Ballykissangel Episode 9.7
"Heads I Win, Tails You Lose"
by Camille Partridge
James O'Connor wakens slowly, noticing the full darkness of the room, and
glances at the bedside clock. He sits up, pushing the quilt back on to the
bed as he drops his feet to the floor. He runs his hands through his hair,
pushing it back away from his face, stands, and goes into the bathroom to
splash water on his face. Rubbing the stubble on his chin, he glances at
his watch, shakes his head slightly, and leaves the bathroom, then the bedroom,
and heads down the stairs.
Maggie is tidying the empty pub, having locked the doors a quarter of an
hour earlier, at closing time. She glances up as she hears footsteps, and
smiles as sees Jim coming. "Nice nap?" she asks.
"More like a full night's sleep! And I left you with the whole job down here,
and you spent just as much time travelling as I did, and drove us home as
well! I'm a bum!" O'Connor steps up behind Maggie, puts his arms around her
waist, and kisses the back of her neck. "You go upstairs and get ready for
bed, and I'll clean up and wash up. I'm wide awake, and you must be beat!"
Maggie leans back against her lover for a moment, and sighs. "I'm going to
take you up on that offer, Jimmy, I am beat. But before I go up, I have to
tell you, that dream you had this afternoon was probably a true vision. I
got a call from Avril Burke, the stable owner, after you fell asleep. She
owns a mare she wants to breed to Iblis, a Thoroughbred mare who had a short
but winning racing career. She wrote to the Jockey Club, and they've tentatively
approved the breeding if Iblis can run a mile at the minimum standard speed.
That's not going to be easy for him, but I think he can do it. He's taller
than most Arabs, and comes from a bloodline that has racing close up in it's
history. Some of his purebred foals did well on the track, actually. But
it means he will be racing, even if it's only against the clock. I just wanted
you to know."
James O'Connor's arms tighten, holding Maggie against him. "I knew it wasn't
a nervous dream, Mags. Will you run him?"
"I don't know, Jimmy, I really do think he has a chance to make that time,
but I don't want to risk our lives just for him to sire a halfbred foal.
If I advertise him, he'd have purebred mares coming over from England, his
bloodlines are so rare, and I could, with a little veterinary cooperation,
breed mares on the Continent to him, purebred or warmblood mares for sport
horse foals, either one. He had one warmblood son that did very well as a
three day eventing horse back home, there might be breeders here who'd use
him. But if he had a foal running on the track here, if that foal won? He'd
die a happy stallion, let's just put it that way!" Maggie chuckles, and loosens
O'Connor's arms, then turns to face him. "I will find a way to thwart the
evil luck you've forseen, Jimmy, I am sure I will. I just feel too good right
now to believe anything bad can happen. Of course, now's when you ought to
put on your 'priest hat' and preach about pride going before a fall and all
that, so, if you're gonna do that, gime a minute to get a cup of coffee,
okay, and sit down?"
James O'Connor's face falls for a moment, then he sees the twinkling eyes,
and laughs out loud, pulling Maggie into a bear hug. "You are a TERRIBLE
tease, you know! How was a poor innocent, naive young priest like me ever
going to resist you?" Maggie pulls back, her face suddenly red.
"I NEVER, I swear I never, ever flirted or teased or any such thing, you
know I didn't, I would NEVER have done such a......" O'Connor puts a forefinger
across Maggie's lips, a wide smile on his face and his eyes twinkling in
turn. "Gotcha!" he says, and starts laughing himself.
"Ooooh, how did you ever get through the seminary without your classmates
performing an impromptu exorcism on you at least once a week, you sneaky
devil!" Maggie's laughter joins O'Connor's for a moment, then they lean against
each other for a minute's gentle hug.
"Well, I'm gonna go upstairs, Jim, don't be long, okay?" Maggie gently nibbles
O'Connor's earlobe. He shudders.
"That tickles! And I will be RIGHT THERE!" Maggie chuckles smokily, steps
back, then turns and does the best sashay she can manage up the stairs. She
hears glassware clinking behind her, but refuses to turn back, telling herself
that some broken glasses are a cheap price to pay for a night to remember
for a lifetime.
