September 10, 1957
Crabapple Cove, Maine

Sidney has left and, with it, five doctors scrambling to reach Bathe. Dad has taken the others there. They don't come back until late at night, but when they do, it's full of knowledge and laughter. Some nights are spent on the front porch, all of them in a drunken slumber in the morning. Even Charles has lightened up a bit.

With each passing year, I've noticed that we all have become more comfortable in our skins. Charles seems to have taken it better than most. After the initial year, he's almost back to normal. However, I know there are times when he cannot be what he was. I don't think Charles has even mentioned music or has played it since the last days of the war.

All and all though, everything is so peaceful. Hawkeye has not been so attentive to me and the children, but has been civil. He does what he is supposed to do, like thank me for dinner, saying good night in bed or shoving me out when the alarm goes off. I heard all of the jokes from him to last me a lifetime. I endured passionless kisses, useless embraces and lame invitations to come to bed. Nothing changed yet, but I am hopeful.

But I've been keeping myself busy with other people. It's not that I cannot be alone. It's that I am trying to tighten the circle. To reach out means sanity. I cannot let that circle go.

TC has been driving up here more often with her sons and even came for a surprise visit three days ago. She has been reteaching me how to drive and without Clarence hanging over my shoulder. She talks over coffee and plays the matchmaker. She even rips open the old wounds and makes them scars because there was so much she wanted to tell me.

Margaret is still calling (she contacted me an hour ago even!). She has having so much fun with little Henry and tries to get him on the telephone more times than I can count. All she can talk about is how happy she is and I could no be gladder. It was like Donald and Keith's ex-wife disappeared from her radar. She even talked to me about building that business relationship with Keith.

Kellye reached out to me yesterday. Her last art show went so well in Hawaii that it is being taken on the road. She is taking her landscapes to the States. Her first stop is in San Francisco. BJ promised to her shelter, food and love…as well as showing up for her art show. Then, she will work her way eastward. The closest she'll be to us is Boston, in June of next year. I promised her that we'd be there.

Lastly, I received a letter from Radar…well, he calls himself Walter now, after some time with his mother. I can't call him that though. It sounds ridiculous really. But anyway, he told me that he is having problems with his mother. All they do is argue. She can't understand why he won't take her in and she has stay with her aunt. They also disagree on him taking on another wife, where they are living and recovering what is left of the farm. He asked for advice that I cannot give. I had to put the letter away for now.

Otherwise, it's been quiet without Shannon here too. She started first grade this year. From the beginning of her schooling outside of the house, her teachers are noticing that she is severely intelligent, artistic, mouthy and impulsive. I can't tell how many times I've been called to pick her up because she punched some boy that picked on her or she decided to talk back to her teachers. It's exasperating.

Annabeth is going to follow her sister next year and the twins will be in Kindergarten in the new decade. I have never felt so anxious before. Save for the time in Korea, I've had all of the children with me. I've disciplined them, raised them and taught them. I still don't know how I feel about someone else teaching my children. Oh, Shannon's instructors have been wonderful. They are judgmental and strict, but that comes with the territory, I suppose.

I know that the school is wary. They dealt with Hawkeye as a child. While impressed with the work and effort, they are not kind towards deviant behavior. I cannot stop them from beating Shannon and then sending her home. I just wish I could do more, but I cannot help but be proud of who my children are becoming. I do not feel that I am lacking.

But to have my children out of my hands is tough. I miss Shannon so much. Does any other mother feel this way? Am I just an over exhausted parent who does not rein in her emotions? I hate to say that Mom was right and that I am impulsive, wild and weepy.

I just heard the front door open. It sounds like Hawkeye and the others are home early. I am going to see what they need.

~00~

It was a quiet day until everyone returned. The arrival of the doctors meant that they were going to be fermenting in the basement for a few hours before dinner. Since Hawkeye reinstalled the still there, it has been his source of all sorts of mayhem. BJ, Sherman, Charles and Hawkeye immediately went to the oasis and were drunk before long. I left them in their misery and focused on the children.

By the time dinner was served and the five men were a bit sobered up, Hawkeye suggested a fire on the beach. It was a cold night, but it was dry and the risk was low for rampage. Everyone agreed, even me. It was not just the warmth and togetherness the time gave to us. This will give me the chance to burn more pictures. Hawkeye usually had me start it anyway and he would not be able to tell the difference.

