November 2, 1957
Bloomington

My dearest Jeanie,

Please forgive me. I know it's another letter for you to read and ponder! But I had to write to you. Millions of words cannot convey what I mean. I beg you, be patient.

When Hawkeye called me a few nights ago from some bar where you were staying, I thought it was some joke. His voice initiated the impression. At first, he sounded like he normally did – quite mad and upside down. He talked utter nonsense, to the point where I was laughing. Then, I realized that he was serious. His tone changed and he began to talk irrationally. I heard things like gunshots and glass.

I told him to stop and start all over again. Hawkeye was not to hide anything from me. When he slowed down and listened to me, he decided to tell me everything. He began from the beginning, from when you both landed in Portland, and moved into the intimate details of your marriage and how life had been like for you in Crabapple Cove. He recounted how elated he was at the birth of each child, but always recalled his fright of squeezing them too tightly. He laughed every time you smiled and danced and giggled over the silliest jokes.

There was so much love and warmth in his voice. He did not sound as selfish as he initially did. There was a husband who had eyes for his wife and her alone. There was a father who adored his children so much that he could not leave them.

It was a pretty picture. Jeanie Pierce was a woman, a wife and a mother. She tended to patients in the house. She cared for her children. The house was spotless and dinner was delicious. Items were mended and tears were dried. She was a constant companion.

To be honest, Jeanie, I could not believe my ears, hearing the words of this egotistical man. There was so much that conspired in four short years after your return from Korea that I honestly thought that the little girl from Bloomington was still there somewhere, hiding behind someone. This person Hawkeye spoke of was not you, I promised myself. He painted this portrait of struggle and triumph that the angry child I knew could not have jumped over with ease. It was not my Jeanie Morrison.

Oh, I know that most of your life in Maine is optimistic. You told me yourself. You spoke to me of the diminutive parentless Shannon, who is now the best big sister; your catty neighbor, Mrs. Pettigrew, who was cruel and turned into a friend; the town of Crabapple Cove that gazed at you like a circus freak and now respects you; becoming a nurse when it was needed the most.

Hawkeye told me of the bad too. He said that he had been unusually cruel to you. This person who bothered him…he drove Hawkeye insane and sought to make the both of you utterly unfit to be parents and in society. This man was jealous of your husband, even before the war, and attempted to find any way possible to discredit him. After his tour in Korea, it was found and at a great price to everyone involved. Even a friend was deeply indebted to this scoundrel!

With everything else on his mind (and don't even talk about Korea!), Hawkeye said that he did not think. He drank heavily and ignored everyone. He said some nasty things to you, his father and your babies. He did not come home for days sometimes. He could not cope with it.

My poor girl! I don't understand how you could have handled all of this and hardly told a soul. I don't think Hawkeye cognized it either.

Yet, you kept it all together for him. You made him a home. You created another job for him (and for you too!). You passed your nursing exams with flying colors. You kept your temper and your counsel. I could not be prouder of you than I am now.

Then, something hit home. It shattered any goodness I had. Hawkeye addressed a harsh something I never thought I'd speak of again. He told me about Clarence. He said that Jeremy sent you boxes of film and photos without checking the contents. They were of the numerous women that Clarence violated.

Hawkeye told me that he has been helping you burn them all. At first, you hid it from him. You and your father-in-law took bits and pieces and put the dead to rest. Yours was going to be the last to put to the fire. The plan was perfect until Hawkeye and your other friends accidentally discovered it. Seeing you so vulnerable, frightened, vile and ireful was enough to send all three of them in a spiral.

This story disturbed me more than your letters about being in Korea. Oh, Jeanie! It was so horrible! And Hawkeye asked questions about it that I could not answer. All of it had to do with what Henry and I were doing when all of this happened.

What did we know about Clarence and Rebeccah? Why didn't we save you when we got wind of the issues? Why wasn't someone of authority told? Why wasn't Dean withdrawn from the military academy? Why did Rebeccah decide to make you the whore and Clarence the bereaved father figure? What made Jeanie Morrison run to the Army?

I did not have time to address each inquiry. It was like one shot after another. When I began to stutter at each attempt, he'd spring something else on me. It was accusatory and rude all at once and I could not blame him.