*****
In Dublin, Assumpta snuggles next to her sleeping husband. She and Bonnie
have closed the bar, while Peter slept, having handled the daytime traffic
earlier in the day. Above her head on the pillow a small grey cat rests,
purring happily, warm and well-fed for the first time in this particular
lifetime. She knows she is where she is supposed to be, and settles herself
in to wait for the birth of the soul she is here to meet. She and Assumpta
have clarified their relationship, and she has agreed to the name "Emma",
Assumpta having pointed out to Peter the two 'M's above her eyes, formed
by the black stripes running up her forehead before breaking over and flowing
down the back of her neck, to then swirl into circles behind her shoulders
and on her sides.
"There's just one problem, Peter. I had sort of thought of naming our baby
'Emily', if you liked it, and now I have to come up with another name. Peter,
you haven't said a single word about names, have you thought of anything
you'd like, is there a family name in your family that you are fond of?"
Assumpta is sitting on the bedside as Peter is brushing his teeth, having
taken a short break from the bar to "tuck Peter in", before going back downstairs.
Peter rinses toothpaste down the sink, then dries his hands and face before
switching off the light and walking across the room to slide between the
sheets. As he lays his head on the pillow, little Emma walks across to lay
on his chest, her nose nearly touching his chin, and one of his hands begins
to stroke the soft fur. The purring starts, and he smiles, the light weight
more than balanced by the warmth and affection this small creature exudes.
He had always thought he wanted a dog, some day, perhaps another red setter,
but this tiny kitty has charmed him thoroughly, bringing out a tenderness
in him that suprises him somewhat.
"Well, 'Sumpta, I've been looking at that book of names you got, an' I found
one I liked, but I've been a bit hesitant to tell ya, I'm worried ya won't
like it." Peter rests his head in one hand, behind him on the pillow, and
continues petting the little grey cat. Assumpta watches the pair, somewhat
bemused by how quickly the little waif has made herself at home.
"Tell me, Peter, I might love it, you never know until you try."
"Well, what would ya think of 'Theodora Rose'? The first name means 'Gift
of God', and I thought a short middle name would balance the longer first
name. And your first name is so beautiful, I wanted our daughter to have
one like it." Peter's eyes are glued to Assumpta's face, trying to read her
initial emotional reaction, almost expecting an explosion of the famous Fitzgerald
temper.
"Well, Peter, it could mean 'Gift of the Goddess' as well, after all, it's
Greek, isn't it, and they had a whole pantheon at one time. I like the balance,
too, of the first and middle names. I like it, Peter, I really do! Now all
we have to do is decide if her last name is going to be yours or mine, or
a hyphenated combination!"
Peter smiles in relief. "Theodora Rose Fitzgerald-Clifford? She'll be a teenager
before she can spell it all! An' by then she'll probably want to change it
to 'Killer Aleswife Rotten' or somethin' equally nasty and popular at the
time!" Assumpta dissolves into giggles, momentarily falling backwards on
the bed.
"I will NOT have a daughter named 'Killer'! But I was thinking, what about
changing both our last names to 'Fitzclifford'? It would be easier than hyphenating!"
Assumpta sits back up and turns, resting one bent leg on the bed as she leans
towards her husband.
"Fitzclifford', hmmm? I don't know, 'Sumpta, why not just keep our own names?
I know it's traditional for the wife to take the husband's name, but then,
what's 'traditional' about our marriage? But you're right, that makes it
hard for our kids. I know of some families where the girls take their mum's
last name, an' the boys take their dad's, what about that?"
"Well, that's an idea, too, let's think about it. We have a few months before
we have to decide. Theodora isn't due to make her appearance until the end
of July. 'Theodora', poor kid, it's going to get shortened, same as mine
did, one way or the other!" Assumpta slides off the bed and walks around
to bend over and kiss her husband's cheek.
