PART III

September 13, 2010

I wake up to find myself on the floor. The notes are still here, all exactly
where I tossed them last night. They surround me and I brush my hand across
them, accepting the fact that they are real. The whole affair didn't vanish
overnight. Whatever liquid that was in the last bottle of beer I had last night
. . . this morning . . . whenever . . . is slowly spreading its way across the
beige carpet. The dog is lapping at it until he notices I'm awake.

"Tastes like old piss, doesn't it?" I ask and Cricket runs over and licks my
face before he does his 'get me out in the yard fast' dance. The Cocker Spaniel
nuzzles at my crotch and I jump. "Too right, mate. I've got to go, too."

May is standing in the doorway watching me as I struggle to get up. I didn't
drink enough to get pissed, but I'm a little stiff from sleeping in the corner
of a room on the hard floor.

"Is Mommy home yet?" she asks as she clutches on to her teddy. She's got on her
pyjamas yet and her hair is all tousled. I can also tell she's been crying.

"No, luv, Mommy isn't home yet. Soon. She'll be home soon. Can you let Cricket
outside before he wets the floor? I'll be down in a minute and we can make some
breakfast," I say and she nods her head and calls for her dog. He obediently
follows her anywhere.

I hate not being able to tell her more. No matter what I thought in the middle
of the night, I do hope her mother is alive. But what can I do? Nothing but
wait.

I go to clean up all the notes again and put them back in their box. I have to
take care of my daughter and not wallow in self pity. I open one last note. A
series of them caught my eye before and I can't help but go back to them. All so
close in time. That must be when it all started. I take one last look and cram
them all back into the box and shut the lid, placing the box on the bed.

My little girl needs me. I can't look at these all day.

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

August 7, 2003


Damn it. I don't need this today. Not again. I pick up the little scrap of paper
off my desk and fold it into a paper airplane myself with the intention of
sending it sailing toward the garbage can. I'm about to launch it to join the
rest of the trash when I stop. Just like I did with the last three or four.

I hold it in my fingers, playing with its wings, bending them so it would never
fly anyway. Just like this whole idea. It should never fly. And I should never
fly with Harm again, either.

'Come fly with me.'

What is that supposed to mean anyway? The subtext behind those few words is so
powerful. Come run away with me for a day and I'll take your heart flying. Of
course, after that I'll crush it and send it falling to earth.

I put the note to the side and try to get back to work. Thankfully, Bud is
co-counsel on this case and not Harm. We haven't had to work together again
since, through some miracle, we got Littleton acquitted. We are both good at
what we do, but everything was working against that poor man, including his
lawyers. Or maybe we were just working against each other.

The tension between us is so heavy right now I'm nearly drowning in it. Neither
of us knows what to say to the other. He sends me notes and I ignore them. I
picture him standing out there by his plane, waiting for me for hours. I can see
Harm so clearly as he finally gives up when the sun has set and he knows there's
no hope.

And then on Monday, he never says a word. Just looks at me with unexpressive
eyes and we go about our business.

This has to come to end one way or another soon. I can't live under this
forever. Neither can he. I just don't know what the solution is.

I close my eyes and my senses are flooded with that last kiss. It wasn't the
first time we kissed, but the first time he kissed me. Mic and I share kisses
all the time. We make love all afternoon on the weekends. We do everything. But
I keep going back to that one singular kiss.

I didn't want to stop. Oh, God, where would it have gone if it were only up to
me? I'm the one who's married. I'm the one who should have pulled away and run
like hell. Instead, he pushed me away and I fled, scared of the conversation
that was coming soon. I didn't want him to apologize for kissing me. I wasn't
sorry.

Then why am I avoiding him? He's not trying to avoid me. Does he want it to go
further? He has to because I can't take one more no.

I pick up the note again and look at it. Then I look at the ring on my finger.
What in the hell am I doing?

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

Mac moves around the break room without looking at me. She pours herself a cup
of coffee, her hand shaking so much that she nearly spills it. Then she gets her
lunch out of the refrigerator and can't get the lid off.

"Damn it!" she exclaims, tossing the plastic container across the counter.

"Do you need help?" I ask from across the room. I'm leaning against the far
counter, watching her. That seems to be the problem. It's been months since we
went flying together, but we still are walking on eggshells around each other.
I'm sure she got my latest note but she won't say anything about it. Not here.
Not ever, actually.

She didn't show up the last few times I asked her to come with me. I'm sure she
had a good reason, but still the unsettling realization that perhaps she just
didn't want to see me was always there. I never said anything about it on
Monday. What could I say?

I did the right thing yet at the same time everything I did was all so wrong. I
stopped something that I thought was wrong and in doing so, I lost her. If I
would have known the consequences, I would have just let it go on. I would have
lost her either way.

Mac grabs the container and is about to hand it to me when Bud walks through the
door. "Oh, good! I can't seem to get this lid off. Can you do it, Bud?"

"Sure, ma'am," Bud says, looking at me, puzzled. He's wondering why she didn't
ask me. Too bad I have no answer to give him. "There you go."

"Thanks, Bud. You're a life saver," Mac says, hurrying out of the break room
without even heating her meal up. I'm not sure she even had a fork with her.

"What's wrong with Col. MacKenzie, sir?" Bud asks. One thing I was always
thankful for is that Mac kept her maiden name. I can't imagine how many times
she would have had to explain why she's called Mac if her last name was Brumby.

"Well, Bud, I'm not sure what wrong with Col. MacKenzie. Maybe she's having
problems on the homefront," I say, dismissing it all. I certainly don't want to
discuss it with Bud. I don't want to discuss it with anyone.

"So, sir, are you taking your Stearman up anytime soon? It's been a long time
since I went with and if you ever need someone to go with you, I'd love to," Bud
says.

He pulls his neatly arranged lunch out of the refrigerator. It is all packed in
some big Tupperware thing and he goes about microwaving the parts that need to
be heated, reading the little post-it note instructions carefully before setting
the timer. He even has a thermos of what is most likely juice. Or chocolate
milk. Is this what married life is like? Someone to make your lunch. Someone to
have your babies. Someone to get away from for a day by flying with your
bachelor buddy.

I'm not sure. . . I don't know if I could do it. Not like Bud can. I just don't
think I can.

"I'll keep that in mind, Bud. I just haven't felt like flying lately," I lie,
leaving Bud behind in the kitchen with his all too perfect meal.

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

"Don't answer it, Luv," Mic says when the phone starts ringing again. Whoever it
is, they are certainly persistent.

"Oh, Mic . . . I have to. It might be about that hearing that was delayed until
Tuesday . . ."

"You didn't have to answer it the last three times it rang," he says, wrapping
his arms around me and hugging me tight. I free myself from his embrace and roll
toward the phone. "Besides, you aren't supposed to get up right away. The doctor
said so."

"To hell with the doctors, Mic. None of it's going to work," I say, grabbing the
handset to the cordless phone.

"Hello," I say, getting it right before it goes to the answering machine. They
haven't left a message yet.

"Mac, it's Harm," he says and I know this isn't about any hearing. He sounds . .
. determined and I know we are going to resolve all of this here and now.

"Yes, is there a problem?" I ask, getting out of bed and dragging on my
bathrobe. I feel a stickiness between my thighs and I sigh. Oh, hell. It doesn't
matter anyway. There will be no baby this month just like there wasn't one last
month.

"Who is it?" Mic asks. I turn to look at him and he pats my side of the bed,
wanting me back there, wrapped up in the warm sheets. Wrapped up in him.

"It's uh . . . about the hearing. I'll be right back, okay? I have to get
something out of my briefcase," I say and a disappointed look crosses his face.

I never expected that Harm would go as far as calling me at home about this.
What in the hell does he want from me?

Probably the same thing I want from him.

"What hearing?" Harm asks. I don't say anything until I'm all the way down the
stairs and in the kitchen. I don't turn on any of the lights. I just stare out
of the window over the sink at the moon shadows dancing across the backyard.

"What did you want me to say? That is was you on the phone?" I ask, careful not
to say his name in case Mic followed me down here. He's probably fast asleep by
now, but I just don't want to take any chances. Or any more than I already am.

