| Subject: Big Blue Sky Part Nine |
Author:
Karen
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Date Posted: 16:50:15 07/16/06 Sun
In reply to:
Karen
's message, "Big Blue Sky" on 20:35:06 04/21/06 Fri
Big Blue Sky
Part Nine
Brookes Ranch
Western Montana
2230 Thursday
He leaned against the doorjamb with his arms crossed, watching her brush her teeth. It was becoming a typical pose as he discovered he loved to watch her even when she did the most mundane things. As she rinsed her mouth and toothbrush, then reached for a towel, he caught her eyes in the mirror. The open book on the quilt told him she had waited a while before preparing to go to bed. He’d been on the phone for almost forty minutes.
The look on his face gave her pause. She patted her mouth dry and asked without turning, “What is it? What did you find out?”
“They have released Charlie and Joan’s bodies. They’ll be at the funeral home in the morning. We can have the service Saturday afternoon,” he recited a little more clinically than she might have expected. Something else was going on.
“And?” she prompted.
“And they think they know how it happened,” he responded cryptically.
She just waited, not moving, still holding his eyes in the mirror.
“Rustlers,” he stated without elaboration.
“Rustlers?! What do you mean rustlers?” she was stunned. She leaned her hands on the counter top, rooted to the spot.
“Just that. Rustlers. Apparently, Charlie and Joan made a wide path when they flew from the ranch, to check the herd before continuing on their trip. They must have discovered the rustlers at work. No one knows for certain what happened, but they suspect Charlie tried to buzz the herd to scatter the cattle while Joan made the rather abrupt call for help. Best guess is before she could finish the call they were both severely injured by rifle fire. The fuselage was riddled with bullet holes. Charlie apparently survived for a few minutes and kept the plane in the air, but he soon lost consciousness and that’s why they crashed so far into the hills.”
He walked up closer behind her, but his arms were still crossed defensively. Something in his eyes was telling her that Harm wasn’t fully dealing with this on a personal level. He was reporting details as though he were talking about a case. In fact, she’d seen more emotion from him on some of his cases.
The only response she could think of was confusion, exasperation, and near disbelief. “Harm this isn’t John Wayne or…or Hopalong Cassidy. This is the twenty-first century. Rustlers is the best they can come up with?”
“Hopalong Cassidy, Mac?” he took the odd turn and distracted the conversation. She’d discovered by now that Harm needed time to deal with heavy issues. It had been a quick lesson, but she recognized the tactic and let him go.
“Yeah…you know…the old TV show.” She didn’t care to delve into her personal past, but if it helped him sort his thoughts, she’d go along.
“How do you know about Hopalong Cassidy, Mac?”
“I…well…when I…a friend used to let me come over and watch TV with him when I was a kid. They had cable, we didn’t. We used to get together and watch all the old westerns on a special channel they had. They were on for a couple of hours every afternoon after school,” she admitted sheepishly.
“I guess that accounts for the cowboy pj’s,” he watched a blush lightly color her cheeks. “I always wondered where that came from. Were they your hero’s, Mac?” he asked gently.
“Sort of,” she shrugged. “You know white hats, mighty steeds, fighting for right, virtually indestructible hero, all that.”
He gave a small, self-deprecating snort. “Well I have a white hat, but I’m not sure about the hero part. And Billy won’t even let me near the mighty steeds on the ranch,” he referred, defensively, to his riding lesson that afternoon.
She held his eyes in the mirror wondering about the body language of this conversation. “You have it all, Harm, and if a fighter jet isn’t a mighty steed I don’t know what is. You’ve always been my hero,” she admitted, a slight mist filming her eyes.
He looked surprised then colored slightly. “Really?” he asked, somehow uncharacteristically, needing the reassurance.
“Really. Shall I list the reasons? All the instances and exploits over the years,” she challenged him lightly.
“No,” he shook his head still embarrassed but pleased. “No, but thank you. It means a lot coming from you,” he admitted. “You’ve always sort of been my hero too, although I never actually gave you a category or alter ego. It was always just you.”
“Maybe a pedestal is a hard place to start a real relationship from,” she ventured
“Maybe so, maybe that was it,” he shrugged.
“Maybe that’s why it worked this time. We didn’t have time to get back into all that,” she suggested, reaching for the bottom of her t-shirt. She’d been about to shower when he walked in.
“That could be. Whatever the reason I’m glad we got it right this time,” his suddenly shaky voice told her. Stepping into her space, he helped her pull the shirt over her head.
“Me too.” She reached behind her to undo her bra and found his fingers already on the clasp. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, she saw a need different from their previous private moments. She felt the garment loosen, the straps fall from her shoulders, and his hands slide beneath her arms replacing the fabric covering her breasts. She leaned back against his broad chest and sighed as his lips came down on her shoulder.
In only seconds his grasp became tighter, his embrace rougher, his mouth on her skin more demanding. He pulled her around in his arms capturing her lips, then turned their bodies as one, and backed her the few steps against the wall of the small bathroom. Pressing into her, his entire frame tensed with a different kind of longing. His fingers jerked at the buttons on her Levi’s, and his hands slipped inside squeezing her rounded bottom, pulling her into him. He wouldn’t hurt her, she knew that, but she was puzzled by this sudden desperate hunger. She accepted his kisses and returned his urgency, knowing this wasn’t an ordinary passion causing him to thrust against her.