Calmly, finally, I told him. I will tell you the truth, Jeanie. To be fair, we did not know anything until that horrible night you were at our house. Henry was focused on telling you to reach out for help when it was needed. I was guilty and did not know what to say. We could have gone to the police. We could have taken you into our custody. Henry and I were married and there would not have been a problem. Besides, you were over often enough, when Rebeccah was not herding you indoors to sew and clean.

I know you were upset with us. I could not blame you! You were so young and angry then. There was determination in those eyes of yours. You looked so much like your father, it scared me. You did not trust anyone. You had your own pathway you were going to make and nobody was going to stop you.

I have to be truthful, my daughter. After that night, Clarence threatened me. He told me that he planned to have the names of all of the women who were caught and arrested at the lesbian bars published in the local newspaper and that I was going to be one of them if I did not keep quiet. You know that I am not a lesbian. Clarence did not care. He wanted to cover his tracks.

This will have meant the end of everything. Henry will lose his career. We will be harassed and thrown out of town. Our future children will be heckled. I had to give you up.

Jeanie, even though you had your mind made up to leave, you do not understand how this has hurt me. Please forgive me. I have not been able to help you when I should have and been brave through the storm. I could have saved you. We could have left Bloomington and you would not have joined the Army and endured all of those troubles. Dean might also still be alive. I would have pulled him from the academy.

But now, I see it might have been a mistake for you personally. You have risen above your troubles. I know it's been difficult. You've lied, cheated and beaten it all away. You held Rebeccah at a hand's length away and never backed down (even though your stories to her were funny). You went through a horrific war and never blinked an eyelash. I am so proud of you, Jeanie. You are truly a gift.

Today, you are happy. You are free and you are home. I cannot hope for anything else for you. Now that I see what has happened, I can focus more on Molly, Janie and Andrew more. I love you, now and always. You will always have a special place in my heart because you are one of mine.

Your mother, Lorraine

I skimmed through the letter from Lorraine, reading it silently over and over again as I laid in bed. I could not believe what I read. I took a deep breath and exhaled. She, my mother so far away, had been holding onto so much for me and confessed her guilt to me. She finally knew what had conspired here and was so sorry I was alone in the journey, even though I did not care who was beside me.

She still loved me. Despite all of the wrong done, Lorraine saw that I had some worth after all. That was enough. Now, more than ever before, I needed that validation. I love her so much more for it. That reminder told me that I was still not alone.

Putting the papers down on the nightstand next to me, I glanced around our lodgings, grateful that the children were sleeping or in school and that all was calmer. Since Cochran had entered into our home, we had been staying with Eddie in the back rooms of his bar with him. It was going to take some weeks before the house was cleaned up and the investigation from the local police and the MPs was completed. We have not been there since except for Hawkeye. He always went to grab some clothes and grab a toy or book a child wanted.

I was also appreciative that Dad was recovering. Thankfully, Cochran's bullet only grazed his shoulder. He was in out and Portland Hospital the same day and back to his part time work within the week. He too was curled in these close quarters with us, holding into the remaining three children tightly in his slumber.

I decided that it was time for me to get up. I put Lorraine's sweet letter away in a drawer and exited. I walked down the hallway and entered into the restaurant. Already, breakfast was in full swing and the place was humming. Waitresses twirled left and right and Eddie was yelling at his cooks to hurry up with the eggs and bacon. Newspapers flapped and old men with antiquated political and social views announced their assessment of the world. The crisp autumn air seeped in whenever a customer dropped in and out. All and all, it was a normal November morning at Eddie's.

I found myself a seat without others in it and flipped through the menu. It was mindless and a courtesy, to be honest. I did not feel hungry. I did not want to infringe on Eddie's hospitality much. He insisted that we all have free meals and drinks and not to worry about paying him. I was prideful and did not wish to ruin his business.

A young waitress came by with a cup of coffee. "Anything else, Mrs. Pierce?" she asked me.

"No," I replied. I took the cup, filled with cream alone, and added sugar. "I think coffee is just fine for now. Thank you."

