Debra Petersen

debpet732@aol.com

 

A FATHER’S PRAYER
DEBRA P.

 


 
FEEDBACK: Any and all strongly encouraged!
 

(I am very interested in the idea of Adam going off to fight in the Civil War and I have appreciated several of the fanfics I’ve seen based on that premise.  That led me to imagine the scene in which he announces his intention to his father...and how Ben would react.) 

 

Yawning with weariness, I am more than ready to go up to bed .  I have just put my foot on the bottom step of the stairs when I feel the touch of a hand on my shoulder and hear a voice behind me.

 

“Pa, I need to talk to you.”

 

I turn to find myself looking into the serious face of my oldest son.  Suddenly I know exactly what is coming, and I shudder inwardly.  I have been dreading this.  But it is a fight that cannot be avoided.

 

“Of course, son.”  I gesture toward the fireplace and a moment later we are sitting side by side on the settee.  He seems to find it hard to begin; I have no intention of helping him.

 

“You heard what Frank was talking about the other night,” Adam finally says. I nod.  The editor of Virginia City’s newspaper had come to have dinner with us and had told many stories of the progress of the war in the East.  Adam had listened so very intently - and I had noticed.
 
“The Union forces are having a pretty tough go of it right now,” Adam continues.  He takes a breath to steel himself and finally comes out with it.  “Pa, I can’t stand aside from this any longer.  I have to go and take my part.”

 

There it is, out in the open.  I have thought of what I would say, but, knowing this young man’s ‘stubbornness’ as I do, I have my doubts as to how much good it will do.

 

“Adam, you have important responsibilities here,” I begin, trying to sound as reasonable as possible.

 

“And two brothers who are perfectly capable of keeping things going without me, given the chance,” he responds.

 

“Don’t you think that what we do in supplying beef and horses for the army fulfills our obligation in supporting the war effort?,” I challenge him.

 

“Not completely,” he shoots back.  “We’re not exactly donating those things.
And as important as they are, those things are only valuable as long as there are troops to use them.  That’s where the most critical need is right now, and you know it.”

 

I cannot argue that point.  It looks like I will have to resort to a blatant emotional appeal.  Lay the guilt on.

 

“Adam, I can’t believe how selfish you are being.  You’re willing to hurt your brothers this way, cause me such terrible anxiety and shove all of your responsibilities off onto the rest of us, all to follow this quixotic crusade.  I would never have thought this of you!”

 

A real hurt comes into his eyes, and his voice takes on the deadly controlled tone with which he answers insult.

 

“You know me better than that, Pa.  You can’t think I WANT to hurt you or Joe or Hoss in any way.  I wish to God I didn’t believe it was necessary.  I thought you understood what was involved here.  You’ve spent your life trying to build for the future of this family.  Well this family can only have a future if the country has a future.  And if this country is going to have a future it can only be as one united FREE country.  That’s what this fight is all about, and it’s a fight that has to be won.  Do we have the right to stand safely apart while something of that importance is being decided?  So many people are already suffering so much.”

 

I find myself shaken by the passion with which he speaks.  I know that the passion is a passion for doing what is right.  This son of mine gives me new reason every day to justify my pride in him.  That is what makes this so hard.

 

There is only one more appeal I can make, and I cannot keep the trembling out of my voice as I make it.  “Son, you’ll be putting your life at risk... such very great risk.”

 

His voice is quiet and much steadier than mine.  “Life is always a risk, Pa.  And the most important things always seem to carry the most risk We can’t remove ourselves from that reality.  Somehow we just have to live with it.”

 

I grope for some other argument to raise but cannot find one.  On his side are the reasons of necessity, of principle, of right.  And opposing them I have only a father’s heartfelt plea against the endangerment of his child.  This is a fight I cannot win.

 

The realization is a terrible one, because with it comes the foreboding that in losing this fight I could well be losing my son.

 

Finally I face the inevitable.  “Adam, I will never be happy about this.  However
I do understand your reasons, and I cannot stop you from following them as your conscience dictates.  If you truly feel that you must go, you will go with my blessing.”

 

His eyes are glowing now, and a weight seems to have fallen from his shoulders.  “Thanks, Pa.” he says simply.  He leans forward, and for once in his life my undemonstrative son is putting his arms around me to offer comfort.  I give the embrace back doubled and hold him as close as I can.  I will not be able to do this for long.  Our small fight is over, but the larger fight has a long way to go, and he will be right in the middle of it.  I find myself praying without speaking, a prayer as fervent as any I have ever uttered.

 

“Oh God, hold him close when I cannot.  Send him back safe.
 Bring him home.”

 

THE END
 
  

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