"Margaret!" Colonel Potter walked towards her happily. "How are you doing?"
"I'm fine Colonel, thank you." She said as she hugged him; purposely making sure Donald noticed the gesture."
"It's Sherman now." He corrected her, still smiling broadly. "Come meet the Missus."
Margaret followed him and was introduced to his wife. They chatted for a while but Margaret's mind was a million miles away. She had reached her boiling point with Donald. She didn't think she could take it anymore. Watching Bridget with Hawkeye and BJ left her with a sick feeling in her stomach. Her daughter needed a real man around. Not a father…a daddy. Margaret had stayed with Donald for so long, telling herself it was for Bridget's sake. That Bridget needed her father. Margaret wished with her entire being that she could have opened her eyes and see how unhappy her little girl had been. Margaret never had anyone to Compare Donald to as a father; certainly not her own.
Margaret went through the day in a trance. She tried her hardest to snap out of it but she couldn't make herself join in on the fun. After dinner that evening Donald was in heated discussion with Klinger. Margaret didn't care to find out what that was about. She walked towards the lake and sat down, staring over the moonlit water. A soft drizzle began to sprinkle over her shoulders.
"Hey Margaret," It was BJ.
"Hey yourself," she replied flatly. Much to her annoyance he sat down beside her. "Look BJ I'm not really in the mood for chatting. I don't want to seem…"
"I was talking to Bridget this morning." He interrupted. "She told me her birthday was March 24th. That's 1954 right?" Margaret nodded. "Was she born early?" Margaret shook her head.
"She was born within a week of the due date."
"Ah I see." He paused and sighed. "Margaret, I'm pretty good at math. I can count backwards nine months." Margaret stiffened considerably. "Nine months before March 24th would be around July 24th 1953 right?" She only nodded, still staring out over the water. "On July 24th 1953 we were all in the Officer's Club playing poker. Margaret you were still…"
"Shut up BJ!" She screamed as she jumped up. He looked hurt and tried to follow her.
"I'm sorry Margaret I just wanted to…"
"I don't care what you were trying to do. You're going to keep your mouth shut about this!" She didn't say it as a question, but a command.
"What's going on?" Margaret groaned inwardly when she heard Donald's voice.
"Stop it Donald!" Margaret screamed. After Donald had approached her earlier when she was with BJ he took her back to their cabin. This is where they had been at for the past half hour. "Why are you so controlling?"
"Why do have such a problem with that? You're my wife!" He yelled back at her. "Now why won't you tell me what you were talking about?"
"It was personal Donald! Can't I have any private thoughts?"
"They weren't private; you were sharing them with that man!
Margaret was about ready to explode. "That man happens to be a very close friend!"
Donald sneered at her. "But not as close as Hawkeye am I right?" She slapped him, hard. As she realized what she did terror sank in and she quickly backed away from him. But she didn't move fast enough. She fell backward as his fist slammed into her eye.
"Don't you ever disrespect me like that again!" He yelled. "You're my wife and you will show me respect!"
"Respect is a thing you earn." I shot back. My nerve was building again. He had already hit me; what more could he do?
"And you're an expert on gaining respect? May I remind you of when you came crawling back to me with that child? A child that was the result of you sleeping with any man who suited your fancy! You don't gain respect by being a slut!"
"Get out!" She screamed. "Get out of here! I never want to see your face again!" What he said hurt…really hurt. Mostly because she knew it was true. Donald grabbed a suitcase and threw several items of clothing into it and crashed out of the cabin. Margaret picked herself up off the floor and collapsed onto the bed letting her sobs overtake her until she fell asleep.
Hawkeye eyes jerked open as he heard a crash. What was it? He sat up in bed and listened; all he could hear was the rain pounding on the roof. There it was again. No it wasn't a crash. Someone was banging loudly on the back door. He jumped out of bed and ran downstairs, pulling his thread-bare robe on as he went. As he approached the door he could hear someone calling his name. He threw open the door and he saw Bridget sobbing on the steps. He pulled her inside.
"Bridget what's wrong?" The little girl was hysterical and she kept saying something about her parents fighting. Hawkeye led her into the living room and wrapped a warm blanket around her. She was still sobbing and Hawkeye realized how wet she was.
"I'm going to get you some dry clothes" He stood up but she frantically grabbed onto him. He sighed and picked her up. She was a small child so it wasn't very difficult, only awkward. When he reached the top of the stairs he walked to the end of the hall and entered the spare bedroom. He sat Bridget down on the bed and walked to the closet. He opened it and pulled a cardboard box down. He sat it on the bed and pulled off the lid. He dug around for a moment before pulling out a woman's nightgown.
"Put this on sweetheart." He turned his back while she slipped off her wet dress and pulled on the nightgown. Her sobs had lessened but she was still crying. He picked her up again and took her downstairs. He sat her on the couch while he lit a fire. He then joined her on the couch and pulled her close.
"Now suppose you tell me what's wrong." He suggested. Bridget didn't reply, she only laid her head on his chest and closed her eyes. He stroked her back for a while until her breathing became steady and he knew she had fallen asleep. Hawkeye pulled a blanket off the back of the couch to cover them and reached behind him to turn off the light. He stayed that way for hours. Gently stroking the little girl's hair and watching the flames spark in the fireplace until his eyelids drooped shut.
