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Crabapple Cove Ch. 01

By: Nigel Debonnaire



(Author's note: this is a sequel to the TV series, particularly the episode "Comrades in Arms". I'm not claiming this is how Hawkeye and Hot Lips's relationship HAD to be after they got home, but a possibility. Incidentally, this would be a Romance more than anything else, so be advised.)



It was a placid day in the Maine coast: a calm April Wednesday with a few clouds sitting above a freshly greening seascape while the tide drifted out. Maggie McIntyre drove up the hospital hill and found a place to park that was closer than a city block for once. As she got out of the car, the breeze played with her long, blonde hair; she caught a glimpse of her face, and stopped to check her makeup. It was perfect, as usual, her blue eyes clear above high cheekbones, clear skin and soft lips. A moment's realization made her pause: it was almost a mirror image of her grandmother's face from a Korean War picture, when she and her unit posed wearing cheesy grins in front of a sign reading: "Fort Dix, New Jersey". Usually, that picture made her laugh, since it tried to convince Uncle Max's mother he wasn't in Korea, but the memory now gave her pause.  Maggie felt a weight of history collecting on her, feeling she was taking up a baton she was uncertain about. Living up to the Major's standard as a granddaughter was tough enough; inheriting her mantle was something else entirely.

The small hospital looked clean and neat, a familiar sight to a newly certified doctor trained in Chicago. Her grandfather and grandmother spent many years operating on their patients here, and they maintained the highest standards. Several familiar faces smiled hello at Maggie as she marched primly in her heels: she grew up in that small town. The ICU was on the third floor, and signs took her there quickly and efficiently. 

Before she approached the ward, she stopped in the rest room and checked herself thoroughly: her green business suit and light blue blouse still looked well pressed, her modest makeup was perfect, her long blond hair discreetly waved, her teeth clean and straight thanks to early teen orthodontics, her hose smooth and her black medium heels shone enough to make a Marine drill sergeant nod in approval. No one would suspect she'd flown overnight from San Francisco through Boston and Portland with her son, driving up in the morning and stopping long enough to put her exhausted child to sleep in the house she grew up in. He was so tired he didn't mind sleeping in the gingerbread room she and her mother once occupied. Little Ben had no tolerance for anything he thought was too "girly" except for his mother.

The ICU room was a typical tangle of monitors and wires overlooking the sea. The patient click and whirl of the breathing machine kept air moving through his windpipe, moving his chest up and down, IV's trailed up from his arm to three bags hanging above him. Maggie checked the monitors out of habit as she entered before looking at the weathered old face of Hawkeye Pierce. Her grandfather's face was more lean than ever before, a breathing tube taped into his mouth, with a tense look of pain behind his tightly closed eyes under mop of disheveled silver hair. "They don't comb it enough," her grandmother said, almost leaping out of her seat to run a comb through it. "He squirms from time to time, his hair's a mess, and they do nothing about it. I'll have to bring it up with Chester sometime."

"Hi, Major," Maggie said, crossing around the bottom of the bed to come to the older woman's side. Her grandmother fussed for a few moments before turning around; her face was the face of a woman twenty years younger than her eighty plus years, her bright blue eyes slightly bloodshot with fatigue and worry, her face creased and her mouth drawn into a thin line. For a long moment, Margaret Houlihan Pierce regarded her granddaughter cooly as if making an inspection before seizing her in a hard embrace that took the younger woman's breath away. Maggie felt tears on her cheek and neck and started to cry a little herself.

"I'm so glad you're here, Maggie, so glad. I think I can cope now."  The older woman drew back and looked her over, and hugged her hard again. Breaking the embrace, she looked around her granddaughter frantically. "Where's Bennie?"

"He had to sleep, the trip wore him out. It's not easy for anybody making a Red Eye flight coast to coast, and he just got out of school when we went to the airport. Don't worry, he's at the house."

"Good. We'll pick him up later; Hawkeye will want to see him." She sat down quickly on her chair, tears streaming from her eyes, looking at her husband. Maggie waited for her, knowing from long experience when her grandmother was frazzled she would shift gears quickly and it was best to let her run through everything. "Hawkeye will want to see him," she echoed quietly.

"Major, has he opened his eyes today?" Maggie said after a slight pause.

A pause came first in reply. "No, he hasn't. They've checked his eyes twice today, he's still in the coma. I expect this morning's test results any minute. I've been watching the monitors since 0600: it doesn't look good."

Maggie nodded at the monitors. "They don't look good now."

"That's the bad thing about being a medical family: we know too much directly." Margaret broke her gaze and turned, taking her granddaughter's hand. "Have a seat, Maggie. It's amazing you were able to get here this quickly."

"I had a some good luck, and Uncle B. J. got us to the airport in record time. He offered to keep Bennie for me, but Bennie insisted on coming and I know a third stroke usually means trouble." There was a pause; Maggie didn't want to say it might be Bennie's last chance to see him. "When did it happen?"

"Just before lunch. We were going over to the Hanson's, and Hawkeye was going to play a round with Jerry while Jill and I went to look at some new antiques downtown. He seemed normal all morning, but I think he knew something was up, because he suddenly reached down, touched my cheek and said: 'Thanks, Hot Lips' in that somber tone of his. Then it hit him right after he orgasmed."

Maggie shook her head for a moment, to clear her brain. "He orgasmed?"

Margaret smiled demurely. "I know you don't want to hear about such things, children never want to imagine their parents or their grandparents having a sex life, but you're an adult now, a mother, a doctor, and you understand from a clinical perspective. Yes, I think the blood vessels in his brain gave way just after he had his orgasm."

"Major. . .Grandmother? I can't believe. . ."

"Oh, come on, Maggie, you know that people in their 80's are fully capable of having an active sex life, and Hawkeye was just as good yesterday morning as he was back in Korea. He'd already taken me from earth to heaven twice and I had to finish him off to keep him from getting blue balls. Given the choice, I know he preferred the stroke."

"O my God, Major. I can't believe it. What did you say to him when he said that?"

Margaret put a hand on her granddaughter's shoulder and smiled. "I couldn't say anything. My mouth was full and I was busy." She looked at the clock on the wall, and then back at the younger woman. "Let's go down the cafeteria, you must be starving after your trip. The food's all right, and we can talk. I've been sitting here since daybreak and I know he wants a break as well.  Candi will page us if anything changes."

Head Nurse Candi Fleming nodded at Margaret's request as they passed the nurses' station, and led them to the stairs. The older woman was lean and fit, moving gracefully and setting a good pace as they trotted downstairs. She wore a white turtleneck sweater and dark pants over sandals, a ring hanging from a gold chain around her neck that bounced with every step. The food concourse had three choices, and both women opted for the salad bar, taking a moderate amount of greens on their plates. They took a table overlooking the sea and sat, mirror images from different stages in life. As they ate, Maggie looked at the ring curiously: "I've never asked you, Major, where's the ring from? Is it your mother's?"

"Oh no, this old cheap thing? It's from Korea. My first wedding ring."

Maggie did a double take. "Your first what?"

"My first wedding ring. Didn't I ever tell you I was married before?"

"No, no, absolutely not," she said indignantly. "You didn't tell me all the Korea stories when I was growing up. A lot of them you said I wasn't ready for yet. You were married before Hawkeye?"

Margaret nodded. "Oh yes. His name was Donald Penobscot, Major Donald Penobscot. We met when I was on leave in Tokyo. . .well, you don't want to know all the details about that. Father Mulcahy did the ceremony, in fact, Donald was in a full body cast because Hawkeye and Trapper got him drunk out of his mind at the bachelor party and convinced him he was in an accident and broke both his legs. It wasn't funny then, but now it cracks me up every time I think about it."

The younger woman laughed out loud, putting down her fork to stifle herself, shaking and quivering. "My God, Major, they did that to you? I always thought Hawkeye always loved you."

The older woman giggled. "He had different ways to show it. Anyway, Donald and I weren't ever able to live together, thanks to the war, and within a year I divorced him. The jerk got a transfer and I cut him loose."

"Let me see it." Taking the ring in her hand, Maggie squinted at the inscription inside. " 'Over Hill, Over Dale, Our Love Will Ever Fail'? What kind of guy was he?"

"Oh, that's not the original ring. Hawkeye, B. J. and your Uncle Max got it for me after I lost the first one got lost during an ER session.  That's why I've kept it, because of them. . ."

Maggie shook her head and cut her grandmother off. "Major, I want to hear that story, too, but you never tell stories about home. I grew up listening to stories around Crabapple Cove going back to the Revolution, even stories about Hawkeye when he was a kid, but I never heard the story about how you got married, or what it was like raising my Mom and Uncle Alvin, or how you came to live here at Crabapple Cove. I always thought you weren't happy here."

"I've always been happy here, Maggie, ever since I got to Maine. You know that, I could never live a lie."

"But we always called you Major, all of us grandkids, even your son Alvin calls you that. Hawkeye would call you Margaret. I thought we had to call you Major because you always wanted to stay in the Army, and you missed it. It always made me a little sad."

Margaret touched the younger woman's cheek and smiled. "No, that wasn't it.  Hawk always called me Major when the kids were little, teasing me about being in charge, and I thought it was cute when they called me that, too. Never expected to be a mother, thought the Army was my life and would always be my family. I don't think Hawk ever expected to be a father after being a lothario who wouldn't settle down, so we didn't take well to being called Mom and Dad or Mother and Father. So our family knows us as Hawkeye and the Major."

