'Teamwork' - Conclusion
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
[Excerpts from Harm's diary]
Jan. 14th Bobo Dioulasso, Burkina Faso
Dad,
I think I've never done such a crazy mission. I mean, I've done very crazy missions, being in mortal danger all the time, doing illegal things, disobeying orders... don't tell the admiral - black on white like this, my confession doesn't look nice. Whatever. What I was trying to get at was that I've done all kinds of crazy stuff in the line of duty but this mission is unlike anything I've ever done.
We're driving across Africa. We're tracking cars. And we're doing nothing at all.
Believe me, Dad, during the last four days literally nothing has happened that would have been worth writing. Mac and I covered about 3000 km, are currently ranked 78th and are enjoying our vacation, sort of. Ever after leaving Agades, Mac and I have been happy to be together and we didn't need anything else. She drives, I navigate, we halfheartedly observe Dunfoss who even managed to win yesterday's stage, we talk a little, we tease each other...
I can clearly tell that all this is driving Clay nuts. More than once I saw him with his sat phone, gesticulating agitatedly, apparently trying to make someone back in D.C. understand that our little joyride is a big screw-up.
Okay, I wasn't quite sincere when I said that nothing worth relating happened since I last wrote to you. Today's stage was just plain crazy, but first I'll quickly tell you where we are and how we got here - besides driving in a Ford Focus.
The day after our wonderful break at Agades, we went south to Zinder and crossed the invisible border into black Africa. Rudimentary English replaced rudimentary French as official language and we left the Sahara dunes behind us once and for all. We had reached the Sahel zone, rolling across wide plains of so-called camel grass and we got to see the first trees that aren't palms and don't need an oasis to grow. The soil is amazingly red around here. Bensen explained to us that this is due to iron compounds washed out and rusting along in the earth. These laterite routes are a little tricky to follow as the last rainy season, short as it was, damaged them quite a bit and no one here has the money for any basic repairs. But at least we won't have to dig anymore.
The next day, proceeding from Zinder - Niger's ex-capital - to Niamey - Niger's actual capital - was the longest stage of all. We covered almost a thousand kilometers, mostly on rather soft ground with deep sandy ruts. It was a typical transition stage, only 252 km of special track. Having departed at 0450 in the morning, we were pretty much done for when, some time after 1900, we finally arrived. I think I never suffered as severe a case of highway hypnosis as I did that day.
Yesterday we left Niger and entered Burkina Faso, former Upper Volta, and reached its capital Ouagadougou. The vegetation keeps getting thicker and greener. We're in the middle of the savannah regions now and we even got to see a few zebras and gnus. As I told you - we're on holiday here. Although we were bound to hurry as Dunfoss made another attempt at winning a stage and finally succeeded, at one point Mac and I were so merry that we actually stopped, got out and took a few safari photos with some nearby zebras. We were laughing to no end.
And today, well... what can I say? I'm feeling like I could embrace the whole world. Yeah, I knew you'd have guessed it: Mac gave me the last brick stone but one. But you know why? This, you'll never guess. Dad, we WON THE STAGE. Yes, shut your mouth, we did. I still don't know how but here's the trophy, standing right beside my backpack. So I guess we really did win.
The irony of it all is that I accidentally caused our victory. In other words, I made yet another navigation mistake. Today's stage from Ouagadougou to Bobo Dioulasso - a nice city, actually, with broad avenues, a moderate climate, an all-African flair and an "overpopulation" of bicycles - was quite easy compared with what we had to go through during the last two weeks. Or maybe it was just the routine that made our task seem easy but, be it as it may, to both of us, for the better part of the distance, today's stage seemed like a walk in the park. We went across rainforest-like savannahs with luxurious green vegetation and there was next to nothing left to do on the navigating part. Occasionally we had to avoid a few villages and we had to look out for road damage.
What made today's race interesting was the weather. After about 500 km, we came to know a real tropical convection rainstorm and we were literally washed off the road and landed in the roadside ditch. When we'd finally freed ourselves with the help of our trusty winch (Dad, Mac looks dead hot when she's soaking wet!), I noticed that our GPS was malfunctioning. We still got fairly reasonable readouts about Dunfoss' position (not that anyone cared about him anyway), but our own position seemed to be lost to the sensors. Now try to navigate through the thickets of a rainforest without any hints which track goes in which direction whenever you reach a fork in the road. True, I still had the compass but before long we were lost. This was what saved us the bad luck that many teams were facing today.
The course we were following led us in a wide curve all around a lower area. The main road should have gone right through it but as it appears, it was blocked by water that had left the nearby river-bed because of the heavy rain. None of the competing teams had passed that point by that time and once the first cars arrived, they were stuck because the water had by then made it impossible to re-ascend to the region where the road Mac and I were following had separated from the main track. Apparently we hadn't been the only ones to make use of the winch today so many teams were behind schedule. As it happened, Mac and I got to be the first ones to use the alternative route. Accidentally, yes, but still...
Mac and I were completely oblivious to what was happening as we were only trying to get our car safely through the rainstorm. When the weather eventually cleared and we finally reached bivouac, the first thing that we became aware of was the herd of reporters who were closing in on us. I could see that Mac was just as startled as I was. Warily eyeing everything and everyone, we got out of the car.
"What the..." Mac didn't get any further.
The TV stickboy from the other day yanked his microphone between us. "Congratulations!" he shouted. "Deb, tell us: how are you feeling?"
The glance that Mac cast me clearly included a plea for help. I stepped up to her as she answered: "Wet. Why?"
"You just won today's stage!" the stickboy went on over-cheerily.
Mac and I stared at each other, open-mouthed. Then I turned to the reporter. "Excuse me, we did... what?"
The TV guy's eyes went wide and his grin exuberant. He turned back to the other journalists, shouting: "They don't even know!!" Turning back, he pounded me on the back, making me cough. "You're today's winners, guys! You beat them all!"
"You've got to be kidding..." Aghast, I looked back at Mac, only to find her smirking.
"Your honor..." she completed under her breath, reminding me of my not too professional first appearance in front of her bench. As I saw her rise her hand, I couldn't help ginning myself. I gave her five and embraced her.
"Well done, your honor," I whispered as I squeezed her tightly to me.
"Thanks, counselor," she replied just as low, returning my squeeze.
What followed then, somehow happened in slow motion. Mac and I answered a few more questions which took up a considerable amount of time as each journalist or TV team wanted some exclusive direct quotes. Then Bensen joined us, all giddy, and dragged us over to some little podium while all the cameras and photographers filed up in front. An official-looking man in a gray suit, representing the rally organization, took a microphone. Meanwhile, quite a few fellow drivers had arrived and were cheering us. Amazingly fast, a remarkable crowd of spectators had assembled, too. The noise they made was incredible. I was like in a daze and I could tell that Mac must have felt very similar.
"Winners of today's stage from Ouagadougou to Bobo Dioulasso: from the United States of America, representing Team Ford - Deborah Kellerman and her navigator, Douglas Vandenberg!"
Someone pushed me in front and I dizzily followed Mac, climbing onto the little wooden square. The flashes illuminating the dusk were blinding me.
We both received a little trophy and a hearty handshake. Switching on my grin, I put my arm around Mac's shoulders and we posed a little for the cameras. Dad, this was great! I mean, look at it this way: you save the Russian President's life and no one knows you had a hand in it. You drive a few hours on some deserted dirt road with the person you love best in this world - and everyone is cheering you like you just saved the Russian President's life!
When I heard a loud 'plop' near my left ear I jumped and turned around, just in time to have a fountain of a sparkling, slightly sticky something splash in my face. For a split second I gasped, casting an anxious glance in Mac's direction, but a knowing wink from her immediately reassured me. I managed to take a quick look at the label on the oversized champagne bottle and relaxed: sparkling cider. Bensen, who was thoroughly showering us, whooping loudly, obviously knew about her alcoholism. It was then that I realized something else: he had apparently calculated the possibility of Mac winning a stage! Why else should he have brought such a special non- alcoholic champagne shower all the way? I don't think the organizers kept one just in case one of their winners were an alcoholic, do you, Dad?
Somehow, this was the final push that I needed to give in to the general folly. Bensen had known all along that Mac would do fabulously. My Mac! She made it! The hottest gung-ho semper-fi jarhead-lawyer rally queen of all times! Laughing loudly, I grabbed the bottle myself and gave Mac a shower to remember. She squealed, laughing, tackled me from the side and managed to get rid of the corpus delicti, delightedly taking revenge. A moment later, Silvio Giannetti, an Italian driver who had surprisingly arrived second, grabbed the bottle from her and aimed again at both of us until the pressure in the bottle was too low to continue.
A moment later, Mac turned to me with one of the most radiant smiles that I'd ever gotten from her, and I just lost it. Cameras or not, I swept her up in my arms and kissed her passionately, feeling her respond after a second of shock. The public cheered even louder and quite a few catcalls were heard. When we broke the contact, more than just a little self- conscious, we noticed the happy expressions on all the journalists' faces. Everyone's favorite heroes, the wild lawyers from D.C., surprise winners of the day and obviously in love - what a sensational, heart-warming story!
Once we were released from public attention, Mac very quickly excused herself, granting me another quick kiss and claiming that she absolutely craved a shower. I guess she was more likely longing for a little space to digest her happiness, just as I was, but I didn't comment. When I got back to our tent after having finally showered myself, she was already sleeping peacefully and I didn't feel the necessity to wake her. When I settled down, though, I found yet another little pack on my sleeping bag. With an all-encompassing smile, I set the little brick stone aside and read her accompanying note:
Harm,
Thank you for four days of perfect vacation. I guess honeymooning with you should be fun.
Today's victory is yet another teamwork hallmark moment. Who'd have guessed we'd get that good at it? Anyway, I'm glad we did.
Love, Mac
Imagine my actual state of mind, Dad. I'll say no more.
Harm
Jan. 15th UN peace forces camp Monrovia, Liberia
Dad.
You're familiar with Murphy's Law, aren't you? The worst that can happen will happen. Once again, Murphy was right.
Today, I was granted the chance to experience what the worst-case scenario could be like. My greatest fears all but came true. For a few excruciating moments, I thought I'd lost everything good in my life. That was just what I had always, always dreaded most, remember? I'm still shutting all my emotions out because the numbness somehow makes it easier to endure. I'd go insane if I let it affect me in any way right now. I guess, I'll just tell you what happened and then you can judge for yourself if my behavior is acceptable or not.
As you can deduce from the location I mentioned, our vacation is over. Mission completed. Successfully, I should add, but somehow I don't care about that at all. You just don't celebrate when your team partner nearly gets killed.
Actually, the day started just like all other racing days before. We were to enter Mali and finish the stage at its capital, Bamako. Instead, Mac and I were stranded somewhere in Côte d'Ivoire and were eventually med-evac'ed to Liberia. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the beginning: I should start by telling you about something that Mac and I noticed before the start, something that we didn't really take to be important.
