A Mother's Prayer
by Shannon McKinnon

Ben drew in a deep breath and then let it out slowly as he walked down the street. It was Sunday evening and he was returning to his apartment after working most of the afternoon at the Consulate.

It was Mother's Day, and the streets and sidewalks were not nearly as crowded as they were on a regular day.

Diefenbaker was taking full advantage of this fact, racing up and down the sidewalk, exploring and sniffing whatever he desired.

Ben's steps were much slower and he lagged behind his wolf, deep in thought and a gloomy mood. The empty streets and sidewalks only seemed to enhance his own sense of aloneness.

Ben sighed again. It didn't have to be this way. He had been invited to the Vecchio family celebrationmore than once. But he had begged off, telling the family that he was backlogged at work and needed to go to the office that Sunday to catch up.

Most of the family had accepted the excuse- with disappointment- but Ray had been much harder to convince. Ray had asked him again just a few days ago.

"Come on, Benny. I'll pick you up from the Consulate when you're done. Please have dinner with us."

"Honestly Ray," Ben had replied, "I don't know how late I'll be working. I wouldn't want to interrupt or delay your family's dinner. It's all right, really."

Ray had stared at him for a long moment. "All right," he had finally nodded.

Ben still wasn't sure that Ray entirely accepted his explanation, but he had let it slide.

And the story had not entirely been a falsehood. He had in fact had a lot of work to catch up on. But it was more than that.

He had been feeling down all week, and he wasn't sure he would be able to hide it from the Vecchio family. Especially when they were celebrating their mothers.

He didn't want his down mood to ruin the rest of the family's happiness, so he had decided it would be best for everyone if he just stayed away.

Ben entered his apartment and closed the door behind him. Dief trotted over to his food bowl, tail wagging, and Ben smiled. He filled Diefenbaker's food and water bowls, then headed over to the refrigerator.

He stopped about halfway there. Despite the fairly late hour, he wasn't hungry yet. Maybe he should just change first. Going into the bedroom, he changed out of his uniform into jeans and a t-shirt, then sat down on the side of his bed.

Dief came over and laid his head in Ben's lap, and Ben stroked the wolf absently. After a few minutes, Ben got up and knelt before the steamer trunk at the foot of his bed.

After removing the items from the top of the trunk, Ben opened the lid and started going through the trunk, removing the trunk's contents and placing them on the floor.

Near the bottom was a woolen scarf of light-blue plaid, and Ben ran his hand over it gently, a soft smile crossing his face. He lifted the scarf carefully from the trunk and laid it on the foot of his bed. Underneath the scarf was a small book, and Ben lifted it into his hands and knelt there staring at it for a few minutes. Finally he gave a sigh and rose to his feet, then walked over to the kitchen table and sat down with the book in his hands.

The book was slightly worn but obviously well cared for. It was bound in white leather, with the word "Journal" embossed in gilt in the center of the cover and the name "Caroline Fraser" embossed in smaller letters in the lower right-hand corner.

Almost reluctantly, Ben opened the cover and began turning through the pages. He stopped at an entry about 3/4 of the way through the journal and started to read.

October 12, 1967
Bob left today. I hate this. No matter how many years it happens, I never get used to it. He comes back in the spring, I have a husband and a normal family for a few months, and then he's gone again, upsetting everything. Ben and I have to make the readjustment, and it never gets easier.

The whole time Bob was packing his duffel bag, Ben sat in the rocking chair watching him; his hands clutching the arms of the chair, his eyes wide, his face sad and solemn. I felt the exact same way.

It didn't take Robert that long to pack- all his worldly belongings fit into that damn duffel bag- and then we had to say goodbye.

Bob stopped at the door and turned around. "Benton, come here."

Ben hopped down from the chair and walked over to him. Bob leaned down slightly and held out his hand, and Ben shook it with all the seriousness of an adult.

"Be a good man for me, Ben," his father told him. "Take care of your mother for me, okay?"

Ben nodded. "Goodbye, Daddy," he said, and I could tell from his voice that he was struggling to hold back the tears.

