This takes place towards the end of series five but before Niamh and Sean are married.
 

Father Mac showed Sean Dillon to the door.  Sean had wanted some idea of how the community would react to his impending marriage.  Father Mac knew that, because of how their relationship began behind Ambrose's back and because of how Ambrose was viewed in the village that there would be some people who never would accept it.  The fact that Ambrose died did nothing to change the fact that it started as an affair...an adulterous relationship.

Could he have done anything about it at the time?  He doubted it.  Besides, that was the job of his curate although what Father Aidan knew about marriage and adultery was very little.  'She should have talked with Father Clifford', he thought wryly.  'Now there's someone that knows all about adulterous relationships.'  But he put the past out of his head and went to fix himself some tea.

A phone call from Kathleen interrupted him.  Her phone calls were much less frequent with this new curate but they still occurred.  This time, though, there was something much more serious although he assured her she was misreading things. Once again the naivety of Father Aidan was an issue.  If a teenage girl fell in love with him, he should have forseen it and dealt with it accordingly.  He trusted Aidan implicitly in these matters (especially with females) but was always sensitive to public perception of the clergy especially those priests he was responsible for.  Aidan probably needed another talking to about life in the real world.

He sat down in his study with his tea and picked up a book.  It didn't take long for his mind to wander again though.  For the first time in many months, he found himself wondering about Father Clifford, if he even still was a Father Clifford.  He was annoyed that the man left without saying a word, only leaving a message, "I did come for more than the suit.  I just didn't realize what the price of it would be."  And he could not deny that things up in Ballykissangel were a lot smoother in most regards.  'I went from a liberal priest who pushed the limits of Church teachings to a mystic one whose experience of the world was extremely limited.  Image a priest not knowing how to do the accounts or even realizing that he got a salary!  At least that never was a problem with his predecessor.'

Realizing he had turned the page without having read it, he gave up and put the book down.  Father Clifford came back into his thoughts more out of idle curiosity than anything else.  He had come from England with tons of energy and faith and left Ballykissangel with everything taken from him.  Even Father Mac had to agree that he didn't deserve what had happened to him. Neither did Assumpta, for that matter.

Both Aidan and Peter Clifford came into town with the naivety of youth. Both saw the good side of everyone.  Neither one tried to change the community.  Both served the community well, if not always in the manner Father Mac would approve of.  He grudgingly acknowledged that both were good priests for the most part.

Thinking about the phone call, the memory of a similar situation with Father Clifford came to mind:
 

Due to cutbacks in the school that year, no coach could be provided for the girls soccer team.  This would be the first year since the school was founded that no team would be fielded for Ballykissangel.  Father Mac heard protests from many parents but there was nothing to be done.  He assured everyone that if the money were there, a coach could be found.  As he got up to leave the meeting, one of the parents asked, "Why couldn't Father Clifford coach them?  He enjoys having a kick about with the lads."

Father Mac's initial reaction was to refuse such a thing as being beneath the dignity of a curate but was stopped by the obvious support from the crowd.  "Very well, you may ask him."  He proceeded to leave for home.

The parent that asked the question, Helen Miarra, lost no time in going down the hill to recruit Father Clifford.  He was just locking up St. Joseph's when she greeted him.

"Father, we need your help."

"Sure.  What with?"

"The school lost funding for a soccer coach for the 10 to 11 year old girls and we were wondering if you could take over the team."

The idea was appealing to him.  "Well, it would depend on the schedule but I could do it as long as I had some assistants who could cover for me when I can't make it.  Sure.  Listen, I was going home to make some tea.  Why don't you join me and fill me in on the details?"

Peter had coached before in England but had never coached girls.  At this age, though, the game was pretty much the same for boys and girls.  The only problem was that it would interfere somewhat with his own football play.

'Ah, well, must serve the community.'  He didn't really mind.

Practices claimed the three weekday afternoons he did not hear confessions. Games would be a bit of a problem depending on what he had scheduled Saturday but there was nothing that could be done about that.  He found himself quite enjoying it.  The girls certainly enjoyed his coaching.  (So did a lot of their mothers, unbeknownst to him.  Even though he dressed conservatively on the field, never once appearing in shorts, it was a refreshing change from the suit.)

He recruited two assistants, one a parent and the other a 14 year old girl, Anna, who was a marvelous player in her own right.  The three of them worked well together and, when the games started, the team started doing well.  So well, in fact, that they were invited to a regional tournament in Waterford. Peter talked Brian into sponsoring their trip and off they went for a three-day weekend.

The team had placed well capturing third place.  As the kids and parents were gathering for the ride home, several of the girls were having a kick about which Peter and Anna joined.  Perhaps thirty minutes into it, Anna was bringing the ball up the field when she stepped into a squirrel hole and fell down screaming in pain clutching her ankle.  Peter tended to her and got it splinted but it was obvious she needed medical attention.  Her parents had been unable to make the trip so Peter said he'd look after her and sent the team on home with their trophy.

Still wearing team uniforms, Peter helped her into the emergency room. Anna was enjoying his closeness in spite of her hurt ankle.  She had a crush on Father Clifford but had kept her feelings just to herself and her diary. She gave Peter no indication of any undue feelings.

Fortunately, there were no broken bones just a very bad sprain.  She was discharged after three hours and they began the long drive home.  Their conversation covered a wide range of topics.  Peter was enjoying it until she asked him, "Do you ever want what you can't have?"

Perhaps if Assumpta hadn't asked him that same question two weeks ago, he might have brushed over it.  But he remembered the trouble he got into by doing that before.  It raised warning flags, but he did give her an answer.

"Ah, the human condition."  That worked before.

"But you're human."

Was there a tape recorder in the bar that night?  "Ah, I've been promoted."

"So you never get tempted?"

Well, that approach didn't work.  "Anna, priests aren't immune to temptation any more than anyone else is."

"Don't you ever get lonely?"

Warning bells were now sounding and it did not take a brain surgeon to see where she wanted this conversation to head.  There was a dirt road heading off and he pulled across it to stop the car.  This could not continue.

"Why are you asking me this?"

Anna answered him by moving to kiss him.

He was prepared and stopped her.  "Anna, this isn't right."

"I don't care.  I love you."

"I am honored but it still doesn't make it right."

She was confused.  "But isn't it right to love someone?"

"Certainly, depending who that someone is.  You are a wonderful person with many things going for you, ankle notwithstanding.  You are a large part of the reason this team is successful.  I care for you as I care for everyone on the team, in the town.  But that is all I can offer you or anyone.  Do you understand?"

"No."

Knowing the psychology, he decided how he would steer this conversation away from himself and towards her.  He knew, of course, that her father had abandoned her family for the bottle two years ago.  She was seeking a father figure and a priest certainly fit the bill.  Peter had been in this situation several times in the past.  Practice makes perfect and he was able to get her to open up.

Before she did, she stated, "I don't want my mother to know."

He smiled at her.  "Am I hearing confession?"

"Would you?"

"All right."  He retrieved his bag from the back seat and fished the stoll out of it.  When he had it on his shoulders, she began to tell him of the abuse she suffered at the hands of one of her uncles.  She described in detail how she felt and how she could tell no one or else he would do the same to her mother.  Peter counseled her as best he could, mostly to ease her acute pain.  She would need much more counseling from someone more specialized than a priest.

They were parked alongside the road for almost two hours.  But these were hours well spent and, instead of the remainder of the trip being awkward, there was the start of healing for Anna.  Instead of feeling embarrassed about confessing her love, Peter made her understand why she felt that way as well as being very clear as to why he could never return it.

After Mass next Sunday, Anna's mother, Clara, came up and asked him,  "What did you say to my daughter last weekend?"

Taken aback, he replied cautiously, "We talked about a lot of things.  Why do you ask?"

"Because she has been a different person since then.  What miracle did you work?"

"No miracle.  She needed someone to talk to and I listened."

There was a bit of hesitation.  "You know she has a crush on you."

He nodded.  "Yes, we talked about that as well.  I hope I talked her out of it."

"Well, she still likes you."

"I'm glad to hear that."

"I just wanted to thank you for making a difference in her life."

As Peter reflected on that conversation, he was very glad he did some good. He hoped the family would start healing but he knew they were only starting on a long road.  Still it was nice to hear that his efforts were appreciated.

Two weeks later, he was sitting in Father Mac's office going over scheduling when his superior told him that Clara had called to tell him about Anna.  "She was quite laudatory.  Called you a miracle worker.  What happened?"

