TITLE:  "Divine Fate"
          AUTHOR:  Pat Steiner
          SUMMARY:   Post Four Percent Solution.  Fate is about to make 
 another attempt at an intervention.
          RATING/CATAGORY:  PG-13 just to be safe---for language and 
violence. 
  A JAG story featuring the Mac and Harm relationship.
          SPOILERS:  Any past episode, and spoilers for future ones may 
be 
 referred to in any of my writing.
          DISCLAIMER:  Written for entertainment only.  No copyright 
 infringement is to be assumed from this work.
          FEEDBACK:  Appropriate comments always welcome-those which 
respect 
 the work and the effort that goes into the writing.  Feedback is never 
 expected 
 nor begged for.  If you read and enjoy, that's good enough for me.
          NOTE:  All parts of this story and previous chapters, as well 
as 
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NOTE:  Story picks up a beat after the freeze frame scene of the 
episode "Four Percent 
Solution".

"Divine Fate"---
 
 Her eyes closed and Harm did not retreat from his place at her 
bedside, feeling her hand 
slacken between his.  Ten minutes later just when he thought she was 
sleeping, her eyes 
snapped open.  "You should go to the Wall.  Your dad is going to miss 
you."
 
 "My dad knows exactly where I am.  And why," he told her sternly.  "By 
the way, Merry 
Christmas."
 
 "Wha. . .oh my god I didn't know the time.  Merry Christmas," she 
whispered, fighting to 
keep her eyes open.  "You could go."
 
 "Will you stop.  In the first place if I drive home tonight I'm just 
going to have to drive 
back here tomorrow to pick you up.  Then there's the fact that I'll 
stay up all night once I 
get there.  Mac when they called me, they said you were in an accident 
and asking for me 
and that you were being evaluated.  I didn't know if I was going to get 
here and have to ID 
your body or what."
 
 Her breath caught in her throat at that.  She had not stopped to 
consider this night had 
not been a day at the beach for him either.  "I'm sorry.  I really 
don't remember too much 
of that.  Whatever they're pumping into me is making me fly."
 
 "It's supposed to make you sleep," he chided her.  "Your body has been 
through a 
trauma.  Rest will you."
 
 "I will.  I'm just having a hard time turning my mind off."
 
 "Anything you want to talk about?" he asked gently, rubbing his thumb 
across the top of 
her hand.
 
 "I'm all talked out," she murmured, thinking of the conversation with 
Dr. McCool that had 
been playing over and over in her head like a tape caught in a cycle of 
rewind-play, 
rewind-play.
 
 "So again, sleep.  Tomorrow once they've released you I'll take you 
home."
 
 "I don't want to keep you from anything."
 
 "You're not.  I'm going to rest right here, and try to get the 
pictures out of my mind from 
the drive down here."
 
 "OK I'm going to close my eyes since I can't hardly keep them open.  
You're staying 
then?"
 
 "Right here.  Promise."
 =======
 "Good morning.  You look like hell Sailor."  
 
 Harm had been just stirring, blinking against the bright sunshine that 
reflected off the 
overnight coating of white.  Christmas morning, but it was Mac's voice 
that made him 
open his eyes.
 
 "Good morning to you.  Gee can't imagine why I'd look bad.  Had such a 
fun evening," 
he groaned, sitting up and rubbing his now-stubbled chin.  "How do you 
feel?"
 
 "I hurt everywhere," she replied.  "Who do I have to use the Marine 
death grip on to get 
something?"
 
 With a sly grin he lifted the call button from her pillow and wrapped 
her hand around it.  
"Try that.  Jeeves will come."
 
 Not an English butler but a young nurse with a bright smile appeared 
shortly.  "Yes 
ma'am?"
 
 "Are you here to shoot me?"
 
 "Uh. . ." she looked at Harm in confusion.
 
 "The lady of the manor needs something for pain," he helped out.
 
 "No problem."
 
 "Also could I get some breakfast?  Could someone fit that into their 
busy schedule," 
Mac groused.  "And when I feel better I'll apologize for being a 
Christmas grinch."
 
 "You do that," Harm told her, his relief that she was all right making 
him accept her 
mood with more amusement than anything else.
 
 "Trays are on their way up," Carrie assured her.  "Mr. Rabb I 
requested a tray for you as 
well but after you see it you may want to visit McDonalds."
 
 "Thanks.  But I'll take my chances with the food here," he laughed, 
standing up slowly to 
stretch out the stiffness of a night in the chair.  "You have any idea 
when Ms. Mackenzie 
is going to be released?"
 
 "Soon as Dr. Holbrook signs her instructions.  Are you going to be 
looking after her?"
 
 "Yep.  I'm getting white orthopedic shoes soon as we get home."
 
 "Kill me now.  Please," Mac begged, sliding more deeply under the 
covers.
 ==========
 "This is not how I planned my Christmas day," Mac murmured, early that 
afternoon as 
they were finally on the road to DC.  She squirmed uncomfortably in the 
seat, the 
medication she had been giving for pain only managing to dull the all 
over ache.
 
 "Well we've got the time.  How would you have?"
 
 "I was going to serve at the kitchen down on M Street," she sighed.  
"Then I had been 
invited out to Harriet and Bud's.  As were you but she said you had 
other plans."
 
 "Which I've already cancelled," he told her.  "Alicia was having some 
people over that's 
all."
 
 "I hope she wasn't depending on you to cook.  Harm you can drop me. . 
."
 
 "Stop that.  Now," he ordered.  "The doctor said the pills would make 
you unsteady and 
you needed someone with you.  Well you're looking at him.  Alicia 
understands."
 
 "You'll have to make it up to her."
 
 He gave her a noncommittal shrug and turned his attention to driving.  
Truth be told, in 
his heart he knew he was with the person he most wanted to spend the 
day.
 ========
 HARM's APT
 1 hour later
 
 Harm was just dropping a light blanket over top the seemingly small 
figure curled into 
the over-size recliner when his cell phone rang.  He snapped his 
fingers in remembrance 
as he saw the caller ID.  "Hey Grams.  Merry Christmas.  I'm glad you 
called."  
 
 "What? Harmon you're not planning on canceling are you?"
 
 "Oh no ma'am but I was going to call you to say I'm not going to 
leave. . .wait one 
Grams.  Hold that thought."
 
 He looked down at Mac once again, her eyes starting to close.  "Grams 
could I bring a 
friend?"
 
 "You know you can.  Of course," the older woman replied.  "Special 
friend?"
 
 "Yes ma'am," he replied, reaching down to touch Mac's shoulder.  She 
opened her eyes, 
looking at him questioningly.  "Grams let me call you back in about 
five minutes." 
 
 "Harm what's going on?  I suddenly feel like I'm in the way or keeping 
you from 
something."
 
 "I'm supposed to go to my grandmother's in Pennsylvania," he 
explained, keeping his 
hand on her shoulder.  "I was going up tomorrow to stay through New 
Years day.  But 
then this with you so I thought I'd tell her I was needed here for a 
few days and that I'd be 
up for just the New Year holiday weekend but suddenly I realized you 
could come with 
me."
 
 "What?  Barge in on your grandmother?  Besides what would Alicia 
think?"
 
 He frowned at that and dropped down beside her.   "You know her name 
is coming up 
way out of proportion to her importance in my life.  Putting Grams on 
hold for the 
moment, why is that?"
 
 She took a deep breath and plunged in.  May as well clear the air. 
"Middle of October 
when I stopped over your place and you and she were making dinner?  I 
had this huge 
flashback to five years ago and you and Bobbi for one thing, then 
another time and me 
arriving at your place just after Renee had gotten the news of her 
dad."
 
 He nodded, his brow furrowed as he thought over what she was letting 
herself share 
with him, wondering how much of her candor could be attributed to the 
medication she 
was on.  
 
 "Harm?  Harm can you say something before I feel like any more of a 
fool than I already 
do."  
 
 Her insistent voice broke into his musing and he looked up and smiled, 
brushing her 
cheek with the back of her hand.  "Look, you and I--we've been trying 
to figure this thing 
out between us for a long time now.  Am I right?"
 
 "Uh. . .sure," she replied warily.
 
 "OK then.  Let me kick it forward just a bit.  Know this Marine.  You 
have nothing to be 
concerned about as far as Alicia Montes.  I've enjoyed the dinners 
we've shared since 
September but you're. . ."  His voice trailed and she smiled softly.
 
 "You know I could have bet the rent you would stop there.  What Harm?  
What am I?"
 
 "This is like the desert where you made me invite you."
 
 "Yeah it is.  Something like that.  And you know what, I even hate 
that I'm like that.  You 
know what too, Mic and Clay--they both managed to suck me in even 
though I knew it 
wasn't right, because they fed into that need."
 
 Another pause while he regarded her.  "You're way more important to me 
than Alicia.  Or 
just about anything else.  My career included, which I think I 
demonstrated to you a while 
back."
 
 "Yeah you did," she agreed soberly, taking his gentle chastisement to 
heart.  "But 
maybe it was payback for Russia."
 
 "Maybe so.  Our lives are certainly intertwined."
 
 "For a long time now.  You should call your grandmother back."
 
 "Can't."
 
 "I'm sorry?"
 
 He gave her a sheepish shrug.  "You haven't said you'll come with me."
 =============
 FOLLOWING MORNING
 Breezewood PA 
 
 Harm pulled into the parking lot that connected several restaurants.  
"Old man pit stop.  
You doing OK?"  
 
 Mac stirred and opened her eyes.  "I'm just stiff and sore.  And 
you're not old.  At least 
you better be young enough to come help me out of here.  How much 
further?"
 
 "I'll have you there for lunch.  Promise," he laughed, hurrying around 
to her side.  He 
opened the door and reached for her, holding his arms out so she could 
slide into them.
 
 "Thanks."
 
 "You're welcome but prepare to be force fed," he frowned.  Catching 
her was like 
catching air.  "Grams is going to take one look and want to feed you."
 
 "I don't think I'd mind," she sighed.  "Might feel good to be taken 
care of.."
 
 "I could volunteer."  Before he released her, he gave her just enough 
of a squeeze to 
pass for a quick hug.  "Cold juice?"
 
 "Yeah.  And yeah.  And thanks."
 
