into her coffee cup as if it held the courage she needed to revisit her childhood, chagrined that her story was still so hard to tell after so many years.

Her discomfort must have been visible, because Mattie gently touched her arm. "It's ok if you don't want to talk about it, Mac."

Mac raised her head, and catching the compassion on Mattie's face, found her story welling up, yearning to be loose. Mattie, at 16 - after her mother's death, her father's betrayal and an accident which could change the entire course of her life - was still capable of empathizing with another person's pain. By Mattie's age, Mac had thought herself unsalvageable and unlovable. Only Uncle Matt had thought her worth any effort. She would tell her story to Mattie, if only so Mattie would not make the same mistakes that had nearly destroyed her own life. She took a sip of coffee and plunged in.

"I spent most of my childhood trying to please my father or get out of his way, but it was impossible. I…I always made him angry no matter how hard I tried, no matter what I did. He would always apologize to us - he didn't mean it; he would never do it again - but he always broke his promises." She paused, swallowing and clearing her throat before she could continue.

"I would lay awake at night and listen to them fight. It would start out with him yelling; dinner was cold; the house wasn't clean enough; the laundry wasn't done just right; and…and she would try to explain, to appease him. It always ended the same way. He would hit her, she would cry out in pain, then…then they would both be sobbing. I honestly don't know how she put up with it for so long …or why." She paused and took a sip of coffee, trying to still her shaking hands and calm her queasy stomach so she could finish the story.

"When I was fifteen my mother couldn't take it any more and she ran away."

"So you got out."

Mac started at Mattie's interruption. She had almost forgotten she wasn't alone. "Um, no. My mother got out…but…um…she didn't take me with her," she finished quietly.

"What?" Mattie shouted. Mac shied away involuntarily. "She left you with him?" Mattie asked more quietly.

The sympathy in Mattie's voice drew Mac out of her reverie. She smiled ruefully at Mattie who returned the smile. "Yup. She just disappeared. I started drinking almost right away. I stayed with my dad until I turned seventeen, and then ran away myself."

"Did you ever see him again?"

"Yes. Several years ago I got a phone call from a priest. My father was dying in a hospice and wanted to see me. Harm talked me into going out to see him."

"What did you say to him?"

"I didn't. He was unconscious when I got there, and he never woke up."

"That sucks."

Mac chuckled. "Yeah, it did."

"So what happened?"

"The priest told me everything that my father had told him - showed me that my father had followed my career; that he had actually loved me even if it was nearly impossible to see. He also showed me that the anger I was carrying was hurting me much more than it was hurting my father."

"What do you mean?"

"Mattie, I was so angry that I was willing to destroy myself just so I wouldn't have to think about him. The anger and hate was so heavy it was dragging me under, drowning me. It made it impossible for me to trust anybody, including myself. I always thought the worst of people, even those who obviously cared about me. I tried to rely only on myself. It was a very lonely way to live."

"So just forgiving your father fixed that?"

Mac chuckled again. "Don't I wish." She stood and walked to the windows and looked out at the fog rolling off the water. She turned back around toward Mattie and leaned against the window sill. "I was really messed up for a long time, Mattie. I thought I had dealt with my anger at my father and mother, but I hadn't, not really. I'm not sure I've really dealt with it yet. I'm still working on it."

"You think that if I don't deal with my dad that I'll be messed up, too?"

"I don't know, Mattie. Maybe not, but do you want to take the chance? All you have to do is find out what your dad wants. You don't have to embrace him, or accept him in any way. You don't have to write back to him. You don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with. But I do think you should read the letter…When you're ready."

Mattie looked thoughtfully at her. "There's more to that story, isn't there?"

"Yeah, it's a pretty sordid tale, but you know the highlights."

"Or low lights."

"Hey! That wasn't very nice." Mac swatted Mattie's arm.

Mattie grinned mischievously.

Mac grinned back, basking in the glow of successfully handling a potential crisis and the warmth of newfound closeness with Mattie. "Hey, are you hungry?"

