Chapter Seven

September 1958

Mulcahy took a deep breath and let his lungs fill with the air of the cool autumnal evening. He looked out over the beautiful gardens; the lights of the hotel reflected in the lake, rippling slightly as the Maine wind disturbed the glassy surface. He could still hear the chattering from the open window of the bar. His friends were in there, laughing and catching up on the five years they had been apart. So many people, so many stories – his head was spinning.

Margaret had arrived alone, newly released from her army career and mourning the death of her father. They had spoken briefly about the demons she had dealt with since their time in Korea had come to an end. Having come to terms with her need to be loved by a man like her father, she had spent the last few years coming to terms with her need to be loved by a man like Benjamin Pierce. He was a hard act to follow, and she had slowly come to accept that the Hawkeye she fantasized about and the Hawkeye who now walked the streets of Crab Apple Cove were two completely different people. In Korea, he was her escape. But now, in the real world, she no longer needed to hide from what she wanted most – a future and someone to love. She was still single, but looking. And looking at her shining eyes and happy demeanour, Mulcahy knew that she wouldn't be alone for long. One thing hadn't changed about Margaret Houlihan, and that was her determination.

Sherman Potter, on the other hand, was a changed man. And it was his reaction to the news that Mulcahy was no longer the padre of the outfit which had led to the former priest seeking solace outside. When he had carefully shared his news with his former commanding officer, the older man's eyes misted slightly. He shook his head slowly, looking at the ground.

"I guessed that damned place wrecked all our lives, didn't it?"

Mulcahy had made his excuses and left.

And now he sat outside alone, wondering where on earth he had gone so wrong in his life. He remembered his first night in Korea, the smell of the dry earth and the foreign sounds from the surrounding countryside. He had been so sure that God had wanted him to go there, to help people. His faith in God had never wavered for a moment, no matter what he saw and no matter who he spoke to. Until that day, the day when Sally walked into camp with her funny accent and her serge green uniform. He recalled that very first night when she cried her heart out on his shoulder. He closed his eyes and remembered the feeling of her damp tears soaking through to his skin, and how uncomfortable he felt holding her in his arms – and that made him laugh. Holding her so close was the only thing now which he could imagine feeling right. But how could he choose between them, the two things he loved most in the world? His God, and his Sally.

His Sally. She wasn't his Sally any longer. She was someone else entirely now. Someone else came home every night to her smile. Some other man listened intently as she spoke about her day. And that other man held her in his arms at night as she slept. Did she even think about him now, he wondered? Had she been hoping right up until the moment that the ring was placed on her finger that he, Johnny (as she always called him), would come for her and make her dreams come true? If she had, then he'd let her down. He'd let everyone down. Everyone he'd ever cared for had trusted him, and he'd thrown it right back in their faces. All those people in the bar had looked to him for guidance. He was Father Mulcahy, the priest, the Padre. The one who held services to which nobody came unless they had a reason. He was the one who told them to have faith, the one who prayed for the souls of those in his charge. And now look at him, he'd given it all up. They must be thinking he was a fraud all along, fooling them into believing when he never believed himself. But he did believe, he had and he still knew that he could. But he also knew that he couldn't shake the feelings which had dominated his every waking moment for almost a year. The feeling of complete and utter desolation whenever he thought about her, and what they had. And how he'd let her go, and for what? He was alone now, and what's more he deserved to be.

Mulcahy took off his glasses and covered his eyes with his hand, rubbing them to stop the tears from falling. Then a voice behind him made him jump.

"Shouldn't you be at the piano right now?" He turned and saw the smiling face of BJ looking down on him.

"I don't think it would be very welcome, do you?" he answered sadly, "Just one more reminder of what a great guy I used to be."

BJ sat down on the step beside him. They sat in silence for a moment, then BJ spoke. When he did, it was so quiet that Mulcahy – with his poor hearing - could barely make him out.

"The reason I'm here alone this weekend is because…" he paused for a moment, drawing breath. "Peg and I got divorced."

"Divorced?" Mulcahy turned around in surprise. "Oh BJ, I'm so sorry, I had no idea…"

BJ waved his hand dismissively. "Don't be sorry," he said, "It was the best thing that could have happened really. We just… grew apart."

"But you were so much in love. You missed her so much when we were over there, how could it be for the best?" Mulcahy was astounded, and it showed in his voice.

BJ sighed sadly. "When I came back home, everything was just as I'd left it. Erin had grow, obviously. But other than that, the house, the car, the neighbours – everything was just as I'd remembered. All I had to do was pick up the threads of my life and carry on…" he paused.

"Except?" prompted his friend.

"Except I'd changed. I wasn't the same person who had left that life behind."

He stood up and walked down the steps towards the lake and began to throw stones into the water as he spoke.