"Hawkeye was a lothario? No, wait a minute. . .how come you didn't stay in the Army?"

"Well, that's a long story. . ."

***

The summer of 1954 was hot, hotter than most living memories. Late July saw a medical convention in downtown Kansas City at the elegant Muehlebach Hotel. Doctors and nurses from across the country came, including Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce of Crabapple Cove, Maine, and Major Margaret Houlihan, currently stationed at Fort Sam Houston in Texas. They found each other the first day and arrange to have breakfast at a nearby diner the next morning. Coming into the diner, she found him at a table toward the back: he wore a bulky grey suit with a black tie and smiled broadly in greeting; she wore her dress uniform. They embraced on meeting and sat. "Well, well, well, Hot Lips, it's been a long time," he said, giving her a full look up and down. "You're a sight for sore eyes."

She nodded gravely and said through pursed lips: "Yes, Hawkeye, the feeling's mutual, but I'd rather you didn't call me Hot Lips any more. I thought we settled that back in Korea."

He smiled. "Had to needle you a bit for old times' sake. What are old enemies good for?"

She arched her eyebrow and gave him a disbelieving look. "We were less than enemies when we parted."

"I know." The waitress brought her a cup of coffee and took their breakfast orders. When she moved away, he continued: "How's life in Texas?"

"Hot like a Korean summer. Knew it was going to be like that since Dad was stationed there when I was a teenager. People around here are fainting in this heat, but it's worse where I am."

"It's warm in Maine, but not this warm. Lots of folks come up from Boston and New York to escape the heat."

"I remember. Dad was stationed at Hanscom Army Air base for a while when they set it up in 1943; we spent the summer there and he took us up to the Maine coast a couple of times for the weekend. Beautiful country."

"Finest kind." They took a sip of coffee and looked around before he continued. "You terrorizing your nursing staff sufficiently down there?"

She chuckled. "My nursing unit is fantastic. Kellye came with me, you remember her from the 4077?"

"How could I forget?"

"We've got that unit's efficiency up 65% on our last report, and we'll do better by the end of the year."

"That sounds like the Major we've come to know and love. Always after better evaluations."

She shook her head and frowned at him. "They're wonderful girls, and I love them all. I've been teaching them how to play poker."

"You mean the rules of the game, or the way we played it as the 4077?"

"How do you think?" she said with a Chesire cat grin on her face.

He shook his head. "Remind me not to play with them. I've kept my techniques a closely guarded secret since I got home. A doctor struggling to put his practice together needs all the help he can get."

She sipped her coffee and nodded. "Tony and Mickie Baker had a little girl, their second."

"Tony and Mickie Baker?"

"Damn it, Hawkeye, you set up a conspiracy to get them together for a night's sex using my tent with a lame excuse about a quarantine patient. She got pregnant and had to ship out two months later. I could have killed you."

"I bet you could have a dozen times." He smirked and stared at him with little boy caught eyes. "Of course, I remember them. Tony wrote me a letter telling me they wanted to name their girl Hawkeye. Of course Mickie had more sense than that." 

They giggled after a moment and picked up their coffee cups, settling back in their chairs. "So how is life back in Crabapple Cove?" she asked, a concerned look on her face. "Sometimes I envy you, having a swell hometown to go back to."

Their food arrived, and Hawkeye sniffed every bite before eating it. "Some habits I can't break," he said as she looked at him quizzically. "Dad's been meaning to slow down for years, but he struggles with it even though he trusts me to help him with his patients. Had that cancer scare with him last year, and he had an episode last month that seemed like a heart palpitation, but he wouldn't tell me about it and swore his doctor to secrecy. I'm finding enough work to get by, and I should be secure financially by the end of the year."

Margaret smiled around her forkful of eggs. "And the women of Crabapple Cove have welcomed you back with open arms? Or maybe they remember the Don Juan too well from before?"

"Margaret, you can be so devious. I've only had a couple of dates this past year, mostly to reconnect with old flames, but I don't have anybody in my life right now." A wry smile crept over her face and he slammed down his fork. "Stop it, Margaret, I know what you're going to say, 'I've never really had anyone in my life,' and you're wrong." He calmed down. "I mean, I haven't had any kind of date for months. Been worried about work, and I'm not interested in anybody there. I don't know, it's not like that time I was impotent, but cruising for nurses isn't as much fun as it used to be." 

She put her hand on her chest and put her cup down in mock surprise. "Goodness gracious, stop the presses: Hawkeye Pierce may have grown up after all."

He smirked grimly. "Yeah, that's a painful thought, isn't it? After what we've seen in Korea, life here isn't just the same any more."

"That's what Colonel Potter used to say. That's what Dad used to say after he came home from the Pacific."

"Of course, being an adult back in your hometown is a strange transition. When I left for Korea, I was still a boy even though I'd just gotten certified and was starting in practice. Crabapple Cove used to be a place of wonder, there was a new adventure every day, not just in town, but out on the lakes, going on fishing cruises out to sea, crabbing, beach parties, hunting deer in the woods in the fall. Still do that, but it isn't the same. I don't know if all my friends have changed or if I have. It's still dear to me, and if we get into another stupid war with the Russians or the Chinese, I'd fight for her, but there's something missing there. Can't put my finger on it."

"I can relate to that. I've been an Army nurse a long time, I know how peacetime duty at a Stateside base goes. The only emergencies we have now are weekend fights, and we rarely have anything more than elective surgery. The people I work with are wonderful, my CO is a great officer, but the only one I'm really close to is Kealani Kellye, and that's because of what we went through together at the 4077.  If I wanted a transfer, Dad would get me one in a heartbeat. But there's something else missing. . ."

They ate and watched the people emerge from the steamy morning, seeking cool relief as well as breakfast. "How's B.J. doing?" she said.

"He's good. Got a letter from him just before I left: he and Peg are having another baby any day now."

"Really?"

"Yes, I think it's due almost nine months after he got home. Happens a lot." They chuckled knowingly and he continued: "He's doing well back in Mill Valley, like nothing's changed. Radar is still working the farm in Iowa, taking care of his mother, barely making it but making it. Charles is settling into his new kingdom and by all reports they're happy with him. His family is concerned about his fiancee: he looked up that French Red Cross worker who went through the 4077. . ."

"The one he had the hots for, and then she threw him aside? Or was it the other way around?"

"Yes, seems like he's gotten some balls after all. Anyway, he went to Europe after the war, found Martine, wooed her and brought her back. Mummy and Daddy were not at all pleased, called him a Bohemian and a traitor to his breeding, but they haven't disowned him. Guess they're hoping for Roman Numerals from him and this seems like the best shot."

She took a sip of coffee. "Good for him."

"The Colonel got back here to Missouri; I tried to get him to come to this conference, but he said he had some important fishing to do."

"Too bad."

"Father Mulcahy's in South America after a short stint with Potter in St. Louis; Trapper's in San Francisco, having another kid soon; Max is working for the VA in St. Louis."

"Did you ever hear from Frank Burns?"

"Who?" They chuckled again, and he grew very serious. "The toughest thing I did was on the way out here. I stopped in Illinois and visited Lorraine Blake." She touched his hand. "Lorraine's doing all right, soldiering on. A strong woman, trying to raise three children on her own. Henry's insurance came through, they're doing all right, the kids will get to go to college if they want, and the whole town's looking after them." A tear crept into his eye, and he brushed it away after a snivel. "I got her address if you want it."


Crabapple Cove Ch. 01



"Sure, Hawkeye. I do." They took a sip of coffee and looked away for a moment. Looking deep into his eyes, she said: "How are you, Hawkeye? After that trouble in Korea at the end?"

He looked at the wall. "Nobody knows back home, that I broke down and spent time at the funny farm. Sid Freeman came to visit last January, guess it was my 5000 mile checkup, and he pronounced me healed. But I can't tell anybody, haven't even told Dad about it. If it gets out the I spent time in a psych ward, I'm a marked man. It's hard to keep a secret."

"I know what you mean. I used to be the party girl, buddied up to all those Generals. Can't tell anybody about Frank Burns. Other than the fact that he's a creep and a hypocrite and only cares about himself. But you can't tell anybody you've had an affair with a married man, not even your best friend. If they know, you're a marked woman."  

They looked into each other's eyes, ignoring the food, letting the coffee get cold. The door opened and shut, again and again, letting in waves of heat. He looked at his watch: "We've got to get back, the morning session's going start in 15 minutes."

She put both her hands on both his. "Just a minute, Hawk, there's something I've got to say, and even thought it's taking a huge chance I've got to say it. I know what's missing in my life: you. Ever since that night in the hut with the artillery shells bursting around us, nobody has come close to you, not Scully, not anyone. You're still the wisest, most compassionate man I've ever known."

He looked back from the depths of his brown eyes. "I've never known anyone like you either, Margaret. You have such a passion for life, and you give life so freely. I've known a lot of women in my life, lived with one for a year, but none of them match up. All the women back home can't hold a candle to you."

"All the men in Texas, all the men in the Army can't hold a candle to you. I love you and I think I'll always love you."

Hawkeye sat there speechless for several moments, in rapt attention, unable to speak. At least, he blurted out from a deadpan look: "I just thought of something."

"What?"

