In the McAllister household on New Year's Eve, a large family gathering includes a last-minute guest. James O'Connor finds himself swept into a family he barely knew existed, and quite caught up, at the moment, in a game with several small children, involving much giggling. Maggie sits in the kitchen with her husband's cousin's wife, Mary. Supper is over, dishes are washing, and the two older women are sipping tea while the younger crowd and menfolk pass the time until midnight in a noisier fashion.

"Maggie, I've seen the way James looks at you, so don't try to deny it, he's in love with you, and you know it. Just who is he, really?"
 Mary McAllister leans forward, and lays a hand over her American cousin's as it rests on the tabletop.

"Mary, promise you won't hate me?" Maggie's face is conflicted and worried.

"Hate you? Of course not! But I know that he's more than just an old friend from America, too, so do tell all!"

"Well, yes, he does love me, and I love him, too, have for years and years, since we met. But he was, um, unavailable, and I knew it, so I went on and made a life. Mary, you have to believe that I loved Bobby, I really did, or I'd never have married him! And I never cheated on him, Jimmy really wasn't 'the other man', I promise!"

"Oh, Maggie, of course he wasn't, but Bobby's been gone nearly five years, and James' wife must be, too, or he'd not have followed you here from America. He's quite serious about you, and besotted, if I know anything at all about men. Are you serious about him? He's much older than you, isn't he? Well, that is, I suppose a little while together is all you'd have. Oh, dear, that didn't sound good, did it, I'm sorry!"

"No, Mary, you're just saying some of what I've been thinking. I can't help myself, I want to be happy with him, but I'm afraid, too. He wasn't married, Mary, he was a priest. He's left the Church, after years as a priest, and came all this way to find me. He wants to marry me, but I'm afraid he doesn't really know me, or have any idea of what he's really asking. How can he have a clue, he's lived alone for years and years, not to mention he was celibate! What if he decides I'm not worth leaving the Church for?" Maggie has
found herself blurting out far more than she intended, clearly more upset and worried than she realized. She sits back in the chair, slumped, her face pinched and wrinkled.

"A priest! Oh, my! I mean, well, I know this happens, it happens here, too, but usually it's all hushed up, they just get 'transferred', and a new priest comes in, no questions answered, even if they get asked. But Maggie, if he came all this way, surely he understood what he was doing? And the way he looks at you, you needn't worry, he's not leaving of his own free will!" Mary tries to project confidence, despite her own misgivings over what she has discovered is a much more complicated situation than she guessed at.

"Well, I don't know if I hope you're right or not, Mary. But hey, it's the holidays, we're supposed to be merry and bright. Besides, I'm a tough old broad, I can hack it, if it turns out he can't, then he can take a hike, and good riddance to bad rubbish!" Maggie stands up, and visibly shakes herself, tossing her hair back, straightening her wool jacket, and putting on a bright smile. "Now, let's get out of this kitchen and see what all the children are getting up to. It sounds like a mess is erupting in your sitting room!" Maggie turns and marches out of the kitchen. Mary stands as well, crosses herself quickly, and follows.

In Dublin, Assumpta, Bonnie and Peter are all busy in the wine bar, hosting a crowd of happy people, waiting to welcome in the new year. There are couples sitting at tables, absorbed in each other, at other tables are groups of people, friends sharing the stories of their year or their day. As they pass, Peter and Assumpta share smiles, inhabiting their own little world of happiness, the bustle around them just a degree removed. Their world is warmer this New Year's Eve than either of them had ever hoped to dream the year before, their whole life stretching in front of them, filled with the love they once imagined as first impossible, then real, then suddenly gone in
dust and ashes. As the evening closes, some groups and couples leave, but others come, though the numbers gradually lessen. By midnight, only those few people Bonnie and Assumpta have come to view as their "regulars" are left, and everyone gathers together at the bar, raising glasses to propose toasts special to each of them.

Bonnie shooes Assumpta and Peter upstairs, vowing to close the bar and clean up herself. "You need your rest, Assumpta, and you and Peter haven't even taken a honeymoon yet. Go on, upstairs to bed, both of you!" Bonnie has taken on a motherly tone, despite being barely a year old than Assumpta. The pair smile, give their friend a hug and kiss, wish her "Happy New Year!", and go upstairs, both of them tired enough to slip swiftly into sleep in each other's arms, even with the sounds of a small party still going on below
them.

