A fine summer morning dawns over Ballykissangel. People stir, windows open, curtains blow in the breeze. The kitchen door of the pub opens, and Maggie takes Fionn out for his short morning walk. She waves at Kathleen Hendley as she walks by the shopkeeper, who is putting out the sidewalk merchandise. Maggie has a bright smile on her face, but Kathleen turns away stiffly. Maggie shrugs, and reaches down to touch Fionn, still walking.

Morning also dawns in "the big smoke", the metropolis of Dublin. Assumpta stretches, and sits up in bed, even though she was up late, working. She stands up, and heads into her bathroom. Water begins running as Assumpta turns on her shower.

The sun streams into the windows of Fitzgerald's, as Maggie opens the front doors, but strings silk cords across each doorway, hung with small signs which say "Sorry, open to the sun and breeze only." It is too early to serve alcohol to patrons, but the weather is too fine not to air out the whole front room of the pub. Frankie Sullivan is making her rounds, she pokes her head into the doorway, and Maggie, sitting in a pool of sunshine sipping coffee, smiles and invites her in.

"Join me for a cuppa joe, Frankie?"

"Sure, sounds grand!" Frankie steps over the silk cord, and pulls off her cap as she seats herself. "Love the signs, Maggie, it lets you air out the stuffiness and yet even the biggest stickler for the rules couldn't claim you were bending any."

"Well, even though I don't allow smoking in the pub, it can still get pungent when enough sweaty people show up, and we have actually gotten sweaty these last few days, I think we are having something as close to a heat wave as Ireland ever gets!" Maggie shakes her head a bit.

"We have at that! Before long even coffee or tea will be too much, and everyone will be drinking cola or beer, and then I'll have my work cut out for me soon after," Frankie agrees, taking another sip of her coffee.

"Well, if I could ever get the old sticks-in-the-mud around here to try iced tea, maybe there'd be fewer drunk drivers early in the day, and you'd have a lighter load!" Maggie laughs.

"I don't know, Maggie, iced tea, it's well, almost sacreligious! Scandalous, at least!" Frankie tells her.

Maggie giggles, glancing towards where Hendley's sits, across the road a bit. "Well, if it weren't for me, these days, whatever would Kathleen do for gossip! This town is getting to be a real backwater, now that nobody has to guess where Father Vincent will sleep next, or wonder when Brendan will pop the question to Siobhan!"

"Oh, I don't know, Maggie, Kathleen herself is a source of speculation these days! Her old beau, Dermot, has been to visit more than once, you know!"

"That's very true, you have a point. I wonder what might prompt him to pop the question, you know?  Do you think he might take her back to England with him?  Do you think I have enough money to bribe him?" Maggie winks at Frankie, who, having been caught sipping coffee at the moment, nearly sputters and sprays it all over her jacket and trousers.

She swallows with effort, coughs, and turns a jaundiced look at Maggie. "Thanks loads, Maggie, I might have choked to death!"

"Oh, come on, my coffee isn't *that* strong!" Maggie shoots back, and they both laugh.

Frankie stands. "I do need to get back out, but thanks for the coffee, and I'll make sure to tell Dermot the sky's the limit when next he comes to see Kathleen, okay?"

"You do that!" Maggie answers her. "Surely part of Kathleen's nastiness comes from her being lonely, and that'll be worse, now she doesn't have Father Mac to lean on!"

"You're serious!" Frankie is clearly suprised.

"Not about bribing Dermot Malone, Frankie, but I'd love to see him and Kathleen get serious, I think she still loves him. She never married anyone else, you know, even when she gave up on him coming back to her. Wouldn't it be romantic for them to get married, I'd even go to church to see that!"

"You, in church? Give me fair warning, Maggie, so I can have the fire brigade on standby, in case lightning strikes the steeple!"

Vincent Sheehan has poked his head in an open door. "Morning, Frankie!"

"Morning, Father!" Frankie answers him, moving towards the other door, then stepping over the cord. The priest straightens, and waves to Frankie as she waves to him, and then turns on up the street, continuing her rounds.

Father Vincent Sheehan pokes his head back in the door of the pub. "Mind if I come in?" he asks.

"No worries, Faahtha, an' g'day to ya!"

"Closer, Maggie, you're getting closer!" The priest pulls up the chair Frankie just vacated, Maggie reaches for the coffee carafe, but Vincent waves his hand. "Nah, no more coffee, I'll fidget the confessional to pieces if I drink even half a cup of your brew!"

"Oh, Vincent, it's not *that* strong!" Maggie sits up in her chair. "Or is it? I know that in the Midwest, back home, this would curl hair, but I still only make it half as strong as the barristas do. I guess my caffeine tolerance verges on the legendary, though, so maybe I'd better tone the java down a bit for the customers."

