| Subject: Big Blue Sky Part Two |
Author:
Karen
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Date Posted: 21:26:18 04/24/06 Mon
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Big Blue Sky" on 20:35:06 04/21/06 Fri
A/N: Glad you are enjoying this. I’ll be gone for two weeks but TxJAG_b promised to post another chapter for me.
I’d like to thank ‘b’ for his help and input and tireless research helping me find the things I needed for this story. Of course my friend Chris as always is a huge help keeping my punctuation straight and all those stupid little typos I make.
And a new friend janlaw has given me a lot of insight into military protocol and interaction as well as the area of the naval station involved.
I was unable to avail myself of all of her advice as the story was already written when she offered her help, but when I make a mistake on place or distance please forgive. It was my error and I’m going with the ‘Norfolk is half hour out of DC and Annapolis is just around the corner’ theme used by JAG and NCIS. LOL
Big Blue Sky
Part Two
NAS Whidbey Officer’s Club
2 Nov 2007
1440
“I know.” The words hung in the air between them.
How many hundreds of times had she heard him say those two words over the years. Hundreds, maybe thousands? Just those two words that spilled from his lips on that special, rounded, three-note, sound wave. And how many times in all those years had she misinterpreted what he’d meant? Every one, until this very moment.
Always, always she had thought the words dismissive. That he was indicating he already had that information and disregarded it, or it no longer was a factor in his decision-making. Oh, how she would have responded differently if she had read his eyes on those occasions, instead of just hearing the words and misreading his inflection.
Now, she understood. What he was really saying was ‘I have that information and I haven’t a clue what I’m going to do with it.’ This was Harmon Rabb Jr., fighter jock extraordinaire and naval lawyer supreme at his most insecure. And she’d never recognized it.
Of course, his thoughts were scrambled. Whose wouldn’t be? He’d just received news that could very likely put a dead stop to his Naval career. How many life-altering situations had hit him suddenly during his adult life, and how often had he been forced to make a decision with no time to think?
For all the comparisons to his skill in flying a jet fighter, making split second decisions in life wasn’t the same at all. You drilled, and practiced, and repeated your skills over and over again in flying, until you could take any given situation and solve it in a fraction of a second. Someone else made the rules, someone else directed your actions and gave the orders. You flew the plane and did the job assigned. Not a simple task, nor one to trivialize, but it wasn’t the same.
Command of a fighter plane was and always would be a group effort. Certainly, keeping the plane in the air, engaging the enemy, and the final decision to push the button rested ultimately with the pilot. But it couldn’t be compared to the isolation of being expected to make a personal decision that would completely alter your life and someone else’s in a split second. There were no practice runs in life. No Top Gun school. No Rules of Engagement.
How unfair she’d been to him. It was a wonder he still spoke to her at all. She shook her head, ashamed she had ever doubted him.
“Im sorry, Mac, I’ll…I’ll have to look into this. I can’t…” he began to gather the papers, misinterpreting her impatience with herself for annoyance with him.
She stilled him with a brief touch to his hand. A gesture that could only last for a second in the midst of this room half full of officers, but it was enough to make him hesitate.
“Of course not, Harm. This must have been a terrible shock. How could you have expected it to happen? Please. Talk to me. Let me help if I can. If I can’t, then just let me listen while you sort out your thoughts and options.” Perhaps it was too bold, too presumptuous, but she didn’t want to let him get away again. If she lost him today, he’d be gone forever. Even if he only remained her friend, she wanted that back as much or more than anything.
He’d said there was no one meeting him, but he hadn’t elaborated. She could be busy, at work, perhaps out of town. None of which would have stopped Mac, if Harm were coming home to her after an extended absence. Nevertheless, it might be a new relationship, something just in the formative stages. Maybe just a flirtation.
‘Stop it,’ she chastised herself. He’s been gone for at least six months. Flirtations rarely ever last long distance for that amount of time. It was either pretty serious before he left, or there really was no one. That was the concept she found difficult to believe. Good grief, look at him. How could a man like him wander around loose all this time without some woman finding a way to get closer to him? Her eyes had locked with his while her mind whirled through these thoughts, willing him to be available. His eyes were equally penetrating, searching for the answers to questions of his own.
There were only two possibilities left, he was either playing an extremely broad field, or he was…no…she couldn’t allow herself that thought. ‘Oh, God, what if he was married?’ Quickly her focus shot to his left hand, hoping to find no ring on his finger.