"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am. What did you have in mind?"

"How about the breakfast buffet at the diner by the base?"

Mattie all but licked her chops. "Perfect. With Mr. Healthy Food out of town we can eat as much crap as we want and not have him all over us. I'll meet you at the car in five." Mattie wheeled rapidly off of the porch, laughing all the way.

Chapter 10

This was Mac's favorite way to spend the evening, on the swing, enveloped in Harm's arms, snuggling and talking quietly about their respective days. The setting sun bathed the porch in a warm pink glow, seagulls called overhead and a cooling breeze drifted across the porch like a whisper. Harm sighed contentedly in her ear and she sighed in reply, kissing his temple and pulling him closer.

"I love this time of day."

"Me too," Harm mumbled.

"I love San Diego."

"Me too."

"I love you."

"Yeah, me too," he whispered drowsily.

"Hey. Are you asleep?" Mac asked, a bit affronted. It was pretty early to be falling asleep. And besides, she had great hope for this evening.

Harm shifted in her arms and groaned. "No, just relaxed. Why, you got big plans for the evening?" he teased.

Disappointment flashed. She really had been planning a seduction but it seemed that Harm was not feeling very receptive. A retort rose to the surface and she bit her tongue, literally, to prevent the cutting remark from escaping. She had a few tricks up her sleeve yet. A feral smile crept across her face; a challenge had been issued and she would accept.

"Actually I did have some ideas," she crooned into his ear, before giving it a nibble.

"Hmmm."

She kissed him behind the ear and flicked her tongues against his ear lobe.

"Mac." Her name flowed out toward her laden with desire and promise. Maybe this would be easier than she thought.

She moved down to his collar bone planning kisses along the edge of his t-shirt and into the hollow of his throat.

"Are you trying to seduce me?" he chuckled.

"Is it working?" She murmured between kisses.

"I believe it is." He kissed the top of her head and shifted position so his hands were free. He unbuttoned the top of her shirt and kissed the hollow of her throat.

Her breath quickened as he continued to kiss her. Laughter bubbled up out of her throat as she teetered on the edge of control. Harm's answering laughter spurred her on. She redoubled her efforts, kissing him repeatedly as she felt his body respond and she responded in return, heedless of location or time of day, immersed in the dance that was at once so new yet so familiar.

Harm rolled, bringing her with him. Instinctively she put her hand out to steady herself and grabbed nothing but air. She felt herself sliding into space and twisted to right herself, shrieking with laughter. Somehow she managed to get into a sitting position and land on her feet. As she stood, Harm's arm snaked around her waist trying to drag her back onto the swing.

Laughing, she protested breathlessly. "Not here, Harm! Upstairs!"

He pulled her back to the swing, growling, and began nibbling on the back of her neck. She felt herself spiraling out of control, in a delirium of passion. She so loved this man! As she twisted her body to return his kiss, there was a loud groan from somewhere and she was plummeting, literally. And just as suddenly, with a flash of pain and a loud crash, she came back to earth.

For 48 seconds she simply lay there, trying to figure out what had happened. Her head hurt and her wrist. Something was wrong but she couldn't quite wrap her head around it. She was laying on something soft. Harm! She opened her eyes and realized that they were lying on the floor amidst a pile of debris. What the heck? Beneath her Harm stirred.

"Harm, are you ok?"

"I, ah, think so," he gasped, his pain-filled voice betraying him.

"Where are you hurt?"

"My back, where else?" He sounded resigned.

She scrambled to get off of him, but discovered the reason for her wrist pain. Her arm was pinned under Harm.

"Harm can you shift so I can get my arm out?"

He groaned and she moved to stop him from hurting himself. His back was touchy enough, she hoped he hadn't really injured himself.

"Easy, Harm, I just need a little room. Can you lift up?"

"Yeah, Mac, it's not that bad, just sore." He lifted up and she pulled her arm out, flexing her fingers. Satisfied that her hand was not badly injured, she turned her attention to Harm.