"Nah, Maggie, the coffee's fine, but I had ta tease ya a bit. Now, what's this you and Frankie are talking about, you comin' to church?"

"We were talking about Kathleen Hendley and her boyfriend, Dermot. I told Frankie I'd go to church to see them get married!"

"Oh, yeah, Aidan told me a bit about that, are they gettin' married, after all these years? Kathleen hasn't come to talk to me, but she might have said something to Father Mac, I don't know."

"No, Frankie and I were just speculating, Father, neither of us knows anything more. It was just wishful thinking on my part, I guess," Maggie answers him.

"Now what's that you're always sayin', Maggie, 'a woman without a man is like a fish without what'?" Vincent's tone is mildly chiding.

"A bicycle, Vincent, a bicycle. But just because we can live without you guys, you know, that doesn't mean you aren't FUN, sometimes!" Maggie leans over and pats Vincent's cheek. He ducks his head, and actually blushes. "Now, silly boy, you know I'm not chasing you!" Maggie chuckles at him. "And Father Mac isn't here to drag simple friendships through the gutter, either. If Kathleen Hendley lightens up, now, we'll all be happier! So all we have to do is get Dermot to pop that question, you get busy on that, pdq, okay?" Maggie stands up, and at that moment the phone rings.

She moves to answer it, and Vincent says, "See ya later, Maggie, have that sun tea on ice for me, will ya?"

"You bet!" Maggie answers, and picks up the reciever. "Fitzgerald's, Maggie McAllister speaking."

"Hi, Maggie, it's Assumpta. Did you and Fionn make it home okay?"

"Hi, Sis, yeah, we're fine! Fionn is tired, but he was really happy, he loves the kids, and loved seeing you, too." Maggie stretches the phone cord, sitting down on a stool at the bar. "He's sound asleep after breakfast, on his bed in the kitchen."

"Well, I've been on the phone with Siobhan, and wanted to tell you, too. I went to see Niamh and Sean at their hotel after you left, and I've great news! They're moving back to the Dillon farm in a couple of months, because they want Kieran *and the new baby* to grow up in Ireland!" Assumpta sounds as if she's jumping up and down, or at least bouncing on her toes as she shares her happy news.

"A baby? Oh, how wonderful, I'm so happy for them, and happy they are coming home, too! That's fabulous news, Sis!" Maggie is not muting her voice, but even in excitement, she does not say Assumpta's name out loud. "When are they coming home?"

"In a couple of months, I think, not very long at all. Don't say anything to anyone but Brendan and Siobhan for now, though, and after Niamh answers my e-mail, I'll let you know if we can plan a public homecoming party, or if it's to be a suprise. I think a party's in order, though, don't you?" Assumpta is clearly excited, and thinking in "hostess mode", Maggie can tell.

"Sure, but we need to do some real thinking, here, Sis. Peter Clifford literally followed me home last night, said the Bishop nearly threatened him to keep him away from me. He wanted the straight scoop on my religious beliefs, so I told him. I didn't succeed in scaring him away, I guess I should have lied through my teeth, and brandished an athame at him, but I couldn't, so he will probably be in town on a regular basis. If we want to hold a homecoming party for Niamh, he's going to come, no way around it, so you can't. At least, not unless you want to re-think the whole thing, and give the man a call, work something out?" Maggie's voice is clear and calm. "Just asking, you know, no pressure, you know me better than that!"

"That's one of the reasons I called this morning, Maggie," Assumpta said. "I sat and watched Niamh and Sean, Brendan and Siobhan, yesterday, and I do want what they have. I want a husband, and a family, children. But I want what they have, not what Niamh and Ambrose had, not what my parents had. I don't want to fight and scream and yell, and see my kids go to bed in tears, wondering if their Dad is going to be gone in the morning. I don't know if I can have that with Peter Clifford. I don't know if I want to try. But I don't know how I can be sure, unless I talk to him, have it out, and ask him if he can love me and the Church he serves, and yet not condemn me for not loving his Church, not hate me if I don't let our children be raised in his Church."

"Honey, I agree, you have to know, you have a right to know. He loved you, he still loves you, I can tell, but he might not be able to love you freely, I don't know. Do you want me to do anything?" Maggie's calm face is smiling.

"No, not yet, I need to think, and, well, to pray." Assumpta sighs.

"So do I, Sis, so do I. One thing to consider in all this, you know, is that in one way, you and Peter are more alike than you were. You used to think of all religion as superstition, you didn't believe in anything spiritual at all, you really were a true atheist. Now you're not, plainly. Maybe Peter could be more understanding, knowing that you do have a faith, even though it's not his faith." Maggie is probing, ever so gently.

"No, he probably won't understand, Maggie. The Church tolerates no other faiths, no other gods, you know that, as well as I." Assumpta finds her free hand clenching, she deliberately spreads the fingers wide again, stretching them.