Though his movements seemed more distressed than angry, she slid her hands up his chest pushing slightly, pulling out of the kiss, and searching his face. There was hollowness there, almost an emptiness. Fear, despair, and loss fought for dominance in his soft green eyes, turning them barren and distant.
“Mac, please,” he whispered harshly. “I can’t…I can’t lose you too.”
His hands were steel on her as she searched for the answer, then suddenly she knew. “It just hit you didn’t it?”
He could only nod. He looked as though he was about to break.
“Oh, Harm,” she murmured soothingly, and pulled him tightly against her. He fell into her embrace, scooping her into his arms. Their showers forgotten for the moment, he made swift strides to the bed taking her down and pulling her against him.
“It’s okay…it’s okay,” she whispered over and over as his body tried to merge with hers through clothing and skin, as his lips devoured hers seeking to assure himself she was real, and alive, and here with him.
“Please,” he gasped again.
“Harm, it’s okay…I won’t ever go anywhere…it’s okay.” She kissed him again, then again, pulling him tighter, wrapping herself around him, answering his distress, until finally she felt the tears spill from his eyes, wetting her shoulder, and she felt the sobs wrack his body. He’d held it so long, been so strong for everyone, and now it was his turn.
“I…can’t…lose you,” he struggled for each trembling breath, pulling her closer, holding even tighter if that was possible.
“Never, Harm. You’ll never lose me.” The phrase finally took its true meaning.
Slowly, after long minutes, the tremors stilled, his desperation subsided, replaced by a softer need and a deeper desire. Gently they pushed away the remnants of their clothing until nothing was left but their skin. Softly and carefully, he loved her as though she was the most precious thing on earth. She drained him of his anguish and desolation, as he poured his hurt and sorrow into her, entrusting her with his soul and his sanity.
It was an awesome responsibility to have the care of another person’s heart. He had hers as well, but the time had not come yet to entrust him with her inner demons. His need was now, hers would follow later. This fear of loss may have always been at the center of Harm’s uncertainties. He’d lost his father as a young boy. Other losses had followed certainly, friends, buddies.
Now his aunt and uncle were suddenly gone, and by a violent hand that would still threaten all he held dear. There was fear for Frank’s health as well, and in a not too distant past, he’d thought he’d lost her. She wasn’t certain which level, which time of Harm’s life she was comforting, perhaps all of them. This may have been simply the final straw that brought all of his losses to the forefront. No single doubt shadowed her mind that he would rise stronger for the fact he’d opened himself to her, and allowed her to share this moment of need.
For more than an hour, they lay tangled together in a tight ball, giving and taking the comfort of loving, physical contact, until the night chill raised a shower of tiny goose bumps on their damp bodies. Then together they rose, showered, and burrowed beneath the deep covers to sleep away the anguish and exhaustion in each other’s arms. Another wall had been breached, another pillar forged to support their evolving love.
Friday Morning
Harm’s head jerked restlessly, and his hand moved to shelter his sleep-swollen eyes as a bright shaft of sunlight slipped over the windowsill, pierced the curtains, and slammed into his face.
His body rolled, seeking the comfort of his wife. She’d been there for him all night. He’d awakened several times to find quiet tears streaming down his face. She merely snuggled closer, and held him tighter, until he returned to his restless sleep.
But now he found her side of the bed empty and the sheets cold. Had he upset her last night? His response to all this had initially been rough, but she’d seemed to understand. He thought he’d made it up to her. She said she’d never leave him. Why then was she gone?
Of all the things about being married to Mac he would forever hate it would be waking up to find her not there. Yet he knew as long as they were active military there was no way to guarantee it wouldn’t happen repeatedly. Was he being at all reasonable?
Rolling to a sitting position, he watched his shadow crawl down the wall and realized why she was gone. The morning was late it must be 0800 or later. Their world stirred at 0530 on the ranch. She must have risen to protect the sleep she knew he needed.
He stumbled to the bathroom and sloshed huge amounts of cold water over his face. Overall, he had to admit he felt better, stronger, for allowing her to share his burden. He had to find out now if it had been too heavy of a burden to lay on her so soon in their relationship. He studied his eyes in the mirror, honestly asking himself that question, and came up with a resounding no.
If their roles were reversed, he would have given her what she needed. He could credit Mac’s love with no less. They had felt the power of their reconnection with that first look on the flight line. Whether others thought this was too fast or not, they were both certain in the deepest part of their hearts, there could be no other option. That they would be together forever, and be there for each other through anything life put in their path.
He wouldn’t underestimate her love, and he prayed she would never have reason to underestimate his.
Pulling on his jeans, he buttoned the fly, slipped into socks and boots, and pulled a fresh t-shirt over his head. He opened the bedroom door while in the act of dragging a flannel shirt over his muscled arms, and rolled up the sleeves as he descended the stairs.
She couldn’t have gone far. He would find a way to thank her, but first he had to find her.
End of nine
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