The dear left me, answering a call at another table. For a few precious moments, I was alone. It was wonderful. Everyone knew that we were bunking here until our house was cleaned out. They were anxious to still talk to us. Now that I was no longer on private property, I was subject to everyone's questions and advice. It was nerve-wracking.

I waited until someone came forth. I was surprised when Chuck and Paulie almost immediately sat with me. When anyone came near, they waved them away. Jake was nowhere in sight.

We made some small talk for about an hour and I mentioned the letter from Lorraine. I don't know why I did except that I felt that I had to tell someone how good I felt about the words. Chuck and Paulie thought I was one amazing woman for having so kind of a mother. They did not realize that she was a surrogate and not my actual mother. Nobody knew that Mom died a few years ago.

When the breakfast crowds began to disperse, we felt a sense of relief. Eddie decided to close up for a couple of hours for a clean-up, since today saw a record amount of people and a pile of dishes he could not get done in seconds for the brunch and lunch customers. He was relieving the breakfast cooks and readying the next crew before tackling his chore. He did not mind us sitting there still and told us we could stay.

It left us alone at last. This meant that we could talk without anyone listening in. Paulie began, leaning in. I almost could not hear him.

"Have you heard from Jake?" Paulie asked me gently.

"I have not," I confirmed. "He does not normally come to me."

"He hasn't stopped in for his usual nightly beers either," Chuck added. "Can you talk with him, Jeanie? Or can Hawkeye try? We haven't been able to find him and he won't speak to us anyway. What are we going to tell him? That we miss him? Jake will shake his head and think we're silly women."

To be honest, I was taken aback at the suggestion. I was softer towards Jake, but I did not know if I could talk to him, with all the anger I still had inside. I had done enough for him, hunting down his daughter with the CIA's help. That was a gift enough to him.

I was stuttering my answer. "I don't know where to begin," I admitted, stumbling over my words. "I don't think he'd talk with me after what happened."

Chuck and Paulie grew silent. They knew what happened. Crabapple Cove was not known for much secrecy anyway, especially with our neighbors. It all began with a nosy housewife with an eyeglass and her talks others around town. Mrs. Bretton was an infamous gossipmonger and soon had the whole town with Jake's name on their tongues. People spoke of killing the culprit and sought to find him. Nobody cared if Jake had nothing to do with the Desoto trying to hit us or the gunshots. All they understood was that he was part of a plot to hurt us. When children are involved, Crabapple Cove grew vicious.

Only Dad was able to convince everyone not to find Jake and lynch him. Luckily, they mostly listened and stopped the madness from spreading further, but everyone (Mr. Bretton and the sheriff most of all) grumbled about it. Besides that, none of the aggressors had a clue where Jake lived. He was a hermit.

"Does anyone know where he lives?" Chuck mentioned casually as I thought the same thing.

"Up in the hills?" Paulie suggested. "The woods? The creek? The wetlands? Out in the ocean on a boat?"

"Who knows?" I sipped on my coffee. "There are so many places to check."

Hawkeye, back from Portland, soon joined us. "Jake is up in the woods," he said quietly. He too had coffee and gulped some of it down. "He isn't coming down anytime soon."

"What? Why?" I was confused. "I can understand with all of the commotion. It does not mean he cannot show his face."

"He is like the colored man." Chuck put two and two together quickly. "People think he supposedly is a bad man. They make up all sorts of things about him and make all the fun vices illegal because they associated it with dancing with the devil."

The description took my breath away. Chuck had reminded me of the divide in this country. Growing up, I understood that I was not go near any colored neighborhoods. In the Army, it was the same until I was transferred to Korea. Then, it was an honor to serve in a mixed community. Now, I was amongst the hatred of people again. Knowing that Jake might be compared to the colored person horrified me. I had to fix it.

"I hope he's ok," I said worriedly.

"I am sure he is." Paulie waved his hand dismissively. "Jake has survived worse. Knowing him, he has enough supplies to keep him alive and content for months to come."