"Why lie? We haven't done anything wrong," he says, his voice almost flat and
expressionless. Actually, he sounds more mad than anything. I don't know why he
would sound that way if we haven't done anything wrong like he says.

"Have you been drinking?" I ask, wanting to get to the bottom of why he's
calling me at home this late at night.

"No. Why?" he asks and I don't answer right away. I don't think he's at home. I
hear indistinguishable street sounds in the background. Maybe a horn honking.
Couples chattering. Maybe he's at a pay phone somewhere, calling me. Outside a
bar in D.C. He just drank a few beers and it gave him the courage to call.
Courage for him to beg me to come with him.

Oh, Mac, don't turn this into something it isn't. I sigh and give up staring out
the window, leaning on the counter instead. I watch the second hand on the
kitchen clock tick away, but I already knew how much time had passed since he
asked why. Exactly 67 seconds. A minute and seven seconds is a long time when
you are hanging on the other side of a silent phone call.

"You just sounded strange. That's all," I say, clearing my throat. I walk to the
French doors and lean my head against the panes.

"Come away with me, Sarah. Come fly with me."

I shut my eyes and the warm glass pane under my forehead gets warmer than even
the August air could make them. Then everything in the room gets warm around me.
I know what he's asking. It isn't just a little joyride in his plane and then we
part ways at the end.

For the first time ever, I lose track of time. Something Harmon Rabb has never
done to me before. Oh, God. I could just give up on ever counting the minutes
again if he just says my name and asks me again.

"Please, Mac . . . the whole weekend. We'll come home on Monday. Come with me,"
he says, sounding so very desperate. Needy. He needs me. After all this time, he
needs me. And all that time doesn't matter anymore.

"Yes," I whisper into the receiver. The sound of my voice is so foreign to me. I
can hardly believe I just answered. I don't need to say anything else. He hangs
up on the other end right before I hit the off button on my phone.

I turn around and slide down the door, ending up on the cool tile just staring
at the phone. I feel the door wobble behind me as I rock back and forth, trying
to think. What have I done?

Even though we've done nothing yet, our fate has been sealed.

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

August 8, 2003

She walks towards me, her feet leaving behind evidence of what we are about to
do in wet prints against the deep green of the summer grass. The morning dew
hasn't even lifted and yet, here she is. Early even. My heart is beating so hard
against my rib cage that everyone in a five mile radius must be able to hear it.


Mac has on her uniform with her usual overnight bag thrown over her shoulder. It
must have been the only way she could sneak away for the weekend. I watched her
slip her cover on her head before she got out of the car. Nothing is out of
place, yet so much is out of place. She stands before me, keeping a five foot
space between us. I want to close the gap, but I'll let her set the pace. For
now, it is all up to her.

"Is there somewhere I can change? I had to . . . say I was called out on an
investigation. That I wouldn't be back until Monday evening," she says, her
voice soft and low. It's as if she believes only whispering the words will cover
the fact that it was a lie. The first of many to come.

"Over there. Go inside the hangar and you'll find a bathroom," I say, pointing
in the direction of one of the buildings at the airfield. I watch as she
silently goes off in that direction until she's out of sight. Then I try to
concentrate on preparing the plane for flight. My eyes keep drifting to the
hangar, waiting for her. Wanting her.

Jesus, Rabb. Pull your shit together or we'll never make it there. I check over
all the hoses again, just to have something to do. I run my hands across the
surfaces of my plane and I notice my hands are shaking. I feel as nervous as
someone going up on their first solo flight, except this time, I'm not going
anywhere solo.

Mac comes up behind me and clears her throat, startling me. I turn to face her
and take the bag from her shoulder but I can't stand to go without holding her
for another second. Mac's bag hits the ground with a thud as I pull her to me.
Her body is drawn to mine. Her arms go up and around my neck. Her hands pull my
head down for a kiss.

And then we are lost in each other. Her tongue parts my lips and I can't even
think as it brushes across my own. The only thought that makes it out of the
muddle in my mind is that I need more. I need more quickly.

I untuck her shirt from her jeans and my hands go up and across her back,
feeling her smooth skin under my fingertips. Her fingers weave through my short
hair, pulling me closer. I want to be closer. So much more closer.

Mac is the one who pulls away, but I don't move my hands yet. I want to feel her
warmth. Take all her clothes off and touch her everywhere.

"Where are we going?" she asks, her voice heavy with desire. She and I both try
to catch our breath and her hands drop down from my head. She shoves her
fingertips into the pockets of my jeans and pulls my hips in her direction.

"Cape May, New Jersey. Their annual fly-in is this weekend. A lot of people. No
one will notice us," I say, still breathless and struggling to get the words
out. We both sway back in forth, as close as we can be right here and now.

"I don't think I can make it that far," she says, resting her head against my
chest.

I don't think I can, either, but we have to. We can't do it here up against my
plane. "We've made it this far. We can make it another few hours."

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

Breathe, Sarah MacKenzie. Just remember to keep breathing.

I have to keep reminding myself or else I know I'll forget and where we are
going and what we are doing once we get there won't matter.

Breathe. And again. Slowly. Deeply. Breathe.

The air flows by me, tickling my already over-sensitive skin and I swear I can
still feel his hands touching my flesh. Moving across my back. I could feel the
need in that touch and in that kiss and it scares me. Scares me even more when I
realize I need him just as much.

Scares me so much I find that I've forgotten to breathe again. Needing someone
this much terrifies the hell out of me. I've never felt this much want and
desire bubbling through my soul and I'm not sure I know how to deal with it. Mic
. . . I love him. I'm sure I do. But need and want? Not like this. Never like
this.

"We're almost there," Harm says, his voice breaking the silence for the first
time since we got in the air. I try to say something back, but find I have no
voice. "Are you okay? Mac?"

I have to clear my throat before I can answer. "Yes, I'm okay."

"We'll be landing in a few minutes," he says and I take in another breath of
fresh air. I swear I can taste the sky and heaven way up here. It tastes just
like Harm. He and the sky are one. Free as the wind . . . and he's never going
to change. Not even for me.

I turn my face toward the mid-morning sun and close my eyes against its warmth.
Rays are getting past the shade of the wing and its intensity pulls me back to
some sort of reality. No, I'll never have him for long. He only belongs to the
sky. Not to me. And just as much as he can't be mine, I can't be his.

I belong to someone else.

"Mac?"

"Hmm?" I respond, opening my eyes to discover quite a sight before me. Several
other airplanes dot the crisp, blue sky and when Harm banks the plane to head
toward the airstrip, I can see where the land meets the ocean. The summer sun
shines off the water as it stretches out forever before us.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asks and before I can respond, he's contacting the
controller about where we should land.

It certainly is beautiful. And for right now, I don't need forever with him.
This will be enough. Whatever I can get will be enough, no matter how much it
scares me.

I just have to remember to keep breathing.

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

Mac seems more nervous now than when we left. Maybe it's all the people here at
the small municipal airport. There's a chance I might know someone here, but I
have no intention of staying here long enough to find out.

Mac shifts her bag from one shoulder to the other anxiously as I talk to someone
about the arrangements for the plane. I'm afraid that if I look away for too
long, she'll be gone. She has the most to lose in what we are doing. I wouldn't
blame her for backing out now.

God, please don't let her back out now.

She turns to watch some of the other planes here for the weekend and when I
place my hand on her shoulder, I can feel tension throughout her body.

"We don't have to," I say, my voice barely audible over an incoming stunt plane.
She rounds her shoulders off, slumping under my touch. I feel her exhale a deep
breath before she turns to me.

"Don't back out on me now, Harm. Not after everything else," she says, her brown
eyes more intense than I've ever seen them. She reaches for my hand, holding it
tight. "I would never forgive you if you changed your mind now."

"I thought you were changing your mind. I thought . . ."

"Stop thinking," she says. I already thought we did that. We must have to be
doing what we are doing. "Where are we going? It better be close."

"They said they'd have a taxi waiting to take us to where we are staying," I
answer, looking around. Indeed, the car is waiting over by the main hangar and I
take her bag from her and we walk to it hand in hand.

"Rabb?" the driver asks and I nod, my voice suddenly stuck in my throat. "My
name is Edwin. You're going to the Angel of the Sea, right?"

