| Subject: 'Dissonance' - Part Five |
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Daenar
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Date Posted: 15:03:11 07/24/02 Wed
In reply to:
Daenar
's message, "'Dissonance' - Part Four" on 14:59:09 07/24/02 Wed
‘Dissonance’ – Part Five
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
Tue, June 2nd
2231 ZULU
Harm’s apartment
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.
Harm jumped when the telephone started ringing. Today his third year students had managed to completely tire him out. They had been a little troublesome from the start and with today’s weather’s inclination to heavy thunderstorms, things had gone wild. They had been talking about Dixieland Jazz and a cadet had brought his banjo. Everyone had paid attention as Harm had explained how the student’s instrument worked and where to find the differences between a banjo and other instruments of the same family, like a guitar, for instance. Of course, Harm had brought his guitar along to let them see and hear what he meant.
But after the practical part of the lesson, Harm had gone back to the peculiarities of Dixie instrumentation and it was then the chaos had started to erupt. The banjo boy had started making funny noises with the chords of his instrument, and once laughter had spread in the general class mood, all had quickly followed the path down to ridicule and had started to laugh at practically everything, unable to fight the urge to snort without reason.
At first Harm had played along a little, thinking once the joke was made the students would calm down again. At least this concept had already worked once in Mac’s class when a laughing epidemic had threatened to spread. But this time it didn’t work. Before long Harm had found himself shouting like a drill sergeant, distributing reprimands and extra assignments until he had frightened the class back to discipline.
Upon arriving home, Harm had only flopped into the nearest armchair and had dozed off almost immediately. Now the phone brutally woke him from his soothing dreams of a certain Marine colonel. On the fourth ring Harm had come to his senses and grabbed the receiver.
“Rabb,” he said, still a little disoriented.
“Commander Rabb,” he heard a calm, friendly voice greet him form the other end of the line, “This is Lieutenant Commander Peter Laird. Am I disturbing you, sir?”
Harm pulled himself up into a comfortable sitting position and stifled a yawn. “No, absolutely not, Commander.” He tried hard to sound awake. “I was just relaxing a bit after an especially tiring lesson.”
“Let me guess, third year students, sir?” Harm detected sympathy and slight amusement in the teacher’s voice.
“Yep.” Chuckling slightly, Harm asked: “So they’re like that all the time?”
“Almost,” Laird confirmed, obviously still smiling. “But once you tell them unmistakably where their place is they’ll pull themselves together, sir.”
“Well, then from now on things should go smoothly,” Harm stated, hoping Laird was right.
He heard the lieutenant commander chuckle. “I see. Sir, actually I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“I’ll be at your service, Commander. But first I wanted to thank you,” Harm said sincerely. “Without your thorough preparation I don’t know if I’d have managed to make things go as easily as they have gone so far. I owe you for that.”
Laird sounded embarrassed. “No big deal, sir. I like being prepared and I imagine what it must be like being thrown into a totally unknown situation. I just thought I could help.”
“You sure did, Commander. As I said, I owe you. Thanks again. But now tell me: What can I do for you?”
“Nothing, sir, actually,” Laird answered. “I just wanted to ask you if you decided yet what you’d do about the Benny-Goodman project.”
Harm had been expecting the question sooner or later. “Honestly, Commander, I don’t know,” he answered, sighing. “When Cadet Odenberg told me about it, I was hoping we could... well, make you come back again soon.” Harm was careful not to mention the investigation on the telephone. He had no idea if the line was secure. Laird instantly got the concept.
“Me, too, sir. But it seems my recovery will take longer than I thought. So I wanted to assure you of my full assistance and cooperation for the concert as far as I can offer it being ill. Sir...” Laird hesitated, seemingly unsure how to approach what he wanted to say. “Permission to speak freely?”
“Go ahead, Commander,” Harm encouraged him.
“Sir, ever since I came up with the idea of this soirée, the band has been excited about it. Of course, when Cadet Waters suddenly died, the rehearsals were forgotten, the tragedy overshadowing all that was going on. But now I start getting emails from the band members asking me what would become of our plans. Captain Wells has good connections to someone in the administration of Carnegie Hall, you know. We were actually planning to do it there. It would be a dream for the band to be on that stage.”
