"...Be Happy"
A/N: My first M*A*S*H fic, set twenty-some years post-GF&A. That's a lot of time, so I decided that I liked Beth Mott's account so much of the crew's lives as of 1963 (http://www.geocities.com/beth_mott/reunion.html) that I'd go by it here and just fast-forward ten years, rather than take up time and space thinking of (and explaining) a different account. Thanks again to HM Writer for the inadvertent inspiration, and to iolanthe for the description of the convent in her story. ...Oh, yeah, and what I know about convents, monasteries, etc. could fit in a thimble, so I hope it's not too inaccurate.
Chapter 1: Sister Naomi
The year was 1975, and though he'd been home from Korea for over twenty years, Father Francis John Patrick Mulcahy still wore the same hat, now worn, faded, and slightly misshapen. His face was lined, his glasses thicker, his hair graying, and--of course--part of his hearing was gone (though he wasn't bad at lip-reading after twenty-two years, which helped him quite a bit sometimes), but he strode as energetically as ever along a familiar path--that leading to the entrance of the convent where Sister Maria Angelica--his real-life, blood-relative sister--lived. She had asked him to come at once, but would not tell him why, though she assured him that it was no emergency.
He reached the entrance and removed his hat as a pale young nun--she could not have been more than twenty--escorted him to his sister. As was often the case, his sister was in the convent's central courtyard. Her back was to him, currently bent a bit to water a bed of roses that still bloomed, here in early October. Beside her, kneeling in the bit of dirt at the edge of the bed, was another figure in nun's attire, smaller, listening attentively as Maria Angelica instructed her in the ways of flora.
"Your brother, Sister Maria Angelica," Father Mulcahy's young attendant said cheerily.
The nun turned around. "Francis! I'm so sorry, I was just--" She trailed off as she abandoned the rosebed to greet him.
"That's all right, Katherine," Mulcahy said, calling her by her real name as he embraced her. "That's a lovely rosebed."
"Yes, we've all enjoyed tending it," the Sister replied, speaking loudly, as was of course necessary. "You're looking very well. The bronchitis didn't keep you down for long, I see. I was hoping you'd be well enough to come."
"Oh, that," Mulcahy said dismissively, waving his hand. "Gone days ago. So...what is it that you wanted to tell me?"
"Well, not tell, exactly, but *show*," came the cryptic reply. For the first time, Maria Angelica gestured toward the girl that had been helping her with the flowers. The girl was still kneeling, but was now looking over her shoulder in curiosity at Father Mulcahy. Now he saw her face and realized that she was Korean. She was very pretty, with large eyes that looked poetic even from where he was standing, a short distance away. There was something about her face, though--something different than normal Korean faces--that twitched something in the back of his head. There was something it made him start to remember--but what?
But Maria Angelica continued, distracting him from further analysis of the unfamiliar face. "Well, get up, Sister Naomi. This is my brother-- come and meet him. I've brought him here to see you."
Quickly the girl got up and brushed herself off, seeming surprised to hear that this visitor was also for her. She came over and stood before him. Maria Angelica addressed her. "This is Father Francis Mulcahy. He served in the Korean War--and lost part of his hearing there, too, so you'll have to speak up." Priest and nun exchanged polite greetings, each still wondering why Maria Angelica was introducing them.
"I imagine that you were a chaplain in Korea," Sister Naomi said. "Did you serve at battle sites?"
Father Mulcahy shook his head. "No, I was with a surgical hospital--a M*A*S*H unit, the 4077th. I ministered to recuperating soldiers...well, when I wasn't performing last rites, helping local orphans, assisting with surgery, conducting services that hardly anyone came to, holding confessions, playing piano, or trying to smooth out conflicts within the unit." He smiled a bit wryly as Naomi's eyes widened, and she shyly smiled back.
"You also brought an abandoned child to a monastery," added Angelica, raising her eyebrows.
"Oh, you remember my mentioning that? Yes, a baby was left outside a tent that three of our surgeons shared. We did everything we could to get her to the States, but it was no use--neither the Army nor the Red Cross nor anyone else would cooperate. We ended up leaving her in a monastery not far away, trying to save her from the misery she would have endured as a child of mixed--" Suddenly he trailed off, his eyes narrowing for a second as he stared at Naomi--then widening in recognition and shock. That was it-- what he was trying to remember! Naomi's face *was* different from most Koreans'--it was *half-American*...
He turned to Maria Angelica, startled. "Sis...you mentioned the baby...can this be...?"
She nodded, smiling softly. "Naomi, my brother Francis helped care for you before you were put into the monastery in Korea."