Walking over to our car, we passed the Turkish team that we'd met the other day at the Agades teahouse. Celebi and Kir greeted us just as good- naturedly as we'd known them. Kir was holding a white case with a red cross on top, apparently intending to put it into their car's trunk.
"Hey, you okay?" I asked, just a little curious.
Celebi acknowledged with a smiling nod.
"What do you need such a big medical case for?" Mac asked, just to make a little conversation.
"I'm a diabetic," Celebi answered calmly. "I have to take my syringes wid' me. And for 'dat I need a case as big as 'dis because 'dey need to be packed safely. I can't risk breaking them."
"Oh, I see. We'll cross our fingers that all goes well." Mac and I weren't really paying attention as we were due to depart in less than ten minutes.
"'Tanks," Celebi answered with one last friendly wave. "How about getting toge'der for a cup of coffee after 'de stage?" he added.
I turned back. "That'd be nice. We'll see you there!"
Ten minutes later, Mac and I were on the road again, rolling through the tropical forest like the day before, enjoying our mutual happiness without speaking.
For about 400 km, nothing happened. Gunny and Clay were observing Dunfoss and Mac and I were just going on yet another safari, conversing easily.
"... so you say having Jingo sniff at the oregano wasn't a good idea?" Mac asked me, laughing a little incredulously.
"No, I didn't say that," I replied. "It worked and you proved that the man was telling the truth. But what if it hadn't worked, Mac? What if he'd indicated the real narcotics?"
"But he didn't," she shot back with a gloat.
"No, he didn't," I conceded, "But don't you think it's a bit of a risk, basing a defense on an experiment in which you rely on the nose of an old dog failing his job?"
"Sure, it was risky but..."
"Stop!!!" I suddenly shouted as we turned around a corner and nearly skidded into three cars that were caught in a heavy collision. I got out for a moment and asked if everyone was all right. Apparently, no one was seriously hurt.
I saw Celebi applying a bandage to Kir's arm. "You sure you don't need help?" I offered.
"No," Celebi's smile was as easy as ever, tinged with a slight note of compassion for his hurting friend. "'Dis is nasty, but we've seen worse, haven't we, Taifun?"
Kir nodded a grinning consent. Wishing him a quick recovery, I climbed back into the car and we headed on, both of us thoughtful for some reason we couldn't quite identify.
Suddenly Mac gasped and stepped on the brakes. I gave her a startled look.
"The medical case!" she blurted out, eyes wide.
Instantly, the scales fell from my eyes. "The one they used was small! That means the one in the trunk..."
"...contains something else," she once again finished my sentence, frantic. "Something that mustn't break at any cost!" Fiercely yanking the wheel around, Mac made a u-turn and, with screeching tires, headed back.
Swearing loudly, I reached for the secure comm-link. How could we have been so stupid not to get suspicious at all? We'd both been completely fooled by Celebi's open and easy friendliness. Great.
"Carl, do you copy?" I yelled into the mike.
A second later, static was heard and then Clay's voice made its way over the line. "I do, Doug. What's the matter? Over."
"Change of target!" I panted. "It's Celebi. Deb and I are in his tracks. Over!"
"Wait. You're telling me we were behind the wrong team? Look, that's impossible, they clearly told me..."
Impatient, I interrupted him, not caring anymore if anyone could hear us or not. "Dammit, Clay, trust me with this! Mac and I are following him, get us reinforcements, ASAP! We have to rely on seeing him, we don't have his GPS readouts!"
"Harm, be reasonable, we..."
"Damn, Clay, JUST DO IT!!" I shut off the comm-link in exasperation.
Meanwhile, Mac had spotted Celebi and Kir just as they were leaving the main road and turning into another, narrower one that led south. We immediately followed suit.
It took the Turkish only about a minute to guess that they were being followed. Celebi stepped on the accelerator with all his might and initially managed to create a little additional space between his car and ours, but he had clearly underestimated Mac. Fuming, she took up the chase, reminding me of a predator that mercilessly went after its prey.
We were following a road alongside the Bani river, trying our best not to slip off the wet track and end up in the ditch. We gained yard after yard, closing in on them. Eventually we passed a signpost that told us that we'd just entered the Republic of Côte d'Ivoire but the soldier at the customs post didn't even have the time to get up before we whooshed past him at full speed.
Just before entering the town of Odienné, we had finally closed the distance. Starting to overtake them at their port side and then willfully slamming our car into theirs, Mac managed to push them into the ditch. We got out immediately, disposed of our helmets and occupied ourselves with the two men.
I reached Kir as he tried to get hold of a gun that he'd apparently kept under his seat. Throwing myself at him, I smashed him against the open car door and, getting a heavy blow on my ribcage as he tried to defend himself, I managed to take him out with a precisely aimed right hook.
When I looked around for Mac my heart stopped beating. I saw her toppling down the bank, hitting her head hard on a rock. Unconscious, she rolled on until I saw her motionless form fall into the river and start to slowly float away.
Inside my soul, rage welled up, a rage so fierce and powerful and deadly as I didn't even know I was capable of feeling. With an earth-shattering "NO!!" I attacked Celebi from behind, beating him unconscious before he even had the time to react. Then I half ran, half rolled down the bank, flung myself into the startlingly cold water and swam on, driven by the force of sheer despair.
When I had reached her limp body after what seemed to me an endless amount of time, I needed yet another three minutes to get her back to the shore and drag her onto firm ground. Mac was frighteningly pale. Blood was trickling from the gash on her head. She wasn't breathing and I felt no pulse at all.
Dad, it was the scene from the Watertown all over again. She was dead in my arms. Like back then, the panic threatened to overwhelm me - only a hundred times worse. I had opened my heart to her. I had let her in, had allowed myself to love her. Now, as I was desperately resuscitating her, tears streaming down my face, I was hit full force by the consequences of that one mistake that I'd once sworn I'd never make. It was just as I'd foreseen: it was too much to take. Eventually, though, I managed to close my heart against the pain as I was frantically going on: one-two-three-four- five, breathe, wait, breathe, search for pressure point, one-two-three-four- five, breathe, wait, breathe, search for pressure point, one-two-three-four- five...
What seemed like ages later, I heard a helicopter and saw that Clay had managed to contact the nearest UN peace forces in Liberia. On board the med- evac, they had a defibrillator and finally managed to bring Mac back to life while the troops on the ground took Celebi and Kir into custody and secured the cars.
We went directly to the largest hospital in Monrovia where Mac was put under observation. Three hours later, Clay and Gunny joined me, worried to no end, but confirming that we'd been right.
Celebi had had the grenades safely stored in his fake medical case that was secured in the trunk in a highly inventive way so as to dampen the blows. Being questioned, he turned out to be an Islamic extremist who was obsessed by the idea of establishing a permanent Al Qaeda cell at Erhac, right under the nose of the NATO forces, so to say. He had managed to get into contact with the terror network but apparently they had so far only shown interest in the weapons that he might be able to procure them from Erhac base.
So, when he had learned of the existence of the Anthrax grenades, Celebi had offered Al Qaeda a deal: he would safely get them to an inconspicuous port like Monrovia, knowing that he would be doing the rally anyway, and in exchange, the organization would support him in erecting a terrorist training camp in Turkey. He hadn't had the slightest idea that we were looking for the grenades. When he understood who we really were, Clay told me that he could clearly see that Celebi was mentally beating himself up for telling us where he was from.
When I asked how the Turkish team had managed to let their cargo go unnoticed for such a long time, Clay gave me a wry smile. "He didn't carry the grenades in the car before today. They were in his camper. He told me he slept on them every night."
No wonder we hadn't seen a thing. And he'd come so close to getting away with them.
I was sitting at Mac's bedside when she finally woke from the sleep she'd so much needed after today's ordeal. I looked up when I felt her hand move in mine.
"Hey sailor," she said in a low voice, smiling.
I forced myself to return the smile. "Hey..."
"Where are we?"
"Monrovia."
"And the grenades?"
"All taken care of," I reassured her. "They even managed to arrest the Al Qaeda contacts."
She sobered a little. "I guess I owe you one, don't I?"
"Yeah." I didn't trust my voice to any more words as I recalled today's events.
I watched her gaze turn wary. "Harm, it's over. I'm alright."
"Yeah."
The wariness turned to dread. Her voice started to quiver ever so slightly as she went on, trying to keep the tone light. "Why don't you come here and take me in your arms for a few moments, my hero?"
I looked away, swallowing. Then I turned my head back and forced myself to make eye-contact. "You need some more sleep, Mac," I answered, trying to sound as gentle as possible, as I softly placed her hand on her stomach and let go of it.
"Harm..." The word came out very low, together with a sob.
I got up a little too quickly. "I'm sorry, Mac," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut against the burning tears, "I can't." Turning around, I headed for the door when her calm, incredibly sad voice made me stop.
"I know." She took a deep, shaky breath. "You do care, just not enough," she added in a resigned whisper.
My back still turned towards her, I gulped heavily. "That's not true." I had to press the words out one by one. "I can't be with you because I care too much."
She didn't respond immediately but as I reached for the door handle, she spoke up once more. "Harm?"
"Yeah?" I couldn't turn around.
"Please, don't stay with me. Go back to D.C. with the others." There was no reproach in her voice.
I tried to object. "But."
"Please, Harm," she gently cut me off, "I'm gonna be alright."
I finally managed to turn around and face her, only to encounter that strange expression in her eyes once again, full of bottomless sadness and deepest understanding at the same time.
"Okay," I whispered, defeated. Then I grabbed for the door handle and fled.
Some time later when I had reached my quarters at the UN camp, a knock at the door startled me out of my numbness. When I opened I found myself eye to eye with Andrew Bensen who was shaking with suppressed anger.
"Bensen? What..."
I didn't get any further. Without uttering a syllable, he hit me in the jaw with a right hook that made me see stars. Gasping, I tried to address him about his behavior, but he just wordlessly turned on his heel and left.
While I was still leaning against the doorframe, trying to get my surroundings into focus again, Clay walked by, stopped and stepped up to me.
"Bensen hit me," I explained, the pain evident in my voice.
Clay just glanced at me, cold and hostile. "I know," he replied calmly, "He won the coin toss."
With that, he left me alone.
Dad, why don't they understand? Clay has been there already, he should know what this is about! Don't you think I have the right to protect myself just as much as everyone else? And I'll still always be there for Mac, she can't doubt that! She's got to know I'd never let her down! But I mustn't let my guard down, either. Never. I couldn't handle losing her. And today has once again shown me just how easily that could happen. Please, tell me I'm right, please, Dad! Tell me that there's one person out there who understands me!
Harm
Jan, 26th Washington, D.C.
Dad,
Things have gotten worse between Mac and me since we've returned from Africa. They kept Mac under observation at the hospital for another five days, just to make sure the lack of oxygen didn't cause any permanent damage. Then she flew back and was immediately cleared for duty as long as it didn't include physical strain. Three days ago, she returned to JAG.
