Part 6

20:45

Sunday, Christmas Eve

24 December 2006

Mac’s House

San Diego, California

Harm pulled up to the small beachfront bungalow. The lights were on inside and her car was in the adjacent carport. He breathed in deeply and exhaled slowly to calm his jittery nerves. Walking up the front sidewalk, he rapped briskly on the door. Receiving no answer, he knocked several more times, before trying the handle. Finding it locked, he circled the house looking for signs of life. With the lights on and her car there, he couldn’t imagine where she might have gone. Peering into a window, he noted a small Christmas tree with lights ablaze and a fire in the fireplace. Surely she wouldn’t have gone far, chancing to leave behind the risk of a fire. He tested the back door and found it unlocked. Opening the door, he poked his head inside and called her name…again, no response.

He entered the home and timidly looked around. The living room was small with an attached kitchen and eating area. The place looked tidy as he always remembered, except for an elaborate colorful box on the floor. Walking closer, he noticed it was an old cigar box, clearly decorated by childish hands. He shrugged at the memento; maybe the Roberts’ kids had sent it. Kneeling on the rug, he studied the box’s contents, strewn across the floor. There was an old handkerchief, a small vial with a wilted petal, some jewelry, an AA medallion and a pen. He picked up the pen and rotated it in the light. It bore his initials engraved into the side. He contemplated the mystery of the writing implement a moment, and then remembered when he’d last seen the tool. It had been at her uncle’s trial…he thought he’d misplaced it, but Mac swore she hadn’t seen the pen. He smiled mischievously; he’d caught her red-handed…oh well, maybe she just wanted a souvenir of the trial. Or maybe, he placed the tip of the pen into his mouth in concentration; maybe she wanted a small trinket to remember their first case together.

He placed the pen back into the box and stood to look around. Passing through a side door he entered the bedroom and immediately stopped in place. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, savoring the fragrance that was Mac. He was instantly taken back to a time 20 months ago…to a dance floor at McMurphy’s. Despite his best efforts to keep the memory, that scent had almost escaped his recollection. He walked over to the dresser and picked up the bottle. It was the perfume he’d bought her as a gift. The bottle was nearly empty; but when he removed the ornate lid and held the atomizer to his nose, the scent filled him with a sense of happiness and longing.

Placing the bottle back on the dresser, he walked over to the bed and noticed the dress and coat thrown down in a haphazard heap. He lifted the dress into his hands and ran his finger over the material. The velvet and silk were soft to his touch. She had looked exquisite in the gown. He couldn’t help but take notice of her beauty tonight, even when he’d tried to block his involuntary response. It was only his anger at her unexpected presence that kept him from taking her into his arms. He caressed the fabric once more and then with a determined stance, decided that he needed to take her dancing in this dress…maybe New Year’s, if he played his cards right. Yes, he definitely wanted to take her dancing in this gown. He reached for the hanger on the bed and carefully placed the gown on the satin covered wire, before hanging it over the door.

He passed back into the living room and exited the back patio door. Standing on the deck, he looked out over the expanse of sand to the ocean waves. He missed this sight in London. Sure in D.C., he hadn’t had water at his back door, but it was close enough to escape for a weekend. He realized then, he’d never taken Mac sailing that was something else he needed to remedy…maybe for their honeymoon. Honeymoon, now that thought sent a shiver of thrill through his body. He shook his head, even as a sly grin appeared on his lips; he was getting ahead of himself. He needed to get her to forgive him, to just talk to him, before thoughts of marriage entered in…but this time, there would be no hesitation; marriage was where he intended for this to go. Now if he could just convince his lady fair that he was still her gallant knight.

He wandered out to the water’s edge and looked up and down the shore. In the dark, he could barely see fifty feet and certainly no approaching image of his marine. He headed back to the deck and collapsed into the glider, happy to be off his aching feet. He tipped his head back to rest his fatigued eyes and fought the exhaustion that threatened to overtake his long overtaxed body. Jet lag was catching up to him. Heck, if he was honest, this tired was bone deep and over a year in the making. He couldn’t remember his last good sleep…it had to have been back in D.C. Between the pressures of the job, the loneliness and the unending ache for his marine, he found sleep to be an unreachable goal. He’d never before defined love as having physical qualities or attributes; but after the past year, he had to admit that the overwhelming sense of loss, the ache associated with the yearning, certainly had a physical affect. He often times felt ill for no apparent reason, there was the loss of sleep, no appreciable appetite. He had to make himself eat, and even then, his obvious weight loss was testament enough to his inability to enjoy the most basic needs and pleasures.

