"Of course, Frank. I'm sorry. What is it?"
When Frank reached into his pocket, Margaret gasped in anticipation. But instead of lowering himself to one knee, he handed her a carefully folded piece of paper in a soft shade of pink. It was a sharp contrast to his personality. When she realized that it wasn't what she had hoped, her heart sank to the tent floor with a thud.
"What's this?"
"Open it!"
Curious, she unfolded it, taking note of his scratchy handwriting. "What is this?" She asked again.
Frank rocked back and forth on his heels and grinned. "My home address and phone number."
She looked up, completely baffled. "I-I don't understand."
He clutched her hands in his. "I don't ever want to lose you, Margaret, and this way, should we become separated-you know, after the war, we can find each other again."
Her heart sank even further, deep into the Korean soil beneath her tent. This was not at all what she'd been expecting.
"I love you, Margret." Frank continued. "And you love me, right?"
"Of course, Frank. Always." Although she'd often questioned her love for him, the words were spoken with sincerity. She did love him, even though he drove her completely mad.
"Then there's no reason why we can't reconnect after the war, is there?"
Her spirits rose. "We will be together after the war, won't we, Frank?"
"Of course, Pumpkin."
Margaret swallowed hard, prepared to ask the question she never dared to ask before. "But what about… her?"
"Who? Louise?"
Anger flared inside of her. "Frank, I told you NEVER to mention that woman's name in my presence! Yes, Frank, HER!"
"What about Lou-."
"Well, I mean what if I were to call and she answered the phone? What am I supposed to do then?"
"Don't worry about it! L-my wife doesn't suspect anything! Besides, everything will be fine!"
"Like heck it will!"
"All right, how about this? We can write each other!"
The thought was appealing. She did love his letters. After all, she'd kept everything he'd ever written to her. Again her heart melted when she thought about the beautiful words he'd written to her in the form of notes, cards and poems; words that were forever in her heart.
"You'll really write to me, Frank? Really?"
"Of course, Margaret. Now kiss me. I've got to go. I was due in surgery twenty five minutes ago!"
She was too enamored to yell at him for being so irresponsible, but she knew that Colonel Potter would make up for it.
When she kissed Frank and they said goodbye, she completely forgot why she was so annoyed with him.