We hardly talk at all. If we do, it never goes beyond anything work- related. I haven't seen her smile once. She avoids me. I know I hurt her badly but why can't she see that we're all better off if we just keep going on as best friends?
When I thought she had drowned in that river back in Côte d'Ivoire, I thought I'd explode from the pain I felt inside. I couldn't take it. It was Diane all over again, only a hundred times worse. That's why I drew back. Because I care too much, just as I told her. But I'm not sure she understands.
How can I make her understand?
Wish you were here, Dad. Harm
Jan, 28th
Dear Dad,
Once again, it's 0200 and I'm sitting at my dining room table, writing to you. I must admit, these 'conversations' between you and me have become a habit, and I'm actually looking forward to them more and more each day, especially on a day like today.
I had a roller-coaster ride of feelings today that was worse than anything that I've told you of during the last weeks. I know that sounds crazy, I'm laughing at myself incredulously saying it. All I need to do is turn back a few pages and read what I wrote to you - my confusion always sounded like it couldn't get worse, didn't it? Funny thing is: I was convinced of what I wrote.
Right now, I don't know how this letter will end because all I feel inside is just one big hurricane. I'm utterly and completely unable to get the slightest order into my line of thinking. Too much happened today. I'm still processing all the emotions I went through and I sincerely hope writing to you will help - normally it does. Okay, I'll start at the beginning.
Today was Friday, and to begin with, things weren't any better between Mac and myself this morning. We exchanged exactly four words at work today, adding up all that we both said. "Good morning, Colonel," I tried, and she just said "Commander..." without even looking up. Then she had a hearing and when she got back I had a difficult interview to conduct.
I was done around 1700 and hoped to at least wish her a pleasant weekend. When I looked up, her office was already dark but the real trouble started when I walked over to Harriet to ask her at what time Mac had left for today.
Harriet looked at me as if she'd seen a ghost. "Sir, you know that her flight leaves at 1805 from Dulles."
Flight? What flight? Mac hadn't hinted with one single word that she had to go out of town. Completely clueless I asked Harriet where Mac was going and her eyes got even wider if that's possible.
"Don't tell me you don't know..." she trailed off, aghast, horror showing in her eyes.
Suddenly I felt my stomach going wild. Something was wrong, very wrong. I remember that my first attempt at speaking failed miserably. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "What is it that I should know, Harriet?"
She blanched. Dad, I rarely saw Harriet that terrorized. Of course, my suspicions rose to no limits in no time. "What, Harriet?" I urged her to go on.
"She's... she's transferring..." Harriet almost whispered. "She told me that you knew and approved of it and that it wasn't to be talked about by the admiral's order. We even had a little goodbye drink last night, all of us. We were astonished not to see you, sir, but the colonel said that you had an important appointment and lately, you were very busy catching up on your cases and the two of you were just so... after the rally... so I thought... we..."
The world was beginning to spin in front of my eyes. I think I must have swayed on my feet for the next thing I remember is being sat down by Harriet on her own chair. "Where?" was the only thing I got out of my throat although I feared I already knew. The admiral had been especially cold to me of late.
"Brussels, NATO headquarters," she confirmed the catastrophe.
The whirlwind that was my mind rose to a full-blown gale. Dad, she transferred to Europe without even letting me know! Rage, despair and loss fought a battle inside my chest. I don't know what you felt when you realized you had lost us but I guess what I felt at that moment came close. I didn't know what to do with my hands, they wouldn't obey me anymore. I had a million questions on my mind but all were shaded by only one to which I feared I knew the answer. 'Why? For God's sake, why?' I was aware that whoever was still at the office had stopped working and was looking over but I didn't care. Funny how those details lose all of their importance in the blink of an eye, isn't it?
"Why didn't anybody tell me?" I only croaked out, more to myself than to her. Just how much did I hurt her that my actions had the power to destroy everything that had ever been between us? Just how cruel must I have been to the one woman I ever truly loved in my life, Dad? Yes, I love her more than I ever loved Diane. I have known for a long time but at that moment the realization was once again crystal clear in my mind. How could I ever ignore my feelings? I'm completely at a loss.
Harriet placed a shaking hand on my arm. "We thought you knew," she whispered, "And Admiral Chegwidden and the colonel herself were so serious about keeping it quiet."
I looked up but didn't really see her. My vision was suddenly blurred. In afterthought I guess this was the first time Harriet Sims-Roberts ever saw me in tears. Only now do I remember how she sucked in her breath and stared at me. Back then, I could only think of one thing: Dulles. Without another word, I jumped to my feet, grabbed my coat and cover and literally ran out of the office.
I have no idea how I survived D.C. rush hour traffic. Or how I even found the right road to Dulles, for that matter. The only thing I remember is constantly praying: 'God, don't let it be too late. Don't let it be too late!' Somehow I made it to the airport. When I parked my car my watch read 1753. I dashed through the swing doors, sped along the never-ending corridors, not taking care of who got in my way. There was only one flight leaving for Brussels at 1805.
When I finally arrived at the gate I thought my chest would explode. I was panting and coughing but I didn't really pay attention to that, I think. Boarding had just begun and there she was, quietly standing in line, still in her uniform. Even though I could only see her back, her attitude told me exactly how she felt. She was a woman who naturally wore her pride, who didn't waver and went on with her life. And yet, an aura of sadness, defeat and resignation radiated from her. I think no one else but me was able to detect it but I damned sure did. Clearly. Because I had caused it.
"Mac!" I yelled from the barrier, not caring about the many people that looked in astonishment at the naval commander in full uniform who didn't seem to care one bit about conduct unbecoming an officer. "Mac!"
I saw her tense. She was just about to have her carryon checked. Slowly she turned and looked at me, her eyes mirroring her shock that I had found out and at the same time overflowing once again with that silent, bottomless sadness that was devoid of any reproach.
"Mac, don't go, please!" I yelled, desperate. She only looked at me for two or three endless seconds. Then I saw her quietly mouth "Be safe, Harm." and she turned and walked away in the direction of the gangway, never looking back.
Dad, I have no idea what happened in the following minutes. I stood like I was petrified. I didn't feel anything, didn't see anything, didn't hear anything. Everything just went numb. The noises fused into one monotonous humming. Mac, my Sarah, had decided against me. Eventually one thing made its way to my conscious, though. The loudspeaker cracked and announced: "Departure United 2938 to Brussels." That was when my world finally shattered.
I have lived through many painful situations, Dad. Like when I found out how you died, for example. Or Diane's death, of course. Or when I thought I would die myself, out at sea, and never be able to see Mac again. But, I swear, nothing ever came close to what I went through just about eight hours ago. The pain choked me, drowned me, crushed me, everything at the same time. I had lost all that I had been living for, even though I hadn't realized it that clearly until right then. This time, her goodbyes were definite. I could read it in her eyes. I had depended on my credit once too often. There's only so much Sarah's heart can take.
I somehow made my way to the nearest bistro area, got myself an alibi cup of tea and slumped down on a seat far at the back. Facing the wall, I rested my face in my hands and wept.
I don't know how long I sat there, silently crying my eyes out. I think, for any bystanders who only saw me from behind it must have looked as if I were sleeping, just another exhausted traveler stealing a few minutes of rest before going after his business again. Anyway, people left me alone, and I was grateful for it.
I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and thought I must be losing my senses. Mac was quietly standing at my side, looking at me with a neutral expression, silently offering me a handkerchief. I guess I stared as if she were an alien. Normally, a reaction as this would have caused her to smile, but she just kept looking at me with those huge dark eyes of hers, her expression carefully masking whatever she might be feeling at that moment.
Understanding that I needed an explanation, she said. "Blizzard coming in. The flight was canceled when we were already taxiing to the runway. They're getting us hotel rooms until we can get out."
"But your apartment..." I whispered, not really understanding.
"Already let," she only said. "The guy wanted something furnished."
"Why, Mac?" I wasn't even sure if my words had been audible at all.
She placed the handkerchief in front of me on the table, never relieving me from that guarded, seemingly void look that hurt me to the bottom of my soul, more than any anger of hers ever could have.
"You know the reason," she stated. Strangely, there was no bitterness in her words. "I thought it would be better to leave quietly to avoid any more discussions."
I guess that was when it dawned on me that I had just been given one ultimate chance to speak. Dad, I don't think I was ever that scared and courageous in my life at the same time. I couldn't think of any other thing to do. I got up, quickly dried my eyes and took Mac's hands in mine. She didn't pull away, but still showed no sign of emotion, either. She just waited. Well, what could I have expected of her? To let her guard down in front of me? Dream on, Rabb. Nevertheless, I spoke. I had no chance but I vowed to myself I would die trying.
"Mac, I... please, you know... the thing is..." Damn. Get a grip, Hammer! Mac only looked at me, unmoving, unperturbed. Unfeeling?
I knew there was only one thing to say. I heard the words deep inside myself. I felt as if I had to push them up inch by inch to my tongue but I was determined not to back down. It had been too long since I'd ever said them to a woman. But I realized that they hadn't been buried along with her. I still had them in me and was suddenly all but dying to finally, finally get them out.
"I love you, Sarah," I said very low, desperately searching her eyes for any reaction at all. Nothing. 'Say something, anything,' I silently implored her. Anything would be better than this neutral silence. "I love you," I repeated, whispering, "And I finally understood that there is no possible way of ever caring too much. Forget what I told you at the hospital. I alone allowed that feeling to grow inside me and I never want to live without it again. Please, don't go away. Tell me whatever I must do to make you stay."
Still she didn't react. I felt fresh tears well up inside myself and willed them down, swallowing. I understood. I had to figure it out by myself. She was tired of having to take the lead.
"I need you in my life, Mac, more than anything else," I went on, forcing myself to continue speaking. "I told you we were a team, didn't I? I didn't behave like we were, I know. But I can't imagine my life without you and me being together. You complete me, Sarah. Without you, I am incapable of living up to my standards. It's you who makes me reach them. And it's the two of us, it's our team that opens to me the one street I want my life to take. I know it took me far too long to figure it out. And it took me longer still to draw the right conclusions. But here I am, willing to let go completely and give up everything just to have you."
When I still saw her standing motionless, denying me the slightest hint that what I'd said so far had even reached her ear, I felt the sudden urge to grab and shake her, just to force her to react. I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth, drawing a deep, shaky breath. But I wouldn't succumb. Once more, I lifted my eyes to hers.
"I always thought that having you and losing you would be too much to take. But that's not true. I know now that nothing is as painful as closing my heart and not taking the chance of letting you be a part of me. Diane's ghost no longer has any hold on my fears, I swear. Please, tell me I'm not too late." My last words came out almost as a whisper as my emotions threatened to choke me. I was in complete agony, awaiting her sentence. I had let down my guard, utterly and completely. I felt her next words could easily kill me, but at the same time a strange kind of relief flowed through my veins. I had at least told her. Finally.