Peter told him the story as much as he could.  In spite of himself, Father Mac was impressed at how he handled the situation.

There was a small bit of regret that he let Peter leave.  After her death, Peter turned his back on everything.   Where did he go?  Hopefully, home to his family.  If not, then there's no telling what might have happened.

There had been a lot of drive and fire in the man.  He had been an asset to the parish even if he was English.  To see him so utterly defeated, demoralized...

If she had lived and they had married, would they have been treated any differently that Sean and Niamh would probably be?  Interesting question but he thought that the community would be far more likely to forgive Father Clifford for abandoning his vows than they would Sean Dillon because of his family's past.  Both men had fallen for married women but the situations were different.  Sean had come into the picture and spirited her away from Ambrose.  Father Clifford had always been in the picture.  It was Assumpta that had clearly made the mistake in marrying Leo, not that Father Mac would ever admit that to anyone.

Father Mac laughed to himself as he found himself almost missing Father Clifford's contentiousness.  In that they had a lot in common.  He could understand contentiousness far better than Aidan's passivity.

Curiosity over Peter's whereabouts was rising.  He decided to make discreet inquiries but got nowhere.  The only thing he learned was that he was not in his home parish.  But whether or not he was still a priest was still unknown.  He decided to play a hunch and call the Archdiocese in London.  He struck pay dirt.  Thanking him for the information, he hung up the phone and reclined back in his chair.

Father Clifford still was a priest and looks to have landed a very nice position on the Bishop's staff in London.  It made sense that he wasn't assigned to a church given that it was only eight months since her death. He wondered what kept him a man of the cloth.  'Perhaps one day I'll call him up to see how he's getting on.  Or maybe I should have my nephew do it instead...'

(Father Mac's nephew, Timothy, had spent last Christmas with Peter after his uncle had dumped him off.  Initially quite annoyed with the imposition and with Timothy's incessant chatter, the two men found they had much more in common than not and developed a friendship.  Peter was present at Tim's ordination a few months later and they had kept in contact until Peter's abrupt departure.  Father Mac had figured that, by imposing Tim on him, he would help drive Peter back to England.  It didn't work.  Instead, those two developed a strong friendship.  'The best laid plans of mice and men...')

In London, Peter was doing staff work for Bishop Andersen.  He had been on the job for six months and felt well settled in.

After Assumpta's death, he had fled to England and spent several weeks at his brother Andrew's house.  That he was the poster child for basket cases would have been an understatement.  But without his  brothers, he knew he would still be running away from everything.  It took him almost two months before he entered a church again.  His mentor, Father Randall, had suggested taking an assignment away from parish work and recommended him to the Bishop.  It had been the right thing for him...employment while at the same time not requiring him to make any decision regarding his commitment to his vocation.

Four months into the job, he had avoided getting roped into celebrating Mass.  Nothing lasts forever and the Bishop called him on it.  Saying daily Mass had been the constant of his life since ordination but his voice had been silent these past six months.  He still did not feel at ease with his actions in Ireland.  Whatever choice he had made seemed to have been exactly the wrong thing to do.  By falling in love with a woman and not acting honestly about it from the beginning made him feel like such a hypocrite that he dreaded standing at the altar again before God and a congregation. And there was more than a little anger that he had with the Supreme Being. He no longer felt entitled to wear those robes irregardless of the fact that the Church still considered him a priest.

Bishop Andersen regarded the priest sitting before him.  Well aware of whathad happened to Peter, he was contemplating how best to treat this man. "Father, I know these past months have been quite difficult for you personally.  I know how hard it can be to return to some semblance of normalcy after a traumatic experience and I want to compliment you on starting down the road to recovery."

Peter was very uneasy with this conversation.  He felt he had managed to do his job in spite of the constant pain and was beginning to wonder what the Bishop was thinking of.  He did not have long to wait.

"We have a bit of a staffing problem, Father, that perhaps you could help us with."

"Of course," replied Peter with an overwhelming sense of dread.

"We need someone to substitute at St. Clement's for three weeks while the curate is on retreat."

"That is Father Miller's usual duty."

"True, it is.  However, I think it might be better if you took it."

Peter paled.  "Your Grace, how can I?"

"You'll manage, Father.  You will find the strength within that you currently are ignoring.  The assignment is three weeks away which should give you ample time to prepare...  I know you haven't celebrated mass for many months now.  Why?"

He could only watch his hands.  "I don't know if I'm able to."

"Why wouldn't you be?"

"Because it was only a few days ago that I was even able to pray again.  It is a bit of a leap from that to saying Mass, your grace."  He glanced up quickly before focusing again on his fingers.

True.  "You could start by saying it in private in one of the side chapels. I can arrange for an assistant when you are ready to say Mass in public.  I think it is the right thing for you to substitute.  You have an excellent reputation in that area and I think you will find your strength returning only if you once again return to a congregation."

Peter didn't look up.  "I wish I had your confidence in that."

The Bishop handed him the schedule of activities he would take over at the  Church.  Peter knew that it was the right path.  What he didn't know was how to retrieve the desire to walk that path again.  Follow the wellworn path was his mantra since her death.  Healing was coming, slowly but surely.  He agreed and accepted the assignment.

Two days later, early in the morning he donned the robes and went into the chapel to celebrate mass.  He was alone with God at the altar.  As he said the words, memories flooded back and interrupted the ceremony.  At the beginning of the Gloria, his anger towards God returned.  It took a long time to bring under control before he could actually finish the Gloria. There were more such interruptions as he slugged his way through the rite. But during the communion, these thoughts ceased and he could concentrate on the words, their meaning and his actions.  A portion of the old Father Clifford had been reborn.  It was too early to tell if the rest would follow, but the Bishop had been right.  He needed the structure of the ritual to help him heal.

For three weeks, Peter served as curate in a small neighborhood Church outside of London and lived in the house attached.  He surprised himself by starting to enjoy being with a congregation again.  His time passed relatively quietly and seemed a bit like a vacation.  He traveled into London three days a week to continue  his regular job but stayed local the rest of the time saying Mass, hearing confessions, calling bingo...the usual activities of a diocesan priest.  He was a little sad when it came time to leave.  (So were some of the parishioners, too.)

A few weeks later, one of the priests he lived with, Father Gatlin, said he wanted to talk with Peter.  But it wasn't at all the subject Peter expected. Peter was friendly to all his colleagues, male and female alike.  That was how he always had been and, as his wound healed, it was becoming so again. He had helped a woman with some chores around her place and she treated him to dinner.  Again, there was no undercurrent.  It was a simple thank you for a favor he did.  He walked her home from the restaurant, saw her safely indoors and left for his own home.  No physical contact whatsoever occurred between them.  But that wasn't how Father Gatlin saw it.

"Father, you were observed having dinner with a woman a few nights ago.  It seemed you two were enjoying yourselves a lot, seemingly too much.  You already have a bit of a reputation anyway.  You should be more careful."

Peter regarded the man standing before him before deciding on a neutral answer.  "I had helped her move into her new flat.  She thanked me by buying me dinner.  That is all."

"That is not what it looked like.  You have been seen with her at other times, other places."

He shrugged it off.  "And what of it?  She is a co-worker.  So what?"

"It could have bad consequences on your position here."

'And who labeled you moral policeman?'  Peter was fighting hard to hold his tongue, not one of his strong points.  His relationship with Father Gatlin had never been close but had, up to now, at least been friendly.  But this? "Father, I appreciate your comment but, believe me, there is absolutely no cause for concern."  And he walked to the door to signal an end to the conversation.

He took the hint and started for the door.  Just before leaving, he turned around and said, "You've haven't been here that long to realize how important public appearances are.  You must be more careful, Father."

Peter used everything he had to keep from slamming the door afterwards. Seething with rage, he did force himself to review his recent behavior but could find absolutely nothing wrong with it.  What was he supposed to do? Ignore half of humanity?  No.  'God, I don't need this after Ireland.'  To even suggest that he had the remotest interest in walking that path again! The pain was still too acute.  He was resolved never to even remotely go that route.  He owed Assumpta's memory that much.

Marion Kennedy had had many long taxing months keeping a major product development on schedule and on budget.  Every one on her team was also putting in the hours and the strain was beginning to show.  Morale was high because if the product became a success it would do no harm to the stock prices which they all tracked religiously.  Finally, the end was in sight and she could begin to relax.  Her dedication to her job had driven her long time boyfriend away but she couldn't help that.  He didn't understand that, if this were successful, she'd have plenty of time for anything and everything.  Although she had been annoyed he left, she quickly recovered and continued on with life.  That had been five months ago.

