‘Reaching for Sarah’s Soul’ – Part Three
Author: Daenar
Disclaimer: See Part One
This story is set in the middle of season 7, just after ‘Answered Prayers’
Chapter Seven
Jan. 25th
2317 ZULU
Beach behind the Burnett Residence
La Jolla, CA
Sarah Mackenzie was tense and afraid. Outwardly, no one would ever have suspected as much. Clad in a long white summer dress with long sleeves, she was resting in an old wooden sun chair, sunglasses and a broad straw hat protecting her from any malevolent UV rays, her whole demeanor as relaxed as could be. From where she was sitting, miles of white sand stretched in either direction and the steady coming and going of the Pacific’s waves was a breathtaking sight. As the hours had gone by, their constant roar had turned into a soothing background music, now and then interrupted by a seagull’s cry. The whole scenario breathed ‘peace’.
Yet, Sarah’s mind was in turmoil. For two hours and fourteen minutes, according to her internal clock that she had remembered having a few days ago, she had been sitting on this favorite spot of hers. Just like she had every day before... or so it seemed. However, one thing was different: today, there was no book or case file in her lap. There was a plain green cardboard folder, tied together with a green ribbon.
During the last ten days, Sarah had studiously avoided taking the folder out of the box Harriet had sent. There had been more than enough cases to study and books to peruse. Slowly, she was getting herself acquainted again with what had obviously been her life. When she had an especially good day, Sarah even managed to dig up fleeting images and other crumbs of information that the papers didn’t contain. Those tiny pieces of the big puzzle she would turn over and over in her mind and lock them away like she would a treasure. Slowly, very slowly, she was beginning to get an impression of the woman known as Lieutenant Colonel Mackenzie.
Yet, neither ‘Sarah’ nor ‘Mac’ seemed to be within reach. What little she did remember was always so strictly work-related that she was unable to get any personal information whatsoever out of it. And that was precisely why she dreaded opening the green folder that was now resting on her thighs. She had a distinct feeling that she would find information on either ‘Sarah’ or ‘Mac’ in it – but she feared that it might be like reading about just anybody. Some woman called Sarah. Having her personal life documented and yet not feeling connected to it...
Sarah doubted she would be able to stand the pain, should it come to that.
Of course, she had known that the day when she’d have to force herself to take this step would eventually come. Still, until today, she had had more than enough to learn from the twenty-plus cases Harriet had packed for her to read and she had been relieved to label them ‘priority’.
Almost all of them were cases she had investigated with or argued against Harm. At first, Sarah had wondered if Lieutenant Sims had expressly picked those files because she wanted to make some point. But after thinking about it, she had come to the conclusion that her profound friendship with Harm was apparently so special that everyone at JAG would know about it and was eager to restore it to them. And what’s more, Sarah had soon found that many of their cases had indeed been extraordinary ones that must have affected her personality in some way. So it would only seem natural that Harriet should choose them in order to get her friend re-acquainted with her true self.
Although she still didn’t know what being herself must have felt like, Sarah had learned a lot of details about her previous life, as well as about that of her friend and about how working together had tied them to each other. The saying “actions speak louder than words” had been confirmed many times over, and many times had she been astonished by the actions either of them had taken.
Take Russia. Of the first trip, the one Harm had mentioned, she had, of course, found no written reports. That had been a private crusade of Harm’s. But if that was the case, her following him must have been her private decision as well. Sarah had dismissed any questions that arose from this conclusion, scheduling them to be asked at some later time – until she had come across an espionage trial she had prosecuted against a commander who was murdered before the findings. Harm had been in Russia at the same time, helping to revise Russian military law and had ended up investigating a Russian colonel in Chechnya. Not only had she eventually found out that both their cases were related – no, she had flown across the Atlantic and had followed him thousands of miles across the country, right into a war zone, with no obvious reason as to why she should have done it.
As Harm had told her, they had ended up saving President Putin’s life – and that of Harm’s brother Sergei, too. But this wasn’t what troubled her most. What was beginning to drive her crazy was the nagging doubt that it required deeper feelings than just friendship to induce anyone into taking such a step. Twice.
Then, there was this remarkable case about a police officer stalking her. It had been Harm who had come up with a plan to stop him. And it had been Harm who had come after her and had saved her when things had threatened to unravel.
She had swallowed heavily when she had come across her own court-martial. To learn that she had been accused of having shot her husband, and that her ex-boyfriend was a superior officer with whom she had been guilty of fraternization... If it hadn’t been for Harm’s ardent defense, she doubted the outcome would have been as favorable as it had been.
Even more surprised, she had found out a few days later that she herself had cleared Harm of murder charges as well, the year before her own trial. He had escaped from the brig – only to seek shelter with her, of all people, although she hadn’t even been working at JAG at the time.
Sarah had read and read and read – about lunatic doctors on submarines beneath the Arctic ice, about Jumbo Jets being kidnapped and directed into North Korean airspace, about Vietnam veterans saving their wives from dying by trusting the vision of a dead military chaplain, about Israeli ministers awaiting a donated heart and receiving that of a Palestinian terrorist. Either Harm or she had come to play the hero’s part in many of those scenarios. Reading about herself in a novel, she would have sneered at the author’s wild fantasy – as well as about the implausible yearlong ill-fated romance he seemed to have planned out for his two main characters.
Yet, she knew that what she had read was true. And subsequently, almost all questions that might arise from any of those files came down to one single phrase in the end: how on Earth could it be possible that there had never been anything but platonic caring between her and Harmon Rabb, Jr.? Or had there...?
It was with a considerable amount of dread that Sarah had had to acknowledge to herself to what extent she apparently depended on Harm’s presence. During those horrible first days after waking from the coma, he had always been there for her, no matter whether he had been physically present or not. He had been her firm rock to lean on. The one constant in a life that was floating in continuous motion. By putting some distance in between them, Sarah had wanted to prove to herself that she could stand on her own. As it turned out, she could – but it hurt far more than she would have imagined. She had no idea if it was out of fear of being left alone to face her situation or if there was something else to the picture, but there was no denying it: she was missing Harm dreadfully.
His smile that had the power to warm her from inside. His voice that had the power to soothe her anxieties when they threatened to overwhelm her. His sense of humor that had the power to help her relax and take one step at a time. His whole wonderful self.
Her best friend on Earth. She still didn’t remember knowing him – but she had no doubt that he had always been that to her. And she couldn’t help wondering why he hadn’t been more. Or had he...?