The first sign of reaction that I could detect in her was a slight tightening of her hand. Her glance softened ever so slightly. "Why now, Harm? Why did I have to leave to make you dare act on your feelings?" she asked, her voice not entirely even. "And how do you intend to convince me that this time, you won't draw back? How am I ever going to believe you again?"
"I can't offer any excuses, Mac," I answered, pained by her questions. "I can only offer you my heart and my word of honor that I will never again let you down. I learned my lesson, Mac. I learned it the painful way, believe me. And I know now that in my life, I want nothing more than to love you if I'm allowed to. I'm aware that asking you to trust me now must seem ridiculous but, please, Mac, just this once, give me one ultimate chance to prove that I'm worthy of it. Please," I pleaded with everything that was in me.
"Even if I wanted to, I..." she swallowed. My heart sank. Too late. I had known it all along, but the reality still cut too deep. I let go of her fingers, looked down in confused pain and wiped my face, not knowing what to do with my hands.
"I have always loved you, Harm," I then heard her go on in a low voice. "I couldn't un-love you now, even if I wanted to." Unconsciously holding my breath, I forced myself to face her - and to my utmost bewilderment, I felt hope, even before the meaning of what she had just said sank in. I gaped at her.
"Kiss her, you fool!" someone shouted from the side. I looked around and became aware that the whole restaurant was silently staring in our direction. The spell was broken. Mac blushed deeply, a grin spreading over her face. I felt my mouth twitch as well, and finally we both burst out laughing.
Dad, I'm utterly incapable of telling you in words what I felt. My world had turned from deepest night to complete bliss in an instant. I don't think I'll ever be able to describe what went on inside myself. I only remember that I first embraced Mac tightly, lifting her up and whirling her around several times, both of us laughing out loud although we were aware that we had tears in our eyes. Then I carefully set her down and kissed her, tenderly and passionately at the same time. I tried to put the whole of my heart and soul into that single kiss, to make her see what I had tried to tell her before. My knees threatened to buckle when I felt her respond in kind.
Someone whooped very loud and the whole restaurant erupted into cheers, making us break up and hug tightly, embarrassedly hiding our faces, laughing. Eventually Mac pulled back and, sniffling, put her hand into the pocket of her coat. With a wonderful, radiant, teary smile that made my heart race she handed me the last missing stone of the arch.
"Promise me you won't burn the bridge this time," she begged softly.
"I swear I won't," I answered, taking it from her. "Will you help me build it? Teamwork?" I added.
"With all my heart."
Unable to wipe the goofy smile off my face, I offered her my hand. "How about going home, Marine?"
"Home is where you are," she answered simply, placing her hand in mine. Together we left the restaurant, sheepishly smiling at the corridor of applauding people that formed before us. I guess none of them will ever forget the sight of two high-ranking officers in full uniform, giving them their share of Hollywood that day, now will they?
We made it home to my place just before the blizzard got a firm hold of the capital. Once I got in, I turned up the heater and shut the windows tightly as the wind started to howl ever more. Only then did I dare to face Mac again. We had been very silent during the ride home. I didn't know what to say to her. Again, the intimate closeness of the car intimidated me, even more than it had down in Africa. So I limited myself to casting her a smile now and then to reassure her that I had meant what I'd told her.
Now she was standing in the doorway, shy, not really knowing what to do next.
"Can I take your coat?" I asked. I had to fight the urge to add '...and everything else you wear?'
Smiling, she let me have it. I gently pulled her away from the door. Then we again just stood in front of each other, connected only through the intense contact of our glances. I tried to tell myself that I was shivering from the cold but whom did I want to fool, Dad? I was scared of this... "thing" - but at the same time overwhelmed to have her with me, for once in mutual awareness of how we were feeling about each other.
Mac lifted her hand and gently caressed my cheek, sending more shivers down my spine. That woman can cause me goose bumps only by looking at me. I closed my eyes, lost in her touch.
"I was hurting before," she whispered, "But seeing you cry made it so much worse."
"How did you find me?" I asked just as low, keeping my eyes closed to savor her caresses.
"I was planning on getting myself a cup of coffee to decide what to do, now that my flight had been canceled." Her voice was getting lower and lower. Eyes still shut, I stepped closer to understand what she was saying until I could feel her body against mine and her breath near my ear. Encircling her softly in my arms, I listened as she went on. "The moment I saw the figure at the back of the restaurant, I knew it was you. And I knew you were crying. You can't imagine how that sight shook me inside."
"And you can't imagine how that guarded look of yours was torturing me," I whispered, burying my nose in her hair that faintly smelled like apples. "I could have taken your wrath, but not this... this... nothing."
"I was too scared to take the mask off," she confessed, making me hurt once again at the thought that my Marine had been afraid of me.
"I'm so sorry," I murmured, "So sorry."
"Just don't draw back this time, okay? I'm defenseless."
She had tried to say it lightly but I heard the slight shaking in her voice. "I won't. I swear, Mac, I won't. Please, believe me," I repeated, desperately trying to reassure her. Relief swept all over me when I felt her relax against me.
"You know I still have to go to Europe, right?" Her voice was very low and full of regrets. "I received my orders yesterday."
"I know. But you can come back in August and we'll see each other as much as we can, I promise."
Her voice bore traces of her smile. "Yeah.... and we don't even have to keep it quiet. We're not fraternizing now and we'll work something out before I come back."
My heart leapt at hearing her paint her picture. "I love you so much..." I only whispered, stroking her head and her back. Dad, I so badly want her to see that I'm sticking to my promise. Do you think she'll ever trust me again in full?
Well, maybe I already got my answer to that one. At least I guess I did. Mac pulled back a little and shyly brought her lips to mine. Electricity flowed on contact. How does she do that? It's scary but I fear I'm already addicted to the thrill. As our kiss grew in intensity, I had to tell myself repeatedly to power down. I had no right to claim anything from her. I could only accept what she was willing to offer.
I wouldn't have dreamed, though, just how much that was.
I started when, with a swift brush of her hands, she shoved my uniform jacket off my shoulders, never breaking the kiss. Only when I felt her remove my tie and open my shirt, did I dare to busy myself with the buttons on her green uniform. I proceeded slowly and shyly although I was burning with desire but, as I said, it was for her to set the pace. I wanted her to know that sex was of minor importance to me right then.
I don't know, though, if she had the time to realize that.
Again I can't wipe that smile off my face. I had always imagined Sarah Mackenzie to be a passionate woman. But the way she seduced me nearly knocked me out of my shoes.
I guess I see you smirk at me.
But let's leave the jokes aside for a moment. Dad, I'm not sure if you understand what I mean, but making love to Sarah was like a spiritual journey to the very essence of love itself. When I held her in my arms, being as close to her as I could possibly get, the world around me just seemed to fade away. It was just her and me, our hearts beating in unison. It was unlike anything I ever experienced.
Right now Sarah's peacefully asleep, cuddled tightly into the blanket. Before I left the bedroom to write to you, I stood in the doorway for several minutes and watched her sleeping. She looks like an angel. Dad, I know I don't deserve her but I promise that, in time, I'll make it up to her and prove myself worthy of her. You believe me, don't you?
I just heard something and looked up to see light shine through the glass brick wall that separates my bedroom from the living room. I'll get back to you later. Bye!
0627 local
Dear Lt. Rabb,
Okay: Dear Dad. Please, don't blame me, Harm told me to address you like that. He's looking over my shoulder as I write so I can't do anything but comply.
From what Harm told me about his letters to you, I guess you already have an idea about who I am. Anyway, to keep up the customs of society, let me present myself: my name is Sarah Mackenzie. I'm a lieutenant colonel in the Marine Corps, Chief of Staff at JAG Headquarters and Harm's working partner of several years. And - I hope you won't mind, sir... sorry, I have to take back the 'sir' because your son won't allow that I use it with you, he's headstrong, you know - anyway, what I wanted to add was that I am the woman who right now has on her left hand the ring that you once gave to your wife. I do hope you consent to your son's choice.
Are you curious to know how Harm managed to pop the question? Actually, he did it in a very sweet way. I'm sure he told you about the experiment with the arch and that I gave him the single brick stones to tell him whenever he was on the right way to rebuild the bridge that he had burnt? I didn't give him the final piece until last night at the airport. I had intended to take it with me to Europe, sad souvenir of what might have been, sort of, but heaven sent a blizzard and your son convinced me to stay.
When I woke, a couple of hours ago, he interrupted his letter to you and came back to the bedroom with an atlas and the little brick stones, including the last one. As we didn't have a folding table, we laid out the arch on the right-hand page of the map in the middle of the book (Russia, actually). Then we slowly lifted the back of the atlas until the arch stood and then put the map down again. The arch held.
This is about teamwork, you know: I steadied the ground while he balanced the stones. Alone, neither of us could have done it. This may seem a little sentimental but isn't this a beautiful sign of belonging together?
All right, I'm starting to babble, but you must forgive me: I'm still kind of overwhelmed by what followed our construction work. With one of those dazzling smiles I'm sure he inherited from you, Harm put his hand in the pocket of his bathrobe. "I think I may have the right monument to place on top of our bridge to eternity," he said and I suddenly felt my breath catch in my throat.
Harm carefully placed a little object on the topmost stone. When I saw the dusty little black velvet box I looked at him, unable to utter a syllable. I mean, you have to understand that, just about ten hours prior, I had been ready and willing to leave my shattered hopes behind for forever, to finally move on with my life. And now...
Harm looked at me with that funny expression of his, you know, this look that is half the cocky pilot and half the frightened little boy that is begging his mother not to take his favorite toy away from him.
You must excuse that nasty blotch of ink but your son just slapped me on the arm for what I said about his glance. Don't worry, he got an elbow to his chest in return for assaulting a woman. I'm a Marine, after all... Anyway, back to our bridge: here's what happened.
"Take it, Sarah," Harm said simply, softly, "And with it my heart and my life."
Careful not to destroy the arch, I removed the little box from the top. That wasn't too easy, by the way, because my hand was shaking madly. But I managed to retrieve it.
The ring is stunning. You have an exquisite taste, Dad. (Still feels strange calling you that... I'll get accustomed to it, I promise.) And it fits perfectly. I can't take my eyes off it. It's so beautiful in its simplicity. White-gold band, single diamond. I wouldn't have wanted anything else.
I feel immensely honored to be offered to wear it, knowing what it must mean to your wife. Harm told me that she gave it to him years ago, for Diane. Thinking that - from what he tells me - since that time he never took it out or even considered giving it to anyone, makes me prouder still. I promise to prove myself worthy of it.
Thank you for your wonderful son. I give you my word of honor that I will always love him. And that I'll make him happy if I can.
