Tuesday morning dawns partly cloudy in Ballykissangel, and Orla and Connor stretch and blink, smiling at each other as they get out of bed in their room above Fitzgerald's pub.

"Well, our first day on the job, eh?" Orla asks Connor, as both exit their bathroom.

"Yeah, but I'm not so sure I like the idea of doin' this for the rest of my life! I gotta admit, Orla, I didn't think Maggie was gonna leave for good, but you were right, she did pull a runner after all, if that video she left is to be believed. I'm sorry I didn't listen to ya." Connor shakes his head, having towelled his hair dry.

"I just wish I hadn't been right, luv!" Orla sits heavily on the side of the bed, and sighs. "Well, if wishes were horses then beggars would ride, guess we better get to work, it's only three days 'til Christmas on Friday, an' we'll need to decorate the place up."

"Bet Maggie wouldn't like Christmas decorations!" Connor pulls a shirt over his head.

"Nah, she put some up last year, says it's a secular holiday in America, and besides, Maggie isn't here anymore!" Orla grabs Connor from behind, wrapping her arms around his waist. Connor grins, and manages to turn around in his beloved's arms, wrapping her into his bearlike grip.

"Oh, yeah! You *sure* we need to get to work right now?" Connor asks? Orla grins back, and shakes her head briefly, before planting a kiss on the big man's lips.

In Dublin it is raining on Tuesday morning. Peter rolls over and notices Assumpta has already gotten up, then realizes why as he hears her in the bathroom. He jumps up quickly, and goes to kneel beside his wife as she leans over the commode.

"Too much excitement yesterday, or morning sickness?" he asks, helping a pale Assumpta to rise to her feet. She simply shakes her head, and goes to the sink, rinsing her face, then her mouth with cool water. She blots her face with the towel, and turns to lean against Peter.

"Could be either, but I suppose it's time to put the saltines beside the bed," Assumpta mutters into Peter's shoulder.

"You just go back to bed, 'Sumpta, I'll bring you some tea and toast up from the kitchen." Peter helps his wife back to bed, where she lies back down, snuggling into the comforter he pulls over her.

"Thank you, Peter!" Assumpta whispers, as Peter bends over, gently kissing her cheek.

On a windy island off the west coast of Scotland, Maggie MacAllister also awakens to a new day. She gets up, and the minute she sets a bare foot on the stone floor of her room, a small surge of energy runs up her leg. A big smile crosses her face as she stands and walks down the hall to the bathroom, pulling a robe over her shoulders as she goes. A few moments later, Maggie emerges again, and trots down the stairs into a hallway, then into a dining room, where she is greeted by a man and a woman of about her age, already drinking tea as they sit at the large wooden table. Maggie pours herself a cup of tea at the sideboard, and seats herself across from the couple.

"Thanks so much for inviting me, Mary, Alisdair, it's very kind of you!" Maggie smiles at her husband's cousin and his wife.

"Well, of course you're invited, Maggie, any time you want a break from running the pub there in County Wicklow. You're family here, kin, and you're always welcome!" Mary McAlister answers her cousin by marriage. "How many years ago was it, Maggie, that you and Bobby first came over to meet us?"

"Oh, goodness, at least ten!" Maggie answers. "Say, can I help with breakfast? I'm used to living alone, or else fixing meals for guests, not having someone else cook for me."

"No, no, dear, don't worry, we'll go out for breakfast, if you aren't too tired from your trip. And didn't you say you hosted a wedding reception yesterday, too?" Mary asks.

"Yeah, but I had alot of help, Mary, I'm not tired, not after a good night's sleep here! I haven't slept so well in weeks, really!" Maggie does indeed look as if a weight has been lifted from her shoulders, sitting at a waxed wooden table with pale daylight streaming in through windows in the stone walls of the room. She finishes her tea, and stands. "I'll go shower and dress, then, unless we have to take turns? Does your water heater handle more than one shower at a time? Ours at home didn't, Bob and I had to take turns, but then we were on a well, not city water, and it was pressure as much as the heater that we had to worry about."

"You go ahead and get ready, Maggie." Alisdair McAlister stands. "We'll be fine, an' we're in no hurry, I'm retired, you remember, and we've no time schedule to keep, nor anywhere we have to be." He is a tall man, taller even than his cousin, her former husband, Maggie realizes, and she smiles up at him, and takes his hand.

