This story is a look a Harm and Mac's life together. It begins sadly, but will, in the end, be a basically happy story. There is some angst and sadness, like there is in everybody's life, but if you stick with me through the sadness, I hope you will find the joy.

Warning: there is a character death at the beginning, but that's not really what the story is about.

Thanks to Pixie, for beta reading. No matter how many times I read through the story, there is always stuff to fix. Pixie found them. A few parts were never beta'd. Those mistakes are mine, too.

Hats off to Holly, who explored the same metaphor that I did. I guess great minds really do think alike.

This story takes place in both real time and flash back. I have put dates at the beginning of the first few sections to make it obvious, but I think it is pretty clear after that.

The Porch Swing, Prologue

By LobsterDoc (ktleepitt@aol.com)

August 2025

3 pm PDT

Mac looked out the car window at the charming beach cottage. The building that had been her home and haven for years suddenly seemed isolated and empty. She swallowed hard, pushing down the tears that threatened. She couldn't fall apart; not here, not now. A gentle hand on her arm caused her to turn her head toward the concerned eyes of her stepdaughter.

"Are you sure about this, Mac?"

"I'm sure. I have to do this."

"It's only been a week. You know you're welcome to stay with Rick and me for as long as you want. Jimmy would be beside himself."

Mac smiled and nodded. "I love to see my grandson, Mattie, but I can't stay with you forever. You have your own lives. And so do I." She paused and looked out the window at the house, once so welcoming. "This is what he would want."

"What do you want?"

Mac didn't really know how to answer. What did she want? She had no idea. So much had happened in the last few days. Staying with Mattie and Rick had been wonderful, but now she needed some space. She was drowning and this time there was no lifeline waiting. She had to learn to swim on her own.

"I need to do this. I have to. I don't have any other choice."

"Mac…"

Mac turned back toward Mattie.

"I'll be fine, Mattie. I just need some time."

"If you're sure?"

"I am."

"Okay then. Do you need any help getting your stuff into the house?"

"No, I can get it," Mac answered as she opened the door and stepped out of the car. She grabbed her bags from the back seat and started toward the house.

"Mac?" Mattie called trough the open window.

Mac turned toward her.

"If you need anything…"

"I know where to find you." Mac walked around the car to the driver's side. She gently placed her hand on Mattie's shoulder. "It's okay, Mattie. I'll be fine."

Mattie reached up and touched Mac's hand. "You call if you need anything. Any day, any time."

"I will."

Mac stepped away and walked around the back of the car and up the walk. As she got to the steps, she turned and waved to Mattie. As the car drove away, Mac walked up the porch steps, fished the key out of her purse, and squaring her shoulders, pushed open the door.

She stood in the doorway for a few minutes, preparing herself; for what, she wasn't sure. This was her home, a place where she had been happy and comfortable for much of her adult life, but now she wasn't sure how she fit here. She had never been good at being alone and was unprepared now. She shut the door, put down her suitcase, and moved to drop her keys on the entry table, an action she had performed thousands of times. But she stopped mid motion when she saw another set of keys there, where he always dropped them, as if he had just come in the door. She placed her keys on the table and gently touched his, almost caressing them, as her vision blurred. She blinked rapidly, determined not to be undone by something as mundane as a set of keys. She shook herself, and moved down the hallway, heading toward the living room.

As she walked through the house she was assailed by reminders of him: his shoes on the mat by the door, his USS Seahawk baseball cap hanging on a hook in the hall, the newspaper where he had left it scattered on the coffee table a week ago. She stopped and took a deep breath. She had to get used to this if she was going to stay here. This was her home, their home. She could do this. She had to.

Determined not to let fate take her home from her as it had taken her husband, Mac began to stroll around the house, letting the memories roll over her as each item triggered them: the trophy awarded to her staff after they won the base softball championship; Jimmy's baby picture; the tassel from Mattie's cap and gown; Mac's favorite picture of Harm, in his flight jacket, leaning against "Sarah," the wind blowing his hair, his smile radiant. Tears threatened again as she picked up the picture and rubbed her fingers over the glass, as if she could connect with him. She sniffed and put the picture back on the mantle. She moved on to the picture of five year old Harm and his father on the Hornet and the one of her and her Uncle Matt at Red Rock Mesa, right after he had been released from Leavenworth.

