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Light is just starting to streak the sky when Peg wakes up on the morning of her anniversary, the birds singing in the trees outside as the sun breaks over the horizon, a cool spring breeze rustling the curtains and making her curl closer to BJ, half-asleep though she is.
It still seems so unbelievable that he’s here, and not half a world away anymore, breathing softly next to her, his body putting out heat like a furnace.
Peg is happy to inch closer to him, a whole perfect day stretching out ahead of them the way the sunlight is starting to stretch across the sky.
The whole week has been full of temperamental weather, pouring rain one day and bitterly cold the next, but she can already picture today – and it’s going to be beautiful.
It’s going to be perfect, if she has anything to say about it.
She owes it to BJ, to put the past two anniversaries behind them, to come out of the dark night hand in hand, stronger and still together.
She couldn’t make the last two anniversaries anything better than tolerable for either of them, but this, this is something she can do.
“Honey,” BJ mumbles from beside her, nearly making her jump out of her skin. “You’re thinking too loud.”
“I am not.”
“You are too. Can practically hear the gears turning.”
“Oh shut up.”
BJ chuckles, a sleepy exhalation that ruffles her hair, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her in. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”
“Happy anniversary, darling,” Peg says, reaching up to kiss him, feeling the bristle of his stubble against her lips. “Oh. You’re all scratchy.”
He grins at her, finally opening his eyes. “Morning breath.”
“Call it even.”
He yawns. “Sure.”
Peg giggles, her mind already wandering ahead to the delightful possibilities of the next half hour, feeling like a couple of college kids as she tugs BJ back in for a kiss, running her fingers through his hair, his mouth on hers.
“Peggy,” he says, a little breathlessly, pulling away. “God.”
“God? Quite the promotion there, BJ. I always knew I'd make it big someday.”
BJ practically rolls on top of her, pinning her to the bed, grinning down at her. “You’ve got quite the mouth on you.”
“And I know how to use it,” she says, a little breathlessly, squirming under his weight as he grins down at her, his hips pinning her in place.
“Is that any way for a married woman to talk?”
“Get fucked,” she says, laughing a little, trying to kick him.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the love of my life,” BJ proclaims.
“Would you just kiss me already?”
“Ah, this is a household of equality, Mrs. Hunnicutt. Nothing stopping you from kissing me.”
“I’m going to kick you if- mph!”
She’s cut off by BJ doing as promised, leaning in and kissing her, his fingers working at the hem of her nightgown, ghosting along the inside of her thigh, and Peg arcs up into his fingers, sighing a little in anticipation-
And then there’s a knock at the door.
BJ rolls off of Peg so fast, it’s almost like the building is on fire, his face red, his bedhead even more prominent than before, as Peg hastily tugs her nightgown back down, muttering a breathless “Goddamn it.”
She’d forgotten this part – the one very clear difference from when they were college kids – but she sticks her head up over the top of the duvet.
“Come in!” BJ calls.
The door opens, and Erin is standing there, clutching her stuffed elephant and looking miserable.
“Hey baby,” BJ says, with a remarkable amount of calm for a man who’s just had his coitus interrupted. “It’s early.”
“Scratchy,” Erin says, and Peg almost smiles to herself, but Erin sounds hoarse.
“Oh, darling, come here,” Peg says, patting the edge of the bed.
Erin walks over, climbing onto the bed, letting BJ press a hand to her forehead.
“She is a little warm,” he remarks, his brow furrowing with anxiety. “Should we call Dr. Spalding?”
“No, I think it’s just a little fever. But we’ll keep an eye on it, won’t we baby?”
Erin nods, looking tired, but it's BJ who looks really worried.
“Kids run hot anyway,” she assures him. “She used to spike fevers all the time as a baby.”
“And you didn’t worry?”
“Well. I called Dr. Spalding the first four or five times – I think I wore out the phone line between here and downtown – but he said little kids run hot and to worry only if it got above a certain temp.”
“Sure.”
“It’ll be fine,” Peg says softly, the weight of the years hanging heavy in the space between them, before she turns to Erin. “It’ll be right as rain soon enough, baby. You wanna go back to bed?”
“Wanna cuddle.”
“Sure. Whoopsy-daisy,” she says, rolling Erin into the space between them, her little body warm.
Peg brushes the sweaty hair from Erin’s forehead and presses a kiss to it, feeling an overwhelming sense of affection for her daughter, this little extension of her and BJ, proof that they were here, that they did something right.