As the days had passed, this question had become predominant in her mind. While reading the cases and her personnel file, gradually putting together the puzzle of who Sarah Mackenzie was in professional life – how she worked, the way she judged this case or that situation, the way she argued, fought, reacted – Sarah’s conviction kept growing persistently that Harmon Rabb’s life was tied far more closely to her own than he wanted to admit, for whatever reason. And if that be the case, she needed his story to complete hers. The full, unedited version. But how the devil would she get him to open up to her? Just by telling him, “Hey, by the way, I need every detail of your private life to fill in the blanks of mine.” Sure.
After spending entire nights brooding over the dilemma, Sarah had finally arrived at the conclusion that there was only one thing she could attempt to do: be his friend the way he wanted her to. By the time they trusted each other unconditionally again – assuming they really had, in the past – he might be ready to give her what she needed: a friend’s outside view of her, right down to the last detail of what made her the person she was in other people’s eyes. ‘In his eyes,’ her heart added.
Staring motionlessly at the blue-green waves, Sarah’s thoughts were incessantly circling around her friend. There was no doubt that he cared deeply for her. The latest proof of his attachment was how he had not only respected her wish to pass some time alone, but had even provided her with her current accommodation.
To call it simply ‘accommodation’ would mean to do her hosts severe injustice. Patricia and Frank Burnett were dear, caring people who outdid themselves providing her with each and everything she might need. Initially, Sarah had wondered a little why people as obviously rich as the Burnetts would have boarding guests in the first place. But she had soon found out why. Mrs. Burnett seemed to love having her around, and not just because it might keep her from falling into the wealthy-housewife routine. As a matter of fact, she seemed overjoyed to have someone to wait upon, to show around her impressive art gallery, to engage in animated conversation about almost everything – from gardening to world politics.
However, what Sarah appreciated most was that she and her husband were indeed very discreet people. Mrs. Burnett had told her that Mr. Rabb had called before her arrival, informing her that Ms. Mackenzie wished to be left alone most of the time. Of course she would see to it that Ms. Mackenzie should find all the necessary time and quiet she was looking for. Still, should she need anything or should she just feel in the mood for some company, Ms. Mackenzie would always be very welcome to seek her out. So, when Sarah had asked for a sun chair to take to the beach, Mr. Burnett himself had shown her his favorite spot and had set up the old, comfortable chair for her, not once attempting to ask why she preferred the sandy solitude to their beautiful terrace.
All in all, Sarah was feeling reassured and very much at ease – except when her thoughts drifted to the mysterious green cardboard folder that might hold the key to her personality. So it was with considerable trepidation that she now drew a deep breath and pulled the knot open. ‘God, please, let me feel something. Anything. Don’t let this be just another file to me.’
She gave a low cry of amazement at the sheer number of documents, papers and photos the folder held. Right on top lay a personal note, addressed to her.
Ma’am,
I don’t mean to intrude but when I dusted your apartment I found this in the drawer of your nightstand. I know you said you didn’t want anything personal, but I thought this might contain some essential parts of your life, ma’am. So I took the liberty of sending it along with the rest. I’m not sure, though, what you’ll find for I only opened it briefly to put my note to you inside.
We all miss you very much, ma’am. Maybe this is why I’m being so bold as to ignore your wishes. Please, get well soon and don’t hold a grudge against...
...Harriet
‘No, you’re right, Lieutenant,’ Sarah silently addressed her far-away friend, sighing. ‘I need to do this. Thank you for choosing to be straightforward.’
She began to thumb through the impressive stack of papers, careful not to let them be blown away by the breeze. The first half was all bureaucratic, she noted with relief as well as disappointment. After reading the documents carefully and trying to memorize as much as possible, Sarah now knew her address, the size of her apartment, the rent, how much she spent on telephone, internet and cable expenses, and that her apartment was equipped with a fireplace that seemed to save her quite a lot of heating. Two photos that came with the contract showed the apartment in its bare state. But even like this it was obvious that she was living quite agreeably.
Then, she had learned all about her medical insurance, her social security, the Big Sister Program and her little ‘sister’ Chloe Madison of whom she had also found a picture attached to the documents. After that, to her surprise, she had found out she drove a Corvette. She would have considered herself more a Jeep person – but then, who exactly was ‘herself’?
Eventually, the stack of papers came to an end. Sarah tucked the last document underneath the others and found herself confronted with a large quantity of photos. Most of the people displayed on them she already knew, thanks to the files and based on what Harm had told her. And where she was unsure about whom she was looking at, all she needed to do was turn the picture over and read the comment she had written on the backside.
The variety of occasions present in the stack surprised her a little. Apparently, her colleagues had become kind of a surrogate family to her. She found pictures of the Roberts’s wedding, little AJ’s christening, Christmas at the office, Christmas at someone’s home, a party she couldn’t really place (the only remarkable thing being that Bud was wearing an apron when everyone else was wearing jacket and tie) – and time and time again Harm and her together. Hunting for Easter Eggs with little AJ. Running at full speed, apparently trying to beat each other. Dancing – Harm in mess dress, her in a black evening dress with long, elegant gloves. Both in their dress uniforms – hers blue, his white – standing at attention. Both leaning against the railing at some carrier’s fantail, dressed in khakis and looking relaxed and at ease.
More than once, a smile lit up Sarah’s features as she came across yet another display of a family-like circle of friends. And she was all the more sorry that she felt like she was seeing everything for the first time ever. No matter how hard she tried to remember – this didn’t feel like her life. But at least she didn’t look at herself anymore as if she were looking at some stranger. Seeing her face in the mirror each day had led her to accept that the tall handsome woman in the pictures was indeed herself.
Putting away one last picture that showed Harm with his then new godson on his arms, his smile as gorgeous as she had ever seen it, Sarah had reached the last object the green folder contained: a big brown envelope. She tried to ignore the pain that feeling so unconnected to what she had found was causing her. At least she knew for sure now that she had quite a few dear friends – friends she could even call her family. If she didn’t have herself, she could at least count on their compassionate affection. Sarah suspected that Mac wouldn’t have liked being comforted too much, but right now, she admitted to herself that she was grateful for it.
With a decided sigh, she opened the envelope. Until now, the folder hadn’t revealed any skeletons in her closet. So this last one shouldn’t be too hard.
She was astonished to see it contained more photos – all of her and a man she didn’t know. From a photo that showed him in dress whites, she deduced he was a naval officer as well – and when she saw that these dress whites were different from those she had seen on Harm, or the admiral, or Bud previously, she remembered what Harm had told her about that Australian she had apparently been seeing for some time. Mic Brumby. This had to be him.
He looked nice, she conceded, but where Harm’s self-confidence was becoming, his seemed just a little arrogant. Well, it hadn’t lasted, Harm had told her. As she was thumbing through the stack of pictures of her and Brumby, Sarah thought she knew why. However, her breath caught in her throat when on one picture, she once again spotted Bud in that strange apron. And taking a closer look, she understood that she and Brumby were... cutting a cake together! A cake with an American and an Australian flag. Biting her trembling lower lip, Sarah skimmed the following pictures for one that would allow her a glimpse at her left hand.