 Mac remained awake for the remainder of the trip, and once they had 
turned off the 
turnpike she found herself becoming enthralled with the gently rolling 
hills of west 
central Pennsylvania.  The snow from Christmas eve had left everything 
spun with cotton 
candy white.  
 
 "There's the house," Harm told her, pointing across acres of barren 
fields, bent corn 
stalks sticking up from the snow.
 
 "This is so bucolic it's pathetic," she giggled.  "Also beautiful.  So 
how old is that 
place?"
 
 "Well the site for the house goes back to something like 1750 when the 
first Rabb came 
here from Germany but of course it's been added to and remodeled a 
dozen times since 
then.  Not in a long time though.  Grams hasn't changed much since my 
dad grew up 
here.  Only what she had to.  I'm sure that's on purpose."
 
 "What about your grandfather?  He was Navy right?"
 
 "Pearl Harbor.  He didn't even know Grams was pregnant.  She was 
living here then with 
Peter's folks see."
 
 "She must have great stories to tell about your dad.  And you for that 
matter.  Not to 
mention baby pictures."
 
 "Nope.  No pictures.  All burned up.  Huge fire," he teased.
 =========
 "Sarah Catherine Mackenzie, Sarah Elizabeth Montgomery Rabb," Harm 
smiled as soon 
as his grandmother met them at the door, even before he had hugged the 
older woman.
 
 "Ma'am."
 
 "Oh good lord.  Stop that.  Harmon did you not tell her?"
 
 "Mac everyone calls her Grams.  I mean everyone.  Except the few 
ladies that are left of 
her generation."
 
 "Thanks.  Grams."  Mac took a few hesitant steps inside and took a 
long breath.  The 
house smelled of home.  Of fires in the hearth, old wood 
furniture--real wood--that had 
been polished until it gleamed, and of past generations who had called 
the snug 
mountain valley home.
 
 "Harm said you had a car accident dear.  I'm so sorry.  Are you 
feeling better?"
 
 "Yes ma'am.  Just sore now.  Thank you for having me."
 
 "Well I feel like I know you.  Harm has mentioned you once or twice.  
I've got the tea 
kettle on and there's pot pie for lunch.  I just hope you won't be 
bored here.  Harm you 
can put the bags upstairs.  I uh. . .we didn't discuss the sleeping 
arrangements."
 
 "Mac will use the guest room Grams." 
 
 Lunch lasted for an hour and with as much talk as eating, and about 
the time Mac was 
nibbling a piece of Christmas cake, she had started to fall silent.  
Harm stopped mid 
sentence and wrapped his hand around her wrist.  "Mac?"
 
 "Sorry.  Wilting.  Don't mind me."
 
 "Mac, Harm will take you upstairs and let you rest some," Grams told 
her firmly.  
 
 "Oh please I don't want to spoil your reunion."
 
 "Oh good grief we're going to see plenty of each other this week and 
anyway, I'm going 
over to the church for a couple of hours.  We're doing some of the 
cooking for tomorrow 
night's supper."
 
 "Well I wouldn't mind lying down then," she allowed.  "Let me help you 
here first."
 
 "Yeah that's going to happen," Harm scoffed before Grams finished the 
first shake of 
her head.  He rose from his chair and pulled Mac's out, helping her to 
her feet
 
 "Get some rest Sarah," Grams told her, starting to pick up the plates.
 
 "Have I mentioned I hate this?" Mac murmured, leaning more on Harm as 
they climbed 
the staircase than she wanted to.
 
 "Mac your body went through a trauma.  Like what it feels like to 
punch-out," he replied, 
guiding her toward the guest room.  "You'll bounce right back.  Just 
give it a little time."
 
 "It's not just the physical," she sighed, dropping onto the bed.  
"Honestly Harm ever 
since. . ."
 
 He stood beside the bed, waiting for her to finish.  "Yeah?"
 
 "Never mind.  It's going to come out like whining."
 
 "Hey if not to your best friend who can you whine to?" he grinned.
 
 "Well it's just that OK, remember we went out to the carrier and the 
matter of Singer's 
pregnancy came up.  You and I were on a pretty even keel before that."
 
 "And I held back what I learned and knew.  My brother's involvement 
with her and all 
that."
 
 "Yeah.  Then of course that just got worse and then your trial and I 
was ordered to stay 
away.  Anyway, we all know what happened after that."
 
 "Yeah we do.  A long slippery slope to a year  I don't want to relive.  
Well for the most 
part.   I got Mattie out of it and a lot of flying time and knowledge 
and experiences I 
wouldn't have acquired otherwise.  Anyway, were we going somewhere with 
this trip 
down memory lane?"
 
 "I was just saying that I feel totally washed out from everything 
that's happened.  Like I 
need a month alone somewhere just to get my head back on straight.  Dr. 
McCool helped 
a lot.  At least she helped me to know where to look inside for 
answers."
 
 "Uh. . .this is good right?"
 
 She smiled softly at his consternation.  "Yeah it is.  I've gotten a 
good bit of clarity since 
I talked to her that night.  I just haven't really acted on it.  I 
guess I was kind of letting it 
simmer.  Of course that's kind of my M-O anyway--just leaving things on 
burners instead 
of taking decisive action.  That's how for example a certain Australian 
came back into my 
life when I should have told him the truth before he gave it all up for 
me.  I'll always think 
I ruined this man's life."
 
 "Well I doubt that," Harm told her dryly.  "I mean he got back on 
duty, shipboard even 
you said, a couple Christmas's ago."
 
 "Yeah well that's just an example."  Her words were punctuated by a 
large yawn and he 
shook his head.  
 
 "No more.  Get some rest will you.  That's why we came here."  Before 
she could speak 
again, he was gently pushing her down onto the pillow and bringing the 
folded blanket 
from the end of the mattress up over her.
 
 "You take good care of me."
 
 "Funny, I told you something like that once."
 
 She cocked her head, her interest piqued.  "You seem to remember a lot 
of what's 
transpired between us."
 
 He grinned sheepishly.  "Yes I do.  Now sleep."  He tucked the blanket 
around her and 
gave her shoulder an awkward pat before leaving her alone.  She watched 
him close the 
door and smiled to herself as she let her head sink into the pillow and 
almost at once felt 
blessed sleep close over her.
 
 Two hours later it was pounding in the distance that woke her and she 
sat up slowly, 
feeling her sore muscles voice their objection.  Knowing the best thing 
for those muscles 
was movement she levered herself from the bed, throwing the blanket 
around her 
shoulders against the chill of the old house.
 
 No way.  Never in a million years would she have ever thought it 
possible.  She had 
made her way downstairs to the kitchen, following the noise, and there 
on the floor was 
six-four of US Naval Officer.  At least his lower half.  The upper 
portion was almost 
wholly in the cabinet beneath the kitchen sink.
 
 "I do not believe what I'm seeing here," she giggled softly, startling 
the 'plumber' who 
raised up sharply, banging his head on the pipe.
 
 "Geez woman scare a guy to death why don't you," he muttered, pulling 
himself out from 
under the sink enough to look up at her.  "Did you get some rest?"
 
 "Yeah it helped," she smiled.  "Are you really fixing the sink?"
 
 "This plumbing is older than I am," he groused.  "But I think I can 
make it hold out a little 
longer here."
 
 She lowered herself into one of the kitchen chairs, suppressing 
another laugh.  "Well 
don't quit your day job.  I love this old house.  Wow.  I mean the TV 
roof antenna, the 
phone has a dial for crying out loud."
 
 "I told ya," he laughed.  "She's only improved what she has to."
 
 "Harm she's great.  I only hope I'm like that at that age."
 
 "Yeah she's pretty amazing.  Did you know she was only sixteen when 
she married, had 
Gramps only a matter of months--just long enough to get pregnant.  He 
shipped out, 
Pearl Harbor happened, and she was a widowed mother at eighteen."
 
 "I. . wow," she whispered.  "And she never remarried?"
 
 "Came close a couple times I guess," he shrugged.  "But she always 
said she couldn't 
do that to a guy--couldn't make him fill shoes of the only man she 
could really love.  I 
guess maybe that's why I had a hard time at first accepting Frank.  I 
mean in the first 
place I was convinced my dad was alive and I hated that she had him 
declared dead so 
she could remarry.  Well all in the past now.  She's happy and thanks 
to you I know what 
became of my dad."
 
 "I'm glad it worked out," she whispered again, turning to walk to the 
large kitchen 
window.  "I hear Grams coming.  I even like the way tires crunch your 
gravel."
 
 "You think you could ever live up here?"
 
 She had to pause to be sure she had heard him correctly and by the 
time she turned 
back to him he was back under the sink.  "Odd question," she finally 
managed.  "Can I 
ask why?"
 
 "Sure," he replied, his voice muffled by the cabinet.  "I'm planning 
on doing my 
retirement here is all.  Little practice on the side, fix up old planes 
and cars maybe."
 
 "And this involves me?"
 
 "Well it could," he said almost too softly for her to hear.
 
 "Yeah I guess maybe it could," she allowed, still shaking her head 
when Grams 
appeared at the door.  
 
 "Am I interrupting?" 
 
 "Of course not.  I'm just enjoying the view," Mac giggled, gesturing 
to where Harm's 
sweatshirt had ridden up enough to expose his midriff.
 
 "Well don't let me disturb you.  Harm is that sink operational.  I do 
have dinner to get 
started."
 
 "Yes ma'am, putting the last piece on now.  Two words Grams--garbage 
disposal."
 
 "Nonsense.  I'm going up to change.  By the way all the ladies are 
excited that you're 
here and of course that you've brought a friend."
 
 "Yes ma'am.  Can't wait."
 
 After dinner Harm chased Mac and Grams into the parlor and made short 
work of the 
dishes, also making a phone call and when he came to join them he 
leaned down to look 
closely at Mac.  "You feel up to getting out for a bit?"
 
 "I think so yeah.  What did you have in mind Sailor?"
 
 "Grams I just got off the phone with Tom Sinclair."
 
 "Really?  Well then Mac had better dress warmly.  There's extra 
blankets in the hall 
closet."
 
 "Uh Harm I'm not up to skiing or anything," Mac spoke up, wariness in 
her voice.
 
 "No skiing involved, promise," he grinned.
 