Naomi stared at Maria Angelica, then at Mulcahy. "He did?"
"But for that one little girl to be sent to *this* convent is a chance in a thousand--can you be sure?" Father Mulcahy asked.
Maria Angelica nodded again. "She's only been here a month. Just a few days ago we were talking about her past, and she told me she had spent much of her life in a monastery in Korea...and then she told me where, and what year she was born. She was the only girl her age there--the nearest one was three years older, and would have been born too soon. Apparently, of all the half-Korean children born that year, she was the only female one to end up there. The monks had told her the date that they had received her into the monastery, and it checked out with the letter you sent me back then. She was originally named Sek Lin, but one of the monks called her Naomi out of affection. She's been called that since she came here as a nun."
Father Mulcahy and Sister Naomi regarded each other again, each as surprised as the other. Finally Naomi looked back at Maria Angelica. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"I only realized it a short time ago...and I suppose I wanted it to be a surprise." Maria Angelica replied, blushing a bit. "I meant no harm."
"Oh, and you gave none!" said Naomi emphatically, and took one of Father Mulcahy's hands in both of hers. "Tell me, sir--Father--these three surgeons you speak of," she began earnestly, "who are they? Until now I've had no knowledge of anyone who took care of me before my arrival at the monastery. I would like to know their names, even if they do not remember me or do not wish to see me."
"They most certainly *would* wish to see you, and I know they'll remember you. I must tell them as soon as I can! But it was more than just those three that cared for you. The surgeons' names are Hawkeye--well, *Benjamin*, really--Pierce, B.J. Hunnicutt, and Charles Winchester--well, that's the short version of his name, anyway. But there was also our colonel, Sherman Potter; our head nurse, Margaret Houlihan; and our company clerk, Max Klinger, not to mention the other nurses, whom we've unfortunately lost track of. Everyone was very unwilling to give you up. We wanted you here in the States right away."
"A whole hospital watched me!" Naomi said in amazement. "Please, Father, tell me everything! What were they like, and how long was I there?"
Sister Maria Angelica rolled her eyes skyward, but smiled. "Stories like that will take an hour at least, I'm sure. The two of you are going to need a couple of chairs--and so will I; I never mind hearing your war stories, Francis. Go ahead, there's no hurry. I'll get the chairs, and you can tell her everything."
A/N: My first M*A*S*H fic, set twenty-some years post-GF&A. That's a lot of time, so I decided that I liked Beth Mott's account so much of the crew's lives as of 1963 (http://www.geocities.com/beth_mott/reunion.html) that I'd go by it here and just fast-forward ten years, rather than take up time and space thinking of (and explaining) a different account. Thanks again to HM Writer for the inadvertent inspiration, and to iolanthe for the description of the convent in her story. ...Oh, yeah, and what I know about convents, monasteries, etc. could fit in a thimble, so I hope it's not too inaccurate.
Chapter 1: Sister Naomi
The year was 1975, and though he'd been home from Korea for over twenty years, Father Francis John Patrick Mulcahy still wore the same hat, now worn, faded, and slightly misshapen. His face was lined, his glasses thicker, his hair graying, and--of course--part of his hearing was gone (though he wasn't bad at lip-reading after twenty-two years, which helped him quite a bit sometimes), but he strode as energetically as ever along a familiar path--that leading to the entrance of the convent where Sister Maria Angelica--his real-life, blood-relative sister--lived. She had asked him to come at once, but would not tell him why, though she assured him that it was no emergency.
He reached the entrance and removed his hat as a pale young nun--she could not have been more than twenty--escorted him to his sister. As was often the case, his sister was in the convent's central courtyard. Her back was to him, currently bent a bit to water a bed of roses that still bloomed, here in early October. Beside her, kneeling in the bit of dirt at the edge of the bed, was another figure in nun's attire, smaller, listening attentively as Maria Angelica instructed her in the ways of flora.
"Your brother, Sister Maria Angelica," Father Mulcahy's young attendant said cheerily.
The nun turned around. "Francis! I'm so sorry, I was just--" She trailed off as she abandoned the rosebed to greet him.
"That's all right, Katherine," Mulcahy said, calling her by her real name as he embraced her. "That's a lovely rosebed."
"Yes, we've all enjoyed tending it," the Sister replied, speaking loudly, as was of course necessary. "You're looking very well. The bronchitis didn't keep you down for long, I see. I was hoping you'd be well enough to come."
"Oh, that," Mulcahy said dismissively, waving his hand. "Gone days ago. So...what is it that you wanted to tell me?"