"Take care of him, guys," she whispered.

As she wandered into the kitchen, her mind drifted to the events of the last week. The service had been lovely. Though Harm had retired years ago, several pilots had volunteered to fly in formation over the graveside ceremony. She had chosen a spot, not at Arlington but in a local cemetery, next to his mother and Frank. Afterwards everybody had gone to the base O Club. So many people from their lives were there, all with stories to tell.

Over and over again, conversation centered on how appropriate it was that his last act was cockpit heroics. She had grown tired of hearing the story but was helpless to stop the tape running through her brain. It had been a typical tourist flight for some colleagues at the law firm where he had worked for several years. The flight had been routine until mid-flight when something collided with the plane. Harm had managed somehow to coax the plane into staying in the air long enough to limp back to the airfield. He had landed her, none too gently, but intact, and climbed out of the aircraft. Surrounded by rescue workers, his passengers and other pilots and assorted airport personnel, amidst backslaps and kudos, he had collapsed to the tarmac.

Emergency workers transported him immediately, but by the time they got to the hospital, Harm was beyond help, the victim of a ruptured aortic aneurysm. Whether the accident had played a part - the jolt of the collision, the rise in blood pressure from the adrenaline surging through his body, the abrupt pressure changes as he fought with the damaged aircraft - no one would ever know. All anyone could tell her was that he had saved several lives that day and that they were very sorry for her loss.

A colorful envelope on the kitchen table caught her eye: the tickets. Oh God, she'd have to cancel them. They had been so looking forward to this year's trip, a tour of the Costa Rican national parks. Every year since she had retired, they had planned a trip, usually somewhere exotic and with a touch of adventure. They had scuba dived the Galapagos, hiked the Irish countryside, and safaried in Kenya. Costa Rica was set for next month. She picked up the tickets, hugging them to her chest. There was no way she could take the trip now. It just wasn't fair. Why him? Why now? The grief began to overwhelm her.

She threw the tickets back on the table and fled. She fled his overwhelming presence in the house. She fled the waves of sadness threatening to drown her. She fled the loneliness that surrounded her. Blinded by tears, nearly overwrought, for the first time in the seven days since Harm's death, she could not contain her grief.

So she ran.

She ran out onto the back porch, into the yard and toward the ocean, finally veering away from the edge of the cliff, narrowly averting disaster. She reversed direction, running back toward the house, through the garden she had painstakingly tended year after year. She circled the house, running into the front yard. Part way down the driveway she turned back toward the house, some rational part of her mind exerting control.

Somehow, she would never remember how, she found herself on the back porch, standing in front of the swing; the swing that had played such an important part in their lives. She had fallen in love with the porch with its wooden swing and incredible view when she first moved into the cottage, and for the next twenty-something years, the swing, and its replacements, had been the site of all of the important moments of their life together. Triumph and failure, excitement and disappointment, fear and happiness, the entirety of their married life had been experienced on that swing. It was no coincidence that she had ended up here. Totally spent, she sank gratefully onto the cushions and curled into the fetal position. She clutched the blanket from the arm of the glider and hugged it to herself. It smelled of him and she drank in the scent, desperate to have him with her. The realization that memory was all she had left of him assailed her again and again as she broke down sobbing uncontrollably. After several minutes of crying, she was physically and emotionally exhausted. For the first time in days she did what she feared she might never do again.

She slept.

The Porch Swing, Chapter 1

May 2005

Mac sat on the wooden swing on her new back porch, gazing across the lawn. Two hundred yards beyond the screens the lawn disappeared and the ocean took its place. The panoramic view of the Pacific, framed now by the setting sun, took her breath away. She knew she had made the right decision to stay here. When her future in-laws had met her at the airport and insisted that she use their beach house instead of staying on base, Mac had resisted. She had perfectly good quarters waiting for her at the BOQ. Then when Harm extricated himself from his London command and joined her in San Diego, they could look for suitable quarters, together. But Trish and Frank had insisted she see the "cottage" outside of San Diego that they had purchased as an investment. They needed somebody to stay in it and it would buy some time after Harm arrived.