"Thank you again, Alisdair, I really appreciate you letting me stay for a couple of weeks, I did really need a break, this last summer was really busy, I hadn't seen anything like it before, and I almost hope I don't again, although it didn't hurt the bottom line!"

Alisdair pats Maggie's hands comfortingly. "Never you worry, dear, you're like a sister to us, and you can stay as long as you like. Your young couple, Orla and Connor is it, they can handle the pub by themselves, you said, and it'll be some time before the trade picks up again. We love having the company, with the children all gone the old place seems quite empty!"

"Speaking of the kids, your children will be here for Christmas, surely, and the grandchildren, too?" Maggie turns to ask Mary, who is pouring herself another cup of tea at the sideboard.

"Oh, yes, they'll all be here, an' for the weekend, too. The place will be Bedlam, Maggie, you might long for your quiet Irish pub before you planned!" Mary chuckles as she stirs sugar into her tea.

"Ha ha ha, I don't think so, Mary, I won't mind some kids racing around, since they won't be screaming for pints!" Maggie laughs out loud, then turns and heads back upstairs.

Mary and Alisdair smile at their cousin as she leaves the room, then Alisdair in turn heads off to their bathroom, as Mary sits down to enjoy a second cup of tea while her husband showers.

Back in Ballykissangel, later in the morning, Orla and Connor open Fitzgerald's doors for business, and as Orla monitors the soup in the kitchen, Connor prepares to tend the bar. Their first customer is more of a visitor, however, as Aidan O'Connell comes in, hanging a jacket on a peg by the door, and stepping behind the bar, shaking hands with Connor Devlin, and then stepping up beside his sister as she stands at the stove.

"So, did the wedding ceremony go well yesterday, up at Sean and Niamh's place, then?" The slight brown-haired man sniffs appreciatively at the soup. "An' since when have you become a cook?"

Orla punches her younger brother gently in the shoulder. "Oh, you! Just because I always let Oonagh and Maggie cook doesn't mean I didn't know how! An' you ought to recognize the smell of this, it's Mum's favorite soup!"

"That it is, I thought so! You've got a customer for lunch, as soon as it's ready!" Aidan turns to the sink. "Can I put a kettle on?"

"Sure!" his sister answers him. "As long as you let me make the tea, I can't drink that creosote you brew, I'd rather swill the dregs from the oldest barrel of stout in the cellar than that!"

Connor guffaws from the doorway, and slaps Aidan on the shoulder as he steps back out to the common room. "Pull ya a pint, Aidan?" the tall man asks.

"All right, but no dregs, please," the slighter man answers. Just as he sits and sips a first taste of his lager, the bell on the front door rings, and a silver-haired man steps into the pub, carrying a medium-sized suitcase in one hand. Connor Devlin goes pale, and Orla O'Connell steps out of the kitchen, her welcoming smile suddenly freezing on her face. Aidan looks at his sister and her boyfriend, puzzled, then turns to the elderly gentleman as he approaches the bar.

"Hello, is Maggie MacAllister here?" the man sets down his bag.

Orla and Connor exchange a single look, and Orla steps out from behind the bar.

"No, I'm sorry, she's not. She's left for a couple of weeks' vacation with cousins in Scotland. She didn't tell us she was expecting visitors, though, did she know you were coming?" Orla's face is open, and her concience clear, she and Connor have decided to be honest, if not helpful.

The silver-haired man's face falls. "Well, I thought she was, did she leave you a phone number she could be reached at? I can call her and let her know I'm here, maybe she thought I wasn't coming after all, since I hadn't written since November." James O'Connor sits heavily on one of the stools.

"She didn't leave a number, but she might call here in the next few days. If we have your name and some way to contact you, we can ask her to call you." Orla takes a pencil and piece of paper from near the till. "What's your name, then, an' where are you stayin', in Dublin or Wicklow?"

"James, James O'Connor, and I was hoping to stay here, actually, if you've got the room, that is?" Light dawns on Aidan's face upon hearing the name he saw printed on dispensation papers just the previous month. He wonders how Orla will handle the uncomfortable situation.