I wanted to tell Robert to give his son a hug, but I knew that the ensuing argument would only ruin our farewell, and I didn't want that to happen. So Bob and I went out to the front porch and closed the door for a private good-bye.

When I went back into the cabin, Ben was sitting in the rocking chair again, and he was crying. I went over and picked him up and held him in my lap, rocking him.

After a while he looked up at me. "How come Daddy always has to go away?" He asked, his voice trembling.

"Oh, Benny, we've been over this," I told him. "Your Daddy is a Mountie, and they need him to go on patrol to help people where no one else might be able to help them."

"Why can't one of the other Mounties do it?" He asked, and I had a hard time keeping a smile off my face at the petulance in his voice.

"Because Ben, your Daddy is the best. He is the best one to help those people, so that's why the RCMP sends him."

"We need his help, too," Ben said, kicking the arm of the chair.

He was only voicing aloud thoughts that I have had hundreds of times, but I couldn't let either one of us continue down that path. "Nonsense, Ben. We'll be fine. You and I are a very good team, aren't we?"

He nodded.

"And we've always gotten along all right before, haven't we?"

Another nod.

"Well there you go. We'll have a wonderful winter."

He peered up at me with that intent look, the one that seems so out of place on the face of a child. "Don't you miss Daddy?"

"Yes Ben, I do. Very much."

"Are you sad?"

I smiled down at him. "Yes Benny, I am."

A sudden look of determination crossed his face, and he wiped his eyes. "Don't worry Mommy, I'll take care of you."

Ben grinned and shook his head. He leafed through a few pages before stopping at another entry.

November 24, 1967
Winter has set in for good. There's almost two feet of snow on the ground already, and another storm is predicted for later in the week. Ben and I spent most of the afternoon building a snowman, and it's a good one, if I do say so myself.

Afterwards we came inside and I made us some hot chocolate and we drank it in front of the fire. Ben sat there, clutching his mug in both hands, staring into the flames with a solemn expression on his face.

My serious little Ben. I worry about him sometimesit doesn't seem that a child should be so serious all the time. It makes him seem older than his years, and it can be easy to forget sometimes that he's just a little boy.

But Ben's not the only one acting older than his age. I feel like an old woman today. It's been hours since we came inside from building the snowman, and I still can't warm up. I'm wearing an extra sweater and a sweatshirt, and I still feel chilled.

Maybe it's just because I'm tired. I don't know what's wrong with me lately- I feel so tired and worn out all the time. God, I hope I'm not coming down with something.

Ben squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew that he should probably stop reading and put the book away, but instead he flipped through a few more pages and started reading again.

January 4, 1968
I'm going into town tomorrow to see the doctor. I can't avoid it any longer. I tried to avoid it and deny it for a long time. I thought it might just be the activity and excitement of the holidays, or the extra work I have to do while Bob is away. For a few days I was even afraid that I might be pregnant, but that turned out not to be the case.

So, I'm going to the doctor and he can find out what is wrong with me. I need to get my energy and strength back- I have a home and a child to take care of.

I'm sure I just need some vitamin supplements or iron pills, and soon I'll be back to my old self. I hope so, I'm getting sick of feeling this way.

January 9, 1968
They're wrong. They are. They have to be. Dr. Holling and that specialist he consulted; they are mistaken. I mean that other doctor- the supposed expert- didn't even see me in person.

Dr. Holling just sent him all my samples and test results, and they talked on the phone. It could be very easy to make a mistake that way. What if he wasn't even looking at my tests? It would be very easy for them to get mixed up in the mail.

Oh God... I know they aren't wrong. But how can they be right? This can't be happening to me. I don't even feel sick.

The look on Dr. Holling's face, and the sound of his voice when he told me, are burned into my memory. Nothing they can do... Eight to ten weeks... Eight to ten weeks? How can that be? I can't grasp that or accept it.

I can't- I'm too young. I've just barely begun to live. I have too much to do. I'm needed here. I need to stay here.

I'm in Ben's room right now. I pulled the rocking chair in here, and I've been sitting here for hours, watching him sleep. He looks so very young; so innocent and helpless.