 There was no skiing but another sort of runner.  Forty minutes later 
there was the sound 
of real jingle bells outside the front door, bells made even louder 
when their bearer 
shook his head for to Mac's amazement there stood a sleigh.  A horse 
drawn sleigh.  "A 
one horse open sleigh," Harm said softly.  "Tell me you've never done 
this please.  That 
when you met Clay last Christmas eve it wasn't for a sleigh ride."
 
 "Good grief no it wasn't," she smiled.  "Wow.  Pretty uh. . .you won't 
laugh if I say 
romantic will you?"
 
 "No of course not.  Thanks Tom.  We'll be back in an hour."
 
 "Wait you're driving this contraption?" she gasped.
 
 "Oh you bet.  And I promise to keep it under fifty."
 
 "If Maybelle does three you'll be lucky," Tom groaned.
 
 Harm escorted Mac to the side of the sleigh and helped her in, then 
pressed two 
blankets over her.
 
 "Harm take her over by the Mickelbach's," Grams called.  "They've got 
a huge Christmas 
light display."
 
 "Yes ma'am."  He climbed up on his side and clucked to the horse who 
moved out 
smartly if not speedily.  
 
 "Mr. Rabb you are just full of surprises," she declared.  
 
 "You keep that in mind."
 
 For the next hour they drove up and down the nearby roods, the sled 
cutting cleanly 
through the snow crust.
 
 "Your cheeks are all pink," he told her when they finally turned down 
the half mile road 
that led to the farmhouse and he could see her color in the lantern 
light.
 
 "That's airbag residue."
 
 "Right." He pulled up just at the bend in the river and the snow and 
ice sparkled in the 
moonlight.  Ever so gently he slipped his arm over her shoulders and 
brought her to him.  
"If you don't want me to kiss you, you're going to have to say that 
loud and clear right 
now."
 
 She swallowed hard and looked into his eyes, the blue-green seeming 
even more 
intense.  "I think I'm going to say something loud and clear if you 
don't."
 
 "Yes ma'am."  His lips came down on hers, lightly at first, and then 
with more intensity.  
It was the fourth time they had kissed, and it was by far the most 
special.  
 
 "I didn't want that to end," she admitted when he released her.
 
 "Me neither."
 
 Grams knew the minute she saw them come in from the cold that 
something had 
changed.  She simply smiled and gave Harm an approving nod.  She had in 
fact known 
for some time the feelings her only grandson carried for this woman, 
whom she liked the 
second she met her. "There's cocoa on the stove."
 
 "Oh Grams thanks.  Mac you wouldn't believe the cocoa she makes.  From 
real 
chocolate--not that mix stuff we have at the coffee pot at JAG."
 
 "Is there marshmallows?"
 
 "You know it."
 =========
 FOLLOWING EVENING
 
 "Harm is there going to be old girlfriends here or anything like that 
I should know 
about?" Mac whispered as he helped first Grams and then her from the 
car at church.
 
 "A few people I knew when I spent summers here," he admitted.  "No one 
I've stayed 
close to.  So no need to feel awkward."
 
 "Good."
 
 They were walking in to the large fellowship hall, Harm balancing two 
containers of food, 
when Grams stopped short.
 
 "Signals please,"
 
 "Sorry.  I didn't know he was going to be here."
 
 "He who?"
 
 "He calls himself Brother Thaddeus," she sighed, gesturing to the 
shaggy headed 
blonde man in this mid-thirties who was obviously popular with some of 
the church 
members if not one Sarah Rabb.
 
 "Not a fan Grams?"
 
 "No.  I don't believe that any man no matter how much a man of the 
cloth he may be has 
the power to heal like this man claims he does.  He's Pastor Jacob's 
nephew you see.  
Now I've known Jacob all his life, and Thaddeus's father as well.  
Except Thaddeus isn't 
his real name.  It's Jonathan.  But not the point.  The point is I 
don't believe there's any 
human alive now that has the power to heal by touch.  Jesus did.  And 
He gave that to 
his disciples.  But to Jonathan Provost no."
 
 "So is he visiting or what?" Harm frowned, looking the young man up 
and down. 
 
 "Yes.  He's wanting his uncle to take him in as an associate pastor.  
I'm praying as hard 
as I can not."
 
 Harm turned his attention from Thaddeus to his grandmother.  "Grams 
you usually don't 
speak ill of anyone.  He must have really gotten on your bad side."
 
 "He just rubs me totally the wrong way," she sighed.  "I don't get the 
sense that he's 
here to preach the gospel."
 
 "What then?" Mac asked, her interest aroused.
 
 "Money.  Power.  TV maybe," she murmured.  "So different from his 
brother.  When 
Jacob speaks I truly believe God has put the message in his heart.  
When Thaddeus 
speaks, he's speaking from a whole different point of view.  Plus he 
fancies himself a real 
ladies' man.  Never mind.  Bring the food over here and Harm come speak 
to Abigail and 
Beth.  They'll want to meet Sarah."
 
 An hour later Grams' words about 'ladies man' hit home as Harm looked 
up from talking 
to three of Grams' friends to see Thaddeus alone with Mac, having 
backed up against a 
far wall.  "Ladies excuse me," 
 
 "I don't believe we've met," he said firmly as soon as he came up 
behind Thaddeus, 
dropping a possessive arm across Mac's shoulders.  So possessive that 
she sent him a 
strange look and he withdrew. He had made his point.  To Thaddeus as 
well for he 
removed the hand he had lay on her arm.
 
 "Call me Brother Thaddeus," the erstwhile preacher told him, holding 
out his hand.
 
 "Harm Rabb."
 
 "And I've met Ms. Mackenzie here.  She tells me the two of you are 
staying with Grams.  I 
left here when I was so young I barely remember her, but I know she's 
close to Jacob and 
his family."
 
 "Pleased to meet you," Harm managed, trying with effort to remain 
open-minded.  "You 
didn't grow up here in the valley?"
 
 "No.  My folks split when I was five and my mom took me to the West 
Coast.  I didn't see 
my dad much after that.  She was killed in a boating accident a year 
later and her sister 
raised me, then my dad was back here and he died a few years later.  
Well you probably 
know that since you sort of grew up with Jacob."
 
 Harm nodded, thinking over what he knew of the Provost family, how 
Pastor Jacob was 
his age and came back to Belleville to take over his father's church 
after divinity school.  
If he knew he had a brother who had died, it had slipped his mind. "Mac 
Grams is looking 
for you."
 
 "Uh yeah sure," she nodded, giving Harm an odd look before excusing 
herself to 
Thaddeus.
 
 "Your woman?" Thaddeus asked.
 
 "I don't think of her as that," Harm returned, valiantly attempting to 
keep an open mind 
concerning the preacher.  "She's a close friend who recently suffered a 
trauma and she's 
spending some time with me and Grams."
 
 "So if I asked her out, I wouldn't be stepping on anyone's toes?"
 
 Harm's eyes narrowed, and his mind went back to another time and place 
and an 
Australian accented voice which had asked him the same question.  Would 
that he had 
said then. . .  Instead he settled for a glare and excused himself.
 
 "What was that all about?"  Mac stepped away from Grams and confronted 
Harm.
 
 "Well you know how I am when another man talks to you."  He meant it 
with a note of 
sarcasm and self-depreciation but more it came off as serious concern.
 
 "Yeah and I remember one time I told you I hate it when you get like 
this."
 
 "Guilty.  Uh. . .he mentioned asking you out and I just got my hackles 
up as Grams 
would say.  I'm sorry.  Obviously if you want to go out with the man 
that's your choice."
 
 "Thank you," she smiled softly.  "I have no interest in starting 
something new.  Not until 
I see where something else is going anyway."  
 
 His mouth opened to respond and then he simply smiled.  
 
 "Harm you look like the cat what ate the canary," Grams told him.  
"Everything OK?  I 
see you met Thaddeus."
 
 "Yes ma'am."
 
 "And?"
 
 He shrugged noncommittally.  "He's probably OK, but then I don't have 
to live here and 
deal with him."
 
 "Yeah well I'm hoping we won't have to either," she muttered.  "I 
think we're ready to 
go."
 
 "Yes ma'am."  
 
 Not until they were in the farmhouse and making some late evening hot 
chocolate did 
Grams remember what she needed to tell Harm.  "You're not doing 
anything special 
tomorrow evening are you?  Mac?"
 
 "Grams you know we're just here with you.  What's up?" he frowned.
 
 "Youth group ice skating party," she murmured.  "Carolyn and Ethan are 
in charge.  It's 
Parents Night out see.  Well they lost the Tidwells because their 
little girl is sick and they 
need another couple.  You guys wouldn't mind would you?"
 
 "Grams I don't skate," Mac gasped, "but suddenly the notion of seeing 
this big guy on 
ice skates is really appealing."
 
 "He used to be very good," she smiled.
 
 "Grams do you realize how many years there are in a 'used to be'.  I 
don't mind helping 
but I mean no way am I going to get on skates and make a complete fool 
of myself.  I'd 
break something I value a lot.  Like my neck."
 
 "No skating necessary," Grams assured him.  "They need some parents to 
mind the 
campfire, pass out cocoa and just generally supervise.  Normally I'm up 
for anything like 
that but not outdoors in the cold."
 
 "Well I don't want Mac overdoing."
 
 "Mac is fine and it sounds like fun.  Grams count on us," she said 
firmly.
 ==========
 FOLLOWING EVENING
 CHANDLERs POND
 
 "Flyboy I'm sorry but picturing you in a scarf and cap skating around 
this frozen water is 
not coming easy for me," Mac giggled.
 
 "I was hell on blades," he grinned.  "Spent the winter of fifth grade 
courting Allison 
Mitchell right here."
 
 "Does that include out behind that shed over there?"
 
 "That's the warm up shack and I don't kiss and tell."
 
 "Good thing.  I mean I don't need all of JAG to know about the sleigh 
and the moonlight 
and. . ."
 
 "Was it that bad?" he asked with a crooked smile.
 
 "No.  It was that special," she admitted.
 
 "To me too."
 
 Two vans from the church pulled up before they could say anything 
further to each 
other, except for Harm's hastily added, "this is a subject we'll 
revisit."
 
 Brother Thaddeus stepped from one van just as Mac and Harm walked over 
to greet the 
arrivals.  "Sarah.  What a nice surprise."
 