I manage to mutter a yes and open the door for Mac to get in.

"Angel of the Sea? It sounds beautiful" Mac says as the driver gets behind the
wheel and smiles in the rear view mirror.

"It is beautiful, I'm sure you'll love it, Mrs. Rabb," he says and I feel Mac
cringe at the mistake. It was just that. An honest mistake. She has on a wedding
ring. She pulls her hand out of mine and twists the ring around and I look away.
"Angel of the Sea is a beautiful Victorian bed and breakfast. I see your husband
is surprising you with a weekend getaway?"

"Yes," she answers softly, not correcting him. I look down again to see that she
has her hands folded neatly on her lap. "Yes, he is."

"He picked a good spot. It's a great place. Quite a history behind it. You'll
see. It was split in half once to move it, but they were never able to get the
two halves back together," he says, as he navigates his way through the coastal
town.

"Very interesting," Mac says. She sounds like she's not even listening at this
point. Maybe all she can hear is my heart beating wildly because that's all I
can hear. We don't say anything to each other for a long time. Occasionally, we
steal a passing glance, but that's it. Nothing needs to be said at this point as
long as this is where she wants to be.

We near the beach and the driver points out a large Victorian structure facing
the ocean. "That's where you'll be staying. And there's plenty of things to do
in town now. That is, if you'll be leaving your room," he says with a chuckle.
Mac and I both tense up again and look at each other.

"I'm sure we'll get out at least once. Maybe catch the sunrise on the beach,"
she answers, all the while shaking her head 'no.' I smile at her as I try to
slow my racing heart down to a somewhat normal rhythm.

By sunrise, everything will have changed between us. We won't just be friends
anymore but so many more things. Not all of them good. As he pulls into the
drive, she reaches out and reassuringly pats my hand once as she takes a deep
breath.

No matter what changes, we're going to be fine. I hope.

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

There's no way we can make it to the bed. The room is beautiful and has a
balcony with a view of the ocean . . . but who the hell cares at this point. The
door was barely closed behind us before he grabbed me and pulled me into his
arms, his mouth down upon mine before I could even say a word.

His mouth moves all over me, desperate and demanding. As if he can't live
without me. As if he's drowning and I'm his air . . . and I need him just as
badly. The slow burn that's been simmering in my body since I showed up at the
airport is now boiling over and I need him now.

Harm makes a low, lusty growl in his throat as I draw my tongue up his jaw line,
toward his earlobe. He has to stand splay legged and I have to stretch in order
to make up for our height difference but I don't care. However I can get to him
is fine with me.

He pulls my shirt out of the waist of my jeans and I give up on his ear when he
yanks it over my head. My bra follows quickly and he steps back for a second to
savor what's before him. I can tell by the glow in his eyes that he likes what
he sees. He falls to his knees and takes a nipple into his mouth, swirling his
tongue around it in slow adoration and I moan in spite of myself when I think
about that tongue on other places. He moves from one breast to the other,
lavishing his attention equally on both.

"Stand up," I demand and he obeys like a good little sailor. I tug at his shirt
and he discards it and I touch the dog tags resting against his chest. Probably
wears them when he flies in case . . . I don't even want to think about it.

This time, when my hands move to the fly of his jeans, he doesn't push me away.
Instead, he kicks off his shoes and gets out of his socks while my hand traces
down the front of his jeans, feeling him harden more under my touch. If I
thought I couldn't breathe before now I've become desperate, each breath nearly
a gulp for air.

No, he doesn't push me away at all as I let each button on his fly pop so slowly
that it's painful for both of us. He's not changing his mind this time. I won't
let him. I slide his jeans down over his hips, carefully taking his boxer shorts
with. Now it's my turn to step back and admire him. The ever cocky Harmon Rabb
seems to shy away from me looking at him for the first time and it's almost
enough to make me laugh . . . not him, but his reaction. To make him more at
ease, I quickly get out of my remaining clothes so we can both stand naked
before the other.

Harm licks his bottom lip and his eyes can't decide where to go. I decide for
him by stepping close, my body brushing against his. I can feel his erection
press insistently against my flesh and I want to feel it inside of me. No, need
to feel it.

He spins me around in his arms and we start to walk slowly toward the bed, with
me going backwards. When did his room get so big? We aren't going to make it. I
need him now. He must feel it, too, because we both fall to our knees onto the
hard wood floor, with me wrapped in his embrace. Harm lowers me onto my back and
I sigh at the wonderful feeling of his weight on top of me with his tags
brushing against my chest. Lately, sex in my life has become just that. Sex. A
chore in order to have a baby. This is so different. This is lust and passion
and desire. Everything I knew it would be with Harm. I feel his erection against
my wet folds and I move my hips up to increase the stimulation.

Even with the limited foreplay, I'm so aroused that I don't need anything
besides him inside of me. We can play later. I need this now.

He stops moving above me and the expression on his face grows so serious.
"You're sure?" he asks and I want to hit him. I'm naked and sprawled out
underneath him and he has to ask if I'm sure? That's so Rabb.

I buck my hips up against him, encouraging him to fill me. I'll beg if that's
what it takes at this point. Luckily, I don't have to. He nudges into me slowly
and I feel myself opening up to take him in as I wrap my legs around his waist.
I have to go back to my breathing lessons when I feel him begin to move inside
of me. He's propped up over me and our eyes are locked, neither of us looking
away. I'm afraid that if I do, this will all be over. It's wrong, but it's what
I want. What I've always wanted.

He moves slowly at first and a smile crosses his face and I answer it with one
of my own. Everything built up between is us is toppling down right now and I
place a hand on his cheek and fight the sudden urge I have to cry. I'm sure
there will be enough tears later. I'm not going to start now.

I can feel his heartbeat through me as he thrusts in faster and harder. Slipping
my hand between us, I touch myself, heightening the arousal. I want to come with
him in me and to have him come we me wrapped around him. God knows I have
nothing to worry about if he does.

"Mac, oh God . . ." he moans against my mouth as he leans closer to me. A layer
of sweat is beginning to form over our bodies and we stick with every movement.
I'm sticking to the floor beneath me and to him above me and I don't care. "You
close?" he asks, barely able to get out the words. The only other noise in the
room is the creak of the old floor and the rustle of his tags.

Even without my own touch, I was close. Just the thought of this, of what we are
doing together, brings me to the edge. With him filling me like he does, it just
pushes me further. We both fight not to blink, not wanting to miss a single
second of this. Sunlight streams through the blinds that we didn't bother to
close and it bathes his face in a soft, yellow light. Time has stopped moving
and I have no clue what time it really is. He's thrown off my infallible
internal clock. A million thoughts flutter through my brain right now, like why
now and why not then and I try to smother them. There's got to be a reason for
now. I just don't know what.

"Mac . . . Sarah?" he says, his voice begging for release. I beat him to it, my
muscles tightening around his length. I feel the waves of pure pleasure flow
from nerve ending to nerve ending and it's like flying again. He and I are truly
flying together now. He stops moving, waiting for me to give him permission.

"Yes," I say once I can focus again, nodding my head. He pushes into me harder
for a just a few more seconds and then I'm flooded with his warm release. It's
as if we are melting together as one, joined like never before. He fills me in
this one last way, just like he's filled so many other parts of my life before
and I watch as he struggles so hard to keep his emotions together. I've seen him
cry before, but just not over me. Both of us seem to be washed away by the
moment and he rolls us so I'm on top of him, my head near his shoulder. Now I
can hear the heartbeat that minutes before I could feel throughout my body.

After we can both breathe normally again, I prop myself up and look at him, his
normally calm blue eyes awash in emotion. I feel him slide out of my body as I
lean forward, needing to kiss him right now. I can feel the fluid leak out with
him and for the first time in a long time, there isn't a horrible sense of loss
with that sensation. I have what I need with him. I have this.

"You're scented of the summer sky," I whisper to him when I snuggle down against
his chest again, my fingers playing with his dog tags. He laughs a nervous laugh
at my proclamation.

"I've heard worse things," he says, holding me tight.

"Did you expect to hear worse from me? Did you expect for me to run at this
point?" I ask, skipping the one question with the answer I'm most afraid of. Did
he want me to run at this point?

