Casualties of Peace
"Doctor Hunnicut," called his new nurse, Tabitha. She had not gotten the trick of the intercom machine yet, so she kept calling him across the room, which was not only distracting, but rather indiscreet. BJ sighed. He would have to show her the button sequence again.. Gosh, he missed Mrs. Higgins, but could not deny the old girl a honeymoon, after all. Could he?
BJ had established a fair general practice (having experienced enough emergency medicine to last him a lifetime in merely two years at the Korean front) Six years later, Hawkeye remained his most faithful correspondent, simply exchanging "Dear Dad" for "Dear Beej" , and sending monthly chronicles of life in Crabapple Cove.
Hunnicut was always eager to receive the annual edition of Klinger's " MASH Notes" for gossip and news of the old 4077 gang. The only one unaccounted for was Margaret Houlihan .Of course this mystery intrigued Hawkeye, who initiated a search for the army nurse. But not even all Klinger's contacts had been able to trace her.
"Yeh can't find somebody who doesn't wanna be found," Klinger concluded philosophically. "Sorry, Captain."
Hawkeye's letters to California continued, full of local color and impersonal news. But BJ noticed the absence of any particular woman's name included in his domestic chatter; it made him sad, that his best friend could not find the kind of happiness he enjoyed with Peg. It made him wonder about Margaret ; where she was, what she was doing, and who she was doing it with. Why the mysterious silence?
There was only one other woman who had made an impression on BJ during his two year hitch in hell, and her name was everywhere.
"Doctor Hunnicut," Tabitha called again, "There's a lady on the line."
"Can you take a message, Tab?"
"She's pretty insistent, Doctor." BJ sighed and guessed he would have to explain gate- keeping to his temporary assistant, too, as well as the intricacies of Button on-Button off. "Hunnicut," he answered wearily.
"Well, BJ, you sound wonderful!" The cheery voice rang in his ear, tickling a memory.
"Ah...so do you..." he answered cautiously.
"I've just moved to your fair city. How about showing a neighbor around?"
"Well..."
"Still the all-American boy eh? Ok, so bring Peg, I would sure like to meet the little filly that kept you in her corral for all these years...yeah, I know you're still taken; it is my job to know everything, remember? Information is my business. And I really do need to learn my new territory, so ...Lunch? Supper?"
Who was this relentless woman? "I'm sorry, I-"
"Oh, for goodness sake's, you don't recognize my voice? And the bright and breezy manner has not given me away? Think peanut butter and jelly sandwiches...it's Aggie," she insisted. "Aggie O'Shea."
"Aggie?! Oh, my gosh!" he was nearly speechless. "How are you? How have you been? Where are you?'
"Well, I'm on the first floor of San Fran hospital, looking for you. But they tell me you don't have any rounds today."
"Thank God, no. I like it when I can steer clear of the city; means my patients are healthy enough to stay home."
"Well, how about it? Can Peg drive into the city and meet us at LaCoasta, my treat?"
The notion was so surprising and strange, BJ was baffled for a moment. "Uh...tell ya what, how about a traditional Valley barbeque at our place? We're at ..."
"Oh, I'll find you. Information is my business, you know. See ya at six?"
"Fine. No, great. How extraordinary to hear from you, after all these years..."
"BJ, you are not supposed to say that to a lady...you're implying I've grown old."
"Aggie, you could never grow old. And you make me feel younger just hearing your voice..."
"Ah, now you're learning...til six, Doctor Hunnicut. I'll bring a date."
She clicked off and he phoned Peg almost instantly. "Darlin', you will never guess who I just heard from..." The enthusiasm in his voice delighted her. The last few months, BJ's voice had seemed flat to her, even in the light of their charmed life; even whatever she tried to do to rekindle it.
"Who, Darling?"
"Aggie O'Shea!"
It was not a name she had ever associated with her husband. "Who? The Writer? The Artist?"
"Yeah...hey, she's coming for barbeque tonight, around six. She said something about moving to the city and she would like some advice from a neighbor..." and during Peg's continued silence, it suddenly occurred to BJ that he had never mentioned his meeting the famous journalist, or especially having been propositioned by her in Korea. Even though his love for Peg, his honor, his own sanity had held out against Aggie's attractive offer, he still had never mentioned her. Peg had to wonder why.
"Fine, I'll get to the market and pick up a few things. Uh, Sweetie, when did you ever meet her?" she tried to keep her voice level, and failed
"She was a war correspondent, she came to the 4077 following some soldiers for a story, and...And she stayed for a few days, then she came back for a few days...I remember, Hawkeye kept chasing her..."
"Did he ever catch her?" She was relieved, could breathe again, even chuckle, expecting a new Hawkeye story.
"Naw, she was...no, he never did,." he amended, and his voice got that flat quality again. "Immune to his obvious charms, I guess. See ya soon, Peggy."
