Margaret stood perfectly still, her head raised high in defiance of the many pairs of eyes curiously watching her with disapproval. She heard Andy cough subtly and she found him seated back in the booth. Frankly, she was shocked to see him calmly pouring over the menu while finishing off his cup of coffee. Margaret straightened her back, with as much poise as she could muster, and seated herself across from her handsome acquaintance.
"Do you need more time to decide?" he asked with a charming grin, motioning to her unopened menu.
"I'll have whatever you're having." She muttered, still fuming over Hawkeye's sneering remarks.
"You have a mind of your own," he countered. "Use it."
Margaret was so involved with her silent diatribes she completely missed the man's attractive, teasing smile. "What's that supposed to mean?" she hissed at him.
He reached a hand across the table to join with hers. "Forget about him, Margaret." He chuckled lightly. "He's not going to change so stop demanding that he does."
"I'm not demanding anything."
"Not vocally." He smiled and tapped her menu with his index finger. "Name your poison. I'd avoid anything with meat, vegetables, or fruit."
"Why don't you care that I hate him? Aren't you his friend?"
Andy laughed at the question and tried to avoid it.
"Answer me." she demanded.
"Hawkeye and I are friends, yes." He paused, trying to figure out which version of the truth would anger Margaret the least. "But we have a sort of understanding when it comes to women." He winced as Margaret's face stiffened. "Besides," he quickly amended. "I don't think you really hate him. If you did there might be a problem."
"I do hate him."
"No you don't. You're here, aren't you?" Andy chuckled and shook his head. "Actions even speak louder than shouting matches."
"Now understand one thing," she snapped harshly. "I am not here to see Doctor Pierce. Nor will I ever seek out his company."
"Then why are you here, Margaret?" his tone was quiet but it carried a significant air of curiosity.
"I really don't think I want to eat here." She started to stand up but Andy caught her with his apologetic words. He was intelligent enough to realize that physical restraint would never work with Margaret no matter how slight she appeared.
"No more questions, I promise." His enchanting smile brought Margaret back to her seat—well almost to her seat. She leaned over the man, hovering her lips slightly over his.
"I really don't want to eat here," she whispered with a laugh. She started to straighten her body but Andy threw his hand around her neck, pulling her soft lips to his.
After a satisfying evening with Elvira, Hawkeye slowly ambled home. A cool, ocean breeze was floating inland through the pine trees. He inhaled deeply. There wasn't a smell on earth that could compare to the mix of salt, sand, and evergreens. This part of town was significantly older than the area where he had met with Margaret and Andy for lunch. That main section of Crabapple Town was constantly being renovated, all the storeowners doing their best to attract the tourists that would begin flowing into town in another week or so for the annual Lobster Festival.
The quiet neighborhood that Hawkeye now meandered through had been built just after the turn of the century. Generally, the houses were all built with the same clapboard siding and split-cedar shingled roofs. After a good rain the scent of the wet wood traveled through the air in a delightful mix with the typical smell of the ocean.
Even though Hawkeye should have been content with how his evening had progressed, the angry insults he and Margaret and hurled at one another left him troubled. She insisted she hadn't come to see him and yet there she was in the town he had called home for all of his life. She knew he lived there—he had talked about it enough in Korea. And she hadn't looked surprised when he found them at the beach—only annoyed.
He recalled the look of anger that had simmered clearly in Margaret's eyes. He had unwittingly stuck a very deep nerve with his lewd remark. He had expected a sneer, not the torrent of furry that had been channeled in his direction. Why--?
Hawkeye abruptly broke off this futile train of thought and cut through his lawn, headed for the back door of his home. The old house rose with significant stature against the evergreen forest in back. It wasn't a beach front property, but a short walk through the neighbor's lawn, and down the rocky cliffs brought you to the narrow strip of beach and the turbulent waves that constantly crashed against the enormous rocks.
The sound of crashing waves was soon interrupted by the shrill ringing of the telephone. Hawkeye cursed as he struggled to open the kitchen door—it often stuck do to the humidity that hung in the air. With a final heave he crashed into the house and headed for the phone. Hawkeye assumed correctly that Daniel would still be at the office, filling out a stack of never ending paperwork. He cursed loudly as his foot jammed against the table leg.
"He growled into the telephone receiver. "Whoever this is, it had better be more important than my left foot."
"Your right foot, maybe." Came the light-hearted response. "But I doubt it was worth your left foot—sorry."
Hawkeye's countenance cheered instantly. "BJ! I didn't think you'd come out of your suburban paradise long enough to give me a call!"
The Californian gave a soft, slow chuckle and paused—trying to form his words. "Yeah well---did you ever read Paradise Lost?"
Hawkeye grasped the inference and frowned. "What's going on, Beej?"
"Everything is just a mess. I—well—stupid—rash—a good deal of whiskey involved." The man didn't seem capable of a coherent thought.
"Sounds like your paradise went down in a blaze of glory."
"More like a blaze of idiocy."
"So are you going to tell me what happened?"
"I cheated on my wife."
Hawkeye took in the information and found himself feeling annoyed with his sandy-haired friend. Oh how the mighty do fall… Hawkeye checked his train of thought. "Is she kicking you out?"
"No." BJ sounded depressed and tired. "We're trying to work things out. She thinks we need a break for a week or so, though."
Hawkeye rolled his eyes. "Meaning, she wants to get away from you for a week or two so she can try and deal with how you betrayed her." The words came out harsher than he intended.
"Ouch."
"Sorry."
There was a long silence between the two friends until BJ cleared his throat nervously. "How does a visit with your favorite swamp rat sound?"
Hawkeye suddenly remembered that Margaret was in town. He was about to tell his friend as much, when a gnawing sensation in his stomach stopped him. "Yeah!" he offered half-heartedly. "I've got a friend in town right now but we could work something out." Hawkeye wasn't certain why he was refusing his best friend. Why did something feel so wrong?
"So was the girl anyone Peg knew?" he asked suddenly.
"Not exactly." The man answered evasively. "She knew of her, I guess."
"An old friend of yours?"
"Since you've got company I guess we'll have wreak havoc on your town some other time."
""Yeah," Hawkeye realized exactly why the conversation was coming to a close so quickly—BJ was refusing to tell Hawkeye the identity of his temporary lover. "I guess I'll be hearing from you."
"Yeah." There was another awkward pause and then Hawkeye heard a soft click followed by a dial tone.
The uneasy feeling in his stomach remained as he walked to the icebox and pulled out a bottle of beer. The timing was just too eerily close to be a coincidence.