Oh God, what is going to happen to my baby?

January 11, 1968
I contacted RCMP division headquarters today, and they are going to contact Robert and get a message to him as quickly as they can. Who even knows how long it will be. It could take them a week or more to even find him. Please let them find him soon.

Bob, I need you...

January 23, 1968
Things are happening so fast. Already I can't make it make it through the day without a nap, most days I need two. So Ben and I have our "quiet times" and I sleep while he does his schoolwork or reads or colors.

I'm so glad that we decided to home school Ben this year. I would never be able to make the trip into town twice a day to take him to school and back.

The pain is getting worse too, but I don't want to take any of the pills the doctor gave me. I don't know how they'll affect me, and Ben needs a mother who is alert and awake as much as possible.

He knows something is wrong. He's so smart and perceptive, how could he not? But I don't know what to tell him. How do I tell my little boy that he is going to lose his mommy forever?

I worry about Ben. He's only six years old, but already he is very good at hiding his feelings. He puts on a calm mask, and if you don't look closely, you assume that he's okay. But inside, he feels things. He feels them very deeply.

I worry that no one will take the time to look closely enough at Ben to realize this and reach out to him and help him. I'll try talking to Robert about it when he gets here, but I'm not sure how much good it will do.

January 25, 1968
When I woke up this morning, I felt as tired as if I hand't slept all night. Ben came into my room, still in his pajamas, and asked if it was time for breakfast. I felt like I was a horrible mother, neglecting my child. "In a little while, Benny. I'm just going to rest for a little while longer, okay?"

"Do you want a cup of tea, Mommy?"

"Oh, that's sweet, honey, but I'll make one when I get up."

"I can make it for you."

"Honey, you don't know how to make tea."

Ben nodded vigorously. "Yes I do! I watch you do it all the time! I'll be very careful, Mommy. I won't make a mess or hurt myself with the hot water."

I paused for another moment, but I couldn't resist that hopeful look on his face. "All right, honey. But be very careful."

"I will, Mommy!"

He ran from the room smiling happily, and he was back in less than ten minutes, a cup of tea held gingerly between his hands. I took it from him, thanking him profusely, and took a sip.

I had been bracing myself for the worst, but it really wasn't that bad at all. It was a little sweeter than I care for, but all in all it was quite goodespecially for his first try.

Ben was watching me as I drank, a look of anxiety on his face. I smiled at him. "That's delicious, Ben! You are now my official tea-maker."

He giggled, but there was a look of pride on his face; and for a moment everything was all right.

February 3, 1968
I was taking my afternoon nap today when I was awakened by a shout. "Daddy!"

Suddenly my heart was pounding nervously. I had no idea how Bob and I were going to react to each other, and despite how many times I had rehearsed it I had absolutely no idea what I was going to say to him. And I looked like hell.

There was the sound of six-year old feet running across the living room at full speed, then Ben's overjoyed voice. "Daddy! You're home early!"

"I am."

"Why?"

"Well, I missed you and your mother."

They came into the room, Bob carrying Ben. Not that he had much choice, because Ben's arms were wrapped around Bob's shoulders so tight that it would have been impossible not to bring him along.

"Daddy's here!" Ben cried out when he saw me.

"I can see that," I smiled. I looked at Bob and his smile faltered and his gaze slipped away.

"Ben honey," I said, "why don't you go into the living room and finish your reading? Daddy and I want to say hello to each other."

"Okay," he agreed happily, and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Bob got into bed with me, and we just lay there, holding each other for a long time. Finally Bob asked me "How are you feeling?" I could tell from his voice and the way he tensed up that he was afraid of the answer.

"I feel pretty well, actually," I told him. "I'm just tired a lot. I have some pain, but it's usually not that bad."

"Well, now that I'm here you can take a pain pill and sleep whenever you need to," he said.

"Yes, dear."

To my relief he laughed, and things seemed nearly normal again. We still need to have several important conversations, but they can wait until at least tomorrow. For now we just wanted to be in each other's company.

February 4, 1968
I was lying in bed this morning and Bob was finishing getting dressed when a quiet knock sounded on our door. Bob looked over at me with a grin. "Come in, son."