"Well, Mr. O'Connor, we don't usually get guests at this time of year, but we've room, so you can stay, of course. Then, if Maggie calls, you can speak to her directly. Will you step over here, please, and register?" Orla exudes professional courtesy.

Aidan leans forward over the bar, motioning Connor forward as well. "Are you going to call Maggie and tell her he's here?" he whispers to the taller man.

"Can't," Connor answers, "no phone number!"

"Thank you, Mr. O'Connor, my name is Orla O'Connell, and this is my husband, Connor Devlin, and my brother, Aidan O'Connell." Orla has turned back to the bar area, and introduces the two men there.

Connor's eyebrows lift a bit, but he steps forward and takes the older man's hand, followed by Aidan, who does the same.

"Father O'Connell?" James asks, noting the black shirt and white collar under the younger man's sweater.

"Yes, yes, I'm the curate here, at St. Joseph's, just up the street." Aidan smiles, wondering if he dares reveal his knowledge of O'Connor's history as a priest and his release from his vows. Deciding on discretion, Aidan offers no more. Orla heaves a tiny sigh of relief.

"Well, then, Mr. O'Connor, my husband will take your bag up to a room, would you like to get settled, and then join us for lunch?" Orla moves next to Connor at the bar.

"Please, call me Jim, and yes, I'd love some lunch in a little while, thank you!" Connor picks up the bag, noting the key number missing from the board, and heading up the stairs towards the corresponding room. The silver-haired man follows.

As soon as the two disappear upstairs, Aidan leans forward and whispers to his sister, "So, when did you and Connor get married, then? An' what'll ya tell Maggie if she does call?"

"Well, I could hardly introduce Connor as my lover, now could I? And Aidan, Maggie isn't goin' to call, she isn't comin' back!" Orla whispers back.

"What?!" Aidan sits upright, his face showing his shock.

"No, she's done a runner, we don't know if she's in Scotland or not, and we don't think she's comin' back. She knew he was comin', and she couldn't face him. Now that I've met him, I don't know why, he seems nice enough, but I suppose it's what he stands for, not just him."

"Well, thank you!" Aidan's voice is hurt.

"Oh, you know very well what I mean, Aidan. He's a reminder of all her loss and pain, not the church!" Orla answers her brother, then turns towards the stairs as she hears footsteps. "Oh," Aidan's answer comes, then he, too, turns, to see Connor coming downstairs alone. Orla motions Connor into the kitchen, and Aidan follows the pair.

"Well, how long d'ya think we can stall him here?" Connor sits at the kitchen table, pouring himself a cup of the tea which is now both cold and bitter. He sips, then pulls a face and sets the cup down. Aidan stands and puts the kettle on again.

"Well, maybe the whole two weeks, maybe not. What if Maggie calls? Do you think she left Assumpta a number, or would call her?" Orla muses.

"Hey, yeah, call Assumpta, call her now, from in here, an' I'll go out and stall O'Connor for a few minutes!" Connor Devlin stands and goes back out to the bar. Orla also steps out front, lifts a receiver and dials a number, then pulls the phone into the kitchen, it's long cord trailing behind, and nearly shuts the door on it, leaving only a small crack. The phone rings twice, then is answered.

"Assumpta?" Orla asks, "Oh, hi, Peter, this is Orla, is Assumpta there? Oh, at the doctor's? Say, can you ask her to call me when she gets back? Yeah, no, Maggie hasn't called, but guess who showed up on the doorstep this morning? Yes, James O'Connor, in the flesh! No, we haven't told him more than the public story, Maggie's gone to Scotland for two weeks or so. Did Maggie leave you a phone number? No? Drat, no, she didn't leave us one, either! Well, we're goin' to stall him a few days at least." Orla hears a door open and close in the background, and suddenly Assumpta's voice joins Peter's on the line.

"Orla? Yeah, I'm okay, just a bit of morning sickness starting up. So, did you hear from, no, what? Oh, bright blessed Lady! What are you tellin' him? Ah..., no, no call an' no number here, either. Yeah, I guess all ye' can do is stall him an' hope Maggie calls. Say, Peter an' I can come down if ya want us to, even today if ya like. No, I can travel, an the bar's so quiet, besides the fact that Bonnie was plannin' on us takin' a honeymoon, even though we didn't ask, an' she's got the business covered. Okay, how about tomorrow? Well, if you're sure." Peter and Assumpta exchange worried looks.