"No. I never expected you to be the one to run," he says, and I prop myself up
to watch him again. Something has changed in his eyes and it makes me want to
cry more than anything else that has happened so far.

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

We did leave the room to go see the sunset and to eat. After this afternoon, we
had to eat something, but then we raced right back to the room again to wash the
sand off of our bodies. In the antique clawfoot bathtub seemed as good a place
as any. Her body fits comfortably next to mine, tucked between my legs, and we
are covered in a layer of vanilla scented bubbles. It's something Mac brought
with. Now she smells good enough to eat.

"Lean back. You've got more sand in your hair," I say, and she slides down a
little so I can rinse her hair again.

"I can't imagine how I got so much sand in my hair," she says, closing her eyes
to keep the trickle of water from getting in them. I wring out a washcloth over
her head and let the water wash away everything. Everything it can wash away.

"I thought it was pretty imaginative," I say, pulling her up so she's tight
against my body again.

Making up for lost time. That's all today has been about. So far, we've avoided
any conversation concerning her marriage or our careers and where this all could
lead. No matter how pleasant this all has been, the consequences could be so
unpleasant. We just aren't ready to talk about it yet, but I have a feeling the
time has come.

"Ever do it in the bathtub?" she asks and I don't answer. "Okay, in an antique
bathtub?"

I still don't answer, not wanting to incriminate myself too much. I don't want
to think about her husband and she probably doesn't want to think about . . .
whatever girlfriend it might have been.

"An antique bathtub in Cape May, New Jersey on the eighth of August?" she asks
and I laugh.

"No, I've never done it in Cape May, New Jersey at all. Besides today," I amend,
wrapping my arms around her slick, soapy body. I brush my thumb against her
nipple and feel it peak underneath my touch. She sighs softly and sets her hand
upon mine, disturbing the water just a little. We are both silent and the only
noise is that nearly inaudible sound of soap bubbles popping as they dry out in
the air.

"Right after we made love the first time, you looked like you wanted to get the
hell out of here. Why was that?" she asks, ending the silence. I sigh and wish I
had an answer that was going to satisfy her.

"Fear. That's all. Fear of what's going to happen now. I know we have to go
back, but I don't want to. The rest of the world is out there and they aren't
going to be too crazy about what we've done. I panicked," I say, listening to
her breathe as I explain myself.

"We do have to go back. I have to go back to my home and we have to go back to
our jobs. And somehow, we'll put this all behind us. We have to," she says,
sighing a sad, resigned sigh. It's settled then. She won't leave him after just
one weekend with me. I honestly never expected her to. I'd have to give her so
much more and I'm not sure I'm ready to. Jesus. I should be hung from the
nearest yardarm for this. I can't give her what she wants yet. Then again, how
in the hell do I even know what she wants?

"What do you want from me?" I ask quietly and with just those few words, she
sits up in the water, splashing some over the side. I didn't mean it to sound
bad. I just need to know. Obviously, I should already know the answer.

"I want . . . I want it all to be easier than this," she says, leaning forward
and wrapping her arms around her knees, clutching them tight.

"I can't make it easy. Not at this point. There's too many people involved," I
say and she knows it. Besides Mic, there's all the people we work with and
depend on us. I just don't know how to solve this easily.

"I know. Why didn't we see this years ago? What was wrong with us?" she asks and
she sniffles a little. I can't see her face so I can't tell if she'd crying or
not.

"I don't know. We were too stubborn," I say, wishing I could explain myself
besides telling her I was a selfish, arrogant ass who wanted it all. Career and
freedom before family. She's with the right person. He was willing to give it
all up. I wasn't. And here I am now with her and I shouldn't be. I still don't
think I can give it all up, yet she's here with me. There's so much we both
could lose, yet here we are.

"Stop talking about it," she says, echoing her earlier sentiments about
thinking. She turns herself around in the little space she has. "Let's just stop
talking about it all. We can't solve it."

I pull her up closer to me, feeling the warm water slip all around us. Once
again, we are locked in a deep, passionate kiss and it isn't long until I'm
hard, pressed against her slick body.

"How do you want it this time?" I ask, sliding my hand between her thighs and
stroking her clit. She settles down on my hand, moving in time to my rhythmic
touches.

"One of these times, we'll have to try the bed," she says, closing her eyes at
all the sensations around us. Her nipples harden as they brush against my chest
and I love all her body's responses to arousal. I love the way she smells and
the way she sounds. All the things I could only imagine before today.

"We'll get to the bed sooner or later. So, Mac, have you ever done it in an
antique bathtub in Cape May, New Jersey on the eighth of August," I ask and she
laughs, splashing some bubbles my way. "Is that a no?"

She brushes my hand away and rubs her sex up against my hard-on a few more
times. Then with a swift, fluid motion, she supports herself with her hands on
my shoulders and sinks down over my erection, her knees bent in the little room
beside me. Next time I get a hotel room with a bigger tub. . . if there's a next
time. Oh, God there has to be a next time. My mind can barely function as she
sinks all the way down on me. Being inside of her is like flying . . . a perfect
way to escape the rest of the world until we have to come back down again.

"Yes. Yes I have done it in an antique bathtub in Cape May, New Jersey on . . .
oh . . ." she starts to say but is suddenly halted as I thrust up into her. Her
hands move from my shoulders to the rounded edge of the bathtub and she uses it
to give her even more leverage. Her slick body moves up and down on mine and the
water is displaced everywhere, sloshing over the side in gushes in time with our
bodies. No wonder they provide so many towels.

She continues to move and the waves we create continue to lap against the far
side of the tub before they come back and hit us. Most of the bubbles have gone
over the side and are flowing across the tile flooring.

I move one hand back under the warm water and find her clit again, needing for
her to enjoy this as much as I am. Mac shudders under my touch and I watch as
her breasts heave up and down from our continued motion. We make eye contact
again and she knows what I've been admiring.

"You aren't so bad yourself for a guy fast approaching forty," she says, leaning
forward enough to brush a kiss across my lips quickly. She sits up straighter
almost immediately and my hand and her body continue working.

"Spend my birthday with me," I say, knowing it is a bit premature to ask now,
but I want her there. She just shuts her eyes and doesn't answer one way or
another. "We'll go away again. Mac, please?"

"I'll try," is all she says. And I know that's the best she can give me. For as
free as I am, she is not.

Her constant motion becomes more pressing now and I now know that look on her
face. She's about to come. I've seen it several times today and I never want to
forget it. It probably matches the same needful look on my face. I need to find
release again.

A few more quick thrusts of her hips and we both are there, her before me once
again. Damn overachiever. Then I sink into her as far as I can and let go. No
one has discussed any consequences of this and who the hell cares right now.
Just one more thing to be dealt with later. If it were a problem, wouldn't Mac
have said something? The bathroom goes black as I feel even stronger waves crash
through my body and the release is as warm as the water around us.

She falls forward against me, her body still wet and slick. We've been so
desperate for each other that everything we've done has been fast and filled
with passion. I want it to be slow for her just once before we have to leave
here.

Mac looks into my eyes and I try to keep any bit of fear or doubt from creeping
in them. Her eyes are so full of life right now and I want mine to be the same.

"I have yet to do it on a bed in Cape May . . ." she starts to say and I groan.

"Mac, I'm fast approaching forty, remember? Don't you ever get enough?" I ask.
She's insatiable and for a brief second, the image of the man who's usually on
the receiving end of her desire flashes through my mind. I turn away and she
must sense it.

She puts her hands on either side of my face and turns my head until I'm looking
at her. "That's my problem to think about, Harm. Not yours," she says, her eyes
serious now.

"I can't help it," I say softly. This is so easy while we are doing it. It's
afterwards, when my brain starts to function properly again, I can see
everything so clearly again.

"Stop thinking." Judging from her voice, it's an order. "I'm with you right now,
so just stop thinking and just feel for a few days."

"Yes, ma'am," I say and she just shakes her head at me.

"Should we get out and at least sleep in the bed?" Mac asks. The water is
starting to chill a little and since she's got more of her body out of it than I
do, I'm sure she's getting cold.

"We can try sleeping. At least for a while."

