Part 4: Happy Campers


University Park Airport, Pennsylvania
FBO Terminal
1235 (local)

“Welcome to beautiful University Park Airport, ladies,” Keeter does his best maitre ‘d imitation as he taxis to our ‘parking spot’.

After he and Harm do the necessary power downs and checks, the propeller stops, Harm twists to his right and opens the hatch. He exits first, extends a hand to Heather and then to me. Keeter follows down the stairs, giving Harm a ‘low five’.

We all walk toward the General Aviation building.

Heather and I head toward the ladies’ restroom; Keeter and Harm head toward the men’s.

“I thought you took care of that up there,” Keeter says sotto voice.

“Gonna flush the evidence,” is Harm’s whispered reply.

Harm doesn’t realize how good my hearing is. Can’t wait to rib him about destroying evidence.

“You have to know he’s crazy about you.” Heather is apparently one of those women who think that the ladies’ rest room is also a confessional.

“You’d have to understand our situation a little better to understand how ‘crazy’ that is. Why don’t you ask Jack to explain?”

“He’s tried. I still don’t get it.”

Yet another person clueless about duty, responsibility and honor. Oh well, otherwise she seems OK.


University Park Airport
General Aviation Lounge
1245 (local)

Keeter and Harm join us in the lounge, a commodious area that encourages passengers and crews to relax, refresh, stretch out a bit and enjoy a stunning view of Mount Nittany. We picked the perfect weekend for colors and lucked out with Indian Summer weather. Sometimes the gods smile even on me.

On cue, my stomach growls.
Heather turns her head, looks at me, blanches and looks away. Harm puts his arm around me. Keeter puts his arm around Heather.

“You remember how I told you about how I first met Mac? I learned out there in the desert, she’s got a real appetite. As much as Harm can try, his appetite doesn’t always satisfy her. But I know how to.”

I stiffen as I feel Harm’s body turn into steel next to me.

Shit, where is Keeter taking this? Well, one place is across the lounge toward an impressive set of oak doors.

Keeter continues. “Harm’s a vegetarian, or almost one. He eats fish sometimes, I don’t know what the name is for that kind of diet. But Mac, now Mac eats like an American Marine. Red meat, lots of it. So, since we wouldn’t want to take time to rent a car or get a cab and go off ‘base’, I arranged for a fine lunch to come to us.”

The oak doors in front of us open up into a room that could be a conference room or a private dining room. Right now, it’s gonna be our lunch room.

What a lunch room. Gee, when was the last time I saw Vegetarian Sushi Rolls on equal billing with filet mignon?

I might not know much about vegetables, but I think portobello stuffed ravioli is pretty special and Harm’s kinda moaning over a platter of stuffed artichokes.

“Wow, Keeter. This is some spread!” Harm exclaims as he pops a sushi roll into his mouth.

“Yeah, well, I heard their new catering services here were real good, and I figured it’d be the easiest for us all.”

He tries to minimize it, but I can tell he’s very pleased he’s been able to pull this off.

I do my best not to gorge at lunch. Gotta remember that ‘no head’ thing about the plane.




University Park Airport
General Aviation Building
1400 (local)
Ladies’ Restroom

“Do you know where we’re going?”
I wonder if this is a inquiry based on our current geography or a more metaphysical question.

“I’m not sure.” Honest to both parts.

“I guess it’s gonna be a surprise.”

No doubt.

“Well, it looks like we’re getting ready to leave.”

Great. Do I have time to land a big one on the guy who told me not to have that second cup of coffee then managed to pee in the air? Damn. Freud wasn’t all wrong about penis envy, just mostly.


Airborne over north-central Pennsylvania
1540 (local)

Harm’s piloting as we enter Bradford Regional Airport airspace. Radioing in our location and getting approach conformation, he banks for the designated runway. Our touch down is a gentle tap and we taxi to the FBO hanger.

Climbing out of the plane, the ground crew ties it down under Harm and Keeter’s watchful eyes. Heather and I start to unload our gear from the rear of the plane as Keeter heads into the terminal for paperwork and Harm walks in the opposite direction.

He glances back at me and shouts “I’m getting the rental. I’ll drive it back here so we don’t have to move the stuff any further.”

Now that’s convenient. I watch him windmill his arms, shake his legs and rub his lower back a bit. Boy, I sure am glad he has that big body of his, but I’ll bet there are times (like maybe this one) he wishes he wasn’t quite so tall.

I resolve to give him an especially good back rub tonight. Tough duty, but that’s why I became a Marine.

In short order Keeter’s done with the paperwork, Harm’s back with a Jeep Commander (you can’t tell me Keeter didn’t choose that one on purpose!) and we’ve got all our stuff loaded up.

“Well folks, are you ready for the next phase of our colorful weekend?” Keeter’s glee is contagious.

Assents all ‘round as he pulls onto Highway 59 and heads west to Allegheny National Forest.

Harm’s studying a map Keeter’s given him. “Man, you really have handled all the details great so far, Keeter. Thanks. Where’s our campsite?”
“Well guys, there are so many great ones to choose from, but when I saw the one I picked I just knew we had to stay there.”

I’m getting a funny feeling about this. Keeter’s being a tad too cagey, but Harm hasn’t noticed yet.

“Yeah? Which one is it?” Harm asks as he tips a water bottle to his lips.

“Webb’s Ferry.”

Oh, I guess Harm decided the windshield needed washing. From the inside.

“Gotcha!” Keeter crows. Oh no, I know what this means. The rest of the weekend is going to be trading gotchas between those two. Well, I guess that’s why men go camping, right? So they can be boys again with fewer witnesses than if they revert at, say, the office.