 "Hi," she smiled, shaking the hand he held out to her. 
 
 "Maybe later you'll do a turn on the perimeter with me."  He gestured 
to the skates 
dangling from his shoulders.
 
 "Only if I'm running along the outside," she laughed.  "Sorry.  I'm 
here in a strictly 
supervisory role."
 
 "We'll see about that," he shot back, dropping her hand and motioning 
to the kids to 
follow him.
 
 "Harm you can stop glaring now.  He's gone."
 
 "OK," he smiled, not wanting to get into a discussion of the emotions 
Thaddeus Provost 
brought to life inside him.
 
 "So what ever happened to Allison?" Mac asked later when they were 
passing out hot 
chocolate and cookies.
 
 Harm laughed softly and pointed to twin eight year old girls, both 
with long single braids 
hanging down over bright blue ski jackets.  
 
 "Oh cute.  Her kids?"
 
 "Not quite.  Grandchildren."
 
 She gave him a teasing smile.  "That must make you feel old Flyboy."
 
 "Well I went to the Academy summer after senior year and she got 
married so that 
helps," he groaned.  
 
 "Hot chocolate for a freezing man," Thaddeus interrupted.  "Served by 
a beautiful lady if 
you don't mind Mr. Rabb."
 
 "It probably wouldn't matter if I did," he murmured, nevertheless 
standing back out of 
the way.
 
 "In fact pour yourself a cup and let Mr. Rabb mind the store and take 
a walk with me," he 
urged.  "He won't mind."
 
 "Well I'm not sure about that but yeah for a minute," Mac smiled.  
"Harm you've got the 
con.  We'll be right back."
 
 "See that you are."
 
 Mac allowed the preacher to take her arm, smiling softly at Harm's 
veiled warning.
 
 "Your friend is very protective of you," Thaddeus observed as he 
guided Mac along the 
pond's edge.
 
 "We're close," she acknowledged.
 
 "In love close?"
 
 "Thaddeus believe me if you had hours I couldn't get into that with 
you," she laughed.  
"It's better off left alone.  Left for me and him to work out."
 
 "Well hopefully you won't be a stranger to these parts now and that 
I'll be staying on as 
well."
 
 "Why this small congregation and not some big city church?" 
 
 "More of a chance to be noticed.  In a big city operation I'd just be 
one of a half dozen 
associate or assistant pastors.  Jacob has been doing this alone for a 
long time.  He 
should be ready to be able to take some time off and let a younger man 
present a more 
youthful point of view."
 
 "I guess," she shrugged, not wanting to take his side knowing how 
Grams disliked the 
very idea of his presence.
 
 "I feel like I can be of a lot of help here; and do a lot of good," he 
went on, warming to 
his topic as he spoke.  "Perhaps someone has mentioned that I have been 
anointed with 
healing hands."
 
 "Grams did."
 
 "Well I was hoping you'd hear that from someone who believed.  I wish 
she did. She 
carries a lot of influence."
 
 "Sorry.  The best you're going to get from me is a partly open mind."
 
 "I'll take what I can.  But I'm also a dynamic speaker, and I can 
promote tithing and I'm 
great with the youth," he persisted.
 
 "You know what, you're trying to persuade the wrong person," she 
pointed out.  "I mean 
I'm only here visiting this week.  And frankly, with no offense and all 
due respect, my 
tendency would be to go with Grams' wisdom on the subject."
 
 "I see.  Well maybe I'll get a chance to prove myself."
 
 Those would be the last words she would recall before life suddenly 
became a struggle 
for air and a fight against icy water.  One second she had been walking 
along the ice near 
the edge of the pond, sliding her feet and enjoying the sensation of 
the crusty crackling, 
and the next the cold of death filling her lungs and seeping into her 
being.  Then came 
hands, Hands reaching for her. Hands holding her.  Hands pulling her 
out.   Rescuing 
hands.
 
 The adults chaperoning the skaters all wore whistles around their 
necks, instructed to 
let loose with one long blast for trouble.  Harm heard it just as he 
had served the last of 
the line for chocolate.  And it came from the direction in which 
Thaddeus had taken Mac.  

  
 His heart beat wildly as his feet refused to move.  It took another 
blast of the whistle to 
make his feet start; and when they did it was at a dead run.  He 
knew--in his heart he 
knew--Mac was in trouble.
 
 He saw the crowd of kids ahead, and heard Thaddeus's harsh voice 
issuing orders, then 
a calmer voice directing the children to get back, to give them room to 
work.
 
 "Let me through here.  Now.  Let me through," he demanded, pushing his 
way through 
the kids only to be stopped by one of the parents.  Joe Mercher held up 
his hand.  
 
 "She fell in Mr. Rabb. Broke through some thin ice where she shouldn't 
have been 
walking. Thaddeus pulled her out but he didn't get to her right away.  
I've called 911 and 
my wife is doing CPR.  Ruth's certified."
 
 "C--P. . .my god," he gasped, the full impact of the seriousness 
washing over him.  "Maa-
-aaac."
 
 The kids, recognizing him as being with Mac, quickly parted to allow 
him through.  As 
many crises as he had participated in and many more that he had 
witnessed, he was not 
prepared to see her soaked and laid out on the snowy bank, her head 
tipped back while 
an older woman rhythmically alternated breathing and chest 
compressions.
 
 "She has to be all right," he whispered, dropping next to her and 
taking her hand.  
"Ma'am?"
 
 "Nothing yet.  I won't stop until the paramedics get here."  Her 
husband meanwhile was 
gathering the skaters together in a circle to pray and Harm managed to 
shoot them one 
grateful glance before turning his attention to Mac.  For just a few 
seconds for he could 
not bear to watch and he looked sharply at Thaddeus.  
 
 "You want to tell me how the hell you could let this happen to her?"  
The words 
exploded from him and he did not at that moment care if there was any 
logic in his 
making the younger man responsible for her safety.
 
 "Harm please.  It was an accident," he replied softly.  "I pulled her 
out.  We were walking 
and talking and she kind of walked ahead of me.  I was just going to 
holler that that part 
of the water hadn't been demonstrated safe to skate when she went 
under.  You can see I 
got all wet myself pulling her out.  I'm guessing she's not a strong 
swimmer and the 
shock of the cold. . ."
 
 "Shut up.  Never mind."  Harm leaned down as close to Mac as he dared 
and not be in 
the way.  "Sarah please.  Please don't do this.  We've got a lot of 
life yet to live and I need 
you."
 
 What he did not see, so intense was his concentration on her face and 
her chest, 
praying for it to begin to rise and fall of its own accord, was 
Thaddeus also maneuver 
himself into position, just above her head.  Before Harm could react, 
he had placed his 
hands across her forehead and temples, 
 
 "What the. . ." was all Harm could get out before Thaddeus had looked 
to Heaven and 
intoned softly,
 
 "Heavenly father return the spirit of this woman to earth.  Her life 
here is not yet done.  I 
invoke the healing power You have given me and cast out that which 
would take her from 
this man who loves her."
 
 By then he had Harm's full attention.  "What the hell are you doing?  
Get away from her.  
You're not. . ."
 
 "Harm she's coming back," Ruth panted.  "Look."
 
 Sure enough Mac had begun to make small gurgling sounds.  "Roll her 
towards you 
Harm, onto her side.  Fast," Ruth directed.  "She's going to want to 
vomit."
 
 She did, expelling a quantity of frigid dirty water before she took a 
deep shuddering 
breath and her eyes opened slowly.  Harm hardly dared move, his gaze 
fixed on her, his 
breathing stilled while he waited to know she was all right.
 
 Thaddeus sat back on his heels, lifting his hands skyward, his face 
taking on an almost 
glow.  "Lord for the miracle you worked through my hands we thank you," 
he announced 
and got to his feet, looking down at a still unmoving Harm.  "Mr. Rabb 
saving a life is a 
class act.  It deserves a thank you."
 
 "I'll thank the Man whom you say you serve," he choked.  "And Mrs. 
Mercher for what 
she did.  I'm just not ready to believe. . ."
 
 "No matter.  You will come to do so," Thaddeus told him, turning to 
the others.  "As will 
you all.  God has placed healing in my hands.  Children, tell your 
father and mother when 
you see them tonight that you witnessed divine healing."
 
 Harm swallowed the instinctive response that was on his lips and 
instead concentrated 
on lifting Mac into his arms, holding her upright against his chest and 
gratefully 
accepting the blankets that were being pressed around them thanks to a 
couple of the 
teens running back to the warming shack.
 
 "Harm?"  She coughed hard
 
 "I've got you honey.  You're going to be OK."  He pressed his hand to 
the side of her 
face, drawing her even closer to him.  
 
 "I'm so cold."  The lonesome wail of the ambulance siren carried on 
the wind seemed to 
emphasize her words.  
 
 "You're going to be warm and dry real soon," he promised.  "Help is 
coming."
 
 "Harm no.  I don't want another hospital.  I just got out."  She 
struggled to rise and he 
held her firmly.
 
 "I don't want anything to happen to you," he told her firmly, pushing 
some icy strands of 
hair from her face. 
 
 Ruth put a hand on Harm's arm.  "She needs to be looked at.  Don't let 
her talk you out 
of it.  That cold icy water she had in her lungs can cause problems."
 
 "Yes ma'am thank you," he replied, though he had already made up his 
mind.  She 
would go to the ER.  "Mac I need to have a doctor tell me you're OK.  
So just relax and go 
with it."  He stroked her face once more, trying to rub some warmth 
into the pale skin, 
seeming to be deathly white.
 ==========
 St. Simeon's Hosp
 
 It would be an agonizingly long two hours later when the doctor did 
give Harm the news 
he needed for his peace of mind.  "Mr. Rabb I'm Doctor Shuster and 
please take a deep 
breath and relax.  Coronary care down on two is full up.  They don't 
have room for you."
 
 Harm allowed himself one very small, very quick, breath of relief.  
"Sarah's OK?"
 
 "She was very cold and in a little bit of respiratory distress which 
we're treating now.  
Soon as she can maintain her body heat and her blood gasses and airway 
look good you 
can take her home.  Rest is what she needs and she won't get that 
around this lunatic 
asylum."
 
 "Doctor her chest and face are just recovering from an airbag impact," 
Harm told him 
urgently.
 