Harm had slightly paled upon guessing where Laird was headed. “I imagine, Commander,” he choked out, trying not to let his fear show.
“Sir, for the sake of the students who have worked so hard for entire months, I beg you not to cancel the concert. If I may I’d like to add that ever since your arrival I keep getting emails from many of my students, especially from those who are part of the marching band, who tell me that you’re doing a great job. They love you and your unorthodox ways of rehearsing. Cadet Stiller tells me you rely on her experience and she thinks the band draws advantage from a little change of style from time to time. She’s as sure as I am that you can pull this off, sir.”
Harm swallowed hard. Carnegie Hall. There were so many places all over the States one could have really nice concerts in. But it had to be Carnegie Hall of all of them. The hall of fame. Now wasn’t he lucky once again? He frowned, thinking of how disappointed the cadets would be if he said no.
“What about the first clarinet?” he asked instead of replying directly to Laird’s plea. “Without Cadet Waters I don’t see how we can play Goodman at all.”
Laird sighed heavily. “That’s indeed a problem, sir. Gonzalez plays decently but he’s not up to being a soloist. There’s Cadet Hannah Brown in first year who right now figures as our substitute. Technically, she’d be able to do it but she’s way too shy to do a proper soloist’s interpretation. Apart from her, there’s no one right now. But I promise you, Commander, that I’ll come up with someone skilled if you agree to have the concert.”
At a loss about what he could do to prevent it, Harm gave in. “All right, Cmdr. Laird. I’ll do it. When’s the concert supposed to be?”
“Three weeks from now, sir, on Sunday 21st of June. First weekend is out of the question with everyone going home, but after that you’ll be able to dispose of the musicians’ time to full extent. They’re used to it and actually enjoy the excitement of constant rehearsal. But don’t worry, you can leave a lot of that to Cadet Stiller. She’s good at rehearsing and, strange as it seems, people tend to listen to what she says.” He fell silent for a moment, but Harm didn’t say anything, sensing Laird was not done yet.
“Thank you, Cmdr. Rabb,” Laird finally said with a heartfelt sigh. “You don’t know how much this means to me and to the band. I’ll owe you now.”
“Let’s just say we’re equal, Commander,” Harm replied, smiling to himself, wondering silently how much weirder things would still get in the course of this assignment. With a deep sigh he rose and got himself a bottle of water from the fridge. Sitting down again and running his hand through his hair, he forlornly stared at the telephone, longing to call Mac.
‘Now it gets tricky, Hammer,’ he silently said to himself. ‘You didn’t ever imagine being on stage in a Carnegie-Hall concert, did you?’
Just then, God had mercy with his faithful servant and made the telephone ring. It wasn’t Mac but a solution to one of his problems, instead.
“Rabb.”
“Good evening, Commander. This is Lt. Prumetti.”
“Fred, now that’s a welcome voice,” Harm greeted his young friend, “And I’m off duty, so call me Harm. What brings this about?”
“Just wanted to know if everything was all right, you know, apart from the job.” Fred seemed a little unsure about how to address Rabb the friend, not Rabb the commander.
Harm grinned, pleased to see people back in D.C. were caring about their well-being. “Tell the admiral we’re holding up, Fred. Mac’s gradually transforming into a decent musician, actually. I can see she enjoys being a part of the group. Who’d have guessed?” He chuckled softly and heard soft chuckling from the other end of the line, too.
[A.N.: It isn’t as improbable as it may seem that Mac actually develops her musicality this quickly. I can tell from my own orchestral experience, but actually I was thinking of a scene of “Mr. Holland’s opus” where Holland succeeds to teach a boy to play the bass drum in no time, and the boy isn’t musical at all. It’s just hard work. We know Mac to be hardworking and rhythmical as well, so...]
“I’m glad to hear it,” Fred stated. “For me it always used to feel like being ‘high’, being part of an orchestra. I remember the first time we’d try the second movement of the fourth symphony of Brahms – afterwards I’d walk home like someone not from this world. It was like the music had swept me away!” Harm could hear Fred was getting more enthusiastic all the time. Curiosity made him cut in, though.