She stroked his face, noticing a bruise on his cheekbone. She undoubtedly had a matching one above her eye. "How bad is it, Harm. Can you sit up?"

"Yeah," he groaned, using her to leverage himself carefully into a sitting position. Still a bit bleary eyed, he scanned the debris around them, smiling and then laughing.

She joined him. "I guess we need a new swing. Unless you can fix it?"

Harm surveyed the pieces off wood ruefully. "I'm good with my hands, Mac, but I'm not a magician."

"No I guess not." She struggled to her knees, waiting for the touch of dizziness to pass off. As she struggled to her feet Mattie's wheelchair skidded to a stop in the doorway. Woken out of a post-therapy nap, she was clearly alarmed.

"What the fu.."

"Mattie!" Harm and Mac warned her in unison.

Mattie continued on, dutifully modifying her language. "What the heck happened? Are you guys ok? Do I need to call 911?"

Mac didn't think they needed an ambulance. Trying to stifle her laughter, she turned to Harm for confirmation.

He burst out laughing. "No, Mattie, we don’t need 911, the only real casualty is the swing."

Mattie snorted and turned her wheelchair. "Get a room," she grumped as left.

Laughing even harder, bordering on hysteria, Mac extended her hand and helped Harm to his feet. "OK?" she asked between giggles and gasps for breath.

"Yeah," he answered. "I guess we're going to have to buy a new swing ASAP."

"A bigger one that can take the punishment."

"Maybe one of those gliders. They're big enough to sleep on."

Mac glared at the hole in the porch ceiling where the metal hooks had ripped out of the wood. "And they don't have to be attached to the ceiling."

Harm laughed. "What do you say we go upstairs and continue where we left off."

Maybe the night would not be a total loss. "I could give you a back rub," Mac answered suggestively.

"And I could put some ice on that shiner for you," Harm chuckled.

Mac fingered the bruise that was slowly shutting her eye. She groaned and swatted his arm. "How am I going to explain this?"

Harm drew her into his arms and kissed her. He pulled back and gazed into her eyes. Her knees weakened. She was not at all sure she would be able to walk up the stairs.

But, hand in hand, they did.

Chapter 11

As Mac stepped onto the porch she was surprised to see Harm sitting on the swing, sipping a beer, still in his work clothes. After years trapped in uniforms, his least favorite part of being in the Navy, Harm's first order of business when he got home from work was usually to change out of the shirt and tie he wore to the office.

Harm answered her unspoken question with a bemused shrug. "I was told, in no uncertain terms, to stay out here."

"What's up?"

"I have no idea. Mattie just said she was cooking and it was a surprise."

Mac turned her attention to the sounds and aromas emanating from the kitchen. "Yeah, that's the same message I got. Sure smells good."

She tiptoed toward the door and jumped sky high when Jen Coates popped into her path, blocking her from getting a look at whatever was going on in her kitchen. "Sorry, Ma'am, I can't let you in here. Mattie's orders."

"Well, Petty Officer, I think I outrank Ms. Grace, particularly in this house," Mac answered, chuckling.

Coates licked her lips nervously. "Sorry, Colonel, I promised I wouldn't let you or the Captain in here. So just make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink? Dinner will be ready soon." She disappeared back into the kitchen before Mac had a chance to request a glass of cranberry juice.

Sighing theatrically, she plopped onto the swing next to Harm, and planted a kiss on his cheek. He put his beer on the floor next to his feet and put his arm around her. She smiled and gave him another peck on the cheek, snuggling in his arms.

"You have no idea what this is about?"

"None. This is more clandestine than my weekends at the Pentagon."

"Hmmm. So how was work?"

"Not great. I can't seem to get a handle on this case."

"Same one?"

"Yup. Hard to be a child advocate when the child won't let you advocate on her behalf."