She was driving home late on a Saturday afternoon when she decided she would go attend Mass just to get her mind off work worries.  Raised a Catholic, she no longer attended a specific Church or weekly Mass.  She did manage the usual Christmas and Easter as well as the occasional Sunday in between.  There was no particular reason she picked that time or that Church to attend.  She just did.

She walked in and was handed a leaflet with announcements and music. Sitting down in a pew in the middle, she looked it over with idle curiosity. Force of habit did make her check the name of the priest but it wasn't familiar.  There was a fair sized crowd of perhaps sixty in attendance at the start of the Mass.

Rising for the entrance of the priest, she was not really paying attention until he spoke the first words.  This was not the priest whose name appeared on the program.  This was her boyfriend from college who ended up dumping her for God.  This was the man she had never ever wanted to see again.  Now here he was celebrating Mass.  'Of all the gin joints in all the world I had to walk into his.'  But she didn't leave.  Although the pain he had caused her was once again present, memories of the good times also came back as well.  She was able to go through the motions but her mind was definitely elsewhere.

Of course, Peter had no clue she was in attendance.  This was his second week at St. Clement's.  He was actually feeling the power of the ritual again and felt at least some of his dedication and energy return.  Most of all, he was starting to enjoy this assignment even if he didn't acknowledge it to himself.

As Peter gave his sermon, Marion was simply listening to the sound of his voice.  She was beginning to realize how much she had missed his friendship which to be honest was really all he had ever given her.  They had been very, very close friends but not lovers.  She had wondered about that at the time because it sure didn't seem that he was gay, but now knew why it never happened between them even though all the signs had been in place.  That brought a smile to her face.

She had planned to take Communion and so had no choice but to make her presence known to Peter.  Maybe he wouldn't recognize her.  He was standing in front handing out the wafers, "Body of Christ, Bread of Heaven".  When she came before him, he placed the wafer into the palm of her hand and said the words meeting her gaze as he finished.  There was no doubt he knew her. Only lingering perhaps two seconds longer, she walked away and he resumed dispensing communion.

She returned to her pew.  Peter had been startled to say the least to see her in this Church.  They had had absolutely no contact since the day he had told her he was entering the seminary.  He had tried to talk to her then, to explain but she had refused to have anything more to do with him.  In spite of the shock of her presence here now, he betrayed no undue emotion or stress and finished the ritual.

He greeted his congregation afterwards as they left.  She did not appear although it had seemed everyone had left.  Surprisingly saddened by that, he walked back into the Church and discovered her sitting in a  nearby pew clearly waiting for him.  Steeling himself for what could be a very uncomfortable encounter, he sat down next to her managing an awkward, "Hiya."

She had never been one for small talk.  "I want to apologize about treating you the way I did."

It took Peter some time to find his voice.  "I deserved it."

She smiled at him.  "Well, not all of it.  How have you been?"

"Fine."  Part of him was very elated that she was here.  Part of him was Father Clifford.  "I take it you live nearby?"  His uneasiness was only seen in his fidgeting hands.

"No, not really.  I was driving by when I decided to go to Mass.  I don't really know why this time, this place.  It just felt like something I had to do."  Peter was silent so she added,  "My Father told me about your Mom. I'm sorry."

Caution was paramount.  "Thanks.  How have you been?"

"Good.  I've been working at a great job here in London and am doing well. You?"

"Fine."  He needed to know.  "Marion, don't misunderstand me but what do you want?"

She shrugged.  "To apologize and maybe to invite you out to dinner for old times' sake."

Peter found himself torn between two worlds...again.  What would be the harm?  "Sure.  When?"

"Now?"

"Give me about thirty minutes."

"Are you living around here?"

"Temporarily.  I'm substituting here for two weeks."  They talked details before she left to take a walk while he got ready.

He walked up to the altar and stood there for a while in prayer.  Realizing he was still clad in robes, he made the sign of the cross and went into the sacristy.

Peter was wondering just what he had set in motion by accepting her invite. Parts of him were still working on autopilot as far as the priesthood was concerned and this autopilot was drifting somewhat off course.  The loneliness he had felt had not abated one bit.  His faith had returned but the vocation was still rather questionable.  Still shellshocked from Assumpta's death, he nevertheless felt some of the fondness he once had for this woman return.  An alarm went off in his head but he considered that this was not walking down that forbidden path but, rather, repairing one long buried in the past.  There would be no harm in joining her for dinner. He had honestly missed her friendship.

Marion.  At one point, while he was struggling with his feelings towards Assumpta, he did compare the two women.  They were very much alike in both looks and temperament.   They were quite intelligent although Marion probably had an edge there.  He loved, in their own time, both these women. One while deciding to become a priest, the other while wondering if he still felt the calling.  Now Marion has appeared in his life again.  For what purpose?  He spent some time in prayer but that did not ease his mind.

Peter was becoming more and more nervous in anticipation of this dinner with Marion.  So many unanswered questions raced through his mind until he finally shut them up by deciding just to relax and enjoy the evening no strings attached.  He had changed into civvies, Dockers and nice shirt.

They walked into the pub.  "Let me guess.  Pint of lager?"

He nodded sheepishly.  "Guess I haven't changed much."

They drank a toast and talked.  After a few awkward minutes, their conversation became easier for both.  By the end of the meal, it was almost as if they had never parted.  Peter was enjoying himself for the first time in many months and Marion was also in good spirits.  Reestablishing a relationship is a fragile affair and both were well aware of that so nothing of any real substance was discussed.  Instead they kept everything light. They planned their next get together before parting.

That night, Peter had difficulty sleeping which was not unusual but this time his thoughts were more pleasant than in past months.  His eyes were wide open to the fact that this might make him leave the priesthood for good.  If so, he wouldn't take those long months to decide.  He wasn't going to pay that price again under any circumstances.

It also took Marion some time to fall asleep that night.  She had dated off and on after University and had lived with a man for five years before her work became an issue.  (She was making more money than her lover was and it really became a sticking point.)  When he left, she had resigned herself to being alone.  She came to enjoy her singleness.  Because of that, she probably felt it would be all right to renew a friendship with Peter.  After all, he wasn't available to anyone for anything more than that.  And she did miss his friendship most of all.

Their second meeting went smoothly as well.  After their meal, they went for a walk.  It was a cool night but there was no wind.  "You haven't talked much about Ireland.  What was it like?"

To say Peter was reluctant to discuss it would be an understatement.  On the other hand, he needed to talk about it.  He briefly described the village and community.  His mood turned somber as his mind resurrected the scene in the cellar with Assumpta laying motionless at the bottom of the ladder.  He couldn't speak.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"No, no, it's ok."  He stopped and looked around for a place to sit.  He motioned her over to a nearby bench where they sat down.

"What happened?"

"It's a long story perhaps best saved for another time."

"We have the time.  You can say anything to a friend."

Again the image of Assumpta this time telling him the same thing.  That time, he clammed up instead of being forthcoming.  A lot of pain would have been saved had he done so.  Peter considered that.  He sighed, "Well, there was a lot more to it.  The short version of it is that I was really enjoying myself over there.  The community welcomed me in spite of being English and the beauty of the place was almost unreal.  I felt I could live there forever and I came very close to doing just that."

Marion was confused and said as much.

He laughed ruefully and began to talk about the place in more detail.  Up until the statue incident, he was perfectly happy with his life, vocation, assignment, everything.  Idolatry blew all that away.  It made him assess other aspects of Church policy that he had had disagreements with.  There was also a sense of loneliness that was beginning to grow in him.  "Towards the last few months, I found myself becoming more and more dissatisfied with the Church.  My parish priest sent me off on retreat.  It was there I realized that my dissatisfaction with the Church had nothing to do with my feelings of loneliness."

Marion reached out for him and placed her hand on his shoulder.  She said nothing but he reached up and put his hand on top of hers.

"Mother died and that was terrible.  I comforted my family as best as I could but no one thought to come to my aid.  After all, I have God.  Two weeks afterwards, a close friend of mine died accidentally right in front of me.  She was about 27.  To see it happen to one so young who I loved like a sister... It tore my heart out...  Shock doesn't begin to describe how I felt then.  The people there were turning to me for comfort but I had nothing to give them.  And, for the first time in my life, I didn't care what they were feeling, needing.  After everything that had happened, to be hounded upon to provide comfort to others was just not possible.  I needed someone who would be there for me.  So I up and left and went to Andy's. Without him, I don't know what I would have done.  That was about nine months ago now."