Good God.
She had been engaged to that man! Once again, fury began to well up inside her. Again Harm had concealed decisive facts from her. ‘Why?’ she asked herself, feeling a sharp pang of disappointment. After a moment, though, her conscience scolded her sharply. ‘Give that poor man the benefit of a doubt. Maybe you were hurting a lot about the broken relationship and he wanted to spare you from reliving that pain.’ Sarah took a deep breath to settle herself, feeling her fury dissipate. Yes, this had to be it. Anyway, she would ask him about it when she’d next see him. An engagement wasn’t something you’d take as a given and didn’t ask questions about.
Turning her attention back to what she was holding in her hands, Sarah became aware that there was a small envelope right underneath the pictures. Upon closer examination, it became evident that it was a letter that had twice traveled around the world, taking a few wide detours on the Australian continent before being returned to its sender in Washington: herself. ‘Recipient’s current address unknown,’ she read. Curious, she opened it. The letter dated back three months. Feeling her apprehension grow and not really knowing why, Sarah began to read.
Dear Mic,
half a year has passed since your departure. I am sorry I haven’t been able to make up my mind and write any earlier. But I just couldn’t. I was hurting and I was angry with you. Trying to clear the air in that state of mind would have come to nothing.
I have accepted your decision and I have come to believe you made the right choice. It hurt a lot arriving at this conclusion but now I have made my peace with it and am ready to move on. So, theoretically, we could just leave it at that and let the whole matter rest. Yet, I feel I owe you an explanation – as far as I can explain it to myself – as to why ‘we’ didn’t work. Only now that I have returned from a four-months TDY I that served in Indonesia, can I approach this subject without rancor or regret.
You asked me a question when you were leaving. You wanted to know if I was begging you to stay because I wanted you in my life or just because I was afraid of being left alone. I couldn’t admit it back then, not even to myself. But you were right. I was indeed afraid, dreadfully afraid of being alone again. Somehow I think I knew even then. Yet, I tried to make myself believe it were something else.
I am ashamed of how I treated you, Mic. And, please, believe me when I say that in a way, I really did love you. You are a good man, and you deserve someone who really loves you for who you are – not for the things you offer that she might have been longing for.
I know you believe there is something between Harm and me. I’ll admit that my reaction to him being lost at sea would probably lead anyone to suspect there was. A woman who is about to pledge her life to one man the next day isn’t supposed to cry and be so utterly distraught thinking about another. And naturally, the fact that you called him before your departure because you suspected I would be with him, and that you actually found me there, didn’t help reverse the picture you had gotten of the situation.
Maybe at times, even Harm and I ourselves don’t quite know where we stand with each other, but I can tell you that we didn’t fall into each other’s arms the moment you were gone. Hard as it may be for anyone to believe: Harm and I are and always were nothing more than friends, whereas I loved and was ready to marry you. Still, I have never had a friend that was closer or dearer to me than Harm is. Maybe, from this point of view, my reaction to his plane crash is understandable.
As I said, the situation between Harm and me is just the same as always now. So, if I tell you that I think the choice you made to cancel the wedding was the right one, please don’t think that’s because I am now hoping to get together with Harm instead. This is not so.
True, Harm’s insisting on taking the last flight back from the carrier, knowing he might be flying into bad weather, just because he wanted to be there for the wedding, might seem like an admission of feelings other than friendship that he just never dared to voice. But as you can see, it wasn’t that at all. Still, the dreadful hours praying that the search teams would find him did make things clearer to me. Not immediately, but in the long run. At that moment, my feelings for him ran deeper than they did for you – and that simply isn’t a ground one should base a lifelong commitment on. I am glad we didn’t. The events of that night saved me from settling for something that would have made neither me nor you happy in the end. There was no other man involved – there just wasn’t enough involvement with the man who wanted me.
I only hope that someday you will meet the woman who will be able to give you all the love you would have wished I had for you.
Be safe, Mic. As a friend, I will still be there for you, should you ever need me.
Always,
Sarah
It was nearly half an hour after she had finished reading the letter for the third time that Sarah Mackenzie could make up her mind, reach for her crutches and return to the house. Back in her room, she immediately lay down, hoping a little sleep would set her mind at ease and restore her emotional strength.
She would need all of it, digesting what she had just learned.
Chapter Eight
Jan. 26th
1828 ZULU
Burnett Residence
La Jolla, California
Trish Burnett asked herself yet again if she was doing the right thing. She had been battling her conscience for the better part of the last ten days. Eventually she had come to the conclusion that this was something she just had to do.
She knew well that she had promised her son not to reveal her identity and her connection with him. She had even ridded her house of every picture or object that might have tipped her guest off. But seeing how much the poor woman was suffering from the situation and how she was fighting her anxieties all by herself, had long since deprived Trish of a good night’s sleep.
Although he had never admitted to anything, Trish knew Harm loved Sarah Mackenzie and that he was at the verge of breaking from the burden he was shouldering trying to help her. His voice, when he had first called her, had been so unlike his normal self Trish had been shocked. Yet, she had been willing to respect his wish to stay anonymous. Mac knew Trish had a son, but this was it.
It had been knowing Mac herself that had made Trish reconsider her decision. She had always been very curious to get a glimpse at the woman that held her commitment-shy son’s heart captive like she did. Harm had warned her not to get a wrong impression of her, claiming Mac was far from her true self right now. And yet, Trish was sensitive enough to distinguish between Mac’s anxiety and the strong personality that lay beneath it.
Apart from being an exceptionally beautiful woman, Mac was an impressive person to be acquainted with. Trish was thrilled to see to whom Harm had devoted his heart. And she had soon been able to read between the lines that – be it old or recent – a flame akin to that in Harm’s soul was burning within Mac, too. Trish felt she was unable to sit by and just watch as these two were slowly drowning in despair, about the situation as well as about being apart from each other.
Silently vowing to herself that she wouldn’t chicken out and ignoring her conscience that reminded her of her promise to Harm, Trish now carefully neared the figure that was sitting on a barstool at the kitchen counter, terry-robe-clad shoulders slumped, cheeks very pale, listlessly stirring the cocoa in the oversized cup in front of her. Trish had witnessed a lot of grief within the young woman, but today, Mac looked truly done. Something seemed to add to her already troubled state of mind, and Trish swore she’d ease that haunted look in those beautiful eyes of hers.
As gently as possible, she placed her hand on Mac’s shoulder. Yet, the younger woman jumped and spilled a little of the warm, brown liquid from her cup.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Burnett,” she immediately apologized, looking like a deer caught in the headlights. A reaction as strong as this only reaffirmed Trish’s suspicion that something was indeed very, very wrong.