Love, Sarah
THE END
[Excerpts from Harm's diary]
Jan. 14th Bobo Dioulasso, Burkina Faso
Dad,
I think I've never done such a crazy mission. I mean, I've done very crazy missions, being in mortal danger all the time, doing illegal things, disobeying orders... don't tell the admiral - black on white like this, my confession doesn't look nice. Whatever. What I was trying to get at was that I've done all kinds of crazy stuff in the line of duty but this mission is unlike anything I've ever done.
We're driving across Africa. We're tracking cars. And we're doing nothing at all.
Believe me, Dad, during the last four days literally nothing has happened that would have been worth writing. Mac and I covered about 3000 km, are currently ranked 78th and are enjoying our vacation, sort of. Ever after leaving Agades, Mac and I have been happy to be together and we didn't need anything else. She drives, I navigate, we halfheartedly observe Dunfoss who even managed to win yesterday's stage, we talk a little, we tease each other...
I can clearly tell that all this is driving Clay nuts. More than once I saw him with his sat phone, gesticulating agitatedly, apparently trying to make someone back in D.C. understand that our little joyride is a big screw-up.
Okay, I wasn't quite sincere when I said that nothing worth relating happened since I last wrote to you. Today's stage was just plain crazy, but first I'll quickly tell you where we are and how we got here - besides driving in a Ford Focus.
The day after our wonderful break at Agades, we went south to Zinder and crossed the invisible border into black Africa. Rudimentary English replaced rudimentary French as official language and we left the Sahara dunes behind us once and for all. We had reached the Sahel zone, rolling across wide plains of so-called camel grass and we got to see the first trees that aren't palms and don't need an oasis to grow. The soil is amazingly red around here. Bensen explained to us that this is due to iron compounds washed out and rusting along in the earth. These laterite routes are a little tricky to follow as the last rainy season, short as it was, damaged them quite a bit and no one here has the money for any basic repairs. But at least we won't have to dig anymore.
The next day, proceeding from Zinder - Niger's ex-capital - to Niamey - Niger's actual capital - was the longest stage of all. We covered almost a thousand kilometers, mostly on rather soft ground with deep sandy ruts. It was a typical transition stage, only 252 km of special track. Having departed at 0450 in the morning, we were pretty much done for when, some time after 1900, we finally arrived. I think I never suffered as severe a case of highway hypnosis as I did that day.
Yesterday we left Niger and entered Burkina Faso, former Upper Volta, and reached its capital Ouagadougou. The vegetation keeps getting thicker and greener. We're in the middle of the savannah regions now and we even got to see a few zebras and gnus. As I told you - we're on holiday here. Although we were bound to hurry as Dunfoss made another attempt at winning a stage and finally succeeded, at one point Mac and I were so merry that we actually stopped, got out and took a few safari photos with some nearby zebras. We were laughing to no end.
And today, well... what can I say? I'm feeling like I could embrace the whole world. Yeah, I knew you'd have guessed it: Mac gave me the last brick stone but one. But you know why? This, you'll never guess. Dad, we WON THE STAGE. Yes, shut your mouth, we did. I still don't know how but here's the trophy, standing right beside my backpack. So I guess we really did win.
The irony of it all is that I accidentally caused our victory. In other words, I made yet another navigation mistake. Today's stage from Ouagadougou to Bobo Dioulasso - a nice city, actually, with broad avenues, a moderate climate, an all-African flair and an "overpopulation" of bicycles - was quite easy compared with what we had to go through during the last two weeks. Or maybe it was just the routine that made our task seem easy but, be it as it may, to both of us, for the better part of the distance, today's stage seemed like a walk in the park. We went across rainforest-like savannahs with luxurious green vegetation and there was next to nothing left to do on the navigating part. Occasionally we had to avoid a few villages and we had to look out for road damage.
What made today's race interesting was the weather. After about 500 km, we came to know a real tropical convection rainstorm and we were literally washed off the road and landed in the roadside ditch. When we'd finally freed ourselves with the help of our trusty winch (Dad, Mac looks dead hot when she's soaking wet!), I noticed that our GPS was malfunctioning. We still got fairly reasonable readouts about Dunfoss' position (not that anyone cared about him anyway), but our own position seemed to be lost to the sensors. Now try to navigate through the thickets of a rainforest without any hints which track goes in which direction whenever you reach a fork in the road. True, I still had the compass but before long we were lost. This was what saved us the bad luck that many teams were facing today.
The course we were following led us in a wide curve all around a lower area. The main road should have gone right through it but as it appears, it was blocked by water that had left the nearby river-bed because of the heavy rain. None of the competing teams had passed that point by that time and once the first cars arrived, they were stuck because the water had by then made it impossible to re-ascend to the region where the road Mac and I were following had separated from the main track. Apparently we hadn't been the only ones to make use of the winch today so many teams were behind schedule. As it happened, Mac and I got to be the first ones to use the alternative route. Accidentally, yes, but still...
Mac and I were completely oblivious to what was happening as we were only trying to get our car safely through the rainstorm. When the weather eventually cleared and we finally reached bivouac, the first thing that we became aware of was the herd of reporters who were closing in on us. I could see that Mac was just as startled as I was. Warily eyeing everything and everyone, we got out of the car.
"What the..." Mac didn't get any further.
The TV stickboy from the other day yanked his microphone between us. "Congratulations!" he shouted. "Deb, tell us: how are you feeling?"
The glance that Mac cast me clearly included a plea for help. I stepped up to her as she answered: "Wet. Why?"
"You just won today's stage!" the stickboy went on over-cheerily.
Mac and I stared at each other, open-mouthed. Then I turned to the reporter. "Excuse me, we did... what?"
The TV guy's eyes went wide and his grin exuberant. He turned back to the other journalists, shouting: "They don't even know!!" Turning back, he pounded me on the back, making me cough. "You're today's winners, guys! You beat them all!"
"You've got to be kidding..." Aghast, I looked back at Mac, only to find her smirking.
"Your honor..." she completed under her breath, reminding me of my not too professional first appearance in front of her bench. As I saw her rise her hand, I couldn't help ginning myself. I gave her five and embraced her.
"Well done, your honor," I whispered as I squeezed her tightly to me.
"Thanks, counselor," she replied just as low, returning my squeeze.
What followed then, somehow happened in slow motion. Mac and I answered a few more questions which took up a considerable amount of time as each journalist or TV team wanted some exclusive direct quotes. Then Bensen joined us, all giddy, and dragged us over to some little podium while all the cameras and photographers filed up in front. An official-looking man in a gray suit, representing the rally organization, took a microphone. Meanwhile, quite a few fellow drivers had arrived and were cheering us. Amazingly fast, a remarkable crowd of spectators had assembled, too. The noise they made was incredible. I was like in a daze and I could tell that Mac must have felt very similar.
"Winners of today's stage from Ouagadougou to Bobo Dioulasso: from the United States of America, representing Team Ford - Deborah Kellerman and her navigator, Douglas Vandenberg!"
Someone pushed me in front and I dizzily followed Mac, climbing onto the little wooden square. The flashes illuminating the dusk were blinding me.
We both received a little trophy and a hearty handshake. Switching on my grin, I put my arm around Mac's shoulders and we posed a little for the cameras. Dad, this was great! I mean, look at it this way: you save the Russian President's life and no one knows you had a hand in it. You drive a few hours on some deserted dirt road with the person you love best in this world - and everyone is cheering you like you just saved the Russian President's life!
When I heard a loud 'plop' near my left ear I jumped and turned around, just in time to have a fountain of a sparkling, slightly sticky something splash in my face. For a split second I gasped, casting an anxious glance in Mac's direction, but a knowing wink from her immediately reassured me. I managed to take a quick look at the label on the oversized champagne bottle and relaxed: sparkling cider. Bensen, who was thoroughly showering us, whooping loudly, obviously knew about her alcoholism. It was then that I realized something else: he had apparently calculated the possibility of Mac winning a stage! Why else should he have brought such a special non- alcoholic champagne shower all the way? I don't think the organizers kept one just in case one of their winners were an alcoholic, do you, Dad?
Somehow, this was the final push that I needed to give in to the general folly. Bensen had known all along that Mac would do fabulously. My Mac! She made it! The hottest gung-ho semper-fi jarhead-lawyer rally queen of all times! Laughing loudly, I grabbed the bottle myself and gave Mac a shower to remember. She squealed, laughing, tackled me from the side and managed to get rid of the corpus delicti, delightedly taking revenge. A moment later, Silvio Giannetti, an Italian driver who had surprisingly arrived second, grabbed the bottle from her and aimed again at both of us until the pressure in the bottle was too low to continue.
A moment later, Mac turned to me with one of the most radiant smiles that I'd ever gotten from her, and I just lost it. Cameras or not, I swept her up in my arms and kissed her passionately, feeling her respond after a second of shock. The public cheered even louder and quite a few catcalls were heard. When we broke the contact, more than just a little self- conscious, we noticed the happy expressions on all the journalists' faces. Everyone's favorite heroes, the wild lawyers from D.C., surprise winners of the day and obviously in love - what a sensational, heart-warming story!
Once we were released from public attention, Mac very quickly excused herself, granting me another quick kiss and claiming that she absolutely craved a shower. I guess she was more likely longing for a little space to digest her happiness, just as I was, but I didn't comment. When I got back to our tent after having finally showered myself, she was already sleeping peacefully and I didn't feel the necessity to wake her. When I settled down, though, I found yet another little pack on my sleeping bag. With an all-encompassing smile, I set the little brick stone aside and read her accompanying note:
Harm,
Thank you for four days of perfect vacation. I guess honeymooning with you should be fun.
Today's victory is yet another teamwork hallmark moment. Who'd have guessed we'd get that good at it? Anyway, I'm glad we did.
Love, Mac
Imagine my actual state of mind, Dad. I'll say no more.
Harm
Jan. 15th UN peace forces camp Monrovia, Liberia
Dad.
You're familiar with Murphy's Law, aren't you? The worst that can happen will happen. Once again, Murphy was right.
Today, I was granted the chance to experience what the worst-case scenario could be like. My greatest fears all but came true. For a few excruciating moments, I thought I'd lost everything good in my life. That was just what I had always, always dreaded most, remember? I'm still shutting all my emotions out because the numbness somehow makes it easier to endure. I'd go insane if I let it affect me in any way right now. I guess, I'll just tell you what happened and then you can judge for yourself if my behavior is acceptable or not.
As you can deduce from the location I mentioned, our vacation is over. Mission completed. Successfully, I should add, but somehow I don't care about that at all. You just don't celebrate when your team partner nearly gets killed.
Actually, the day started just like all other racing days before. We were to enter Mali and finish the stage at its capital, Bamako. Instead, Mac and I were stranded somewhere in Côte d'Ivoire and were eventually med-evac'ed to Liberia. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Back to the beginning: I should start by telling you about something that Mac and I noticed before the start, something that we didn't really take to be important.