He left the line, and had a strange sensation in his gut. Aggie O'Shea. He remembered talking to her for hours, the most fascinating woman he had ever met. Totally different from the quiet and calming Peg. Aggie O'Shea had excitement, energy, boundless curiosity and courage and expressed it in scintillating ways. He had never known a woman like her, was startled to discover he could be moved, captured even, by another woman. And the threat of her availability and her interest in him was a temptation he was glad to have fought off so successfully.
Only Father Mulcahey had known how very real her threat was, when BJ turned to him for counsel and confession. He was completely assured he could trust the kindly chaplain to keep his confidence, and not bring it up ever again to haunt him. BJ made several tramps across the compound to spend some time in Mulcahey's company until the fever broke.
That is how he remembered Aggie O'Shea - a fever that burned though him. And so of course he had invited her to re- enter his life, asked her to supper for God's sakes, at his home, his and Peg's. His past had caught up with him.
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"BJ!" she squealed, rushing into his arms and he stiffened. Peg did not look pleased, but covered her displeasure with her welcoming outstretched hand.
"Miss O'Shea, it is a genuine pleasure to meet you. I understand you met my husband in Korea"
At the sound of Peg's voice, Aggie disengaged from BJ's arms and shook Peg's hand heartily. "Aggie, please, and may I call you Peg? I feel like we're old friends, BJ had spoken of you so often, and with such tenderness. And --Oh, my," she twirled in a circle and called out to her car. "Edwin O'Shea, this is it. Come on...Kids…" she shrugged, in the universal helpless- parent gesture. "This is my son, Win."
The dark-haired five- year- old came to his mother's side, then stuck out his hand to Peg without visible coaching from Aggie, and recited his little speech. "I am Win. Nice to meet you , Mrs. Hunnicut, Doctor Hunnicut. Thank you for the invitation. I am sure it will be swell."
Just then Erin Hunnicut came from the kitchen juggling a large bowl of salad. Win sprinted over to her and helped steady the first course.
"Erin?" Aggie suspected. BJ just nodded in agreement. "She's a beauty, BJ. And so graceful."
"She dances," Peg added proudly.
"I cannot believe this blossoming young lady is that little baby in the pictures...Oh, Peg, you should have seen BJ's tent...covered with photos of you and Erin..."
"You were inside his tent?" her voice rose dangerously.
"Uh...could you bring the steaks out, Honey? I think it's hot enough out here now... time to grill the meat and not the guests," BJ steered Peg toward the house. Aggie looked on, amused.
"Aggie, it's great to see you again, and you look...just terrific . It's just that, well..."
"You never told Peg about me. About us." She grinned mischievously.
"There never was an 'us'..." he said firmly.
"Not for lack of trying..." she teased.
"Your son?" BJ nodded in the boy's direction..
"Yep..." she smiled proudly. "That's my boy."
"Are you...divorced?" he asked cautiously.
She batted her lashes at him. "Of course, I could say I left my heart in Korea," and then looked guilty. " I don't supposed I mentioned it when we met, but…there was a guy waiting for me back in the States. City editor, an old-fashioned guy who thought the hassles of traveling hither and yon would suck the printer's ink from my veins. When I got back, he was still waiting…but my heart was still traveling. Not a successful recipe for eternal matrimony, I fear."
"So what are you doing here?"
"I loved my work, Beej. I loved learning everything and knowing everyone but, it's time for Win to settle down, get a more conventional education. His little heart is set on Stanford, and who am I to disappoint him? So, I took an editorial job with the Hearst chain. Desk job," she sighed. "So I will be correcting history instead of writing it."
"Or making it."
"Well, I have done my fair share of that. I hope that my struggling to get accepted in the boy's club will help some other girls break through .into journalism." She glanced over at the children setting the picnic table together and laughing. "Well, at least one O'Shea has captured one Hunnicut..."
"Here's the steaks, Darling," Peg emphasized and summed up the couple's conversation. "So, will you be living in the city?" she asked in performance of her good hostess duties.
"Yeah, I have a really nice condo on the hill, near my new office. I'll have to return your hospitality and invite you all to have supper with me. Of course, I never had time to learn to cook, so you may have to settle for delivery...I imagine you can give me some suggestions for good take- out...Chinese, maybe?"
"There's a great little Chinese place near the hospital, they deliver..." BJ began.
"Well, I am home all day and enjoy cooking for my family, trying new recipes, so we don't eat out very often. BJ likes Chinese, but I really can't take all the msg," Peg replied archly.
Aggie gave her a tight smile. Seems like nothing she could do would disarm the ferocious Mrs. Hunnicut.
"Erin," she caught the girl's attention, " the newspaper has given me a welcome package, you know, coupons, passes, lists of places to see and go...I have a couple tickets to the Frisco ballet, if you're interested?"
Erin's eyes glowed. "Really? For me?" And just that quickly, in kids' years, Aggie had a new ally. "Daddy, can I, please?"
Peg's serene expression was slipping. Who was this woman who came into her home and turned everything topsy-turvy? A woman who "knew everything and had been everywhere" and probably slept with everyone...no, that was unfair. She knew she was projecting her own envy, but why should BJ be the target of this famous woman? After six years, why should she show up now, enticing her daughter and returning the twinkle to her husband's eyes?