"And now?"

He shrugged.  "Marion, I still don't know.  The only thing I know for sure is that I am no longer convinced that God bothering is worth the price I have to pay."  His voice caught a bit, but he continued, "When we parted, you told me that I'd never last, that celibacy would doom me.  I, of course, knew you were wrong.  After all, I was called by God to be a priest."  He turned off the sarcasm.  "But you may be right.  It was in Ireland that I learned that there are more consequences of a celibate life than no sex.  It also means no one is there for you.  Night after night I go home to an empty house, an empty room.  And that's how it will be for the rest of my life. And I wonder..."

He broke off and gently removed her hand from his shoulder.  "Look, I don't want to burden you with all this.  I don't mean to sound like a whiner. It's just good to talk to you."

"It's no burden.  I am glad you're here.  I have missed our friendship."

"I have, too.  I suppose people don't change.  I can help others but all I can do for myself is to muck up my own life."

"Is it mucked up?  You've been through an awful lot in a short time but you survived.  You seem basically the same as at University."

"I sure don't feel the same."

She did have to concede that maybe she did exaggerate a bit.  "Well, you're a bit withdrawn which is unlike you but, given what you've just told me, it's totally understandable.  I'd like to help.  I think we could both use a friend."

"I don't know what I can bring to a friendship."

Their conversation continued for some time.  Marion brought Peter up to date with the events of her life.  The hour became quite late.  Peter stayed with her while she hailed a taxi.  Just before she got in, he went to give her a hug.  She answered by kissing him on the cheek.  She drove off in the cab and he walked to the Tube.

Once again, he began wondering what he wanted out of life.  He had loved Marion, in fact he still did.  He was enjoying staff work and teaching and could see himself doing that for a long time.  But to once again have a Church of his own, no way.  Given his state of mind, he decided to take things slow with Marion.  It would work or it wouldn't.

For the next months, they kept in touch by phone, email and occasionally went out together.  Marion had been kept busy with her work and Peter was giving her (and himself) space.

One evening, Marion invited Peter to dinner at her place and this time he accepted.  Curiosity had gotten the better of him and he did want to see her private side.  Her place was quite nice and he complimented her on it. Afterwards they talked for a long time as they sat together on the sofa.

Eventually they started talking about their relationship.  It was a not quite a year ago that he was convinced he'd lost his vocation but ended up losing Assumpta instead.  Now he has another woman and was in the exact same situation again.  This time he knew exactly how she felt.  This time he knew what exactly awaited both of them the further they walked this road.  This time was perhaps too close to last time.  Try as he might, he knew he couldn't make any commitment.  It was still too soon.  "I want you in my life.  But I truly don't know what to do about it. I do care about you but I don't want to mislead you like I did before.  I truly don't know what I can offer you beyond friendship.  I am a priest.  I should just walk away from you but I don't want to one bit.  I do love you.  I did when we were at University and I never stopped.  But in all honesty I can't make a commitment to you, not yet.  I shouldn't even be here."  He made a move to get up, but she took hold of his hand, motioning for him to sit back down. He did.

She decided to change the subject.  "Peter, there is something I've always wanted to ask you, something I've never understood about you.  Why did you become a priest?  What is the attraction?  I know you've said you wanted to serve God and I know how strong your faith is, but I don't understand why you are still sticking to a vocation that is and has caused you nothing but anguish that I can see."

Peter leaned back in the couch staring straight ahead, saying nothing.

She continued, "I know you're a man of your word but it doesn't seem to me that you're staying only because you took a vow years ago.  So, I need to know, why stay?"

"When I returned to the Church after my Mother's death, I was asked those same questions.  At the time, my answer was that it was too soon to make decisions on what I wanted to do with my life.  It made sense to keep doing what I had been doing all along."  His voice wandered away to whatever place his eyes were staring at.

She had to prompt him.  "And now?"

"Now?  What does it mean to me to be a priest?  I'm not sure I can put it in words."  There was silence for quite a while before he resumed. "There have been many occasions when I've been praying or saying Mass or some other rite that I've felt a strong connection with everything around me, a strong presence.  It is as though I actually feel God working through me, being with me..."  His voice became very quiet.  "I don't want to lose that."

February marked one year since Assumpta's death.  Marion was traveling on business which was a relief to Peter.  He hadn't fully told her of Ireland and really didn't intend to unless she asked.  (Old habits died hard.)  That day he spent by himself in prayer for Assumpta.  He allowed himself to think of what his life might have been like had she lived...the life that was not to be.  Instead, he was considering embarking soon on a different life...not better than it would have been in Ireland, just different.

Their infrequent outings were quite enjoyable so it was no surprise that an undercurrent was beginning that would soon need to be reckoned with.  Unlike before, Peter was well aware of it and knew what he would do when that time came.  And it did one night after going with Marion to her office Christmas party.

The party was at a very fine restaurant outside of London.  Food, wine and conversation were flowing.  Marion had been hesitant about inviting Peter but then remembered that he was the type that could talk to anyone about anything.  And he did not disappoint.  He was introduced only as a friend from University.  She had gone shopping with him to update his wardrobe and he was dressed conservatively but very nicely.  Marion's companion was the subject of many conversations.  One man thought he looked familiar but couldn't place him.  (He would, though, the next day when Father Clifford appeared at his Church to say Mass.)

She poured brandy for them and they sat down on a couch still talking about the party, the upcoming holiday, etc.

"You seem much happier lately.  The blues seem gone."

"Pretty much.  Things seem sorted now."

"It shows."

He nodded.  "Cheers."

She moved closer to him to make the toast and he did not move away.  He reached over to her shoulder.  "I am glad we're friends again.  It means a lot to me.  You've helped me pull myself together."

She leaned her head against his hand and smiled.  "You'll probably laugh at this but I keep thinking of you, wondering what you're doing, thinking, feeling.  It seems silly I know.  But I can't help it."

"I think I know the feeling very well."  Father Clifford was sending out warning signs.  Peter ignored them.

She put her brandy down and moved a little closer to him.  "What do you want?"

He answered by putting his drink down and gathering her into his arms.  "I think I would like our friendship to grow into something more."

She turned her face up towards his and replied, "I think it already has."

He smiled.  "I think you're right."

"What are you going to do?"

"Long term or short term?"

"Both."

"Well, short term, I'm still a priest and this is getting very close to the limits of celibacy.  Long term, I think I may have to reevaluate my commitment to my vocation if we continue like I think we will.  You?"

She wasn't sure if she believed what he had just said.  "You would leave the priesthood for me?"

He shrugged.  "If it comes to that, no promises but I think I could.  Now it's my turn to ask you what you want?"

She answered coyly, "I would like you to spend the night, but I know you won't.  Just, please, don't leave yet.  I'm rather enjoying this."  With that she snuggled against his shoulder for a time before asking, "If you won't spend the night, then can we at least do what we did at University?"

"No, I can't."  He started kissing her neck as he held her closely.

"Why not?  It was OK then."

His attention was elsewhere.  "I wasn't a priest then.  It definitely is over the edge."  He focused back on her neck.

She was offering no resistance.  "Will you ever go over the edge?"

He broke off kissing her and rested his head on her shoulder.  "I suppose I'm just about there.  But I don't want to let you go."

"Then don't."

He resumed exploring her neck.  Her back was up against his chest and his hands were around her waist.  Heart rates were definitely rising.  He started working the other side of her neck, holding her tighter about the waist.  She didn't want him to stop.  But after a bit, he did.  He had to because the limit was reached.  Once again, he rested his head on her shoulder but did not release his hold on her. In a voice teeming with regret, he said, "Marion, this isn't right."

"I know.  But I can't think this is wrong either.  We do care for each other."

"Yeah."

She wanted to reassure him and make sure she wasn't driving him away by being forthright.  "Peter, if this is all you can give me, that's fine.  But you do understand it is your decision."

"I know."  There was sadness in his voice but it was unclear what exactly he was regretting.  Why did he keep getting into the same situation over and over and over?  There always seemed to be a need for a woman in his life and there always came a point in their relationship when she wanted more than he could give.  'Leo was right.  I don't really know what it means to be in love.  I suppose I'm too afraid of...what?'  Damn it all, he still wanted it both ways.  "Marion, I don't want to lose you but I can't offer you anything except my love."

