There's No Such Thing As Coincidence
by Camille Partridge
Peter stood in line at the bank, waiting for the teller to help the four
people ahead of him. Usually he took the night's take and dropped it in the
night deposit box, but he'd just been too tired the night before, so he headed
for the bank first thing the next morning when he woke up. He had a travel
mug of coffee in his hand, and the zippered money pouch chained and clipped
to his belt. He raised his coffee to swill the last of it down, and then
looked around himself, noting a young couple standing close together, two
lines over from himself. They looked uncomfortable, and he wondered if they
were in financial trouble.
He smiled ruefully at himself, thinking "still worryin' about other people's
troubles!" His vocation had morphed significantly, but he still had his ear
bent every night behind the bar of the pub he ran. "Wouldn't Father Mac have
an apoplexy over *that*, now!" The thought brought a soft chuckle. His former
superior had nagged him mercilessly over too much time spent at Fitzgerald's,
helping out after hours or even just sitting at the bar with his friends,
what he'd say over Peter actually managing a pub now would probably singe
eyebrows. Not that he had a right to say anything anymore, Peter thought!
He unconciously fingered the collar of his t-shirt. His eyes were drawn again
to the couple, who he was rather sure were actually teenagers, as they had
taken a step forward.
The woman in front of them had wavy auburn hair and a slight figure, Peter
couldn't help but notice her, he never failed to notice any woman who resembled
Assumpta. He sighed, and turned to look forward again as he also moved up
a position in line, but his head flipped back immediately as he heard the
woman laugh.
"Oh, shame on you, Sinead, I'll never be able to look Niamh in the face again
without laughing, thinking of that joke!" The woman turned away from the
teller she had been laughing with, with a wave, and started to walk towards
the door when the loud "clang" of a metal object hitting the stone floor
of the bank reverberated.
"Assumpta?" Peter's voice was scarcely more than a whisper, it was so strangled
with shock. He moved a foot, and his booted toe kicked his dropped coffee
mug, making another loud rattling, banging noise. The metallic reverberations
caught the woman's attention more than the barely heard voice calling her
name, and she turned to stare at the tall man who was walking slowly towards
her.
"Assumpta?" Peter's voice was stronger the second time, but the voice was
all she recognized. The man walking towards her in heavy rugged black boots,
worn denim jeans, and a black t-shirt was beyond recognition. His head was
shaved bare, he wore an earring in one ear, and tattoos covered both forearms.
His face was shadowed with a day's growth of beard, and he had a dark moustache
that completely obscured his upper lip, and hung down almost to his jawline.
"Peter? Peter Clifford?" Assumpta Fitzgerald looked the tall man up and down.
"Is it really you?" Her voice was incredulous.
"I could ask the same thing of you! Assumpta, is it you? Really you?" Peter
reached a hand out, touching her shoulder briefly.
"Yes, Peter, it's me. But, but what *happened* to you?" Assumpta repeated
Peter's gesture, but touched Peter's forearm, looking closely at the tattoo
there.
"What happened to me? Assumpta, for the love of... Assumpta, you DIED!" Peter
reached back out again, with both hands, taking hold of Assumpta's shoulders.
They were bare, she was wearing a white sleeveless tank top over a ruffled
cotton skirt, her legs also bare, in deference to the summer's heat.
"Peter, I *almost* died. When they took me to the mortician, he found a pulse.
Michael got my heart started, but didn't have a stethoscope to hear it, over
the noise in the pub, and the ambulance driver never checked, thinking the
doctor knew I was dead, so why bother. I was in hospital for more than a
week, and they didn't call anyone in BallyK, only Leo. When I got out of
the hospital, he brought me home, and on the way, he told me what he'd done
to you. Peter, he was so ashamed..."
"You didn't die? You're alive?" Peter's hands clutched desperately at Assumpta's
shoulders. Assumpta looked up at Peter's face, so changed, and yet still
the same dear face. She stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Peter's
waist, and laying her head on his chest.
"Yes, Peter, I'm alive." She sighed, and ran her hands up his back a bit.
"Peter, what have you been doing, you're so muscular. And your arms! Tattoos?
You, um, you aren't a priest any more?" She whispered the last question,
and Peter looked around, realizing half the customers in the bank were staring
at them.