"BJ," Aggie devoted her attention to him, "I have a secret agenda, of course," she smiled, laid a hand on his arm. "I've been thinking, since I 'm stuck at the desk now, editing other people's stuff, that I need to keep working on my own stuff, too. I would like to do another book about Korea..."
His curiosity was piqued. "What kind of book?"
"Well, I see it as an 'I - was-there-' kind of book, showing the experience of the non-soldier's role in a war. A draftee, not regular army. All the generals write their own exploits, and even correspondents get into the act..." she smiled about her own previous books , one following the adventures of one young soldier, and one detailing the work of the American missionaries. "This time, I would really like to shine some light on ...MASH units. I mean, you guys were vital to the effort, and most people do not even know you existed. I'd like to make it personal, and get the insights of folks from the 4077. Colonel Potter, as regular army-"
"Hey, you could even put in some of his paintings!" BJ was getting excited now.
"And the nurses...such an unusual role, a woman at war…and Winchester, he has been a great resource for me, I turn to him from time to time when I need expertise on a medical story, did you know? And of course, well, I had hoped you would be my consultant..."
"Me..Consultant? I usually just consult on whether somebody needs a tonsillectomy..." he glanced at Peggy, and knew by the slight shake of her head, that he had better decline. "Consultant...what would I have to do?"
"Just watch over the story, let me know if I am going off the beam...give me some contacts...we could meet a few times, I'd give you the manuscript to read, you would give me feedback...Peg," Aggie worked to get her involved in the project. "Do you have any of the letters BJ wrote you?"
"No, sorry."
Aggie looked disappointed.
"Peg, remember that box in the attic? You found them when we got out the Christmas decorations last year. Sure, Aggie, I bet we've got lots of stuff."
"I thought those letters were to me..." Peg said quietly, but with the steel of possession in her tone.
"But Peg, they could really be a boost to the book. They'd have the authenticity, details I've forgotten, maybe jog loose some other memories..."
"Mine," she insisted, still quiet, but still fighting for her letters, the tenuous hold she had had on her husband years and miles away. But she could see she had already lost. The shine was back in his eyes, the shine that she used to be responsible for. Aggie was luring him away, she could feel it, luring him back to a time when BJ was not hers. To a time she could never share. And because she was a simple housewife who had been nowhere and knew nothing, she was afraid.
Xxxxxxxx
BJ sat at his desk. He twirled his pen. He twirled in his chair. He twirled the spoon in his coffee, causing swirls of cream to dissolve and change the color of his morning drink from the deep rich brunette of Aggie's hair, to the lighter, toasted brown of Peg's. The entire situation was dissolving out of control.
Peg could feel it, too. BJ had never known her to be jealous before. It was almost as if by some deep female instinct, she knew what had nearly happened between Aggie and himself all those years ago, all those miles away, when it was just him and her and the entire Korean peninsula.
And BJ asked himself the same question Peg had asked him last week at bedtime. Why? Why had he never mentioned meeting Aggie O'Shea?
"She's a famous person. Everybody knows her, everybody reads her. Why did you never, ever mention her?"
He shrugged it off. "A lot of famous people came through our unit ; lots of them. Generals, general's sons; other reporters; a famous boxer once, Gentleman Jim something or other; David Sheridan, the composer, was Charles' patient; congressmen and their aides; we had a spectacular record for saving lives, it attracted plenty of attention."
"But I don't know any generals, or any congressional aides. I believe I would have recognized her name, though, if you had bothered to mention her. And her books. When you bought them, I just figured you were interested since you served in Korea. I never suspected you knew the author, spent time with her, invited her into your tent, that she remembered you after all these years..."
BJ pounded at his pillow. "Yes. OK. I met Aggie O'Shea in Korea, exactly twice. I did not 'invite' her into my tent, she came looking for Winchester, as I recall. If I didn't mention her, it was not because I was deliberately hiding something from you. Hell, Peggy when I came back, all I wanted to do was forget everything about that place and revel in you and Erin and the blessed ordinariness of our lives. Korea was a jumble of nightmares..."
Except for Aggie, he had to admit to himself. In just a few short hours she had turned him inside out, nearly made him forget Peg and Erin and everything waiting for him miles away. As fascinating a talker as she was, she was a better listener, rapt in his attention, listening and remembering everything, understanding his dreams and his fears and paying attention to the tiniest details he shared. Talking to her was like discovering himself all over again. She had some kind of magical key that opened him up, allowed him to express things he had pressed in the back of his mind filed under "think about this some other time, some place safe. "Aggie was that safe place, in the middle of all that pain and fear and chaos. A place to remember BJ Hunnicut and his ideas for the future, his fond memories of the past.
