Charles showed up at half-past eleven. He apologized for being late. They made more coffee and put him on door duty so the family could get dressed.
"Is that an apple crumble on the stove? Where are the forks? Mah-gret, just leave it to me. I'll accept the cavalcade of baked goods and chow-dah as you people call it," he smirked.
"He really hasn't changed much," Margaret whispered on the stairs.
"Less hair, more pounds," said Hawkeye, taking her hand. "It is nice to have him here, though."
Friends. After the war, it didn't seem like anyone could understand how it felt to come back to a country that didn't feel like the same one you left. Hawkeye spent twenty dollars on a nice radio right before he left and came home to a chunk of outdated plastic. The cars were all different, the fashions changed and all the appliances looked like fighter planes.
Hawkeye called BJ, but he was dealing with his own issues. Potter was still the same but busy on the farm. So was Radar. Margaret hadn't shown up yet. One night, he called Charles and to his relief and surprise they talked for an hour about nothing and everything. Then Charles married a Texan. Then she got pregnant and left him soon after Charles Emerson Winchester the Fourth was born, the same young man who palled around with Ben and eyed Ellie.
A knock came. They listened to the exchange at the door. "Oh, dear me, CHOW-dah. How kind. Of course I'll tell them to butter the bowls. Not doing that would just be silly." You could nearly hear him rolling his eyes.
Some laughter floated out of Ellie's room. "Whatta piece of work," they heard her mumble.
Old habits never die. Hawkeye always loved watching Margaret undress. She cited this as proof he was still a pervert. It wasn't like he hit on other women. He just loved her, plain and simple.
"Remember your Geisha girl dress? The one you wore for Halloween in Korea?" he asked, lying back on the bed. Margaret had her back to him and was pulling up her hose. "That was nice."
"Yeah. You felt me up that night…I remember that."
"So I did. You didn't put up much of a fight."
She turned around. He was expecting anger but saw something else in her eyes. "I never would have, you know," she said softly. "Not then."
He blushed, remembering sliding his hand up her thigh in the Officer's Club. At the very least he expected a stern rebuke, at most a slap. Instead she covered his hand with hers. Then they danced until neither could stand up straight any longer. He wasn't scared of war anymore at that point. He was tired and worn and ragged and on the edge of terrible.
"Had I known that I would have been in your tent more often," he winked. She threw her nightgown at him half-heartedly. Toward the end he spent quite a bit of time ravishing the body of his favorite Major. He counted on feeling her heartbeat, just to remind him he was still alive, that they were both among the living and not the ghosts.
Now here she was, Margaret Pierce, wearing a somber black dress and her pearls, pinning up her hair. Down the hall, Ben's stereo cranked up and Ellie was on the phone, jabbering away and the floors shook with every bass note from Vanilla Fudge. Charles gabbed with someone on the porch.
Hawkeye shrugged into his funeral suit, noting it was growing a little tight around the middle. He didn't dress up much, just a sweater to the office and a flannel around the house. The exception was the lectures. The last death in the community was the undertaker himself, a solemn and strange man all the kids ran away from. Daniel said he didn't blame them, the guy sniffed too much embalming fluid to ever make any sense. The suit fit better then. Hawkeye eyed a snapshot of himself and Ben hiking and made a mental note to rack up some miles in the spring.
"Well, do I look okay?" Margaret asked, turning around in front of him.
"Honey, if we weren't headed to a funeral you'd be in big trouble. I wouldn't let you out of this room for a week."
"Perrr-vert," she said in a sing-song voice, but with a smile. "I'm going to go kick the kids into gear."
She stomped down the hall, leaving Hawkeye to finish dressing alone. He put on his father's cufflinks. They were the only thing he'd taken from the house so far. They were a Christmas present from son to father, when Hawkeye was about 11. Daniel always wore them for the holidays, even though they were tacky little sterling silver playing cards.
Hawkeye looked at them closely, feeling the passage of time. He came back from Korea to find his father an old man, made old by years and worry about an only son taken away and thrust into a sort of hell. The cufflinks stayed the same. From his childhood, to med school, Korea, Margaret and the kids and now this loss. The tears were close to the surface, but broken by the sound of his children arguing over the bathroom, because some things never change.
Hawkeye managed a small smile. The door slammed. Argument over.
At 12:15 they were all lined up and ready to go. If there was a sedate side of the Pierce family, this was it. Ben was wearing his suit with his own lightning bolt cufflinks and purple tie. Ellie and Margaret were wearing their black dresses. Margaret's hair was up, Ellie's was down and Ellie was wearing a pukka shell necklace that could have only come from Florida.
"Let's hope the snow holds off," said Charles, shaking on his overcoat. "I put all the food in your refrigerator, save for some of the cookies a Misses Buckley made. I had to try them. Apple pie cookies. Just what will little old ladies think of next?"
"Ah, the food brigade," said Hawkeye, swinging open the front door. They clomped out and loaded the wagon for the half-mile ride to the church. Other cars honked and flashed their lights.
The church was packed. Dusty light from the stained glass filtered to the front pew where the family sat, patiently waiting for the service to begin. Margaret folded the program, trying not to look at the coffin. Ellie and Ben just looked around, giving half-hearted waves to friends and accepting hugs and kisses from the congregation.
Hawkeye couldn't move. He didn't know how he'd make it through, even with his loved ones at hand and Charles directly behind him. He held Margaret's hand and reached for Ellie's, thinking of how close he came to losing her, too.
Then the service finally began.