"Um, no, not any more. 'Ssumpta, let's go outside, go somewhere to talk.
Oh, but first, I have to finish my banking, I can't walk around with this
any longer!" Peter patted the pouch on his belt. Giving him another hug,
Assumpta then loosened her hold, but took one of his hands, twining her fingers
into his, and they moved back into the customer line. Just at that point,
a raised voice spoke out.
"I said, PAY ATTENTION TO ME, are you stupid?!!!" Peter saw the teenaged
girl reach forward and grab the front of the teller's blouse. Assumpta saw
where Peter was staring, and whispered, "Sinead!" her fingers clamping in
Peter's grasp. The teenaged boy, behind the girl, raised a gun in his hand,
and fired a shot.
Immediate total silence washed in a wave over everyone in the bank, everyone
froze.
"Good, now move it, empty that till, and all the others, too, and don't anybody
reach for no alarms, all the rest of you, step back and let her get the cash,
and we'll be off, nobody hurt or nuthin'!" The girl shoved a paper sack at
the teller, and let go of her blouse.
"You heard, her, move it!" The boy punctuated the command by waving his gun
at the teller, then pointing it at the teller one line over. "Back up, all
of you, back up!" The rest of the tellers raised their hands, and backed
away from the counter as Sinead, her face white, began collecting notes and
putting them in the paper sack. Peter, along with all the other customers,
stood very still, but looked down to see Assumpta slipping her fingers loose
from his. He tried to grip them tighter, but she pulled harder, and looked
up at him. Her lips were in a tight line, and he remembered the look in her
eyes very well, she was *angry*.
"Assumpta, no..." he whispered.
"Peter, I can't let this go on, Sinead's my friend!" Assumpta whispered back.
"She'll be fine, she'll give them the money, and they'll go, and it'll be
over." Peter took hold of Assumpta's arm.
"Hey, you two, shut up!" The teenaged boy was waving his gun again, looking
at Peter and Assumpta.
Assumpta wrenched her arm away from Peter. "What, you gonna shoot me? Go
ahead, kid, shoot me, I've been dead, it wasn't so bad! Quit playin' at games,
you with your gun, scarin' my friend, scarin' all these folks! What d'ya
want to go scarin' people for? Too lazy to work an' make your own money,
you havta go stealin' what other folks have worked hard for?" Assumpta, hands
on hips, marched up to the boy, and stood toe to toe with him, staring up
at him. He actually looked ashamed of himself, and his arm, gun in hand,
dropped to his side. At that point, the girl, who was watching Sinead, turned
to see her accomplice and back-up crumpling, and screeched.
"Tim, whatcha doin"? Gimme that gun, if you can't use it!" She made a grab
for the gun, but found instead a steel grip on her wrist as Assumpta instead
grabbed her arm.
"Oh, no you don't, young lady!" Assumpta twisted expertly, and lifted, spinning
the girl around so she had her arm up behind her back. Assumpta's other hand
reached up and twisted into the girl's shaggy hair.
"Hey!" the boy yelled, seeing his girlfriend suddenly restrained. He raised
the gun in a shaky hand. "Let her go!"
"Or what?" Assumpta answered, spinning the girl to face her boyfriend, standing
behind the teenager. "You'll have to shoot her to hit me, kid! Now put the
gun down!" The boy hesitated, glancing around the bank. "I'll, I'll shoot
yer boyfriend!" He tried to point the gun at Peter, who was inching forward,
but froze.
"Oh, for pity's sake!" Assumpta barked, and shoved the girl forcefully, throwing
her against the boy. He dropped the gun, and staggered backwards, already
off balance enough that he went down, the girl on top of him. Assumpta took
a half-step, and kicked the gun away, and towards Peter, who dove forward,
covering it with his body. He reached under himself, got the handle in his
hand, and stood slowly up. He glanced at the tangled pile of teenaged limbs
on the bank floor, and backed towards the counter. Assumpta stepped forward
again, and grabbed the girl's belt, yanking her back to her
feet. She grabbed the wrist again, and then hooked fingers into the back
of the brasiere as well, using the other hand to hold onto the collar of
the girl's shirt.