And now when his blessed ordinariness of life had become merely ordinary; when life consisted of putting one foot in front of the other, treating sprained ankles and measles, Parent-Teacher Association meetings every third Tuesday, and meatloaf on Wednesdays, Bonanza on Sundays, the entire routine had suddenly been blinded by a shining light from the distance. Something remarkable, uncanny, incredible, with energy and excitement enough for two had entered his humdrum existence and blown it to pieces like fireworks, glorious and colorful against the gray background of his current life.
He did not know what to do. He twirled the dial on the phone, and called for Hawkeye.
"Beej, this is amazing!" his old friend was apparently also exploding. "I have got a line on Margaret. Cleveland! She's in Cleveland. Or at least I think she is- at least she was six weeks ago. I was ready to give up looking, I had no encouragement from Pinkerton - did I tell you I hired a private eye?- and then all of a sudden, a phone call, a report in the mail. Cleveland! Beej...!" He could not slow down and his always rapid delivery was twisting his tongue. " I am so close, I can feel it. I am going to find her this time. Amazing, how one little letter, one voice on the phone, one hour out of your life and everything can change-!"
Boy, do I know that, BJ thought. "That is just great, Hawk. I hope you find her. I hope - I hope everything works out for you."
"Well, that's my news. What's yours?"
"Speaking of missing acquaintances and Korea... guess who dropped back into my life?"
Hawkeye waited.
"Remember Aggie O'Shea?"
"Remember, he says?" Hawkeye laughed. "Journalist extraordinaire, gorgeous, gutsy, and following you around, stuck like Turkish taffy? How did she turn up?"
"She took a desk job, with Hearst. Looked me up."
"Heh-heh-heh"
"Hawk, you know that's not funny. That is not the way it is." His voice grew serious. "That can't be the way it is. You know it can't."
"Are you trying to convince me, or you?"
"She asked me to work with her, as consultant on her new book about MASH units in Korea."
"Ah-ha."
"Well, I have some old letters, and I can refer her to others in the 4077, and -"
"She still gorgeous?"
"I should have known that would be the first question you would ask."
"Well?"
"Yeah. Gorgeous. Single."
"And Peg...?'
BJ was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Your wife of forever, Peg. The blonde with the ring and your fingerprints all over her...how is she taking this...collaboration?"
BJ sighed. "Yeah, that is a problem."
Hawkeye detected something in his friend's voice. "And how are you taking this collaboration...?"
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BJ thought that working on the book in Aggie's condo was not a good idea. In fact, he was beginning to think that working with Aggie on the book at all was not a good idea. Anywhere. Anytime.
He groaned low in his throat, twisted his arms and stretched them behind his head. Then he picked up the phone and dialed home, hoping that Peggy was not the one who answered.
"Oh, hi Darlin,' " he tried not to let his disappointment register.
"Oh, BJ, not again..." and Peg tried not to whine through her words, because she hated herself whining, and she hated that BJ was the one who made her do it.
"Sorry, Hon, but I've got to catch up on this paperwork, the hospital administrator is on my tail and I could lose my privileges here if I don't-"
"Yes, Ok. I know. I understand." She sighed. "We'll save you some dinner."
"No, thanks but don't bother. I'll catch something down here. And I'm gonna turn off my phone so I can concentrate, so if you call and don't get an answer, don't panic, OK? Sure. See yeh tonight. Yeh, love you too."
"BJ Hunnicut, you are a terrible liar." Aggie O'Shea came around in back of his chair, and began to deep rub his back. "A dedicated doctor like you, turning off a phone so you can do paperwork? Tch-tch. She knows, Beej." He moaned against her hands. "You have a lot of stress back there, Doctor. I recommend you tell your little wife at home the truth about where and how, and with whom you spend your evenings."
"I have. Many times, when we started. But it just makes her miserable, and that makes me miserable, and I suppose it's selfish but she just makes it easier to live with if I lie." He grimaced. Had Aggie hit a strained nerve, or was it that he was enjoying her touch too much?
"Peg does not like me," she stated the obvious. "Yet I have done everything I can think of to be as nice as I can be. I have complimented her home and her cooking. I have tried to win her over by getting little perks for Erin. I have offered her husband an opportunity to get published beyond the medical journals. But she really does not like me."
"And you know why."
"And so do you...and yet here you are..." He flicked her lips away from his ear and her hands slid up his arms and she began to knead his neck.
"Aggie, where is Win?"
"Out with friends," she replied casually.
"I ask, because he never seems to be around on evenings when I'm here," he observed pointedly.
She shrugged. "Win understands."
It sounded like a cryptic answer to BJ, and he wanted it clarified tonight. "What, exactly, does Win understand?"
"Win knows how hard I have to concentrate to slog away at the office all day and then still summon up enough mental power to work on this project. This story is very important to me; it's a side of the history of war that has never been told. I thought it was important to you, too. . I am really sorry if Peg does not understand or appreciate your work, but when this project is over -"
"Then she'll forgive me for spending all this time with you instead of her?"
"Come on, Beej, let's not snipe. It sucks all the creative energy out of the room, you know?"
"I guess neither of us understood how long this process could be..."
"And I guess it's just because I'm used to it." She strolled over to the kitchen and brought back two glasses of chardonnay. "Have a break."