 "She mentioned that, when I asked what the hell had hit her," he 
nodded.  "She seems 
like a strong woman."
 
 "I need to be with her."
 
 "She's asking for you."
 
 Harm started to hurry past him and then stopped.  "Doctor, do you 
believe that a man 
can heal from touch?  Even a man of God?"
 
 Dr. Shuster frowned.  "I am not the right person to ask that.  See, I 
see horrible tragedy 
in here, and I think no way a loving God would devastate a family like 
that.  On the other 
hand, I also see miracles happen, and while never due to a human's 
direct intervention, 
miracle nonetheless.  Uh. . .is that what happened to Ms. Mackenzie?"
 
 Harm ran a hand through his hair.  "Hell at this point I don't know.  
She was being given 
CPR by someone certified, but it wasn't helping, and then a preacher 
who claims this 
power put his hands on her.  But the CPR continued too.  I guess we'll 
not ever know."
 
 "Maybe not.  But you can be sure if I can have only divine touch or 
CPR, I'm going with 
the CPR every time," Dr. Shuster smiled.  "But prayer never hurts.  I 
imagine you've been 
doing your share of that."
 
 "Nonstop."  He hurried into the ER cubicle and the sigh of relief he 
issued was long and 
loud when he saw Mac sitting up.  With her hair dried and color 
returned to her cheeks, 
she looked almost normal.
 
 "Tell me you're here to get me out of here," she begged, holding her 
hand to him.
 
 "Soon," he promised, taking her still cold hand between his and 
rubbing some warmth 
into it.  "You feel like telling me what happened?  I know you probably 
didn't know where 
the safe areas of the pond stopped but Thaddeus should have."
 
 "He's not from here either," she pointed out.  "I'm not real sure.  I 
just remember we were 
talking--rather he was talking, I was just listening since it was all 
about him and I guess I 
wandered off where I should have been walking.  I was sort of tuning 
him out.  Not nice I 
guess.  But really after that all I remember is cold.  Everywhere.  
Then suddenly it started 
to get warm and then I remember needing to throw up.  Then I was cold 
all over again."
 
 Harm kept his face determinedly impassive as she talked, but his hands 
shook slightly 
still holding hers.  Her words about feeling warmth were hitting him 
hard.  Had she been 
on the brink of death? "Ruth Mercher did CPR."
 
 "I'm blank there," she admitted.  "I guess I scared you?"
 
 "You did.  For the second time in a week."
 
 "I'm sorry.  Grams?"
 
 "I called her and told her what happened and that you were OK.  I 
didn't want her hearing 
it somewhere else.  Uh. . .you know that Thaddeus is saying that he 
performed some kind 
of divine intervention or healing or something for you?"
 
 Her face grew thoughtful.  "I'm so fuzzy with all that.  If he says he 
did, then maybe but 
really I just don't know what happened.  You were there.  You think he 
did?"
 
 "Sorry.  No.  My money would be on Mrs. Mercher's CPR," he sighed.  
"And could we 
change the subject.  Reliving how you nearly died is not fun."
 
 "I've been there with you," she reminded him very softly.  "There was 
a very long night 
where you were in a very cold ocean."
 
 He nodded, his mind going back to that nightmare of how he was sure he 
was going to 
die and how there was so much left undone--and unsaid.  And how a 
matter of days later 
he had told the woman whose hand he was now holding to come to him, 
that she knew 
the reason.  Only to find him comforting another. . .
 
 "Harm?"
 
 "Uh. . .sorry.  Totally zoned there."
 
 "I guess so.  Anyway, I was saying that I should be a little 
understanding of Thaddeus 
since apparently I have a little gift of my own."
 
 "Well for now I'm just glad you're OK," he told her, reaching up with 
his free hand to 
touch her cheek, then impulsively leaning down to kiss the same spot.  
 
 "You're sweet," she whispered, her eyes closing.  "Sorry.  Something 
is making me very 
sleepy."
 
 "Which has to be a good thing.  I'm sure your body was traumatized 
again."  He let go of 
her hand and pulled the covers up some.
 
 "Are you staying?"
 
 "Of course."
 ============
 It would be the following morning before Mac was pronounced fit to 
travel, and Harm 
took her home to the farmhouse and breakfast made by an elderly woman 
who had 
started to allow herself to see Sarah Mackenzie as part of the family.  
No matter how she 
scolded herself not to.
 
 "Grams thank you.  I'm starving and that looks and smells great," Mac 
smiled, nodding 
appreciatively to Harm who helped her to her chair.  "The hospital 
brought something on 
a tray but it was like creamed roadkill on toast or something."
 
 "Well I've got something creamed too but it's chip beef and the 
toasting bread is home-
made," Grams assured her.  "How are you feeling dear?"
 
 "Mostly normal thanks.  I don't have a lot of memory what happened, 
and I'm sorry for 
the excitement I caused.  That's not what the youth bargained for."
 
 Grams made a low noise in her throat of disgust.  "And what they saw 
was a woman who 
used to be a nurse saving the life of a near drowning victim.  What 
they saw was a 
charlatan taking total advantage of an almost tragedy to advance his 
own agenda.  In fact 
I feel so strongly about this that I've called Jacob and told him to 
expect me."
 
 "Wow.  I hope she never gets pissed off at me," Mac said, breaking the 
sudden tension 
in the room.
 
 "She kept me in line," Harm smiled.  "Grams would you like me to drive 
you?"
 
 The woman shook her head.  "Harmon I live here alone.  Do I look like 
I need someone to 
run me around?"
 
 "No ma'am."
 
 For the rest of that Thursday Mac rested and recovered while Harm took 
care of some 
things around the farmhouse that needed to be fixed.  Friday, New Years 
Eve, they awoke 
to snow falling.  Mac was standing in the kitchen, staring out over the 
fields when she 
heard Harm's footsteps on the stairs.  Unaccountably her mind drifted 
to something he 
had said when they first arrived, mentioning how he could see himself 
living there in 
retirement.  
 
 "You ready to celebrate New Years Eve?"
 
 She smiled softly and turned around, smiling more broadly to see him 
in his undershirt 
and boxers, robe not quite tied, and his hair falling onto his 
forehead.
 
 "Yes sir.  Starting right now with this coffee.  Join me?"
 
 "You read my mind."
 
 She poured him a mug-full and gave a contented sigh that she did not 
even realize she 
had uttered until she saw his face.  "Yes OK admitting it.  I like it 
here."
 
 "I thought you would.  As for tonight how would you like a big hunky 
sailor to take you 
into New York to celebrate."
 
 "Oh yeah I'd love to meet one of your friends," she teased.  
 
 "Cute.  Seriously would you like to?"
 
 "You know, normally I'd say yeah but somehow spending the evening here 
where it's all 
warm and quiet sounds really much more appealing.  Is that OK?"
 
 "Of course it is.  You want me to invite my friend?"
 
 "Who?  Oh stop.  You're the only hunky sailor I want in my life."  She 
meant the line to 
come off as teasingly as the one he had delivered but instead it came 
out quiet and 
serious.  So serious that he put down his coffee and hooked his finger 
under her chin, 
leaning down to kiss her softly.
 
 "Whoa warn an old lady will you," Grams laughed from the doorway.  
"Sorry." 
 
 Harm completed the kiss before he spoke to his grandmother, though his 
eyes remained 
locked to Mac's face.  "No need for sorry Grams.  But you might want to 
get used to 
this."
  
 He was not prepared for the sound of Mac's sucking in her breath.  
Surprise?  Fear?  A 
little of both.  "You OK?"
 
 "Oh yeah.  I uh. . .I'm fine.  Grams can I help you with breakfast?"
 
 "Please yes," she nodded and sent Harm a curious look.  Harm simply 
shook his head.  
It was a work in progress.
 
 An hour later Grams asked Harm to come take a look at the loft in the 
old barn and Mac 
waved them on, content at that moment in the front room, curled on the 
old over-stuffed 
sofa under an afghan, happily reading with an old movie playing in the 
background.
 
 "Harm about this morning," Grams started as soon as they were out of 
the house.
 
 "Grams no.  It's OK.  Really."
 
 "Well if I'd of known I wouldn't have barged in," she countered, "but 
more to the point 
you know what kind vibes I think it's called I'm getting from you two?"
 
 "Uh. . .you can tell me," he stammered.
 
 "Well first of all that there is this deep undercurrent of connection 
between you that's 
been there forever and won't go away."
 
 "Well you're right so far," he moaned, not surprised.
 
 "I know.  But I also know that the feelings you two share are deep and 
strong, but you're 
ready to have it all out in the open and she's pretty hesitant.  Pretty 
scared."
 
 "I know.  And I can work with that.  I have no intention of pushing 
her."
 
 "Well I'm glad to know that.  She's been hurt in the recent past.  Am 
I right?"
 
 "Aren't you always," he grinned.  "Yeah she's come off a bad two 
years.  Very long story, 
and I don't come off all that good in it myself."
 
 "Big surprise.  If you want a word of advice from an old lady, don't 
push but don't give 
up.  You do love her right?"
 
 "Oh yes ma'am."
 
 "Then like I said, don't give up.  Just don't push."
 
 "Yes ma'am, thank you."
 ============
1158PM
 New Years Eve
 
 "You still awake Marine?" Harm asked softly, looking down to blanket 
wrapped form 
tucked into the crook of his arm.  They were curled together on the 
sofa and Regis on the 
TV was talking his way to midnight, the giant lighted ball was poised.
 
 In reply she poked her arm from the blanket, holding a champagne glass 
of Grams' 
homemade cider.  "I'll make it sir."  With that she pushed herself more 
upright and 
focused on the TV.  
 
 Harm nodded and kissed her forehead, looking across to Grams.  "Happy 
New Year,"
 
 "Well thank you but we've got a minute to go."
 
 "Yes ma'am but at midnight my mouth is planning to be doing something 
else," he 
grinned, holding his breath to sense if Mac would tense.  "Unless she 
minds."
 
 "She does not," Mac said softly, turning his face to hers.  The ball 
dropped.  2005 
arrived.  Their lips met in a soft kiss with a whispered happy new 
year.  A kiss that 
remained soft but also did not stop right away.
 
 "Nice," she breathed when they parted.  
 