"Let's skip the morning session together."

"I thought you've never ask."

***

"We went straight to his hotel room and didn't come out until it was time to go home. I think our clothes were off 15 seconds after we closed the door, we barely got the DO NOT DISTURB sign on the handle. When we weren't busy we ate room service, talked and slept. We agreed what our future would be together after we wore each other out that week and I've never regretted it."

Maggie sat with her mouth open, a tear trickling down her cheek. "That's so beautiful. I can hardly say anything."

"Went back to Fort Sam Houston and resigned my commission. Got to Maine with a duffelbag full of memories as soon as military transport could get me here, and we got married at the courthouse as soon as we could get a license. Six months later, I became head nurse at this hospital, and a year and a half after that your Uncle Alvin was born. We were off to a life together."

"Gosh. Damn. Hell, Major. I never knew you had a relationship with a married man. Never realized that happened back then."

Margaret touched her granddaughter's hand and smiled sadly. "Of course it did, do you think your generation invented it? I was young and stupid, and I'm lucky things didn't turn out worse. It was a good thing I ran into Donald Penobscot: at least he got me away from Frank. That's why it was so hard on us when you had that affair with that married professor when you were in college. At least Frank Burns didn't get me pregnant, and thank God people are less judgemental now than they were back in the 50's. It's not easy when people you love make the same mistakes you did, you feel so helpless. But you've come through beautifully, like a Houlihan woman should, and I'm proud of you."

"My God, Grandmother. It's like a fairy tale, you lived happily ever after."

"Well, don't go that far. If it weren't for Father Francis Mulcahy, we might have broken up ten years later. I'll save that story for now, first we need to check on Hawkeye, then we need to see if your son's awake and hungry. You may need a nap as well. Ready to go?"

"Yes. Where do we pay. . ."

"I have an account here, don't worry about it. 50 years of being the Head Nurse gives you some perks in a small town hospital, especially if you're a part owner. Move out, little soldier."

They walked back up to the third floor and checked with Candi. "Mark Larsen was here two hours ago, and didn't change any orders," she said. "We've kept a close eye on Hawkeye. Mark wants to talk with you and Alvin tonight."

"What did the tests say?"

"I don't think I can. . ."

"Yes, you can Candi. I trained you and you know how to read a report as well as any doctor here. I know it's not procedure, but tell me."

The younger woman took a breath. "He's not going to make it. If he survives, he'll be paralyzed, unable to speak, and will need a feeding tube. If we take out the breathing tube, he'll last a while, but you know as well as I there's no telling how long."

"So that's it?"

"Yes. Sorry, Margaret."

Margaret stood still for a moment, digesting the news, then went into the room and sat beside her husband, holding his limp hand for a long time without speaking. Maggie stood watching the tears run down the older woman's face. She slipped out of her heels to give her feet a rest: the floor felt cold under her feet.

Suddenly, Margaret let go, stood up, brushed the tears aside, and moved toward the door. "Follow me. We've got to get home." They passed the nurses station, and Margaret told Candi: "Tell Mark I'll be back at 1800 and we'll make the decision then." As they rode down the elevator, she swallowed heavily a couple of times, but as the doors opened she turned to her granddaughter and said: "We've got things to do. I'll tell you the rest of the story later today; it's time you heard more. When we get home, I'll call Alvin, feed Bennie, let you rest and get out Hawk's funeral file. A nurse's work is never done; don't forget that now you've become a doctor. Move out."  



Crabapple Cove Ch. 02



The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows of the house she grew up in. Maggie McIntyre woke up after a nap: her day had been longer than any shift she'd pulled during her Residency, and she still felt tired. The room still looked the same as it did when she moved away from home to college: a girl's room with lace lampshades and curtains, a ruffle around the bottom of the bed, fluffy pillows and a stuffed bear, and a handmade quilt over the comforter. 

She lay naked on top of her bed. Looking down, she noted ruefully she was chubbier than she wished, someday she would lose those ten pounds. Her body was still in prime shape, having just turned 28, her skin was clear and her belly relatively flat. The breeze wafted through the curtains, making her nipples rock hard and giving her goosebumps. Someday, someday, someday.

A knock shook her out of her reverie. "Who is it?" she asked, dreading it would be her seven year old son. She started wriggling to get under the quilt before he could enter.

"Your grandmother."

"Come." 

Her grandmother, Margaret Houlihan Pierce came in through the door with a steaming cup of coffee and a smile on her face. "Here you go, little soldier, something to wake you up. Have a good nap? You really needed it."

Maggie sat up and accepted the mug, unconcerned of her nudity. Her grandmother was barefoot in a halter top and shorts, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, her skin showing the signs of her age, but her body still fit. Despite being in casual clothes, it seemed like she still wore a uniform. "The boys are at the Hospital; Alvin took Bennie with him and they're keeping watch. Bennie's telling Hawkeye about his week at school, that'll be good for Hawk. Patients in his condition can still be aware of their surroundings. Mark Larsen won't be there until 1900, so we've got a couple of hours. We can sit a while, meet the boys for dinner at the Bay View, and make the meeting with Mark on time."

"Good. If you have confidence in Dr. Mark Larsen, he must be pretty good." They sat quietly for a moment, waiting, before the younger woman spoke: "Can't stop thinking of Hawkeye. All those days out on the boat fishing, those mornings in the deer stand upstate. That magic night in '04 when the Sox broke the Curse of the Bambino. Studying for Boards with him."

"You're not the only doctor we've trained. All the way back to Lt. Gail Harris at the 4077, all our students got a passing grade the first try."

The younger woman chuckled. "I guess you have. You've been training me since I was 2."

"And we're not done yet!" Margaret said with a twinkle of pride in her eye, then she looked down, lost in a sudden wash of sorrow.

Maggie put a hand on her shoulder. "You've always loved him, haven't you Major?"

A tear crept down the aged cheek. "Yes, ever since I that night at the hut, during the artillery barrage. Before that I could have killed him a dozen times."

Maggie shifted, drawing one leg underneath herself as she sat up. "I bet. He told me once you were his favorite target for mischief in the early days, when you all first got to Korea."

"Don't I know it?" she snorted. "I was out for him a few times as well, I mean, he was in my cross hairs a lot when we first met. Frank and I were itching to find a way to Court Martial him. But he was so good, too good a surgeon for the Army to throw him away."

"But not after you fell in love."

"I wouldn't say that," Margaret said with some irritation. "We didn't really go ape over each other until we got back, after that convention in Kansas City, and there were a few times after that I could have slugged him, he was such an arrogant bastard." 

They sat for a moment, before Maggie resumed. "Major, I remember you saying something about having trouble and needing Father Mulcahy's help."

"Oh yes. Things were pretty hectic about ten years after we married, around 1964, and I was ready to deck him about every other day. He was ready to deck me a few times as well. We'd heard Francis was back in the country, and went down the New York to meet him. He managed to get us tickets to the Yankees and afterward we went to the Jesuit residence in Manhattan. . .

*****

The Jesuit residence had several comfortable sitting rooms, with wood paneling, leather chairs and couches, walnut tables and sideboards. Fr. Francis John Patrick Mulcahy, S. J. led his old Army buddies Hawkeye and Margaret into the room, fresh from their sojourn at Yankee Stadium. Spreading his hands, he beckoned them: "Have a seat anywhere, anywhere you want. Can I get you something to eat, drink?"

"I'd like a Club Soda with a touch of Grenadine and a twist of lime," Margaret said primly.

Hawkeye snorted. "Scotch and Soda, as usual, Father."

"Coming right up, and since we're not in the Service anymore, I give you permission to call me Francis. Please. Scotch and Soda, and a Club Soda with Grenadine and a twist. Coming up. Make yourselves comfortable." The couple took chairs a distance from each other and settled in uneasily; Mulcahy busied himself at the bar and quickly produced the beverages they requested. He noticed the unease even after a pleasant afternoon in the sun, and set his mind to counseling mode. "Margaret, I'm surprised. You liked your Scotch as much as anyone at the 4077."

She took a sip on receiving her drink. "I got this sense a few years ago, after coming home, that I might have a problem. Looked at my family tree and noticed a lot of them have drinking problems. So I've been on the wagon since I came back from Korea. Once in a while, on a special occasion, I'll have a drop of the creature, as my grandmother used to say."

"A drop of the Creature," Hawkeye mimicked in a high, bad Irish brogue.

"I DON'T deny anyone else their right to have a drink or two in moderation. I know what it's like to live with an alcoholic, and I don't want anybody I love to live with one."

Hawkeye sneered at his wife. "And what does THAT mean?"

"Peace, friends, peace. I'm sure there's no problem here we can't work out. Margaret, please tell me how your children are doing."

Margaret bristled at her husband, then turned to face the chaplain: "They're doing wonderfully. Alvin is one of the smartest boys in his class, he'll be in third grade this fall. He already knows his multiplication tables."

"You won't let him go hunting with Dad and I. . ."

". . .and Elizabeth is just a doll. . ."

Hawkeye pointed an accusatory finger at his wife. ". . .And you always dress her like one. You never let her play in the mud."

Margaret sniffed. "No, her father plays in the mud enough as it is."

"We live in Maine, we're different, I'm a outdoorsman. The kids are stronger than you think."

"Friends, friends, friends," Mulcahy cut in. "Let's keep things calm, please. Please, for me. Wasn't it a great day for a ball game this afternoon?"