“Wait a minute, you play?”
“Yes. Back in Venice, I studied music with the Conservatorio Benedetto Marcello. You know, people normally don’t take private music lessons in Italy. Either they start conservatory as children, study their ten years parallel to school, pass the exams and get a music degree or they don’t play at all. There’s no such thing as a private music culture in Italy. But, as I said, I got to study music and for three years was first clarinet in the conservatory orchestra, at times even helping out at La Fenice when the opera-house musicians were on strike once again...”
Harm inhaled sharply, causing Fred to interrupt himself, confused. “Did you just say ‘clarinet’, Lieutenant?” he asked.
Fred instantly snapped back to military mode. “Yes, sir.”
Harm had jumped to his feet in sudden excitement. This wasn’t a coincidence – this was providence! “Why did you never tell us?”
“You never asked, sir.” Now that was a typical Fred-ish statement. ‘Always the modest gentleman, this guy,’ Harm thought with a huge grin. “Lieutenant, tell the admiral I request your immediate assistance at Dwayne Myers from Monday, June 8th until Sunday, June 21st. And bring your instrument. That’s an order.”
“A... aye, sir.” Fred sounded totally taken aback. “May I ask why, sir?”
Harm’s grin could be heard over the line right back in Fred and Claire’s living-room in Rosslyn, and Claire watched in silent amusement as her fiancé’s face suddenly turned white. He had to sit down in a nearby armchair, hearing the commander say: “You’ll save me and the marching band from canceling a Carnegie-Hall concert, Lt. Prumetti. You’ll take the soloist’s part in our grand Benny-Goodman soirée!”
Thur, June 4th
1957 ZULU
Dwayne Myers Naval College
Long Island, N.Y.
“F...fforget it!!!” Mac saved herself from shouting something not too nice, once again quickly trying to brush off the stain that showed clearly on her skirt. She knew why she hated white. She knew why she just loved her marine uniforms. She knew why she would have to quit drinking coffee for the next weeks and also quit sitting down on the grass. And she just hated it. Rubbing hard with a soapy edge of her towel, she managed to make the fresh stain bleach remarkably – but on a close look it could still be seen and right now she didn’t have the time to change her uniform.
It was the fourth day now that cadets were to wear their ordinary summer whites and at the end of each day Mac had carried yet another skirt or blouse to be cleaned. This had to stop now, for she had only one set left.
“Pat, you coming?” Jeannine asked worriedly, standing in the open apartment door, her flute case in her hand.
“Yeah,” Mac answered, straightening her shirt and applying a little compact powder to her forehead where the last remainders of her collision with her drum were finally fading away. Then she joined Jeannine, grabbed her instrument and they headed over to the gym where the rest of the band was already assembled, including Harm who – surprisingly enough – somehow managed to be punctual to his lessons.
“Nice of you to join us, Cadets,” came his half-grinning remark, accompanied by a glance on his watch. Mac and Jeannine snapped to attention.
“I’m sorry, sir, if we kept you waiting,” Mac shouted, inwardly fuming at Harm’s attitude and herself giving him the reason. “But, with all due respect, sir, I believe we still have 23 seconds.”
Harm had to fight hard to refrain from laughing. ‘My Marine...’ he thought, inwardly chuckling. “Right. Now get in line.”
“Aye, sir!”
“At ease, everyone,” Harm began, clearing his throat. “I received a call from Lt. Cmdr. Laird two days ago. First of all he tells me to say hello to you all and tell you he keeps getting better. But with mononucleosis you have to be patient. Anyway, we talked about the Benny-Goodman project and...” seeing his students hold their breath, he took a little dramatic break, “We decided there will be a concert in Carnegie Hall on Sunday, June 21st”, he finished with a content grin.
“Yes!” Danny shouted, making a fist, then quickly sobering and adding. “Excuse me, sir.”
“You’re welcome, Cadet.” Harm tried not to let his grin get too wide.
“Excuse me, sir,” Jeannine ventured carefully, a frown showing on her face.
“Yes, Cadet Stiller?”
