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He’d been home from Korea for five years. Hawkeye, who had been forced to stick it out until the very end had been home for three. After Trapper had been allowed reprieve from olive drabness, meatball surgery, and powdered eggs, he and Hawkeye still wrote. Or tried to.
Trapper and Louise discovered quickly an “arrangement” only worked when they were both away. But when they were together again, jealousies reared ugly heads and old ways were difficult to put aside. They tried. No one could say they didn’t.
Trapper wrote Hawkeye of the good times with Louise and the girls. He dare not write of their struggles. He knew once he opened that door, all the things he wanted to say to Hawkeye, all the “I miss you’s,” “I love you’s,” “I need you’s” would come tumbling out. And he couldn’t save one marriage while continuing on with what felt like another long distance.
In the end, he could not save his marriage at all.
The war had been over a year by the time Trapper and Louise finalized the divorce papers. Hawkeye had been home a year. His letters to Hawk became fewer and further between.
Trapper had been confiding in Dr. Sidney Freeman long distance. Sidney was sympathetic, even understanding. He was also a realist. "You need time to heal from many wounds, Trapper. Running to Hawkeye if neither of you is prepared will only cause more pain." Sidney wrote.
After the divorce, Hawk still wrote Trapper. “Come to Crabapple Cove when you get a chance, Trap. We can catch up. I miss you, you big lug.”
“I miss you, too.” Trapper would whisper to letters he knew would go unanswered.
Two years had passed without word from Hawkeye. He’d eventually given up quietly, uncharacteristically for Hawkeye, who fought for everything.
Trapper was packing his office to move to California and start over. Louise had taken the girls to Ohio to live with her parents. There was nothing left on the East Coast for him anymore. As he sorted his in-box one last time, he spotted an invitation to a conference in Boston. Dr. Charles Emerson Winchester III and Dr. Benjamin Franklin Pierce were to present their paper on aortic resections while in a Mobile Army Surgical Hospital in Korea.
Hawkeye had written Trapper about Dr. Winchester. An arrogant blowhard, but one of the best cardiovascular surgeons in the field. “Better than either of us, Trap, and you know I mean it when I say that.”
He paused over the invitation. The folks in California weren’t expecting him for another 3 weeks. This could be an opportunity to tell Hawkeye good-bye, or hello, or please-don’t-ever-let-me-go-again.
Against his better judgment he had his secretary make the arrangements for an overnight trip to Boston.
Trapper sat in the back of the auditorium where he was certain Hawkeye couldn't see him from the stage. He wanted to give himself the option of the out. Hawkeye seemed older, and out of place in a suit instead of fatigues or scrubs. Dr. Winchester was a pompous windbag, as predicted. He watched Hawkeye scan the crowd occasionally. Trapper tried not to see young kids, their blood in sharp contrast to the olive drab and white sheets, bleeding out in the the road in a dusty village of Korea as they spoke.
Instead he forced himself to picture Hawkeye dressed as Santa being airlifted to an aid station to save an infantryman. Hawkeye talking him through where to step in a minefield to rescue a child. Hawkeye whispering forbidden words in his ear at inopportune times. Hawkeye on his knees in front of him....
In the Q&A after, Hawkeye stood near the center of the room with Winchester, an untouched martini in one hand. He chatted politely with young doctors and med students. Trapper watched him from the edge still love drunk from his mid-lecture reverie. Hawkeye continued to search the room now and again. Trap became convinced Hawk was searching for him.
He worked his way through clusters of people enjoying the excuse for cocktails in the middle of the day. He had eyes only for his dark haired surgeon. Crabapple Cove would grow on him. Hawk had said years ago, when they first began, his dad would be accepting. They could open a practice together. Teach occasionally like Hawk and Winchester were doing today. He'd been a fool spending the last two years licking old wounds instead of writing back.
Trapper had almost reached the point the two other surgeons were standing. Just another cluster of budding doctors to ease through. He almost reached out to touch Hawk's left sleeve when a blond bombshell in a Class A uniform and high heels appeared before Winchester and Hawkeye.
"Dr. Winchester. Dr. Pierce." she greeted them. Hawkeye smiled the smile that had once been reserved just for Trapper. His blue eyes twinkled in delight.
"Major Houlihan." Winchester and Hawkeye responded.
Hawk silently passed his drink to Winchester. He wrapped his arms around Margaret and dipped her into a deep kiss she did not fight. Trapper sank back into the crowd. "You made it! How long do you have?" Hawk exclaimed when he broke the kiss.
"Only 48 hours. I have to be back at Walter Reid Wednesday evening."
"Long enough."
Winchester cleared his throat.
"Oh, yes," Hawkeye introduced Margaret to the group closest to them. "Gentlemen, may I introduce Major Margaret Houlihan. Finest damn nurse in Korea or stateside...And my bride to be."
It was like a punch the gut. Trap's heart shattered. His world came to a standstill. He experienced every cliche related to heartbreak in that one moment.
He turned toward the exit and walked. Just as he approached the open door, he heard his name spoken by a painfully familiar voice "Trapper?" He didn't pause. "Trap? Trapper John McIntyre!"
Trapper kept walking. California lay before him. Korea lay forever behind.