"Coffee would be better..." he warned, but his heart was not in the protest.
"BJ, you know how I feel, how I've always felt about you, but I have always tried to play fair. There were guys before we met, and I won't lie, there were guys after. But no one like you. You are my gold standard. You never gave me any reason to hope, but I always compared them to you. Your honor, your decency, your faithfulness, all those things that I envy Peg for..."
She slid onto his lap and wound her arms around his neck. Her lips slid over his and lingered there as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
His arms came around her, and tightened. She arched her back, leaned backwards and his lips followed her.
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"Dad, can you cover my appointments for tomorrow...maybe a couple days, a week, tops?"
The elder Pierce nodded from habit. He had been down this road before, when Hawkeye would bound down the stairs and out the door in a rush, then return a few days later, silent and slumped in disappointment.
At first he thought his son's obsession with this phantom nurse was rather mad, and he confirmed with both the boy's psychiatrist Sidney Freedman, and his former commander Sherman Potter, to assure himself that Margaret Houlihan really did exist, and that the two of them had a relationship best described as "complicated." Daniel did not know which direction to take his prayers; should he hope that Hawkeye could be reunited with his mercurial mate? Or would it be better for her to fall off the edge of the earth and end his son's torment?
All he had wanted from the war was to have his son home and safe and sane... He had even been willing to negotiate on the "sane" part of his requirement, after he had received the first letter from Dr. Freedman. And even that small request had not been granted. His son was home; he was in the big wing chair before the fire; he was across from him at the breakfast table; he was walking the cliff above the sea; but Hawkeye was not home. Some essential part of him was wandering heaven knows where and had left his body behind.
He still joked; he still drank, he still dated. But he rushed his father for the mail delivery at three and jolted when the phone rang. His sense of anticipation was acute. And of all Ben's core beliefs that had perished in Korea, he clutched to one unshakeable insistent faith that he would find Her again. It was as if, except for this obsession, he was hollow.
Who was this woman who had enchanted and exasperated him so? Daniel re-read his son's letters from Korea, and found her name mentioned in various circumstances. Still, none of his words seemed to explain the near mystical connection that existed between them. Sometimes, he wondered if this woman felt the same churning in her bones as his son did. But then, surely she would know where to find him- if she wanted to. So Daniel had come to assume this nurse was merely an unrequited crush, whose emotional impact had upended his son. He did not know there was nothing "merely" about Margaret Houlihan, or their relationship.
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"I cannot do this," BJ stood up abruptly. "I am lying to Peg- to you- to myself. I tell Peg I love her, then ignore her. I pose for you like I am some kind of superhero for fidelity, yet- as you pointed out, here I am. I tell myself this is some meaningless flirtation, harmless kept in bounds, when I know my feelings for you are not harmless, or meaningless. And if I don't step back, right now, I will bring all of us crashing down in a heap. God, Aggie, I am a doctor. I 'm pledged to solve suffering, not cause it."
Aggie, who had been unceremoniously dumped from BJ's lap, was straightening her skirt and sweater. "Maybe we had better call it a night," she suggested quietly.
"Maybe we had better call a halt to it."
"BJ, during the war you couldn't give any of yourself to me. Your honesty hurt but I understood and backed off. But the war is over. You survived. You're free. And maybe now that lifeline you were clinging to has become an anchor to pull you down. I haven't forced you to come to me-you've chosen to spend time here. I never encouraged you to lie to Peg. You were eager to work on this book, eager to return to that time we shared. I know I 'm not the only one in this room feeling the intensity of what is happening between us. Kiss me," she whispered, "skin to skin, and tell me what we feel is meaningless, without power or passion.'
BJ turned his back to her. "I have appreciated the opportunity to work with you," he said with some difficulty, "to help bring some authenticity to your book, to let folks know what is done in their name. But Aggie, if I don't leave right now..."
"Don't leave..." she reached for his hand and when she felt him hesitate, she tenderly turned him back to face her "Kiss me, please," she whispered again. He leaned over her, almost imperceptibly, and she exhaled into his embrace. Her lips tasted of honey and wine.
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"Hawk...?"
"Yeah, Beej..."
"What if you find her?"
"Huh?"
"What if you find Margaret? What are you going to do?" he asked, genuinely concerned.
"Well, I- of course, I'll...well, I 'll find her, and then I'll know. Now stop that!" Hawkeye snapped in irritation. He could see in his mind's eye the wide wacky grin across Hunnicut's face.
"Oh, Hawk…" he could not help but chortle. " You have no idea what you would do if you found her, do you?"
"When, Beej," his pal insisted. " When I find her. Because I will. I've got to," his voice turned serious.
"Wasn't Captain Ahab an obsessed New Englander, too?"
"Margaret is not a white whale," he sniffed. "She happens to be a blonde bombshell. And I am not obsessed; I am stubborn. And if she thinks she can hide from me..."
"Why?"
"Why, what?"
"Why is she hiding from you? From all of us? Did you ever think, Hawk, maybe she has a reason? Maybe...she needed to get away?"