"It was pleasant," she said carefully. "I think the fans had a good time watching their team win. The game was never in doubt."

"No, it wasn't," her husband added. "You folks down here must find it pretty boring, Francis."

"Boring, Hawkeye? How come?"

"Well, your boys win almost every day. Granted, this was the Senators, but up in Boston it's always an adventure. Almost like Christmas when the Sox win, except when the Senators or Kansas City's in town."

"Oh, Hawk, be fair. We're in a tough pennant race this year, we're not taking anything for granted, and if we want to see a hopeless team, we can always head out to Flushing to see the Mets. You've got some fine young players up in Boston, Yazstremski in particular."

"Oh Yaz, has a lot of promise. Isn't the same since Williams retired, even though he was a jackass."

"Someday the Red Sox will win, the Yankees will lose and things will be different. The Curse of the Bambino will run out someday." 

The couple gave their old friend a short chuckle in common, and settled down in silence. The 4077th chaplain looked back and forth between them, his mind racing, wondering which topic to broach. They'd seemed relaxed enough at the Stadium, but it seemed to him they were used to putting on a brave front in public. At last, after a long pause, he turned to the surgeon: "How's your practice going, Hawkeye?"

Hawkeye took a big slug of his Scotch. "We're doing well. Dad finally retired completely last year, so I've got enough patients to make a comfortable living. I love taking care of my friends, the people I grew up with. They trust me."

Francis looked at Margaret, who shrugged her shoulders. "He's a fantastic talent, we knew that in Korea. Of course he's the best and everyone loves him. He's wasted in a small town, and we all know it. I wish he'd take some time for his family. When he does grant himself a little time off, he's either at the golf course or out after bluefin tuna or off to the woods hunting deer."

Hawkeye lowered his drink and looked at his wife in disbelief. "We see each other all the time, Margaret, all the time. At the office, in the operating room, at home. When do I not see you? Why shouldn't I take a little time for myself?"

The priest finished his drink and poured himself another. In the back of his mind, he thought it was easier keeping them off each other's backs when they were enemies at the 4077. At least then, they and their friends would engage in some foolishness to let off steam from time to time. It was different raising a family, pursuing a career. They needed a way to stay sane.

"Let's take another approach. Take a few minutes to calm down, you're both still wound too tight, and we can't get anywhere as long as you're tense. Hawkeye, finish your drink and I'll pour you another one. Can I get you something else, Margaret?"

"No." Her body language was still hostile; she was refusing to sink into the comfortable chair, sitting on it like it was a folding chair. Hawkeye was sprawled all over his, but his foot was tapping constantly in mid-air, threatening to throw off his black loafer. 

The priest looked at the nurse carefully. "You seem frightened about something, Margaret. I remember from Korea, your lips always trembles like that when you think things are running out of control."

She took a deep breath. "I'm scared, Francis, I'm scared."

"Scared, Margaret?"

"Yes, I'm sacred out of my wits. I've failed one marriage already, my parents' marriage failed too. I don't cope with failure well, I need to succeed, especially for the children's sake."

"Who said. . .?" Hawkeye blurted out.

"Peace, Hawkeye, peace, let her talk." Mulcahy said calmly. "Margaret, are you worried you'll lose Hawkeye?"

She looked aside, her upper lip trembling, and her voice quivered as she spoke. "Yes. I worry I've lost him already. I work so hard for him, trying to make him happy, both at home and at work. I'm not sure it's possible to make him happy. . .."

"And why do you think he'll leave you?" he added after a brief pause.

She sniffled. "He's done it before. He dated almost every nurse at the 4077, slept with most of them, and tossed them aside, one after the other. When we thought there'd be an armistice, he told all the girls he was dating he was married just so he wouldn't have to worry about one of them following him home. He's still a handsome man, and there's any number of divorced women in Crabapple Cove who'd love to snap him up. There's lots of young girls that would run away with him in a heartbeat. I hear them talking."

Hawkeye's eyebrows lifted halfway up his forehead. He downed his fresh drink in one gulp and held his glass out wanting another. "Margaret, I never knew. Sure, I used to date a lot of girls, everyone in Crabapple Cove knows that. There was a pool about who I'd settle down with, and the leading contender was 'nobody'. Even Dad used to prod me about it, before I left for Korea, telling me I needed to settle down." He put his head down, looking at the floor between his knees. "You're still the center of my universe. I went to that stupid convention in Kansas City ten years ago hoping to find you. I even considered re-enlisting if it'd bring me closer to you. Half the time I was pulling tricks on you back at the 4077, I was envious of Frank Burns, angry you'd prefer that phony pipsqueak over me. I was jealous you went for every passing general, everyone who could take you places, knowing I. . .I. . .I was nothing. Once I made that vow to you, there's been no other: never has been and never will be. Good grief, I worry that you'll get tired of Crabapple Cove and run off somewhere with one of those generals you used to date. I need a break every now and then, but it's always you."

Mulcahy nodded and made a sigh of relief. There was a light at the end of the tunnel, and it wasn't an oncoming train. "Hawkeye, Margaret, I'm glad you asked to see me. Now we can get somewhere. Let me share a few things with you, let you think about them, and you can recalibrate your relationship a bit. What was it about the 4077 that was so special, better than any other MASH in Korea?"

They thought for a moment. A bell rung for prayers, but their friend made no move to leave. At last, they looked at him quizzically, and he shrugged his shoulders. "Why did Sid Freeman come for a poker game and stay a couple of weeks?" he continued.

"That was crazy," Hawkeye said. "Why he took a vacation in Hell is beyond me. He said we had an extraordinary gift for life in the midst of death and destruction. Our little ways of making fun of each other, doing stupid, harmless things, kept us sane in the midst of that great insanity."

"We were good at that," Margaret said, smiling. "Almost every officer that came through didn't understand us, the way we talked to each other, played pranks on each other. I wouldn't admit it, but the tension never really had a chance to grow to the dangerous levels. Just once or twice, it got too much: the first time we build a ridiculous bonfire, and the second, we went home."

Mulcahy pointed and them and shook his finger at them in triumph. "Yes, friends, that was it. That's one of the lessons. You need to let that tension out. Hawkeye needs to let out his wisecracks, and Margaret needs to let that loopy sense of humor loose when she can. Do you still make jokes during surgery?"

"No, not since Korea," Hawkeye said. "It seems irreverent when I'm operating on my Sunday school teacher, or my best friend's kids."

"How are they to know?" Mulcahy replied. "They're sedated and can't hear you. It's good medicine, good life skills, and keeping yourself relaxed serves them better than being too sanctimonious, which you have a tendency to do, Hawk." He nodded, and the priest turned to his other friend. "And you, Margaret; in some ways you get as serious and driven as he is. You're too protective of your family. You were the same way with your nurses, and it took you a while to learn how to loosen up, didn't you?"

"Yes, it did. Mickey Baker and those girls taught me that. Gail Harris taught me that."

"Children are a gift, but only a temporary one. Already, they're making their own unique characteristics felt, I'm sure."

"Oh yes," they said in unison, looking at each other in surprise afterward.

"Accept them as they are as you protect them and challenge them to grow. They'll get dirty, they'll make mistakes. Margaret, do you think Hawkeye can take care of Alvin or Elizabeth in the Maine woods? Is there any emergency your husband can't handle?" 

She thought for a moment. "No, no, of course not. I've never been much of an outdoor person, other than the Army I've never gone camping. . ."

"But you lived with bedbugs, lice, rats and other vermin in Korea."

"Yes, but. . ."

"But what? Your kids won't find worse than that here. You're stronger than you think you are. You love each other more than you realize right now. There's one other thing I'd recommend: take some time to visit each other's worlds. Margaret, what do you love to do best for recreation?"

"Knit, sew, cook. . ."

"No, not that."

"I don't like the party scene anymore. It was like I was a teenager too long."

"Try again. How many different souvenirs did you come back with when you went on leave?"

She thought a minute. "I love to see new places, meet new people. Growing up an Army brat, anywhere could be home, anywhere was home. I loved traveling the world."

"Wouldn't you love to travel again?"

"Sure."

"That's one part. Take a cross country family vacation next summer. I know you've wanted to visit B. J. and Peg Hunnicut in San Francisco, and I think Trapper John and his wife live out there, too. You could see Potter and Klinger in Missouri, Radar in Iowa, any number of people between here and there. There's also the traditional stopping places, they're everywhere."

Hawkeye thought for a few moments. "I wouldn't mind that. After the war, I never wanted to leave Crabapple Cove, but exploring the country with Margaret and the kids sounds like fun, now that you mention it. " He slapped his hand on the end table next to his chair. "Damn, why didn't I think of that sooner? We could start that tomorrow: I've never seen the Statue of Liberty or been in the Empire State Building."

The Chaplain turned to the Head Nurse: "Now Margaret, you could visit Hawkeye's worlds are well. Do you play golf?"

"No, but I did caddy a few times. For the Generals, especially General Hamilton, why one time I wore a white bikini. . ."

"I think we need to veer away from that idea, that image is a bit too. . .inspiring and I think your husband is more than a little interested as well." Hawkeye's eyes were getting a little glazed, and Mulcahy felt an odd reminder of what he'd given up for life.

She blushed. "Why, Francis, I never knew. . ."

