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Summer in Crabapple Cove was as beautiful as Hawkeye Pierce remembered.
Six months ago, he was watching South Korea retreat from the airplane window. Now, he sat at the kitchen table in the house he shared with his father on the edge of Crabapple Cove, nursing his daily cup of coffee.
His father Daniel puttered by the sink, watching the sunrise from the window. Since his return, Hawkeye had noticed Daniel’s reluctance to leave his son alone for long. While he appreciated his father’s concern, Hawkeye wanted to prove he was fine. Better than fine, really. He wasn’t in South Korea anymore, and that alone made him feel as if the weight of the world no longer rested on his shoulders.
Daniel rubbed his five o’clock shadow as he cleared his throat. “You got your appointment today?”
Hawkeye looked up from the newspaper he had been skimming. Sidney Freedman had stayed in touch with Hawkeye and recommended a therapist in the next town who would continue to work with him as he transitioned to civilian life.
“Not ‘til tomorrow.” He hated the appointments, but they were helping, so he forced himself to go every two weeks like Sidney had recommended. Hawkeye folded the newspaper shut. “I’ll cover the clinic today. There aren’t many people coming in anyway.”
As he had said that last night in Korea, Hawkeye had returned to Crabapple Cove and after a month of rest, he went to work alongside Daniel at the family medical clinic. It was a slow adjustment. No meatball surgery. But by the third week, Hawkeye could breathe easier. He didn’t tense up every time a young man walked in the door. In his recent letter, Sidney commended Hawkeye for getting back into medicine. Some days, Hawkeye wondered if it was such a good idea, but most of the time he didn’t regret his decision. He knew it pleased his father that he was sticking close to home. He wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, Crabapple Cove was home, and he was happy to keep it that way.
Daniel and Hawkeye’s heads both turned towards the backdoor when they heard tires on the gravel driveway. Their house was at the edge of town, and they didn’t have frequent visitors, unless it was a medical emergency. The men exchanged matching concerned looks. Hawkeye got up.
“Maybe it’s Danny Masterson. He popped in late yesterday concerned about his son’s fever,” Hawkeye suggested.
If someone could have taken a photo of the shock on Hawkeye’s face when he saw none other than Margaret Houlihan step out of the bright red convertible in his driveway, it would have been a snapshot worth a million dollars. Especially to the 4077 M*A*S*H crew.
Margaret was even more beautiful than when Hawkeye last saw her six months ago. Her blonde hair was loose and went past her shoulders now, which suited her. Long gone was the army green of Korea; she still wore slacks, but these ones were black. Her blue blouse had the sleeves rolled up past her elbows and as she brushed a loose curl away from her face, Hawkeye’s heart seized in his chest.
“Hi, Hawkeye,” she said from beside the car.
No witty reply at the ready. Hawkeye swallowed. “Margaret.”
Her smile widened. “You look well.”
He glanced down at his clinic uniform: a Hawaiian shirt and jeans. He remembered how she hated this shirt in Korea. Not very army regulation, according to Major Houlihan. He returned her smile. “So do you. What are you doing here? I thought you were up New York City leading the charge against staph infections and soiled sheets?”
Margaret shrugged. “I had some vacation time to use up. Thought I’d take a road trip.”
He bowed his head. “I’m honoured to have made your itinerary.”
Before he could say more, Daniel came outside, the backdoor slamming shut behind him. The older Pierce took one look at his son and Margaret, and his face lit up.
“Now, don’t tell me. I know this one. You’re Major Margaret Houlihan, am I right?”
Margaret grinned. “And you’re Daniel Pierce. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Likewise.” Daniel glanced at his son. “Well, aren’t you going to invite her in for coffee?”
Hawkeye blushed. This was why he had never brought girls home as a teenager. “Dad, I’m sure she can’t stay long.”
“I don’t have any plans. I was going to spend a few days in Maine,” Margaret said. “Coffee sounds lovely.”
Daniel clapped a hand on Hawkeye’s shoulder. “I’ll cover the clinic. And I’ll stop by the grocer on the way home. We’re having steak for supper!”
“Supper?” Hawkeye exclaimed. How had they gone from coffee to supper in seconds?
“Oh, I don’t want to put you out, Mr. Pierce.”
Daniel headed down the few steps and stopped in front of Margaret. “Nonsense, we’ve been looking for an excuse to turn on the barbecue this week. Now there’ll be one more person to enjoy it!” He took Margaret’s hand in between his and squeezed. “I’m so glad to meet you, Margaret. You remind me a lot of your father from that party way back when.”
Before Margaret could reply, Daniel released her hand and looked back over at Hawkeye. “Bring her things into the guest room upstairs, Hawkeye. And open the window. It needs airing out.” Then like that, he hopped in his navy-blue Toyota truck and drove off to the clinic on Main Street, Crabapple Cove.