"Of course she needed to get away," he agreed impatiently. " We all did. Away from Korea, the land of the midnight bombing raids; and the lice and the mice and bleeding babies and freezing and the heat stroke and Igor's slop and latrines and ...and all the wonderful accommodations and complications that stalked our lives, and ..- And all that. But not from us, Beej. She couldn't've needed to get away from us...from me. ..." his voice drifted as if he had never, ever anticipated that eventuality. "Surely not...No."
He refused to even consider the notion. "You just wait, Buster. When I find her, I am gonna fly her out west and make you eat your hat. Or my hat. Or I will buy a hat and make you eat it. 'Get away from me'...the very idea..." although now his friend had introduced some doubt into the picture.
Being Hawkeye, he shook it off. "Any way, I have got a ticket to Cleveland on the next flight, and I just had to let you know, y'know? And the fact that you called me just when I was thinking of you, that's a sign, right? That has got to be a sign. I am gonna find her this time, Beej. And when I do-well, - I don't know what then, but I don't have to know that yet. I just know I have got to find her..." BJ could detect that quaver of uncertainty in his voice, that sliver of fear of being thwarted in his desire and he wondered if maybe Margaret had a good reason for avoiding Hawkeye, as well as the rest of them.
"Yknow, I kinda thought the colonel has known all along, they were so close. Margaret had good taste in adopting fathers...of course, Howitzer Al Houlihan was such a bombastic windbag, no wonder she was attracted to a caring guy like the colonel. But he liked me too, Beej, I know it. So if he knew, why would he not tell me? He knows how--ok, let's all say it--how 'crazy' I am to find her. He would tell me, right? Right? Wouldn't the colonel tell me if he knew where Margaret is?"
"Hawk, I hate to interrupt you mid- rant, but I have a ...situation here. Maybe you can give me some of your world -famous worldly advice to a simple married MD who wants to stay that way?"
"Stay simple, or stay an MD?"
"Stay married."
"Not my usual area of expertise…. Our randy reporter looking to score a scoop?"
"I ...I don't know how to handle this, Hawk," BJ admitted miserably. "It started out, I just wanted to help her on this book about MASHes because I really believed it could be important, tell folks why we were there, what happened after the glorious battlefield victories, you know? Then, well, it just got more complicated, the notes and stuff just dragged on., proofreading, fact checking, brainstorming. And Peg is pretty impatient. She knows it's a real opportunity for me, how important a project it has become, but..."
"But, you also said Aggie is still gorgeous and gutsy, and was never shy about declaring what she wanted from a relationship with you--which was, a relationship with you, as I recall."
"Yeah. When you say it, it doesn't sound so complicated. All I have to do is turn and run." He paused. "So why don't I do it? Why don't I turn and run away as fast as I can? Run home, run to Peg?"
"Beej, it has got to be flattering, that a famous and exciting and not to mention again gorgeous woman is pursuing you. Ironic eh? You are being pursued by a woman of your dreams. And I am chasing mine. A woman you don't want and weren't looking for just drops into your lap...and the one I want is fleeing and hiding from me? I got an idea... Wanna exchange problems?"
"And what is the current exchange rate on the market?"
xxxxxxxx
"What would you like for supper?" Peg asked routinely, not expecting an answer anymore as he carried his coffee cup towards the door. He hesitated, and seemed to give the question actual thought.
"Uh...would lamb be too much bother? "
"It doesn't keep too well..."
"Paperwork is all caught up. I plan to be home at a reasonable time." He even leaned over and pecked her cheek. "And I love what you do with rosemary and thyme."
She stifled a quick gulp. "I didn't think you noticed any more..." he heard the tears closing her words back into her throat, and he was ashamed.
"Love ya, Peggy." He really kissed her this time, and tasted toothpaste and coffee and apricot jam and welcome-home on her lips.
xxxxxxx
His plane landed in Cleveland at 10:27 the following morning, but his heart had flown there and landed the moment his private detective reported that he had traced Margaret to that city. Margaret was here. He could feel it. Margaret was here; his senses tingled and he imagined he was walking where she had walked, he was breathing the same air, and he was under the same sky. How long they had lived apart made no difference. Why they had lived apart- what difference could it possibly make now? He had found her, and obviously they would never be apart again.
He had always imagined taking her back and sharing Crabapple Cove with her. But, what the hell, if she liked Cleveland, he could adapt. Or maybe there was a place they would choose together. He was open to...anything. New borders, new horizons, new adventures. With her. God, his arms ached, heavy with longing.
He knew nothing about Cleveland. He hailed a cab and gave the address scribbled on the private investigator's report. He was driven smoothly to a complex of contemporary apartments near Lake Erie. Water was good; he liked living by water. Hawkeye sprang from the cab and over tipped, he was so excited. It took all his will to keep his feet from skipping up the front steps and asking the doorman, "Hi, can Margaret come out and play?"
"Miss Margaret Jeanne Houlihan, please," he requested confidently.