“Never mind, dear,” she said with a soothing smile, reaching for a Kleenex and wiping the cocoa away with a swift brush. Then, she settled down on the stool beside her guest, examining her more closely. The young woman had dark circles under her eyes and was indeed frighteningly pale. “Are you unwell this morning?” Trish asked, concerned.
A feeble smile lit up Mac’s face. “Just lack of sleep, nothing serious.”
“Is there anything we can do to make you more comfortable?” Trish inquired, knowing full well this wasn’t the cause of her insomnia but she wanted to get her to talk.
“No, thank you, ma’am,” Mac answered quickly, apparently eager to set her hostess at ease. “I’m just dealing with a few problems. I guess worrying too much kept me from sleeping last night. But I was planning on returning to bed after I had finished this cup. Cocoa often works wonders.”
Trish smiled. “Yes, it does. However...” She hesitated but then thought ‘To hell with it!’ and took the plunge. “Sometimes, talking about what’s troubling you is even more effective. So if you need someone to just listen – I’m here.” She fixed her gaze to Mac’s, hoping she would be able to see in her eyes just how much she wanted her to open up.
After a few seconds of pondering the issue in her heart, Mac – to Trish’s infinite relief and joy – took the offered hand. “Mine is a very complicated case,” she began in a low voice. “I don’t know if you’ll really...”
“Just try me,” Trish cut in gently.
Mac smiled a little. “Okay... thank you.” She sighed, looking into her cup again. When she spoke, her voice was very low. “I don’t quite know where to start so if I mix things up too much, just ask.” Trish only nodded. Mac went on, “Well, to make a long story short, it’s not an accident I’m recovering from. In case Commander Rabb didn’t tell you: I’m a fellow officer of his and we both got shot while rescuing his brother, my adopted sister and our godson from their kidnappers.”
Trish felt her heart stop beating. “Ha...” she cleared her throat, to cover up her slip just as well as because her voice had suddenly failed its service. “Commander Rabb was hurt, too? He never told me what exactly had happened. Good God, I might have come close to...” Stopping herself just in time, Trish drew a shaky breath and tried to look far more at ease than she felt. She wasn’t supposed to appear this shaken by some news about a casual acquaintance.
Yet, the moment she met Mac’s eyes, Trish knew she had crossed the line. The young woman had tensed and fear was shining in her eyes – fear of other people being dishonest with her, as Trish could easily read on her features.
With obvious strain, Mac inquired quietly, “You know about my situation, don’t you? Commander Rabb told you. And you’re not just some friend. Am I right?”
Sighing deeply, Trish didn’t resist the urge anymore to make physical contact. Surprising her conversation partner, she placed her hand on Mac’s and squeezed it tenderly. “Please, don’t be angry with my son, darling. All he ever thinks about is keeping you safe, physically and emotionally. He was so afraid to let you fight this on your own. So he enlisted my help, making me promise I wouldn’t say a thing. I know Harm can be stubborn and over-protective, but if you knew just how much he depends on you as his friend, you’d understand why he does what he does. Please,” Trish begged again, “Don’t hold his disposition against him.”
Mac just stared at her, aghast, never trying to free her hand. “So you’re...”
“Former Mrs. Harmon Rabb, Sr., yes,” Trish finished her sentence with an apologetic smile. “But, please, call me Trish, will you?”
Swallowing, Mac nodded. “Call me Sarah,” she answered, her voice uneven. “Seems your son knows me very well indeed,” she continued, staring into her cup again as if she could find some answers in her private cocoa oracle. “He knew I’d never have come here had I known who you are.”
Trish felt a slight sting but chose to ignore it, knowing the statement hadn’t been directed against her. Deciding the issue had been pushed over the edge anyway, she asked, “I’m glad you did, though. Has your time here helped to clear anything for you yet?”
Sighing, Mac finally took a sip from her cup and closed her eyes as she let the soothing drink run down her gullet. When she looked at Trish again, the older woman could see her gaze was clearer and more relaxed. Mac had obviously made her peace with the situation.
“Yeah, actually I think I made quite a bit of headway,” she explained. “I learned a lot of things about my career and about quite a few cases I worked on. I’ve started reacquainting myself with the law and I find I remember more than I thought I would.” Her voice turned a little defeated when she went on. “It’s just my private life that I can’t seem to get a grip on. Sarah, the Colonel, is present. Sarah, the woman, isn’t. And the few things I did find out are confusing the hell out of me...” She let her voice trail off.
“For instance?” Trish probed gently. She had a distinct feeling she was getting close to the bottom of her guest’s current state of mind.
As if to steady herself, Mac drew a deep breath. Her gaze had turned frightened again. “Well, I guess you might know some about it as the affair affected Harm big time,” she began, clearly uneasy. “You know where Harm was going when he went down at sea last May, right?”
Trish closed her eyes and waited for the stab of pain to dissipate. She remembered clearly getting the news of his downed plane, just like she had received them 32 years prior to that day... “Your wedding,” she replied in a low voice when she felt she could breathe again. “Do you remember anything of that night?”
Mac shook her head. “No, I don’t” she murmured, pain ringing in her words, “Not a single thing. But I wish I did. Then maybe this letter would start making some sense.”
Only now did Trish become aware of the sheet of paper lying on Mac’s lap. With a questioning glance, she tentatively reached for it and Mac nodded, allowing her to take it. With considerable trepidation, Trish began to read, but the feeling soon turned into relaxation and understanding as the pieces suddenly began to fall into place in her mind.
When she had finished, she handed the worn paper back to Mac. “I can see how this must make you uneasy,” she commented quietly, supplying the opening she hoped Mac would use to inquire after anything she might want to know.
“Trish, can I ask you something?” Mac promptly came forth.
“I don’t know if I’ll be able to answer but sure, go ahead,” Trish encouraged her.
Mac took another sip of her cocoa. “There’s one thing that really doesn’t make any sense at all,” she began and with a smile, Trish spoke up.
“Your relationship with my son.”
Actually blushing slightly, it was Mac’s turn to smile. “Is it that obvious?”
“Honey, it’s the one thing I’ve been trying to figure out ever since he mentioned you for the first time,” Trish told her, sobering a little. “If you feel that this... whatever it is... might be the key to some essential parts of your personal history, I’d say your assumption is absolutely right. I don’t have many details, but I do know my son pretty well – he’s an emotional carbon copy of his father. So, what little I can tell you is this:
“Harm cares for you in a way I’ve seldom seen him care about anyone. It’s obvious that the same goes for you. The two of you seem to have formed a bond so unique that you simply can’t live without it. You’d do anything not to lose each other. Including consenting to see the other marry someone else, holding his or her personal happiness dearer than your own.”
