When the Violets Bloom Again
"Can I drive?"
"No, dammit, for the last time, no!"
Pennsylvania rolled by, an undulating wave of corn and telephone wires. Sometimes they'd pass an Amish buggy rolling slowly towards one of the big red barns dotted with hex signs. This was the reason why Hawkeye chose to drive. The kids had pouted, Margaret had questioned the mechanical condition of the wagon, but he won. He didn't win many of his battles lately.
Hawkeye's mood was less than chipper. Partly because Ellie was bugging him about driving. She had her license for just over a year and was looking to get motoring even if it meant the family wanted to leave her in one of these cornfields. Hey, it would cut down on the college tuition bills they were paying.
The youngest Pierce had his enormous feet just inches from Hawkeye's head. Ben brought an 8-track player. His contribution to the drive was a four hour medley of humping, grunting Rufus tunes. To make matters worse, for the first hour Ellie and Ben sang along.
It was a long drive from Maine to Missouri. Under happier circumstances it wouldn't have been so bad.
Margaret's reaction to the news had equaled that of a nuclear meltdown. She hung up the phone and cried for six straight hours. Hawkeye held her, talked to her and stroked her golden hair until she finally drifted to sleep, eyes red and cheeks damp. She called him the next day from the office about three times.
"I miss him so much already," she said. He could hear a ballpoint pen clicking faster and faster.
"I can't believe I won't ever be able to pick up the phone and call him. Ever!"
Hawkeye internalized his grief. For the first in memory he got a little tipsy on gin and wandered up to the attic where his Army stuff was stored. Out of the footlocker came his frayed and stained Hawaiian shirt, still carrying dirt and lipstick stains from his first intimate encounter with Margaret in the hut. Hawkeye held it to his chest and sniffed it. He was immediately wracked with a sneezing fit. His purple bathrobe came next, followed by a Valentine's Day card he didn't have the courage to give Margaret all those years ago. Underneath it all was the old photo album that held the few pictures he had of his wartime experiences. One was a group shot with Charles frowning in the back. Hawkeye had his arm on Margaret's arm and if he closed his eyes he could remember the warm feel of her skin under his fingertips. There was Colonel Potter beside them smiling at the camera.
Christ, he already missed the guy.
It was a rough year. First his father in January, now Potter in the waning days of May.
The sun was high in the blue sky. More corn waved in the slight breeze. Everyone had fallen asleep in the warm light. Hawkeye looked at his daughter in the rear view mirror. Florida's sun had been kind to her. Ben was bulking back up for football.
There was Margaret beside him in the passenger's seat, her head resting on the door sill. The sun caught her crucifix and sent glints on the dashboard. She'd been wearing it ever since word came that Potter died. Her hair was long again, and she had it pinned up like the night he'd stained his Hawaiian shirt. Hawkeye always loved watching her sleep. The way her lower lip stuck out a bit and how it was really the only time she was ever quiet drove him crazy. Tears began to roll down her cheeks as he gawked.
"Are you crying again?"
Margaret sat up and wiped her eyes with the back of her hands.
"No."
Hawkeye gave her a knowing look.
"You know, I didn't think there was this much corn in the world. How much of it do we actually eat? Maybe ten ears a summer? Look - just acres and acres of it. Someone's got to be making money somehow," he babbled.
Margaret began to search around on the floor board, coming up with a sandwich wrapped in foil. She unwrapped it slowly and took one bite before the tears began to fall again.
"Come on, come over here," Hawkeye smiled, pulling her against his shoulder. She held the sandwich up and he took a bite.
"We'll stop soon and get some rest. The kids are out cold and you could use some sleep, too," he said, chewing.
"What about you? You've been driving for...twelve hours straight!" Margaret said, checking her watch.
"I don't mind. It lets me think."
"About what? Corn?"
Hawkeye kissed her wet cheek. "Give me another bite."
She smiled at him, a move guaranteed to make him dizzy.
"Okay, we'll stop next town over," he sighed.
She kept smiling and wrapped her arms around his waist. One of his hands wandered to her knee, but she shooed it off.