Ben bounded in, still in his pajamas. "Good morning, Daddy!"

"Good morning, Ben."

"Hi Mommy," he looked over at me with a happy smile, and I felt my heart tighten a little bit in my chest.

"Why don't I go get breakfast started? Would you like a cup of tea?" Bob asked me.

"Yes please."

"I can do that, Daddy." Ben said eagerly.

Bob looked at Ben with an expression halfway between a smile and a frown on his face. "You don't know how to do it, Benton."

"Yes I do! I learned while you were away. I make tea for Mommy all the time. I can do it."

"Don't be silly, Benton."

Bob left the room, heading for the kitchen. If I had felt strong enough, I would have followed him and given him a good shaking. Poor Ben looked absolutely heartbroken. His lower lip was trembling and he was biting it to keep from crying.

"Come here Benny," I said, gesturing him over to the bed. He came and sat on the edge of the mattress. "Ben, I need to ask a big favor of you, okay?"

"Okay," he nodded, wide-eyed.

"Ben, now that your Daddy is home, he will be doing the morning chores. He will need to do those first thing, and most mornings he won't have time to make my tea before he heads out to do the chores. Do you think you could make my tea and bring it to me each morning?"

Ben nodded eagerly. "Yes Mommy. I can do that!"

"Thank you, sweetie. And we won't even tell your Dad about our plan ahead of time. It will be our secret." I rubbed my nose against his, and he giggled.

Bob stepped back into the room. "Don't you think it's time for you to be getting dressed, son?"

"Yes, Daddy." Ben ran past him and out of the room with one hand clamped over his mouth to hold in the giggles.

Later that morning Bob and I had a long talk about many things, the main one being what was going to happen to Ben. We agreed that the only solution that made sense was to have his parents look after Benny while Bob was out on patrol.

I would like for Bob to take a posting where he could be home on a regular basis; but he wouldn't consider it. It is so against his nature that it would probably do more harm than good.

Bob is going to go into town tomorrow to place a call to his parents. Even though I know this has to happen, I want to delay it until the last possible moment. The time I have left with my family is limited enough. I want to keep my son with me for as long as I can.

February 10, 1968
I have been restless the last few nights, tossing and turning, unable to sleep. Even the pain pills, which usually make me very sleepy, haven't helped. Of course, it wasn't pain that was keeping me awake. Not physical pain, anyway.

I can't stop thinking about Ben; worrying about what is going to happen to him after I'm gone.

I know he'll be well taken care of, that he'll never want for anything. He'll have a good home. He'll always have clothes on his back and food in his stomach, and he will get a good education.

And I know that his grandparents love him. They love him very much. But they don't know how to express that love. Bob doesn't either, as much as I try to talk to him about it. He just can't understand. I'm afraid that no one is going to nurture my Ben's emotional side.

Ben is already so good at keeping his emotions in check; at hiding them. I'm afraid that if there is no one there to help him express his emotions and feelings, he'll bury them deeper and deeper, until they will be completely out of reach.

I wonder if he'll ever meet anyone who will care enough to take the time to look beyond his calm exterior, to discover what's inside? I hope so. I pray for it with all my heart.

I want my son to have a happy life. I want him to have love, and a family. I just want Ben to be okay.

After that, the entries in the journal got fewer and further between. Ben leafed through the pages, reading with an aching heart about his mother's declining health; and smiling occasionally as he read an entry that detailed one of her good days.

He laughed quietly as he read about and remembered the day the three of them had made chocolate chip cookies and the cookies had burned because none of them had thought to set the timer.

That was one of the last "good" entries in the journal. After that there were more and more days between each entry, and the sense of Caroline's physical and emotional pain was obvious on each page.

Ben read through the entries, knowing he should probably stop, but unable to make himself do so.

March 18, 1968
The day I have been dreading more than any other is here. Ben is leaving today. I know it's for the best. I am deteriorating more and more every dayevery hour, it seems sometimes. I don't want him to see me like this. I don't want him to remember me this way.