Mac sighed remembering the discussion, which had bordered on heated at times. Having fallen in love with the charming white bungalow with the screen porch and the fabulous view, Mac expected to pay rent. Trish and Frank seemed insulted and wouldn't hear of taking money from her. She could put the rent money away, they reasoned, saving it for a down payment on a home after she and Harm got married. Mac argued, successfully, that she would be receiving a housing allowance. She couldn't just pocket the money. Finally they reached a compromise. Mac would pay rent with her housing allowance, still paying well below market rate for a property like this.

Life with Harm's parents was certainly going to a challenge.

Checking her internal clock, she walked back into the house. The kitchen was devoid of furniture, but the cupboards and refrigerator had been well stocked with many of her favorite foods. Mac smelled a rat. Harm had obviously been in collusion with his parents to get her here. In the larger of the two bedrooms were an air mattress, a light, and a small dresser with a clock radio. There was a comfortable chair and a television complete with a dish hookup and a dvd player in the living room. There were towels and linens and toiletries in the bathroom closet. She smiled as she fished her phone out of the bags she had left carelessly in the front hall.

Switching on her phone, she grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and went back out on the porch. She sat on the swing, already her favorite part of the house, watching the sun disappear below the horizon. She sat eating her yogurt in the gathering darkness, simply enjoying the silence. Just as she finished her dinner, her cell phone rang.

"Hey, Harm."

"Hey, Mac. How do you like the house?"

"I ought to draw and quarter you. I almost had my first fight with your mother and we're not even married yet."

Harm laughed, "You love it, right?

"I love it," she sighed. "But then, you knew I would. Why didn't you just tell me?"

"I don't know. I guess I wanted to surprise you. You don't like surprises?"

Mac giggled. "I really should be mad at you, you know. Stop being so charming."

Harm's warm laughter reached across thousands of miles and enveloped her in a comforting caress. She was more content than she could ever remember being.

"I miss you already," she whispered.

"I miss you too. But it won't be too long."

"I know."

"I love you, Mac."

She smiled into the darkness, her heart swelling. "I love you, too."

They let the comfortable silence linger for several minutes.

A yawn in her ear broke the spell for Mac. "Am I keeping you up, Harm?"

"Hey, it's o'dark thirty here and I do have a jet lag issue."

"Then we better let you get your beauty sleep, old man."

"Smart aleck."

"It's one of the things you love about me."

"One of many," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

Mac took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Harm had an effect on her unlike any other man. It was wonderful, frightening and humbling all at the same time. She couldn't wait for him to get to California so they could start their life together.

"Goodnight, Harm. Get some sleep. I love you."

"Love you. Good luck tomorrow. I want a full email report. Tell Jen 'Hi' for me."

"G'night."

"'Night."

Mac shut off her phone and gazed out across the lawn. Her heart was filled with the possibilities stretching out in front of her. She and Harm had finally figured it out, she was looking forward to her first command; she even had a new pair of shoes. Mattie would be joining them after a few months of inpatient rehab.

What more could she want?

Porch Swing chapter 2

Mac dragged herself out onto the porch, toed off her not-so-comfy shoes, and sank exhausted onto the swing. She was so tired. Two weeks at her new command and she was toast. She had been putting in fourteen hour days, just trying to stay ahead of her staff and familiarize herself with the new cases that seemed to be multiplying when she was away from the office. If that wasn't enough, she was having trouble with her new XO. Well, not trouble exactly, but there seemed to be some tension. She couldn't put her finger on exactly what was the matter, but something was not right at the office. Oh, things were running like clockwork, but there was definitely something missing. She just couldn't figure it out.