After the meal had ended, I cleared off the table and washed the dishes. When everyone was not looking, I went to the basement. I grabbed a random box. It was the second of four that Jeremy sent before he died and it was almost empty. I contemplated bunching them together with other papers, but declined. The box was a good fire-starter and would be the perfect cover.

The flap of the box dared to move to one side as I put it on the floor. I had to find the kindling that Dad stored. But my eyes roamed back to those pictures. With it so open, it was easy to see who was next for the pyre. It was a girl I knew in Bloomington.

It didn't matter what her name was. I could not remember anyway. I recalled her as a popular classmate and an associate of mine, when Lorraine didn't homeschool me. She and her family went to the same church Mom and Clarence did. They often came over to the house for dinners. Clarence was a mentor at the church and always coached this classmate of mine.

Before I left for the Army, we all heard that she had died. All that anyone in town knew was that she was taken out in an ambulance stretcher and never seen again. Nobody had any details and the police didn't release any report. The hospital wasn't cooperating either, claiming the family requested privacy. It added fuel to the gossip.

There was an obituary for her. Mom read it to me from the newspaper, tears streaming down her checks in some feign concern. The poor girl supposedly died of a childhood illness. With no word from the police of medical personnel, rumors around Bloomington told tales of horror, scandal and love. But the truth was harder to swallow.

She had committed suicide. A gunshot wound to the head proved it. Everyone saw the bandages that covered most of the face during the open-casket funeral and never spoke of it again. Her parents were trying to hide it so that she could be buried in consecrated ground. If the church had ensured this refusal, it would have devastated the parents.

And now, these pictures proved to me that Clarence was the reason for her despair. I should have known. When he and Mom locked me in my room long after dinner, they talked with this family. Clarence took the girl on walks alone. She'd reappear with him and never looked anyone in the eye. His arm around her shoulders told the rest of the story.

I had to forget what I saw. Quickly, I found the other papers that needed to be burned and placed them on top of the pictures. I piled some kindling on the now-closed flaps and carried the bundle upstairs. I rushed across the house to the back door, grabbing the matches on my way. I was able to head outside when BJ stopped me.

"Hey, what's the rush?" he asked with a laugh. "We have enough time."

"The children need to go to bed soon," I reminded him. "Shannon has school in the morning."

"Oh, right! I keep forgetting." He paused. "Say, do you need any help? I can carry that for you." He pointed at the box and the items on top.

I hugged it tighter. "I've got it, thank you."

Before BJ said anything else, I practically bolted in the opposite direction. The cold air hit me so hard that I almost toppled. But I plowed through, right to the middle of the beach. Dad had dug a hole and we lined it up with bricks. I dumped the contents in there and tossed some leftover wood from the side. Before anyone could see, I lit the pile and waited.

The pictures of that lost girl flickered and then faded to black. The flames licked at them and devoured them like eager carnivores, spreading its ashes to the wind. Just as the group assembled outside, children and adults alike, the wood was already ablaze. The evidence of any abused people had vanished. All that was left were us, enjoying the heat on a late summer night.

Hawkeye drew closer to me and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I curled right into his side. It was so comforting that I lost myself in the embrace.

Dad mentioned something about the conference and the others began talking. Then, they moved to other topics, like the recent advisers being sent to Vietnam. Afterward, I stopped listening because I didn't want to believe in war again. I don't recall what else we all talked about, but I did remember Dad passing out some beer. I sipped on the bottle slowly and stared into the flames.

Sometime later, Dad had to remind me to put the children to bed. I gave Hawkeye my bottle and executed the chore without complaint from the sleepy companions. When I finished, BJ and Hawkeye were putting the fire out. Everyone else had come back into the kitchen and were chatting, beers still in hand. I contemplated joining them, but declined. I cleaned around them before Hawkeye caught me by the arm and handed my beer back.

"What was in that box you took outside?" he asked me. He held on tightly.

Suddenly, I was put on the spot. Everyone's eyes were now on me. I was cornered. Right then and there, I thought that someone saw the pictures or Dad whispered the secret to a curious ear. I was trapped into telling Hawkeye everything, from the day the first package came to my thoughts about that girl I went to school with. But the truth slipped out as easily as its lie.

