Author: janlaw
Subject: Blue is the Color of ....(HBX January Challenge)

Blue is the Color of….Boas and M ‘n’ M’s

Disclaimer: All the usual legalese. Just borrowing …sigh.

Author’s note: Harm and Mac’s daughter, Mackenzie O’Hara Rabb ‘Mahara’ was born in May 2006 in London, as described in “Second Wind” by McRose, the writing team of Highplainswoman and Janlaw. That story ended with the ‘MacRabb’s’ return to San Diego in November 2006. A sequel has been outlined, but alas, production difficulties have delayed it beyond the outline (that is a euphemism for saying that RL has interfered with our fun). It will cover the period Dec 2006 – spring 2007.

Mid-morning/Saturday
June 2007


“Harm?” Mac called softly as she crossed the living room of Trish and Frank’s guesthouse. With their work lives running at warp speed, Mattie’s surgery and recovery, Chloe’s and her impending graduation from LaJolla Country Day School, it had just been easier to stay on in the cozy, comfortable cottage.

Intent on guiding his paintbrush along the doorjamb, the sound of the front door opening and closing hadn’t registered, but his wife’s voice –he’d know that voice anywhere. “Mac!” he exclaimed, whirling to the doorway. “I thought you’d said you wouldn’t be in til this afternoon.”

“Watch it Harmmmmmmm.” Too late. Paint from the brush rotating in the air splattered in blue droplets onto Harm’s head, arm, white tee shirt and the wooden door. The ball of fluff otherwise known as a white bichon frisee scrambled back towards Mac.

“Awww…Harmykins …nearly got a blue bath did you,” Mac cooed at the puppy. “Sorry, no treats in these pockets for you.”

Looking quizzically at Harm, she smirked. “The sky is blue, the sea is blue, my Sailor is blue, and did Frank and Trish ask you to paint the cottage blue?”

“Maaaac,” How good it felt to banter back! “Do you have to call him ‘Harmykins’? He’ll get a complex.”

“And ‘Hammer’ is better? I told you it’s just for fun, in honor of the ladies on that website you keep sneaking peeks at!” She had him good now. “What 'nom de plume' do you post as? Maybe I should have Bud check the IPs…”

“Mac!” The drops of blue paint splattered further and Mac stepped back as Harm’s whole body shook with mirth. “How do you know about that site?”

“I’m a Marine … I always know where you are –especially on the computer!” Mac relented. He was just so much fun to tease. “You always walk away from the computer without clicking out of where you are – of course I see the site you were in! It is the funnest site, though,” she giggled, “those ladies even rhapsodize about your toes. Anyway, I caught a NALO flight that was supposed to be here well before midnight last night. Famous last aviator words. Three unplanned stops across the country.”

“Where is our darling daughter? I want to give her a hug and shower and change.” Fun was fun, but Mac was tired – it had been a long week of meetings, lectures and briefings, both given and attended.

“Hug? Where’s MY hug?” Harm advanced on Mac, still holding the paintbrush. “I’m the husband, don’t I get the first hug?”

“And get blue paint all over me and my uniform? You wash first,” Mac couldn’t stop giggling at his puppy dog pout. “Where’s Mahara?” she asked again.

“A.J.’s babysitting her, they’re watching some Sesame Street videos and building legos. That kid’s so hung up on our kid, I don’t even have to pay him, let alone bribe him. My hug?” he repeated, trying to inject a further hopeful, plaintive note of want and need into his rich voice.

“The 8 year old is babysitting the 1 year old?” Mac just couldn’t help twitting him. “And what will her father say when the 17 year old wants to take the 10 year old to the prom?”

Smirking at her husband’s suddenly astonished bug-eyed face, she relented, digging into one of the cavernous pockets of her BDUs. “Catch!” she tossed the packet to Harm.

“Huh?” Harm’s hand snagged the packet of chocolate kisses.

“A down payment on your hug; consider yourself Hershey-hugged. You should be flattered, that was Mahara’s treat. I’ll share mine with her,” pulling a Ziploc baggie from another pocket. “I had to keep feeding quarters into the geedunk machine to get enough.”

“Enough what?” Harm waved the kisses at her, making kissing sounds.

“Blue M’n’M’s, of course. Don’t you remember, that’s what all the HarmyBoard ladies eat. They wear blue boas too.... I wonder if Mahara would like one for Halloween?”

“You wash up and come join us,” Mac turned to go to the bedrooms chortling. “And if you get paint on the dog, you’ve got bath duty.”

“Bath duty, eh?” Harm eyed the paintbrush and Mac with a gleam and a snicker. “Maybe some blue would add to the camo look.”

“Uh uh – it’s the shoes I saw on EBay while I was checking my email in the terminal that would add to the look. These fabulous greenish-olive-beige, sort of camo look Manolo’s. With the most gorgeous rhinestone buckle at the toes.”

“And I suppose they would be a cousin of those Choo-Choo shoes you like so much?” Now he had her. Mac’s shoe collection was a constant source of banter between the two.

“Cousin Blahnik? Now that would be a sight.” Mac couldn’t help it. It was just so good to be home. She pirouetted wide, arms outstretched and curving around.

“What are you doing?” Even as she spoke, Harm knew where she was at.

Reaching out carefully to avoid the paint splatter, Mac touched his arm. “Just making sure it’s you.”

“I’m hugging my life.” Mac’s voice caught, as the memory of something she’d said long ago flashed by. “I love our life Harm. Here with you and Mahara, I have everything I ever wanted.”