The Porch Swing chapter 3

August 2025

Mac awoke with a start, the feel of a blanket instead of his shirt under her face adding to her disorientation. There was a dog barking somewhere. That must have been what woke her up. But where was Harm?

"Harm?" She called his name into the darkness.

Receiving no answer, she sat up slowly, her confusion changing quickly to disappointment and sorrow as the events of the past week came rushing back. Harm wasn't here, it had been a dream. How cruel. It wasn't bad enough that her home taunted her with memories, now her mind was going to get in on the action. Maybe coming home hadn't been such a great idea.

She extricated herself from the blanket and stood laboriously, her legs and feet protesting her impromptu sprint around the property. She and Harm still jogged most mornings, but she hadn't run full tilt like that since her last PFT six years ago. As she gained her balance, her stomach growled, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything for hours, and even then she had only eaten enough to keep Mattie and Rick off her back. She knew she should have something, but she didn't care one way or the other. She really didn't care much about anything.

She went to the refrigerator, studiously avoiding objects that might trigger another crying jag, and grabbed a yogurt. She sighed ruefully as the memory of her first night in this house, more than twenty years ago, came flooding back. She put the yogurt back on the shelf and opted for an apple. At least she could put something in her stomach so it would leave her in peace.

Apple in hand, she limped to the front hall where she had dumped her bags. She knew she should put them away, but she wasn't ready to greet the memories that were surely lurking in their bedroom. Anger welled up from nowhere. This is what she had signed up for, right? This is what Harm would have wanted, right? Goddammit she was a Marine! She could do this. Memories be damned! This was her home, not the domain of some ghost. She grabbed the suitcases and dragged them upstairs to the bedroom. She would put them away if it killed her.

She got to the top of the stairs, her breathing labored, though whether from exertion or anger she wasn't sure; pushed the door to the bedroom open with her foot and strode inside, heading straight for the dresser. She put her suitcase on the bench at the foot of the bed, unzipped it jerkily, snatching clothes out of it, and turned toward the dresser wrenching the drawer open, stuffing clothes inside, heedless of their condition or placement. She turned for another load, stuffing more clothes into the drawer until it was full. She tried to shove it closed, her anger building as it jammed. Again, she pushed ineffectually at the offending piece of furniture her anger white hot and irrational. Damn him! How could he do this? How could he leave me like this? How dare he abandon me just like everybody else? He was supposed to be different! She pulled on the drawer and yanked out some clothing, shoved the drawer closed and clumsily opened a second one. She stuffed clothes in. As she turned to grab another handful, the picture caught her eye.

She dropped the clothes, drawn irresistibly to the photograph, her favorite of the two of them, taken at Disney Land when Bud and Harriet had brought the family for a visit. Mickey Mouse had approached them and Bud had snapped a picture of her and Harm mugging with the giant rodent. That was the side of Harm she loved the most, the unexpected goofiness that would sneak out from under his squared away façade. She had seen hints of it before they were married: his relationship with little AJ, his amusement at Bud's missteps, his clowning with Chloe; but after he had gone into the reserves his inner child had a field day, creating some of her best memories. She walked around the bed and picked up the frame, caressing it as she had the pictures in the living room. She sank slowly onto the bed, tears spilling down her cheeks and dripping onto the frame. With each tear that fell, her anger dissipated. She lifted her head and looked around the room as if seeing it through new eyes. Perhaps she was.

They had argued for weeks over how to decorate the bedroom. Harm seemed to want a room that was just functional – a bed, dressers, nightstand, maybe a bench – that was all he needed. Mac had other ideas. She wanted the room to take advantage of the gorgeous view of the sea, wanted it to feel like it belonged to the house. She wanted a reading nook, maybe a table for breakfast in front of the window. She thought of the bedroom as a retreat. Harm thought of it as a place to sleep, among other things.