"Pardon, sir?"
"Miss Houlihan (according to the private investigator, she had returned to using her own name), Margaret Jeanne. Major. RA 513-1931. Blood type A positive." Now he was getting nervous. He pulled the report from his pocket, uncreased it, and checked it again.
"I am sorry, Sir. Ms Houlihan, apartment 2553, vacated ...two weeks, maybe ten days ago. Charming tenant, sorry to lose her."
"But she can't...I mean, she can not, not be here." Now it was the doorman who looked perplexed, perhaps a tad concerned at the glare in Piece's eyes.
"May I offer you some water, Sir?"
"What you may offer me, Jeeves, is her forwarding address. Or a place of employment...or a-"
"Are you Doctor Pierce?"
"Yes, yes, that's me, I'm Benjamin Franklin Pierce, I'm a doctor."
"I believe..." he ruffled through some papers on his desk. "Yes, Sir, she left a letter for you."
Pierce snatched it from his hand, taking care not to rip it open, needing to preserve it for clues, or fingerprints, or something. The doorman (whose name was Theodore, not Jeeves) gestured him to a chair in the lobby so he could read the missive.
Dammitt. His hands were trembling again, and the damn doorman had noticed. Who cares? Margaret had been here. He had proof; his Mission was not in vain. But the letter, his name scrawled in her handwriting, mocked him. He stared at it a long, long time.
The doorman had been drawn into the drama. He kept a discreet eye on the stranger while he went about his deskly duties. The man had failed to move, except to sigh, his shoulders slump, and he leaned back into the chair, loosing the tension that had kept him so straight. He still had not opened the letter.
"Sir, may I suggest a cup of tea?" he asked quietly. "We feature a charming and quiet cafe in the east corner of the third floor. Not generally open to the public but if you mention my name..."
Hawkeye gazed up at the man in uniform interrupting his reverie, gauged his eyes and decided he was genuinely concerned, not merely trying to avoid a scene during his shift. "Thank you...Theodore," he glanced at the man's badge. "You have been helpful, and kind. A credit to your service. Yes, I believe I will accept your offer and stroll to the cafe." He tucked the letter inside his coat pocket without much ado, and headed for the elevator.
Theodore made a call from his desk phone. "Livvy, there is a guy on his way up to you...tall, thin, hair is longish, black and gray. ...I don't know exactly but something is really bothering him. Let him have some tea, and if he needs it, a bracer...whatever goes good in tea, brandy, maybe? How should I know? ...Sure, just call if you need to, but I think he's ok, just, unsettled over something, or someone. Be kind, Sweetie..."
Pierce settled himself at a far table, stared out across the gray, foggy lake. A formally dressed young lady approached and set a cup of steaming tea before him. She touched his hand lightly as he reached for his wallet. "Oh, no, Sir. Compliments of the Covington," and then she seemed to melt away.
Hawkeye blew across the surface of the cup to cool it, and took a sip. Man, that was tea like Grandma had never made. He would have to recommend the Covington to all his friends...if he had any in Cleveland. He had postponed it long enough. The letter, or rather, the very thought of the letter, was burning a hole between his heart and his jacket.
Dear Hawkeye, (it began) either I am getting slower in my old age, or you are getting smarter in yours. You nearly caught me this time. (Yes, I have been aware of your pursuit.) I almost wish you had, so we could end this silly charade, yet I could not stay still. Call me a coward, but if I had glimpsed you from my window, heard your voice as you approached my door, opened my life to you again, I could never have mustered the courage to leave you once more. And that is what Life requires. Apart, but never parting...The Kiss proved that, eh? ...I will always love you, and I will always miss you...so please, please just let me go. Grant us both the peace we need
What was that smudged signature? Was it "Always yours, Margaret," or "Always, your Margaret?' Or did it even make a difference?
Hawkeye finished his tea in silence, thanked the hostess on his way out, and wandered into the street. He squinshed his eyes tightly against the blinding sunlight that had burned off the morning fog, reflecting from the elegant skyscrapers. He did not know where he was going, or why he bothered to go any where. He just walked, and instinct drew him to the lakeshore. Squalling terns circled overhead, reminding him of the seagulls darting above him in Crabapple Cove, and suddenly the homesickness stabbed him in the chest like a physical pain. He caught his breath sharply, and had the fleeting fear that he was having a heart attack. Had Margaret's letter actually broken his heart?
He sat down heavily on the side of the beach, leaned against a wooden post, and was alarmed to see his hand shaking again. It had become a trigger to him, and he actively worked to take calming, steady, long breaths He had to pour his heartache out - but to whom? It was Margaret he wanted to cry to, Margaret he wanted to hold him and hush him, and Margaret who was the cause of it all. He had spent years and dollars and prayers searching for her since the end of the war. It was like he was living in a parallel universe: on one hand, he was Hawkeye Pierce, doctor, date-r, all- round good guy, and on the other hand, his heart was engaged in a desperate enterprise to find the woman he had left behind in Korea
So, where did that leave him now? Was he doomed to wander the earth forever looking for his mate? Or was it time to end his pursuit, and settle his soul elsewhere- -in his work, perhaps, in his continuing studies. Other men had channeled their energies into great works for others. Maybe he could make this pain into motivation for - -for what? Other projects held no allure for him. There was nothing else he wanted to do.