Walking over to our car, we passed the Turkish team that we'd met the other day at the Agades teahouse. Celebi and Kir greeted us just as good- naturedly as we'd known them. Kir was holding a white case with a red cross on top, apparently intending to put it into their car's trunk.
"Hey, you okay?" I asked, just a little curious.
Celebi acknowledged with a smiling nod.
"What do you need such a big medical case for?" Mac asked, just to make a little conversation.
"I'm a diabetic," Celebi answered calmly. "I have to take my syringes wid' me. And for 'dat I need a case as big as 'dis because 'dey need to be packed safely. I can't risk breaking them."
"Oh, I see. We'll cross our fingers that all goes well." Mac and I weren't really paying attention as we were due to depart in less than ten minutes.
"'Tanks," Celebi answered with one last friendly wave. "How about getting toge'der for a cup of coffee after 'de stage?" he added.
I turned back. "That'd be nice. We'll see you there!"
Ten minutes later, Mac and I were on the road again, rolling through the tropical forest like the day before, enjoying our mutual happiness without speaking.
For about 400 km, nothing happened. Gunny and Clay were observing Dunfoss and Mac and I were just going on yet another safari, conversing easily.
"... so you say having Jingo sniff at the oregano wasn't a good idea?" Mac asked me, laughing a little incredulously.
"No, I didn't say that," I replied. "It worked and you proved that the man was telling the truth. But what if it hadn't worked, Mac? What if he'd indicated the real narcotics?"
"But he didn't," she shot back with a gloat.
"No, he didn't," I conceded, "But don't you think it's a bit of a risk, basing a defense on an experiment in which you rely on the nose of an old dog failing his job?"
"Sure, it was risky but..."
"Stop!!!" I suddenly shouted as we turned around a corner and nearly skidded into three cars that were caught in a heavy collision. I got out for a moment and asked if everyone was all right. Apparently, no one was seriously hurt.
I saw Celebi applying a bandage to Kir's arm. "You sure you don't need help?" I offered.
"No," Celebi's smile was as easy as ever, tinged with a slight note of compassion for his hurting friend. "'Dis is nasty, but we've seen worse, haven't we, Taifun?"
Kir nodded a grinning consent. Wishing him a quick recovery, I climbed back into the car and we headed on, both of us thoughtful for some reason we couldn't quite identify.
Suddenly Mac gasped and stepped on the brakes. I gave her a startled look.
"The medical case!" she blurted out, eyes wide.
Instantly, the scales fell from my eyes. "The one they used was small! That means the one in the trunk..."
"...contains something else," she once again finished my sentence, frantic. "Something that mustn't break at any cost!" Fiercely yanking the wheel around, Mac made a u-turn and, with screeching tires, headed back.
Swearing loudly, I reached for the secure comm-link. How could we have been so stupid not to get suspicious at all? We'd both been completely fooled by Celebi's open and easy friendliness. Great.
"Carl, do you copy?" I yelled into the mike.
A second later, static was heard and then Clay's voice made its way over the line. "I do, Doug. What's the matter? Over."
"Change of target!" I panted. "It's Celebi. Deb and I are in his tracks. Over!"
"Wait. You're telling me we were behind the wrong team? Look, that's impossible, they clearly told me..."
Impatient, I interrupted him, not caring anymore if anyone could hear us or not. "Dammit, Clay, trust me with this! Mac and I are following him, get us reinforcements, ASAP! We have to rely on seeing him, we don't have his GPS readouts!"
"Harm, be reasonable, we..."
"Damn, Clay, JUST DO IT!!" I shut off the comm-link in exasperation.
Meanwhile, Mac had spotted Celebi and Kir just as they were leaving the main road and turning into another, narrower one that led south. We immediately followed suit.
It took the Turkish only about a minute to guess that they were being followed. Celebi stepped on the accelerator with all his might and initially managed to create a little additional space between his car and ours, but he had clearly underestimated Mac. Fuming, she took up the chase, reminding me of a predator that mercilessly went after its prey.
We were following a road alongside the Bani river, trying our best not to slip off the wet track and end up in the ditch. We gained yard after yard, closing in on them. Eventually we passed a signpost that told us that we'd just entered the Republic of Côte d'Ivoire but the soldier at the customs post didn't even have the time to get up before we whooshed past him at full speed.
Just before entering the town of Odienné, we had finally closed the distance. Starting to overtake them at their port side and then willfully slamming our car into theirs, Mac managed to push them into the ditch. We got out immediately, disposed of our helmets and occupied ourselves with the two men.
I reached Kir as he tried to get hold of a gun that he'd apparently kept under his seat. Throwing myself at him, I smashed him against the open car door and, getting a heavy blow on my ribcage as he tried to defend himself, I managed to take him out with a precisely aimed right hook.
When I looked around for Mac my heart stopped beating. I saw her toppling down the bank, hitting her head hard on a rock. Unconscious, she rolled on until I saw her motionless form fall into the river and start to slowly float away.
Inside my soul, rage welled up, a rage so fierce and powerful and deadly as I didn't even know I was capable of feeling. With an earth-shattering "NO!!" I attacked Celebi from behind, beating him unconscious before he even had the time to react. Then I half ran, half rolled down the bank, flung myself into the startlingly cold water and swam on, driven by the force of sheer despair.
When I had reached her limp body after what seemed to me an endless amount of time, I needed yet another three minutes to get her back to the shore and drag her onto firm ground. Mac was frighteningly pale. Blood was trickling from the gash on her head. She wasn't breathing and I felt no pulse at all.
Dad, it was the scene from the Watertown all over again. She was dead in my arms. Like back then, the panic threatened to overwhelm me - only a hundred times worse. I had opened my heart to her. I had let her in, had allowed myself to love her. Now, as I was desperately resuscitating her, tears streaming down my face, I was hit full force by the consequences of that one mistake that I'd once sworn I'd never make. It was just as I'd foreseen: it was too much to take. Eventually, though, I managed to close my heart against the pain as I was frantically going on: one-two-three-four- five, breathe, wait, breathe, search for pressure point, one-two-three-four- five, breathe, wait, breathe, search for pressure point, one-two-three-four- five...
What seemed like ages later, I heard a helicopter and saw that Clay had managed to contact the nearest UN peace forces in Liberia. On board the med- evac, they had a defibrillator and finally managed to bring Mac back to life while the troops on the ground took Celebi and Kir into custody and secured the cars.
We went directly to the largest hospital in Monrovia where Mac was put under observation. Three hours later, Clay and Gunny joined me, worried to no end, but confirming that we'd been right.
Celebi had had the grenades safely stored in his fake medical case that was secured in the trunk in a highly inventive way so as to dampen the blows. Being questioned, he turned out to be an Islamic extremist who was obsessed by the idea of establishing a permanent Al Qaeda cell at Erhac, right under the nose of the NATO forces, so to say. He had managed to get into contact with the terror network but apparently they had so far only shown interest in the weapons that he might be able to procure them from Erhac base.
So, when he had learned of the existence of the Anthrax grenades, Celebi had offered Al Qaeda a deal: he would safely get them to an inconspicuous port like Monrovia, knowing that he would be doing the rally anyway, and in exchange, the organization would support him in erecting a terrorist training camp in Turkey. He hadn't had the slightest idea that we were looking for the grenades. When he understood who we really were, Clay told me that he could clearly see that Celebi was mentally beating himself up for telling us where he was from.
When I asked how the Turkish team had managed to let their cargo go unnoticed for such a long time, Clay gave me a wry smile. "He didn't carry the grenades in the car before today. They were in his camper. He told me he slept on them every night."
No wonder we hadn't seen a thing. And he'd come so close to getting away with them.
I was sitting at Mac's bedside when she finally woke from the sleep she'd so much needed after today's ordeal. I looked up when I felt her hand move in mine.
"Hey sailor," she said in a low voice, smiling.
I forced myself to return the smile. "Hey..."
"Where are we?"
"Monrovia."
"And the grenades?"
"All taken care of," I reassured her. "They even managed to arrest the Al Qaeda contacts."
She sobered a little. "I guess I owe you one, don't I?"
"Yeah." I didn't trust my voice to any more words as I recalled today's events.
I watched her gaze turn wary. "Harm, it's over. I'm alright."
"Yeah."
The wariness turned to dread. Her voice started to quiver ever so slightly as she went on, trying to keep the tone light. "Why don't you come here and take me in your arms for a few moments, my hero?"
I looked away, swallowing. Then I turned my head back and forced myself to make eye-contact. "You need some more sleep, Mac," I answered, trying to sound as gentle as possible, as I softly placed her hand on her stomach and let go of it.
"Harm..." The word came out very low, together with a sob.
I got up a little too quickly. "I'm sorry, Mac," I whispered, squeezing my eyes shut against the burning tears, "I can't." Turning around, I headed for the door when her calm, incredibly sad voice made me stop.
"I know." She took a deep, shaky breath. "You do care, just not enough," she added in a resigned whisper.
My back still turned towards her, I gulped heavily. "That's not true." I had to press the words out one by one. "I can't be with you because I care too much."
She didn't respond immediately but as I reached for the door handle, she spoke up once more. "Harm?"
"Yeah?" I couldn't turn around.
"Please, don't stay with me. Go back to D.C. with the others." There was no reproach in her voice.
I tried to object. "But."
"Please, Harm," she gently cut me off, "I'm gonna be alright."
I finally managed to turn around and face her, only to encounter that strange expression in her eyes once again, full of bottomless sadness and deepest understanding at the same time.
"Okay," I whispered, defeated. Then I grabbed for the door handle and fled.
Some time later when I had reached my quarters at the UN camp, a knock at the door startled me out of my numbness. When I opened I found myself eye to eye with Andrew Bensen who was shaking with suppressed anger.
"Bensen? What..."
I didn't get any further. Without uttering a syllable, he hit me in the jaw with a right hook that made me see stars. Gasping, I tried to address him about his behavior, but he just wordlessly turned on his heel and left.
While I was still leaning against the doorframe, trying to get my surroundings into focus again, Clay walked by, stopped and stepped up to me.
"Bensen hit me," I explained, the pain evident in my voice.
Clay just glanced at me, cold and hostile. "I know," he replied calmly, "He won the coin toss."
With that, he left me alone.
Dad, why don't they understand? Clay has been there already, he should know what this is about! Don't you think I have the right to protect myself just as much as everyone else? And I'll still always be there for Mac, she can't doubt that! She's got to know I'd never let her down! But I mustn't let my guard down, either. Never. I couldn't handle losing her. And today has once again shown me just how easily that could happen. Please, tell me I'm right, please, Dad! Tell me that there's one person out there who understands me!
Harm
Jan, 26th Washington, D.C.
Dad,
Things have gotten worse between Mac and me since we've returned from Africa. They kept Mac under observation at the hospital for another five days, just to make sure the lack of oxygen didn't cause any permanent damage. Then she flew back and was immediately cleared for duty as long as it didn't include physical strain. Three days ago, she returned to JAG.