Hawkeye and Margaret stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing. It was minutes before the two could contain themselves long enough for Margaret to join Hawkeye on the porch. Being this close to her, Hawkeye’s hands shook. He shoved them in his pants’ pockets before she noticed.
“So, coffee?” he said, clearing his throat.
“No cream or sugar.”
It wasn’t long before the two were back on the porch, black coffee for Margaret and green tea for Hawkeye. Margaret sat on the porch swing while Hawkeye took the old rocking chair his father usually sat in. They sat there in silence for a moment, letting their drinks warm their hands.
“I can see why you love it here,” Margaret said, breaking the silence. “As I drove through town, it reminded me of a postcard scene.”
Hawkeye smirked. “You must have missed old Mrs. Granger and her nudist gardening. I’d love to see that on a postcard.”
Margaret rolled her eyes. She sipped her coffee, her eyes closed. “I don’t think coffee has ever tasted as good as it has since we got back from Korea.” She looked at the teabag. “I didn’t take you for a tea person, Pierce.”
Hawkeye dunked the bag in once, twice, three times before deciding to tell her the truth. He hadn’t lied to Margaret in Korea, not about anything important anyway, and he didn’t want to start now. That, and his therapist wouldn’t be pleased if he confessed later.
“I can’t have coffee after breakfast. It makes the insomnia worse,” he said.
Margaret lowered her cup, resting it on her thigh. “Trouble sleeping?”
Hawkeye wrapped the tea bag string around the handle of his mug. “Kicked in as soon as I got back. Poor Dad, I’d either wake him up screaming from nightmares or keep him up with my pacing.” He took a sip of tea. “It’s getting better, though. Dr. Fellman and I are working on it.”
Sympathy shone in Margaret’s eyes. He was relieved it wasn’t pity. Hawkeye couldn’t stand pity. “I’m glad you’re seeing someone. I go to a support group once a month.”
“For veterans?”
Margaret nodded. “You’d be surprised how many M*A*S*H members attend. We did good work there, but it left its mark.”
“A bruise is more like it,” Hawkeye muttered. He took a long drink of his tea. How desperately he wanted to spike it with vodka. But that was another vice he gave up when he returned. “So, what really brought you here? Did BJ say something?”
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “I told you, I’m on vacation. I haven’t even spoken to BJ since I got back. I sent a letter, but I think I wrote his address wrong.”
Hawkeye ignored the stab of guilt at assuming BJ and Margaret were gossiping about him. “I’ll give it to you. He’d love to hear from you.”
“Is there something BJ should have told me?”
Hawkeye sighed as he avoided her gaze. “Don’t worry Margaret, I still have all my marbles. All the ones I came back with, at least.” Sometimes, he wondered if he hadn’t left too much of himself behind in Korea.
“I know it’s hard, Hawkeye. Some days, it feels like I’m still there. I thought adjusting would be easier, but these last six months, nothing is as easy as it seems. Not even at work. Being a civilian nurse is harder than I thought it would be, after all that we went through.”
Hawkeye met her concerned stare and swallowed thickly. “I wish I could forget. Just have someone open my skull and take those memories out of my brain. Forget everything about that horrible place.”
Margaret nodded. “The only good thing that came out of all that was the people. Potter, BJ, the nurses, even Charles,” she said with a chuckle. “You,” she added, biting her bottom lip.
“You all were the only reason I survived,” Hawkeye said, his chest tightening as he thought of his friends. He looked away from Margaret and finished his tea. “Speaking of BJ, I’m going to see him in a few weeks.”
“That’s wonderful! How is he?”
Hawkeye smiled. “Great. Peg just had their son, so that’s why I’m going down. BJ originally wanted to come here, but we’re planning for next year instead. It’ll be fun taking the two kids to my old fishing hole.”
Margaret got up, coffee mug forgotten. “Ah yes, the infamous fishing hole. Perhaps you could show it to me? I don’t think a Maine trip would be complete without it.”
“I didn’t take you for a fisherwoman, Major.”
“I’ll have you know I bagged a trout when I was thirteen that was as long as your arm.”
Hawkeye laughed but got up all the same. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do on such a beautiful day. They put Margaret’s bag upstairs, following Daniel Pierce’s instructions about the window. Hawkeye grabbed the tacklebox and two rods from the mud room then the two headed out of town towards the fishing hole, their footsteps kicking up dust on the dirt road.
Along the way, they caught each other up on the people they still stayed in touch with from their unit. Margaret mainly kept up with the nurses, but she had exchanged a few letters with Charles, which surprised Hawkeye. He had assumed the good Winchester would forget about them as soon as he got back to Boston.
“Actually, he’s much more tolerable through letters,” Margaret said with a smirk. “The condescending tone isn’t nearly as obvious.”