Hawkeye sighed heavily, pulled himself up and shook off the sand. There was no solitary opportunity here, and he was concerned that people were beginning to notice him, so he decided to move along. After just a few steps, a young lady made her way over to him, looked directly into his eyes and reached out to him. "May I help you?" she asked, as if it would be her honor. Her kindness lit a glimmer in his eyes that had been absent for too long.
"Maybe you are the only one who can," he answered oddly. Years later, when asked about their first meeting, she would blush when Hawkeye described it as "she picked me up on the beach."
Constance (for it was she) led him to a coffee vendor and a bench, chatting with a voice like sweet silver bells, ordering their coffee black "strong and sweet" she described it, and the vendor nodded as if she had done this before.
"You in the habit of scrounging up lost souls?" he inquired cynically.
"Well, I've found you, so you aren't lost any more," she replied lightly, and her smile set off a sunrise in his heart and he thought for a flash that her words might be true.
"Too many nuts out here, Honey. You need to be more careful."
When Hawkeye finally fell, he fell fast. He owed his rediscovered sense of freedom to two women: Margaret, who had given him permission to live without her, and Constance, who had given him permission to join her world.
She chuckled when he eventually asked her name. "Connie Kelly."
"You say it like a confession. Are you wanted for anything?" he teased.
She lifted her chin and gave him a mischievous smile. "You'll have to decide that for yourself."
He felt his face break into a smile, the muscles straining a bit from lack of use. It felt good; it felt very good. And he felt like he could feel better, the longer he was around Connie Kelly. Her eyes sparkled like polished jade, her short black curls blew one way in the wind, and the other when she shook her head at him and smiled.
Her shiver was his first indication of how much time they had passed together on the bench. It was twilight and chill was blowing in from the lake.
"Uh...are you supposed to be somewhere?" he asked, reluctant to let her go.
She gave him another of her sunrise smiles; she was generous with them. "I am somewhere."
"I mean, you know, somewhere else." With someone else, he assumed.
"Bored with me already? Actually, I'm playing hooky today."
"You're a student?"
She smiled again. "No, I'm a teacher."
"You don't look old enough to be a teacher." And he felt so very old, compared to her.
"Well, I am. Fourth grade, Cleveland Central. But I never show off my credentials on the first date. We have the day off, it's Veteran's Day," she reminded him.
"Oh...yeah..." he did not want to drift back into memory. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to stay in the present, with the bubbly Connie Kelly, and glimpse into the future. His. Hers. Theirs.
Constance. Faithfulness, steadfastness, endurance, unceasing. She seemed like a gift he had been given, the safe harbor that his heart had longed for. Was possible that the elusive peace he had been chasing had been waiting for him all along?
"It's been wonderful meeting you, Dr. Pierce-"
He panicked that her words were the prelude to her departure. He reached out toward her, took her arm lightly, "Please. Please don't respect your elders that much. Call me Ben."
"Well, Ben, you do look younger now than you did when we met."
"It's the lighting; twilight looks good on me. And so do you," he added boldly. "Where do you recommend we have supper? I'm starved and I don't want to risk a slap if I start nibbling on you. "
Hawkeye did not remember calling BJ late that night, but BJ would never forget the convoluted conversation from the Midwest. He heard that his pal had picked up a fourth grader on the beach of Lake Erie and spent the most utterly fantastic, incredible day and night of his life, talking, just talking, mind you, and had cancelled his ticket back to Boston and oh, by the way, Margaret had let him go but it was ok now.
All his dangling on the cusp between commitment and care-free had vanished, as if under a magician's wand. Suddenly what he wanted more than anything in the world was the silly bourgeoisie life he had mocked for years. It was as if he could see things clearly, without the veil of Korea between him and reality.
He had held on to Margaret and the war simultaneously, as if they were the same entity, twisted together, inseparable. Now that he no longer had Margaret haunting him, he had his first entire week of sleep without nightmares. Maybe it was time, he pondered, to put the war to sleep, too.
He thought of Constance. She was touched, the first time he called her that, because no one ever had, not with such longing in his voice. But she granted him exclusive permission to use her full name, and he returned the favor by allowing her to call him Ben. And strangely enough, in no time at all the names were no longer foreign, but familiar and cherished.
His graying mane notwithstanding, it turned out he was only nine years older than she was, that the difference in their ages was more experiential than biological. He saw in her all the hope and sweetness and light that he thought had long abandoned the world, and was astonished and delighted to discover it still existed.
From their introduction on Veteran's Day to their elopement on Thanksgiving was exactly fifteen days, and Hawkeye would always declare it took way too long to get the ring on her (and the clothes off her). And the day the nurse laid his newborn daughter in his trembling arms, his life began.
FiNIS