“Sir, what about the soloist? Without Meryl, er..., Cadet Waters?” Everyone’s eyes turned on Harm.
“Taken care of, Cadet,” Harm replied with the hint of a smile. “A friend of mine, an Italian navy lawyer, who’s right now participating in the officers’ exchange program and working with us at JAG back in Falls Church, studied music in Venice and has volunteered to play the solo clarinet.” ‘Well, sort of,’ he silently added to himself. “Lt. Prumetti will be joining us next week for rehearsals that will be held every day at 1600 for the next two weeks, starting on Monday, not excluding the weekends.”
At this, more stifled cheers could be heard. Harm was relieved that the reaction was positive. He had feared the band wouldn’t want a ‘grown up’ in their lines. But then, Fred was just a few years older than the rest of them. They’d have fun.
“Sir?” Cassandra shyly stepped out of line, her cheeks slightly flushed and her voice a little hoarse.
Harm smiled. “Yes, Cadet Odenberg?”
“Uhm..., sir, I think I can speak for all of us if I say how much this means to us. Thank you so much, sir, for going along with this plan. I mean, you didn’t have to and... well... maybe you don’t feel you really want to do all the extra work and don’t feel too well about this but we’ll never forget that you’re actually doing this for us.” She looked down on her feet with a shy smile. The entire band was nodding.
Harm was touched. ‘Heck, Hammer, you can pull this off, you have to. Look at those guys! You can’t let them down!’ Feeling a little embarrassed himself he again cleared his throat and with his hand rubbed his neck. “Uhm... you’re welcome, Cadet. Just promise me, all of you, you’ll help me through this, right? ‘Cause...” He grinned and put his finger to his lips like a conspirator. “...and this is off-record, understood?” They nodded eagerly. “’Cause I’m pretty scared to walk up on that stage. I need your full support or we all can forget this thing. Did I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir!” they shouted, all smiling broadly, proud that Harm had considered them trustworthy enough to speak freely.
Casually looking into several faces, Harm for some seconds caught Mac’s gaze and felt his heart swell at what he saw: in her eyes were shining pride for her brave man, joy for being a part of the group, anticipation and excitement regarding the upcoming events and, most of all, pure and unconditional love for him, brought to the surface for the briefest moment by the efforts he was making to save his students’ dream, even if for him it meant doing something he dreaded.
He was shaken from his daydreams by Jeannine’s voice. “Sir, do you have a copy of the score to send to your friend?”
“Actually, no, Cadet. Thank you for reminding me. Do you know where I could find one?”
“I don’t know for sure, sir, but I think Meryl’s copy is in the attic together with her things. I... I could get it for you after the rehearsal if you like.” Harm could tell Jeannine was uneasy at the thought of searching between her dead friend’s personal belongings.
“Thank you, Cadet Stiller. I’d very much appreciate that. Let Cadet O’Hara help you, so it won’t take too long.” ‘And you’ll have someone to cling to if it gets too hard’, he silently added. Maybe Mac would even be able to dig up something useful for their investigation.
“Yes, sir.” Jeannine sounded relieved.
“Now,” Harm turned to address the whole group again, “Go get your music-stands. No marching today. I’d like to hear how much is still left to do before going on stage. So I’ll know what we’ve got when Lt. Prumetti shows up next week.”
“Aye, sir!” all shouted eagerly, putting their instruments down and hurrying to get ready to show the commander just what they were able to do when properly motivated to give their best.
Fri, June 5th
2251 ZULU
Ladies’ restrooms
Marriott Marquis Hotel
Times Square
New York City, N.Y.
Mac critically surveyed herself in the mirror. Yes, that would do, she decided, satisfied with her looks. After receiving Harm’s invitation she had at once mailed to Harriet to send her one of her evening dresses, one she hadn’t worn in quite a long time. She thought maybe Harm hadn’t even seen it on her. It was a very romantic, feminine dress, not quite the style she usually wore. But being a happy college girl had made her feel like putting it on.
Perhaps it was the color that had kept her from wearing it all these years. Dalton had talked her into buying it and the clear pearl-white silk with the thinnest layer of chiffon falling loosely over it somehow always reminded her of a wedding dress. With all her shattered dreams of marriage she had never felt she could put it on after Dalton’s death, not even when she had been engaged to Brumby. It just didn’t feel right. But today it did, she noted with a slightly accelerating heart rate.