"To put it on clinical terms, I was only ordained, I wasn't castrated." The Pierces laughed out loud: a heathy laugh that dispelled gloom and dissolved tension. "You could also go fishing or hunting with him once in a while."

"Well, I don't know. . ."

"It can't be worse than Korea. If it gets too bad, you can always go back home."

She nodded and spread her hand. "That's right. OK, I can do that once in a while. If he's up to it," she said, jerking her thumb at him over her shoulder.

Her husband gave a non-commital look, raising his eyebrows. "Sure, I'll give it a try."

"Excellent," Mulcahy gushed. "I think we've made some progress here. Try to take life easier, loosen up a bit, and find some shared pleasure in your lives."

"Well, Father, we still have one means of pleasure that's working pretty well. . ." Hawkeye started.

"I don't need to hear about that," he said with hands raised, cutting his friend off. "By the way, who won that pool on who you were going to marry back in Crabapple Cove? I'm sure nobody knew Margaret was in the running."

She chuckled and he smiled. "I did." he said. "I got my cousin Ernie to put a little bet down just in time, cut him in on the proceeds. We made out like bandits."

Father Francis John Patrick Mulcahy laughed long, hard and freely. "Some things never change. That sounds just like you." He clapped his hands together as a bell rang. "Now, are you ready for dinner?"

"Sure," Margaret said. "It smells wonderful. Who does your cooking?"

"Our brothers do all the cooking, and they share recipes with other Jesuit houses around the world, honing their techniques. We did all the labor on this house as well, some of us are rather good carpenters."

Hawkeye looked around. "One would hardly think this wasn't a corporate boardroom, or a luxury hotel."

"Funny you should say that. There's an old joke about a young man inquiring into our community. He toured one of our universities, shared dinner with us, and at the end of the evening they asked if he was interested. 'Sure', he said, 'if this is how you guys do poverty, I can hardly wait to see what you do with obedience and chastity.' "




Crabapple Cove Ch. 02



"That's funny, Francis," Margaret said. 

"Yes, but they weren't that amused when I made the observation. I barely got out of Novitiate alive after that one."

*****

"The New York tour was one of the best days we had together," Margaret said, looking out the window. "It was like we were dating, getting to know one another all over again. Then we went out tuna fishing on our day off the next week. I hooked into a fish, and Hawkeye strapped me into the chair. Fought that damn thing for an hour before I got it onboard, but it was the most beautiful thing I ever saw. I never felt so alive. Hawkeye never had to ask twice about a fishing cruise again."

"Wow, that's fantastic," her granddaughter said. "So that's why you've kept going out together on the ocean."

"Yes. Well, that first time, after we got the fish on board and into the live well, he tore off my clothes while I was still strapped down and took me in the bright sunlight."

"Grandmother!"

"Like I said, you're an adult now, and a doctor. The sunburn the next day wasn't that much fun, but we always remembered the sunscreen after that. We also had to come in to the dock after dark, so I could get to the car unseen. Never liked being naked in public. Just like that night in Tokyo with General Sanders. . ."

"Yes, I understand, Major," Maggie said, cutting the older woman off quickly. "Father Mulcahy's still alive, isn't he?"

"He's pretty frail in body, but firm in mind. We can visit him in Philly sometime; he'd love to see you again."

"I wish I'd known him better. Be honest with me: what did you think of Hawkeye when you first met him?"

She shrugged her shoulders. "I thought he was a boor, a self centered creep, arrogant, pushy, childish, unmilitary in every way, didn't deserve to wear the uniform of our country."

"What did he think of you?"

"He thought I was a cross between Blanche DuBois and Heinrich Himmler. At least, that's what he told me later. I was dating Frank, who he hated with a passion, so I was lumped in with him."

"So what changed your mind?"

"Hawkeye's dedication to medicine, to his patients. He's as much a fighter as I am, just as relentless. Skilled and compassionate, smart and witty. I was surprised how cultured he was underneath that juvenile delinquent, and how much he picked up about combat. Like the night we were stuck in that abandoned hut, how he knew the artillery spotters were using it as a reference point and wouldn't destroy it because of that."

"The night you fell in love, Major?"

Margaret gave her granddaughter a steely look. "The night we fell in heat, and fucked each other crazy in the midst of an artillery barrage. I was scared out of my mind, and he turned everything into the Fourth of July."

The younger woman shifted uncomfortably on the bed and looked at the clock. "It's about time we went."

"Yes, Maggie. We'll take a run through the shower before we go. I'll call Alvin and the boys will meet us at the Bay View. Might as well have a nice meal before getting down to business."

"Yes, it doesn't look good."

"Tell me, Maggie. You're a doctor and you got a good look at the monitors, you saw his chart and heard the symptoms. What would you tell his family if he were your patient?"

The younger woman thought for a minute, then returned her grandmother's steely look. "I'd recommend they take him off the respirator. He's not coming back to anything near normal, and I know he'd hate being pushed around everywhere, unable to speak and dependent on everybody. They should let him go, it would be the best for all, both emotionally and financially."

The older woman kissed her granddaughter on her forehead. "You're mine and I'm proud of you. Well done. Move out, little soldier, we need to get going."



Crabapple Cove Ch. 03



A full moon hung over the Maine coast, turning the landscape electric blue and adding an eerie quality to the whitecaps of the incoming tide. Maggie McIntyre, perfect in her green suit and light blue blouse, leaned against the ICU window, gazing at the night. Her grandmother, Margaret Houlihan Pierce sat next to the bed where Hawkeye lay motionless. Occasionally one of the women would glance at the monitors: nothing was happening quickly in this midnight hour, and both of them knew what was coming at the end of the night. "He looks peaceful after they took the tube out," Margaret said after a long silence. "I don't think he wanted it."

"No, I don't think so, either," her granddaughter replied. "You ready for a break?"

A shake of the head was the answer. "I've been on longer vigils than this one. One of us should go out in a few minutes and call the house so Alvin's crew knows what's going on. He would have stayed as well, but he's needed for chest surgery in the morning, so he needs some rest."

"Hawkeye would have understood. He was so proud of Uncle Alvin becoming a surgeon."

"Don't talk like that, he's not gone yet. He does understand what we're saying; he'd give us the same courtesy."

Maggie went and turned the television off. No one had watched it all evening; it was on like an electronic hearth to keep the family company and fill the awkward, silent spaces in the vigil. All was quiet in the ICU, even the nurses glided from door to door as they surveyed their charges. The floor nurse stuck her head in: "Do you want any coffee, Margaret?"

"Sure. Bring a pot."

"Coming up."

"Thanks, Susie." A few minutes later a pot of coffee appeared, with two fresh cups. "Susie's a good one, been here for twenty years."

"I remember, Major. She was my girl scout leader."

"That's right, she was." The women sipped their coffee, and time rolled by. "Heard from Justine lately?"

"Oh yes, she's up to speed with the situation here. Coming up tomorrow afternoon; she was in Montana and had a tough time getting here."

"Oh. Montana?"

"Yeah. We turned her into an outdoor girl."

"My goodness, that's right. I forget how many times she went up to the woods with us. Gosh it doesn't seem like that long ago. . ."

*****

It was a warm, summer July 1984 evening as Hawkeye and Margaret made their way to Beacon Hill in Boston. Parking was difficult, but they found a place after a long search, and hiked to the residence of Dr. Charles Emerson Winchester III. She held a precious cargo in her arms, two year old Maggie McIntyre, her granddaughter, who'd just come into their daily lives. He rang the doorbell, and they were instantly admitted to an elegant entryway. "Every time I come here I feel like I'm entering the Queen of England's palace," she said.

"I always look for a ticket booth and a concession stand," he replied. "And the movie posters."

She smacked him on the arm. "Oh, Hawk! Do you always have to needle Charles?"

"Of course, force of habit. You didn't have to share a tent with him."

"Oh, come on. He had to be a lot more fun that Frank Burns."

"Depends on how you look at it. . ."

"And you were always jealous of him."

"Oh, come on. . ."

Charles Emerson Winchester III emerged from the hallway and came forward, offering his hand. "Margaret, so wonderful to see you after all these years. How long has it been? Five, six, seven? Welcome. And welcome, Hawkeye, it is truly good to see you again. And whom do have we here?"

Margaret turned so the child could face their host and said: "Her name is Margaret Elizabeth McIntyre and she's our granddaughter."

Winchester touched the girl's head tenderly. "Welcome, dear little one. You bring a special beam of light to this humble residence." Her grandfather snorted softly, but his host ignored it. "As it so happens, my grandchildren are visiting and my three year old granddaughter Justine is enjoying a bowl of ice cream in the kitchen right now. Would you like a bowl of ice cream, Margaret?"

"Maggie," the little one said defiantly from the crook of her grandmother's arm.

"Of course, my mistake," he deferred. "Would you like a bowl of ice cream, Maggie?"

The girl looked at him dubiously for a few moments until her grandmother murmured: "You can have a bowl of ice cream with Justine if you want to, Maggie. It's all right."

"OK, Major." She squirmed down to the floor and ran down the hallway on her flip flops, her tresses streaming behind her and his dress bouncing with every step. They watched her push her way through the door, and shortly afterward they heard her asking nicely for vanilla.

"What a trusting young lady," Charles observed. "How did she know that was the way to the kitchen?"

"She didn't," her grandfather said. "That's her, rushing off half knowing where she's going and trusting she's on the right track."