 "Oh yeah.  Now let me get you up to bed."
 
 "I'm ready.  Grams, Happy New Year."
 
 "You too dear.  Sleep well."
 
 "Yes ma'am you too and thanks.  I'm looking forward to the day at 
church tomorrow."
 
 "Thanks for wanting to go."
 
 "How can you be looking forward to a day of painting and cleaning 
while hoards of kids 
run through the place and football is on the TV at full blast," Harm 
chided her as he 
guided her up the steep staircase. 
 
 "Sounds like a great time."
 
 "Well it won't be awful I guess," he allowed.  "Plus the food makes it 
worth it.  Grams is 
making cornbread and baked beans."   At that point they were at the 
door to the guest 
room and he opened it for her.  "Good night Mac."
 
 "Night Harm.  Thanks."
 
 "For?"
 
 "You know."
 
 It was at 3AM when Harm got up to use the bathroom that he saw her 
door standing 
open.  From the small lamp at the bedside he could see the bed was 
empty, the covers 
askew across the mattress.
 
 "Mac?"  He kept his voice soft though he knew from experience nothing 
woke Grams 
once she was asleep.  No response.  "Mac where are you?"  A little 
louder this time and 
he discerned a soft rustling downstairs.
 
 "I'm here but I'm OK.  No need to come down."
 
 He hesitated at the top of the steps, his hand on the banister.   
 
 "Unless you want to."  The tinge of longing in her voice made up his 
mind and barefeet 
padded down the steps.  He found her in the kitchen, staring out of the 
large window that 
overlooked the snowy fields.  "Marine what's up?"
 
 "I couldn't sleep.  Eyes wide open," she answered.
 
 "Something wrong?"  Without waiting for an answer he came to stand 
behind her, 
wrapping his arms around her middle, prepared for her to resist.  She 
did in fact 
momentarily stiffen then relaxed and actually leaned back against him.  
 
 "Just that being here is raising feelings inside me I'm not sure how 
to deal with," she 
blurted out.  "Do you have any idea how tired I am of being confused?"
 
 "Well you don't have the market cornered there," he replied slowly.  
"On the other hand, 
my confusion stopped a while back at least in one area.  I know almost 
exact what I 
want."
 
 "Then I'm glad for you," she told him sincerely, ignoring the sudden 
pounding of her 
heart that told her he was speaking of her.  "Even talking to Dr. 
McCool didn't give me a 
lot of clarity.  Some.  Just not a lot.  And you know what scares me 
the most?"

 
 "Why don't you tell me," he offered, his mouth to her ear.
 
 "That by the time I do get this all figured out, you'll have long 
since been done with me."
 
 "No.  Not going to happen," he assured her calmly, rocking her 
slightly as he held her.  
"I don't give up on something that means this much to me."  Carefully 
he turned her to 
face him, his hands going to her shoulders to hold her in place. "Not 
going to happen.  
Look I know these past couple of years have really thrown you and I 
wish I could make it 
better.  Hell I wish I'd done a lot of things differently.  But my 
money is on you.  That 
you'll work through it all."  With that he leaned down and kissed her 
forehead ever so 
gently and released her, adding as he started up the back steps, "don't 
stay down here 
too long in this cold."
 
 "I'll be right up," she called after him, her eyes watching his back.  
"Damn you Clayton 
Webb," she whispered.  "Damn you for loving me and making my life this 
mess."
 
 What she did not know was that Harm was issuing a similar indictment 
while he climbed 
the steps.
 ===========
 Belleville Church of Christ
 Following Day
 
 "Wow there's enough food here to feed the crew of the Seahawk," Mac 
observed, 
handing Harm the container she was carrying.
 
 "We always have a good time doing this," Grams told her.  "Those who 
are in town and 
maybe want to see football but still do something useful with the day.  
This is our indoor 
work day and then on Memorial Day we do the same for the outside.  Harm 
you're not 
wearing the coveralls I put out for you."
 
 "You just noticed?  Grams I'll take my chances with these old jeans 
thanks.  But they do 
a lot for Mac.  She fills them . . .I think I'll quit while I'm ahead.  
Mac please take it easy."
 
 "I will, but I'm going to work for my supper," she laughed.
 
 The sounds of football, pop music and screaming kids filled the 120 
year old building for 
the next several hours.  Then came food, and lots of it.
 
 The afternoon winding down found Mac putting the finishing touches on 
a bookcase she 
was painting in one of the small Sunday school classrooms.  
 
 "You working solo?"
 
 The sudden voice startled her and she wheeled around to face Brother 
Thaddeus. "You 
scared me.  And I just realized I hadn't seen you this afternoon before 
now.  Hiding?"
 
 "Football mixing with hammering, paint fumes and yelling kids isn't 
really my thing," he 
smiled disarmingly.  "Plus I went to New York last night and since it 
was almost dawn 
when I came home I decided to sleep."
 
 "Well whatever floats your boat," she shrugged, inwardly wondering why 
a man who 
wanted to make himself a pastor of the congregation would forego an 
activity of such 
obvious importance to them.  "I think they're just about done anyway."
 
 "Yes.  Looks that way."  He took a few steps into the room and reached 
out his hand, 
ostensibly to take the carton of painting supplies she had picked up.
 
 Cold washed over her at once, sharp biting cold.  Wet icy cold.  She 
backed away, acting 
on instinct and not reason.
 
 "Sarah?"  His voice seemed like it was coming from a long distance.  
Or through icy 
water.  He took another few steps toward her and his hand closed around 
her wrist.  
 
 "Sarah are you all right?"  
 
 Her head moved only enough to allow her to focus where his hand was 
fastened to her 
arm.  His hands were on her in the icy water.  She was gasping for 
breath, lungs filling 
with water instead of life-giving oxygen. 
 
 "Mac you in here?"  Harm's voice.  Her lifeline.  Her touchstone.  She 
opened her mouth 
to speak and only a gurgling sound came out.  "Mac?"
 
 Harm's large figure filled the doorframe and he stopped as soon as he 
saw Thaddeus 
with Mac.  "Everything OK?  Mac?"
 
 She had to clear her throat and swallow twice before she could do more 
than nod.  
"Yeah we're just finishing here.  What's up?"
 
 "Pastor Jacob is having a little prayer gathering since everyone is 
done," he answered, 
his gaze fixed to Thaddeus who feeling the intensity released Mac's 
arm.  At once Harm 
came to them, putting a protective arm around her back to lead her from 
the room.
 
 "Sarah I'll talk to later before you leave," Thaddeus called after 
them, a pronouncement 
neither acknowledged.
 
 "OK what was that all about?" he demanded as soon as they were in the 
corridor.  "And 
you're not OK are you?  You're all trembly."
 
 "I'm fine really," she insisted.  "I just got real chilled all of a 
sudden.  It's nothing."
 
 "Well I don't believe that but come on.  It's warm in the Hall and 
then we're ready to go."
 
 "Yeah.  It's our last night here."
 
 "I'm detecting a note of sadness," he told her hopefully.
 
 "Guilty."  
 
 He tightened his arm around her.  There was hope still.
 
 The bright lights and warmth of fifty bodies made the Hall a welcoming 
place to her and 
she gladly took her place between Harm and Grams.  Pastor Jacob offered 
one last 
prayer for the new year and Thaddeus added some words about how being 
grateful for 
the blessings and gifts the Lord had bestowed on him.
 
 Beside Harm Mac felt herself grow chilled once more as she heard the 
man speak, and 
this time she managed to keep Harm from noticing.
 
 "Harm I hope you don't mind but I volunteered us three to help clean 
up what mess is 
left in the kitchen," Grams told them as soon as the group broke up.  
"It shouldn't take 
long."
 
 "Well I think Mac is pretty well up to here," he replied.  "Maybe she 
could stand down."  
A long look from the Marine told him not likely.  Twenty minutes later 
the kitchen was all 
but finished and only the Rabb group and a few stragglers remained.  
Pastor Jacob and 
his family among them, along with Thaddeus.
 
 "I guess we're ready," Grams announced, deciding the kitchen was back 
to normal.  
"Where's Mac?"
 
 "Here Grams," she called.  "There's a cupcake that rolled under here 
and made a mess. 
I'm fishing it out and then be right with you."
 
 "Let me give you a hand," Thaddeus offered, reaching out to her.  His 
hands came 
toward her and it was as if he had poured a bucket of ice water onto 
her.  She gave a 
sharp cry of distress, her eyes wide with sudden fear.  The feeling in 
her chest returned.  
Dirty icy water instead of air being drawn into her lungs, paralyzing 
their function, 
bringing death to the forefront of her thoughts.
 
 "You tried to kill me," she said softly, instinctively assuming a 
defensive posture as best 
she could given her crouched position.
 
 "What?  What are you saying? Sarah?  No Sarah No," he gasped, reaching 
out and this 
time putting his hand around her upper arm.  "Sarah you don't know what 
you're saying.  
I saved you.  Twice.  First I pulled you out of the water and then by 
God's divine power I 
sent life back into your body."
 
 The terror of those several minutes came rushing back to her in wide 
screen 
technicolor.  Her memory had been fuzzy from both the physical shock 
and the mental 
anguish of someone she had known, albeit briefly, who would do that to 
her. Fuzzy at 
first but no longer.  It was clear now.
 
 "You--tried--to--kill--me."  Mac shouted, finding her full voice, and 
her inner fury at the 
same time.
 
 "Mac?"  Harm had been too busy packing up their empty food containers 
to notice the 
little drama playing out until he heard her scream.  The Tupperware 
fell from his hand 
and he sprinted across the floor, somehow not surprised to see Thaddeus 
involved.
 
 At that moment that Mr. Provost was a man of the cloth did not 
register.  Harm knew 
only Mac was on the floor obviously upset and this man was hovering 
intimidatingly over 
her.  "Move," he ordered harshly, grabbing Thaddeus's arm and pulling 
him roughly 
away from her.  "Mac you OK?  What the hell is going on?"  
 
 She took a long ragged breath, and held her hand out to Harm for his 
help in getting up.  
He took it and pulled her to her feet, only to have her knees buckle as 
soon as she put 
weight on her legs. At once he pulled her to him, supporting her almost 
completely.  To 
touch her skin was to touch ice, with cold radiating from her.
 
