PART XII


September 14, 2010

I follow behind the search party as they make their way up a mountain path on
foot. Someone makes a comment about some shed that belongs to some old guy from
town that the park service keeps taking down but he keeps putting right back up.
Maybe the 'victims' are there.

Victims. Survivors. They keep changing the name as we go along and I'm not sure
who's the real victim here anymore. And I'm really not sure who's going to
survive.

Sergeant Janson falls behind the search and rescue team and the park rangers and
walks beside me.

"If they survived the crash, the next biggest problem will be surviving the
elements. I'm assuming since they're both in the military, they have enough
survival training to get them by?" he asks, looking at me with sympathetic eyes.


"Captain Rabb was a fighter pilot. He's been in some pretty bad situations
before. And Sarah, she's a Marine," I say. That's all I have to say. She's a
Marine and she'll make it through this.

"Good. Good. I'm pretty sure we'll find them today. The moon's still bright . .
." he starts to say and then the ringing of my cell phone interrupts him. "I
remember the days when those things didn't work out in the woods."

"Yeah," I say and he walks away, giving me some privacy.

"Brumby here," I say and immediately someone is barking in my ear.

"I told you to keep me in the loop, Brumby!" I cringe at the sound of Admiral
Chegwidden's voice. I don't thinks he's as upset at me as he sounds but rather
upset over the lack of control any of us have in this situation.

"I'm sorry. It's been . . . it's been quite an ordeal, sir," I say and I'm met
with silence.

"I'm sorry, too. It's just that two of my senior officers have been missing for
days now and no one can tell me a damn thing. Are those people they have
searching for them going to find them? What can you tell me about the
situation?" he asks.

"All I know is they weren't dead when the plane crashed. There were no bodies
recovered from the crash site. We're searching the surrounding area for them now
and some people from the local PD and the park rangers are working together on
it. It's just a matter of time," I say, looking up towards the sky. It looks
like it might rain again soon. I pray that it holds off until we find them. Out
of all of this, God could at least give me that much.

"Brumby . . . Mic . . . I just . . ."

"Let's not worry about that now, sir. We don't know anything yet," I say,
shuddering at my lie. He doesn't have to know what I do. He doesn't need to know
about all the little planes hidden in a box in Sarah's closet. For all he knows,
Harm and Sarah were just up flying. I don't need to deal with anything else at
the moment, especially the UCMJ.

"I hate to say this Brumby, but right now, she's with the best possible . . ."

"I know that, sir," I say cutting him off. I've fallen behind the rest of the
group and am going to have to end this soon if I hope to catch up. "I'm sorry I
didn't call you before I left home. I'll keep you up to date with anything
else."

"Please do," he says and I know he wants to say something else but he isn't sure
what that should be so I save him the trouble.

"I really have to go. I'll call when we find out more," I say, hanging up before
he can say anything else. I tuck my phone back into my pocket and hurry to catch
up with the search party.

**************

June 6, 2009

I never considered what I'd do when it was over. How I would feel not hearing
his voice for months on end and what it would be like realizing he was never
coming back to me.

Now I know. I try to spend my days immersing myself into my work and my child. I
focus on rebuilding this marriage I'm in which isn't easy because Mic doesn't
even know it needs rebuilding. All these years he has thought I was perfectly
happy and content. He never would have guessed at what was actually going on.

I know I have to tell Mic someday. I'll have to tell him all of it, including
what I know about May, and then face the consequences. I have no idea what he'll
do. I don't know if he'll stay or go.

Today isn't the day to tell him. I stare at myself in the mirror, all dressed up
for a banquet we have to attend. At least it isn't one of mine but rather it's
for him. I don't feel like putting on a happy face for the people I know and his
friends and colleagues usually just smile at me and nod. I'm not in their
corporate world and they never know quite what to make of me.

I smooth my hand over the front of my dress and then run my fingers through my
hair. No one would ever guess I just spent an hour crying in the shower. Not
even Mic could tell. He was too busy with May and the sitter we hired for the
evening.

Closing my eyes, I steel my mind against the thoughts that keep trying to creep
in. I can hear his words so clearly still. I can hear Harm asking me to leave
Mic for him. I can hear him and feel him and taste him . . .

"You ready, luv?" Mic asks, putting his hand on my shoulder. He shakes me from
my thoughts and I jump at his touch.

"Yes, I'm ready," I say, looking at our reflection in the mirror. He runs his
hand down my arm, still touching me like he did years ago, still looking like he
could never love anyone as much as he loves me.

