When Charles got off the train, he was met by a stranger whom he recognized instantly.  Pierce had never been one to pester the residents of the Swamp with family photos in the manner of Hunnicutt; but his wallet had held a small contact print of his father, and he certainly talked of him enough.  As for Crabapple Cove, mention of Pierce’s home town had, of course, been ubiquitous to the point of tedium:  Charles would finally be able to see how the place measured up.  Meanwhile, he shook Daniel Pierce’s hand and made the expected polite comments.  “Pierce—I mean Hawkeye—isn’t with you?” he asked, once again reminding himself that, with two Doctors Pierce, it would be necessary to use the nickname.

“Oh, he’s coming,” Daniel assured him.  “Just tied up in Portland.  What the details are, I don’t know.  It was a hurried call, and long distance, you know.”

“A case.”  It would be.

“Isn’t it always?”  Dr. Pierce Senior smiled easily at him.  Both of them, Charles thought, would be equally familiar with Pierce—Hawkeye’s—devotion to duty.  Medical duty, that is to say:  he had never paid much recognition to the army’s notions of duty.  One of the few things Charles and … Hawkeye … had in common.  Both wanted to shed olive drab and get home where they belonged.

Different notions of home, of course.

They traipsed out to the parked car—a surprisingly almost-recent model—and Charles put his overnight case in the trunk.  He then found the door wasn’t locked, which would never have been true in Boston, and settled in the seat beside his host.  “Now, we aren’t in Crabapple Cove itself yet,” he said, as Daniel turned the key in the ignition.  “Am I right?  The name on the station was different.  You’re a few miles away?”

“It’s a rural practice mostly,” said Daniel with a nod, and started the car.  “When Hawkeye came home, he said he wanted to join me as a family doctor—not that I really needed the help, at least not yet.  I’m not over the hill quite,” he added good-humouredly, “whatever my son claimed to think.”  He turned his head briefly to smile at his passenger.  “When the right time came, he left readily.  Even eagerly.”  His attention returned to the road.  “Not without a backward glance, I hope; but he never was cut out for Crabapple Cove really, whatever he thought when he was in Korea.  I knew that, even if it took him a while to realize it himself again.”

Charles grunted an acknowledgement of the truth of the observation.  A “crackerjack cutter”—in the slovenly parlance of the Army Medical Corps—would find his true talents pretty well useless in rural general practice.  Not for the first time, he thought it a pity that Pierce … Hawkeye … hadn’t decided to get a job in Boston.  Perhaps at another hospital, for Charles could see that his old colleague might not want to work in the same department with himself there as a living reminder of the years in Korea.  However, Hawkeye had trained in Boston; so the city must be quite familiar to him.  Then again … that would mean more memories he might prefer to forget.

“How’s he settling down in Portland?” Charles ventured.

Daniel paused before answering, his attention on a tight upcoming curve in the road.  “It’s within driving distance,” he finally said.  “He comes for weekends, holidays, that sort of thing.  I get the impression he’s having a bit of difficulty fitting back again into a traditional hospital; but, compared to joining my practice, he’s getting more satisfaction there from the actual work itself that’s he’s doing.”

“Sounds about right.”

Daniel ventured another side glance.  “Of course, you know him well.”

Trees flashed past on both sides of the road.  “In very different circumstances,” said Charles circumspectly.  They’d clashed more often than not.  (How could he forget?)  But that had been in Korea, not here.  Somehow, now they were both back in the “good ol’ U.S. of A.”, the differences seemed almost petty.  The two of them had the 4077th in common, and always would.

“You were in the First World War, I believe?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Daniel.  “More or less the sort of job you two had in Korea, I suppose, though more medical than surgical.”  He slowed the car and pulled to the side at the top of a rise.

There was no turn-off, nor had they yet entered a town.  Charles looked at him, puzzled.

“Have a look-see, everyone does.”  Daniel jerked his head towards his own side window.  Twisting to get a view past him, Charles suddenly realized that there was a clear drop-off between the trees, and the ocean could be seen in the gap.  A local beauty spot, obviously.  And in a deepened bend in the road, he realized.  Lovers’ Lane, perhaps?  It was clear that parking had been deliberately provided so that time could be taken to appreciate the view.

It was a very pretty seascape.  Typical of New England; and, as a native of the region, Charles was not unfamiliar with the essential components.  He might be from Boston; but holidays had always taken the Winchesters out of the city.  Once upon a time, as a little boy, he had filled his pockets with sea shells from the beach.  As a matter of course, he’d been expected to learn to swim and sail; and he had suffered more than his fair share of family picnics.  Dutifully, he got out of the car.  The day was sunny.  The sea was blue, with little whitecaps on the waves.  “You’ll get a better view from our house,” Daniel called, “but not from the same height.  We’re pretty well down near the beach, just a short ways out of Crabapple Cove itself.”

“Hawkeye said,” Charles murmured, and returned to the car.

Daniel shifted gear and continued the drive.  “The road goes through town,” he said, “so you’ll get a quick look at that too before we get home.”

“Fireworks by the pond, as I recall from Hawkeye’s letter,” Charles said.

“On the day, yes.”

It was, of course, a small town.  Charles noted a “Main Street” of small shops and the steeple of a white church; and then they were through and driving out the other side.

“I’m surprised, really, that you aren’t spending the holiday with family,” Daniel put in.

“If they were at our summer home on Nantucket, I would be,” said Charles.  “But my parents are in Europe and my sister visiting friends.”

“I’m sorry,” said Daniel, a bit uncertainly.

“Not at all,” replied Charles.  “I’m visiting friends myself, aren’t I?”

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