As he drifted off to sleep, the realization that he felt at peace for the first time in over a year settled upon him like a warm welcoming blanket. Yes, this was where he belonged…sitting here on Mac’s porch, surrounded by her things, feeling her presence…it didn’t matter where they lived or where they worked as long as they were together.

***

Mac walked along the water’s edge, toeing the sand away in a trail behind her. She’d decided it was just too much work to pick-up her feet, so here she was shuffling back toward home. Molly, her year old chocolate lab, raced in circles around her, nipping at the gusts of wind that ruffled her ears. The dog loved to run sprints through the water, jumping the waves, but Mac barely had the energy to drag herself home.

When she first arrived home after fleeing the party, she’d thrown off the absurdly expensive dress. What was she thinking indulging in such nonsense? Of course nonsense was such a broad inclusive term, which nonsensical act did she mean? The sophomoric indulgence in clothing and things at the encouragement of a teenager? The ridiculous desire to be part of a family for the holidays, even if they weren’t her own? Or the colossal mistake to once again open the wounds and indulge in the fantasy of a future with her wing-studded knight?

She’d pined away for six months after they had parted company, calling, e-mailing, sending correspondence. When not a single one was answered, she promised herself to put that long indulged dream to rest. She’d been doing a pretty good job of it until she met Trish and Evie. She’d been truthful with Evie this evening; while she wasn’t exactly happy or content, at least she was surviving. Surviving was something right?

She’d been successful in her new command; although if she were truly honest, she hated the new position. She didn’t realize how much she enjoyed investigating, litigating, even the judiciary had its moments of fun…of course, part of that sense of contentment had been predicated on the presence of a certain tall handsome naval commander situated right next door. His presence in her life had become as necessary as eating and breathing, and in his absence those life-sustaining activities had begun to seem woefully unnecessary. When he walked out of her life, it had been as if the spark that kept her alive had gone out too. So here she was alone once again, miserable once again, and fighting to survive once again.

She looked down at the coin in her hand. The stupid thing had picked a fine time to run out of luck. Her most important chance for a shot at happiness, and fate decided to step in and drop her right on her six. She should have known better, no way the daughter of Joe MacKenzie would end up happy and content. Life just didn’t work out like that for people like them. Shining knights and white horses only rode to the rescue on the ornate pages of a little girl’s fictional storybook.

She pursed her lips and exhaled at the irony; the nursery rhyme, ‘He Loves Me NOT’ had been tattooed onto her soul in chilling fashion, tonight. Maybe this time she would learn her lesson, MacKenzies don’t get fairy tale endings…life was never that kind. She paused in front of her house and watched the waves rolling in and out. Rubbing her thumb over the nickel, she pulled back her arm to toss the coin into the sea. She was halted mid-motion by Molly’s animated barking. Turning back toward the house, she was stopped in her tracks by the image of a tall familiar figure.

Harm had been awakened from a delectable dream of his marine by incessant barking. Scrubbing a hand over his eyes to clear the sleep, he stood and peered into the distance. Just as in his dream, the apparition came true; she stood in the moonlight at the edge of the waves.

She held her breath as he approached, uncertain of whether her heart could sustain another blow. Sensing her master’s fear, Molly stood guard growling at the advancing intruder. Mac called the dog to her side and retreated further into the shadows, arms crossed tightly in self-protection.

He stopped a few feet away, sensing her discomfort. Extending a hand, he beckoned softly, “Sarah, I….”

She shook her head, “Don’t call me that…you don’t get to call me by that name anymore.” He bristled at the response and took a few steps back. “What are you doing here, Harm? It’s Christmas, shouldn’t you be with your family?”

He diverted his eyes, “I am with my family…here.”