I have to look away from the reflection before it makes me cry. I can't start
crying again.

"You okay, Sarah?" he asks and I nod, my eyes looking up to meet his again in
the mirror. "You've been so unhappy lately. I thought if we stayed in the
States, you'd be happier than you are."

Surely he must suspect that right now it has nothing to do with living in
Australia or America. My husband can't be that stupid. He knew that Rabb was
supposed to come back and didn't. Everybody must know it.

"I'm just tired, Mic. Work . . . I thought I was getting help," I say with a
weak smile, trying to lower what he was going to be to me to lowest possible
station that I can.

"Since Captain Rabb seems so happy where he is, maybe you can talk to the
Admiral about bringing someone else on staff. You need to spend more time with
your family. At least until you're over these blues," he says and I nod. That's
all I've done lately. Work and spend time with Mic and May. That's all there is
keeping me going right now.

"I'll talk to him Monday. I just don't want to appear weak," I say, sniffling.
God, if I go in like this, he'll think I'm not only weak but crazy.

"I don't think anyone will ever think Sarah MacKenzie is weak," Mic says,
turning me around and wrapping me in his embrace.

**************

She steps out of the golf cart, shading her eyes with her hand for a second as
she takes a look at the harbor below.

"It's a beautiful place, Harm. I can see why you don't want to leave," she says,
giving me a quick smirk before she moves out of sight.

"Who would want to leave paradise?" I ask, also getting out of the cart and
following her to the golf bags strapped on the back.

"Apparently, not you," she says again, carefully selecting the right club for
the shot. I watch her as she ambles up to the tee, sets her golf ball on it and
lines up her swing. She hasn't used the women's tee off position once since we
started playing. I didn't think she would.

"See, Senator, I had to move out here in order to get you to visit me. All those
years in DC and you only showed up when work was involved," I say and Bobbi
Latham turns to me, losing her focus on the ball.

"What makes you think this isn't about work?" she asks before returning her eye
to the ball and swinging at it hard. Both of our eyes follow it as it arcs down
the green and lands in the perfect spot. She's much better at this than I am. If
she were to be playing alone, she'd be done by now.

I get the feeling she doesn't want to play alone today. It's much more fun to
play with me when she's in one of these moods.

"I'm sure it's about work. I doubt you, a full member of the U.S. Senate
Committee on Armed Services, would be in Pearl Harbor for the relaxing view. By
the way, did I ever say congratulations on winning a seat on the Senate?" I say,
knowing full well that I had not. She doesn't answer, but instead circles around
me as I line up my shot and take it. My ball lands somewhere in the rough quite
a distance short of hers. Damn, I need more practice.

"You could have at least sent flowers. Or a card," she says and I just shrug my
shoulders as we get back into the cart and move in the direction of our balls.

"I was probably busy. Looking at the view. Enjoying paradise," I say, nodding
towards Pearl Harbor and the naval station.

"This happened before you left DC and you know it. One of these days I'm going
to figure out why your head was so far up your six that you didn't even notice,"
she says and I tighten my grip on the steering wheel. I've been trying to forget
why that was so. Bobbi showing up only serves as a reminder of the life I
apparently walked away from.

We get out of the cart again near the rough where my ball landed. She stands off
to the side, her arms crossed over her chest as she watches me set up my shot.
She has some smug smile of gratification on her face and I'm not sure whether
it's due to the fact that she's a better shot than I am or something else.

Once my ball is ahead of hers and we get back in the cart, I finally ask.

"What business brings you out here, Bobbi?"

I should have asked when she first showed up at my office yesterday afternoon
but she was in and out so fast we barely had time to arrange a meeting for
today. It was only this morning that I discovered it would be at the country
club.

"The business of bringing you back to DC," she says with a smile as we chase her
ball down the green.

******************

I watch as my husband proudly accepts his award and makes a short speech. I
listen to him thank me and tell a room full of people that he couldn't have done
any of this without my love and support. I can almost feel my heart break as he
looks at me and smiles, happy that I'm the one he's going home with from here.

Damn him. I wish he would just hate me or be mean to me or do anything that
would make me feel that I was just for the things I've done to him all these
years. Not just the affair, but May. I should have told him years ago instead of
living some soap opera drama of paternity questions and lies. Love makes you do
stupid things. Mic shakes the hand of some fancy DC lawyer and then exits the
stage, the smile never leaving his face as he sits down next to me again.