“And yet, Harm told me we were never in love...” Mac mused tonelessly, obviously stunned beyond recognition.
Knowing she was about to go farther than might be healthy, Trish felt she couldn’t resist the urge to tell what she felt was nothing but the honest-to-God truth. “No, I’m sure those weren’t his words,” she contradicted quietly, watching the other woman’s reaction closely. “I know they weren’t because the answer he supplies whenever I touch the topic is very similar to what you said, but not quite the same. Still, the words never change. Whenever I ask him, ‘Harm, are you and Mac in love with each other?’ he’s sure to answer, ‘We were never lovers, if that’s what you’re asking,’ and then he’ll consider the matter as closed.”
The little color that had previously returned to Mac’s face had drained from it again. “That’s just what he said,” she whispered. Then, squaring her shoulders, she steadied her voice and asked, “Trish, was Harm in love with me before... this?”
With a sad smile, Trish lifted her shoulders and let them drop again, sighing. “Darling, I don’t know for sure. He isn’t exactly... forthcoming with information about his feelings. As far as I know, that character trait has caused the two of you problems more often than any normal friendship would have survived. But if you ask me, as his mother, I can only say yes, my son loved you from the bottom of his heart. And still does.”
To her astonishment, Trish saw tears well up in Mac’s eyes, but before she could ask for the reason, Mac explained of her own free will. “Right from the start of this ordeal, when Harm was there for me all the time, I knew I was in danger of falling for him,” she said, her voice barely audible. “I tried not to, because I was afraid any additional emotional stress would throw me off track in full. But I couldn’t help it...” She swallowed. “I’m in love with your son, Trish,” she admitted. “And when I came across that letter it appeared to me as obvious as anything that there must have been something between the two of us. But his whole demeanor makes it very clear now that he doesn’t consider me the woman he may once have loved.”
Mac looked so helpless that Trish felt like crying herself but she gulped it down, waiting for Mac to elaborate. She did, her voice lower still. “Looking back, I think I even noticed it during our very first conversation after I came to. I couldn’t place the feeling then but... It was like he laid something to rest. Like he tore that other woman from his heart, knowing I wasn’t her anymore.” A lone tear escaped her eye and made its way down her cheek. Yet, she apparently wanted to keep the upper hand about her feelings. “I know he’s still my friend and believe me, I’ll be forever grateful for that. But... to think that there might have been so much more... and now there never will...”
Physical and emotional exhaustion were taking their toll on her composure and finally, the already feeble façade broke down completely. All Trish could do was pull Mac into a firm embrace and hold her tight as all her built-up rage and grief culminated and gave way to bitter tears, breaking through with an irresistible force. Pressing her lips shut to keep her own emotions at bay, Trish allowed Mac to cry herself out to the verge of collapsing.
‘Dear God, let my children find their way back to each other,’ Trish prayed fervently, knowing that right now, chances were feeble at best that her wish be granted.
Jan. 29th
2357 ZULU
Red Rock Mesa
Arizona
With a smile that he knew was a little too confident, Harm pulled the rented SUV to a halt, jumped out and rounded the car to help Mac get out with her crutches. She didn’t need them all the time anymore but he had insisted she bring them because the ground was uneven around here. And to have something that might convey some security. He felt she needed every last bit of it.
Three days ago, his mother had called him and had told him that Mac had found out about where he had placed her for her little vacation. He had dreaded meeting her because he had feared she would be furious and let him feel it. But to his surprise, his mother had told him that Mac wasn’t furious at all but instead begged him to meet them and take her back to where the whole horrible affair had started. Relieved but still afraid, he had caught the first flight out of D.C.
Indeed – Mac had appeared genuinely glad to see him. Yet, there was something to her appearance that left him unsettled. She seemed more fragile and would often look at him with wide, sad eyes when she thought he wouldn’t notice. Her attitude towards him kept changing back and forth between happy that he was with her and sadly resigning to her fate, apparently considering it final. Right now, calling her ‘Sarah’ didn’t seem so very unusual anymore – true, she was still strong, but at the same time more female than he’d ever seen her. And the way she seemed to unconsciously seek his closeness made it harder every day to keep his emotional distance.
It was almost as if she were hoping to... but no. She had made it clear she wanted to stay focused on fighting her amnesia – without being sidetracked by additional emotional strain. Although it was hard, he agreed wholeheartedly. After all – wasn’t this exactly what he was trying to achieve by drawing back? To really give her the chance to rediscover herself. The quicker she got to that point, the better – and the moment she would, he’d be the first to confess anything and everything that was on his mind.
Besides, Harm didn’t trust himself that, if he let her come close as long as she was still trying to redefine her character, he’d always look out for traces of ‘Mac’ in ‘Sarah’ – and she was sure to notice. Wouldn’t the eternal frustration of thinking she wasn’t whom he wanted her to be prove lethal to their love in the end?
“So this is where it happened?” Mac shook him from his reverie. She was leaning on her crutches, letting her eyes slowly sweep across the big open space where she’d been shot.
“Yeah,” he answered, just a little hoarse as the memories she was searching for invaded his own head instead. He motioned for her to follow him and hoping his feelings wouldn’t overwhelm him, he pointed out the exact spot she had been lying in.
Mac carefully got down on her knees and then lay down, as if she were trying to let the perspective help her remember. However, after a few minutes of intense concentration, she reached out for him to help her up again.
He didn’t even need to ask if she remembered. When he met her eyes, the defeat showing in them threatened to choke him. He gently brushed a little dust off her blue dress without saying anything. Then, he wordlessly showed her the cave they had found Sergei, Chloe and AJ in.
It was then that the first tears rose to her eyes. “I don’t even remember ever coming here... and you said it was one of my uncle’s favorite spots...”
“Oh, Sarah, I’m so sorry,” he breathed, her grief tearing him apart. Yet, he refrained from taking her into his arms as he was yearning to. He was sure she wouldn’t have appreciated if he picked up on her momentary weakness.
Silent, they made their way back to the SUV and headed for a nearby motel. Never letting show that he had noticed, Harm saw and heard all too well that Mac was crying silently during the whole ride. Crying over yet another shattered hope to find a thread that would lead her back to herself. But if even returning to the roots of evil didn’t help, what on Earth would? Harm gripped the wheel tighter in suppressed rage.
Once arrived at the quiet little motel, Harm walked her up to her door, wanting to make sure she was well settled. But just as he was about to bid her goodnight, turn away and leave for his own room, she startled him by pulling him into a tight hug and burying her face on his chest, still sobbing a little from time to time.
Her sudden physical closeness threatened to unravel his resolve to stay away. Hesitantly, but unable to hold himself back, he put his arms around her and caressed her back, burying his nose in her hair.