Harm was the kind of man who would wear a ring. If he’d made that commitment, he would never hide it as some men did. His job certainly didn’t preclude wearing jewelry. He wore his academy ring. He would wear a wedding ring.
Slowly her eyes raised back to meet his and she saw by the small twinkle in their depths that he’d read her thoughts.
“No one, Mac,” he said softly with just the hint of amused lilt. “I said no one, and I meant no one. Not married, not engaged, not even involved.”
She swallowed hard and nodded her head. She’d been busted speculating, and she didn’t care. Now, she had her answer. It remained to be seen if he would ask about her. After all she couldn’t just blurt it…
“You?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, asking the question she wanted to answer. “Is there anyone in your life?”
“N-no, no one, Harm,” she laughed, blushed, and looked away then back. “I sort of swore off men. There didn’t seem to be any favorable percentage in the gamble anymore,” she admitted ruefully.
“Two years is a long time to be alone,” he remarked for no particular reason.
“I was a little busy the first five months and after that…”
“Did it take you long to recover?” he asked, with a significant look at her row of ribbons.
“Not as long as it might have if those fighter jocks hadn’t shown up,” she smiled bravely. The pain was a faintly remembered twinge that only occasionally bothered her when she was cold and tired.
“The Navy is always happy to be of service,” he bowed his head graciously, then quickly hooded his eyes. Had he said too much? Did she catch his slip? He needed to quickly move the conversation in a different direction.
More interested in getting the subject off herself, she let his remark go unchallenged. “So how about you? Two years ‘is’ a long time,” she remarked carelessly.
He gave her a long stare as though calculating the effect of his next words. Then decided honesty wouldn’t cause any future surprises. “I haven been celibate if that’s what you mean.”
Slightly embarrassed, she nodded quickly, “Im sorry, Harm. I didn’t mean to pry.”
“I almost got married, Mac,” he admitted. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound,’ as Grams used to say.
“Married?” Her mouth went dry.
He nodded seriously. “After I transferred here, before we shipped out, I met someone. We hit it off. Somehow, at the time it seemed like a good idea.” He decided at this point not to remind her that he never expected to see her again.
“What happened?” Curiosity got the better of her. If he wanted to share this with her then she needed to listen. They’d spent way too much time not listening to each other.
“We deployed for six months. She said she’d wait. It turned into seven, then halfway home we were ordered into Japan for re-supply. We had one month in port. There were weekend liberties, but no leave. I couldn’t get back here. I asked her to fly out, she said no, not for just a weekend. The week before we returned to the Gulf she sent me a ‘Dear John’ letter,” he shrugged. “Said she couldn’t live that way.” His smile was one of dark amusement at the clichéd situation.
“What did you do?” she asked, almost more interested in the tale than in the personal element.
“What any sailor does when he gets a letter like that.” He gave her a direct stare, and a raised eyebrow, wondering if she really wanted to hear this. She nodded for him to continue, anticipating what he would probably say. All but the last of it.
“I rounded up a few buddies, and we hit the highest class ‘place’ in town.” He nodded affirmative at her unasked question about the kind of ‘place’. “We stayed shit-faced drunk for three days, and it took three days to get over the hangover after we were back at sea. We were a group of very sick puppies. I never knew it was possible for one human being to throw up so much, or hurt so much, and still live, but I learned something.” He let the thought hang.
“What?” She was disturbed, but not greatly so, at this admission of mortal weakness from a man whom she’d always thought the model of personal military decorum.
He leaned a little foreword, looked her squarely in the eyes, and revealed in a low, rumbley, almost secret, voice. “I learned that a three-day drunk could wipe Sandy from my thoughts entirely, but no amount of time or alcohol could wipe you from them.”
She didn’t know what to say. His admission had knocked the air from her lungs and left her speechless. She knew when they parted in DC two years ago that regardless of their words, the expectation of never seeing the other again prevailed. But now here they were, and in spite of that intervening time they found their feelings for the other hadn’t changed and couldn’t be erased. She had no idea what to do next.
Handing his credit card to the waiter, he started to gather the papers together. This weekend would be devoted to some serious thinking. He’d need to schedule a visit to the ranch and that would mean requesting immediate leave. Not really a problem. In the last two years he’d taken a total of two weeks leave. One week on his way out here the first time, when he stopped to visit his aunt and uncle, and one week the last time his ship was in port, to visit his Mom.
“So does your offer still hold to drive me to my car?”