"How'd I do?" he asks, his eyes searching mine.

"You did great, Mic. It was a beautiful speech. Thank you," I say, unable to
hold his stare any longer.

"I meant every word of it, luv. Without you, I don't know where I'd be right
now. Probably not even on this continent," he says with a quick laugh. His hand
covers mine as we listen to the presentation wrap up and the host invite us to
dance our hearts out for the rest of the evening. The orchestra quickly starts
playing some big band number and couples leave their tables, everybody looking
so happy.

I watch as he stands up and presents me his hand.

"Come dance with me, Sarah."

I put my hand in his as he leads me to the dance floor. It's crowded but Mic
looks at me as if there's not another person in the world. In his eyes, maybe
that's the case. I just wish with all my heart I felt the same way about him.

I can pretend for just one night that there has never been anyone else. It's the
least I can do for him. I smile and focus only on him, suppressing any other
thoughts that might want to trickle into my mind.

If I can do this for one night, I can do it for two. And then three. And then
for the rest of my life.

"It really was a beautiful speech," I say again and that makes him smile
brightly. It takes so little to make Mic happy. All these years and it's only
taken me to make him happy. Thousands of miles from his home and he's still
happy because I'm here and May is here.

And I can't fight the feeling that I'd throw this away in a heartbeat if Harm
would just come back to me. But he isn't. He's made that clear. Whatever
happened between us must have scared him off. How typical.

So now I will get through one day and then two days and I will get over this.

Mic leans closer and kisses me gently and I respond. He deserves all my
attention at least for tonight.

******************

"There's someone in DC who would make a perfectly fine JAG, so I don't have any
clue why you came all this way . . . besides the fact that I can't believe you
wouldn't be pushing for a woman to have that chair," I say, taking a sip of my
wine and looking away from her. Bobbi's been watching me with this funny smirk
all afternoon and I'd wish she'd stop.

"I would like the most qualified person in that chair," she says and I turn to
her, my eyebrow raised at her comment. "Male or female. But in order for that to
happen, the most qualified male has to appear at least a bit interested."

"I didn't think Admiral Chegwidden planned on retiring for several more years.
Why concern yourself with this now?" I ask and she leans back in her chair and
ponders the question. "For that matter, why concern yourself with it at all? Now
that you're a Senator, I would think you have better things to be concerned
with."

"The SECNAV is just curious . . ."

"Is he now?" I ask, finding that hard to believe. Secretary Nelson retired due
to health complications shortly after I transferred to Pearl Harbor, but I
always assumed he warned his successor about me.

"Yes, he is. He and I have been discussing this and he thinks eventually you'd
be the perfect candidate. Even though you're hiding out in Hawaii," she says,
finishing up her wine. I offer her more from the bottle at our table and she
accepts.

"I don't know why you think I'm hiding here. You keep saying that," I say and
practically rolls her eyes at me.

"Captain Rabb, you're hiding. I don't know from what but I doubt you've ever
hidden from anything in your life before this," she says and I look away. She
doesn't have to know why I decided to stay here. It wouldn't make any sense to
her anyway. It has nothing to do with career motivations and I'm not sure Bobbi
understands anything outside of the realm of one's career.

"I've hidden before," I say, looking straight at her.

"After you lost your wings?" she asks and I nod.

"My grandmother's farm. I spent some time restoring a plane my dad bought when I
was a kid and I spent a lot of time thinking," I say with a sigh. I miss my
plane and not just because I miss flying it.

"Well, you didn't crash into anything before you transferred here. I'm sorry
about your mother, but I don't think that's enough of a reason for you to stay
here this long. And most of all, I know you're hiding from something because you
were in to see Admiral Chegwidden just last September about coming back to JAG
HQ. So I have to figure out what happened after you took that meeting," she says
with a certain glint in her eyes that lets me know she just isn't going to let
this go.

"Nothing happened," I say, trying my best to lie. "I'm needed here."

"You don't have some island girl living with you, do you?" she asks and I laugh.


"No! I haven't lived with anyone in years," I say as I try to turn this whole
thing around. "How about you? How come there's no Mr. Senator Latham right now?"

It's her turn to squirm just a little. "Never met the right guy," she says,
dismissing me with a wave of her hand.

"Really?" I ask and she laughs.