"Like almost every child," his host remarked. "Well, now the children are occupied, let's repair to the study and enjoy some brandy."

"I didn't know the study was broken," Hawkeye said calmly.

His wife punched him hard on the arm, and his host said blithely: "Some things never change, do they?"

They entered the library, its shelves were full of books of varying ages, as well as tables and several comfortable couches and chairs. Charles went to the sideboard and produced a crystal decanter of liquor. He poured the proper amount into three snifters and beckoned them to make themselves comfortable. After serving them, he swirled the liquid in the glass, slowly inhaled the aroma, and took a gentle sip. His guests imitated him, and he said: "At times like this, I still envy our friend Max's proboscis. How is Max these days? I haven't heard from him for a while."

"He's still in St. Louis," Hawkeye said. "Playing the middle class patriarch and developing networks of family and friends. He still puts on a dress once in a while, to freak out his grandchildren. Soon Lee is saint for putting up with him all these years."

"Yes, Max was always out of place in the Army." He took a leisurely sip of his liquor and looked at them. "I've enjoyed working with your son, Alvin. A brilliant and talented young man, obviously takes after his mother."

"Thank you, Charles," she said, beaming.

"Yeah, thanks," his father grumbled.

"He has a chance to be one of the finest surgeons Massachusetts General Hospital has produced. Two months into his Thoracic residency, and it's like he's been here for years. What a fine young man you've produced."

"Yes, we're pretty proud of him, too." Hawkeye said.

"How are your children, Charles?" she inquired.

"Well, they're doing rather well for the most part. Putting Francine through Vassar right now, and Jeremy is doing a tour with the Peace Corps in Bolivia. Charles IV, or Quarto as I call him, is in private practice near Springfield, and Edith is starting her corporate law practice in Manhattan. The grandchildren are here this month, as they always are, and in a couple of days we'll head out for the country home."

Margaret had a puzzled look on her face. "You keep all your grandchildren through the month of July?" 

Charles smiled warmly. "Of course, they each are a precious gift and I adore every one of them. I'm trying to change the history of the Winchester family, making us a little more human than the elders my generation grew up with. Even though I lost my dear wife ten years ago, I've always made time for my children and grandchildren, unlike my own parents."

"Even changing diapers?" Hawkeye interjected.

"My dear man, after sharing that rat infested dump you and your nefarious comrade called the Swamp for all those months, there is nothing in my grandchildren's diapers I have ever feared," he said with a smug tone. "Now to express a more serious sentiment: I am sorry to hear about the deaths of your daughter and son."

"Thanks," Margaret murmured.

"Thanks, Charles. It's been tough, you know what it's like."

"Indeed, after my son Timothy's accident two years ago, I have a very good idea what you're going through."

"Yeah."

"Is there anything I can do for you?" 

"Well, Charles, I'm hoping for a recommendation. John McIntyre Junior was going into practice with me, was only here a month, and his loss means I need help. It was going to be perfect. . ." A sob escaped his lips and he put his face in his hand.

Margaret rallied and picked up the story. "It all started with those road trips we took. The last one we took as a family was all the way across the San Francisco. Bethie was seventeen, Alvin was twenty one, and we spent two weeks with John McIntyre and his family. John Junior was a little older than Alvin, and little did I know Bethie would fall for him so hard. She even conspired to go to college in the Midwest to be near him when he went through medical school, and the next thing we knew, they were asking us if they could get married."

"I wonder how often that's happened," Charles said. "Have you heard of it?"

"No," she continued. "The reunion last month was pretty poorly attended, and I think most of our unit has drifted pretty far apart. It'll probably be the 50th anniversary that we'll have a big gathering again. But no, no other children of the 4077 have settled down with each other."

"John was at the top of his class at Stanford," Hawkeye cut in. "Bright, as good a cutter as his old man, funny, smart. It was almost like Trapper was coming East." He took a sip from his glass. "We named her Elizabeth after my mother, who died when I was a child. Didn't know how prophetic that would be."

"And now they're gone, like a light switched off at night," Margaret finished. "We were babysitting Maggie when it happened, she hasn't left my side until now."

Charles looked curious and asked Margaret: "Did your daughter look like you?"

"Spitting image," Hawkeye said. "People said Elizabeth and Margaret could have been twins."

Charles leaned back and put his hand to his chin in thought. "That would explain a lot. Maggie wants to stay with you because you look like her mother. It will take her a while to process this loss, but you're smart people and can do your research, you'll cope after all is said and done. I can't think of anyone better for her to be with."

"I didn't think we'd have to go back to child rearing," Hawkeye said. "Haven't lived with a 2 year old since, since, since Bethie . .was 2."

"Blood is thicker than water, and the Pierce and Houlihan clans are fiercely loyal to one another," Charles said. "You'll adjust, and it may even be more fun this time. I wish my grandchildren could live with me all the time."

"You're really an old softie after all, aren't you, Charles?" Margaret said.

"Don't tell anyone, especially Alvin," he responded, conspiratorially.

At that moment, two barefoot little girls ran into the room, one brunette with two long pigtails, and a girl with long blonde tresses. Both were slightly red faced, with traces of ice cream around their lips. "Grandpapa, may I ask a favor of you?" the brunette asked elegantly.

Charles put on a haughty air as he replied: "Yes, Justine. What would that favor be?"

"I would like to play with my new friend Maggie, and ask if she could stay overnight."

"Well, I don't know," he said as he leaned back, deep in thought. "Is this what Maggie wants?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah," the blond girl said, leaning forward and clapping her hands.

"Hmm. Perhaps you should ask Doctor Pierce is she could stay tonight?"

"Doctor Pierce," Justine said solemnly, turning toward him. "May Maggie spend the night with us tonight? We would have ever so much fun."

Margaret laughed out loud and Hawkeye made a show of thinking about it, while Maggie held her hands in prayer and said: "Please, please, please, please, please, Hawkeye. Can I? Can I?"

"Okay, I guess so, if it's all right with your grandmother," her grandfather said after an appropriate pause. Her grandmother nodded almost immediately with a big smile. He continued: "You behave and do everything they tell you."

"Yippee," the girls said in unison, and ran out the door together.

The adults laughed, slapped their knees and rocked back and forth for several moments. "I'm amazed," Margaret said at last after she caught her breath. "This is the first time she's willingly left my side for two months."

"Sometimes it takes another child to pull a child out of a funk, and children are almost always ready to play, no matter what. Justine has been lonely here since she's the only girl in the family her age: the other five children are boys older than she is. Your timing couldn't have been better for her sake. Now, I sense you want me to help you with something, Hawkeye. Out with it, man."

Hawkeye took another sip from his snifter. "I need another cutter, someone to work for me back home. You know the talent, maybe one of your students wants to get away from it all, at least for a few years."

"We'll take good care of him," Margaret cut in. "The cost of living isn't as high as here, and it's a good place to raise children."

"You should know," Charles replied. "I know just the person for you. Ideal candidate, talented, a young family: a small town boy who misses the rural life."

Hawkeye clapped his hands. "Great. Who?"

Charles paused dramatically with a small smile on his face, his eyes twinkling before he answered: "Dr. Alvin Daniel Pierce."

"What?" his mother said.

"Look, I know who much you need family close as possible nearby at this time, and I know how important Crabapple Cove is to the Pierce clan. Alvin needs to be in contact with home after losing his sister. I propose we let him have the best of both worlds: he can alternate one week here and one week home. The weekends will be his as well, and I know the standards of your hospital are up to the standards here. He can move his wife Jeannie and their three boys. . ."

"Four boys," Margaret cut in. "Number four on the way."

His eyebrow raised in surprise. ". . .four boys back to Maine where you can be close to them as well. I can get Alvin a place to stay when he's here, and it's all set. What do you think?"

The Pierces looked at each other in amazement for several moments before he responded: "It's a brilliant idea, Charles, thank you. I had no idea. Yes, I think Alvin will go for this, hell, it's the best of both worlds."

"Thank you, Charles, thank you," she cut in. "This is amazing. But Charles, whatever can we do for you?"

"Well, perhaps there is one thing. . ."

"What?"

"Perhaps you can let Maggie spend some time with Justine on occasion. She needs a surrogate cousin."

"Done."

*****

"Oh, so that's how I met Justine? I never knew."

"No, you wouldn't. Charles really came through for us."

Maggie nodded her head. "Uncle Charles has a very rough reputation as a teacher, like Professor Kingsfield of the old Paper Chase series, but I always though him a sweetheart. Miss him even now, after ten years." 

"When you get my age, you miss a lot of people, and wonder how it happened." Margaret took another professional look at the monitors. "It'll be at least another hour, maybe two. Hawkeye always was a tough, old bird, and it'll take some time before his old body gives out. Want a nap, Maggie?"

"No, Major, I'm fine. My biological clock is so screwed up I'm wide awake and gonna stay that way."

"Biological clock?"

"Circadian rhythm? I just said I was awake, not that I could think or talk." They laughed, and settled back into their vigil. The clock read 3:30, and all was still fairly quiet.

The women were comfortable in silence, and from time to time he would stir or make some gesture. At 4:00, Margaret called her son in, and he arrived 15 minutes later, puffing as he came up to the room. "Snap inspection, Major?" he breathed as he came through the door.

"And you passed with flying colors, my son. Your namesake grandfather would be proud of you."