"It is enough, Peter.  We love each other.  What is wrong about expressing that love?  Who are we hurting?  No one."  She had started caressing his thigh and he offered no resistance.

She wondered how much further he would go.  So did he.

But he knew the way it had to be.  Leaning his head back on the couch, he released his hold on her.  Disappointed but not surprised, she remained close to him.  He gently removed her hand from his lap and brought it to his lips to kiss.  He then leaned his forehead against her hand.  She was surprised to feel a tear.  "Peter, what's wrong?"

"Besides everything, you mean?"  He moved around so that he could face her before he continued, "I honestly don't know what I'm afraid of."  He was still holding her hand.  "I'm not playing a game at least not any game I understand.  If I weren't a priest I would know what to do.  But I am a priest.  At least I still am pretending to be one."  He got up and started pacing around the room.  "What do I want?  All I know for certain is that I do not want to lose you for any reason.   Am I afraid of commitment?  I don't think so.  Am I afraid of breaking my vows?  If I were, I'd have left here long ago.  I wish I could make sense of this because it is driving me up the wall."

"Perhaps you're afraid of unknown territory."

"Performance anxiety?"  He had to acknowledge it could be part of it, but not all of it.  He picked up their forgotten drinks off the table and offered hers to her.  The brandy proved a welcome respite in the conversation.  "I guess I'm too much a priest to be a man," he stated very quietly staring at his brandy.

"I hadn't noticed," she commented dryly.

He smiled ruefully and then downed the remains in his glass.  Setting the now empty glass down, he got up and walked over to the window lost in thought. He was quite afraid to continue.  After all, their relationship had been a godsend and he didn't want to jeopardize it.  He really didn't know what he would do if she walked away.  But oftentimes in life you have to risk disappointment to get what you want and he had decided that what he wanted was a life with Marion more than a life with the collar.  When he had decided that he wanted Assumpta, it took him many months to finally admit it to her.  He wasn't going to make that mistake again.  Turning towards her, he asked what hopes or dreams she had about the future.

With a moments thought, she answered, "I suppose I just thought I would keep doing what I'm doing for a while.  I'm really enjoying it even though the work load is tremendous.  Hopefully, that won't last forever."

"Then what?"  He walked back over and poured new drinks.

She took the glass.  "I hadn't really thought far ahead.  But I do know that I am content with what I have now."

"Being single?"

"Yes.  But I do have to admit that it is much nicer now that we are together once again.  You have really brightened my life, Peter."

"What do you want?"

"Whatever you can give me.  The limits are up to you."

"Are you sure?"

"Most definitely."  She had lost him once by issuing an ultimatum, one she had no chance of winning as it turned out.  Her professional success had made her more independent than she had ever been in her life.  Resuming a relationship with Peter after all this time was icing on the cake.  She saw herself standing at the crossroads and willingly let Peter take charge of which road she would go on.  One thing she did not want was to drive him away.

He rejoined her on the couch.  Father Clifford was in a fight for his life and he was losing.  He lifted her face up to his and gently told her, "I am too much in love with you to let you go.  I want you in my life.  I'll do whatever it takes, whatever you want.  All I ask in return is that you become my wife."

Wanting to make sure she heard what she thought she heard, she asked, "What?"

A trace of uncertainty crept into his voice.  "Could I interest you in marrying me?"  The love in his eyes was overwhelming.

"Are you sure?"

"Of what?"

"That you want to marry me."

"I am positively sure that I want to marry you.  Do you want to marry me?"

"Peter, I really hadn't thought about... I never thought you would..." Finally she managed to say, "Yes, I would very much love to marry you." They kissed briefly before she asked, "Are you sure you're going to leave the priesthood for me?  It was all you ever wanted."

"You said that correctly.  It was all I ever wanted.  And although I am very sorry for how I treated you then, I do not regret pursuing that path.  But I am more and more dissatisfied with what I am doing with my life.  And that has been going on for a few years now.  Then when you appeared for communion... It was so good to see you again.  Each time we're together it seems my love for you grows deeper and deeper.  And love is a gift from God after all.  So I am absolutely sure I want you for my wife."

For the first time since their days in college, they kissed and held each other tightly.  For the first time in his life, he didn't think about anything else.  His decision had been made.

He raised a few eyebrows when he showed up at the rectory obviously having spent the night elsewhere.  Wasting no time and offering no explanation, he changed and left for the Church.  Just before he left his room, he opened the box where he kept what little valuables he had.  His Mother's engagement ring was in there.  He had intended on giving it to Assumpta but that was not to be.  It now belonged to Marion.

Peter had arranged to meet her that afternoon at a local pub.  He busied himself tending to some Church business.  At the appointed time, they met and talked over lunch.  She found it a little surreal to be talking about marriage to a man wearing the collar.

"Do you want me to take it off?"

"No.  It is something I'm not used to seeing you in, that's all."

"I'm sorry.  I didn't think it would matter."  He started fishing in his pocket.  "Could I interest you in this?"  He pulled out a diamond ring and offered it to her surreptitiously.  There were no more words spoken as she held out her hand below the table and he slipped it onto her finger.  It was an almost perfect fit.

Looking at her hand in her lap, she commented, "Peter, it's beautiful but you can't afford something like this."

"Yes, I can.  It was my Mother's ring.  She gave it to me before she died."

"Why?  Did she think you would ever marry?"

He laughed and told a partial truth.  "Yes, she thought my days as a priest were definitely numbered.  And who am I to argue with my Mother?  Besides, if I never used it, she was sure one day I would need the money."

Marion was admiring it.  "Have you thought more about the timing?"

"I think it should be sometime after Easter."

"That would work out well for me, too, workwise."

Laughing, he replied, "All right.  Easter Saturday it is.  There should be a Church available.  It will give me four months to break this news to my brothers.  I will never, ever hear the end of it."

"I think I'll be able to take your mind off your brothers."

"I'm counting on it."

When he returned to the rectory late that afternoon, there was a message from the Bishop requesting his presence as soon as possible.  The Bishop quickly admonished Peter about his behavior.  He reminded Peter of his vows. "Coming in at all hours of the night is not acceptable behavior for any priest in my diocese.  Do you have an explanation?"

Although the timing would have been better to defer this conversation, Peter was not about to lie.  He explained his relationship with Marion and ended with, "Last night, I asked her to marry me.  We spent the rest of the night and well into the morning making wedding plans."

"Do you expect me to believe that?"

"With due respect, believe what you want.  It is what happened."  Among other things, he added silently.

"When were you planning to inform the Church of your plans?"

"Within the next few weeks.  Understand, your Grace, I do not make this decision lightly.  I just can no longer bear the loneliness of this vocation any longer.  And I feel that God is calling me towards a different path."

The Bishop knew the whole story of Peter's Ireland assignment both from Bishop Costello as well as from Peter himself.  "And it is to marry this woman?"

"Yes."

"What will you do for a living?"

"I would like to continue on staff and keep my teaching position and, if possible, become a deacon.  If not, I will probably find a position as teacher or social worker here in London.  I intend to continue serving God but no longer as His priest."

The Bishop shook his head sadly.  "These past months, you had finally broken out of your shell and were once again living up to our high expectations of you.  Everyone became aware of how good a priest you are and a good teacher as well.  If you stay with your vocation, you will go far in the Church. That much is apparent.  How can I convince you to stay?"

"With respect, you cannot.  No matter how hard I try to ignore it, explain it away, accept it, whatever, it all comes back to the emptiness I feel in my life.  My faith has once again become strong but the emptiness remains. Also, I am tired of holding myself back from half of humanity.  I am tired of all the unfounded rumors that surround me whenever I'm seen with any woman."

"I am sure your love for this woman is real but is it enough to pull you away from your vocation?"

"Sweating statues don't exactly make me want to hold on to my vocation," he snorted.

That got another laugh.  "Yes, I heard about that.  You were quite right to take the position you did.  If you had been in this diocese, it would not have become an issue."

But Peter had more to say.  "And perhaps if priests were allowed to marry, there would be no issue either.  Or even if celibacy were required for all priests regardless of background, it might make it easier to accept. But when men are allowed in from Church of England or wherever and are not burdened with the requirement of celibacy...  Is it too much to ask for consistency from the Church?  As it is now, she punishes the men who have been loyal to her all their lives by forcing this requirement on them."