"Or else he never asked," she adds, looking squarely at me. I shift my glance
elsewhere, trying to figure out just what to say. I like Bobbi. I always have.
She's fun to be around and great in bed. It was just never going to go anywhere
and we both knew it. Maybe that's why she's here on this 'working' vacation of
hers. Maybe it has nothing to do with getting me back to DC so much as it has to
do with having a good time for a few days.

Sex without life changing consequences. Now that's an idea I haven't had the
pleasure of experimenting with for a long time.

"Where are you staying?" I ask and that catches her attention.

"Why do you care?"

"I care," I say and she smiles.

"I'm staying at Halekulani," she finally answers and I whistle in appreciation.

"And here I thought you were working and would be staying at the BOQ . . ."

"Right," she says laughing at the thought. "Don't worry. The taxpayers aren't
subsidizing my hotel costs. I'm footing the bill myself. Besides, this way, no
one will see me coming . . . or going."

"Or me . . . coming? Or going?" I ask and she smiles.

"Except for me, of course," she adds and we both laugh.

*************

June 7, 2009

He moves above me. Easily. Comfortably. The passion that was there at the
beginning has been replaced with a simple familiarity and I know there's nothing
wrong with this, that it's just the way things work. But there's always
something missing or else it's that I know what that something is.

Always an attentive lover, he makes sure that it feels just as good for me as it
does for him. The problem is I don't want to feel good right now. Not like this.
My desire to be with him is fighting with my desire to just roll over and go to
sleep until everything is better.

Mic finishes up and eases out of my body, nestling beside me. His breathing is
still strained and he's probably exhausted by now but his fingers dance over my
body. I feel his eyes studying me as he traces my curves and rubs his palm up
and over my hip.

"I really wish I could make you happier, Sarah," he says, his voice breaking the
quiet of the night.

I turn to him and he wraps me in his arms. "I'm sorry, Mic. It's not you.
Really, it isn't. I'm just going through the blues right now and I don't know
why," I lie and he takes in a deep breath.

"Do you need to get help?" he asks and I shake my head.

"No. It will pass. It always does," I say and he brushes his hand appreciatively
across my cheek.

"You're so beautiful, Sarah MacKenzie. Sometimes I still can't believe you're
mine," he says and I want to take issue with him. I'm not his. I'm not
anybody's. I'm May's mommy and his wife, but I'm also me.

But I'm too tired to fight about it right now. It always hurts the most in the
middle of the night, when the darkness brings out old insecurities I thought I
conquered years ago. He said he'd be back by now. He asked me to leave my
husband. Then he never showed up. Did I expect any different? No, not really. He
always was so scared of letting go.

It's better this way, I tell myself. He's obviously happy wherever he is and my
family is intact. I don't have to explain my actions over the last few years.
There would be so many people I'd have to explain them to outside of my family.
Maybe that's what scared Harm. He'd look bad and it would tarnish those gold
wings of his.

Bastard.

I look into Mic's eyes and say it in my head again. The same words over and
over, constantly telling myself it's better this way. It's better this way. Soon
Mic's eyes flutter shut, sleep overtaking him and I free myself from his arms.

Opening my closet door, I pull down a box from the corner and open it quietly.
All the little notes are still in there, the paper carefully and neatly folded
into tiny planes. I should throw them all out right now. I should take them
outside and bury them in the trash.

I leave our bedroom, box in hand, and make my way down the stairs. I stop in the
kitchen and look at them one last time. I didn't realize there were so many. Not
that there are hundreds of them but from one person's perspective, it would be
quite a lot. Then again, to Mic, one would be too many.

I unfold the first one, careful not to bend the wings, and I brush my fingers
over the words.

Come fly with me. Who the hell did he think he was? Sinatra? I fight the urge to
laugh as I fold it up neatly and tuck it back in the box. They all say the same
thing.

Come fly with me. Come fly with me. Over and over come fly with me.

And even though I hate him, I know if he tucked a note into the palm of my hand
again, I'd follow. I'd fly with him anywhere.

I shake the thought from my head. He can't have that power over me. I can't
allow it. He said he'd be back and he didn't come back. He didn't want to fly
with me again. I checked days ago to see if there was something holding up his
transfer from the trial services office and there was nothing. Just the fact
that he's the same scared person he's always been.

I cram the lid on the box, ready to take it out to the garbage when the first
bolt of lightning shatters the black sky and a crash of thunder rumbles through
the air. The rain follows quickly and I find myself pressed against the French
doors, watching it.

It usually rained when we had to part. How fitting that it would rain now. I
clutch onto the box, knowing that I'm not going to throw them away. It's not the
biggest or the most important thing I have from him but it's something.