"Well, we can give him a chance, though, like I told Siobhan last night, after he left, I don't know how I am going to claim I did no harm when he finds out you're alive, and we were testing him, and he failed!  I think he's gonna be kinda angry, I think I better get out the asbestos underwear when he finds out!" Maggie tries to lighten the mood.

"Yeah, and send me a set, too, before I come down to that homecoming party!" Assumpta giggles. "Listen, let me e-mail Niamh and Siobhan, and you and Siobhan talk, and we'll get this worked out. I don't know yet if I want to see him alone at first, or if I want you all with me, but we'll work it out, okay?"

"We will, Sis, and you know, I'll be there for you, whatever you decide. We all will. We'll make him see reason, somehow, even if we have to pour truth syrup in his eyeballs!" Maggie has a grin on her face now.

"Oh, you and your potions! What does my kitchen smell like these days? It's your cooking that chases the customers away, Maggie, not Kathleen's rumors and gossip!" Assumpta is also grinning.

"Hey, now, don't knock it! It got you out of a tight squeeze once, you know!" Maggie is clearly only pretending to be affronted, but then she sighs, "and into a tighter squeeze still, it seems. But it'll all come out in the wash, I hope. Even asbestos underwear washes!"

"I have to go, Maggie, we both do, but I'll call tonight, once we get some things worked out. And we don't need to rush, either, we don't have a party to go to tomorrow, Niamh and Sean won't be home for several more weeks." Assumpta straightens her shoulders, she feels a weight lifting.

"Yeah, two months will give me time to get Kathleen Hendley married and gone off to England, I think. I think I can manage to fan those sparks into a flame!"

"What? Kathleen? What in the world are you talking about!" Assumpta clearly has not heard this tidbit of information before.

"Oh, yeah, I guess I haven't been telling you all the village news, have I? Kathleen had an old boyfriend visit her, from England, a couple of years ago, and he's been back a few times since. I was joking with Frankie this morning that we had to find a way to get him to pop the question, so that Kathleen wouldn't be alone anymore. Maybe now that Father Mac is out of the picture, Kathleen will recognize what a good man Dermot is, and decide to make a grab for happiness after all." Maggie waits for Assumpta to respond, and there is a pause before the answer comes.

"What's that old song you sing, Maggie?" Assumpta asks her friend. "You know, 'If you can't be with the one you love'.......?"

"Honey, Love the One You're With!" Maggie laughs heartily, and Assumpta joins in. "Okay, Sis, I have to go, it's almost time to formally open, and I have to get the sun tea on ice, I'm determined to convert this town to the joys of ice tea on a summer's day, and since we are going to be hot, hot, hot today, maybe this is the day the great conversion starts!" Maggie laughs

"Good luck on the iced tea, Maggie, but if you convert Brendan, I may have to fall down and kiss your boots!" Assumpta teases. "Bye for now, Maggie, I'll call again tonight."

"Bye, Sis, talk to you soon! We'll get things sorted, I promise." Maggie hangs up the phone.

"And you said you never tried to convert people!" Peter Clifford leans into the pub, each hand braced on one side of the door frame.

"Have you no parish to go to?" Maggie turns to face him. "This listening in on private phone calls is getting to be a bad habit of yours, Father, but since you have, you might as well know, I've already got one faithful follower, he didn't need any converting!"

"Who's that? Oh, can I come in?" Peter Clifford asks.

"Come on in, I can't sell you anything, but I can offer you some of the sacred nectar, and you can see why I think everyone ought to abandon their diet cola for this stuff!" Maggie steps behind the bar, gets a glass of ice, and, bringing a glass jar in from the kitchen, she pours an amber liquid over the ice. A saucer with a slice of lemon is set next to the glass, and a bowl of sugar follows. "Have a glass of iced tea, Father Clifford!"

He sips, gingerly, and sets the glass down. "So," he asks, "who's your faithful follower?"

"Father Sheehan." Maggie replies. Peter Clifford's eyebrows go up, and he laughs. "Well, what can you expect, between growing up in the tropics and then living in a rain forest, he must have learned to drink anything cold that came his way. Good one, Maggie, you were having me on, weren't you, with all that 'conversion' stuff!"

"Well, I didn't know you were there, when I was talking to my friend, but once I saw you, I couldn't help myself. You deserved a teasing, in payment for eavesdropping again, you know." Maggie pours herself a glass of iced tea as well, adding sugar and stirring. "So, what brings you back to BallyK again? Cilldargan is going to sue St. Joseph's for alienation of affection, if you aren't careful!" Maggie takes a long drink from her glass.

"I spent the morning going over parish personnel records, and decided it was time I started meeting my colleagues, and where better to start than here, since Father Sheehan lives in the same town as my favorite pub, and I can get here just in time for an early lunch!"