The dress clung to her upper body right down to her waist, failing to be off-the-shoulder by a few inches as some hint of a short sleeve clung to the curve of her shoulder, thus creating a perfect oval that went right around her bust. From her hips the long, wide skirt fell right to the floor, swinging with every step she made while the light chiffon of the topmost layer was allowed to flutter just a little more than the silk that was underneath, sustained by a not too puffy petticoat. No additional decorations were found on the whole dress, no lace, no frills, no embroidery, nothing. Simple, just as Mac liked it. Around her neck she wore a simple tight pearl-white satin ribbon, with a tiny, round pearl brooch attached right in front. Besides that Mac didn’t wear any jewelry and her hair was simply tucked behind her ears. A small pearl-white purse, fitting shoes (comfortable ones!) and a pearl-white silk shawl in case the temperature dropped a little completed the outfit.
Mac closed her eyes and tried to steady her breathing. She’d never been this nervous going out with Harm. Not even after they had returned from Venice, when he’d properly asked her out on a date for the first time. But she somehow had the feeling this weekend would be special. He had sounded as if he wanted it to be.
It hadn’t been easy to get away. First, she’d had to get Pablo to stop trying to persuade her to go on a weekend trip to Martha’s Vineyard with her. Telling him that she had to see her sick grandmother in Santa Monica had finally made him back away. But she could tell he wasn’t amused at all. Not that she really cared, though. Then she’d had to try on the dress without being noticed by Jeannine, which was quite difficult as they had come so close that they always left their room doors open inside the apartment. Finally, she’d had to leave the campus with a traveling bag, dissuade Pablo from driving her to JFK and take a cab instead. The driver had taken her to Times Square where she’d had to find a quiet place to change. She decided on the Marriott’s restrooms, that choice leaving her the task, though, to go in in jeans and sweatshirt and leave again in full evening attire. Well, she’d survive the stares. And once outside, she’d see Harm.
Taking her traveling bag she left the restrooms, crossed the lobby high-headed, ignoring other people’s glances, and stepped onto the walkway outside, only to see a tall familiar figure standing about a hundred yards away, obviously looking for someone.
Continually shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Harm scanned the area for any signs of his favorite marine. He was beginning to sweat in his black tuxedo. But that was his own fault, because for once in his life Harmon Rabb had been early. Now he stood waiting for Mac, his eyes wandering until they suddenly locked on an unearthly apparition in white that had just emerged from the Marriott Hotel and was walking in Harm’s direction. ‘Fancy dress’ he had written. ‘Fairy’ was what he got. Unable to move Harm just stared as Mac approached him, with every fiber of her body impersonating the meaning of her name: princess.
It wasn’t until she had reached him that he woke from his daydream, letting out the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. “Hey,” was all he could choke out.
She smiled in return, her cheeks slightly flushed. “Hey...”
Taking her bag for her, he leaned in and brushed a shy kiss to her cheek. “You’re so beautiful, Marine,” he said softly.
Her flush deepened. “Thanks.” Then, relieved to find a topic that would ease the tension, she looked at him with a cocked eyebrow. “No uniform, Commander?”
He flashed her a quick flyboy-grin. “Nope. This is just you and me tonight, all private. Harmon and Sarah. And my parents later on.”
“Your parents?” she asked with a slight feeling of shock. Mac had never yet met Trish and Frank Burnett and she was anxious to make a good first impression.
Harm was chuckling slightly at her startled expression. “Hey, this isn’t a tribunal or examination or anything. Mom just keeps trying to talk me into bringing you over since I let slip that we might have gotten involved. And today turned out to be a lucky occasion as they’re in New York.”
Mac still felt a little uneasy and, to tell the truth, was just a little angry that he hadn’t told her beforehand. Thankfully, she was nicely dressed and didn’t have to worry about her appearance. ‘Okay, I’ll let it slip this time, squid,’ she thought, determined to let nothing spoil her weekend with her beloved sailor. So with an astonished smile she only asked: “Then why did you tell me to dress up so much?”