Mac smiled involuntarily as she remembered their compromise. The bedroom was decorated to Harm's specifications, though she had drawn the line when he had suggested they paint it carrier gray, suspecting the design idea was only half in jest. Ultimately they had used his furniture, painted the walls a warm beige, and covered them with photographs depicting their careers and their life together. Mac got her retreat, too, when Harm had surprised her by enlarging the porch so there was room for a breakfast nook. It had been his wedding present to her. The bedroom wall color had changed several times and they had bought new furniture a few years ago, but the room was virtually the same as when they had first lain there together.

Sighing, she stood and put the picture back on the night stand. She walked back to the dresser and rearranged the clothes into neat piles in their appropriate locations. After all, the clothes were not her enemy.

"You need to get a grip, MacKenzie," she muttered to herself. "Oh fabulous. Now I'm talking to myself. Out loud."

She turned back to the suitcase and stopped, reaching slowly for the next item in the pile, a neatly folded American Flag.

"Oh…" She reached out and stroked the flag, but she didn't take it out of the suitcase. Maybe she wasn't ready for this yet. She turned and left the room.

Through a haze of tears she found herself back on the porch. She sank onto the swing and gave in to her grief for the third time in one day. Wasn't she ever going to stop crying? Was his memory ever going to leave her alone? No, that wasn't really what she wanted was it? To be left alone, without memories? No. She had to figure out a way to deal with his presence here. Again, exhaustion overtook her and she drifted to sleep.

Part 4

June 2005

They were sitting on the swing, enjoying the breeze off the water. Harm had been a reservist for exactly one week. He had passed on his command and had managed to reserve his commission to an IMA slot at the Pentagon that would require sporadic trips to the east coast for meetings. It was all very clandestine, or so it seemed to Mac. Harm could tell her only that it had something to do with Homeland Security. He was clearly excited by the chance to stay in the Navy, and that was all she needed to know. It was one of her worst fears, hiding in the recesses of her heart, that one day Harm would regret giving up his career for her, especially if she couldn't provide him with a child. She shook herself, literally and figuratively, banishing the dark thoughts that threatened to ruin an otherwise perfect evening.

"You cold?"

"Huh? Ah, no, I guess somebody walked across my grave," Mac answered dismissively.

"Nice imagery. Where the heck did you get that?"

"Sorry. Something my mother used to say whenever I shivered. So how did it go today?"

"I got some promising leads."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. There's a couple of small firms in town that seem right up my alley. One specializes in family law and the other has mostly aviation clients. I got them off the board at the base Legal Services Office. I even thought about asking if LSO had any potential openings for a civilian attorney, but it just felt weird. I don't know, kind of…"

Mac bit her lip to keep from laughing out loud. "Incestuous?" she suggested innocently.

"Well, not exactly, but yeah, you are in charge. It just didn't feel right."

Mac patted his hand and then leaned in to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "You're right, Harm, it probably would have been awkward to have you under me."

"Ho, ho, Marine. Very funny." Harm slapped her arm.

Mac retaliated in kind and then tried to get off the swing to get out of his way, but Harm was too quick. He grabbed her around the waist and dragged her back onto his lap, tickling her and planting kisses wherever he could get his lips on her bare skin. She shrieked and made a half-hearted attempt to get away from him. They wrestled for several minutes until they were both gasping for breath. Mac collapsed against Harm laughing. She'd had no idea she could ever love this much.

"So when are we going to get married?" Mac asked tentatively.

"I don't know," he answered, his tone nonchalant. "We need to wait until Mattie can be here."

"She'll be here in a couple of weeks. Why not make plans?"

"My mother would have a fit."

"Oh Harm, please tell me she doesn't have her heart set on a country club wedding. I don't think I could go through that again."

Harm chuckled. "Well I don’t think she'll be satisfied with a hillside and some goats."

"Harm…" She couldn't keep the annoyance or the hint of desperation out of her voice.

Harm sat up straighter and repositioned Mac so he could look into her face. "What's going on, Mac? Are you okay?"