"They're some old papers," I said defensively. "Dad asked me to have them burned."

"She's right," Hawkeye," Dad interjected. "It's nothing important. I just didn't want them around the house anymore."

Hawkeye released me. "There seems to be a lot of them and they came from your brother."

"Dad is using the boxes for storage," I argued. I downed the last of my beer and put the empty bottle on the counter. "Jeremy didn't send me anything important. They're just old pictures. I put them away."

My older brother's name felt heavy on my tongue. His death was a sore spot still. I may not have spent my life near him, but the few instances sheered itself in my heart and mind. There were the good and the bad. He was dear to me too.

Other subjects took over Hawkeye's attention. BJ reminded him that the conference was early tomorrow morning and that they had to get some shuteye. Charles piped in about the bed issue, since BJ and Sherman took over the coveted positions (Sidney left the vacancy and BJ hopped right on in, enraging Charles). From there, an argument ensured between the trio. Hawkeye had to instigate and followed along. Eventually, the group gathered upstairs.

Dad met my eyes. "That was close."

"How long can we keep up with this?" I asked him pathetically. "There are so many of them to get rid of. I feel like I am deceiving him by not saying anything."

"You told him the truth," Dad reminded me. "It wasn't specific."

I nodded. "Maybe you're right. I'll be more careful in the future. Hawkeye cannot know."

Dad approached and hugged me tightly. "No, he can't. I don't think I needed to either." He paused. "I don't know how you managed to escape it, Jeanie. Whatever you did, I cannot imagine. It must have been hell. There was no right way."

"No, there wasn't," I confirmed. I held him tightly. "It is like another war. Instead, you are battling for the dignity in your life. Afterward, you need to find it again. It usually isn't there, but it is. It's just hidden."

~00~

I believe in the Kingdom come.
Then, all the color will bleed
Into one, bleed into one.
But yes, I'm still running.

You broke the bonds
And you loosened chains,
Carried the cross of my shame,
Of my shame, you know I believe it.

But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for.
But I still haven't found
What I'm looking for.

The next morning, the medical conference ended unexpectedly. The main attractions decided that the crowds were too small and the funds coming in were too little. They cancelled the rest of the presenters and decided to move it to New York City. It infuriated the attendants, but it also meant Charles and BJ were staying with us for a little longer. Sherman decided to go home to his wife.

We were all in the driveway when he announced this. Dad, Hawkeye, Sherman, Charles and BJ had just gotten back and were lingering near the Packard as they talked. I was intrigued. I joined them for a few minutes.

"You can't be too careful," he said, winking. "Besides, I've been away from Mildred long enough."

"Tell me, Sherman, what were you going to do if this shing ding was not cancelled?" Charles asked him.

"I could always keep calling her, like I have been," he replied to Charles. He wrung his hands together. "Maybe, one of these days, the future will bring us a way to see each other, almost like a television."

"That sounds too science fiction to me," BJ said.

"It could be our future," Hawkeye added. "What else could go wrong? Another trip to Area 51?"

I said my greetings and went back inside to clean. When they graced the doorway, Sherman was guiding the herd upstairs and was packing up. The men followed him, trying to persuade him to stay. I knew better. With Mildred so frail and far away, Sherman was not going to leave her for long periods of time. Margaret was not going to let him.

When they returned to the living room, a taxi had already been called and was on its way. It was almost like a movie, with a plot steeped in scheme and an ending nobody expected. Sherman only had to wait a few minutes before saying his goodbyes. He kissed the children and me and told us to take care. Then, we all waited with him on the front porch for his ride.

To be honest, it was the quickest farewell I've ever experienced. It was like Sherman wanted more than anything else to leave, despite the love he held for us. I couldn't blame him. Like him, I wished for nothing more than to remain close to my spouse and to care for him. Any opportunity that arose to be near them, we'd take it.

After his departure, it was a quiet sort of group. Dad, Hawkeye, BJ and Charles shuffled around the front porch, asking each other what they can do now. Charles was not interested in driving back to Boston. BJ's flight was a week and a half away and he didn't want to change his travel plans. Hawkeye suggested drinking, but nobody was interested. I put out that a walk on the beach was always a good idea.

