(Author's Note: I hadn't intended to do another one of these, but this just felt like a natural sequel. It's dedicated to all of you who liked the first one and told me so; I hope this one's just as entertaining.)
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Bedtime Story II
"Can I hear another story about Mashland, Daddy? You said you'd tell me another one…"
Damn her good memory, B.J. thought, but yeah, he had promised her. So much for the hospital paperwork he was hoping to get caught up on. "OK, honey," he said as he sat on the bed next to her. He took a moment to gather his thoughts, but he knew exactly what story he wanted to tell… he knew exactly what person he wanted his daughter to hear about. She waited patiently as he sorted through the long-ago incident in his head.
"Once upon a time, in a place far away from here," he began softly, "there was a tiny village called Mashland. The village had a priest, Father Francis, who was the kindest, sweetest soul you'd ever want to meet. He was everything you would expect from a spiritual man, gentle and loving, but he could also be very persuasive and tough when the situation called for it. He was no pushover, even though he rather looked it. He had an open, honest face… an expression that might give you the impression he was too trusting, too naïve. But believe me when I tell you, he knew the way of the world. He understood people better than just about anyone else in the village."
"And everyone liked him?" Erin asked. This always seemed to be a big issue with her, whether or not people were well-liked. B.J. had a feeling his daughter was going to grow up to be some kind of champion of the underdog. A social worker, perhaps… or maybe an attorney for the downtrodden.
"Everyone loved him," he assured her with a smile. "He was a special man, a terrific man. But one day, he found himself in quite a pickle, and it was going to really test his mettle."
"Huh?"
"It's an expression. It means he was in a tough situation and he would have to be strong and brave to get through it."
"What happened to him, Daddy?"
"Well, it was more something that happened to somebody else. Father Francis was in a car with his friend Walter, and they were transporting an injured man back to the village. At first everything was fine, but before they got to the village, the injured man began to have a serious problem. He suddenly couldn't breathe."
Erin gasped and B.J. wondered for a fleeting moment if this story was a mite too scary for her. But then again, don't all fairy tales have some element of horror to them? Evil stepmothers and poisoned apples and whatnot. He shrugged to himself and tried not to dwell on the fright factor too much. "Father Francis and Walter pulled the car over right away… they knew they were going to have to act quickly to save the injured man's life. The only problem was, neither one of them had any kind of medical experience."
"What did they do?" Erin asked, her eyes wide.
"They had a phone, and they called the doctors back at the village. They explained that their passenger was unable to breathe, and what did the doctors think they should do? Oh boy, the doctors could hear the fear in their voices. It was a very serious situation. But they understood right away what needed to be done. The injured man was going to have to get a tube put into his throat, so he could breathe again. There was no other way to solve this."
"Yuck!"
"I know, pretty yucky. Even though Father Francis had absolutely no experience performing any kind of medical procedure, he was going to have to cut a slit into this man's throat. And he was mighty scared about it, Erin."
"I would be too, Daddy!"
"You bet. Most people would be scared by something like that. He asked, 'Do you really think we can?' But what choice did they have? It had to be done. To make matters even worse, there was a lot of noise going on all around him, it was a loud and scary place to be, on top of the already bad situation with the passenger. But you know what? The doctors back at the village gave Father Francis step-by-step instructions on what to do, and even though he was terrified and unsure of himself, he forced himself to do it. He carefully made the cut in the man's neck, just like the doctors told him to, and then he inserted the tube… and voila! The man was able to breathe again! Father Francis saved his life!"
Erin's face lit up. "Hooray!"
"Hooray is right. Everyone in the village was so proud of Father Francis. And I'm sure he was proud of himself, though I doubt he'd ever admit that out loud." B.J. ran a hand through his daughter's hair and tucked the blanket around her shoulders. "Do you know what the moral of the story is, Erin?"
"It's OK to be scared?"
B.J. nodded, "That's part of it. It's OK to be scared―everyone gets scared every now and then. But even when you are scared, you can still find strength inside you to do what you need to do. Feel the fear, but don't let it stop you from doing whatever is frightening you. Does that make sense?"
She nodded and blinked a few times, and he took that to mean she was inching closer to sleep. Mission accomplished. "…And Father Francis and Walter and everyone else in the village lived happily ever after. And you know what? So did that injured man, all because Father Francis had the courage to get past his fear."
"The end?" Erin asked sleepily.
"You bet the end."
"Good story, Daddy, thank you."
"You're welcome. Now get some sleep, OK? Goodnight, sweetie."
"Nighty night."
He stood and switched off her bedroom light, stepped quietly out the door.
In his study, he reached into his desk drawer and took out an old, worn photograph of himself, Hawkeye, and Father Mulcahy. He stared at it for a long time, not moving, barely breathing… wanting to remember and wanting to forget all at the same time.
Finally he tore his eyes away, blinked back tears, and carefully placed the photo in the drawer again. Fairy tales end happily by definition. Real life's a lot more complicated.