She’s absolutely perfect.
“How about a story, baby?” BJ asks.
“Yes please, story."
“Okay. How about this… once upon a time… a long, long time ago… there lived a young man named Androcles...”
Peg meets BJ’s gaze over Erin’s head, and smiles.
God, she thinks, he’s perfect too.
It’s a beautiful day, the sun sinking in the direction of the horizon as they race it up the coast, the radio playing love songs as they drive towards Stinson Beach.
BJ wanted so badly for today to go perfectly.
Peg is singing along off-key to the radio, her hair fluttering in the breeze from the open window, wearing one of her best dresses, and BJ can’t help glancing over at her ever so often, in the guise of checking his mirrors.
She looks even more beautiful than she did the day they met, laugh lines more prominent around her eyes, a bridge of freckles on her nose, and a certain wisdom, a certain confidence that has never wavered in all the years he’s known her.
He wanted today to go perfectly, because he owes it to her.
He owes everything to her.
The way she stepped up and ran their household for two years, raised their daughter on her own, doing a job that should never have been asked of her and doing it wonderfully.
She is the strongest woman he knows, and she deserves perfection.
He has two years of anniversaries to make up for, and he wanted so badly to do it today.
Of course, Erin’s fever had thrown a wrench in their plans – though he hadn’t had much planned today anyway – and although he feels a twinge of guilt for leaving her with Peg’s parents, he reasons that it’ll only be a few hours.
Today – tonight – is just for them.
“You still won’t tell me where we’re having dinner, will you?” BJ calls over the sound of the breeze from the open window.
“And spoil the surprise?”
“Withholding information. Typical realtor.”
Peg nudges his arm, laughing. “That’s your diagnosis? You’re getting rusty there, Hippocrates.”
“No, I know a classic case of withholding information when I see it. I’ve been honest with you.”
“The first rule of medicine is ‘do no harm’… and keep your damn eyes on the road!”
BJ laughs, turning back to the empty stretch of highway in front of them – but after a second, he hears a loud knocking sound from the engine, and frowns.
“You hear that too, right?” Peg asks.
“… Yeah.”
“Maybe we better-”
“Pull over?”
“Yeah.”
BJ pulls onto the shoulder of the road, hearing the crunch of gravel beneath the tires.
“Sounds like it’s coming from the engine,” Peg says. “There’s a toolbox in the trunk.”
“Peg-”
Before he can say anything else, she’s out of the car.
BJ sighs, resting his head on the steering wheel for a second, frustrated.
The fates just aren’t in his favour today, he thinks wryly, joining Peg outside the car as she tries to wrench the hood up.
“Need a hand?”
“Stand back, Puny. I’ve got this.”
BJ holds up his hands in surrender as Peg finally gets the hood open, bending over the engine, a tendril of hair spilling over her shoulder, and sending a waft of honeysuckle shampoo in his direction.
“It used to make this sound sometimes when I would drive it places,” Peg explains tugging off the cardigan she’s wearing over her dress, hanging it over the side mirror. “Sometimes it went away on its own, and sometimes it didn’t.”
“Any advice?”
“You’re the diagnostician,” she says innocently.
“It just sounds like something came loose.”
“A safe bet.” Peg tugs a ribbon from the front pocket of her dress, tying her hair back as she surveys the engine. “The real question is… what is it this time?”
BJ loves watching her puzzle out a question, her brow furrowed in thought, but…
“What time are our dinner reservations?”
She checks her watch, a battered silver relic that once belonged to her grandfather. "In an hour."
“So if we turned around as soon as we got the car fixed…”
“We still wouldn't make it. I expect it’ll take a while. Darling, grab the toolbox, would you?”
“I’m sorry,” BJ says, a little helplessly. “It wasn’t making that sound yesterday… I wish…”
“If wishes were horses, beggars would ride,” Peg says automatically as she fiddles with something in the engine, one of her folksy sayings that makes her sound like a grandmother, and BJ laughs, still embarrassed. “Don’t worry about the dinner reservations.”
“I do worry.”
She looks up, confused, a smudge of engine grease on her fingers, and as she brushes her hair out of the way, she leaves the smudge of engine grease on her cheek. “Why?”
“I just… I wanted today to be perfect.”