In BallyK, Orla speaks again. "Say, tell ya what, I'll get someone to cover the pub here, tomorrow or the next day, an' Connor and me'll come up to Dublin. We can offer to drive Imelda back to Sean and Niamh's for Christmas, but before we do, we can stop in there, and maybe, workin' together, we can reach Maggie?" Orla's voice is hopeful.

Peter, in Dublin, speaks next. "Better yet, see if Sean and Niamh, or maybe Brendan and Siobhan, or all of them, can come with you. I think Assumpta and I ought to use this license now, not later. Then Sean and Niamh can take Imelda back with them, an you and Assumpta can try and reach Maggie." Peter's voice is clearly concerned, although neither Orla nor Assumpta knows about what. Assumpta answers.

"Peter, you don't think I'm goin' runnin' after Maggie, do ya? I thought we wanted to have the civil ceremony after the holidays, when things had settled down a bit?" Assumpta's voice is worried.

"I don't know, 'Sumpta, somethin' just tells me not to wait, an' why should we, we've got the license, and we're already wed in the eyes of God an' all our friends, let's make it legal now, too, please?" Peter's plea is clear even to Orla at Fitzgerald's.

"Oh, Peter, dear, don't worry, everything's going to be all right! But if you really want to, and our friends can come, then yes, we can try for Wednesday or Thursday. Orla, I'll call Niamh and Siobhan, then, and call you back, all right?" Assumpta sounds calm and assured.

"Grand, thanks, Assumpta, let me know what works for everyone, all right? I'll be waitin for your call!" Orla says a quick goodbye to the couple in Dublin, and hangs up just as she hears footsteps on the stairs. She turns to see Aidan stirring the soup, and busies herself taking out bread and meat for sandwiches, just as Connor engages their guest in conversation for a moment. Shortly thereafter, he shows the older man back into the kitchen.

"I hope you don't mind eating in the kitchen, Jim, I thought you might feel strange eating out there all by yourself, and you're welcome to join the family meal here, if you like?" Orla is all smiles and welcoming gestures, and James O'Connor sees the table set with four places.

"Thank you, that's very kind, if I won't be intruding!" he answers.

"Not at all, not at all!" Connor insists, seating himself at one side of the round table, Orla settling opposite him, and Aidan gesturing to the older man to take one of the other chairs as he carries a tureen of soup to the table. He then seats himself, and looks at Orla. Connor speaks instead.

"Aidan, will you say grace, please?" He and Orla cross themselves and bow their heads. Aidan tries mightily, but his eyebrows raise, still, he also bows his head, and says the blessing. James O'Connor answers with an "Amen" along with everyone else. and they begin their meal.

General conversation soon turns to questions directed at the guest, asking him how he knows Maggie, is he a relative, how long he is going to be in Ireland, is he retired, etc. Connor volunteers information about his fishing boat, Orla about working at the pub, and then she asks, "What are you retired from, then, Jim?" She and Connor prepare themselves to act suprised.

"Well, um, actually, I used to be a Roman Catholic priest, in America, that is." James O'Connor clearly does not intend to deceive or even obfuscate the truth, even if he is a bit uncomfortable in telling it. Suprisingly, even Aidan manages to show suprise, although it is more over the older man being so open than the avowed profession, though James does not know it.

"Oh, my, James, uh, Father James, you mean you've retired from the ministry, and decided to visit Ireland as the home of your family, then, and just happened to find out an old friend lives here now?" Orla's question seems innocent enough, though Aidan and Connor both know she is probing straight for the truth, already knowing it.

"Well, no, not really. I don't know if Maggie ever mentioned me, or if you are close?" James looks Orla right in the eye.

"She's like a sister to me an' to Connor, if not to Aidan, whom she hasn't known as long," Orla answers directly back.

"Well, if she hasn't mentioned me, then perhaps I shouldn't say more. Thank you for the delicious lunch, I believe I'll take a walk, if you don't mind. Father Aidan, would you be willing to show me the way to your church?" James O'Connor stands.