In Ballykissangel, Connor and Orla have closed Fitzgerald's before midnight, all their customers having headed home in the colder weather of the countryside of Wicklow. The two of them snuggle into blankets and quilts, the fire glowing and popping, the lights turned off, ready to welcome in the new year silently, just cuddling with each other, when the telephone rings. Orla struggles out of the wrappings, and scoots across the pub floor to catch it before the answering machine does.

"Fitzgerald's, how can I help you?" Orla has her professional voice on, assuming the call is some customer who left something behind. The voice on the other end of the line speaks, and Orla's face breaks into a grin, while she waves Connor over to the phone.

"Hi, Orla, Happy New Year!" Maggie MacAllister greets her young friend. "And to Connor, too, of course! Say, it's very quiet, are you closed already?"

"Yeah, yeah, everyone went home, it's gotten cold an' icy, and nobody wanted to be on the roads, so we closed." Orla answers. Connor goes into the kitchen and picks up the other line.

"So, Maggie, how are you? We haven't heard from you since we sent your priest off to Scotland!" A glint of mischief glows in Connor Devlin's eyes as he stretches the long cord out into the front of the pub to stand besided Orla. She smiles up at him, knowing he can't quite resist twitting their friend a bit.

"Oh, you young devil! 'My priest' indeed!" Maggie can't stop a laugh from erupting, mischief in her voice as well. "Let's just say I'm pretty sure he doesn't qualify to be a priest anymore! Or, at least, I've done my best to make sure he doesn't even want to qualify, whether they'd take him back or not!"

Orla and Connor guffaw, and then Orla pretends shock. "Maggie, do you mean to tell us you *seduced* that innocent gentleman we sent you?"

Another voice joins the conversation as James O'Connor, unable to resist, answers Orla and Connor in kind. "Now listen here, young lady, I won't have Maggie's honor impugned! *I* did all the seducing, I'll have you know!" Silver hair notwithstanding, James O'Connor's voice is bright with youth and happiness. Orla and Connor both stare at each other a moment, then both laugh.

Maggie leans away from James, and puts the phone back against her own ear and cheek. "Really, dears, I'm fine. I actually wanted to talk business a bit, as well as wish you a happy new year. I was wondering if you could stay on an extra day or two? I sort of wanted to take a quick side-trip to London while I'm here, if that's okay with you?"

"Sure, Maggie, we can stay on. We sort of thought we were here for good for a while, you know, right after you left." Orla answers.

"Yeah, that was the plan, but things changed." Maggie's voice drops a tone, and sounds heavier. O'Connor has left the room, re-joining Maggie's family gathering. "Listen, Orla, I'm probably going to be bringing Jim back with me, but I don't know if it's permanent, so don't make any announcements, okay? I have to talk to my solicitor in Dublin and get some things about Irish law straight, and go from there. I hope it doesn't get ugly, but I don't know, it might, after all. But I will fight my demons amongst friends, since it looks like I won't be endangering you all. Say, I have to go, it's almost midnight, and people are going to start knocking at the front door, but I wanted to have a quick chat. Have you heard from 'Sumpta or Peter, are they okay?"

"No, no word since they went back to Dublin, but I'm sure they'd have called if they needed to. If they do call, I'll let them know how it's going for you, shall I?" Orla and Connor exchange concerned looks, their friend's change of mood worrying them both.

"Sure, and tell them I love them, and will see them soon, okay?" Maggie's voice sounds more 'public' again, her cousin-in-law putting his head in the door to call her back into the sitting room.

"Absolutely, Maggie, you take care now, and Happy New Year!" Orla answers.

"Happy New Year, Maggie!" Connor adds, and both hear Maggie replying with her own "Happy Hogmanay, bye!" and the phone line click off. They return their handpieces to their respective phones, and both head silently back to their sofa, wrapping up as a pair.

"Do ya think she'll be all right?" Orla whispers.

"She will, and that O'Connor will either be good to her, or he'll see the back of my fist, just once, before he sees nothin' at all for an' hour!" Connor answers her, nearly growling.