"Come on, you little goon, stand up!" She directed the command at the boy,
lying on his back, clutching his ribs, which his girlfriend had elbowed in
their mutual fall. He groaned, and stood slowly, then got a panicked look
as he realized he no longer had his gun. He looked around, saw the tattooed
bald guy holding the gun, and turned to run, just as the alarm bells started.
Peter finished backing to the counter and put the gun on the counter, sliding
it to a teller, who took it gingerly to set on the floor at his feet.
"Oh, *brave* lad!" Assumpta yelled over the klaxon. "Leaving yer girl to
take the fall for ya!" The boy hit the front doors without slowing, just
in time to stumble into the arms of the Guardai who are rushing into the
bank, already well-alerted by the earler silent alarm, and taking the alarm
bell as a sign things were going badly. A short few moments of chaos ensued
as the situation was sorted out, and some of the Guardai began taking statements,
while others took the two teenagers away.
"I wonder what made those kids do something so stupid?" Peter asked, as he
and Assumpta sat in the manager's office, waiting until they were allowed
to leave.
"We'll never know, Peter, maybe they were desperate, maybe drugs, maybe just
a stupid dare. Or maybe we will know, we might be called to court to testify!
I hope Orla can handle the pub while I'm gone, maybe Niamh'd lend a hand..."
Assumpta was still the same, her mind leaping quickly even if her body was
temporarily still.
"Whoa, slow down there!" Peter laid a hand on Assumpta's forearm, and she
turned to look at him. A grin broke out on both their faces.
"Peter! *WE*!"
"Yeah, us..." Peter answered Assumpta's exclamation. They both smile again,
and then both started to speak, simultaneously.
"You aren't a priest any more, what do you do now, do you live in Dublin...?"
Assumpta started.
"You didn't die, are you still with Leo, are you still in BallyK...?"
Both leaned forward as they spoke, then stopped, and then both laughed, and
almost started over, but Assumpta raised a hand, and stood up. Peter also
stood. Assumpta reached up, wrapped both arms around Peter's shoulders, pulled
his face downwards, and Peter saw her eyes closing.
He wrapped his arms around her waist, lifted her upwards, and, closing his
eyes as well, kissed her. They held the kiss for quite a while, but eventually,
Assumpta had to break off, giggling.
"Your moustache tickles!"
"I'll shave it off, today!" They kissed again.
"Ahem..." The bank manager had returned to his office, having finished with
the legal stuff, and closed the bank for the rest of the day. "You two are
free to go now, the Guardai are gone as well, since they spoke to you first."
The pair stared, a little distracted, at the man as he spoke. He chuckled.
"Go on, the pair of ya, get a room or something." Assumpta blushed, and Peter
glanced briefly at his feet. "And thank you, both of you, for acting so quickly
and forcefully to stop those two kids. I am sure the bank will make that
thanks more substantial at a later date, but for now, please accept my verbal
thanks." He reached out to shake first Assumpta's, then Peter's hands as
they left his office. The pair wended their way to the front door where one
Guarda stood to let them out, and then they were standing outside in the
summer sunshine, holding hands.
"Oh, bugger!" Peter exclaimed.
"Peter!" Assumpta had never heard Peter swear in public.
"I never finished depositing this!" Peter grabbed the pouch again.
Assumpta laughed. "Come on, we'll go to another bank office, then we can
get lunch, or go back to your place, or something." She tugged on Peter's
hand. He started to walk with her, and glanced at the watch on his other
wrist.
"I've got to hurry, I have to open up in an hour and a half, an' I still
haven't had breakfast!"
"Open up?" Assumpta asked, looking upwards.
"Yeah, the pub. I manage a pub." Peter's walk was more forceful, his stride
longer than Assumpta remembered, she had quickened her pace to match it,
but stopped at his words. Peter, feeling her halt, also stopped.
"You manage a PUB!" Her suprise was in her voice and face as well.
"Yeah, we've got alot of talkin' ta do, 'Ssumpta, so come on, let's go!"
Peter started walking again.
"Yes, we do have alot of catching up, don't we? WE, Peter, WE!" Assumpta
squeezed Peter's hand.
"Yes, Assumpta, US!" Peter smiled, and squeezed back, as the pair walked
down the sidewalk towards another bank branch, and into their future, together.
THE END