He asked with that cocky sideways smile she found so captivating. ‘Oh hell’ she mused ‘all his smiles are captivating.’
“Your car is in your garage, Harm,” she reminded him, but she couldn’t help the corners of her mouth twitching at the tease.
“I know,” he said again, and this time the lilt in his voice definitely held more certainty, perhaps even a suggestion, or a promise.
“So, you want me to drive you home?” she smiled again, enjoying the flirtation. The fact she’d already agreed to this had nothing to do with what was happening.
“Well, I guess I could walk.” He gave her an artificial pout.
She looked out the window at the darkening sky. The rain poured in sheets, trailing thick rivulets down the panes.
“No, I don’t think so, Harm. I can’t have my hero walking in this stuff. You’d catch pneumonia.” Her joke referred to his defiance of the SecNav to free her from prison, but she stopped at the look of discomfort that crossed his face. It was quickly gone, replaced by another distracting smile this time a serious one.
“You’re the hero, Mac.” He pointed again to her ribbons. “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime.”
“Sometime,” she agreed thoughtfully. It still wasn’t easy to talk about, but if anyone would understand, it would be Harm.
As soon as the waiter returned with his card and the check to sign, they gathered their things together. He held her jacket for her, then slipped into his own.
Stepping out into the late afternoon downpour, he turned to her on the porch and suggested, “Want to let me drive? It might be easier than trying to give you directions in with this rain, and it will be dark before we get there.”
Realizing this was probably a sensible suggestion, she cautioned, “All right, but be careful it’s only six months old.” She hit the button to unlock the car and handed him the keys.
They started towards the SUV, but he stopped her while they were still under shelter. “Wait here on the porch. I’ll go get your car,” he offered gallantly.
“I’ll be fine, Harm,” she smiled and resumed walking. “Maybe sometime when I’m all dressed up,” came out of nowhere before she realized what she’d said.
“You asking me for a date, Marine?” He glanced at her, matching her stride. The look of hope was bare on his face.
“Would you say yes if I did?” she answered his question with a question.
“Yes,” he stopped in the rain, completely oblivious now to the soaking they were receiving. “But only if you let me ask you first,” he smiled his full-blown flyboy smile.
“Always the alpha male,” she shook her head playfully.
“So will you have dinner with me, Mac?” he asked.
“Sure, I’d love to,” she gave him a straight look. “When?”
“How about tonight? At my place,” he offered somewhat nervously.
Her eyebrow went up, not in fear, but in speculation. Was this going to get as interesting as she’d like? Was she getting her hopes too high too quickly? After nine years of an indefinable relationship, and two years when neither thought they’d ever see the other again, who was to say if anything was too quick.
“Are there restaurants out there?” she sidestepped.
“Nope, but I’m sure Frank’s caretakers have stocked my fridge with basic stuff. I may have to shop tomorrow, but there should be enough for spaghetti or an omelet. Meager fare for a first date, but I’ll make it up to you later,” he grinned with only the barest hint of playful suggestion.
“Sounds good to me,” she accepted. She wasn’t entirely certain if he meant he’d make it up later this evening, or at a later time with a better dinner. Either way worked for her. It meant they might finally be headed towards the same somewhere at the same time.
A sudden gust of wind blew the rain against them shaking them from their soggy reverie.
“I guess we better get into the car,” Harm suggested, taking two more long steps. He opened the passenger door for Mac before he hurried around to climb in the driver’s side.
His eyes went immediately to the built-in GPS on the dashboard.
“Hey, look here. A GPS. Is this thing as good as the one in my Hornet?” This was delivered with a sly twinkle in his eye, faintly tinged with simple boyish enthusiasm. He started the car and punched in his address.
“Don’t know. I never found a reason to use it.” He’d come back to her in full fighter jock mode. Everything related to his plane. Shaking her head at his enthusiasm for a simple piece of electronics, she smiled at him indulgently. After spending months in one of the government’s premier fighter jets, a self-contained wonder of modern technology, the fact that he found her new car to be fascinating was the essence of Harmon Rabb.
She reached over and set the heater controls to warm their soaked bodies. No point in catching cold now. This weekend had too many possibilities in spite of the bad news Harm had just received.
She knew the next few days would bring some heavy introspection. He had more information to gather, and a lot of details to work out on the complexities of his future. She hoped he would allow her to help him, but she also recognized that could be asking too much. They’d been separated for two years. There was no way to know if they could find what they’d lost. Only time would tell.
End of two
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