"Howitzer Al. How's Hawkeye?"

"See for yourself." The young man looked at the charts and monitors intensely: he was lean like his father, his dark hair was just turning grey, and his eyes were duplicates of his mother's. "How's everyone at home?"

"Sleeping. Jeannie put the coffee on and is getting organized, but the boys are dead to the world. No lights on at Dan's house, or Charlie's, or Pete's. Bennie wound down after midnight, guess his clock is still on Pacific time."

"What time are you in surgery?" his niece said.

"Curtain goes up at six. A splenectomy. What to join the party, Maggie?"

"No thanks," she said, sipping her coffee. "Little preoccupied and don't want distraction. Hawkeye would want you there and me here."

"OK"

"Alvin," Margaret said calmly. "I think we need to make our pitch to Maggie."

"Oh Mother, you're way ahead of things, good grief, Hawkeye's still here."

"He would approve."

"You know what I think. Don't agree with the timing, but I'm on board."

"All right, we go ahead."

Maggie put her cup down and looked back and forth between them. "Go ahead with what?"

"Well, Maggie, you know we're shorthanded here. When your grandfather had his first stroke nine months ago, he couldn't operate anymore. He pitched in as much as he could, basically became a diagnostician, but Alvin's been working his fingers to the bone. None of his boys went into medicine: I love my grandchildren dearly and I'm very proud of them, but we've needed help and we don't trust just anybody. You had a great internship in Palo Alto. . ."

"I had to get away, even though I was accepted at Mass General. Needed someplace new."

". . .And we haven't had much luck talking any young surgeons into coming up here in spite of the salary."

The young woman crossed her arms and stared out the window. "I think I know what's coming," she said softly.

"We'd like you to move back and work for us. You know how much Bennie would love it here, and he's got several cousins close to his age; they'll be like brothers."

"Brothers," she repeated.

"You'll have help, you'll have a nice place to live, and all the work you can handle. If you want to take in high culture with Justine, Boston isn't far away."

"And where is this nice place I'm going to live?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the older woman continued calmly. "You can have my house." There was a pause; this was unexpected, and Alvin's jaw dropped. "Close your mouth, Alvin. You've already got controlling interest in this hospital, so you're not hurting. You've got a nice home, so do all your boys, and Maggie has nothing. You'll get a talented young doctor for your staff, the help you've been screaming for, and someone you can trust to boot. Hawkeye and I train good doctors, you know that."

"But where will you live, Major?" her granddaughter asked.

"I need a smaller place, I'm not as young as I used to be. We've got a little cabin on the far end of the bay we've been renting, and it's empty right now. Walter lives up there, so I'll have a grandson to watch over me, three small great grandchildren to mind during the day, and some beachfront for long walks. You'll need a bigger place, Maggie. Bennie needs room to grow."

Maggie tapped her foot and kept looking back and forth between the other two, interrupting to check Hawkeye's condition from time to time. "Well, I'm wide awake now for what it's worth. I'm not easy to work with sometimes."

"You're really a Pierce," he replied. "You're like Hawkeye: you settle for nothing less than your best. We can disagree from time to time, that doesn't matter. We'll work through it, just like Hawkeye and I did when I was starting out."

They held a tableau for several long moments, almost unblinking. The numbers on the monitors crept downward and a faint glow starting crawling over the far edge of Muscongus Bay, silhouetting the fishing boats sailing out. "Hell, why not?" Maggie said at last, "I'm probably running straight into trouble again, but what else can I do? It's what Hawkeye would want." She went over and kissed her grandfather on the cheek. "You win, Hawkeye. I'll come back and take your place. Uncle B. J and Aunt Peg will be heartbroken, but they'll understand. Wish Grandpa Trapper could see this, and Uncle Charles." She brushed tears that suddenly started to stream from her eyes. "Damn, what's come over me?"




Crabapple Cove Ch. 03



"I don't know," her grandmother answered, tears streaming from her eyes.

At that moment, the old man's eyes flickered open. Margaret ran across the room and started calling his name, and he looked at her. His lips started moving, and she drew close to listen. Faint words came out, but all Maggie and Alvin could make out were: ". . .loved you, Hot Lips. . ." Then the eyes closed, the lines went flat, and the curtain fell.



Crabapple Cove Ch. 04



It was an unusually hot day for Mill Valley; the temperature was well over 90 and looked to stay that way for several days. Maggie McIntyre was sitting on the back porch in a wicker chair wearing a pair of cutoffs and a white halter top, her bare feet propped on the railing, sipping a martini. B. J. Hunnicutt sat by the door in his wheelchair, sipping a martini, wearing only a pair of bermuda shorts and a straw hat, his skin bronzed in contrast to his bright, white mustache. "I must say, Maggie," he said out of the blue, "you surely have your grandmother's legs."

"Thanks, Uncle B. J," she said, giving him a warm smile. "You say the nicest things."

". . .and she's probably wondering when she'll get them back."

Maggie had a thought to throw her drink at him, and reconsidered quickly with an elegant bluff. "I should have known. Maybe someday I'll learn to wait before I say something stupid like that around you. And how often did you get to see my grandmother's legs?"

"Many times in Korea, especially when it was hot. She had the best legs in camp, according to the enlisted men, but they'd never say it to her face because they were sacred of her."

She nodded and looked out at the view. "I can believe that. And what about the officers?"

B. J. took a thoughtful sip of his martini. "I'd say they agreed with the enlisted men. Even Colonel Potter made a comment about it during happy hour one night when she was away on leave."

"And what about you?"

He looked from one side to the other solemnly, then took a peek through the window. "I'd say I'd agree with Colonel Potter."

She smirked and took another sip from her drink. "And I would say, Uncle B. J., you make the best martinis, even better than Hawkeye."

"A dry martini is the greatest drink ever made, best thing on a hot summer's day. A drink dying of thirst."

"What's your recipe?"

A conspiratorial grin filled his face as he took another sip. "I'll never tell."

Fidgeting, she wiped some sweat off her brow and looked around. B. J. Hunnicutt lived in the same house he built just after he returned from Korea. The neighborhood grew around him, and redeveloped as more affluent gentry moved in, but the spacious, well built wooden house remained as a testament to the respect Dr. B. J. Hunnicutt had with his neighbors. 

She held out her empty glass. "I need some more to drink, please. Pour me another."

He shuddered out of his reverie and refilled her glass, then topped off his own. "Peg's been gone for six years. Doesn't seem like yesterday we were walking down the aisle, saying goodbye at the airport when I was drafted, breaking ground here. . ."

"How's your family doing?" she cut in, hoping to sidetrack him from sad memories. "Seven girls are a lot to keep up with."

"They're all fine. Erin's a grandmother again, a boy this time. Sooner or later I'll have enough male descendants to make a quorum. Don't see them often, none of them live around here since Betsy moved away a couple of years ago. Erin's youngest girl Casey's going to school at USF and comes out on the weekends."

"Aren't you worried living here by yourself, especially since. . ."

"My cancer's in remission, and I can get around all right, even in this thing. Home Health Care sends someone out every morning to check on me, and my neighbors take turns bringing supper by. Got a cell phone right here with help #1 on the speed dial, and a life alert necklace. Don't need to be in a nursing home yet." The last lines were delivered in an irritated tone.

Maggie held her hands up and a puzzled look appeared on her face. "I wasn't saying anything like that, Uncle B. J. No need to get upset. Sheesh, it's none of my business how you're set up here, just wanted to know. Just curious, the Major will want to know in detail. Good grief."

B. J. shook her head. "Sorry, Maggie. People ask me if I want to move to assisted living from time to time, and I get impatient with them. Comes with getting older. Bet Hawkeye would have had none of that."

"Of course not, nor would the Major. He was lucky to have gone as quickly as he did." They sat and looked as a plane passed overhead and another breeze played with the tree branches nearby. "Who did the Major's medical checkups in Korea? I know it would have been Frank Burns at first, but after she broke up with him I can't figure out who would have. Unless she had them done in Tokyo. "

"Why do you ask?"

"Just morbid curiosity."

B. J. thought for a moment, a small smile on his face. "I did her examinations. Hawkeye was always got a little too excited, and Potter was usually too busy. After she broke up with Burns, I was it; I did her exam just before she married the Lieutenant Colonel."

Maggie sat up in her chair, putting her feet on the deck. "Lieutenant Colonel? Wait a minute, I thought she was only married once in Korea. Lieutenant Colonel who?"

"Penobscot. Come to think of it, I helped Hawkeye put him into the body cast when we all got drunk at the bachelor party. . ."

"Hold on, I need to work this out," she said, putting her drink on the rail. "The Major told me Donald Penobscot was a Major and Grandpa Trapper helped Hawkeye put him in the body cast."

"Really?" he replied, a sad look coming over his face. "I assure you, Penobscot was a Lieutenant Colonel, and that really made Frank Burns livid with envy. Trapper was gone by the time she met Penobscot. You can look it up in the service records if you want to, I'm sure you could find the Major's without too much trouble."

Maggie took a few moments to ponder, her eyebrows scrunched together. "Oh. I see. Yeah, I'll double check that. . ."

There was an awkward pause before he continued: "How's the Major doing these days?"

"Pretty well, I guess." She sighed. "Well, she has these moments, since Hawkeye died. Confuses people she's known forever, gets the kid's names mixed up. Calls me by my mother's name."

