June 1958
Hawkeye had a very good feeling about James Dixon as soon as the young man stepped into his office. There was something about the way he carried himself, with obvious confidence but not arrogance. Hawkeye was halfway sold on the guy even before he extended his hand and announced, "Dr. James Dixon, sir, it's nice to meet you."
The kid won him over completely during the half-hour interview. Dixon was two years out of med school and was currently working at a family practice near Dover, New Hampshire, but was looking to move back to his native Maine to be closer to his folks (Ten bonus points, Hawkeye thought, for the strong family ties). He was chatty but not overly so, and he laughed at Hawkeye's wisecracks (Twenty bonus points).
By the time they were done talking business, Hawkeye knew he didn't need to look any further. He reached across the desk and shook Dixon's hand again. "The job's yours if you want it, James."
The kid beamed. "Please call me Jim. And yes, sir, I do. Thank you."
Jim quickly learned Hawkeye's routine, preferences and idiosyncrasies, and the patients loved him. Hawkeye felt the stress of having to single-handedly run the practice melt away. The young doctor was a godsend.
One steamy night in July, Hawkeye's ex-wife, Kate, called him from out of the blue to announce she was getting remarried. "Crabapple Cove's a tiny town," she said, as if he didn't know. "I thought I'd better tell you before somebody else did."
Hawkeye made the appropriate happy noises and said "Congratulations" at least five times. The conversation was cordial and brief. When he hung up the phone, he realized his palms were sweaty, and without thinking, he left the house and drove to Dempsey's bar.
He ordered a Scotch but ended up only taking one sip before deciding he didn't want it, and most definitely didn't need it. He sat there a little longer, his eyes traveling around the bar. It was a sparse crowd tonight, but he recognized quite a few of the patrons—five patients of his, a man he ran into often at the movie theater, and a woman who worked as a teller at his bank. Plenty of acquaintances, but for some reason, he didn't feel like talking to any of them.
Hawkeye paid the bartender and left, and as he was driving home on dark, deserted, winding back roads, he couldn't figure out why Kate's news was having this effect on him. He didn't love her, and probably never really had, so the fact that she was moving on with her life shouldn't bother him.
He felt adrift, though, and confused. Everyone around him had a life, while he only had an existence. He was losing his dad to a progressive disease, his closest friends were not local, and his dates were merely distractions. His eyes teared up as he drove home, and he couldn't imagine feeling more alone than he did at that moment.
His mouth on autopilot, he mumbled, "If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew, To serve your turn long after they are gone, And so hold on when there is nothing in you, Except the will which says to them, 'Hold on.'" He let out a startled laugh when he realized what he was quoting. "Rudyard Kipling."
As soon as he got back to his house, he picked up the phone. "My partner can handle the practice on his own for a week," he told B.J. "Is it all right if I come out there and visit?"
And of course B.J. gave an enthusiastic, emphatic "Yes!" Hawkeye could hear him yelling to Erin with the news, and she squealed in the background, and Hawkeye knew instantly that he was doing the right thing.
He booked his flight for the weekend.