We hardly talk at all. If we do, it never goes beyond anything work- related. I haven't seen her smile once. She avoids me. I know I hurt her badly but why can't she see that we're all better off if we just keep going on as best friends?
When I thought she had drowned in that river back in Côte d'Ivoire, I thought I'd explode from the pain I felt inside. I couldn't take it. It was Diane all over again, only a hundred times worse. That's why I drew back. Because I care too much, just as I told her. But I'm not sure she understands.
How can I make her understand?
Wish you were here, Dad. Harm
Jan, 28th
Dear Dad,
Once again, it's 0200 and I'm sitting at my dining room table, writing to you. I must admit, these 'conversations' between you and me have become a habit, and I'm actually looking forward to them more and more each day, especially on a day like today.
I had a roller-coaster ride of feelings today that was worse than anything that I've told you of during the last weeks. I know that sounds crazy, I'm laughing at myself incredulously saying it. All I need to do is turn back a few pages and read what I wrote to you - my confusion always sounded like it couldn't get worse, didn't it? Funny thing is: I was convinced of what I wrote.
Right now, I don't know how this letter will end because all I feel inside is just one big hurricane. I'm utterly and completely unable to get the slightest order into my line of thinking. Too much happened today. I'm still processing all the emotions I went through and I sincerely hope writing to you will help - normally it does. Okay, I'll start at the beginning.
Today was Friday, and to begin with, things weren't any better between Mac and myself this morning. We exchanged exactly four words at work today, adding up all that we both said. "Good morning, Colonel," I tried, and she just said "Commander..." without even looking up. Then she had a hearing and when she got back I had a difficult interview to conduct.
I was done around 1700 and hoped to at least wish her a pleasant weekend. When I looked up, her office was already dark but the real trouble started when I walked over to Harriet to ask her at what time Mac had left for today.
Harriet looked at me as if she'd seen a ghost. "Sir, you know that her flight leaves at 1805 from Dulles."
Flight? What flight? Mac hadn't hinted with one single word that she had to go out of town. Completely clueless I asked Harriet where Mac was going and her eyes got even wider if that's possible.
"Don't tell me you don't know..." she trailed off, aghast, horror showing in her eyes.
Suddenly I felt my stomach going wild. Something was wrong, very wrong. I remember that my first attempt at speaking failed miserably. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "What is it that I should know, Harriet?"
She blanched. Dad, I rarely saw Harriet that terrorized. Of course, my suspicions rose to no limits in no time. "What, Harriet?" I urged her to go on.
"She's... she's transferring..." Harriet almost whispered. "She told me that you knew and approved of it and that it wasn't to be talked about by the admiral's order. We even had a little goodbye drink last night, all of us. We were astonished not to see you, sir, but the colonel said that you had an important appointment and lately, you were very busy catching up on your cases and the two of you were just so... after the rally... so I thought... we..."
The world was beginning to spin in front of my eyes. I think I must have swayed on my feet for the next thing I remember is being sat down by Harriet on her own chair. "Where?" was the only thing I got out of my throat although I feared I already knew. The admiral had been especially cold to me of late.
"Brussels, NATO headquarters," she confirmed the catastrophe.
The whirlwind that was my mind rose to a full-blown gale. Dad, she transferred to Europe without even letting me know! Rage, despair and loss fought a battle inside my chest. I don't know what you felt when you realized you had lost us but I guess what I felt at that moment came close. I didn't know what to do with my hands, they wouldn't obey me anymore. I had a million questions on my mind but all were shaded by only one to which I feared I knew the answer. 'Why? For God's sake, why?' I was aware that whoever was still at the office had stopped working and was looking over but I didn't care. Funny how those details lose all of their importance in the blink of an eye, isn't it?
"Why didn't anybody tell me?" I only croaked out, more to myself than to her. Just how much did I hurt her that my actions had the power to destroy everything that had ever been between us? Just how cruel must I have been to the one woman I ever truly loved in my life, Dad? Yes, I love her more than I ever loved Diane. I have known for a long time but at that moment the realization was once again crystal clear in my mind. How could I ever ignore my feelings? I'm completely at a loss.
Harriet placed a shaking hand on my arm. "We thought you knew," she whispered, "And Admiral Chegwidden and the colonel herself were so serious about keeping it quiet."
I looked up but didn't really see her. My vision was suddenly blurred. In afterthought I guess this was the first time Harriet Sims-Roberts ever saw me in tears. Only now do I remember how she sucked in her breath and stared at me. Back then, I could only think of one thing: Dulles. Without another word, I jumped to my feet, grabbed my coat and cover and literally ran out of the office.
I have no idea how I survived D.C. rush hour traffic. Or how I even found the right road to Dulles, for that matter. The only thing I remember is constantly praying: 'God, don't let it be too late. Don't let it be too late!' Somehow I made it to the airport. When I parked my car my watch read 1753. I dashed through the swing doors, sped along the never-ending corridors, not taking care of who got in my way. There was only one flight leaving for Brussels at 1805.
When I finally arrived at the gate I thought my chest would explode. I was panting and coughing but I didn't really pay attention to that, I think. Boarding had just begun and there she was, quietly standing in line, still in her uniform. Even though I could only see her back, her attitude told me exactly how she felt. She was a woman who naturally wore her pride, who didn't waver and went on with her life. And yet, an aura of sadness, defeat and resignation radiated from her. I think no one else but me was able to detect it but I damned sure did. Clearly. Because I had caused it.
"Mac!" I yelled from the barrier, not caring about the many people that looked in astonishment at the naval commander in full uniform who didn't seem to care one bit about conduct unbecoming an officer. "Mac!"
I saw her tense. She was just about to have her carryon checked. Slowly she turned and looked at me, her eyes mirroring her shock that I had found out and at the same time overflowing once again with that silent, bottomless sadness that was devoid of any reproach.
"Mac, don't go, please!" I yelled, desperate. She only looked at me for two or three endless seconds. Then I saw her quietly mouth "Be safe, Harm." and she turned and walked away in the direction of the gangway, never looking back.
Dad, I have no idea what happened in the following minutes. I stood like I was petrified. I didn't feel anything, didn't see anything, didn't hear anything. Everything just went numb. The noises fused into one monotonous humming. Mac, my Sarah, had decided against me. Eventually one thing made its way to my conscious, though. The loudspeaker cracked and announced: "Departure United 2938 to Brussels." That was when my world finally shattered.
I have lived through many painful situations, Dad. Like when I found out how you died, for example. Or Diane's death, of course. Or when I thought I would die myself, out at sea, and never be able to see Mac again. But, I swear, nothing ever came close to what I went through just about eight hours ago. The pain choked me, drowned me, crushed me, everything at the same time. I had lost all that I had been living for, even though I hadn't realized it that clearly until right then. This time, her goodbyes were definite. I could read it in her eyes. I had depended on my credit once too often. There's only so much Sarah's heart can take.
I somehow made my way to the nearest bistro area, got myself an alibi cup of tea and slumped down on a seat far at the back. Facing the wall, I rested my face in my hands and wept.
I don't know how long I sat there, silently crying my eyes out. I think, for any bystanders who only saw me from behind it must have looked as if I were sleeping, just another exhausted traveler stealing a few minutes of rest before going after his business again. Anyway, people left me alone, and I was grateful for it.
I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up and thought I must be losing my senses. Mac was quietly standing at my side, looking at me with a neutral expression, silently offering me a handkerchief. I guess I stared as if she were an alien. Normally, a reaction as this would have caused her to smile, but she just kept looking at me with those huge dark eyes of hers, her expression carefully masking whatever she might be feeling at that moment.
Understanding that I needed an explanation, she said. "Blizzard coming in. The flight was canceled when we were already taxiing to the runway. They're getting us hotel rooms until we can get out."
"But your apartment..." I whispered, not really understanding.
"Already let," she only said. "The guy wanted something furnished."
"Why, Mac?" I wasn't even sure if my words had been audible at all.
She placed the handkerchief in front of me on the table, never relieving me from that guarded, seemingly void look that hurt me to the bottom of my soul, more than any anger of hers ever could have.
"You know the reason," she stated. Strangely, there was no bitterness in her words. "I thought it would be better to leave quietly to avoid any more discussions."
I guess that was when it dawned on me that I had just been given one ultimate chance to speak. Dad, I don't think I was ever that scared and courageous in my life at the same time. I couldn't think of any other thing to do. I got up, quickly dried my eyes and took Mac's hands in mine. She didn't pull away, but still showed no sign of emotion, either. She just waited. Well, what could I have expected of her? To let her guard down in front of me? Dream on, Rabb. Nevertheless, I spoke. I had no chance but I vowed to myself I would die trying.
"Mac, I... please, you know... the thing is..." Damn. Get a grip, Hammer! Mac only looked at me, unmoving, unperturbed. Unfeeling?
I knew there was only one thing to say. I heard the words deep inside myself. I felt as if I had to push them up inch by inch to my tongue but I was determined not to back down. It had been too long since I'd ever said them to a woman. But I realized that they hadn't been buried along with her. I still had them in me and was suddenly all but dying to finally, finally get them out.
"I love you, Sarah," I said very low, desperately searching her eyes for any reaction at all. Nothing. 'Say something, anything,' I silently implored her. Anything would be better than this neutral silence. "I love you," I repeated, whispering, "And I finally understood that there is no possible way of ever caring too much. Forget what I told you at the hospital. I alone allowed that feeling to grow inside me and I never want to live without it again. Please, don't go away. Tell me whatever I must do to make you stay."
Still she didn't react. I felt fresh tears well up inside myself and willed them down, swallowing. I understood. I had to figure it out by myself. She was tired of having to take the lead.
"I need you in my life, Mac, more than anything else," I went on, forcing myself to continue speaking. "I told you we were a team, didn't I? I didn't behave like we were, I know. But I can't imagine my life without you and me being together. You complete me, Sarah. Without you, I am incapable of living up to my standards. It's you who makes me reach them. And it's the two of us, it's our team that opens to me the one street I want my life to take. I know it took me far too long to figure it out. And it took me longer still to draw the right conclusions. But here I am, willing to let go completely and give up everything just to have you."
When I still saw her standing motionless, denying me the slightest hint that what I'd said so far had even reached her ear, I felt the sudden urge to grab and shake her, just to force her to react. I squeezed my eyes shut and gritted my teeth, drawing a deep, shaky breath. But I wouldn't succumb. Once more, I lifted my eyes to hers.
"I always thought that having you and losing you would be too much to take. But that's not true. I know now that nothing is as painful as closing my heart and not taking the chance of letting you be a part of me. Diane's ghost no longer has any hold on my fears, I swear. Please, tell me I'm not too late." My last words came out almost as a whisper as my emotions threatened to choke me. I was in complete agony, awaiting her sentence. I had let down my guard, utterly and completely. I felt her next words could easily kill me, but at the same time a strange kind of relief flowed through my veins. I had at least told her. Finally.