She inhaled deeply to control the tears, “I don’t think your girlfriend would be to pleased to hear that statement. Really, you should just go home; I’ll be fine…I always am. Alone seems to work for me, I’m getting used to it…I’ve had enough practice in the last year and a half.” She turned to walk back down the beach.

“Mac, wait…Julia, she’s not my girlfriend. I just used her as a plant to keep my mother off my back. Mom’s been bugging me about forgetting you, about moving on with my life. She told me she had a nice woman lined up for me to get acquainted with this holiday. Honestly, I didn’t know it was you; Mom didn’t say anything about meeting you. I wasn’t ready to…I couldn’t just forget you…sooooo, Julia agreed to help. She really does live next door to me in London, but her folks live here in San Diego. She was coming home for the holidays anyways.” He shrugged, “She was just a convenient stand-in…we’re not involved as anything more than friends.”

She studied his face and the expression in his eyes; he was telling the truth, “Then why were you so indifferent to me? I didn’t have any ulterior motives for being there; I just wanted to see you.” Her voice grew softer as she asked the question.

He took a step toward her and Molly tensed and growled. He smiled and pointed to the dog, “Could you call the MPs off? I promise not to hurt you.”

She looked unsure, “I’m not sure…”

“Please Mac, I won’t come any closer unless you invite me.”

Mac patted the dog’s head, “Molly heel…it’s OK, girl.” When Molly settled in close, Mac scratched her head and then pointed toward the house, “Good dog, now go to the house.” The dog shifted her eyes from Mac to Harm before slowly trotting to the porch. Sitting on the edge, her eyes never left Harm.

“Well, I guess it’s safe to say that no one’s getting near you without Molly’s permission. I might have to offer her a bribe,” he smiled disarmingly. When Mac failed to laugh at the joke, he grew serious again. “Mac, my only explanation for my behavior this evening is that I was protecting my own heart. When I saw you at the house, I was still under the impression that you were married and had a child.” He looked away as he nervously dug his toe into the sand, “I uh…I didn’t want you to think I was still pining away while you’d moved on. Last September, when I saw you at the restaurant I knew I’d finally done it this time…you wouldn’t be coming back. I wasted my last chance. So tonight, I tried to pretend that I was OK, that it didn’t matter. It wasn’t until after you left that Mom, Evie and Mattie gave me an earful,” he smiled and rubbed his still sore earlobe, “…literally and figuratively.” His smile grew, “Oh yeah, one word of advice, don’t ever cross Evie…she tougher than she looks.”

Mac returned the first smile since his arrival, “I know what you mean. She doesn’t take no for an answer, and she finds a way to make you think that her ideas are really yours.”

He took a few tentative steps in her direction and she retreated a step in response, “What do you want Harm? Why are you here?”

He took another step and she stood her ground, “I want you.”

She shook her head as her tears glistened in the moonlight, “I don’t think I can do this again. You nearly destroyed me the last time you walked away. I can’t start that dance again.”

He advanced another step and whispered, “But what if I’m offering you every dance on my card, and the chance to tango forever?” When she didn’t respond, he took one more step and stared into her eyes, “Mac?”

She stood silent, eyes flicking rapidly from him to the house and back. Finally her voice cracked as she became unnerved by the intensity of his gaze, “What do you see when you look at me that way?”

He continued to stare, “I see…a desirable woman.”

She realized her mistake almost immediately; she didn’t want to have that discussion, again. Turning away from his gaze, “I can’t do this.”

He stepped closer, “That’s not the right response.”

She shook her head pleading with him, “Please, don’t make me live those words again.”

He stood resolved, “I believe your next line is…and I see a man who’s so afraid to lose control.” She swiped a hand over her cheek to wipe away the tears.

He took another step in her direction, “And my response back then, was…in my world, you lose control you die.” She inhaled a shuddering breath and closed her eyes.

One more step, “But I’ve learned something about control in the last year, Mac. When you hold on so tight to your emotions, because you’re afraid to let go…you might as well be dead, because you lose all the things that make you feel alive.”

As he took one final step, she opened her eyes. He extended his arms in invitation and whispered, “I have a new life creed, Mac. For the rest of my days, I plan to lose control…to live life with abandon…and to love you to the point of insanity.”