Frank Burns had even reached out, but only once, thank the Lord. Margaret suspected he wrote the letter at the office so his wife wouldn’t see. She considered replying, but instead shredded it and threw it out.
“I don’t regret what happened in Korea, but there was never a future for us. It just took him longer to realize that.”
Hawkeye was happy to update Margaret on Radar’s success as a farmer. It had taken time, but he was getting the hang of it, and now he was engaged. Hawkeye had already RSVPed to the wedding after this year’s harvest season was over.
Sherman Potter was enjoying retirement more than he initially thought. Hawkeye and his father had been invited to spend a weekend with them in August, which they happily accepted.
Max Klinger and his wife had found her family and made it back to his hometown, her parents and brother in tow. According to his latest letter, they were expecting their first child in winter.
They were almost at the fishing spot when Hawkeye told her about the letter he had sent to Henry Blake’s widow.
“She remarried six months after he died.” Hawkeye couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. “She thanked me for the letter but asked that I not contact her again. She and the kids were moving on with their lives.” He shook his head. “As if the war is so easy to forget.”
“I can’t imagine what it’s been like for her,” Margaret said with a sigh. “She has a right to be happy, though. We all do.”
They reached the fishing spot and soon their poles were in the ground, the lines bobbing in the cool water, as they sat under a nearby oak tree. The shade was a welcome reprieve from the scorching sun. Hawkeye stared at the rippling pond, his shoulders relaxing. Nature always helped when his thoughts were racing.
“And you, Margaret? Are you happy?”
The question surprised even him. Since when did he have a right to ask about her happiness? She could be engaged for all he knew. It wasn’t as if they left Korea with any agreements in place. That last kiss, though. Oh, it still played in his mind. Sometimes, when the insomnia was bad, he would think about all the amazing things she was doing with her life, and his hopes for her were so great, they temporarily made him forget how terrified he was of waking up back in Korea.
Margaret raised one leg up and rested her arm against the bent knee. “I’m getting there. I love my job, but as Potter said, I need to have a happy life, too. It’s not all about work.” She glanced at him. “What about you?”
Hawkeye bit back the first pithy joke that came to mind. He swallowed the second one, too. He took a deep breath and kept his eyes focused on the water. “Do you know what I do when I can’t sleep? Besides keep my old man awake? I write. I’ve filled pages and pages and pages with random thoughts. Some awful, some beautiful, some I can’t make sense of the next day. I think I’ve filled six journals since I got back. And do you know what I do with them once they’re filled? I burn them. It is the most releasing, comforting feeling in the world to watch those pages turn to ashes.”
He forced himself to look over at Margaret. “The only pages I’ve saved have been ones about you. All the mischief I made for you over there. The things I didn’t say. The things I did say but regretted. I’ve even written you letters, but I chickened out and never sent them. I’m sorry about that. I should have sent one, at least.” He shook his head. “So to answer your question: am I happy? Not yet, but I will be. I want to be, so when you think of me, you don’t see a broken man with a few screws loose. And I will say this: I’m happier today with you at my fishing hole than I have been in a long time.”
Margaret enfolded Hawkeye into a hug before he could catch his breath. She buried her head against his shoulder and all he could smell were lilacs. God, how he missed her smell. His arms wrapped around her, and he held her tight, hoping she understood what he had tried to say.
“You’re not broken, Hawkeye,” she whispered. “And even if you were, it wouldn’t matter. I’m a bit broken myself.” She squeezed him tightly, pulling back just enough so she could kiss him, and it was like they were back in Korea on that final day. Like nothing had changed between them.
Hawkeye was glad for the privacy of his fishing hole. He couldn’t imagine what the local gossips would think if they caught him. Then again, that had never stopped him before.
When they broke apart, Hawkeye rested his forehead against Margaret’s. She had somehow ended up on his lap, her legs wrapped around his waist. Hawkeye’s cheeks were on fire, but they hurt too much from smiling for him to notice. “How long are you in town for, again?”
Margaret grinned. “I’ve got two weeks of vacation to use up.”
“And after?” He wouldn’t ask her to give up her job for him. That would be selfish, especially since he didn’t know what direction his life was taking. But having her here, in Crabapple Cove, under his favourite tree – he’d be crazy to want her to leave. And he wasn’t that crazy.
“We’ve got time to figure it out,” she said with a quick kiss. “We survived, Hawkeye. Now we get to live.”
To live. What a concept, after seeing so much death. And yet, it seemed possible now, where it hadn’t a few months ago. Hawkeye knew he would never truly get over what he had experienced in Korea, but if he could hold onto the good things in his life, and hold onto the people who made life worth living, he knew he would find a way to enjoy his life. Whether that was in Crabapple Cove, New York City, or somewhere else entirely.