Without her sense of timing, Harm had no idea just how long they had stood there, never uttering a syllable, just holding on to each other as they would to dear life. Eventually however, Mac pulled back slightly.
Harm let his arms drop. “You okay?” he asked, carefully studying her features.
She swallowed. “I guess.”
He noticed she still had her arms around his neck and didn’t give any indication of wanting to take them away. Unsure what he should do, and silently savoring this small reminder of his happiest hour, four weeks ago, when he’d been just as close to her, he stayed where he was, motionless.
Seconds turned into minutes and he felt himself tense under the scrutiny of her huge, dark eyes. So familiar and yet so far away from all that had ever been between them. Unable to stand the situation any longer, he cleared his throat. “Uh, I guess I should...”
“Stay,” she cut in, her voice a begging whisper.
Aghast, he was still desperately searching for the right answer when he suddenly became aware of just how close she had moved to him. Cold fear and burning desire shot through his veins at the same time, threatening to paralyze him. If he didn’t react quickly, his would be a hopeless case.
“Mac...” he croaked out very low, his eyes glued to hers, feeling he was losing himself in that incredible humid brown warmth.
A low moan escaped his throat when she silenced him effectively by fully closing the distance. His knees threatened to buckle when he felt the fullness of her velvety lips on his, grazing, probing, teasing...
Time froze as a myriad of thoughts and emotions flooded his mind. His Sarah was seeking closeness. Was offering him the very physical contact he’d been yearning for ever since their oh so short hour of mutual happiness. Yet, this wasn’t her. What if he gave in and she turned out a different person altogether? The changes the last weeks had caused in her were considerable already. Would it really be her he committed to – or would it be the memory of the second woman he had lost forever?
This was about Mac – and yet it was Diane all over again. Only now did he remember just how heart-wrenching and painful losing her had been. Had he lost Mac just as he had lost her? Or would he lose Sarah eventually if she broke under the emotional baggage he was carrying along?
All these thoughts had taken no more than a split second to make themselves known in his conscious. However, their impact was nothing compared to the sheer force with which the feel of her lips on his was pulling him away from everything he had sworn he’d cling to.
Before he even had the time to notice what he was doing, his arms went around her body, frantically pulling her close as his lips started to mimic her actions. He was reveling in the achingly beautiful awareness that finally, finally, she was where she belonged: close to him. And he was yearning to feel her as close as they could possibly get to each other.
It would have been so easy.
It would have been so wrong.
As quickly as it had started, the kiss was broken, and he hurriedly stepped back, as if the distance he put between them might keep his emotions at bay.
“Harm,” she whispered, shaken, her eyes wide and terrified.
Swallowing heavily and resisting the urge to scream, he only shook his head, slowly, sadly.
“Why?” she asked, her voice threatening to break.
“You know the reason,” he choked out, turning around and escaping to the solitude of his room before he could destroy their last hopes of ever regaining what they’d once so briefly shared.
Chapter Nine
Feb. 13th
1728 ZULU
JAG Headquarters
Falls Church, VA
Sarah felt she liked green. It suited her well. But still, this uniform felt unfamiliar. It was as if she were wearing some sort of costume. Although she could tell that to the people around here, the sight of her clad in green obviously was a familiar one that they seemed to welcome heartily, Sarah felt out of place. She would never have come if she hadn’t known this was something she had to get over with if she wanted to keep the door to her former life open in the long run.
Luckily military protocol seemed to be something that came naturally to her. When she had tried to remember last night how one was supposed to behave in a military institution, she had all but panicked because she hadn’t had a clue. Shaking, she had called Harm, and he’d once again been as good as gold. He’d come over and had rehearsed with her until at some point, the perfect execution of an about-face had come back to her – and with it the instinctive knowledge of whom to salute and whom to expect a greeting from. She had still been terribly afraid of accompanying her friend to headquarters this morning but at least she was quite sure that if people didn’t ask too many questions, she would be able to conceal that she wasn’t really Colonel Mackenzie – that she was just Sarah. And if everything went well, this visit would be the only one required for an indefinite time, maybe forever.
After having met with quite a few friendly faces (the Roberts’ whom she had already gotten to know quite well during the last two weeks since she was ‘home’ to Washington, the African-American commander she recognized as Sturgis Turner, the admiral’s yeoman, Petty Officer Tiner...) Sarah had been admitted to Admiral Chegwidden’s office to be given her final orders. This was to be the very last thing she’d ever do in this office, she had sworn to herself. Even if she somehow found her way back to being an officer, she doubted she would have liked to work at JAG again. All the history of her many years of work here seemed to loom around every corner, waiting to jump at her. If the military was still her life, she would be serving somewhere else. Starting afresh was what this was all about.
Starting afresh and keeping her distance from Harm.
At first, after her weak moment that night in Arizona, Harm had seemed almost frightened whenever they were together. He had studiously avoided ever making eye contact – if he could – and still answered even more guardedly than before whenever she asked him something personal. A gap seemed to have opened between them that night and for quite some time Sarah had beaten herself up about it, knowing her hurting was self-inflicted. Yet, eventually she had noted that despite the awkward moment standing between them, things hadn’t really changed. Harm was still her friend, as reliable and loyal as ever. So if she’d just accept that whatever future they might have had was no more, she would in time be able to close this chapter and let it rest in peace.
Having Harm as a friend was something she learned to appreciate more and more each day. Sarah had gotten used to calling him whenever she felt like talking to someone. After a certain initial strain he had loosened up when talking with her, and the memory of Arizona seemed to fade into the background. They had taken up a habit of seeing each other every night. Harm would cook something for them (Sarah wondered why he always apologized – she thought that healthy cuisine of his was too good to be true), and then he’d tell her about his day, the cases he had worked on, the interviews he had conducted, the people he had met. She would fill him in on what she had studied and how her rehab was going on. After that, they’d just talk about whatever came to mind. Sarah was quite aware that deep inside, she still cherished certain hopes that one day they might move beyond the invisible boundary separating them, but keeping thoughts of the kind locked deep inside was hurting less from day to day.
A week ago, Harm had given her the details of Chegwidden’s offer to accept going into reserves as a drawback position for the time being. Thinking it through, she had agreed that it might be her best option. She had done a quick mental check of her financial situation and after finding it modest but secure, she had written the letter. Harm had delivered it the day after.
Stepping into her CO’s mahogany-furnished office this morning had been intimidating at first, but that impression had soon lessened. From how Chegwidden had looked at her all the time, Sarah had easily deduced that he was hurting about having to release her. Yet, his benevolent smile when he had ignored protocol and hugged her briefly before dismissing her had reassured her that he was obviously still convinced that she was doing the right thing. His low, “Take care, Sarah, and make sure you come back someday,” had told her just how close they’d apparently been.