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

August 9, 2003

The bedroom is still enveloped in darkness when I feel a warm hand move lower
across my abdomen, waking me up. I'm so exhausted . . .

"Mic, not now," I say, placing my hand overtop of the hand that has now stilled.
It isn't Mic's hand. Not at all. It's bigger and stronger than Mic's hand. This
hand flies airplanes and has saved my life on more than one occasion.

Harm pulls his hand away out of under my touch and he sighs. "Sorry," he says,
pulling the blankets back up over both of us. Shit. What did I do?

"No . . . you woke me up. Harm, please, I'm sorry. It's just . . . damn. Please
don't stop," I plead, mad at myself for screwing up and mad at him for not
understanding how easy it is to make that mistake.

I roll toward him and struggle to see his face with the tiny bit of moonlight
pouring through the window. I brush his short, matted bangs off of his forehead
and rest my hand on his cheek.

"I . . . Harm. Please don't do this now. For years now, only one person has woke
me up. You made me so tired today . . . there is no good explanation, is there?"
I say, knowing I'm fighting a losing battle. I damaged his all mighty aviator
ego and nothing I say will fix it that easily.

I take his hand and put it on the spot where it was when I woke up. "Please," I
say, pleading with him.

"I'm sorry, Mac. It isn't anything you did. It was just a not so subtle reminder
about who will be in bed with you come Monday night and . . ." he starts to say
and just end it with a sigh.

I prop myself up on an elbow and look down at him. "None of that matters right
now. I'm in bed with you. Here. That's the best we can hope for at this moment."


What would I do if he asked me to leave Mic? How would I react? Am I going along
with this because I know he'll never have the balls to do that? He'll just wait
around for me to leave him, but I can't. Not without some reassurance we have
something more than a stolen weekend.

His hand moves lower across my stomach again and I lie back down, wanting to
feel his touch. Harm's touch. Not anyone else.

He slips between my thighs and I feel his fingertips dance across my clit. The
heavy sense of arousal fills my lower abdomen almost immediately and I relax
every muscle in my body, wanting to enjoy this as much as I've enjoyed
everything else we've done.

Harm disappears under the quilt, wiggling down to where he wants to be and I
smile. How long have I imagined him doing this with that wonderful mouth of his?
Now it is happening. I feel his tongue and lips moved down my stomach, making me
quiver as he goes. Then his warm breath is on my inner thigh as he maneuvers
both of us around so he can get to what he wants. He wants me.

My back arches off the bed as his tongue makes first contact with my clit and he
laps at the bundle of nerves as if he can't get enough. I certainly can't and my
hips involuntarily thrust toward his face, wanting more. He slides some fingers
into my folds, applying a firm pressure as he thrusts them in and out. That,
coupled with the continual motion of his tongue is enough to make me grip the
cotton sheets, my nails digging into the smooth material.

His lips are devouring me and a guttural sound escapes my throat. It is the only
other sound in the room besides his mouth against my wet flesh and I find that
it's a struggle to stay still. He applies the perfect amount of pressure
everywhere and I know I can't hold off for long.

He thrusts his fingers into me a few more times, hitting just the right spot and
I feel the waves of my orgasm flood through my entire body, not leaving a single
sense out of it. All I can see is a flash of white light and the air rushes
through my ears. My fingers are wrapped in the cool sheets as I turn my head
toward his pillow and bury my face in it, trying to stifle a cry. I doesn't
work. I can't help but to cry out his name . . . yes, the right name. His pillow
smells of him and I remember the taste of his skin all over again. The flavor of
freedom and of the great big blue sky and how close to heaven I am with him.

He crawls back up from under the covers, ending up on top of me, resting himself
on his elbows as he looks down at my face. Now is he scented of me and of
vanilla and when he kisses me, I discover the way he tastes has changed, too. No
longer does he taste like that heaven he finds in the sky, but of the heaven
we've created right here.

I can feel that he's hard again and it is pressing insistently against my folds.
Forty? What in the hell would he have been like when we first met? What was he
then? Thirty-three? Thirty-four? Wasted time. Lots of wasted time.

Then again, would it have been this good back then? No. Probably not. There's
something to be said about aching, desperate sex when you aren't supposed to be
doing it.

But I want to return the favor. I want to taste him on my tongue and feel him on
my lips.

I push at him gently and he must get the idea since he rolls off of me and onto
his back. He scoots up on the bed so he's reclining against the headboard. He
wants to watch me do this in the moonlight that is gently bathing the room in a
soft glow.

Moving my mouth across his chest, my tongue flickers out against his nipples,
feeling them harden from the touch. He moans something and I continue on,
wanting this to be the best damn blow job he's ever gotten. At least the best in
Cape May, New Jersey on August . . . ninth.

"Please . . ." he moans as I move lower, lavishing my attention on his firm abs,
feeling the little trail of hair tickle my nose as I go lower. My senses are
assaulted again as I wrap my lips around the head of his penis, tasting one more
part of him. There's a drop of pre-come already there and I lap it up with my
tongue, letting the salty-male taste move through my mouth.

I begin to apply more pressure with my mouth and my fingers travel down to his
balls, my fingernails brushing against them softly.

"Jesus . . ." he says and I can hear him gripping the antique cherry headboard
behind him. I continue to take him into my mouth farther, my tongue never
stopping with my constant motion against his warm, smooth flesh. I pull up again
and let my tongue dance across the slit and he's now moaning more than he has
all day. Harmon Rabb likes oral sex. I should have guessed he'd like this much
attention applied to the 'stick.'

I keep it up, forcing my throat to relax so I can take him in more. My fingers
never stop moving across his balls and then they venture back a little further,
trying to give him the most pleasure that I can. After a couple of years with
the same man, I know what they like. They all aren't very different from one
another when it comes to this.

He allows me to do whatever I want to, his hands never coming off that
headboard. I fight a smile as his moaning changes in intensity and I know he's
close. I can feel his whole body tighten up like an overwound clock and without
another word, he fills my mouth with that hot, salty fluid. I swallow every drop
of him and my tongue continues to move around his penis, taking it all in.

I release him from my mouth with an audible popping sound and this time, I move
back up the bed. We are now both equally sweaty from any time we spent under the
quilt.

"Are you going to wake me up again?" I ask as we both settle down and get
comfortable again. I'm spooned in against him and he has his arm over me,
holding me tight.

"Hmm . . . maybe in a few hours," he says, sounding absolutely exhausted. Before
I can say anything, I hear his breathing change and he's asleep. My hand rests
on top of his as I try to memorize the feel of his soft skin and all the planes
and angles.

No, I don't think I'll make the same mistake ever again.

***********

Mac's not in bed with me when I wake up and for a moment, I panic. My hand rests
on her empty pillow and the sheets are cool. She's been gone for a while and I
was too tired to notice. I swing my legs over the edge of the bed and sit up,
fighting the disappointment I'm feeling. I wanted to wake up with her in bed
with me. I wanted to hold her in the morning before the day and the rest of the
world came crashing in on us.

One whole day together. We have to leave tomorrow morning and I'm not sure what
kind of story she's going to use for work. I used up a day of leave, but she'll
just have to call in sick or something.

I find a note on the dresser informing me that she went out to the beach to
watch the sunrise and that she didn't want to wake me. I pull on my clothes and
leave the room to go search for her. Hopefully, she didn't stray too far and I
can catch up.

I walk across the street to the ocean and find Mac sitting in the sand, her arms
wrapped around her knees. She has on jeans and my Navy t-shirt that she must
have taken out of my bag. She doesn't hear me approaching and jumps a little
when I sit in the sand behind her, wrapping my arms around her. Even though it
is August, it is cool out here right now and the wind is picking up as the sun
gets higher in the sky, bringing the waves in faster.

"Good morning," I say softly in her ear and she leans back against my body. "I
wanted to wake up with you."

"I'm sorry," she says, tilting her head to the side to look at me. "I had to,
um, make a phone call."

She doesn't need to say more and I certainly don't want to hear more.

"How was the sunrise?" I ask. The shoreline is starting to get busy. A few
joggers go running by and a young couple are out here with their two small
children. The little boy runs into the ocean and comes running right back out,
his younger sister looking on with glee. Mac looks at them once or twice, but
doesn't seem to be bothered by them. Not like when we were at that park a few
months ago.