Although the Bishop didn't like that policy any more than Peter did, he had to uphold it.  "But you accepted the requirement."

"Yes, I did.  But the consequences of celibacy I did not understand.  I believe it is psychological loneliness and not physiological hormones that is the problem.  I am convinced my time in Ireland proved as much.  I only know one way to solve it.  I'm sorry."

"But what about your work with the young?"

"I would like to continue it, if possible.  That's why I would like to remain on your staff."

"As Deacon, you would still draw a stipend but it would be less that what you have now.  Teaching doesn't add much money either.  How will you support a family?"

It was an area they had not yet discussed.  "She has a good job that she enjoys.  I don't think there will be a problem."

"I assume you are to marry in the Church."

"Most definitely.  It is only the priesthood I am leaving."

"Very well.  If I cannot persuade you to stay, perhaps I could offer to perform your wedding ceremony."

"That would be wonderful.  Thank you."  Peter was amazed but very honored. The details of his departure were worked out.  His last day as a priest would be Easter Sunday.  The marriage would occur the following Saturday. Afterwards, he would continue to teach and would serve the diocese as deacon.  In Peter's mind, it was a perfect compromise.

For her part, Marion intended to keep on working.  If and when children came, Peter was more than willing to care for them.  His schedule was much more flexible (as well as lighter) so he was the logical choice.  Neither one had a problem with that.  Since she was Catholic in somewhat more than name only, she understood Peter's faith and commitment and would never stand in the way of the practice of his faith.

But she was somewhat curious that he never had asked about financial details.  On the other hand, he never had cared about those sorts of things.

Next Saturday afternoon, he was over at her place drinking some tea as they discussed wedding plans.  He questioned how they could afford the size of wedding theirs was quickly becoming.  She brought up the issue of finances and asked him how much he made.  She couldn't believe he lived on so little and said as much.

He shrugged.  "Keeps me in beer money."

"Saving nothing for retirement?"

"No need until now.  The job did come with a guarantee of lifetime employment."

She shared his laugh.  "So you basically have no money."

"I do have an old car that my brother says is worth quite a bit."  He told her the story of the Javelin which was now in storage.  "And the money I got from my parents.  My brother has it invested for me."

"In what?"

"Haven't the foggiest.  Why?"

She shook her head in wonder.  "Tell me you don't have monster debts."

"No debt at all.  Not even credit cards."

"You are amazing.  You live well below the poverty line and it doesn't seem to matter to you."

"But I don't have to concern myself with food and shelter.  Transportation around London isn't too bad.  My wardrobe is rather basic black.  So like I said, it keeps me in beer money.  What else is there?"

"Well, you need new clothes."

"What's wrong with this?"

"Peter, it's the same outfit you've worn the past three times we've been together."

He looked at his clothes and protested, "They're clean.  Our housekeeper sees to that."

"Variety is the spice of life.  Let me guess, you only get new clothes on birthdays and Christmas."

There was that sheepish grin again.  "It's that obvious?"

"Yep."

"You know how I love shopping."

"Even less than I do.  How come you've never asked me about my finances?"

He was a bit embarrassed.  "Didn't think about it, I suppose."

"I believe it.  It's something you should be aware of."  And she filled him in on the financials.

He was impressed and said as much.

"And that doesn't bother you?  That I make more money than you?"

"Why should it?  Poverty has always been the price for God bothering."

"You won't be poor anymore.  Just promise me you won't make me give it all away to charity."

"Why would I do that?  So now I know how we can afford this wedding.  You sure you want to spend that much?"

"You only get married once, " she replied.

"Sounds familiar."

To say that both families were stunned with the news would be putting it mildly.  Her parents were pleased but cautious reminding her that he left her once, he could do it again.

"But, don't you see, he can continue doing what he loves most and still marry me.  He assures me that he won't miss hearing confessions one bit and that's all he won't be able to do as deacon.  I do love him.  I always have even when he walked away into the priesthood.  Now he's back in my life and we both want to keep it that way."

Her father had to ask, "You sure he's not marrying you for your money?"

That he would even think of doing that was so preposterous to Marion that she couldn't help but laugh.  "Peter?  Money?  He never was concerned about it at University and I find no evidence whatsoever that he is any different now.  He never once asked me what I have.  I had to bring the subject up myself.  He is perfectly content to live on whatever pittance he gets paid as a priest.  He'll earn less as a deacon, of course, but I intend to keep on working and he has no problem with me earning more money than he does."

They were not totally convinced.  Marion had been granted the nineties version of the pot of gold, stock options, and those had definitely erased any money worries she would ever have.  Although she never thought that she would be hurting for money, she never thought she would hit pay dirt either. She did the best she could to reassure her parents that this was the right decision with the right man.

They had one more objection.  Her relationship with her previous boyfriend failed after five years because of her work schedule and her career successes.  Why would it be any different with Peter?  Her response was mainly that he well understood her work habits since they had gotten back together.  Stop trying to dig up problems where none exist, she pleaded. They backed off.

Still, the first time Peter met with her parents this time around there was tension in the air.  Peter did his best to alleviate it with an apology.  "I know I was wrong to mislead your daughter into thinking we would always be together after University.  At the time, I wasn't totally sure of what I wanted.  When I did decide it was the priesthood, I really chose the worst possible way to tell her.  I am sorry.  She had every right and reason to never want me near her again.

"In fact, when she came to where I was celebrating Mass, I was initially quite reluctant to meet her.  I still felt the pain that I had caused her. But we did discuss it during our first dinner together where she did finally give me a chance to apologize.  Afterwards, we saw each other occasionally over the next year.  We felt the old friendship returning.  And we each felt the love returning as well.

"I do not believe I made the wrong choice ten years ago.  I really felt it was what I wanted to do with my life.  I do not regret the choice.  I do not regret being a priest.  But things change.  And now, I believe it is the right decision for us to marry.  I do ask your forgiveness for the pain I caused your daughter.  I will do everything in my power to atone for that from this day forward."

When he turned on the charm, he was invincible.  Her parents forgave him and the tension vanished forever as they welcomed him back into their family.

His brothers, on the other hand, gave him no end of grief over the Christmas holiday but, in the end, they were all happy for him.

Peter spent the next four months continuing his duties as a priest.  He found himself actually enjoying substituting around the diocese.  Was it because he knew it was only a matter of time before it would be all over? Probably.  The energy and drive he had once demonstrated was now back.  Life had healed.

On Easter Sunday, he was given the honor of assisting the Bishop in celebrating the Mass.  He had been fully participating in the activities of Holy Week for the last time as a priest.  It was a sad time for him and he acknowledged that to himself.  But life is full of compromises and he did not have a shred of regret over his decision.

Father Aidan conducted the wedding of Niamh Egan and Sean Dillon in the morning on Easter Saturday.  The ceremony was held at St. Joseph's although the words this time were different and the reception immediately followed in a nearby field.  Almost all the village was in attendance.  They planned to spend their honeymoon in England...on the Brighton coast.  Ireland would no longer be their home since Sean had found a job in London.  Arrangements had been made for moving their things and Brian would bring Kieran over in two weeks to his new home.

That afternoon, in London, Peter was feeling a twinge of regret as he watched the Bishop take his place at the altar to perform the ceremony that would forever put the priesthood out of reach.  But when he stood up and turned to see Marion walking down the aisle towards him, the regrets vanished forever.

The ceremony itself was a blur.  The reception was similar.  They greeted their friends and families, they danced, they ate, they drank and sat through the toasts.  The wedding cake was cut.

The happy couple was given a wonderful sendoff leaving in Peter's Javelin which he brought out of storage for just this occasion.  Their honeymoon would be on the Brighton coast.

Sean and Niamh flew to London, picked up a rental car and drove down to Brighton.  They had made excellent time arriving around four in the afternoon.  Sean had booked rooms at a very nice B&B along the coast.  The innkeeper greeted them warmly and offered them the choice of three rooms. There was a honeymoon suite that Sean requested but was told that it had already been booked.  They walked with him to look at the remaining rooms and he did show them the honeymoon suite.  It was located apart from the rest and had a stunning view of the coast.  The furnishings were first rate and Niamh found herself a bit envious of the couple that would be renting the room that night.  There was a huge basket filled with all sorts of things.  When they asked if that was included with the room, the innkeeper replied,  "Ah, no.  The groom's brothers brought it in yesterday.  They felt it only proper to provide suitable attire and  accoutrements for their brother.  He's in his early thirties but this is a first marriage for both of them."  He glanced at his watch, "In fact, the ceremony should be just about over right now in the Cathedral."