She sighed as she opened the bag from a local burger joint. She was getting sick of fast food, but she couldn't seem to find any time to cook. She hadn't been running in several days and the stress was taking a physical toll. She was so lonely. She had talked to Harm several times in the last couple of weeks but that wasn't even close to having him with her physically. She was beginning to wonder if she was even cut out for command. The topper was that she was supposed to see Harm this weekend. He had some meeting at the Pentagon that had been scheduled at the last minute and she had hoped to fly out to see him. Unfortunately there were no flights that were even close to affordable. Coates hadn't even been able to get a military flight on such short notice. What a waste. So close, yet so far.

She put the bag down. She was too tired and grumpy to eat much. Well, she didn't really need another burger anyway. The one bright spot in this otherwise crappy day, was that Harm was supposed to call tonight.

As if on cue, her cell phone rang.

"Hi, Harm."

"Hey, Mac. Are you okay? You sound really tired."

Well, hello to you, too," she snapped.

"You don't have to bite my head off."

Mac sighed, fighting tears. "Sorry. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

"It's alright. Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yeah, just feeling tired and bored and lonely and sorry for myself." She chuckled ruefully. "Not my favorite mood."

"I wish I could help."

"I know. I guess I was looking forward a bit too much to this weekend. It would have been great to see you."

"Well maybe we can fix that."

"What? You know I tried everything to find a flight."

"I know. But maybe you just didn't look in the right direction."

Mac was starting to get angry. "The right direction? Where should I have looked?"

"How about out the window?"

"Huh?"

"Look out the window, Mac."

As he spoke, the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Suddenly she was sure she was not alone. She got up from the swing and looked out into the yard. With a cry of delight she ran out the screen door and threw herself into his waiting arms.

He caught her and twirled her around. They kissed, a deep heart touching union of their souls. Her pulse raced, her stomach flip flopped, every nerve ending in her body hummed with anticipation. God, how she loved this man. How had she gone so long without admitting it? Why? She had no answers as their kiss deepened, and her mind shut down.

"Was that a squeal I just heard?" He asked, laughing, as they came up for air. He set her down on her feet.

"Of course not!" Mac answered, pretending to be insulted. "Marines do not squeal. No matter how delighted they are."

Harm smiled and Mac felt a goofy grin take over her face. She felt like a schoolgirl with her first crush. She couldn't control her excitement at having him actually in her presence. And, not for the first time in her life, she was enjoying the rush. But this time, there was the promise of so much more.

"God! I missed you."

"I missed you, too."

Mac reached for his hand and led him into the house. "You must be exhausted. When do you have to leave?"

"My meeting got changed to Monday, so I can stay until tomorrow night. We have the whole weekend," he explained suggestively.

His meaning was not lost on Mac. Her breath caught in her throat. "Um, maybe we should get some dinner first. Did you eat yet?" she asked as they sat next to each other on the swing.

"No, but I see you did," he answered, picking up the fast food bag.

"Actually, I never got to it. I could call for pizza," she answered, dropping his hand, and walking toward the kitchen.

"Pizza's fine. You already have the delivery guy on speed dial, I assume."

"Hmph. Just for that, I'm getting the dead cow special."

"Ugh, not that. Please."

Mac called in the order and came back out on the porch. She sat next to Harm and leaned into his body, the two of them melding together as if they had been sculpted to fit that way. He placed a delicate kiss on the back of her neck and then leaned his chin on the top of her head, his breath ruffling her hair. The simple gesture was unexpectedly intimate, an acknowledgement of their physical attraction, and subtly erotic. He put one arm around her and sighed, clearly content. The effect was to make Mac feel loved and cherished without the desperation she had experienced in past relationships, just the promise of physical passion.

If only she could have him here all the time. "Harm?"

"Yeah."

"How much longer do you think?" She didn't elaborate, he would know what she meant.

"Maybe another month. Shouldn't be any longer than that."

"That long?"

"It's only thirty days, Marine," he whispered, "What's thirty days when we have thirty years ahead of us?"

He was right. They had a whole life ahead of them. She needed to quit whining about not having him here, now. She could wait another month.

"I look forward to it."

"Me, too."

Mac snuggled closer to him, content to enjoy him while she had the opportunity. She could hold out for another thirty days. It was a small price to pay for the possibility of a lifetime of happiness. She felt Harm's body relax and his breathing deepen and within few seconds, she joined him in slumber.