Clearing out her office hadn’t taken up much time – Harriet had already stored her personal things in boxes that Sarah only needed to carry down to her car. She could have left quickly – and yet, when there was nothing left to do but turn her back at the bullpen and walk away, she had found it strangely difficult to do so. Once again, out of nowhere, a fleeting image had crossed her mind: Harm, a cardboard box in his arms, was standing in the very spot she was rooted in – only that she herself was observing the scene from inside the bullpen this time. He was looking back and their eyes met…
The look of sad finality in his eyes had made her gasp and she had done her best to chase the images from her mind. She would deal with them later.
Leaving for good was hard, so now Sarah was sitting in the back row of the main courtroom, following the case that was being tried and trying to imagine herself in Turner’s position, facing off against Harm’s prosecution. She had to admit that she was impressed and she conceded that she might actually like having a profession of the kind.
So maybe not JAG headquarters, but military law somewhere else, in the future…
Harm was just grilling one of Turner’s witnesses and to her surprise, Sarah found herself taking an interest like she would in a football match. She followed Turner’s every reaction to Harm’s every attack and pride welled up inside her. Her friend was being no less than brilliant. Adrenaline shot up high in Sarah’s body and suddenly, she remembered the thrill she had felt so often, standing in front of this very bench, trying to draw in the judge as well as the jury.
Now it was Turner’s turn again. Sarah felt this had to be the crucial point of the morning. If Turner was able to disarm Harm’s questioning now, he would win. If not… Sarah fixed her eyes on Harm again, as if to let him feel her mental support. ‘Go, flyboy, this one’s guilty as hell.’
Turner cautiously spoke up. “Petty Officer, you said Chief Wilkes was running a fever that evening. Wouldn’t that have clouded his judgement when it came…”
‘Objection! Calls for speculation,’ a voice cried in Sarah’s head.
“Objection, your Honor, calls for speculation,” Harm cut in sharply. Sarah’s eyebrows went up a notch at the synchrony of their reactions.
“Sustained,” stated Judge Blakely and Sarah involuntarily made a fist of triumph.
Turner seemed unperturbed. “I’ll rephrase: the virus might have affected Chief Wilkes’s performance in general, isn’t that so, Petty Officer? You knew the flight deck was slippery because the temperature had dropped below 30 degrees, right? The headlights of the incoming Tomcat were blinding you. So...”
‘Objection! Defense is answering for the witness!’
“Objection, defense is answering for the witness,” Harm remarked calmly, making Sarah wonder if she had said aloud what had been on her mind.
“Sustained,” Blakely conceded, giving Turner an intense look. “Commander, please, ask a question.”
“I’m sorry, your Honor,” Turner apologized. Then he pointedly looked at the witness. “So, Petty Officer, did you or did you not throw caution in the wind in an irresponsible manner when you ordered the chief to…”
‘Objection! Defense harrassing the witness!’
“Objection, defense is harrassing the witness.” Harm’s words resounded in the room at the precise moment Sarah heard them in her brain. Starting to feel a little nervous about their thinking so alike, Sarah silently rose and left the courtroom. True, an experienced lawyer might probably have acted the same way Harm had, but using the very same words at exactly the same time, three times in a row… This was starting to get mental. Getting out of here might be a good idea.
At least, the hurt of turning her back at JAG had been lessened considerably by the disconcerting proceedings, Sarah thought, relieved, the moment she ignited the engine of her ‘vette and headed home.
Colonel Mackenzie was no more.
Feb. 13th
2332 ZULU
Mac’s apartment
Georgetown, D.C.
Sarah was staring from a hilltop down at a yellow biplane that was parked on the clearing below. Her leg was hurting madly and she was very cold. From behind she could hear the wild barking of the hunting dogs approaching mercilessly…
…as the ringing of her phone made her sit up on the couch with a start. She let out a relieved sigh. This dream had been a particularly vivid one and she was grateful for the break.
Reaching over, she grabbed the receiver and lay back again. “Mackenzie.”
[“Hello, Colonel, I hope I don’t disturb you?”] a young, agreeable voice with a slight accent came over the line. Sarah recognized it immediately.
“Not at all, Sergei. I was just dozing a little but I need to get up anyway. But it’s not ‘Colonel’ anymore.”
[“Oh, I’m sorry,”] Sergei apologized. [“Of course. Harm told me you received your final orders today. How are you feeling?”]
Sarah sighed. “I’m not quite sure, but I think it was for the best. Anyway, what can I do for you?”
[“Nothing. Harm just called me from the office and asked me to make sure you were well. He was a little worried earlier when he found out you had left without letting him know.”] In Sergei’s voice, too, was ringing some concern.
“I’m okay, really,” Sarah reassured him, smiling to herself about being watched by two protective Rabb specimen. “When you call your brother, please tell him that we’re still on for tonight, 2000, my place, will you? And if he asks why I left… uhm… just tell him that being able to read his mind isn’t a thing I’m used to.”
She had meant it as a joke but her face fell when she became aware of the distinct silence on the other end of the line. “Sergei? Everything okay?” she asked, puzzled.
[“Yeah, of course…”] the young Russian answered cautiously. [“It’s just… you know, what you just told me reminds me of what Harm told me about how you located him when he was lost at sea. So it’s true…”] His thoughtful voice trailed off.
“Excuse me?” Sarah asked, her confusion deepening. “What is true? And I was in D.C. when Harm’s plane went down. I couldn’t possibly…”
[“That’s just the point,”] Sergei explained softly. [“Harm tells me the search teams passed him several times without finding him. Then the search was called off due to bad weather. It was only after you had that vision and supplied the coordinates that they finally got to him. And just in time… Colonel, I can never thank you enough for saving his life.”]
The deepest sincerity of his gratitude was too much. Sarah fell into defensive mode, trying to block out what she didn’t understand and didn’t want to understand, either. “This is not funny,” she said icily.
[“But if I tell you that he…”] Sergei began but enraged, Sarah cut him off.
“This is no goddamned time for jokes about my lost memory,” she blurted out. What did that jerk think he was doing? “Tell me what you have to say or quit producing shit like this!”
For a moment, Sarah thought he had ended the connection but then she heard him draw a shaky breath. [“Harm warned me that upsetting a Marine was potentially dangerous,”] he said, his attempt at mockery barely succeding to conceal his vexation. [“So I won’t even begin to try to contradict. But I suggest you call your little sister Chloe and ask her about how you found her when she was lost in the woods. What she told me coincides very much with Harm’s story. Good evening, Colonel.”]
The line went dead. Sarah stared at the receiver in her hand and tried to get a grip on her whirling thoughts. One thing was obvious: she had seriously upset the nice young man that she’d come to like a lot. And thinking about it objectively, Sergei was too tenderhearted to make up something like this to make fun of her situation. So, then, what the hell was this mental thing?