"That's easy, the short feminine nickname is 'Thea'. 'Thea Fitzgerald', I
like the sound of that!" Peter kisses Assumpta back, then leans back, as
Emma moves up onto the pillow, snuggling against the side of his neck.
"'Thea Fitzclifford'... I hope you don't find out you're allergic to cats!
Emma, don't strangle the poor man!" Assumpta walks to the door, flipping
off the lightswitch, Peter having turned on the bedside lamp earlier. A soft
"Mrruff" answers her, and Peter chuckles.
"Ah think she's goin' to have the last word in every conversation from now
on, 'Sumpta."
"Mrroww!" Peter and Assumpta both smile at the large personality housed in
such a small, furry body.
*****
In a small cottage in the hills above Ballykissangel, Orla and Connor are
wrapped together, drifting between waking and sleep. The entire cottage smells
of sweet chocolate, the couple having enjoyed one of Maggie's holiday gifts
of chocolate-scented shower gel together, as well as the chocolate body paints,
a bit later.
"Connor?" Orla whispers.
"Uh huh?" The vague answer comes.
"Connor, are ya' happy we don't have ta take over the pub, after all?"
"Yeah," Connor rouses somewhat. "Not that I mind runnin' the place once in
a while, but I am glad we don't have ta' make it a career. An' really, I
think Assumpta might have minded a bit, in a way, even though she did sell
the pub originally. An' I wouldn't have wanted you two to lock horns, you're
too alike, an' it would have ruined a good friendship the two of you have.
Not to mention the working relationship! I'm glad Maggie's back, the three
of you make a grand team."
"We make a grand team, too, you know!" Orla raises herself onto one elbow,
and strokes the tumbled curls off her lover's forehead.
"We do, don't we!" Connor Devlin chuckles, and reaches up to pull Orla's
face down to his, drawing her into a passionate kiss.
*****
In the kitchen of Fitzgerald's pub, James O'Connor rinses out the dishcloth,
then wrings it as dry as he can, and drapes it over the faucet to dry. He
pushes the 'start' button on the dishwasher, checks to see he has set the
timer on the coffee maker for fresh coffee the next morning, and then leaves
the kitchen, turning off the lights. The lights in the front of the pub are
long since turned off, and he climbs the stairs with just a nightlight to
show him the way. He walks down the hall towards Maggie's room, glad there
are no guests at present. He pushes open the door, expecting to find Maggie
in bed, and instead sees her sitting on the floor, cross-legged, cradling
a silver bowl of water in her lap, leaning over it. He sees what he assumes
is a reflection of her face in the water. Around the edge of what seems to
be a circle. spaced evenly, in holders on the floor, candles burn, and in
front of her is a smouldering stick of incense burns, filling the air with
a sharp, pungent odor, underlain with sweetness. He stops in his tracks,
confronted again with a behaviour he has been trained to view as superstitious
at best, and potentially downright evil. He is as sure as he can be, down
to his bones, that Maggie would never do evil, but her witchcraft still disturbs
him. As he stands in the doorway, Maggie raises her head, reaches forward,
lifts the incense, then quenches it in the water bowl in her lap. She sets
the bowl on the floor, then stands up and turns clockwise, lifting each candle
in turn and blowing it out. At the south end of the circle, she leans forward,
and sweeps her hand across the floor, brushing the nap of the rug towards
the outside of the circle. She looks up at O'Connor's face, her own face
in a wide smile.
"Jimmy, I've got it!" She steps forward to hug him.
"Got what, Maggie?" James hugs back, glad to feel her softness and warmth
against him, bringing him back to what he almost thinks of as "the real world".
"A way for Iblis to run that time trial without risk to either of us. I decided
to pray, and ask for an answer, and I got it. There's no reason at all that
I have to ride him in that trial! I'm going to ask Avril to ride him! She
weighs a stone less than I do, at least, and he'll stand a far better chance
of making that time, and if we aren't running together, we don't present
an easy target anymore. I won't tell Avril the full reason, of course, but
she'll see the sense in putting a lighter rider on him. If she doesn't want
to do it, then perhaps the Jockey Club will let a professional jockey ride
him, on the real track in Cilldargan. The footing would be better there,
and we can trailer him there in Avril's rig. There's no actual racing going
on right now, so the track's free. I'll suggest both alternatives to Avril,
and see what she says. What do you think, does this put your mind at rest?"