"The sunrise was beautiful," she says, watching seagulls fly by just off shore.
They fill the air with their squawking noise as they hone in on someone with
food a few yards down the sand. "I'm sure we'll get another chance to wake up
together. I feel an afternoon nap coming on."

I laugh as she yawns. We didn't get much sleep overnight and I don't think we
are going to get much sightseeing in today. I just want to spend the day with
her in room, ignoring the rest of the world.

"So that's our plan for today? One afternoon nap?" I ask, and she gets more
comfortable in my arms.

"Or we could just go back to bed now," she suggests with a smile. "But I really
need to eat something first. To keep my energy up and all. Were they still
serving breakfast?"

"Yes, they are," I say, referring to the breakfast part of the bed and
breakfast. But neither of us moves quickly. I like having her just like this.
Just being alone with her anywhere outside of work is almost as good as making
love to her. But not quite.

"What time are we leaving tomorrow?" she asks, a bit of tension rising in her
voice. I can feel it in her body, too. Her shoulders tighten against me and I
wish I could make it all go away.

"Check out is at 1100. I suppose we'll leave after that," I say, not ready to
even think about it yet. It's all going to go to fast, this little bit of time
together.

"We can't stay here forever," she says. It isn't a question. We both know we
have to return to our lives. Her life with Mic. My life alone. Our careers.
Everything outside of Cape May.

"I know," I whisper to her and all the tension vanishes from her body. "Let's go
back to the room and not worry about it yet, okay?"

She stands up and brushes the sand off her clothes before offering me a hand to
get up. I take it and somehow we end up in each other's arms again, just holding
on tight to the other under the blue summer sky.

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

"You think you're so good, don't you?" I tease as I eat some of the strawberries
we brought up to the room. "You have the ego the size of this state. No. Wait.
This state isn't big enough to house your ego. Montana . . . we'll have to go to
Montana sometime just so your ego fits."

"I don't think I'm good. I know I'm good. At everything," he says, leaning
forward to wipe some whipped cream off of the corner of my mouth with the edge
of his thumb.

"Yes, at some things you are good. Very good. Like hoodwinking the court into
believing you with that smile. And flying planes. But, everything? Commander
Rabb, the jury is still out on that one. Especially since you can't come up with
a nine letter word for 'impassioned.' Until you do that, we can't determine if
you are good at everything," I say, laughing as he stares at the Sunday
crossword puzzle. We are both sitting on the bed with the newspaper strewn
everywhere and a bowl of strawberries and cream, just being together.

"MacKenzie . . . isn't that nine letters? It certainly means 'impassioned' in
your case," Harm asks, glancing at me with the most incredible look of desire
before he focuses on the puzzle again. For some crazy reason, we decided to take
a break from all our physical activities and I'm not sure how much longer we'll
be able to drag this out. I give it fifteen more minutes. If he doesn't break by
in that amount of time, then I'm going to have to and it won't be pretty.

"Somehow I doubt they use proper nouns in the Sunday crossword, Harm. Try again.
If you don't get that, maybe I won't let you show me what else you're good at,"
I say and he just smirks at me before concentrating again on the paper in front
of him.

"Right. Like you're going to last another ten minutes over there as it is," he
says, cocky as ever.

"Five. I give you five. You aren't even going to make it that long," I
challenge, leaning back on the bed, with my arm tucked behind my head. Of
course, since we are both naked as it is, this challenge is going to be a little
bit harder for him to resist. It should be easy for me to convince him to give
in. I have my ways. Harm just looks at me as I strike a pose and he shakes his
head.

"You think you are going to seduce me with your fabulous body and girly wiles,
Colonel MacKenzie? You don't know me very well," he says, biting his bottom lip.
Oh, he's fighting it, but he's going to lose.

"I'm sure I can get you in less than five minutes," I say. I part my thighs a
little and snake my hand between them, brushing my fingers past my curls and
over my sex. Now I have his attention. In more ways than one. He sets the
newspaper down over his lap as if that's going to hide it.

"Hm mmm," he mumbles, his mouth hanging open as I continue to pleasure myself in
front of him. He doesn't really know what to do with his hands right at the
moment. I can think of a few things he could be doing.

"You ready to give in yet?" I ask, moving my fingers down a little and sliding
them into my body. He is so engrossed with what I'm doing he just let his pen
slide out of his fingers and right off the bed. I don't want to come like this,
but that look in his eyes is almost enough to get me there.

"How much time do I have left?" he asks, licking his lips. God, I want those
lips back on me.

"Two minutes and fourteen seconds," I say. I slide my other hand down from
behind my head and across my breasts, stroking one nipple and then the next. I
can practically see his fingers twitching from here, wanting to touch my
breasts. Wanting to touch more of me.

"Fuck it," he says, tossing all the newspapers off the bed and crawling across
the bed toward me. I pull my hand away and go to move the bowl of cream, but he
grabs my wrist and stops me. "Where are you going with that?"

He sits back on his heels and dips a berry into the cream, scooping up a large
dollop. He dots some on my body before offering me the strawberry to eat. I take
a bite and then he does, finishing it off before tossing the stem away. He puts
the bowl on the nightstand before he starts in on me, getting into a comfortable
spot so he can lick the cool whipped cream off my warm skin. My body shudders
under the touch of his tongue and lips as he kisses me up and down my abdomen
even after he's licked the cream off.

He concentrates on my breasts next, circling each one with his slow, teasing
tongue. His hand slides between my thighs, honing in right where I want it the
most. He slides some fingers into me as his thumb makes tight circles on my clit
and I swear I'm burning up from needing him.

Harm doesn't stop until I'm almost there . . . so close to being *there* that
the room is spinning around me. He must be able to sense the rising tension in
my body because he quits everything. Quits everything and lies down on his back.

"Come here," he says, pulling me in his direction. I straddle his hips and tease
him now by caressing his erection with my wet folds. His eyes shut as he waits
for me to sink down on him, but the smooth head of his penis feels so good
against my clit. I keep it up for another minute and I can tell it's driving him
insane.

"Mac, please . . ." he says, opening his eyes. They are pleading with me as much
as his words are and I rock forward enough to let him in. I sink down and his
entire expression changes almost immediately to one of absolute pleasure. My
hands rest on his chest, my thumbs brushing across his nipples, as I begin to
rock harder up and down on him. His one hand is on my hip, guiding my pace and
the other one moves back to my clit, applying just the perfect pressure. He
knows me so well already, just after one day.

We continue to move against each other, thrust and counter-thrust, and once
again, I lose track of time. I'm sure it's been more than ten minutes since we
started this game, but I'm not sure. Only Harmon Rabb does that to me.

I feel that familiar flutter start in my core and it just takes a few more
seconds of him touching me and I'm there. Going over the edge and falling and
falling . . . with only the person underneath me to catch me.

"Good?" he asks, his voice filled with unfulfilled need. I take hold of his
hands, locking our fingers together as I hold them up over his head.

"Good," is all I answer and he gives me another cocky smile. He knows he's good
at it. Just like I know I'm good. With that, I begin to move faster, leaning far
enough forward that my breasts tease him. I know he likes them. A lot.

It doesn't take much more for him to reach release. His hands grip mine so
tightly, my rings cut into my fingers but I just take the pain. I'm the one who
left them on. I clench all my inner muscles around him, heightening the
sensation for him. He pants through his orgasm, his nostrils flaring, desperate
for air. Desperate to breathe. He releases my hands from his tight grip, but I
don't pull away just yet.

Finally, when he's spent, I slide off and lie down beside him, my arm thrown
over his chest. He's still struggling for air but then again, so am I. I just
didn't notice I wasn't breathing this time.

"Now is it time for that afternoon nap?" he asks, pulling me even closer.

"It's only 11:14, Harm. If we nap now, what will we do this afternoon?" I ask,
running my fingers across the hair on his chest. I can tell time again now that
the storm has passed and we are finished.

"I can think of a few things we can do this afternoon," he says, as his
breathing becomes more normalized. We both say nothing. Just watch as a sunbeam
plays across the room, focusing mainly on us. Good thing he got the room with
the private porch. "Perfervid."

