27She returns indoors feeling more confused than when she exited. In silence she pours herself a cup of coffee, and finds a seat on the kitchen counter. Her husband glances at her from the kitchen island.
"How did it go?"
"They already knew."
"Come again?"
"Harper, and Piper already knew. Apparently last year when I went out of town for a conference they decided to snoop in the attic of the garage."
He furrows his brow, "They're nine. Certainly they couldn't have used anything up there to…"
She cuts him off, "This is your fault."
"How is this my fault? You know that they are incorrigible. I do my best when you are not around, but as I seem to recall I am outnumbered."
"You were the one who encouraged me to stay home with them for the first year. As I recall you were also the one who felt guilty that they were going to have to go to some sort of day care, and stayed home with them for six months after that. They have you wrapped, and the little sponges have soaked up every single thing we have ever taught them."
"You're saying it is my fault that they are gifted?"
"They were fluent in three languages by age two."
"There is really no need to cast blame. We need to sit down and determine what our course of action is."
"They suggested that I just keep it to myself," she argues.
"You're just saying that, because it is what you want. We both know that you are not innocent in all of this."
"Nope, they actually suggested it. They want nothing to do with him. Do you think that is all my fault?"
He sees her begin her guilt-shame spiral.
"Sarah," his voice brings her back to reality.
She locks eyes with him, "Clayton…" she begins.
He cuts her off, "The only way to prevent yourself from falling down the rabbit hole is to talk to him. I know that the two of you lack the ability to effectively communicate with each other. I have seen it firsthand. I think that we both know that one of the reasons that you couldn't make your relationship work is because you couldn't communicate with each other. The fact of the matter is that the two of you have two concrete reasons that you need to communicate. I have my opinion, and you have yours. The girls they have their opinions too, but at the end of the day Harm gets a say too. He has legal rights. We agreed to cross the bridge when the time was right. I don't think we can avoid it any longer. You seeing him recently only solidified it. You have made your choices, and now you have to face them."
Their conversation is interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Sarah spins around.
"Piper how many times do we have to have the same conversation?"
"I thought that clearing my throat would be considered announcing my presence," she argues as if an expert litigator.
"Before you enter the room," Sarah, and Clayton say in unison.
"I thought you might want this," Piper holds out the colonel's phone.
Mac readily accepts the phone. "Thank you."
Piper turns to leave.
"Wait!" Mac calls after her.
Piper stops in front of her mother. She looks the colonel in the eye. Her piercing blue eyes search Mac's for answers. The nine year old stands just a few inches short of her mother's frame. Without another word Mac envelopes her in a hug. She is certain that she never wants to let go. She brushes her long dark locks out of her face. She presses her lips to her forehead.
"I love you."
"Love you to, mom. I can't breathe, can you let go, now?"
Mac releases her, "Sorry. It's just hard sometimes," she feels herself starting to choke up.
"Geez, mom, don't start. I am nine, not nineteen."
"You are just so grown up, and sometimes…" Mac internally chides herself for externally expresses so much vulnerability that she is nearly blubbering.
"I'll go play a board game if you let me go. I'll choose something really juvenile like Sorry!, or something."
"Please don't make your sister cry this time," Clayton warns.
"No promises," Piper responds as she races up the stairs.
As she sips her coffee she feels her palms sweating. She glances at her watch it is getting late. For a moment she considers leaving money on the table, and bolting out the door. She feels nauseated, as she considers the mission at hand. Her intrusive thoughts are interrupted by the sound of a bell dinging over the door. Her glance shifts, and she finds an old flame moving towards her. She rises to greet him out of habit, and respect of rank. He subtly shakes his head.
"I am sorry for the short notice," she apologizes.
"I am only in port until 0600. I have to say that I am surprised you called. Based on our last interaction I was convinced that you want nothing to do with me.
"That is true at least in part," she admits pointedly.
"I don't understand," he replies.
"I am sorry that came out far more harshly than I intended."
"Honesty often does. Why did you ask me to meet you here?"
"We can go somewhere else. I just figured that this was the closest thing to where you were," she reveals.
"It is. I have come here a few times before. It isn't five star, but as far as diner's go it isn't bad. They make a great cup of coffee."
As if on cue a waitress saunters over. He smiles politely as she offers him a cup. He nods graciously, and watches as the steam rolls of the elixir in his cup.
"Mac, what are we doing here?"
"You were right. We do have some things that we need to talk about."
"I'm listening."
"First I feel obligated to preface this by saying that this conversation is not going where you think it is. I have no interest in rekindling what we may have once had."
"I understand."
"I do hope that we can move forward as civilized human beings," she continues.
"Affirmative."
She furrows her brow, "I would not advise agreeing until you have heard all of the details that I need to discuss with you."
"Yes, counselor," he nods.