Orla shudders, recognizing the truly serious threat her lover poses to the much smaller and older man. "I hope it won't come to that!" she replies. "He's not stupid, after all, and somehow I don't think Maggie will let it get that bad before she sends him packing. He won't even know he's left until he's on a plane somewhere over the Atlantic, if I know Maggie!"

Connor chuckles. "Yeah, well, you're probably right, she'd just enchant him into thinking his leaving was all his idea in the first
place, and that'd be that." The big sailor sighs, and wraps his arms tighter around his lover.

She snuggles against him, and sighs as well. "I won't borrow trouble from tomorrow, love, things will turn out how they will, and probably all for the best, so no sense in worrying now."

"Uh-hmm..."  Connor answers quietly, closing his eyes as he rests his chin on Orla's head.

"Mmmm..." Orla answers back, and closes her eyes as well. The fire glows softly, warming them both into sleep.

In Scotland, glasses are being raised, and drained, and soon the doorbell rings. In the back corner of the sitting room, James O'Connor has pulled Maggie into his arms, and kisses her.

"Happy New Year, Mags." Maggie's jaw drops. "How do you know that name, that was my Mom's nickname for me!" Suprise wars with indignation on her face.

"Shh, now, don't get upset, she used to call you that when she'd come to talk to either myself or Father Joe. She was worried about you for a while, you know?" O'Connor has unwrapped his arms, but retains hold of one of Maggie's hands. He reaches into his coat pocket.

"Worried? About what?" Maggie wracks her memories, trying to think what her mom might have spoken to priests about.

"She was afraid you were getting depressed, she said she'd heard you crying yourself to sleep more than once, and wanted to know if you were having 'boy trouble', she called it, that you hadn't told her about. Father Joe assured her you weren't seeing anyone in school, and that the teenaged years were often troublesome. Your grades were perfect, of course, so she was reassured that you
were okay. One time, when she spoke with me, I told her I'd keep an eye on you and make sure nothing bad was going on in school that she needed to worry about. Little did she know I couldn't take my eyes off you whenever I was in the same room with you, but Father Joe did. Boy, did I get a lecture from him! He pretty much told me, point blank, that I had better put up or shut up, so to
speak, that I couldn't have it both ways. He knew why you were crying yourself to sleep, too, but he didn't tell me about that, not until years later, after you'd gone off to college, and I was about to leave to lead my own parish. He warned me to let you get on with your own life, since I'd 'dithered away my chance', I think he said, and to leave you alone. So, well, I guess I made a short story long, but that's how I knew your nickname."

Doorbells ringing and knocks, with greetings, toasts, and conversations continue at or near the front door and in the sitting room, but the corner remains dim and quiet for a moment.

Finally, James whispers "Maggie?"

She lifts her face, and tears are streaking her cheeks. "Yes, I did cry myself to sleep, more than once, and over you, too, you wretch." she whispers in return. "But I never knew Mom heard me, I would never have wanted to worry her, she had enough to worry about! Now let me go, I want to be alone!" She pulls her hand out of his grip, and turns, swiftly gliding out of the room and then up the stairs, leaving James O'Connor standing, shocked still, for several minutes.

Mary McAllister notes her cousin-in-law leaving, and the former priest, alone, in the corner, but says nothing. Finally, O'Connor crosses the room to his hostess, and asks to speak to her privately for a moment. They step into the dining room.

"So, Mr. O'Connor, what have you said to upset Maggie so, and on Hogmanay, too?" Mary McAllister faces him squarely. They are of an age, the two of them, both older than Maggie, and Mary both protective and a bit curious, knowing more of the story than the ex-priest realizes.

"I called her by the nickname her mother used to use for her, and I must have touched a raw nerve, I didn't know it would upset her at all, let alone as much as it did! Can you tell me which room is hers, I need to talk to her, and make sure she's okay!" He looks towards the hall and staircase, lines furrowing his brows. Mary relents and relaxes.

"Second door on your left, James, and close it behind you. We'll be settling down soon, and you'll just wake us up when you leave, so just stay the night, and talk it all out with her. She's scared to death you're going to leave her, you know, and go back to your vocation. She's trying to put on a brave face, pretend she doesn't really care, but her heart would break, I know. Do you know how many losses that poor girl has suffered in the last five years, Father O'Connor? Too many, far too many, as if the good Lord had it
in for her, I'd think, if I didn't know better. So you'd better be good to her, priest, and not just be using her for a fling, and ready to run back and hide behind those black skirts at the first sign of trouble!"