*************

Mac was worried about me meeting someone new. I never asked about someone from
my past. Bobbi moves over me and I try to separate my mind from my body and just
enjoy this. It's not Mac but I threw that away myself. This is Bobbi and it
feels damn good and like always, she doesn't expect anything from me afterwards.
And I expect nothing from her.

Her hands hold on tight to the headboard as she moves up and down, taking me
into her body with ease. My hands move from her waist to her breasts and she
leans into my touch, moaning with pleasure.

The only light in the room comes from the full moon shining brightly through the
curtains we didn't bother to pull shut. There's just one thing past her balcony
and that's the ocean. No one is watching us from there. No one would even care.
Her body is awash in the blue moonlight and I can make out clearly that she's
smiling down at me.

"Good?" she asks.

"Very," I say, smiling back at her. It's been over ten years since we've been
together but for some reason, it was almost easier to fall back into bed with
her than it has ever been with Mac. Perhaps it's the lack of emotions behind it.
Or the fact that this isn't love. This is sex with a friend who will be gone on
Monday.

She tightens her muscles around me and I stop thinking about friends and sex . .
. except for this one friend who's doing incredible things to me with her body.
It doesn't take long until I grunt out my release and she soon follows, her body
shaking above mine as her orgasm ripples through her. Bobbi has never been a
quiet one and I wait for a pounding on the wall that thankfully never comes.

I hold onto the condom as she slides off, falling onto the bed beside me.

"God, I've missed that," she says and I don't know whether she means fucking or
me or fucking me. It doesn't really matter right now. It was as good as I
remembered it to be and now I'm exhausted.

"I'll be right back," I say, getting out of the warmth of the bed to toss the
condom into the bathroom wastebasket. When I return, she's sitting up against
the headboard, waiting for me. The room is scented heavily of sex and of the
ocean, salty and heavy in the air.

"So, it's not a woman keeping you here," she says as I climb back into bed.

"How do you know that?" I ask, looking up at her as she continues to work this
through her mind.

"Because I know you, Harm. You wouldn't be here in bed with me if there was
someone else. You're far too noble for that," she says and I roll over and stare
at the ceiling. "So it comes down to this -- there's someone you're avoiding
back in DC."

"How do you know I'm not avoiding you?" I ask and she laughs.

"Once again because you wouldn't be here in bed with me if that as it. Harm . .
." she starts but stops to think about her next question.

"What?"

"Will you tell me someday?" she asks and I shake my head.

"Probably not," I say and she settles down beside me.

"I'll have to figure it out myself, then," she says and I pull her into my arms.
Parts of this shouldn't be too hard to figure out. She's a smart woman. I half
suspect she already knows but she's just waiting for me to slip up.

Or she's waiting for me to figure out exactly what the hell I'm doing and I'm
not even sure I can.

*************

I wake up to the sound of laughter coming from downstairs. Mic is out of our bed
and I look at the clock. It's after 10 a.m. and May has probably been up for
hours. They usually trash the kitchen and make pancakes together on Sunday,
letting me sleep in. Considering I didn't fall asleep until just a few hours
ago, I'm thankful for it.

I pull on my bathrobe and go downstairs just in time to catch Mic trying to
teach May to crack an egg without the entire shell ending up in the mixing bowl.
The two of them are laughing as he struggles to pick the shells out of the
mixture.

"Hi, Mommy!" May exclaims, climbing down from the chair she's standing on and
rushing over to me. "We're making pancakes for you!"

She says it with the glee that only a five year old could have over pancakes
filled with egg shells and then she smiles up at me. Her smile always captures
my heart even further and I can't be sad with her around. It doesn't matter
where she came from. She's my baby.

"Good, because you know what I could really use?" I ask, picking her up in my
arms. She wraps her arms around my neck as we walk back to the counter where Mic
is still trying to get all of the shell out of the bowl.

"What?" she asks.

"I could really use some pancakes made by your sweet little hands," I say and
she laughs, leaning in to kiss me on the cheek.

I put her back on her chair and she gets to stir the mix while Mic pours it onto
the hot griddle.

"Know what I could really use, Mommy?" May asks and I assume she's going to tell
me about the newest Barbie doll or perhaps that kitchen set she keeps asking
for.

"What could you use, sweetheart?"

"A baby sister!" she says with glee and Mic and I both nearly choke. "Can't you
go to the hospital and pick one out for me?"