 "Look I'm sorry I upset her.  I'll just go upstairs and let you calm 
her down," Thaddeus 
offered, taking a whole half step before Harm's arm shot out and his 
hand clamped down 
on the preacher's upper arm.  Painfully.
 
 "Take another step and it will be without this arm attached to your 
body," he growled.  
"Mac talk to me honey.  What's happened?  What about this guy is making 
you upset."
 
 "She's obviously hyster. . ."  That was as far as Thaddeus got before 
having to emit a 
gasp of pain.
 
 "Harm please, this is a house of the Lord," Jacob begged before Mac 
could speak.  
"Grams tell your grandson. . ."
 
 "This may be a house of God but it's sounding like one of His 
emissaries is an attempted 
murderer," Harm interrupted coldly.  "Now everyone shut up.  I want to 
hear from Mac.  
And Pastor Jacob when I've calmed down--if I've calmed down--I'll 
apologize.  Grams to 
you too."
 
 Mac hesitated as she looked from one to the other of those gathered 
around her, gulping 
hard when her eyes met Thaddeus's.  Grams walked over to her, placing a 
gentle hand 
on her shoulder and her gentle town brought tears to Mac's eyes.  "Dear 
we want to know 
what happened.  Did Thaddeus hurt you?"
 
 "He held me under the water after I fell in until I couldn't breathe," 
she whispered, 
encouraged by a small nod from Harm.  "It was like being in a bathtub 
full of ice water.  I 
tried to get away from him but it was like my brain and muscles froze 
because I was so 
cold.  Then just about the time it started to get warm, he pulled me 
out.  I'm not disputing 
that he did get me out of the water, but he held me in there at first."
 
 "Lady you are out of your mind," Thaddeus declared.  "I told you not 
to walk out there, 
but you said you'd be fine and then you slipped and fell.  I grabbed 
you and yanked you 
out.  You surely would have drowned if not for me."
 
 "I wouldn't have needed to be rescued at all if not for you," she 
yelped, some of her 
spirit returning to combine with her indignation. "Told me not to walk 
out there?  The hell 
you did.  You were encouraging me to try the ice.  I was just too 
stupid to know better."
 
 "I'm tempted to make a citizen's arrest right now for attempted 
murder," Harm spat.
 
 "And be laughed out of the sheriff's office?" Thaddeus hooted.  "Good 
lord Rabb you're 
a lawyer and you know there's no evidence.  My word against hers.  The 
word of a 
preacher who saved this woman's life. Why would I have any reason to 
hurt her?  I 
happen to wish I could get to know her better."
 
 Harm stared at the man for a long moment.  The motivation for such an 
act was not 
something he had yet determined.
 
 "It's pretty simple," Mac spoke up, gaining confidence and courage 
from Harm's belief in 
her and his arms around her.  "Angel of mercy."
 
 "I'm not following," Grams protested, looking more than confused.
 
 "It's like when a doctor or nurse deliberately makes a patient go into 
cardiac arrest so 
that they can rush in and save him," Harm said slowly, digesting the 
idea.
 
 "Thaddeus is this true?" Jacob demanded sharply.
 
 "You know I wouldn't do anything like that," Thaddeus returned.  "Look 
I can understand 
her being confused and all.  It was a real shock to her body to be 
dumped into that water.  
I'm sorry Sarah.  Maybe you would like to do some counseling?  I'm told 
I'm extremely 
easy to talk to."
 
 "You pompous sonofa. . ." Harm gasped.  "Maybe Sheriff Kessler can 
talk some sense 
into you."
 
 "Harm he's right," Mac sighed.  
 
 "About what?"
 
 "About it being impossible to prove.  My word against his.  Mine that 
says his hands 
were holding me under.  His that says he was trying to pull me out.  
And he did save my 
life in the end if we ignore that he was the one causing me to be in 
trouble."
 
 "Are you saying you don't want to press charges?" Harm asked her 
gently.  
 
 "Wouldn't do any good.  He'll hire some slick lawyer who'll take me 
apart in court and 
besides I'll have to face him again.  No.  All I want to do is walk out 
of here and never see 
him again."
 
 "Well I'm going to do something," Grams spoke up, rising to her full 
height which 
equaled five feet nothing if she exaggerated.  "I'm going to make sure 
every member of 
this congregation knows what you've been accused of.  And I'm going to 
appear before 
the board of elders to testify in person what happened here tonight."  
She took a deep 
breath and turned to Jacob.  "I'm sorry Pastor.  I know he's blood to 
you, but he's not an 
honorable man, and he's not a man of God.  Not in my book.  
Harm--Sarah, we're out of 
here."
 
 "Yes ma'am."  Harm pulled Mac to his side and gave Thaddeus a long 
glare.  "Right now 
mister you'd best thank that God you think you serve so well we're in 
His House, 
because if we were anywhere else, I'd be taking you apart right now."
 
 They rode home to the farmhouse in silence.  Once inside the warm 
kitchen, Harm 
reached for Mac only to have her pull her arm away.  "I need some 
time," she whispered.  
"If it wasn't so cold I'd walk so I'll have to settle for a long soak 
instead."  
 
 Harm once again tried to take hold of her and this time Grams stopped 
him.  "Harm, she 
needs a little time to let this all sink in.  She knows where you are 
if she needs you.  Me 
too for that matter Sarah if you want to talk."
 
 "Thanks Grams."  She reached up to touch the back of her hand very 
briefly to Harm's 
cheek and when she got to the back steps she turned to him.  "So many 
men in my life 
have managed to disappoint me or betray me.  I can't help thinking 
there must be 
something wrong with me."  Before he could answer she had fled up the 
steps.
 
 "She was including me in that indictment," Harm sighed, dropping onto 
a kitchen chair.
 
 "Of that I have no doubt," Grams smiled softly.  "You're a man dear.  
That's what your 
gender does.    Is this true?  Has she had all the men in her life to 
let her down in one way 
or another?"

"I'm afraid so. Me included. Grams is it OK if I just go upstairs and 
kind of be there in 
case she needs me?"

"Of course.  I'm ready to get out of these clothes and see if there's 
something on TV 
other than football myself.  If you two need me, you know where I am."

"Thanks Grams.  You're the best."

"I know," she smiled, making it obvious that Harm's smile came partly 
from her.
===============

"Mac holler if you want to talk," Harm yelled, giving the old wooden 
bathroom door a few 
quick knocks.  "You OK?"

"Yes."

He waited for more to come and when it did not, simply walked to the 
room he was using, 
dropping heavily onto the bed.  It had been his bedroom while he and 
his Mom were 
living with Grams.  Before Frank.  Before California.  The last time he 
resided in it 
regularly had been the summer of Plebe Camp.  No.  That was not quite 
right.  There were 
long weeks when he was staying at the farm recovering from his ramp 
strike.  Opting for 
the quiet of the fields and mountains over the ocean and people coming 
and going that 
was his mother's home in LaJolla.  

Now he was reduced to spending the occasional weekend there; and even 
then, he 
reminded himself guiltily, not as often as he should.

At the same time Mac sank lower into the old clawfoot tub, letting the 
water cover her up 
to her nostrils.  Men.  Men who disappointed her.  Men who let her 
down.  Men who could 
not be what--who--she wanted them to be.  Men who were not. . .Harm.  
Chris Ragle--
participant in her self-destruction of the time.  John 
Farrow--forbidden indulgence.  
Dalton Lowne--betrayer of trust.  Mic Brumby--man of uncertain motives.  
Clayton Webb--
professing his love with loyalty that did not match. Various other 
short term 
relationships.  And now her Mr. Rabb.  If she stilled her movement in 
the water she could 
hear him in the room just across the hall.  If ever there was love in 
her life, it was there.  
What was wrong with her that she could not just let it happen.  Just 
let go.  Obviously he 
had accomplished that feat.  "You are certifiable Mackenzie," she 
moaned, sinking even 
deeper.

Eventually she had to emerge, slipping into some soft worn sweat pants 
and shirt and 
coming to sit cross-legged on Harm's bed.  "There's a place in heaven 
for you putting up 
with me."

"Thank you," he grinned.  "You look a little more relaxed."

"I look awful thank you."

"Right.  Don't argue with a lady.  So how do you feel about going home 
tomorrow?"

She shrugged.  "Whenever we travel for JAG, I always like getting away 
but I'm always 
glad to be back to my own apartment.  But this place.  It's special.  
It's almost magical.  
Why is that anyway?"

"Because it's old," he replied at once.  "I think about that all the 
time when I'm here.  This 
house in some form or other has been here for two hundred fifty years.  
And it's known a 
lot of love and family.  It's a tradition I want to continue.  One I am 
going to continue in 
fact.  At twenty."

"I can't imagine you not being in the Navy."

"Hey for a whole summer a couple years ago remember."

"But it wasn't really you."

"No it wasn't.  But being here will be."

"Yeah."  Her voice was so quiet she was barely audible. Silence ensued 
until finally she 
rolled from the bed.  "I'm going down and get some tea and sit with 
Grams.  Join me?"

"Sounds like a plan."
==============
FOLLOWING AFTERNOON

"Harm you're sure you don't mind?"

"Grams if you ask me that again I'm going to start," he warned.  
"Please it's not a 
problem.  We've got the whole day to get back and it's only four 
hours--well maybe five--
if we hit inbound traffic on 270.  So stop fussing.  Is that the box?"

"Mrs. Krumholtz will be so pleased."

"At least I've gotten too tall for her to pat me on the head," he 
groaned, taking the box of 
food and clothes from the floor to the car.

"Grams thank you for everything," Mac whispered, feelings tears 
threaten as she gave 
the older woman a long hug.  

"Please come back."

"I will.  Promise."

"Harmon David you take care of this girl," Grams ordered when she 
released her.

"Yes ma'am but truth be told she takes care of me.  You can be sure I 
won't let her out of 
my life.  Not willingly."  The words flowed from his mouth, surprising 
both himself and 
Mac with their intensity.

"You heard him," Grams encouraged.

"Yes ma'am. I did."  She kissed her still smooth cheek and climbed into 
the SUV.  Harm 
joined her as soon as he gave Grams his usual hug and with tires 
spattering snow 
behind them they took off.  

"I didn't hear the whole story here," Mac spoke up.  "We're detouring 
north and taking a 
care package is that right?"

