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Peg Hunnicutt looked down at the face of her sleeping daughter. The traces of tears drying on the round little cheeks were the only sign of what a long process it had been getting Erin to take her nap, and now Peg herself was exhausted. She had looked forward to Erin falling asleep to get to some much-needed housework, but now she was thinking instead maybe she would put her feet up and—

The doorbell rang. Peg's immediate thought was for the baby—if whoever was at the door woke her, Peg was going to break down in tears of her own.

For a moment, it looked touch and go. Erin started at the sound, her eyelids fluttering, but then they closed again and she breathed a long, sweet sigh as she settled fully into sleep.

Peg breathed her own sigh of relief as she made her way downstairs, hurrying a little to make sure whoever it was didn't have the chance to ring the doorbell again.

Opening the door, she smiled at the mailman, a friendly older man who had kids and grandkids of his own. His face was twisted and worried until he saw her smile. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Hunnicutt. Did I wake the baby?"

"No, Mr. Collins, but thank you for being concerned."

"Oh, good. I would have left the package on the porch, but … it's from Korea, and I thought you'd want to know it was here right away."

"From Korea?" Peg reached greedily for the small paper-wrapped package. What had BJ sent? Something for Erin? Something he'd picked up in Seoul or Tokyo because it made him think of her? His letters and packages were her lifeline, her reminder that this life alone with Erin wasn't forever, that they would be a family again soon. Turning the package in her hands, she frowned. "This isn't BJ's handwriting."

"No, I didn't think it was." Mr. Collins' face wrinkled in concern again. "Do you think Dr. Hunnicutt is all right?"

Peg's heart pounded for a moment in fear until she forced herself to think calmly. "I would have heard. Telegraph, or … Colonel Potter, his commanding officer, he would have found a way to call. Still …" She smiled apologetically at the mailman. "I can't wait. Do you have a knife I can borrow?"

"Of course." He produced a pocketknife and carefully slit the paper wrapping.

Unwrapping the package, Peg let the paper fall to the floor as she opened the box. Inside was another box that looked like a tape recording, and a letter in that same unfamiliar writing. She turned the letter over, looking for the signature. "B.F. Pierce. Hawkeye! It's from BJ's friend." She scanned the opening lines of the letter before returning it to its place on top of the tape recording. "He's trying to surprise BJ for our anniversary." Peg didn't know whether to smile or cry.

"Well, now." Mr. Collins' face settled back into the broad smile he was known for. "Isn't that thoughtful."

"Yes. Yes, it is. Thank you, Mr. Collins."

"My pleasure, Mrs. Hunnicutt."

As he turned to go on with his deliveries, she picked up the fallen paper from the porch floor and went back inside. She put the box down on the table in the kitchen and poured herself a cup of coffee before sitting down to read the letter over again more carefully.

Dear Peg,

I hope you don't mind my jumping to first names. After all the stories BJ has told me, how often he talks about you, calling you 'Mrs. Hunnicutt' doesn't seem right.

BJ is fine—as fine as anyone can be over here. And a hell of a surgeon, too. You have a lot to be proud of.

Peg blinked away tears. She knew how much Hawkeye meant to her husband, and how much BJ admired Hawkeye's skills. To see that those emotions were shared touched her deeply; if he had to be there, so far from home and everything familiar, she was glad he had found someone who meant something to him.

A secret part of her was even more glad that he had found a man who meant something, and not a woman. A couple of his letters had worried her. She'd had her own temptations here—how much more must there be over there, working so closely with skilled, talented women, winding down with them after a long day, so far from home? She would have understood, of course she would, if she had to, but she was just as glad, if there ever had been a moment she would have had to understand, not to know.

She went back to the letter, pulling her thoughts away from the dark place they went to if she dwelled on Korea too long.

As you know, your anniversary is coming up; over here, if you want to be on time, you have to start early, and we want to make this a special occasion for BJ and help him get through it. I've never had an anniversary myself, but I know BJ and I know how hard it will be for him to be here without you that day. I can't imagine it will be easy for you, either. If I could make it different, make a way for the two of you to be together, I would.

But I think we found the next best thing. The enclosed tape is a recording we put together of BJ talking about home and the things he loves about being there and being with you. Think of it as your anniversary present, a little early. What we want you to do is to make a home movie we can watch with him on the day, what the day might have been like if you could be together.

Need I say this is a surprise? If we'd asked, he would have told us not to do it. How you put up with that stubborn cheeseball, I'll never know.

Peg chuckled through her tears. Of course he would have. She wondered how they had managed to get him talking about home without him knowing what they were doing, and she could hardly wait to listen to the recording.

In closing … I want to thank you for what you've given up. Without BJ here, a lot of boys wouldn't have lived to go home—and at least one doctor wouldn't have had any sanity to take home with him, if he ever gets to go.

Yours truly,

B.F. Pierce

The "B.F. Pierce" had been scratched out and then rewritten, and "Hawkeye" written below it. Peg had to smile at the idea of the man BJ had told her about so often being so hesitant in the act of signing a letter. It gave her a new perspective on Hawkeye—and made her like him a bit more. She hoped someday she had the chance to meet him.

A cry from upstairs signaled that naptime was over and her time alone was up for the day. Peg looked with a sigh around the messy kitchen, and at the basket full of unfolded laundry that sat next to the ironing board. They would have to wait.

Carefully she put the tape and the letter back in the box and put them away in a cupboard where they would be safe until she had time to listen to the tape. Tomorrow, she thought. Tomorrow morning, while Erin played, they would listen to her daddy's voice.