"The wedding is in a cathedral?  Are they famous?" Niamh asked.

"No, I don't think so.  The groom works for my brother, Bishop Andersen, who is conducting the wedding."

The Cliffords arrived at the inn after nine that evening.  On the way down, Peter had been getting more and more nervous.  Marion knew why and, at one point, offered to drive.  He graciously accepted.  Marion tried to engage him in conversation but he was preoccupied.  At one point, she pulled off the road and retrieved a bag out of the trunk.  She had planned to save it for later, but Peter was in a sad state and needed help now.  She got back in the car and pulled a bottle out of the bag, a 1952 Armagnac.  He wondered why she was offering it to him now.

"Because your nervousness is making me nervous.  You need to chill out. Stop worrying.  Relax.  This is our honeymoon.  We've been waiting for this day for months but you are going to shake yourself apart and the car as well if you don't calm down."

With embarrassment, he opened the bottle and drank a few sips.

"Feeling better?"

The Armagnac was incredibly smooth and flavorful.  "Not yet."

"Drink more then."

He did and, after eight or nine swallows, actually began to relax.  At that point, she took the bottle and corked it.  "No more now.  I'll not have you pass out on me.  Not on our wedding night."

"I don't think that's likely."

Conversation definitely improved after that and the time flew.

They checked in and were told to park their car down by the suite.  The innkeeper's son took their bags down to the room and was gone by the time Peter had parked the car.  As tradition demanded, he carried Marion into the suite.  They were quite impressed by the room and even more impressed when they remembered it was Bishop Andersen who suggested it.

Peter spotted the basket by the fire.  "I see my brothers are looking out for me."  There were champagne and edible goodies and cheeses and bread. Also in the basket were two matching silk robes with matching teddies and pajamas.

"Your brothers have nice taste in champagne," she commented dryly as she noticed the clothing.  "Shall I slip into something more comfortable?"

"Not right now."  He opened the champagne and poured two glasses.  They drank a short toast before forgetting about the champagne and gifts and the room and...

He watched her movements as she turned off the light and began to undress. He couldn't move.  He could hardly breathe the anticipation was so great. She was taking her time and he was not rushing her.

Now nude, she came to him and brought him closer to the bed before starting to work on his clothes.  Shirt and undershirt were made short work of.  Belt was unbuckled, pants unzipped, pants and underpants pulled down in much shorter time than she had taken for herself.  He sat on the bed as shoes, socks, and pants came off.  Although he knew there was nothing wrong with his body, he still felt very shy about being so close to this gorgeous woman even if she was now his wife.  He did not have time to dwell on it as she lay down next to him and offered her body to him.  The offer was rapidly accepted.  After his ardor had subsided, he could not believe the sensation that remained of completely being with her.  Well aware the night was not yet over, he turned his attention to her needs and desires as he explored her body fully for the first time.  He did not disappoint.

As they lay together after that, Peter was thinking back on what had happened and was amazed to find no trace of regret.  He knew Father Clifford was gone forever but there was no sense of loss or guilt.  He shifted onto his side and faced her.  The newness of this experience was far from worn off and he began again with kisses and caresses.  With only a little experience, he was able to time everything much better.

After a bit, Peter started laughing.  "You've made me the happiest man in the world."

"See what you've been missing all these years."

"This was well worth waiting for."

The next morning, Marion woke up with the sun.  She watched her husband sleeping next to her oblivious to the world.  After all these years, they were finally together for good.  That he was worth waiting for, she had no doubt.  She thought back on last night, their first night together and how quickly he overcame his awkwardness and inexperience and instead turned into a very affectionate, attentive lover.  With that thought, however, she realized that he had slept enough and decided to waken him with a kiss and caress.  He commented later that it was the nicest way he had ever woken up in his life.  She promised it wouldn't be the last.

The Dillons were eating breakfast in the main room of the inn.  The innkeeper asked how they enjoyed the room and they assured him it was quite pleasant.

"Did the other newlyweds finally make it in last night?"

"Sure, they got here at nightfall.  You should have seen the groom.  He looked quite nervous.  His wife said that I should have seen him before he drank several shots of Armagnac.  She thought the car would fall apart!  I trust she took care of him.  I've seen no sign from them, but, then, they probably aren't hungry yet."  With a wink, he was off.

Sean commented, "Must be their first marriage."

Niamh kicked him under the table and they both laughed.  They decided to drive into town and spend the day enjoying the sights.  As they walked to their car, Niamh caught sight of the Javelin parked below.  It did remind her of Father Clifford's car and she idly wondered where he was and what he was doing but Sean quickly drove that priest out of her mind.

The Cliffords preferred to spend the day in a different form of sightseeing. They did finally make it outside for a late lunch down on the beach.  It wasn't the warmest day and there was a bit of a breeze but they didn't notice.  They ate lunch, talked and walked along the beach occasionally running along the surf.

The Dillons returned late afternoon and walked along the cliff before going back to their room.  On the way, they saw two people playing on the beach. The wind obscured voices but there was something about the man that Niamh thought she recognized.  Something about the way he walked, but she just couldn't place it.  They joked about the two lovers on the beach who were playing like children, running and laughing and totally enjoying the moment.

Sean noticed Niamh take a shiver and stood behind her, wrapping his arms about her.  "Want to join them?"

"Do you think we'd be welcome?"

"Probably not.  How about something else?"

She turned to him and they stood there for a long time in close embrace.

Sean led her back to the warmth of their room.

The breeze was picking up and the Cliffords had to abandon the beach for warmer locales.  Full of sand and salt spray, they agreed that a bath definitely was in order but couldn't decide on who should go first.  They compromised and bathed together which definitely took a lot longer than bathing separately would have but they had all the time in the world.

Peter had made reservations at a nearby restaurant the Bishop had recommended.  The time was approaching so they got ready to go out for dinner.

The restaurant was rather small but cozy.  Wine was served and they began their first dinner alone together as man and wife.  Of course, their attention was only focused on themselves and their conversation frequently erupted in laughter.

Sean had asked the innkeeper for a recommendation for dinner and was told of a nice restaurant up the road apiece.  He made reservations and went back to the room to retrieve his wife.  They set off.

When he parked at the restaurant, Sean immediately noticed an old car parked nearby.  "Niamh, take a look at that."

She didn't follow his gaze.  "What?"

Sean walked over to the car, admiring it.  "A Jowett Javelin.  Why this car must be fifty years old.  Whoever owns it keeps it in great shape."

Niamh joined him.  When she could see the license plate, dawning recognition came over her.  "I think I know who owns this car."

"What?  Who?"

"Well, at least a few years or so ago, it was owned by a priest."

"A priest makes that much money?  I'm in the wrong profession."

She was preoccupied but managed to say, "Perhaps it's the price for celibacy."

Sean teased, "That car might make it worth it."

Niamh playfully hit him and they went into the restaurant.  But Niamh couldn't help but wonder just who might be inside.  She wasn't looking forward to meeting Father Clifford right then and having to explain what she was doing there with another man.  However she thought highly unlikely that he would be eating in a restaurant as expensive as this.  No doubt he had sold the car.

They were seated a few tables away from a couple who were clearly enjoying themselves.  As they looked over the menu deciding what to have, a fragment of conversation floated over to them causing Niamh to look up sharply in recognition.  Sean didn't notice.  Niamh looked intently at the man sitting at the other table.  He did look the right build and had the right color hair even if it was somewhat longer than she remembered.  But the woman he was with was clearly more than just a friend which didn't make any sense.

The waiter brought an appetizer over to Peter and Marion.  Peter turned to thank him.  At that moment, Niamh turned cold.  It was Father Clifford. Sean finally noticed Niamh staring at the other table.  He turned around but of course didn't recognize either person.  "What's the matter, Niamh?"

She didn't respond.  He put his hand on her arm and repeated the question. She broke off the stare.  "Nothing's the matter."

"You look angry."

"Do I?"  She looked back at Peter.

Sean followed her gaze.  "Do you know them?"

"Her?  No.  Him?  Yes."

"You seem annoyed."

"Annoyed?  Perhaps."  She watched the woman get up probably to use the rest room leaving Peter alone to enjoy his wine.  She debated for a time before excusing herself and walked over to Peter.

"Father Clifford?" she asked and not in a friendly manner.