"Father, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude, it's just, well, Maggie really is like a sister to me, an' I've noticed she's been very worried and upset recently, an I thought, if you were an old friend, you might know why?" Orla leans towards the older man.

"No, please, just Jim, I'm not a priest anymore, Orla. I've been released from my vows and service. I'm sorry if Maggie's been upset, I wish I knew why, or a way to reach her. She hasn't been ill, has she?" James O'Connor's face has gone pale and tight, worry is clear there.

"No, no, she's been fine, although this summer was very busy, I understand, though I've only been here a couple of months, myself." Aidan stands, deciding to divert the older priest's attention from Orla and Connor. "Yes, James, I will certainly show you the way to St. Joseph's, let me get my coat, and you'll want yours, too, it's begun to rain." Aidan steps out into the pub, holding the door open, and after a moment of looking at Orla and Connor's faces, James follows him, then goes upstairs to retrieve his coat. Aidan opens the door to the kitchen again, and whispers to Orla, "Watch the play-acting, Orla, he's not stupid!" then closes it again as the older man joins him from upstairs. They leave, and Orla and Connor listen for the closing of the front door, then both rise and look out into the front room to make sure they are alone.

"Well, I don't think he suspects we know anything, an' we better keep it that way!" Connor takes Orla into his arms. "He's not an ogre, but we'll talk to Assumpta later, and then let Maggie make the next move, if she wants to, whadya' think?" Orla nods silently, then both step into the front room as the door swings open, admitting Siobhan and Brendan, with Aisling in tow. The three sit down to lunch, Siobhan taking a break from her business, with Brendan and Aisling on holiday from school. Siobhan and Orla exchange whispered sentences, since Assumpta has called with the invitation to Dublin, but not told Siobhan about Maggie and James, let alone James' presence in BallyK. Orla and Siobhan agree to speak later, just as the phone rings. Orla answers it.

"Yeah, Assumpta! No, no word from Scotland, what's the plan? Yeah, Thursday, ten o'clock in the morning? We'll be there, absolutely. Yeah, Siobhan and Brendan are here, I'll tell them. Okay, we'll see you then, at the wine bar, and go to the registry office from there. We can have a nice lunch, surely there'll be places open in Dublin, even on Christmas Eve. Thanks, Assumpta!" Orla hangs up the phone, and goes to the table where the family is eating, letting them know the time and plans, just as James O'Connor comes back into the pub, removing a sopping raincoat. Connor Devlin steps forward.

"Here, Mr. O'Connor, let me hang that by the fire. Will you be wanting anything more here at the bar, or would you like tea or coffee brought to your room?" Connor is all the professional host.

"Oh, no, thank you, no caffeine, I need a nap, I'm afraid, the plane flight's caught up with me. What time is dinner?" the older man answers.

"Any time, Father, whenever you'd like, and I can bring it up to your room, too, if you prefer, just let me know when you wake up. I hope it won't get too noisy for you down here in the bar, I expect a few of the regulars later." Orla joins Connor, bright and efficient.

"Just Jim, Orla, thank you. No, I'm sure I can sleep through whatever noise, and I'll come downstairs for supper, that's fine, don't go to any extra trouble for me. Oh, but, except if Maggie calls, please wake me up, all right?!"

"Certainly!" Orla answers, and James O'Connor turns and climbs the stairs. His shoulders are stooped, whatever time he spent in prayer at St. Joseph's seemingly gave him little hope.

Orla and Connor look at each other, then turn to Siobhan, who stands and motions to Orla. Connor goes to the table to talk to Aisling, while Orla and Siobhan speak.

"Father?" Siobhan's question is quiet and succinct.

"Remember at Niamh's baby shower last summer, when Maggie told us about losin' her babies, and all?" Orla asks in turn.

"Yeah, an' about the priest she fell in love with.." Siobhan's eyes turn towards the upstairs, and Orla simply nods her head. "Hmmmmm!" is Siobhan's only reply. The veterinarian rejoins her family, and they finish their lunch, then leave, with the parting of "See you for lunch tomorrow!" Orla and Connor wave, but soon are busy, as some regulars do begin to trickle in with the rain, ordering pints and chips, some others asking for lunch, as a rainy afternoon wears on in Ballykissangel.