"Oh. Has she had a checkup lately?" Maggie shook her head no. "Well, that's always an awkward topic to bring up. It was like that for Peg's dad in Oklahoma: if they'd confronted him about his mental deterioration sooner, he might not have had that accident. Keep an eye on her, Maggie. These old folks can be good at hiding their true state."

"Yes, I'm sure." There was another awkward pause, and she sipped her drink again. "So tell me about the pranks you used to pull."

"How could you ever think I'd pull a prank on anyone?" A devious grin spread across his face and his eyes twinkled. "Don't I look like a trustworthy guy?"

"Hawkeye told me too much. There was one prank he wouldn't talk about: the last one. Do you remember?"

"Oh yes, I sure do. Wasn't that long ago, back in 1990, the last time they traveled cross country. You were staying with your friend Justine in Martha's Vinyard and they were in South Dakota. . ."

***

There were lots of people bustling around the Wall Drug store in South Dakota on a late July morning in 1990. Hawkeye and Margaret Pierce sat in the dining room eating their lunch as the hubbub played around them. "I don't get what you see in this place," she complained.

"It's Americana, Margaret. Look at all this, only in this country could all this panorama of Western Civilization be here as a pilgrimage place for all to experience."

"It's a dump, full of useless stuff, paying tribute to place where people came to hide from civilization."

"Wait until you see the stuffed bear."

Margaret shook her head. "You're still just a kid at heart. We should have brought Maggie and Justine with us."

"It would have been fun, but not as much fun as we've had without them." He waggled his eyebrows flirtatiously. "The only time we've had to behave is when we stayed with Radar and Patty. Although they've had a lot of fun over the years; who'd of thought shy, meek little Radar would father nine children?"

She hit her husband on the arm hard enough to make him wince. "You're incorrigible. I was glad they found each other after the war and settled down together. It was a romantic story of them meeting in the Tokyo airport when he was on his way back to the 4077 and she was on her way back to Lancaster, Missouri. Love stories don't happen like that often enough."

Hawkeye smiled as he rubbed his arm. "Yeah, just like our little love story. Hey, I think there's going to be a welt" 

"Oh, how I love you." A small boy zoomed by, with an older brother and parents in hot pursuit. "Radar was disappointed we didn't bring Maggie and Justine, but he understood; it was good to see him, his farm and family. The long trip to Iowa would have bored the girls to tears." They took a few more bites of their meal and people watched. "The girls would have found Music Man museum in Mason City fun, but it was nice to dance the night away at the Surf Ballroom in Clear Lake and not worry about the time. Why the hell we had to drive to those two little towns of Manly and Fertile late at night I'll never know."

Haweye smiled: "It seemed like the thing to do. Why would anybody put two little towns like that in northern Iowa? Good thing they're separated by about fifteen miles."

"Yeah, they might have grown more together. At least we could have seen them in the daylight." They chuckled and ate a little more. Margaret looked wistfully at the children and continued. "It'll be good to see Mount Rushmore again, I haven't been there since I was in high school."

"I'm sure Maggie's having a great time with the Winchesters; she always does. She hardly said goodbye when she trooped out the door with Justine, and she's hardly said hello every time we've called her."

Margaret laughed. "All right, we'll continue this little adventure without her. What'cha got in mind for tonight, big boy?"

"A night under the stars in the beautiful Black Hills. We've got a campground all to ourselves, as well as a tent and sleeping bags."

"What about bears?"

"I'll chase them off. I'm not sharing you."

They found their campground south of Rapid City in the early afternoon, and hiked around after setting their tent up. A nice fire under the stars worked a special magic, and when the embers died, they shared a sleeping bag.

The early dawn was broken by the sound of a helicopter. As it approached the site, a loudspeaker boomed out: "Rise and whine, 4077. Choppers on both upper and lower pads, plenty for everybody. Up and at 'em."

As the chopper set down, Hawkeye bounded naked from the tent, his penis at full staff and bouncing wildly as he ran forward. Margaret followed at his heels, pulling a flimsy floral robe around her to hide her bare form. They looked around confused as the chopper discharged one figure before leaping back into the heavens, adeptly dodging the spiny hills as it rose out of sight.

"Hawkeye, Margaret. How good to see you again, and so much of you!" B. J. Hunnicutt chortled as he sprinted up to the campsite.

Margaret fumbled the robe around her and Hawkeye's face turned red as his erection quickly faded. "You son of a bitch!" he shouted. "You son of a bitch! How the hell did you find us up here?"

"Would you believe I'm psychic?"

"No," Margaret said sullenly. "Someone must have snitched."

"Yes, you've been keeping your wereabouts pretty well known in certain places. I've been keeping up with Charles, and it just so happened I was able to come ahead and join you."

"You wish," Margaret said.

"So to speak." He chortled, a broad grin on his face. "Aren't you getting cold, Hawk?"

He looked down and remembered his nudity. "I'll be back," he snarled as he dove back into the tent.

"So does Peg know you're out invading people's privacy?" Margaret said with a blank look on her face.

"She's over in Custer, probably still asleep. It took everything I could muster to get here and hire that helicopter yesterday to fly in here at daybreak."

"And how did you know we'd be here?"

"A few phone calls, a few contacts. An old buddy of mine runs a campground over by Deadwood, so it was pretty easy to find you here. I knew you'd be in this area, and you couldn't resist stopping at Mount Rushmore, so it wasn't too hard."

Hawkeye emerged from the tent wearing a sweatshirt and jeans. "I give it to you, B. J., this is bigger than anything you pulled in Korea. Better than the prank that never came."

B. J. scratched his chin. "I don't know, I rather think that was my finest moment, although I didn't see as much of you that night in the Mess tent." Margaret turned sharply and went back into her tent. "Let me make it up to you. We'll have breakfast in Custer, and I'll give you a helicopter ride around the area, including a view of Mount Rushmore you won't see from the park."

"You think you can talk that pilot into two trips? He'll take us up again after you talked him into this dangerous stunt this morning?"

"I've always been persuasive."

***

"We had a great time in South Dakota," B. J. continued. "Peg always enjoyed being around Hawkeye and Margaret, and after they got over their anger at my coitus interruptus, things went well. Hawk even won a poker tournament in Deadwood, which I'm sure he never forgot. When they got to the coast, we had a glorious two weeks together."

"He bragged about that tournament all the way up to the end. That stupid little trophy's still sitting on the mantlepiece in Maine. He was still talking about it the last time I saw him. Before the end."

Maggie finished her drink and sat back in her chair, thoughtful. Her phone made a noise, and she picked it up to look at the screen. "Penny for your thoughts," B. J. asked.

"Text from the Major. Wondered how we're doing. I told her I was coming over here this afternoon."

"Tell her we're doing fine."

She chuckled and typed a few characters. "I told her we're laying low and having a drink. Benny's out fishing with his uncle Alvin this afternoon. Must run in the family, he never wanted to fish before he came to Maine."

"I guess some things run deep in a family. All my kids are in the medical profession, and most of my grandchildren. They also play tricks on each other, and I have to keep my eyes open when they come to visit."

"Oh? And what have they done to you?"

"Oh, nothing as dramatic as the night Hawk put me in a cot in the Nurses' tent, stapled the sheets to the frame, and had the announcer call an emergency the next morning."

"Oh that's pretty good, I never heard that one before. So you weren't always the perpetrator?"

"What can I say? I had Hawkeye and Charles at each other's throats before they figured it out. Boy, they got back at me."

Maggie quaked and jiggled as she giggled, and B. J. smiled to himself. "I need to hear some more of these stories," Maggie said after her spasm of glee passed. "Hawkeye told me bits and pieces and the Major said less. I imagine if someone put my groom in a body cast on my wedding day, I'd be a bit reluctant to say much about it." An airplane buzzed overhead, and a bird stirred nearby. "I remember spending a summer in Iowa, either '94 or '95, Justine and I. We had a great time with the O'Reilly clan; it was like we were part of the huge family for two months. Can't believe Radar was ever shy, he still treated Patty like a high school girlfriend. Their kids just rolled their eyes at the public displays of affection and ignored it."

B. J. chuckled, and said: "Did he ever say what you were going to say just before you said it?"

"What?"

"Nothing."

B. J. looked down at the floor for a few long moments, and Maggie stood up to put a hand on his shoulder. "What are you thinking, Uncle B. J.?"

He looked down. "I'm thinking we need to make another pitcher of Martinis."

She stood up and collected the pitcher. "Agreed. I'll take care of it."

"Can I trust you? I haven't met anyone other than Hawkeye who knew how to mix a martini in my league."

Maggie put her hands to her side, like she was reciting in a classroom: "I'd like a dry martini, Mr. Quoc, a very dry martini. A very dry, arid, barren, desiccated, veritable dustbowl of a martini. I want a martini that could be declared a disaster area. Mix me just such a martini."

He smiled. "Good. You're close."

"I'm pursuing my lifelong quest for the perfect, the absolutely driest martini to be found in this or any other world. And I think I may have hit upon the perfect formula. You pour six jiggers of gin, and you drink it while staring at a picture of Lorenzo Schwartz, the inventor of vermouth."

He laughed and nodded. "All right, you pass the Martini Catechism. Hawkeye trained you well. Of course you may make us a pitcher of martinis. Glad to see the tradition's being carried on."