"Luv, it's not quite that easy," Mic answers, his eyes meeting mine, pleading
with me to come up with something to tell her, too.

"All my friends have brothers and sisters. I'm the only one who doesn't," she
says with a pout.

"Honey, it's really not that easy," I say and she doesn't look happy with that
answer. Mic is staring at me now. Does he want an answer about why she's an only
child, too? I can't give it to him.

"Can you think about it?" she says as if she's asking us for a puppy and I can't
find the words to say.

"Sure, luv. Mum and Dad will think about it. Now run along and play while I
finish up your breakfast," Mic says and May scurries off to the living room. I
hear the TV turn on and the channel flip to some children's programming.

"That was interesting," I say, opening the refrigerator and pouring myself a
glass of juice. Mic flips the pancakes and then stands behind me, wrapping his
arms around my waist.

"How 'bout it, Sarah. You want to try to have another one?" he asks and the
taste of the juice grows sour in my mouth. All these years I've always used my
career as an excuse as to why I didn't have another baby. It's the only excuse
I've got.

"No, Mic. I'm happy with just May. Besides, at my age . . ."

"Your age what? Women at your age have babies all the time and you know it. Next
you're going to use your career as your excuse. I think we should really think
about it. I'd love another baby," he says and I pull away from him.

"Then you figure out how to have one without me having to carry it around for
nine months," I say and he looks hurt.

"Are you afraid to go through what we went through the first time?" he asks and
I look away. I remember all too clearly the months of frustration and tears. I
remember how every month I would cry when I found out I wasn't pregnant. This
time, I know there would be no end to it.

"Mic, I'm happy. You and May are all I need and I do have my career and you know
it. Everything is perfect right now," I lie, hoping he can't tell.

He pulls the pancakes off the griddle and gets them ready for May while I lean
against the counter, watching him.

"As long as you're sure. I don't want you to regret this later," he says and I
smile.

"I won't regret it. Trust me," I say, knowing this is one of the few things in
life I won't ever regret.

*****************

Bobbi finds me on the balcony overlooking the ocean. The sun is high in the late
morning sky and I can't believe we slept for so long. She tightens the belt on
her robe, opens the sliding glass door and steps out of the room.

"Good morning, sailor," she jokes, sliding her arm into the crook of mine. "I
ordered some breakfast. I thought you might be hungry."

With that, a man rolls a cart out onto the balcony and begins to set the small
table. We both watch until he's done and then I pull some bills from my pocket
and tip him before he departs.

"This looks good," I say. We both sit and I pour juice into our glasses. That's
all she takes, the juice and a few chunks of pineapple, while I dig into the
eggs.

"I had a nice time last night," she says between sips and I know I'm blushing.
Bobbi always had a habit of making me blush the next day.

"So, um, did I," I mumble, chasing the eggs down with some juice.

"Good. Now maybe you can get over her and come home," she says and I nearly
choke.

"What?" I ask when I can finally speak.

"Get over her, Harm. Don't ruin your career over this. Come home. Become the
next JAG. Meet other women. Fall in love and get married yourself. But don't
ruin yourself or her over this," she says, never taking her eyes off of me.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I say, wiping my mouth with my napkin
and settling back in my chair.

"Sure you do. I was only guessing until you choked right there, but I say it was
a pretty good guess," she says, looking quite satisfied with herself.

"Always the politician, huh? Get what you need out of someone by any means
necessary?" I ask and she shrugs her shoulders.

"I've been in love with someone I couldn't have before. I know how bad it is,
but I had to move on or it was going to kill me. I saw Mac last month when I was
in Falls Church and she looked like hell, Harm. And so do you. The two of you
need to move on or move forward but you can't just run away from her or your
life or your job," she says and I look away, staring out over the ocean.

"I've moved on and she moved on years ago. She's the one who got married," I say
and Bobbi doesn't say anything for a long time.

"I wish . . ." she starts to say but stops when I turn to face her again.

"What?"

"I wish someone loved me like that. Two men at that, both in love with her. And
I have none. Makes me wonder where I went wrong," she says and then laughs. "Or
maybe where I didn't go wrong considering that's a mess I would want to avoid at
all costs."

"That's what I'm doing," I say and she looks at me with a questioning glance.

"What are you doing?"

"Avoiding the mess at all costs," I say and she rolls her eyes at me.

"It's too late, Harm. You're in this mess and you're in deep. You might as well
go home and face it," she says and I just nod.

***************