Everyone agreed except for Dad, who opted to stay indoors. The children raced each other to the back porch. The twins were too small to compete with Annabeth. BJ and Hawkeye scooped them up and carried them. When they were released to the sand with their sister, they were off.

Charles and Hawkeye were soon ahead of me and BJ. They were mocking each other in true blue blood style while watching the three. I don't know how it began, but before anyone knew it, Hawkeye was imitating a nasally upper crust man. Charles parleyed and jabbed at the number of children we had in so short of a period of time.

"You know, I've always wanted four children," Hawkeye mentioned jokingly.

"Yes, of course," Charles replied, rolling his eyes. "I just cannot believe there are four of them like you and Camilla. Dear Lord, what will the world do?"

BJ remained at my right side. "'Our fatigue is often caused not by work, but by worry, frustration and resentment.'"

I volleyed, "Half of the world is composed of people who have something to say and can't, and the other half who have nothing to say and keep on saying it.'"

"Talk to me, Jeanie. What is going on?"

"'Blessed is the man who, having nothing to say, abstains from giving wordy evidence of the fact.'"

"There isn't gossip. This is your marriage I am talking about here. It's a serious thing."

"'Everything has its wonders, even darkness and silence, and I learn, whatever state I may be in, therein to be content.'"

"Stop quoting at me, Jeanie."

BJ was serious and angry and he almost caught the others' attention. I willed my tongue to stop spitting out literature and inspiration. I pursed my lips tighter together. It was one thing to do this jokingly. I was hiding what I was feeling and telling him there was nothing he could do about it.

"I think you already know," I said bitterly. "It's all the dirty laundry you all like airing."

"Because nobody wants this beautiful thing to end," BJ countered. "You both found each other because of the war. You both fell in love because of the war. And you both had children because of the war. If war was your common ground, then peacetime will be tougher. You both worked too hard to throw the years away."

"I still haven't found everything I've been looking for," I admitted quietly. "I am happy though. I want him to feel the same way. I can't get him to see that."

"He does and he doesn't," BJ replied. "I know he finds you attractive still. I don't think I've heard enough talk about a woman in one car ride."

I laughed. "Really? It never feels that way."

"Because he's comfortable with us. He couldn't be that way with you because all he does is worry about you. Hawkeye doesn't feel he should talk to you about what's been bothering him. He finds it…might make you feel like you're burdened."

"I might have been, but it should not excuse him for being an asshole."

"I agree. He hasn't learned to control his temper."

For a moment, we stayed quiet. Charles and Hawkeye were far ahead of us and were circling back with the children. BJ and I had slowed down enough that we were too conspicuous. Obviously, we were part of some conspiracy and Hawkeye yelled it out.

BJ grabbed and held me. "Why, good Sir, I dare not touch your wife! Even if I knew she was yours, I'd still ravish her with the love from afar."

Before long, everyone was laughing. Hawkeye decided to "defend the honor" of his fair wife and battle for my body back. Before we knew it, Hawkeye, BJ and I were all rolling around on the sand like fools, arguing over my supposed uprightness. The neighbors were watching and the children were interested. It was an emotional outburst that was no longer needed, but also quite the entertainment for others.

Out of breath from laughing, Hawkeye helped me up. BJ stumbled right into Charles' hesitating arms. Before we knew it, we were in stitches again except for Charles. He was the one who suggested that we go inside and play a game of poker. I had to pick up Shannon from school anyway and decided to leave the other children at home.

Shaking the sand off, Hawkeye and I walked arm-in-arm for most of the trek back. Once we drew closer to our property line, he let go. He decided to have the children race back to the house with him. And off they went! Like shots from a gun, all four of them – an adult and three children – had the time of their lives and whirled against the September wind.

Charles did not care for races and walked far behind me, tired. BJ was itching to join the others, but for some reason, decided to stick behind me. Before long, I heard him talking to Charles about something. When I turned around to see what was going on, they stopped. Their guilty faces said it all.

They were talking about us.

Eventually, BJ caught up with me and passed. Before he did though, he told me, "Silence is an answer too."

Following lyrics are from the U2 song "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For". A Happy Easter to all and a blessed Passover too!