Chapter One

The compound was eerily quiet as Francis Mulcahy made his way from Post Op to his own tent, fighting the emotions that were running through him. He'd spent the majority of the afternoon and evening visiting the wounded soldiers. Everything had been fine until he'd come to the last soldier. He was thin with little to almost no hair, though what was there was light brown. After introducing himself to the young man, Father Mulcahy had sat down next to the cot and let the young man talk; and talk the young man did.

"I never knew my father," Private Miller said as he turned his head and looked at his comrades who were in Post Op with him, "like they do." He turned his face towards Father Mulcahy. "Before our regiment was attacked, the guys were laughing and talking about their fathers, then wanted to know about mine. I had nothing to tell them, so I quickly came up with an excuse and left. Sounds bad only I'm sort of glad we were hit when we were. Is that horrible or what?" the young soldier looked at the priest before him with such guilt in his eyes that Father Mulcahy wanted to reach out and remove it for good.

"No, it doesn't. You were spared the humiliation of telling something you didn't want them to know. I'd say it was a natural reaction, my son."

Andrew drew in a breath and continued talking. "Mother would never talk about him. That is, she'd only say he was a very good man who did his best to live the way he should. She said she left him, not the other way round. The only other thing I ever got from her was a first name. I don't get that. If he was such a good man, why did she leave him? It doesn't make sense."

Father Mulcahy felt his heart skip a beat as he thought on the many experiences he'd had; actually on one particular experience. It was all he could do to answer with a tone that wouldn't send off any "warning signals". "There are times life is like that. Sometimes, we just have to wait to understand; sometimes, we never do." He was surprised when the private before him started chuckling. Father Mulcahy hadn't thought what he said was so funny.

When Private Miller stopped chuckling, he explained what had caused him to laugh. "My mother was always saying the same thing, told me not to worry about it and to just let it go. She was a good woman." His voice lowered a notch.

"Was?" Father Mulcahy felt himself stiffen ever so slightly. Cautiously, he ventured to ask, "She has passed on?"

"Passed away last year after a freak car accident," came the barely audible answer. Again, Father Mulcahy felt his heart go out to the wounded soldier. "Just before dying," the soldier sighed, "she said "Lyle, I never stopped loving you. Please, forgive me." Anger filled the young man's voice as he cried out in anguish, "Forgive her? My mother might not be a saint father, but like I said, she was a good woman. She worked hard and taught me the best she could." The young man's tears flowed.

Father Mulcahy opened the door to his tent and stepped inside. Only when he was alone did he sit down and let his tears flow. The young man's story hit too close to home as Father Mulcahy thought on his own past. His tears might have continued flowing only a knock came on the door. Not knowing who was knocking on his door, the good priest hurried and wiped his eyes and then let his guest in…which turned out to be Colonel Potter.

"I thought you'd be in bed." Father Mulcahy said as he sat down on his cot while Colonel Potter pulled up the chair that Francis had sitting in the tent.

A smile full appeared on Sherman's face while concern filled his eyes. "I would be only I happened to see a good friend walking through the compound looking very troubled. I might not have thought a thing about it only he was doing the same thing this afternoon." By the way Father Mulcahy stiffened Sherman T Potter knew he'd struck gold with the comment. "What's wrong?" he leaned forward a bit and talked with the reassuring tone he always used when dealing with matters he thought might be of a sensitive nature.

What was wrong? Father Mulcahy fought to keep tears from falling again as a bit of his past rolled in front of his eyes for the umpteenth time. Especially since he could still see the anguish in Private Miller's face. "Have you ever put something behind you only to find yourself facing it all over again later down the road?" He looked at Colonel Potter with the same look the good colonel had seen before.

"I'd say you haven't really put it behind you if it still bothers you. Want to talk about it?"

Father Mulcahy's shoulders slumped slightly. "It" was something he'd never told anyone, something that he both regretted and held close to his heart. It was his secret that kept him from publicly chastising anyone else for their faults or weakness. After all, a man can hardly judge the mote that is another person's eyes when they, themselves, had a beam in theirs.

"Yes and no," Father Mulcahy stood up and walked to his door and turned around. "Does that make sense?" The moment the question was out of his mouth, Francis Mulcahy wanted to laugh, but he didn't. He couldn't without making his dear friend curious and he knew his vows meant he wouldn't talk about Private Miller and their conversation.

"It sure does, but I have all night if you need it." Sherman did too. Out of all the men and women in his unit, Father Mulcahy held a special place in the colonel's heart. Okay, they all held a spot, but at the moment Father Mulcahy's spot had been moved up front.

After a moment of silence, Father Mulcahy slowly nodded. Maybe it was time to tell his story.