Besides, Heather and I are here to keep them from letting it get too far out of hand. Yep, that’s why I became a Marine: protect and defend.

“No, seriously, Harm. I just got out of the Company. You think I’d want to ruin my weekend with Webb’s ghost hanging over it?” He chuckles. “We’re staying at a place they named after me.”

I watch Harm’s eyebrows climb.

“Handsome Lake.”

The windshield is spared further spewing, but Harm’s snort is eloquent in the extreme.

“OK, then branch off onto 321 in Marshburg and we’ll hone right in on it.”


Handsome Lake campsite
1700 (local)

Handsome is right. This is great! I wish I had more time to just stare but Harm’s delegated tasks to us all to get our camp set up before we lose the light.

I notice that Heather holds up her end pretty well, for a civilian. I was kinda worried about camping with someone who runs an art gallery in New York City. Much as I like Harm’s mom, I sure wouldn’t want to go camping with her. I can just imagine her whipping out her cell phone to order delivery for dinner.

Nevertheless, Heather’s done a credible job of sorting our gear then gathering firewood. Harm and Keeter are setting up the tents and I’m getting the fire ring cleaned out.
We’re all done just in time to walk down to the water’s edge to watch the sunset.

I lean back against Harm’s broad chest as he wraps his arms around my waist and rests his chin on the top of my head.

“Mmmmm.” He rumbles a sound of pure contentment. I rub his forearms and respond in kind. “Umhummm.” Hey, if I’m so at peace, why are tears coming to my eyes?

Harm leans down to my ear. “Mac, I love you more than life itself. My world is perfect because you’re in it.”

I hold my breath, both hoping and fearing that he’s gonna ask again about ‘going public’. But he doesn’t. He just gives me a little squeeze, a soft kiss on my neck and returns to resting on my head.

Our bodies fit together perfectly. Can we get our lives to do so as well? We’ve done great so far, but ‘going public’ will be a whole new challenge. But hey, facing challenges is what we military officers are trained to do. I think I’m talking myself into this.

With the fading light Keeter and I are on fire duty as Harm and Heather share chef chores.

Wow. How is it that food always tastes so much better outdoors? The forest sounds serenade us as we quietly eat our dinner sitting around the campfire.

“Hey, ya know, I’m kinda tired and it can’t even be 2000 hours yet,” Keeter announces as he leans back on his elbows.

“1949, Jack,” I inform. At Heather’s quizzical look Harm and Keeter say simultaneously, “don’t ask.”

“I’m with you, man,” Harm agrees, stretching out on the ground as well. “Mac, threw me in a freezing cold shower at 0500 this morning and we’ve been going nonstop since then.”

“It was 0515 and it was not freezing cold.”

“Well, Ham-bone,” Keeter drawls with a distinct overtone of lechery, “if you were in the shower at 0515, how come you were a half-hour late to the airport?”

“Mac’s slow to get started in the morning.”

He didn’t really say that, did he?

“I have to give her more time, you know, so she’s not cranky the rest of the day.”

Keeter’s snickering; Heather’s trying to pretend she’s not getting the overt double-entendre and I’m vacillating between finding it funny and embarrassing.

“Well, you must have started her up right this morning, ‘cause she’s been a joy all day. Ma’am,” he tips an imaginary hat to me.

“You know, Jack, at first I wasn’t sure if Harm was trainable. But after some seven years of diligent effort on my part, he’s finally getting to know the ropes.”

“Maaac,” he gives me his best growl. “I’m a Navy man, of course I know the ropes. Better yet, I know how to tie knots.”

He rolls over and wrestles me under him. “Just as soon as you’re ready,” he whispers as he kisses me quickly then releases me.

“Damn, Harm. You’re either the bravest squid I know or the most foolhardy. You do realize she can kill you with her bare hands, don’t’cha?” I can see Keeter’s astonished at Harm’s blatant display; this is not the way the Harmon Rabb Jr. that he’s used to acts with a woman.

“Sure I could, but Keeter, then we’d have this big, dead carcass and it’d probably attract bears. I figure it’s better to let him live another night or two. Besides, he’s good for sharing body heat, and it might get chilly tonight.”

“Speaking of which,” Harm says as he stands up and starts to gather our dinner things. “Let’s get this cleaned up and the food hung.” We police the area, lock all the foodstuffs away and hoist the locker 10 feet up into a tree, well downwind of our tents.

Keeter and Harm do a final sweep of our cooking area and nod with satisfaction to each other.

“OK, kids. I think Heather and I are retiring to our tent. See you in the morning. First one up starts the fire and the coffee.”

Crawling into our tent I’m reminded of the cave in Appalachia we slept in the night we were eluding the poachers. I think that’s the night I started falling in love with Harm. I watch him strip off his flannel shirt and t-shirt. No matter how many times I see that chest revealed it’s always gonna take my breath away. He’s reaching for a long sleeved knit top to sleep in.

“Wait a minute, Harm.” He looks at me. “How ‘bout I give you a back rub before we go to sleep? The Mooney’s cabin is spacious for a plane its size, but you’ve got to be a little cramped up after sitting in it all day.”

He simply smiles and rolls onto his stomach, pillowing his face with his arms. I sit astride his luscious six and methodically work from his shoulders down to his lower back then back up again. I wish I could use some oil, but this is bear country and we take the cautions about scented products as seriously as we do the ones about food cooking and storage.
He makes little noises. I make little noises. We communicate by touch and humm.

I roll off, lie next to him and pull our double sleeping bag up around us. He rolls over onto his side and we tangle ourselves together in our favorite sleeping position.

“Harm.”

“Yes, Mac.”

“I’m a very happy camper.”