Mac sighed. She wished she could give Harm the magic piece of insight he needed to reach his client, but even though she understood the anger of a neglected 12 year old girl, she knew anything she might suggest could backfire. She patted Harm on the thigh in a gesture she hoped he would take as sympathy. "I wish I could tell you how to reach her, Harm."

"So do I. So, how was your day?"

Mac managed to stifle a chuckle at his none-too-subtle change of subject. "My day was… Let's call it interesting."

"That doesn't sound good."

"Well, I had a surprise visitor today."

"Um, this story doesn't involve Bud does it?"

She elbowed him gently. "No, no space aliens are involved. This one is a TAD courtesy of General Creswell."

"A TAD? Who…Oh no, not Vic?" He sounded amused and seemed to be biting his lip to stifle laughter.

Mac glared at him. She was not amused. This turn of events was so not funny. "It's not funny, Harm. He's, he's so, so…" She stopped in midstream, unable to find the right word, and gaped at Harm who appeared to be having some kind of conniption. His body shook, his mouth twitched, and his eyes danced. He looked like the cat who had swallowed the canary but who was trying to look sympathetic at the loss of the beloved bird. As she stared, he lost control completely and actually snorted, dissolving into helpless laughter. Unable to help herself, she joined him, laughing until tears poured down her face.

"Oh God, Harm, I needed that," she gasped, still trying to control her laughter. "The look on your face."

"I'm sorry, Mac. I was trying to be sympathetic. Really I was. I just was picturing that little twit trying to butter you up, thinking he could get away with stuff here that he did at HQ."

"Oohh," she groaned. "He's already started. All he did was report and he managed to annoy me."

"Why's he here?"

"We're awash in cases, and I have two attorneys in the field, so I made a request for another attorney TAD. Cresswell sent Vukovic."

"My sympathies," he said, sounding hardly sympathetic at all.

Before Mac could reply appropriately, Coates appeared in the doorway. She set the small table on the other end of the porch and invited Harm and Mac to sit. As they sat, Jen went back to the kitchen, returning several times with steaming dishes: salmon, sautéed veggies and rice pilaf. On her last trip she brought a carafe of what looked like sparkling cider and put it in the middle of the table.

She turned to the stunned couple and smiled. "Goodnight, Sir, Ma'am. Have a nice evening. I'll see you tomorrow, Ma'am." She opened the screen door and disappeared into the growing darkness.

Mac exchanged a shocked look with Harm. What the heck was going on? Mattie had really outdone herself. Dinner looked amazing. She searched Harm's face for some clue to what he was thinking and concluded that he was as confused as she was, but before she could commiserate, Mattie stepped out onto the porch.

Stepped?! OMIGOD! Mac jumped from her chair as she realized the significance of that one little word. Mattie was standing in the doorway, balanced a bit precariously on steel crutches. Standing. Standing. Mattie was standing. More or less under her own power.

Beside her Mac heard sniffling. She turned to Harm not really surprised to see tears running down his face. She had seen him cry before, not many times, but always at times of deep emotion. This was definitely one of those times. She put a hand to her own face and wiped away the wetness she found there.

Mattie giggled nervously. "Hey guys. This is supposed to be a celebration."

Harm walked toward Mattie, enveloping her in a bear hug. "Oh, Mattie, I'm so proud of you. I knew you could do it. I knew you could."

Mac hung back, giving them some time together. When Harm released Mattie, Mac stepped up and gently grabbed Mattie's shoulders. "Congratulations, Mattie. I'm so happy for you."

Mattie sniffed, apparently trying to hide her own tears. "Food's getting cold."

They ate, and talked, and laughed, especially when Mattie admitted that all the noise in the kitchen had been a ruse. Jen had purchased the food from a gourmet takeout place. They lingered over dinner, coffee and desert and then sat on the porch just enjoying each other's company. Later, Mac was cleaning up a few stray dishes and listening to Harm and Mattie chatting on the porch. She realized that somehow, almost miraculously, the three of them had become the family she had always wanted.

Just one more miracle would make it perfect.