"Excuse me?" I ask, propping myself up a little to look at him.

"Perfervid. A nine letter word that means 'impassioned.' And it fits, too," he
says, closing his eyes. Yes, maybe it is time for a nap.

"Okay. You win. You are good," I say, snuggling back down next to him.

"Maybe," he says quietly. "But MacKenzie still sounds better."

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

I get my wish. We wake up together sometime after noon and she's still in my
arms, warm and soft. As if she senses I'm awake, her eyes open, too and she
smiles at me.

"So, it turned into our afternoon nap, didn't it?" she says, her hand brushing
across my chest. I give her a half smile, knowing that we have less than twenty
four hours left of this. Would she call it quits with Brumby if I asked her to?
Would I have the nerve to ever ask?

"We need to talk," I say, and her hand stops moving. She draws in a deep breath
and I don't hear her exhale right away.

Finally she does before speaking nervously. "About what?"

"This. We keep saying don't talk about it and don't think about it, but Mac . .
."

"What do you want to know?" she asks and I'm not sure what she means. "Do you
want to know if I'm leaving him because of this? Do you want to know what to do
if you meet someone else? Do you want to know what it's going to be like for me
when I pass you in the halls this week or we go up against each other in court?
Do want to know what it's going to be like the next time I'm making love to
someone and it isn't you? What are we going to talk about, Harm? Where do we
start talking?"

"Are you? Leaving him?" I ask, my voice filled with apprehension. She senses it
because she rolls over on her back and stares at the ceiling. She blinks back
the tears that are starting to form in her eyes and licks her bottom lip.

"He gave up everything for me, Harm. His career and his home. He did it without
a second of doubt," she says, her voice low and cold. Yes, Mic was always so
willing to give it all up and I never was. Then again, neither was she.

"I'll give it all up if that's what you want. I'll find a different career.
There's more to life than being in the Navy," I say and she just snorts.

"You? Give up the Navy? Harm, it's in your blood. You can say it, but you know
when it comes right down to it, you've never been able to give up anything for
another person," she says, rolling back over to look me in the eyes. "Have you
ever thought of giving it up for anyone else?"

"Once. A long time ago," I say, looking away from her. It wouldn't have worked
then any better than this is going to. If one person has to give up everything
that makes them what they are, then will they still be what the other person
fell in love with? I didn't know the answer then, either.

"And she told you not to do it, right?" she asks, resting her hand on my cheek
and turning my head so I'm facing her again.

"Sort of," I answer, not wanting to go into it further. Not now. Not ever with
her.

"And if you meet someone else . . . I don't know, Harm. I can't ask for you to
be monogamous to a relationship like this. I get to go home to someone. You
should have that, too," she says and I can hear the bitterness in her voice just
from suggesting it. Yes, we might want to go home to each other, but it isn't
going to happen now. Not yet.

"I'm sorry," I say, putting my hand over hers. "I'm sorry we ever started this.
I'm sorry I started this."

I am. I knew it would be hard afterwards, but I didn't know it would be this
hard.

"I'm not. It's been there, simmering right below the surface for years, Harm. It
had to go somewhere. It just had to. And when I run into you on Tuesday and if I
look like I'm about to cry, walk away, okay? Don't say anything. Just walk
away," she says. She moves her hand and mine off of my face and entwines our
fingers, squeezing mine gently.

"I didn't want this to hurt," I whisper. She just breathes softly, not saying
anything for a few minutes. I focus on where our hands are joined, her left hand
in mine. Her hand with another man's rings on it. And there is no one to blame
for that but me.

"It was stupid for us to think that it wouldn't hurt at all. That we would just
do this and somehow, magically, life would go back to normal when we went home,"
Mac says, her voice filled with so much sadness. "You know it will never be the
same again."

"I know. Just don't think I'm going to let up on you in the courtroom because
I've seen you naked now," I say, wanting to ease the tension in the room.

"I'll be lucky to be able to keep from laughing the next time you're up there
trying to fluster some witness with your smile. I'll just keep thinking of you
right now, like this and it will be a struggle," she says, pulling her hand free
from mine and brushing it across my abdomen and then lower.

"Yes, it will be hard for you to work with the image of my manhood burned into
your mind," I joke as she wraps her hand around my flaccid 'manhood' and pumps
it until I respond, growing hard beneath her fingers.

"I think I'll get by," she says as she moves down and brushes her tongue against
the head of my penis, sending all my senses into a tailspin. She wraps her lips
around me and begins to flick her tongue everywhere and I'm grabbing onto the
sheets again. Damn. We are going to do these sheets in before we check out.

"Oh, yeah. I think you'll have to figure out how to get by because I'm not going
to let you quit now," I say as her tongue continues on.

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

"Where are we going?" I ask as I climb into the taxi. Harm just shakes his head
and refuses to tell me. I hope wherever it is, they have food because I'm
starving.

"You'll see," is all he says as he gives the driver the address.

I have on a summery dress and I'm glad I threw it in my bag. Harm is dressed
somewhat casually and we'll fit in anywhere on the shore. I'm still hoping they
have food.

The driver goes for a few miles and pulls into a restaurant called The Lobster
House. Leave it to Harm to pick out something that probably doesn't have a
single piece of red meat in sight. I'm sure he did that quite on purpose.

He looks at me and smiles. "I called ahead. You can get a steak," he says as he
gets out of the cab and pays the driver.

"Good. I need some real nourishment after the last day. Not just a salad with
some shrimp sprinkled on top," I say and he takes my hand as we move toward the
door. For some reason, these moments of intimacy out in public are almost as
wonderful as anything that happens behind the bedroom door. Let the world see we
are sleeping together. Who the hell cares.

Unfortunately, there are people who care. A lot of people who would care and
it's easy to say here miles away from anyone we know.

We enter the restaurant and he puts his arms around my shoulders, holding me
close.

"Harmon Rabb! I thought I saw your Stearman out at the airfield," someone says
from behind us and we both stiffen up immediately. Damn. So much for a nice,
quiet night out where no one knows us.

Harm lets go of me and turns around, smiling at the person who recognized him.

"Scott? Hey! How are you? How long has it been?" Harm asks with a bright smile,
slipping easily into his overly congenial self.

"Three or four years. And who is this beautiful woman?" the man called 'Scott'
asks, taking my hands into his. Of course, he notices right away. I have those
rings still on my fingers. "Harm! You dog! Why didn't we get an invite?"

The 'we' he must be referring to is standing right behind him. Scott is several
inches shorter than Harm and his wife is even shorter still. Petite and blonde
with bright blue eyes.

"Um, this is, um . . ." Harm says, having to come up with a lie and failing. I'm
sure it never dawned on him that this might happen.

"First of all, these are my grandmother's rings. She just passed away recently
and I . . .just like to wear them. Second of all, I'm Sarah," I say, pulling my
hands away from Scott. Harm takes a hold of my left hand and looks at the rings
quickly before releasing me. I cross my arms in front of me, not happy with this
intrusion on our night out.

"Sarah, this is Jessica," he says, and his wife steps out of his shadow. She
doesn't say much, just mumbles a 'hello' and steps back again. "Jess, I'm sure
you remember Harm."

The two of them just nod at each other and then Jessica stares down at her
bright red fingernails. Yeah, from that look, I bet they know each other.

"How long are you in town?" Scott asks and Harm doesn't even answer before he
goes on. "We'll be here until Wednesday. We'll have to get together. Go flying
or something. The girls can go shopping and we'll take to the air. Sound good?"

The man is slightly past mildly annoying. He keeps pushing his sandy brown bangs
off of his tan forehead and I know he's not in the military. I doubt he ever has
been. Probably just an airplane hobbyist Harm met along the way.

"We're leaving tomorrow morning. Sarah has to get back to work," Harm says. At
least that isn't a total lie. We both do. I also happen to have to get back to a
husband.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Well, do you want to share a table for dinner? I'm sure. . .
"

"I don't think so, Scott. It's our last night here and we really wanted to be
alone," I say before Harm gets a chance to accept. I don't want to spend an
uncomfortable dinner making up lies and being ignored by someone named Jessica.
Harm shifts from foot to foot as a look of disappointment crosses Scott's face.