Mac sighed. She hadn't really planned on bringing up her silly doubts. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm just feeling a little insecure."

A hurt look flashed in Harm's eyes. "Insecure? About me? About us?"

Mac tried to turn her face away. She couldn't bear to look into his eyes. "No, not really. I just… I guess I won't feel really sure that this isn't all going to disappear until I have a ring on my finger. I know it's immature and unfair to you. I don't think you're going to abandon me. I just… I'm sorry I brought it up. I'll be fine." She tried to extricate herself from his embrace, but he refused to let her go.

"No. We promised each other we wouldn't let stuff fester; that we would be honest about our feelings, even the negative ones. Talk to me."

She settled back against him, pausing to collect her thoughts. She wasn't really sure what had triggered her mini crisis of confidence, and she wasn't sure she could explain it to him without hurting his feelings, but she had promised not to hide or run, and she would keep her promise.

Harm stroked her arm slowly, an amazingly comforting gesture. She clasped his hand, squeezing it, hoping to reassure him.

"I've never been very secure, Harm, about myself or my relationships. You've known me long enough that I'm probably not telling you anything new. I've spent so long waiting for a relationship like this, that I guess I'm having some trouble trusting it." Harm made a small sound of protest and Mac continued quickly, "Not you, Harm. I trust you with my life, my heart, my soul. This isn't about you. It's somehow about me. I don't feel… I… Damn, I don't even know how to explain this to myself. How can I explain it to you?"

She stood and tried to walk away, but Harm refused to release her hand.

"Please don't run. Please." He sounded vaguely frightened to Mac's ears, almost desperate. "Let me help you figure it out."

Mac walked slowly back to the swing and sat next to him, leaving some space between them but still holding his hand, needing at least that connection.

Harm spoke quietly as if afraid to push too hard, "What are you afraid of, Mac? What do you think is going to happen to us?"

"I don't know."

Harm tugged at her hand. "C'mon, sweetheart. Let me help."

Knowing she couldn't get away without talking to him, Mac straightened her back against the flood of emotion she knew would accompany her confession. He would be so disappointed in her. "I'm afraid, Harm."

"Of what?"

"Of disappointing you."

"What?" he protested, clearly shocked by her admission. "How would you disappoint me?"

She took a deep breath and blew it out between her pursed lips. "What if I can't have a baby?" she blurted.

"Then we try other ways," he countered impatiently.

"What if they don't work or we can't adopt? What if we never raise a child together?" She could hear her voice rising in desperation. She took several deep breaths, trying to hold herself together.

Harm seemed to be choosing his words. Finally he spoke, softly, kindly, "Then we don't raise a child. Millions of couples are childless and still manage to be happy, Mac. Of course I'll be disappointed, but I won't love you any less."

"But your career…"

Harm drew her into a hug. "Aw, Mac, I didn't give up my career so I could have a baby. I gave up my career so we could be together, just like you would have given up yours if the toss had gone the other way."

"I love you, too, Harm," she answered quietly, trying to take his words to heart.

"I know your history tells you otherwise, Mac, but everybody doesn't run the moment the going gets tough. I love you. You, Sarah MacKenzie, with all your flaws and insecurities. Yes, I would love to have a baby, or several babies with you, but I'm marrying you, not some abstract, hypothetical child we might someday conceive."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Mac was nearly speechless. Her doubts seemed so silly when held up to the light of their love. He was right. They were in love. A baby would be icing on the cake, but it didn't have to be the focus of their relationship. She moved out of his arms and looked into his eyes straight to his soul. Instead of the hurt she expected, she saw kindness, understanding and love; the same love she was sure shone brightly from her own soul.

"I love you."

"I love you, too."

Harm turned away and fumbled his hand into his pocket, his demeanor suddenly unsure. He turned back to her and placed a small box in her hand.

"I've been trying for a week to find the perfect time to give this to you. I think this is as good a time as any." He smiled uncertainly.