It was then that the men started a conversation about what made them happy. A good woman, booze and more were worked around their mouths in a disgusting manner. Even Hawkeye was having a hearty laugh at my expense. He patted my legs heavily and his fingers kept reaching for the inside of my dress. Even though he treated me equally, I did not appreciate being talked about like a breeding mare. I had to walk away.

I returned to the back room and checked on Dad, Annabeth, Patrick and Danielle. They were fine. Dad had the twins playing a game with a ball and Annabeth was sitting quietly in a corner with her Dick and Jane book. Dad smiled to see me and continued to roll the toy to the twins.

"Any plans for today?" he asked me.

"I was thinking we take a trip," I announced. "We can bring the children with us and pick Shannon up at school later."

Dad quit the game and slowly stood up. "Where to?"

"Do you know where Jake lives?"

"I do. So does Hawkeye. Why? Do you want to see him?"

"Yes, I do. I think we need to mend some fences."

Hearing that comparison earlier, I was determined. A town should not hate its own. Chuck and Paulie missed their friend. Things were not the same at Eddie's Bar without Jake. Not to mention, I too had to move on. It was not Jake's fault that he did this horrible deed. He was desperate to find his daughter and did not know where to turn to. Cochran was a powerful man and manipulated him.

Dad shook his head and laughed. "Jeanie, you're funny. Jake isn't going to come out for you. He doesn't come out for anyone."

"We have to try," I begged. "If we don't, then he can forgive himself. We have to show that we are willing to move on."

Dad considered this for a moment. "Let me go first. If he does not want to talk to you, this will be the end of it."

I nodded in agreement. I took Dad's place with the twins and he left in the Packard. I don't know if Hawkeye went with him or not (I doubted it somehow since conversations with Chuck and Paulie were interesting). The hours ticked by. By lunchtime, I had to feed the children. I took them into the restaurant and sat with Chuck, Paulie and Hawkeye. Despite their youth, Eddie served them lobster salad and iced tea. He insisted that I eat a plate too.

I was more concerned about the children. "I don't know if they'll like it," I insisted.

"Being born in Maine, you have to," Eddie replied with a wink. "You need to eat too, Jeanie. You haven't been."

The argument was worthless to battle. Hawkeye, Chuck and Paulie were on Eddie's side. With hesitation, I took a plate from the tray too. The table went quiet as everyone ate. Annabeth and the twins had no trouble with their food. Hawkeye and I alternated between our food and helping Danielle and Patrick spoon the lobster into their mouths. Annabeth polished her plate in minutes and asked for more.

Around us, the crowds for lunch grew. Talks turned to what was on the news and what the town was up to. Chuck and Paulie still kept bodies away as they noted the changes in Vietnam. When we finished, we thanked the pair and stole away to the back rooms. Hawkeye suggested we take a walk on the beach before it grew too cold. I didn't want to, but thought the air will be good for everyone.

We prepared for a cold day out and were soon almost being carried away by the wind. It had picked up some since this morning. Annabeth, Patrick and Danielle did not care. They all laughed and ran against the strong force. Their little legs could hardly hold up as they picked up sand and played.

Hawkeye and I walked arm-in-arm and watched them in amusement. Our conversation dragged onto how we were returning home after Thanksgiving, the ongoing investigation and how Greg was such a help in the week he stayed. Then, I told him about Jake and where Dad had gone to, since he was curious about his whereabouts. Hawkeye had to think about this for a few minutes. I didn't think he'd be upset with me about sticking my toe out into the water.

And he wasn't. "Jake won't see you," Hawkeye declared. "At this point, he is a prisoner of war. Trapped in the woods and with nowhere to go except to surrender to the enemy."

"But it'll mean he'll die," I protested.

"Unless we are compassionate," Hawkeye reminded me.

We almost did not hear Dad in the distance behind us. We stopped and waited for him to catch up. From what I saw, it was good news. He was smiling.

"Jake won't mind you both visiting him," he announced in surprise.

I shared his feelings. "When can we go? Will he see us now?"

"As soon as you can," Dad clarified. He pointed to the three ahead of him. "I will take over from here. You two get out of here. Jake might change his mind."

Hawkeye and I did not need to be told twice. Love took the Packard keys from Dad and we were off. All the while, we fought about who was going to drive.