She smiles a little, rolling her eyes affectionately. “Grab the toolbox. We can grab tacos in Sausalito.”
“Where were we going to eat, anyway?"
“You’re going to laugh.”
“Peg?”
She turns a pretty shade of pink, one that makes him want to kiss her. “The Top of the Mark.”
“Oh. Well. That’s uh… that’s too bad.”
“It is and it isn’t.”
“Why not?”
“Honestly? I don’t really like their food. I just thought it would be nice for a special occasion.”
“I don’t like their food either,” BJ admits, grinning. “But tacos?”
“It’ll be like our first date. Now grab the toolbox, would you? I want to get to Stinson, and I’d like to do it before midnight, preferably.”
BJ smiles, heading around to the trunk to grab the toolbox, hearing Peg swear loudly from the front of the car as she hits her head on the hood, grinning to himself.
She’s perfect, he thinks. And all his.
By the time they make it to Stinson Beach, the sun is low on the horizon, the golden light reflecting on the ocean, the sky streaked with orange and pink as the sun sets.
“Oh, it’s gorgeous,” Peg breathes, as she steps onto the sand, kicking off her shoes as she turns to BJ. “Isn’t it?”
“Beautiful,” he says, his voice full of reverence, and Peg blushes, getting the impression that he’s not talking about the sunset.
“Did you bring the radio?”
“I did.”
“Good.”
BJ fiddles with the small portable radio for a second as Peg sits down in the sand, letting her skirts spread out around her, and then he joins her, the tinny sound of big band music issuing from the radio.
The golden light of sunset has cast BJ in amber, making him look just like the fresh-faced college kid he was when they got married, and Peg reaches for his hand.
“I love you.”
He grins, stretching out his legs, his voice barely audible above the pounding of the surf. “I love you too.”
“It was a good day, wasn’t it?”
This is an attempt at comedy – she’s seen how BJ can spiral when small things go wrong, a delightful trait only amplified by his time in Korea – but his brow furrows all the same as he looks down at their intertwined fingers.
“I’m sorry, Peg.”
“Why?”
“I…” he shrugs. “I wanted to give you a perfect day.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“Am I?”
“Yes, but… I’m ridiculous too, because I wanted to give you the perfect day.”
“I just…” BJ looks pained, glancing out at the sunset. “Two years of anniversaries I wasn’t here for. Two years of the hardest times we ever had to endure.”
“Makes you think the rest has to be easy.”
He chuckles, eyeing her. “You would say that.”
“It’s called faith, darling. And I’m glad you think I deserved a perfect day, but… it was imperfect. And I loved it.”
“Really?”
“Sure, dinner at the Top of the Mark would’ve been nice, but I never needed the fancy trappings. Not when we were twenty-four, and not now.”
“You really think that?”
“I know that.”
“I was going to take you dancing,” BJ says wistfully, tipping his head back as he looks up at the sunset, and Peg aches at the nostalgia in his voice. “We haven’t done that in years.”
She squeezes his hand. “I’d have loved that.”
“A nice dinner, dancing… a perfect day.” And then he turns and looks at her. “To make up for all the imperfect ones.”
“Even the imperfect ones were perfect,” she assures him. “Every day since you’ve been home, no matter how unholy of a mess it’s been… you came home, BJ. It makes everything perfect.”
“I know it hasn’t always been perfect-”
“Are you listening to me? It doesn’t matter. Marriage isn’t going to be a string of perfect days, and anyone who tells you otherwise is selling you a bridge. It’s how you react to the imperfect days that matter. And that makes the perfect days sweeter.”
BJ smiles, a little wistfully as he tugs a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “Terrifyingly pragmatic, that’s my Peg.”
“And besides,” she says, standing up, dusting the sand from her skirts as she gestures to the radio, holding out a hand. “I think this is the finest dance hall in California.”
“Awfully forward, asking a married man to dance,” BJ teases, looking up at her like she hung the stars, set the sun on its course. “What will your husband say?”
“I don’t think he’ll mind.”
BJ takes her hand, pulling himself to his feet, and the sound of the radio in the sand echoes out across the water as they start to dance, swaying slowly back and forth.
“Peg?”
“Yes, darling?”
BJ leans down and kisses her. “Happy anniversary.”
She smiles into his mouth, painfully content as he rests his forehead against hers. “Happy anniversary.”
It wasn’t a perfect day.
And yet, Peg thinks to herself, it was.