"I see your point, and odds are Father Sheehan will join us soon, too, for some of this cold stuff, so I had better get that second jar of sun tea off the step and in the fridge, and Fionn needs his mid-day pills, too, poor boy. Kieran and Aisling ran him ragged yesterday, and he loved every minute of it." Maggie sighs. "My only failing as a dog-mom, I have been repeatedly informed, is my unwillingness to provide human pups for my dogs to play with!" Maggie goes back into the kitchen.

Peter hears her open the refrigerator door open, and speaks up a bit to be heard. "Should I take down your door signs, since it's legal to be open now?"

"Oh, yes, please do, thanks." Maggie answers him. He moves to the doorway, takes down one cord, then the other, and just then sees Vincent Sheehan's red Granada pull up at the curb. Peter steps forward to greet the tall blonde man, and puts out his hand, which is warmly and firmly shaken. "Maggie told me you'd be by, so I waited," Peter tells Vincent, as both men head for
the shaded interior of the pub, and sit at the bar.

"Whew, it's gonna be hot this afternoon!" Peter remarks, as he adds sugar to his glass, and sips. "I think I can see why you and Maggie like this stuff, if you can just get over the initial revulsion!"

"Hey, you watch it, you stodgy Brit, this is the finest Ceylon leaf here, brewed carefully by the bright blessed sunshine of a lovely morning, and should be consumed in wonder and thanks for it's delicacy and refreshment potential!" Maggie pours Vincent a glass, which he downs in one long draw.

"An you think this is hot?" Vincent Sheehan turns to the older priest. "Mate, you have no idea!" Maggie pours him another glass, which he takes a sip from, and then asks "So, Father Clifford, would you like to come have lunch with me?  I'll be happy to go over the records from the church, we can stop by the sacristy and get them on the way to the house."

"Well, I was going to buy you lunch here, actually, Father, or may I call you Vincent?" Peter glances upwards. He had always considered himself tall, but the Australian tops him by several inches.

"Vin is fine, Peter, if you don't mind, and yeah, I could do with something other than my own cooking, I guess." Vincent settles himself more comfortably on his stool.

"How about a salad and sandwiches, gentlemen, since I did not even consider soup this morning?" Maggie asks them.

"That's great, Maggie, whatever you have on hand!" Peter responds. "Shall we move to a table, Vin?"

"Yeah, sure," Vincent Sheehan answers the older priest, his new superior. He wonders what the real reason for this visit is, if the mass rock wedding of his best friend is the reason, or something else, and almost braces himself as the two men seat themselves. Maggie goes into the kitchen. She has seen Peter Clifford's persona shift, move from friendly banter to a pastoral mode, and decides to observe quietly if she can. She does not listen to the conversation, but watches for body language instead.

She brings sandwiches and a large bowl of green salad, extra plates, and flatware, and asks, "Something different to drink, Father Clifford?"

"Thank you, yeah, a glass of lager would be good, how about you, Vin?"

"Nope, gonna stick with the good stuff, Peter. You better drive careful, though, Frankie Sullivan likes to breathalyze the clergy!" He chuckles, Peter looks at him inquisitively, and he begins to explain, while Maggie goes back behind the bar. It is not long before other customers do begin to arrive, they seat themselves, order meals or drinks, and while Maggie is not run off her feet, she is clearly doing decent business. As the two priests get up to leave, she steps to the door and outside with them, and takes Father Clifford's hand, shaking it, then letting go. He looks startled.

"I think you must be good luck, Father, I haven't had lunch business like this in months! Maybe since the town saw you stayed here for the funeral, and have eaten here, they'll quit being so superstitious, and come around more often. Oh, and my horse thanks you, too, if I'm busy here then I'm not up at the Byrne farm, riding him, the poor old thing!" Maggie smiles

"Poor old thing!" Vincent Sheehan exclaims. "That fire-breathing devil is no more old than I am, and would take the hand off you soon as look at you! What do you have Danny feed him, turpentine?"

"Now, Father Sheehan, that's a fine way to talk about a 20 year old retired pleasure horse!" Maggie answers.

"Twenty?! Not bloody likely, he'd run The Cat into the ground, he would!" Vincent tells Peter.

"He probably would, but she can't help being a Thoroughbred, they just aren't stayers, not against a horse with bloodlines like Iblis. However, I promise never to challenge Avril to a race, either, Father, so don't let her worry about having The Cat humiliated. Iblis really is twenty now, and I won't risk his health for anything. Now, you have to excuse me, I have to get back inside. I'll put lunch on your tab, Father Clifford, okay?" She does not wait for an answer, but turns and goes back through the doorway, and then behind the bar. The two men, clad in black, decide to make for the shady coolness of St. Joseph's, and walk down the street. The camera pulls back, showing Ballykissangel's main street, starting to shimmer with heat haze in the noontime summer sun.