Nonsense. Pure bullshit. Things of the kind didn’t exist.
Yet, a small nagging doubt just wouldn’t be chased. ‘What if…?’ the little voice kept whispering in her head, ‘What if…?’
Sarah tried to ignore it for the next hour but instead of shutting up, it only grew louder and louder, resounding in her soul, haunting her.
So eventually, she resigned and gave in to the inevitable. Thumbing through her contacts list, she had soon found the number she was looking for and dialed, not quite knowing what to expect.
[“Hello?”] a friendly voice said into her ear.
“Good evening, ma’am,” Sarah began, feeling a little self-conscious, “This is Sarah Mackenzie. I’m sorry for disturbing you but I need to speak to Chloe for a moment, if that’d be possible.”
[“Colonel Mackenzie!”] The voice Sarah had identified as Chloe’s grandmother’s greeted her warmly. [“I’m so glad you’ve recovered so well. You’re not disturbing us at all. Chloe will be thrilled. Just a moment, please.”]
Forty-seven seconds later, a young, radiant voice took over. [“Mac! I was wondering when you’d call! Harm told me you weren’t so well yet. It’s so great to hear from you! How did…”]
Determined not to panic, Sarah gently cut in, “I know, I’m sorry. I should have called earlier. But you know, with my rehab and so on… I barely found the time to call even now and my doctors tell me to concentrate on nothing but my training,” she lied. “That’s why I have very little time right now, I’m so sorry.”
[“Don’t worry, I’m glad whenever I get a word with you.”] Sarah could tell Chloe tried not to sound disappointed. [“So how d’ya do? Found those missing bits of your memory you told me about?”]
Now things were getting tricky. She needed to stick to the story she had given her, that she was suffering a slight, partial amnesia like Harm had after his crash. But at the same time she needed to inquire after something that apparently defined her personality in some way – so ‘slight’ and ‘partial’ was getting difficult to hold up.
“Yeah, I learned a lot about myself in the last few weeks,” Sarah answered, tingeing her voice as happy and light as she could. “You know, actually it’s amazing to find out things about yourself you didn’t even know you ever thought about.” She let a chuckle follow her statement, hoping it sounded genuine.
[“God, I guess it is!”] Chloe agreed, obviously amazed by the concept.
Sarah decided she’d better get to the point as soon as possible. “Actually, this is why I’m calling,” she cut in, trying to sound neutrally curious and gulping down her anxiety. “You know, I talked with Sergei today…”
[“Oh, how is he?”] Chloe asked eagerly.
“He’s fine, thank you, and he asked me to say hello to you. Anyway, we were talking about all kinds of things and at some point – I don’t even remember how it came up – he mentioned something about that you were once lost in the woods and I found you.” Again, Sarah chuckled nervously.
Chloe gasped. [“What? You don’t remember? Why, you located me with that mental thing of yours, just the way you located Harm in May. You do remember that one, right?”]
“Of course I do,” Sarah lied quickly, “How could I forget that night?” ‘Indeed, how could I?’ she added sadly in her mind. “I was just surprised that I seem to have done this so often. So I wanted to ask you if you could quickly fill me in on the particulars. I’m sure once you do, it’ll all come back in a second.”
[“Sure,”] Chloe immediately complied. [“You know, there was that tree…”]
For the next ten minutes, Sarah just sat and listened, her stomach knotting ever more as her ‘sixth sense’ or however one wanted to call it, took a distinct form. Not for the first time, she cursed Colonel Mackenzie for having been such a darn complex person. When Chloe had ended, Sarah took a steadying breath and inquired lightly, “Wow, did I ever tell you where this… thing… came from?”
[“No, you didn’t,”] Chloe answered, obviously amused. [“And when I asked you about it you even told me pointblank that things like that didn’t exist. Actually, I’m still wondering how on Earth I convinced you to try and locate Harm with it if it didn’t.”]
Sarah felt she had to mirror her amusement and forced a little laugh. “Yeah, right…”
Luckily, she didn’t need to comment any further because Chloe was already going on. [“But I do have a theory,”] she said eagerly. [“It’s kinda freaky but if you want to hear it…”]
Smirking at the young girl’s obvious interest in the supernatural, Sarah admitted to herself that she was burning to know what Chloe was thinking. “Tell me,” she simply stated.
[“I was thinking if you hadn’t inherited it from your Cherokee great-grandmother.”]
Confused, Sarah asked, “Cherokee? I thought she was Iranian.”
Hearing Chloe laugh out loud, she knew she had to tread more carefully still. [“Gee, Mac, you’re doing a poor job disentangling your brains, right? Your mother’s mother was Iranian. Your dad’s grandma was a Cherokee.”]
“Oh, sure, right,” Sarah laughed hastily, “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just way too tired to have this conversation. Interesting theory, though. You know what? I’ll just hit the rack now and let the info sink in. I’m sure tomorrow everything you just mentioned’s gonna be in the right order again.”
[“It better,”] Chloe answered, her grin audible. [“Go get some sleep and call me when you can, okay?”]
“Sure. Take care, Chloe, I love you,” Sarah took her leave, wondering if this had been the right way to do it.
Apparently, Chloe didn’t find anything unnatural in her words. [“Love you, too, Mac. And don’t panic. Harm got well again. I’m sure you will, too. Bye!”]
“Bye,” Sarah said softly to the already dead phone-line. For several minutes she just sat and stared blankly at the receiver in her hand, giving her brain a little time to process what she had just been told. And it was then that an idea slowly began to form at the back of her mind.
She felt completely unwilling to contact a psychotherapist about her state. Whenever Harm had tried to bring up the topic, she had refused pointblank. Trying to tell someone who didn’t know her at all anything about a woman she herself hadn’t figured out yet – and bringing all the pain out in the open that she was struggling with day by day? Nope. Maybe that was good for other people. But she abhorred the thought of sharing her private agonies with someone so totally unrelated to her.
But… Chloe’s theory had struck a chord somewhere inside her. Sarah knew she didn’t believe in the supernatural, but just today she had been given more than enough evidence about herself that was hard to contradict. So what if her little sister was right? What if this really was some kind of Cherokee heritage? Improbable as it seemed to her, Sarah felt she was unable to dismiss the possibility from her mind. And if exploring it meant opening up to some kind of… well, medicine man or whoever would know about such things, Sarah felt that strangely, the idea was less appalling to her than seing a therapist. After all, didn’t she somehow belong to them?
‘God, I must be freaking desperate if I consider doing such a thing,’ she scolded herself.
Yet, that night, Sarah Mackenzie went to bed just a little less afraid.
To be continued…