Maggie is looking eagerly into James' face, she is sparkling with excitement.
O'Connor smiles back, remembering the bright, eager teenager he once knew,
still seeing her behind the adult Maggie's face.
"Well, it sounds okay, but I can't help but be worried, Iblis could still
break a leg, and that would break your heart, I know it would. I know he's
like your brother, he's been part of your life for so long. But if you think
he'll be safe, then it's your decision to make, and I'll just try and worry
quietly in the background, okay?" Maggie hugs O'Connor tight.
"Oh, thank you, Jimmy, I'm just sure it's going to be all right! Just as
you opened the door, I saw Avril's face in the scrying bowl, and I knew that
was my answer. I didn't get an inkling until you came up, then, bang, there
it was, the perfect solution! I think it took you being present for the answer
to come, since you were the original visionary of the scenario." Maggie kisses
O'Connor right on the lips, then asks "Now, where were we when the dirty
dishes so rudely interrupted us?"
James O'Connor finds himself swept into a suddenly intensely passionate kiss,
his lover taking the strong initiative. Years of training kick in, and he
stiffens. Maggie breaks off the kiss, also pulling back a bit. "Jimmy?" her
voice asks a question with his name.
"Maggie, I, uh, I guess seeing you doing that ritual on the floor just suprised
me for a minute, is all. I don't know why, I just figured you had gone to
bed, and after all, I used to do rituals all the time, too, but, well, this
is still new to me. Really, it's all new, the whole situation! Sharing a
room, sleeping with another person, making love, thinking of myself as part
of a couple, it's all new. I did alot of thinking before I came here, I know,
but sometimes the newness of everything is going to give me a jolt or two.
I'm sorry, I don't want to hurt your feelings, but I can't quite help myself,
sometimes I'm just going to lurch a little bit. I'm sorry, really I am! Can
you understand?" James O'Connor searches Maggie's face.
"Jim, I knew in the back of my mind this was going to happen, sooner or later.
I understand, and I promise to not let it bother me. I admit, I was all prepared
to fly into a fit, you know I have a temper, but I have to bite my tongue,
and remember that you lived all alone for years and years. I've told myself
there's going to be times you pull back, times you'll need your solitude.
I'm reminding myself not to take it personally. Still, I can't hide part
of myself from you all the time, so you're probably going to see me doing
some rituals. If it makes you terribly uncomfortable, please tell me, and
I'll warn you, so you can leave the pub if you want. But tonight, I wanted
to do everything I could to set your mind at rest. I didn't want you to be
worried. Can you forgive me?" Maggie's face is tense and white. James O'Connor
heaves a huge sigh, and pulls her tightly into his arms.
"No need for me to forgive anything, Mags, really. We're both just finding
our way, you must be feeling jarred because being with me has to be both
the same and different as being with your husband, and I've gone from being
a lonely man who had to constantly fight to drive back any hint of emotional
attachment to anyone except my blood relations to having a gorgeous woman
who I can share every waking minute with, not to mention share physical and
emotional closeness with. Of course there's going to be bumps, but I'm not
going to let old habits ruin my happiness, and I hope you don't let my stodginess
drive you away from me, either. Let's just take our time, give each other
space, and resolve to go forward, okay?" He nuzzles her neck, inhaling her
perfume, his hands rubbing circles to loosen the muscles in the small of
her back. Maggie leans into him.
"Mmmm, that feels so good..." Maggie's eyes close, she leans her head on
his shoulder. "Jimmy?"
"Yes?" He answers, in between kisses along the side of her neck.
"Come to bed?"
"Yes!" O'Connor's voice deepens with his answer, and he steps fully into
the room, swinging the door shut behind him. The latch clicks into the frame
with a snap.
End, episode 9.7