"Yeah basically.  One of five hundred people around here Grams has 
known forever. 
When she married she moved to the other side of that mountain right 
there and has lived 
there all her life, just like Grams, except of course Grams grew up 
just down the road and 
she's ten years older.  Well she's not like Grams, not able to drive.  
Her daughter is living 
with her and she's in her seventies herself and won't drive those 
mountain roads in the 
winter so she's pretty dependent on people.  I knew you wouldn't mind."

"No not at all.  I get to see more of the countryside.  And this snow 
is a plus.  It's 
beautiful." 

"Yeah."

"Harm I didn't like the sound of that.  What aren't you telling me?"

"That the roads in the mountains here can get really bad really fast," 
he frowned, upping 
the both the wiper and defroster speeds.  "I wouldn't care if it was 
just me so much but I 
hate the thought of putting you at risk."

"I trust you," she smiled, finding some music on the radio and pulling 
out the book she 
was reading.  "I mean you flew me across Russia in a MiG didn't you."

"Yeah and look how well that turned out."

"We'll be fine."

They reached the home and left off the box without difficulty, and by 
the time they were 
back on the road the snow was blinding.  Except that it was not all 
snow.  The 
temperature was hovering at freezing--too warm for pure snow, too cold 
for real rain.  Ice.  
More deadly than deep snow.  

"Should we go back to the farm and just call the Duty Desk?" Mac asked 
quietly, not 
wanting to distract him from his driving.

"I think once we're on the highway we'll be OK, and to go back to 
Grams' requires ten 
miles of these narrow roads that getting to the highway doesn't," he 
replied, not taking 
his eyes from the road.  "You still trust me?"

"With my life," she smiled.

"I hope it won't come to that."

Not five minutes later it did.  From the opposite direction on the two 
lane road came 
another car, small and light, this driver obviously not possessing the 
winter driving skills 
of Harmon Rabb as he careened around the curve up ahead of Harm's SUV 
and headed 
for them.

"He's going to hit us," Mac gasped.

"Like Hell," Harm hissed and turned the wheel sharply, desperate to get 
them out of the 
path of the errant vehicle, Their SUV hit the soft shoulder to the 
right and rocked 
violently into the ditch.  At the same time the other driver also took 
evasive action but 
with the little control he had of his car.  The impact was muffled by 
the wet but was still 
loud as the driver over-corrected, sending the car off the road into 
the rock wall.  From 
there it bounced off, spinning several times before coming to a halt. 

"This is starting to get real familiar," Mac panted.  "Harm you OK?"

"Yeah I think so," he whispered uncertainly.

"Harm?"  Her concern mounted and she unfastened her belt to allow 
herself to get to 
him.  Gentle fingers pushed hair back from his forehead and she turned 
his head to face 
her.  "Harm please."

"I'm OK really."  Her tender concern touched his heart and he caught 
her hand.  "I just 
had my bell rung a little.  Other car?"

"Can't even see it."  She gestured to the windows, all blocked with 
snow in just the short 
minute since the crash.  "Can we get out?"

"Not on your side and I wouldn't want you to try.  You could sink bad 
in the snow even if 
you get the door open.  I'll get out here and you follow me."  He 
opened his door and 
despite the crazy angle of the SUV, jumped to the ground, staggering 
just slightly as the 
got his bearings. "OK Marine, let's have you."

She half jumped/half fell into Harm's waiting arms, giving him a quick 
nod that she was 
all right.  As the approached the other car, traveling to them on the 
wind came an 
anguished cry.  A woman's voice screaming out a man's name.  "Trent 
answer me.  Trent 
please.  Tre-nnnt."

Harm held Mac back as they reached the car.  "I smell gas and there's 
already smoke 
from under the hood.  Be careful."

She nodded and reached the woman first.  She was reaching in through 
the door that 
had sprung open but only a few inches, trying to get to the man slumped 
over into the 
remains of the airbag, resting against the steering wheel that had been 
pushed up 
against his chest from the impact.  "He wouldn't wear his seatbelt," 
she wailed.  "Not 
even in this weather. I couldn't make him.  I told him someday he was 
going to. . oh god 
help him please."

Harm took one look at the situation and grabbed for his cell phone, 
calling Sheriff 
Kessler's office rather than 911.  He would have to try to explain to a 
911 operator where 
he was whereas as soon as he gave his location, the sheriff would know 
and would get 
help on the way.

"OK ma'am calm now please," Mac begged.  "I'm Sarah.  And I know this 
is Trent.  We're 
going to help."

"I'm Kathy," she whispered, fighting panicked tears.  "Please help him.  
He's my whole 
life."

Mac sucked in her breath and said nothing, looking to Harm for 
guidance.  The Naval 
officer was tugging to get the door more open without success.  The 
damage was too 
great.  "I'll get him out from the other side."

Mac and Kathy watched him climb across the front seat and as soon as he 
reached Trent 
he looked up and shook his head.  There was a pulse and the man was 
breathing, albeit 
shallowly, but he was pinned fast by the steering wheel.  The airbag 
had saved his life 
upon impact, but it could not stop the force of the steering column's 
crash into his chest.

"Trent you hang tight now.  I'm going to get you out," Harm told him, 
scrambling from the 
car, not waiting to see if he had been heard.  There was one chance.  
In the well of his 
SUV he kept assorted emergency supplies--jumper cables, blankets, a 
length of nylon 
climbing rope.  Nylon for its compactness and strength.  The shattered 
windshield would 
provide the entry for the rope to fasten around the steering wheel and 
surely his SUV 
would have enough power to pull it off the injured man, at least enough 
to get him out.  
"Mac stay with Kathy.  I've got this," he flung over his shoulder.

"You think he can do anything?" Kathy whispered fearfully.

"I think he's got a plan," Mac assured her.  From beneath the car there 
came a sudden 
brightness.  From what had been just smoldering there now came a small 
flame.  A flame 
looking for fuel to feed it.  "Harm hurry," she called unnecessarily.

What Harm had not planned on was the predicament of his own vehicle.  
It took several 
tries and several wasted minutes before he managed to get it from the 
ditch and backed 
into place.  By now the flame was larger, and the smell of gas 
stronger.  He drew a deep 
breath, panting from the exertion.  He looked at Mac and then to the 
fire, wanting with 
every fiber of his being to order her away, and knowing with that same 
fiber there was no 
chance she would go.

"Please God keep her safe," he whispered, turning his attention to the 
task at hand.

"Kathy that fire is getting worse," Mac whispered at the same time.  
"Uh. . .I don't know 
exactly how to say this but maybe you want to say something. . ."  She 
looked at the 
younger woman helplessly, trying to convey that this could be the only 
chance she had 
to say goodbye to this man whom she obviously loved.  At least that's 
how she would 
feel if it were. . .her mind refused to go there.  Refused to even 
consider there might be a 
time when she would have to watch Harm die.

Kathy sobbed long and hard with her head turned from her husband, then 
reached inside 
the car for his hand.  Mac stepped away, giving them their moment, 
shuddering inwardly 
to keep her own emotions repressed.  

Harm brought a blanket to cover Trent with.  "OK you two get back from 
there now.  
There could be flying debris.  I'm just going to move it enough to 
slide him out."  He 
glanced at the fire and shook his head.  Time was being measured now in 
seconds.

The steering wheel came away from Trent's chest in a giant scream of 
metal and plastic 
shattering.  Mac held on to Kathy's arm, turning her away from the 
debris shower and 
then released her, allowing her to reach her husband first.  "He's 
still alive," she panted, 
trying to take him from the seat without success.  

"Kathy let me help," Mac ordered, knowing Harm would be there a few 
seconds later.  
The three of them did manage to get hold of the injured man, who was 
alternately 
screaming and moaning with the pain of movement.  

"This thing is about to light up," Harm warned, taking as much of 
Trent's weight as he 
could.  His prediction came true exactly five seconds later.  There was 
a great whooshing 
sound as the fire sucked in massive amounts of air and gas, then 
released them in a 
huge fireball, the force of which knocked the three rescuers forward 
into the snow, 
tearing the injured victim from their grasp.

"Mac you OK?"  Harm rolled to her side, her well-being first on his 
mind.

"Not hurt," she replied.  "You?"

"We were really lucky."  He got to his feet and brought her up with 
him, unable to resist 
giving her a long hug.  A hug which she had started to shrug from to 
help Kathy and 
Trent, and then suddenly returned twice-over.  For there in the snow, 
Kathleen Trent was 
cradling her dying husband.  Bent low over his body, she rocked him 
back and forth, 
sobbing softly as she told him of her love.

"Harm."  Mac clung to him, repeated his name and the gave up what she 
was attempting 
to say.  The words would not come.

The next three hours passed in a soft blur. Sheriff Kessler mobilized 
help and got them 
all to the hospital. Mac and Harm stayed with Kathy until her sister 
arrived, finally getting 
back to DC at midnight.

"We'll sort all this out tomorrow," Harm assured her, walking her to 
her apartment.  "You 
get some rest tonight."
 
"I will.  Promise,  You too." she murmured.  "Good night."

"Night honey," he whispered, his hands resting on her shoulders and 
making no move to 
leave.  

"You need to go.  You're exhausted too."

"Yeah.  Well like I said, we'll have some time to sort everything 
through."

"Yeah.  I need that."  She swallowed hard and this time, the kiss was 
her idea. Soft and 
sweet.  "Good night."

And then he was gone.

By the time Harm reached his apartment he was wired and not at all 
ready to sleep. 
Exhausted and sleepy were not the same--a fact he learned in the 
cockpit many years 
before.  At 3AM he was dozing in front of the TV, the CNN announcer 
droning softly when 
his doorbell rang.  Like a phone ringing in the wee hours of the 
morning, the doorbell 
sent a bolt of fear through him and he nearly killed himself bumping 
into furniture as the 
made his way to the door, not stopping to use the peephole.  "Mac?  
What?  How. . ." he 
stammered.

"I couldn't sleep," she whispered sheepishly.  "I thought maybe we 
could talk.  Now."

As it turned out what they had to say could be rolled into three simple 
words.  One 
simple ideal. A simple acknowledgement of how they felt and what they 
wanted. 

It was not so complicated after all.  

Love seldom is.

THE END