"Well, not tell, exactly, but *show*," came the cryptic reply. For the first time, Maria Angelica gestured toward the girl that had been helping her with the flowers. The girl was still kneeling, but was now looking over her shoulder in curiosity at Father Mulcahy. Now he saw her face and realized that she was Korean. She was very pretty, with large eyes that looked poetic even from where he was standing, a short distance away. There was something about her face, though--something different than normal Korean faces--that twitched something in the back of his head. There was something it made him start to remember--but what?
But Maria Angelica continued, distracting him from further analysis of the unfamiliar face. "Well, get up, Sister Naomi. This is my brother-- come and meet him. I've brought him here to see you."
Quickly the girl got up and brushed herself off, seeming surprised to hear that this visitor was also for her. She came over and stood before him. Maria Angelica addressed her. "This is Father Francis Mulcahy. He served in the Korean War--and lost part of his hearing there, too, so you'll have to speak up." Priest and nun exchanged polite greetings, each still wondering why Maria Angelica was introducing them.
"I imagine that you were a chaplain in Korea," Sister Naomi said. "Did you serve at battle sites?"
Father Mulcahy shook his head. "No, I was with a surgical hospital--a M*A*S*H unit, the 4077th. I ministered to recuperating soldiers...well, when I wasn't performing last rites, helping local orphans, assisting with surgery, conducting services that hardly anyone came to, holding confessions, playing piano, or trying to smooth out conflicts within the unit." He smiled a bit wryly as Naomi's eyes widened, and she shyly smiled back.
"You also brought an abandoned child to a monastery," added Angelica, raising her eyebrows.
"Oh, you remember my mentioning that? Yes, a baby was left outside a tent that three of our surgeons shared. We did everything we could to get her to the States, but it was no use--neither the Army nor the Red Cross nor anyone else would cooperate. We ended up leaving her in a monastery not far away, trying to save her from the misery she would have endured as a child of mixed--" Suddenly he trailed off, his eyes narrowing for a second as he stared at Naomi--then widening in recognition and shock. That was it-- what he was trying to remember! Naomi's face *was* different from most Koreans'--it was *half-American*...
He turned to Maria Angelica, startled. "Sis...you mentioned the baby...can this be...?"
She nodded, smiling softly. "Naomi, my brother Francis helped care for you before you were put into the monastery in Korea."
Naomi stared at Maria Angelica, then at Mulcahy. "He did?"
"But for that one little girl to be sent to *this* convent is a chance in a thousand--can you be sure?" Father Mulcahy asked.
Maria Angelica nodded again. "She's only been here a month. Just a few days ago we were talking about her past, and she told me she had spent much of her life in a monastery in Korea...and then she told me where, and what year she was born. She was the only girl her age there--the nearest one was three years older, and would have been born too soon. Apparently, of all the half-Korean children born that year, she was the only female one to end up there. The monks had told her the date that they had received her into the monastery, and it checked out with the letter you sent me back then. She was originally named Sek Lin, but one of the monks called her Naomi out of affection. She's been called that since she came here as a nun."
Father Mulcahy and Sister Naomi regarded each other again, each as surprised as the other. Finally Naomi looked back at Maria Angelica. "Why didn't you tell me that before?"
"I only realized it a short time ago...and I suppose I wanted it to be a surprise." Maria Angelica replied, blushing a bit. "I meant no harm."
"Oh, and you gave none!" said Naomi emphatically, and took one of Father Mulcahy's hands in both of hers. "Tell me, sir--Father--these three surgeons you speak of," she began earnestly, "who are they? Until now I've had no knowledge of anyone who took care of me before my arrival at the monastery. I would like to know their names, even if they do not remember me or do not wish to see me."
"They most certainly *would* wish to see you, and I know they'll remember you. I must tell them as soon as I can! But it was more than just those three that cared for you. The surgeons' names are Hawkeye--well, *Benjamin*, really--Pierce, B.J. Hunnicutt, and Charles Winchester--well, that's the short version of his name, anyway. But there was also our colonel, Sherman Potter; our head nurse, Margaret Houlihan; and our company clerk, Max Klinger, not to mention the other nurses, whom we've unfortunately lost track of. Everyone was very unwilling to give you up. We wanted you here in the States right away."
"A whole hospital watched me!" Naomi said in amazement. "Please, Father, tell me everything! What were they like, and how long was I there?"
Sister Maria Angelica rolled her eyes skyward, but smiled. "Stories like that will take an hour at least, I'm sure. The two of you are going to need a couple of chairs--and so will I; I never mind hearing your war stories, Francis. Go ahead, there's no hurry. I'll get the chairs, and you can tell her everything."