The first sign of reaction that I could detect in her was a slight tightening of her hand. Her glance softened ever so slightly. "Why now, Harm? Why did I have to leave to make you dare act on your feelings?" she asked, her voice not entirely even. "And how do you intend to convince me that this time, you won't draw back? How am I ever going to believe you again?"
"I can't offer any excuses, Mac," I answered, pained by her questions. "I can only offer you my heart and my word of honor that I will never again let you down. I learned my lesson, Mac. I learned it the painful way, believe me. And I know now that in my life, I want nothing more than to love you if I'm allowed to. I'm aware that asking you to trust me now must seem ridiculous but, please, Mac, just this once, give me one ultimate chance to prove that I'm worthy of it. Please," I pleaded with everything that was in me.
"Even if I wanted to, I..." she swallowed. My heart sank. Too late. I had known it all along, but the reality still cut too deep. I let go of her fingers, looked down in confused pain and wiped my face, not knowing what to do with my hands.
"I have always loved you, Harm," I then heard her go on in a low voice. "I couldn't un-love you now, even if I wanted to." Unconsciously holding my breath, I forced myself to face her - and to my utmost bewilderment, I felt hope, even before the meaning of what she had just said sank in. I gaped at her.
"Kiss her, you fool!" someone shouted from the side. I looked around and became aware that the whole restaurant was silently staring in our direction. The spell was broken. Mac blushed deeply, a grin spreading over her face. I felt my mouth twitch as well, and finally we both burst out laughing.
Dad, I'm utterly incapable of telling you in words what I felt. My world had turned from deepest night to complete bliss in an instant. I don't think I'll ever be able to describe what went on inside myself. I only remember that I first embraced Mac tightly, lifting her up and whirling her around several times, both of us laughing out loud although we were aware that we had tears in our eyes. Then I carefully set her down and kissed her, tenderly and passionately at the same time. I tried to put the whole of my heart and soul into that single kiss, to make her see what I had tried to tell her before. My knees threatened to buckle when I felt her respond in kind.
Someone whooped very loud and the whole restaurant erupted into cheers, making us break up and hug tightly, embarrassedly hiding our faces, laughing. Eventually Mac pulled back and, sniffling, put her hand into the pocket of her coat. With a wonderful, radiant, teary smile that made my heart race she handed me the last missing stone of the arch.
"Promise me you won't burn the bridge this time," she begged softly.
"I swear I won't," I answered, taking it from her. "Will you help me build it? Teamwork?" I added.
"With all my heart."
Unable to wipe the goofy smile off my face, I offered her my hand. "How about going home, Marine?"
"Home is where you are," she answered simply, placing her hand in mine. Together we left the restaurant, sheepishly smiling at the corridor of applauding people that formed before us. I guess none of them will ever forget the sight of two high-ranking officers in full uniform, giving them their share of Hollywood that day, now will they?
We made it home to my place just before the blizzard got a firm hold of the capital. Once I got in, I turned up the heater and shut the windows tightly as the wind started to howl ever more. Only then did I dare to face Mac again. We had been very silent during the ride home. I didn't know what to say to her. Again, the intimate closeness of the car intimidated me, even more than it had down in Africa. So I limited myself to casting her a smile now and then to reassure her that I had meant what I'd told her.
Now she was standing in the doorway, shy, not really knowing what to do next.
"Can I take your coat?" I asked. I had to fight the urge to add '...and everything else you wear?'
Smiling, she let me have it. I gently pulled her away from the door. Then we again just stood in front of each other, connected only through the intense contact of our glances. I tried to tell myself that I was shivering from the cold but whom did I want to fool, Dad? I was scared of this... "thing" - but at the same time overwhelmed to have her with me, for once in mutual awareness of how we were feeling about each other.
Mac lifted her hand and gently caressed my cheek, sending more shivers down my spine. That woman can cause me goose bumps only by looking at me. I closed my eyes, lost in her touch.
"I was hurting before," she whispered, "But seeing you cry made it so much worse."
"How did you find me?" I asked just as low, keeping my eyes closed to savor her caresses.
"I was planning on getting myself a cup of coffee to decide what to do, now that my flight had been canceled." Her voice was getting lower and lower. Eyes still shut, I stepped closer to understand what she was saying until I could feel her body against mine and her breath near my ear. Encircling her softly in my arms, I listened as she went on. "The moment I saw the figure at the back of the restaurant, I knew it was you. And I knew you were crying. You can't imagine how that sight shook me inside."
"And you can't imagine how that guarded look of yours was torturing me," I whispered, burying my nose in her hair that faintly smelled like apples. "I could have taken your wrath, but not this... this... nothing."
"I was too scared to take the mask off," she confessed, making me hurt once again at the thought that my Marine had been afraid of me.
"I'm so sorry," I murmured, "So sorry."
"Just don't draw back this time, okay? I'm defenseless."
She had tried to say it lightly but I heard the slight shaking in her voice. "I won't. I swear, Mac, I won't. Please, believe me," I repeated, desperately trying to reassure her. Relief swept all over me when I felt her relax against me.
"You know I still have to go to Europe, right?" Her voice was very low and full of regrets. "I received my orders yesterday."
"I know. But you can come back in August and we'll see each other as much as we can, I promise."
Her voice bore traces of her smile. "Yeah.... and we don't even have to keep it quiet. We're not fraternizing now and we'll work something out before I come back."
My heart leapt at hearing her paint her picture. "I love you so much..." I only whispered, stroking her head and her back. Dad, I so badly want her to see that I'm sticking to my promise. Do you think she'll ever trust me again in full?
Well, maybe I already got my answer to that one. At least I guess I did. Mac pulled back a little and shyly brought her lips to mine. Electricity flowed on contact. How does she do that? It's scary but I fear I'm already addicted to the thrill. As our kiss grew in intensity, I had to tell myself repeatedly to power down. I had no right to claim anything from her. I could only accept what she was willing to offer.
I wouldn't have dreamed, though, just how much that was.
I started when, with a swift brush of her hands, she shoved my uniform jacket off my shoulders, never breaking the kiss. Only when I felt her remove my tie and open my shirt, did I dare to busy myself with the buttons on her green uniform. I proceeded slowly and shyly although I was burning with desire but, as I said, it was for her to set the pace. I wanted her to know that sex was of minor importance to me right then.
I don't know, though, if she had the time to realize that.
Again I can't wipe that smile off my face. I had always imagined Sarah Mackenzie to be a passionate woman. But the way she seduced me nearly knocked me out of my shoes.
I guess I see you smirk at me.
But let's leave the jokes aside for a moment. Dad, I'm not sure if you understand what I mean, but making love to Sarah was like a spiritual journey to the very essence of love itself. When I held her in my arms, being as close to her as I could possibly get, the world around me just seemed to fade away. It was just her and me, our hearts beating in unison. It was unlike anything I ever experienced.
Right now Sarah's peacefully asleep, cuddled tightly into the blanket. Before I left the bedroom to write to you, I stood in the doorway for several minutes and watched her sleeping. She looks like an angel. Dad, I know I don't deserve her but I promise that, in time, I'll make it up to her and prove myself worthy of her. You believe me, don't you?
I just heard something and looked up to see light shine through the glass brick wall that separates my bedroom from the living room. I'll get back to you later. Bye!
0627 local
Dear Lt. Rabb,
Okay: Dear Dad. Please, don't blame me, Harm told me to address you like that. He's looking over my shoulder as I write so I can't do anything but comply.
From what Harm told me about his letters to you, I guess you already have an idea about who I am. Anyway, to keep up the customs of society, let me present myself: my name is Sarah Mackenzie. I'm a lieutenant colonel in the Marine Corps, Chief of Staff at JAG Headquarters and Harm's working partner of several years. And - I hope you won't mind, sir... sorry, I have to take back the 'sir' because your son won't allow that I use it with you, he's headstrong, you know - anyway, what I wanted to add was that I am the woman who right now has on her left hand the ring that you once gave to your wife. I do hope you consent to your son's choice.
Are you curious to know how Harm managed to pop the question? Actually, he did it in a very sweet way. I'm sure he told you about the experiment with the arch and that I gave him the single brick stones to tell him whenever he was on the right way to rebuild the bridge that he had burnt? I didn't give him the final piece until last night at the airport. I had intended to take it with me to Europe, sad souvenir of what might have been, sort of, but heaven sent a blizzard and your son convinced me to stay.
When I woke, a couple of hours ago, he interrupted his letter to you and came back to the bedroom with an atlas and the little brick stones, including the last one. As we didn't have a folding table, we laid out the arch on the right-hand page of the map in the middle of the book (Russia, actually). Then we slowly lifted the back of the atlas until the arch stood and then put the map down again. The arch held.
This is about teamwork, you know: I steadied the ground while he balanced the stones. Alone, neither of us could have done it. This may seem a little sentimental but isn't this a beautiful sign of belonging together?
All right, I'm starting to babble, but you must forgive me: I'm still kind of overwhelmed by what followed our construction work. With one of those dazzling smiles I'm sure he inherited from you, Harm put his hand in the pocket of his bathrobe. "I think I may have the right monument to place on top of our bridge to eternity," he said and I suddenly felt my breath catch in my throat.
Harm carefully placed a little object on the topmost stone. When I saw the dusty little black velvet box I looked at him, unable to utter a syllable. I mean, you have to understand that, just about ten hours prior, I had been ready and willing to leave my shattered hopes behind for forever, to finally move on with my life. And now...
Harm looked at me with that funny expression of his, you know, this look that is half the cocky pilot and half the frightened little boy that is begging his mother not to take his favorite toy away from him.
You must excuse that nasty blotch of ink but your son just slapped me on the arm for what I said about his glance. Don't worry, he got an elbow to his chest in return for assaulting a woman. I'm a Marine, after all... Anyway, back to our bridge: here's what happened.
"Take it, Sarah," Harm said simply, softly, "And with it my heart and my life."
Careful not to destroy the arch, I removed the little box from the top. That wasn't too easy, by the way, because my hand was shaking madly. But I managed to retrieve it.
The ring is stunning. You have an exquisite taste, Dad. (Still feels strange calling you that... I'll get accustomed to it, I promise.) And it fits perfectly. I can't take my eyes off it. It's so beautiful in its simplicity. White-gold band, single diamond. I wouldn't have wanted anything else.
I feel immensely honored to be offered to wear it, knowing what it must mean to your wife. Harm told me that she gave it to him years ago, for Diane. Thinking that - from what he tells me - since that time he never took it out or even considered giving it to anyone, makes me prouder still. I promise to prove myself worthy of it.
Thank you for your wonderful son. I give you my word of honor that I will always love him. And that I'll make him happy if I can.
Love, Sarah
THE END