His grin showed that he was enjoying himself. “Because Mom and Frank invited us to something very special. Come on, jarhead, let’s get your stuff to the hotel and I’ll tell you on the way, okay?”
It was impossible to resist his good humor. Mac’s half-smile grew into a radiant grin. “Agreed.” Rising on her toes, she kissed him tenderly. They shared a warm glance and Mac let Harm take her arm to lead her to a cab.
The driver put Mac’s bag in the trunk and opened the back doors for her and Harm to get in. Then he sat behind the wheel and turned, smiling at the young couple. “Where to, ma’am, sir?”
“Uhm... Waldorf Astoria, please,” Harm said, feeling a little uneasy.
Mac’s head snapped in his direction, her eyes staring at him. “Harm, are you crazy?” she hissed when she had recovered from her initial shock.
Harm shook his head in silent amusement. “Calm down, Mac,” he replied in a soothingly low voice. “Frank’s some sort of a special guest there by now. He gets special conditions. For his stepson, too.” He felt Mac relax as he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand.
“Okay,” she smiled, obviously a little embarrassed. “But I guess you’re still paying a lot for the name, aren’t you?” she asked, tilting her head inquisitively to one side.
“You’re not supposed to know that,” he retorted, grinning, in an ‘end-of-conversation’ tone.
A smile on her lips, Mac suppressed an exasperated sigh. Sometimes this sailor beside her could be insufferable. But something deep inside her just loved to be courted that way, she had to admit to herself.
For a while they sat in silence, both inwardly laughing about the chaste distance they were keeping between them, while they looked out of the windows into different directions. Harm holding Mac’s hand in his lap was the only sign telling they belonged together.
‘This is ridiculous!’ Mac thought. ‘Why am I suddenly so shy?’ She felt like a young girl going out on her first date. Allowing herself a look at her partner, she felt that, unlike her first impression, his tuxedo had a similar effect on her as had his dress whites or mess dress. ‘I should get used to the concept that it’s the man inside who’s affecting me,’ she acknowledged with a smile.
Looking up to his face, Mac found Harm was watching her with amusement. “What?”
Before answering he gave her a critical survey from head to toe. “Just doing the same you did, jarhead,” he said, referring to her non-too-subtle scrutiny.
“Jerk!” she hissed, laughing, leaning to his shoulder and letting him slide his arm behind her back. “So, tell me, Professor, how did you plan to broaden my educational horizons?”
Harm smiled widely. “Have you ever been to the Met?”
“Oh my God...” Mac’s voice trailed off. Of course she hadn’t. An evening at the Metropolitan Opera had been something of a dream in her youth. And when she’d finally had the means to make it come true she’d never had the time or the right company.
“There’s more,” Harm enthusiastically continued. “It’s not ‘just’ an evening at the Met but it’s a premiere. Frank was invited and he asked me if you and I wanted to join him and Mom.”
Mac needed some moments to digest the news. Even though she had been a highly respectable woman for quite a few years now and, as a high-ranking officer, had been to many high society events, this was another dimension. It was a fairy tale. Sarah Mackenzie was going to stay at the Waldorf Astoria with her very own Prince Charming and was invited to a Metropolitan Opera premiere by his well-connected parents. She swallowed hard and Harm could see just a hint of fear shining in her eyes as she looked up to him.
“What is it, Mac?” he asked gently, cupping her face with one hand.
“I...” she swallowed again and then laughed, a little embarrassed about her behavior. Sobering she then said: “I... please, don’t laugh, Harm, but I feel I don’t belong there, you know, easy life of the rich and all that stuff. I’m a runaway teenager, ex-alcoholic, I have no connections whatsoever...”
“Stop it, Mac,” he ordered her softly, cutting her off before she could slip even deeper into her complexes. Putting his free hand to the other side of her face, he made her look straight into his eyes: “It’s who you are now that defines where you belong, Mac. You are the bravest woman I’ve ever met. You went through hell of your own free will, achieving what so many others don’t: you fought a victory over your addiction. You made the decision to set your life straight and joined the Corps. You followed that path with every ounce of strength you could possibly muster. You beat them all in law school. You built yourself a great career. It’s you who are second in rank after the admiral, not me. It’s you who are chief of staff at JAG. You make men turn their heads because you’re a stunning woman as well. And deep down you have an affectionate heart that enables you to be the truest of friends and the one woman I’ll ever truly love in my life. Now, tell me, who deserves to be graced by society’s attention?”