Mac was heartsick. "Oh Harm, I didn't tell you all this so you would give me a ring."

Harm closed his hand around her hand holding the ring box. "I know that, but maybe this will put some of those fears of yours to rest."

Mac opened the box. The ring was absolutely beautiful, a band made of delicate strands of braided gold joining together to form a small platform in the shape of a delicate leaf. Embedded in the leaf were three stones, one purple, one deep burgundy, and one piercing blue.

"The stones are mine, yours and Mattie's birth stones. There's room for a couple more if we get lucky." He took the ring and slipped it gently on her finger.

"It's beautiful, Harm. I, I don't know what to say."

Harm rested his forehead on hers. "You don't need to say anything, Mac. I think I know exactly how you feel."

The Porch Swing Part 5

June 2005

When Mac stepped onto the porch, she was shocked to see Harm slumped on the swing, staring into space, a half empty bottle of beer dangling between his fingers. He was the picture of abject despair. The only thing missing was a cigar.

"Harm?"

"Hey," he answered quietly without looking at her.

She sat next to him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Tough day?"

"Yeah."

"Interview didn't go well?"

"That's an understatement."

"Talk to me, Harm."

He turned toward her, a half smile on his face. "That's my line, Mac."

She smiled back and nodded encouragement.

"It was awful, Mac. I mean, c'mon, a firm that specializes in aviation law. I figured it would be a perfect fit."

"But it wasn't?"

He stood and walked toward the screens and looked out at the moon shining on the surf. "Not hardly. It started as soon as I sat down. They asked me over and over again how I would feel about suing the military; if I could be objective about litigation against no-fly restrictions; if I thought that military pilots were always right in their confrontations with civilian aircraft; what I thought about the Iraq war. I didn't know what to say. They just kept at me and at me." He turned back toward her, running his hand through his hair. "It was pretty clear they had already made up their minds."

Mac stood and closed the gap between them. She grabbed Harm's hands, stretched up, kissed him and then released his hands to draw him into a comforting hug. "I'm sorry, Harm," she whispered into his ear. "What can I do?"

"This is good for me right now," he chuckled.

"Me, too."

They held each other for several minutes before Mac's back began to protest. She released Harm and moved carefully back to the swing.

He joined her and clasped her hand in his.

"You have another interview tomorrow, right?" Mac asked lightly. She had never heard him sound so down.

"Oh yeah, that ought to be good. I'm sure a firm that specializes in children's advocacy is going to fall all over themselves now that they've seen my resume. They'll hate me for sure. I'll probably scare the clients."

"Hey," Mac reproached him, playing with his hand. "It's not like you to give up this easily."

"I know," he sighed. "It's just that I really thought today would be a walk in the park. I never thought family law would be a great fit. I have no experience and let's face it, a 6 foot 4 former aviator doesn't really conjure up images of warm and cuddly."

"Oh, I don't know. You're Little AJ's 'favoritist person in the whole wide world'," she joked, doing her best imitation of their godson.

Harm laughed. "I guess today just came so out of the blue, I didn't know how to handle it."

Mac put her arm around him. "That's what I'm here for, honey. You go in there tomorrow and show them who you are. Go in there as the man who nearly got himself killed rescuing Darlyn, who put his reputation and lifestyle on the line for Mattie, who searched for years to find out what happened to his father. You're great with kids and you’re an accomplished attorney. Sounds like a good fit to me."

"You're just saying that because you want me in a better mood," he pouted.

"You bet."

They sat together for a while, just enjoying each other's company, until Mac's stomach growled. Harm burst out laughing and Mac joined him.

"Hey, why don't you go get out of that uniform. I'll throw something together for dinner."

"Should I get into something more comfortable?" She waggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Depends on how soon you want to eat," his voice had the husky quality that never failed to arouse her.

Before she could answer, her stomach growled again.

"Better make that shorts and a T-shirt, or maybe a full sweat suit," Harm grumbled good naturedly as Mac went upstairs to change.