"What I saw there, what I experienced… it made me a different person. Not necessarily a better person, or a worse one for that matter. But just different to what I would have been if I hadn't gone. And it took me a long time to realise that. Peg wanted to keep going with the plans we'd had before I'd left, wanted another child, a bigger house. And to me, they just didn't seem important any more. I gave up my job and took a post at a local clinic for disadvantaged people. People with no money and no access to health care. But Peg couldn't understand why I would do that. She couldn't see why all the material things didn't matter any more. She was the same woman I married, and I still loved her. But I wasn't the man that she had married, and because I loved her I couldn't force her to live a life she didn't want."

"So you split up." Mulcahy finished for him. "How did you cope?"

BJ didn't turn round, but kept speaking out over the water so that Mulcahy had to struggle to hear what he was saying.

"I just did. In a strange way I felt relief. I was relieved that I could get on with living my life how I wanted it to be lived. The hardest part was telling people. I haven't told anybody here, I couldn't face it. Not that I'm ashamed of being alone, but I'm ashamed of admitting to them that I'm not the man that they thought I was."

Mulcahy gazed at him through the darkness. "I don't understand," he said.

"When I was in Korea," BJ explained, "I was BJ Hunnicut. Husband of Peg, father of Erin. That's who I was to everyone in camp. And sometimes, if people were having an off day – and especially Hawkeye, I know because I've spoken to him about it - if people were having an off day, they'd look at me and think 'Well, it could be worse. Poor BJ's had to leave his wife and kid to come here' and somehow, for some people, that made it seem a little better."

Mulcahy nodded in silent agreement, knowing that he himself had that thought on more than one occasion.

"And now look at me," BJ continued. "I've left the war and what's the first thing I do? I go and get divorced. How can people relate to me now, how can people who've only ever known me as married BJ ever accept me as single and looking BJ? How can I live knowing that I've let them down so badly?"

There was silence for a moment, broken only by the 'plop' as BJ continued to throw stones into the lake. Mulcahy watched as they pierced the surface of the water, plunging out of sight to leave only the ripples to pinpoint where they went. The ripples which started out in one tiny corner before growing and magnifying until they covered the whole surface. The lights of the hotel were shimmering down, distorting and changing before his eyes. And he took a deep breath and spoke.

"BJ, you know that if people really are your friends, they'll accept you no matter what or who you are now. They might be disappointed at what's happened, but so are you. They mourn with you the life which has gone, but if they are true friends – friends who love you and want to stay in your life – then they'll help you to move on and celebrate all the new opportunities which your new circumstances have been blessed with."

BJ stopped throwing stones, and for a moment the two men stood there feeling the breeze rippling through their hair. Then he turned around to face Mulcahy with a beaming smile on his face.

"You're right, Francis. You're absolutely right. You know, you've always been good at giving advice, ever since I've known you. And nothing much has changed has it?"

Mulcahy opened his mouth to reply, but BJ placed his hand on his shoulder and spoke first.

"And it is pretty good advice. Don't you think?"

A voice made them both look up towards the hotel. Hawkeye was standing on the veranda of the bar with his arm around a woman. Silhouetted against the lights from inside, it was hard to make him out.

"Hey Beej, you owe me a drink! I just managed to get Radar to admit to putting Margaret to bed when she went on that 48-hour bender! And he saw her underwear! And, it wasn't army issue!"

BJ looked up towards where his friend stood. "I'll be up in a little while!" he yelled back.

Hawkeye's outline threw its hands up in the air. "BJ Hunnicut, you have 30 seconds to get up here for that drink before it gets poured down Radar's throat. I want to see if that wife of his is so sweet natured when he can't stand up any more."

BJ looked back down at Mulcahy. "Sorry Fath.. I mean Francis," he said with a shrug of his shoulders.

Mulcahy smiled in return and BJ walked behind him and loped up the steps towards the bar.

Mulcahy turned his attention back to the water. He stood and made his way down the steps to the edge of the lake before looking into its inky depths. The moon was out now, and he could see nothing of what lay beneath the surface, only the reflection of the heavens above his head. His gaze travelled upwards and he looked again in wonder at the myriad of stars and planets which glowed above him. Such an expanse of beauty could only have been the creation of a greater being, of God. He fell to his knees beside the water and began to pray out loud, not caring anymore who heard him.

"Dear God, forgive me for my sins. Forgive me for my failings. I never meant to let you down, but you sent her to me, and now I begin to see that perhaps it was all part of your plan. Forgive me for all I have done wrong, and though I don't deserve it – if it was your will, please, please give me one more chance with her. Just one more chance…"

He dropped his head to the ground, balling himself up into the foetal position. His hands hung down into the water, making ripples of their own as they pierced into the cool blackness. He felt the wind blow round him, rustling leaves and trees nearby.

And then felt warm breath on his neck, as someone leant close to him and whispered into his ear.

"If you want a second chance, Johnny, you had better hurry up and take it."

Mulcahy sat up, and found himself looking directly into the dark, smiling eyes of Sally.