When she remained silent and shifted her head to look down, he turned her face up again with a gentle effort, locking his gaze with hers once again. “Tell me, Mac, who does?”
She swallowed, willing her tears down. “I do,” she said in a low voice.
Harm smiled. “Exactly. And it’s up to me to thank the Lord on my knees that I have your attention.”
She returned a teary smile. “You have far more than my attention, sailor, and you know it. Thanks, Harm,” she added very low, “Thanks for showing me who I am. With all those rich guys around at the college I tend to forget it.”
“I love you,” he simply replied and closed the distance between them, underlining his words with a passionate kiss.
When they arrived at the hotel Mac gathered her courage, straightened to full height and entered the lobby. She still felt out of place but Harm’s words had given her the strength she needed to will the feeling away. She was Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie, Chief of Staff to the Judge Advocate General, and people would show her the respect she deserved.
They received their keys, secrecy still banishing them to separate rooms, but Frank had obviously seen to it that Harm and Mac’s rooms had a connecting door.
They had barely enough time to put away Mac’s bag before they had to leave again to go to the opera house. It seemed Frank had spared no expense as a limousine drove up to the entrance when Harm asked for their ride. Opening the limo’s door for Mac, Harm helped her get in and then joined her inside the spacious vehicle.
“Aren’t we going to wait for your parents?” Mac asked.
“Frank had a business meeting earlier and Mom went with the ladies group to an exhibition. We’re to meet them there.”
“Uhm... Harm?”
“Yes?”
“What if anyone sees us? That could blow my cover.”
Harm frowned. “Yeah. I thought about that, too. But tell me, what are the odds? Who knows you? The students, right? They won’t go to a Met premiere without their families. How many of them live in the area? Maybe six or seven families. I’d say it’s highly improbable one of them shows up. So, who else knows you? Only the Gonzalezes. I’ve heard, they’re not really opera lovers. Maribel told me that much. If they go they do it for society. And I happen to know Juan and his wife are going to a Rotary dinner tonight. So what are the chances Maribel or Pablo or one of their cousins show up alone? I think we’re quite safe. And besides, I’m in civvies and thus less obtrusive.”
Mac nodded consent. It was a little risky but not too much. She’d be careful.
“So, now listen, my student,” Harm said with a sly smile as he pulled out a program. “Being invited by someone who’s in the city’s administration does have advantages. You get these for free even before you arrive at the opera house. Well...” he opened the program. “My mom tells me today’s artists are some of the finest to be had. I’ve already seen two of them on stage, actually. By the way, we’ll be seeing the premiere of ‘Tosca’ by Giacomo Puccini. Conductor: James Levine, main characters: Tosca, the opera singer: Angela Gheorghiu; Cavaradossi, the artist: Roberto Alagna; Scarpia, police chief of Rome: Samuel Ramey. Do you know the story?”
“No such thing as music in my youth, Harm,” she reminded him gently.
“Okay, listen, I’ll try to explain. Cavaradossi and Tosca are engaged. The story is set in Rome in the early nineteenth century. Royal troops have just destroyed the Republic of Rome that had been installed under the influence of Napoleon. Because of this, republicans must hide to escape capital punishment. Cavaradossi is painting a picture in a church when a republican friend asks him for help. The artist hides him in the church. Tosca comes to see her fiancé and he’s very secretive. She’s very jealous and thinks he’s hiding another woman from her. Scarpia shows up. He’s cruelly persecuting the republicans. Scarpia wants Tosca for himself so he manages to kindle her jealousy until she subconsciously lets something slip about the hideout. Cavaradossi is arrested for helping a criminal. That’s the first act. Follow me, Marine?”
“Yep. Go on.”