"Maybe we'll catch up to you later. Have a nice night," he says, looking miffed
at me.

"You, too. Night, Jess," Harm says and she just gives him a plastic smile.

They walk off hand in hand and check with the hostess on how long it will be
until they are seated.

"You better go put our name in," I say to Harm, pulling him back close to me.
"You didn't want to spend the evening with them, did you?"

"I only want to be with you, Mac. I forgot all about the fly-in or the fact I
might know someone here. You. . . have that effect on me," he says, leaning down
and kissing me on the cheek. "Good catch with the rings, counselor. I always
knew you could think fast on your feet."

"I'm beginning to think you like me better off my feet," I say a little too
loudly and an elderly couple nearby turns around and look at us before turning
around and whispering something to each other. Harm gets embarrassed and stands
up straighter.

"Why did you leave them on?" he asks, holding up my hand and looking at the
rings again.

"There is no hiding it by taking them off," I say, pulling my hand from his and
sliding the rings off my fingers. I hold up my hand for him to examine. I've
worn the rings for so long that they have left tiny marks on my skin where they
touch day in and day out. And then the area is a little bit lighter from being
hidden from the sun all summer. "See, either way, it's obvious."

"I'm sorry you had to lie," he says, his voice barely a whisper.

"What? You think it's the first time? Do you think it's going to be the last?" I
ask as I slide my jewelry back on my finger, twisting them so the diamond
solitaire is in front.

Harm just looks down at his feet and doesn't say a word.

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

August 10, 2003

"What time is it?" I ask Mac. There is no sun streaming through the windows this
morning. Instead, I hear the distant rumble of thunder out over the ocean.
Hopefully, the storm will pass quickly so we can . . . fly home. My heart sinks
when I realize this is it. We have to leave soon. Dinner was followed by a walk
on the beach and raucous sex up against the door, before we both fell down in
bed, exhausted. Neither of us woke the other one up overnight.

"It's 0900," Mac says, opening her sleepy eyes briefly. She wipes them, trying
to wake up but ends up pulling a pillow over her head instead.

"We have to check out in two hours," I say and she mumbles something about not
caring. That she's going to keep sleeping until housekeeping comes and pulls her
out of the bed.

"You'd rather spend our last two hours here sleeping than with me?" I pout and
she tosses the pillow in my direction.

"No," she says, "but I've got to pee."

She hops out of bed and I watch her naked body as she walks quickly across the
room. I smile at her openness. It isn't totally like being brand new lovers.
We've known each other for over half a decade now. I get up out of bed and
follow her and she doesn't seem to care when I walk into the head. Of course,
I'm sure Marine boot camp also killed some of those inhibitions as well as years
of marriage. She leans forwards, resting her elbows against her knees as I put
toothpaste on my toothbrush.

"Is this what married life is like?" I ask before I begin brushing my teeth.

"A little. But this doesn't have the shared worries about bills and the mortgage
payment and who's going to take care of you when you get old," she says, her
voice sounding serious. "I mean, the intimacy is there. It's nice to know
there's always someone to talk to, but at the same time, there's always someone
who wants to talk back. It isn't sex all day and all night. Well, not after the
first year or so."

I almost choke on my toothpaste and have to spit it out. I rinse out my mouth
and wipe my face on a towel. In that time, she's gotten up and is grabbing her
toothbrush. It's my turn to use the head and she ignores me as if this is an
everyday occurrence. Of course, with her, it might be.

"So, you're saying after the first year or two, married life goes downhill?" I
ask, finishing up and standing behind her. She finishes with brushing and then
splashes cool water on her face, her fingers spreading it through her hair so
it's pushed back behind her ears.

"I'm not saying another thing," she says as she turns to leave, pulling me with
her. We make a beeline back to the bed and I don't really need to know anymore
about her life at home. I've got her for a few more hours and I want them to be
something she'll never forget.

She's under me, warm flesh against warm flesh, her mouth opening under mine. Our
tongues dual for control and it's almost as desperate as our first time. I pull
away and look down at her. God only knows when we'll ever do this again. If
we'll ever do this again. She bites her bottom lip and turns her head away,
looking at the window. It's raining now, the drops pelting hard against the
panes of glass. The sky pouring down everything its got, as if its crying for
us.

As quickly as she looked away, she looks back at me, pulling my mouth down to
hers. Her legs wrap around my waist and I feel her sex move against mine,
opening up to me. She's warm and wet and I can't imagine anywhere I'd rather be.
A thunderclap shakes everything in the room as I slide into her and we both
still, waiting for the rumbling to pass. Our mouths are barely touching and our
eyes are wide open.

A flash of lightning illuminates the gray room and it's followed by an even
larger clap of thunder.

"Move. Oh, God, please move," she says against my mouth and I do. I'll move as
much as she wants me to. I start out slowly at first, but with every passing
band of rain, we both begin to move more, each working with the other. Or
against the other. Just like always. Nothing's really that different.

"Tell me that this isn't it," I say, my voice desperate and betraying all my
emotions. My body betrays them, too. I pound into her, needing her so badly.
Needing to have a part of her that belongs to no other and that is the memory of
her in Cape May, New Jersey, making love to me on the tenth of August. That
belongs to me and he can't have it.

"I can't promise anything," she says, her words coming out in between gasps for
air. "I . . . can't promise . . . anything."

She closes her eyes as I piston into her even faster. Another quick flash of
lightning fills the room with light and with that, her eyes open again, more
focused than before. Focused only on me.

"Promise me something," I say, begging. I need to know how she feels. I need to
know if this will matter tomorrow. "Promise you'll never forget this."

Our fingers are clenched together and I don't even remember how that happened.
She squeezes my hand even tighter. "I won't. Oh, God. . . how could I?" she
says, her voice barely there. The rain begins to pour even harder, banging
against the window panes with a fury I've never seen before. It's coming off the
ocean and dumping right down on us.

"I . . . don't know," I say, kissing her quickly in between thrusts. Her hips
rise up to meet mine and I won't be able to take it much longer.

"I'm drowning and it's all your fault. It's all your fault . . . " she whispers
and she's not talking about the ocean outside or the water falling from the sky.
We are both drowning in this torrent we've created and I don't know how to
escape. I have no idea what to do tomorrow to save myself, let alone her.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," I say, wanting to apologize for so many things. She
pulls a hand out of mine and sets a fingertip over my lips, quieting me.

With a few more thrusts, her body is shaking under mine as tremors take over
every inch of her. I can feel them tighten around me and it drives me even
closer to the edge. Finally, thunder rocks the entire room, and I come inside of
her, filling her with everything I've got. I collapse on top of her body, both
of us covered in a light sheen of sweat. I can't stop gasping for air and I
swear I'm the one drowning now. I slip out of her and hold her in my arms, both
of us facing the rain-soaked window. Both of us saying nothing as we watch the
storm pass us by.

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

I can't let him go. We stand at his home airfield, both of us clinging to the
other and I can't let him go. My fingers are clutching onto his shirt and I . .
. don't want to ever let go.

"Sarah," he whispers and I'm lost. I'm absolutely lost as to what I'm supposed
to do. I'm the tough Marine. I'm supposed to know how to handle everything.
"It's going to be okay."

His voice isn't very convincing. We both have to drive back to our worlds and
learn how to live there. Learn how to live with this weekend forever. Learn how
to live without each other. I don't think I want to.

"It might be okay, but it's never going to be the same," I say as he rocks me in
his arms as if I were a crying little girl.

"No, it's not."

That's all he says as he moves my hands so they are in his. I look up into his
eyes, expecting to see nothing. Like after the first time we made love. That's
the look I expect to see from now on. But it isn't there. No, this is something
I've never seen before. Oh, God. It's even worse. I could handle nothing. I
can't handle this look of absolute, unconditional love. I can't live with the
memory of this and go back to Mic. I look away before my heart breaks. Why
couldn't he look at me like that years ago? Why now?

There are no answers to satisfy me. He doesn't even know the damn answers.

"I've got to go," I whisper, and we kiss each other just once. A light, casual
kiss because I can't trust myself with more. I know I can't.

I turn and walk away from him and it hurts like hell not to look back.

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