It's dark when Margaret wakes, the light from the moon illuminating the room gently from behind the curtains. The springs in the old bed creak and groan as she leans over to the bedside table to find her watch. By the muted light she can just make out the time: 3.10am. Her body showing signs of confusion at being rudely ripped out one time zone and dumped into another. She lays back and stares at the shadows on the ceiling. It's still surreal that she's in Maine in the home of Hawkeye Pierce, and even moreso that he is not. She's glad she chose this, glad that she didn't follow her normal instincts of trying to strike out on her own. Daniel Pierce is such a kind and gentle man and, considering the circumstances, she doesn't think she could have done any better.
Margaret pulls back the covers, her feet making contact with the cool, wooden floor as she gets out of bed. She puts on her robe, pulling tightly around herself against the night air.
She's restless and a little dizzy. She doesn't know how much of that is jet lag, or what being pregnant might be doing to her body at this early stage. It still doesn't feel real.
She quietly pads out of her room and into the carpeted hallway and peers into what must be Hawkeye's room.
It's eerily still and quiet for a room that belongs to someone so full of life. Dusty medical textbooks sit on his bedside table, a dirty magazine sticking out from between them. She snorts in amusement. Typical. The rest of the room is plain but functional. A desk and a shelf of barely organised books. She sits down on the edge of his bed and stares out of his window. The moon is almost full, reflecting brightly across the ocean.
She wonders how he's doing, whether they're in the O.R up to their elbows in guts, what the new head nurse is like, whether she's as good as her.
She misses him. She misses them all, she misses feeling like she's part of something, that she's serving a greater good.
She misses him. She doesn't dare dwell on that thought, instead getting up and silently heading downstairs. She needed a drink.
She's startled by a voice at the bottom of the stairs.
"Are you okay, my dear?"
Margaret jumps, her hand flying to her heart.
"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you. I heard you moving about up there and was wondering if everything was alright."
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you."
"It's quite alright, I'm a light sleeper. Shall I make us a cup of tea?"
"Oh, I don't want to make you tired as well."
"Nonsense. I'm just happy to have someone to share my house with again. It's been mighty lonely since Hawk left for Korea. Come sit yourself down in the living room and I'll put the kettle on. There's a blanket on the arm of the sofa if you're cold."
Margaret wanders into the living room slightly dazedly and sits down on a well worn leather sofa, shivering at the contact with the cool surface. She hesitates before pulling the woollen blanket across her lap.
Her father would never do any of this. None of it. He'd never be this warm and caring with his own child, let alone someone else's. She briefly allows herself to wonder what her life would have been like with a father like Daniel Pierce. Unrecognisable.
She loves her father, she's spent her whole life trying to earn his approval, but there's no way he's going to be warm and accepting about the situation she's found herself in. The army is his life, and the day she told him it would also be hers was the closest to proud she's ever seen him.
"Here we are, sweetheart."
Daniel comes back into the room carrying a tray with a pot of tea on it and some cinnamon toast.
"I thought you might be hungry, too."
"Thank you, that's very kind of you."
"Like I said, no trouble. I'm just happy to have some company around this old place. It's just been Hawk and myself since my wife died, and then the army came knocking." Daniel places the tray on the coffee table and then sits down on a chair opposite Margaret.
Margaret had never fully considered what it must feel like to have your only family sent to war. "What happened to your wife, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Cancer. Poor Hawkeye was only ten at the time."
"Oh my, that's awful."
"It was. But enough about us, how are you holding up?"
"Oh I'm fine, I think."
Daniel smiles at her, "You think?"
"Other than being wide awake at this hour, I'm a little dizzy and nauseous, but I presume that's the jetlag."
"Sounds to me like you're experiencing some of the symptoms of early pregnancy."
Margaret stares at him blankly for a long moment before responding. "It still doesn't feel real."
"That's understandable. It must have been quite the shock."
"Ha, that's an understatement. I mean, I'd always assumed I'd have children, but not like this. Especially not with Pierce. Hawkeye." she corrects herself.
Daniel chuckles, "I was under the impression that you two didn't exactly get along."
"We don't. We didn't. I don't know what we do anymore." Margaret looks away, uncomfortable. "I always thought I'd marry a West Pointer, army brass. Someone to make my dad proud. I haven't told him about this, yet, I don't dare." When she looks back at Daniel her eyes are filled with tears. She whispers, "He's going to be so disappointed in me."
Daniel watches her, eyes filled with concern. "My dear, I've only known you for a very short time, but you strike me as a marvellously bright, competent woman, and Hawk mentioned several times even in his very early letters what a talented and dedicated nurse you are. If your father chooses to let what's happened colour his view of a daughter he should be brimming with pride for, then it's possible he doesn't deserve a daughter like you."
"I worshipped him. Ever since I was a little girl I looked up to him, I wanted nothing more than to make him happy. But then I-I lost control," she gulps, choking on her tears, "I spent the night, one night, with an army hating, rule-breaking, authority challenging, incredibly talented draftee doctor- someone who I'm not even supposed to like, and yet...and yet here I am." Margaret gesticulates in frustration.
"Well, I know it's not quite the same, but no matter what happens, you're always welcome here."
"Thank you."
Daniel gets up from his seat. "Now, where's that tea. I'd almost forgotten about it. Here, have some toast before it gets too cold."
Later when Margaret's safely back in bed Daniel takes some time to ruminate. He's pleasantly surprised by how much he likes her already. From his son's descriptions he thought she'd be harder, more severe, far more defensive. He certainly hadn't expected her to open up like she had. Intentional or not, he was finding it hard to be displeased by the way things were turning out. A grandchild. It was still too early in the pregnancy to count his chickens on that front, but Daniel was finding hard to wipe the smile from his face. Before the war he'd been wondering if Hawkeye would ever find a woman who he couldn't charm into submission, and here was one such woman. Their relationship didn't seem to be clearly or comfortably defined, but Daniel was unable to squash the small ray of hope he had that these two would work things out.