Harm silently wondered why he didn’t get any sharp replies. ‘Maybe she’s enjoying herself so much she’ll allow herself to let go of her Marine mode,’ he thought, hoping he was right. It would do her good.
“Okay,” he went on, “Second act. Scarpia invites Tosca over to dinner to ‘negotiate’ Cavaradossi’s release. But all he wants is her. Cavaradossi won’t tell anything in questioning. Scarpia has him brought up near to where he and Tosca eat so she can hear his screams while he’s tortured.”
“That son of a bitch!” Mac blurted out, surprising Harm quite a bit.
“Hey, don’t take it too hard, it’s only a play.”
“But I was thinking about how that poor woman must feel! My God, if I imagine hearing you scream in agony while I’m sitting in the adjoining room, having dinner with your enemy...”
Harm could tell Mac was agitated. Somehow he felt flattered by her emotional display. “I guess one would have to be sorry for my enemy after you dealt with him,” he retorted dryly. Mac cast him a quick satisfied smile and nodded consent.
“Anyway,” Harm continued, “Cavaradossi tells Tosca to be strong and not care about his physical pain. But being a loving woman she can’t and finally consents to give herself to Scarpia in return for her fiancé’s life.” He grinned. “Now, those were women! Nowadays you wouldn’t find any woman willing to do such a thing without negotiating alternatives.”
“I would,” Mac said quietly. Harm’s brows went up in astonishment. “For you, I would”, Mac repeated.
Harm was touched. “I wouldn’t let you,” he gently replied.
“Try and stop me,” Mac retorted, smiling. Instead of answering, Harm kissed her.
“Thanks, my ninja-girl.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Where were we? Ah, yes. Tosca consents, they take away Cavaradossi and Scarpia signs a secret paper that tells the executioners to fake the shooting in order to save his reputation. Tosca is to tell Cavaradossi how to act and then leave the city together with him unnoticed. She takes the valuable document and when Scarpia tries to embrace and kiss her, claiming his prize, sort of, she stabs and kills him. He’s yelling for help, dying, and she’s horrified at realizing what she’s done.”
“I wouldn’t be,” Mac declared, “He deserved it.”
“But you’re a soldier, Marine. We’re supposed to kill our enemies. She’s an opera singer. Imagine what this must have cost her.”
“I see your point, counselor. Go on.”
“Third act: Cavaradossi’s last night. Instead of requesting his last meal he begs for a pen and paper as his last grace and writes a letter to his beloved. Big aria. This scene always gives me the creeps, Mac,” he admitted. “I know how he must feel. It’s like going on a mission, not knowing if you’ll survive. Well, he’s still worse off, knowing he won’t. But still it’s very similar, I think. You gotta put all your feelings, all that’s been left unsaid, into one single letter in case you don’t make it back. I can’t count how many times I told you how I felt in my letters when we were flying off the Patrick Henry during the Kosovo crisis.”
Mac paled slightly as she imagined Harm writing to her in the knowledge he might never see her again. Instinctively she put her arms around him, holding him tightly for some moments until he relaxed as the dreadful memories faded.
“Go on,” she encouraged him, wanting to change the mood.
Harm sat up again and straightened his dinner jacket. “Okay. Time’s up and Tosca comes to see him, explaining their plan. He’s overwhelmed by the prospect of salvation and reunion with his fiancée. So when the execution is about to begin he and her play a tearful goodbye and lightheartedly await the proceedings. Problem is, Scarpia had never given the order not to shoot him. So when Cavaradossi falls, hit by the bullets, Tosca signals him to stay down and not move until all soldiers are away. Then she rushes to his side – and finds him dead. And just then, when she’s in the middle of her despair, soldiers come up to arrest her for the murder of Scarpia. Oh, I forgot to tell you this scene is set on top of the Castel Sant’Angelo, the prison of Rome which is situated on a very steep hill. So, Tosca does the only thing she can. She climbs onto one of the walls and jumps. End of opera.”
“Whoa,” Mac made, impressed. “That’s quite a plot. Promising huge amounts of emotion I’d say.”
“You got it,” he confirmed, grinning. Just as he put the program in his inside pocket, the limo slowed down and stopped right in front of the well-known façade of the Met.
To be continued...
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