James O'Connor's shocked face stares for a moment, until he realizes Maggie is indeed terrified, or she would never have told her cousin so much about their relationship. "Don't worry, Mary, I'd never leave her, and I'll make sure she knows it, too. Thank you for telling me, and thank you for welcoming me into your home and your family. He takes her hand and presses it for a moment between
his, then turns and takes the stairs two at a time.

Mary nods her head, and rejoins the rest of her family at the front of the house to greet the last of the callers. Her own children have already bundled up to go calling around the small town, leaving the grandchildren dozing on chairs and sofas. As the last caller leaves, she and her husband begin the task of getting the children to bed.

Upstairs, James has gone quietly into Maggie's room. "Honey? Please, honey, don't cry, and please don't be mad at me. If you hate it so much, I won't use your nickname any more. Please, honey, let's talk." His voice is soft, directed at the woman huddled in a ball under the blankets on the bed.

"Go 'way!" Maggie's exhortation is muffled by pillows.

"No, honey, we need to talk, c'mon now." He sits on the bed. leaning over and putting one arm around her.

"No!" Maggie's face appears, and she hisses a low "get OUT!", then throws the covers over herself again. James sits upright, then stands, and walks, not to the door, but to the straight chair in the corner. He sits down, removes shoes and socks, then stands, and hangs his jacket on the back of the chair. He again takes a small object out of the jacket pocket, and places it on the table next to the chair. He then removes his shirt and trousers, picks up the object, and walks back to the bedside, setting it on the bedside table, and sliding in, pulling what blankets he can manage over himself. He curls up around Maggie's hunched form, and whispers a soft "I love
you!" against the back of her neck, then lays still, waiting for Maggie to make the next move. Before long, he can feel and hear muffled sobbing begin again, and wraps his arms tighter. Maggie soon turns in his arms, and he rolls a bit backward, to lay on his back as she lays her head on his shoulder. He can feel the warmth and dampness of her tears soak his tee shirt as she cries, but says nothing, knowing her emotions must run their course. Finally, after several more minutes, she begins to sniffle more than sob, and
he strokes her hair, marveling again in the silken texture as it slips through his fingers.

"You are one stubborn bugger, aren't you?" Maggie whispers.

"I guess I am, and a stupid idiot, too. Maggie, can you ever forgive me for waiting thirty-two years to tell you that I loved you, and that I want to spend the rest of my life with you?" O'Connor whispers as well.

"Thirty-two! Can't you count? I waited thirty-four years to hear that from you, and some days I felt like I'd rather kill myself than wait
another single day!" Maggie begins to stiffen.

"Shhh, shhh, take it easy, there, would ya? I had to wait for two years after we met, or I'd have been up on a statutory count, at least. I was going to tell you after you turned 18, but then I chickened out, over and over, and talked myself out of it just one time more than I talked myself into it. I know I was a coward, I admit it, but now I've finally gotten up the nerve, please give me a chance to make good on the promises I wanted to make all those years ago!" O'Connor is whispering earnestly against Maggie's scalp, continuing to stroke the auburn hair.

"But Jim, what if, after a while, you find that you got the short end of the stick, and you want your old life back?"

"Maggie, darling, a ton of dynamite isn't going to pry me away from you, and I promise you I will stay with you for the rest of my life!"

"Jim, I..." and James O'Connor lays a finger across her lips. "Shh, honey, we can talk more later, but I Just wanted to make sure you
understood me completely. Maggie, I don't care if we never take any kind of public vows at all. As far as I'm concerned, I belong to you, and with you, and I will never, ever leave you until the moment I die. I tried living without you, these past four  years, and I can't do it. I love you, Maggie, and  I hope you can forgive me, and that you can love me, too, even just a tiny bit as much as I love you!"

There is a moment of silence, and then he feels her shoulders start to shake again, and hears her sobbing start anew. Finally, she quiets, and then whispers a soft "I love you, too, Jimmy."

He carefully rolls up on one elbow, and, as she slips back against the pillow, leans down to kiss her lips. His kiss is returned, and joy and passion surges through him, answered by her arms as they reach up to pull him close, as tears are washed away by ecstacy.