But it hurts so much, sending my son away. He hasn't been told what's happening. He just knows he's going to stay with his grandparents for awhile because his mom is sick. Maybe it's for the best that he wasn't told the complete truth. Maybe it's the worst idea ever. I honestly don't know. I don't know anything anymore.

But he can definitely tell that something is going on. I see him watching Robert and me with curiosity and uncertainty and fear.

While Bob and Ben went into the bedroom to pack Ben's clothes, Bob's parents and I had a long talk. Actually, they did most of the talking, I was too upset to say very much.

They promised me that they will take care of Ben and give him a good life. I don't doubt that for a second. I wanted to ask them to be sure to give Ben a hug every once in a while, but my throat was so tight that I knew if I tried to talk I would start crying, and not be able to stop. I don't want that to be Ben's last memory of me.

All too soon Bob and Ben came out of the bedroom, and Bob was carrying Ben's back pack.

"Bring me your coat, Benny." Somehow I managed to speak in a calm, controlled voice. Ben brought his jacket to me, and I helped him into it and zipped it up.

"Okay, Ben my love, you go with your grandparents now, all right?"

Ben just nodded, looking at me in that same uncertain way he has been for days now.

I grabbed him and hugged him harder than I ever have. "You be happy Ben, okay? Your grandparents love you, you remember that. And so do your father and I. Never forget that I love you very much."

"I love you too, Mommy." Ben's words were muffled against my shoulder. He didn't seem to want to let go any more than I did.

Finally I pushed him away from me and just stared into his face for a long, long time. I knew I wouldn't be able to hold it together much longer, so I looked up at Ben's grandmother and nodded.

She stepped forward and placed a hand on Ben's shoulder. "All right Benton, let's go." I noticed that she was having trouble with her voice as well.

Ben nodded, and I grabbed him and gave him another hug. He pulled away and smiled at me, then reached up and took his grandmother's hand.

They crossed the cabin and opened the door. Just as they stepped through, Ben turned around to look at me and gave me a little half-smile. Then the door closed behind them and he was gone.

I can't believe I'm never going to see my son again.

March 19, 1968
I had to stop writing yesterday. It was too upsetting. I'm not even sure why I'm writing this all down. It's just upsetting me again and using strength I don't really have. Maybe I think it will help make things better somehow. But could things ever get better?

After Ben left yesterday I fell apart. I laid in the bed and cried and cried until I couldn't cry anymore. I don't even know how long it lasted.

Robert, God bless him, did exactly what I needed him to do. He lay down next to me and held me and rocked me and just let me cry.

He is such a good man. He really is, that's why I fell in love with him. I worry about him, too. He closes himself off even more than Ben does.

I hope he can find some way to reach out to Ben, that they can help each other through this, maybe grow closer somehow.

God, please look after my boys. I just want them both to be okay.

That was the last entry in the journal. Five days later, Caroline Fraser had died.

Ben closed the book and placed it on the table in front of him, then buried his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes.

"Benny?"

Ben started at the quiet voice. "Ray. I didn't hear you come in."

"I could tell."

"Ray, what are you doing here?"

"Well, that's a nice greeting." Ray tried his usual teasing grin, but it had little affect on Ben.

"No, I mean shouldn't you be with your family, at the celebration?"

"Ah, the celebration part's over with. We had the big dinner, and now everyone's just sitting around in the living room, watching some movie on TV."

Ray dragged a chair around the table and sat down next to Benny. "I came over because I was worried about you."

"Worried about me?" Ben asked in surprise.

"Yeah, Benny. I was. I know you said everything was okay, and that you're fine; but I know that today is a hard day for you, and I hated the thought of you being here all alone." Ray took Ben's hands into his own, squeezing them gently. "I wanted to be sure that you were okay."

Ben looked from Ray to the journal lying on the table; and he smiled and nodded. "I'm okay."

THE END

Rated PG

This is a kinda sad, kinda sappy Mothers' Day story. For the purposes of the story, I ignore the idea that Caroline Fraser was murdered and go with another theory.

Alliance legally owns these characters. No copyright infringement or offense intended, and no profit will be made from this story.