It took Peter a bit to recover.  "Niamh, this is a pleasant surprise.  What brings you to Brighton?"  He set his wine glass down and offered her his hand.  She did not take it so he withdrew.

Her tone, her whole stance was hostile. "I might ask you the same question."

He had no reason not to tell her.  "I'm here on my honeymoon."  And Marion rejoined him.  He introduced her to Niamh who regarded her icily.

"Honeymoon?  It hasn't been that long since..."

He quickly corrected her.  "Twenty six months, as I recall."

Marion wasn't following the conversation at all.

Niamh couldn't believe he had married someone else and said as much.

Peter expected her anger.  "Niamh, I can't bring her back.  I would have sold my soul to the devil incarnate to bring her back.  Am I supposed to spend the rest of my life in mourning?  I don't think so.  It's not what she would have wanted."  He knew Marion would have plenty of questions about this conversation so he tried to change the subject. "How's Keiran?"

"Fine."  It was clear she didn't want to discuss her life.

He glanced around looking for Ambrose and not finding him.  "Where's Ambrose?"

Sean heard that question and got up to join his wife.  "What's going on?"

It was Peter who stood up and answered.  "I'm Peter Clifford.  I knew Niamh in Ballykissangel when I was the curate there."  He wanted to ask the obvious but decided it wasn't prudent .

Niamh wasn't able to say anything so Sean filled Peter in as to what had happened omitting the adulterous part of their relationship.  Peter immediately offered his condolences.  "I had no idea.  I am very sorry."

"Can we drop it, Father?" Niamh asked.

He kept his emotions in check and said lightly, "Only if you drop the father bit.  My wife would object."  He sat back down.

She thawed a bit and looked at Marion for the first time.  There were more than a few similarities between her and Assumpta.  Her anger was fading and she tried to brighten the tone.  "How did you two meet?"

It was Marion that answered.  "We were very close at University until he dumped me for God."

Peter continued, "And she decided on a whim to go to Mass one Saturday at a Church she had never been to before and I was only substituting at about a year or so ago..."

"Almost two years ago.  Anyway, we had dinner and, after the first few minutes, it was as if no time had passed..."

"As you might guess, Niamh, I was a basket case.  She put me to rights."  He took Marion's hand.

"We kept seeing each other off and on for several months..."

"Finally deciding to marry four months ago and did in fact do that yesterday."

"So you left the Church after all."  Niamh was saddened.

"No, just the priesthood.  It wasn't an easy decision but it is one I don't regret.  I remain a Deacon and I teach at the seminary so I haven't abandoned it.  I just took a necessary demotion."  He smiled at Marion.

Fortunately, the Cliffords' dinners were ready to be served so the Dillons took their leave.  Marion had a thousand questions to ask her husband but he clearly did not want to discuss it in public.  He had been very pleasant with Niamh, but when she left, his mood abruptly changed getting much darker.  He tried to enjoy the meal but there was a pall now present.  They left as soon as they could.

It wasn't until they got back to their room that Peter said anything about that meeting and then only after Marion prodded him.  "I don't want to mar our honeymoon by dredging up Ireland.  I don't want to talk about it.  OK?"

She was adamant.  "No, it is not OK.  Your whole attitude has gone back to where it was when we first met again.  Why?  I thought you had resolved all that."

He shrugged.  She was right.  "So did I."  He sat down on a chair fidgeting with his fingers.  "You'll be mad at me."  There was that sheepish look of embarrassment on his face.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't really tell the whole truth about Ireland and why I left."

She came over and sat across from him, waiting for him to continue.

"I talked about a close friend I had, remember?  Like a sister?  Well, she was more than that.  I had decided to leave the priesthood and marry her but, when I tried to talk to her about my decision, I really mishandled it and she walked away.  The next day, I managed to convince her that we needed to talk.  I was finally able to tell her how I felt, that I wanted her in my life and would do whatever it took for that to happen.  She had been very frustrated with me for sitting on the fence for so many months.  Anyway, she agreed to marry me.  I was the happiest man in the world."  He took a deep breath before continuing.  "Five hours later, the fuse blew in her pub.  She went down to change it and was electrocuted."

His voice broke.  "I totally lost it at that point.  I kept calling her and calling her.  The parish priest was there and was prodding me to perform last rites.  I couldn't do it.  Everyone was wanting me to perform the ritual and I finally did."  There were tears in his eyes.  "Afterwards I gathered her up in my arms and held her until the paramedics came.  I couldn't believe how the happiest day of my life could turn into such a nightmare.  It felt I died with her. I couldn't control my tears and I didn't care who saw.  After they loaded her in the ambulance, I walked away towards the bridge.  As I stood there looking up at the Church, I was so angry.  I threw my collar in the river.  God had taken away everything I had ever loved...my vocation, my faith, my parents and finally Assumpta."

He broke off for a time.  "And the worst was still to come.  I guess I just wandered around all night, I don't really remember.  The next day, people were coming up to me not to console me.  They actually expected me to console them!  And I couldn't do it.  I had absolutely nothing left to give and, for the first time in my life, I could care less.  To be asked to give comfort to others after the woman I was deeply in love with had just died was too much.  And I felt tremendously guilty because I at least indirectly caused her death by waffling over my vocation for so long.  I felt everyone was silently accusing me of exactly that...  Father Mac tells me I had a christening the next day, like he expected me to just carry on.  He knew what my feelings were towards her and still he expected me to just go on as if nothing had happened...  Well, I did do the Christening for Niamh's sake, the woman you met tonight.  She was Assumpta's close friend and was also hurting.  It was the only thing I could do for her.  Afterwards, I left without saying goodbye.  How could I?  I failed them."  He was in tears.

Marion came over to hold him.  It took a while for him to pull himself together again.

"I'm sorry.  I thought I had resolved this.  I wanted to tell you the whole story but it was too painful then.  It still is.  I'm sorry."

Marion was trying to decide what to do to comfort Peter.  "Peter, you can talk to me about her.  It's all right.  Can you tell me what she was like?"

"You sure you want me to?"  She was so he did.  And for the first time, he told the whole story including all the mistakes he made.  He told her about Leo as well and his encounter with him after her death.  And he described the depths of despair he found himself in.  With tears in his eyes, he ended with, "This is a hell of a thing to bring up on our honeymoon."

"Peter, it's alright.  You would have told me this sooner or later anyway. It's better to have it out in the open now.  Hopefully, you'll come to cherish her memory and the good times you had."

"And the time I wasted."

She agreed.  "And the time you wasted.  But at least she knew you loved her so much you would give up everything for her."

Peter was silent but the pain was decreasing.

Marion held him a while longer.  "Let's go take a walk.  OK?"

Niamh watched Peter leave the restaurant.  Sean couldn't ignore her anger and got her to talk about it.

"I just never understood him, I suppose.  I knew he was friends with Assumpta but I never believed he would be the type of priest to discard his vows for any reason.  We were all in pain after her death and he did nothing.  He was our priest and supposed to take care of us.  When we needed him the most, he showed his true colors and ran away."

"Surely it was understandable.  He's human, too, just like the rest of us."

"No, you don't understand at all.  He was living a lie and deluding the rest of us.  No one knew the extent of his love for Assumpta.  Both of them kept it very quiet indeed...  How he could stand up there at the altar is beyond me."

"Did you ever stop and think how lonely a priest's life must be?  They have to always be ready to serve the needs of their community regardless of what is going on in their personal life.  Can you imagine a life without someone to love?"  He reached for her hand.

She was not to be distracted.  "He knew the price going in."

He was still trying to reason with her, not understanding her anger at all. "Knowing it is different from living it.  He couldn't have it both ways. And realizing you may not be able to do the job you love anymore has to hurt.  He would have to feel he let not only himself down, but God as well. Imagine the guilt attached with that!  Is it any wonder it took him so long to decide what to do?  The fact that he finally reached a difficult decision and acted on it has to show his strength of character."

"But how can he be with another woman so soon after her death?"

Sean didn't want to upset her any more than she already was.  But he did know that she took far less time to marry him after Ambrose's death than Peter had taken.  He wondered if that was the problem, if somehow she was transferring her guilt onto Peter's actions, blaming him when she really was voicing her own feeling of guilt.  Not being a shrink, he remained quiet.

Niamh continued, "I trusted that man.  Our son was named after him.  He was such a wonderful person who ended up betraying every single thing he stood for.  I tried to talk to him after her death but he shut me away.  To see him so happy tonight was more than I could bear."

"Well, you took care of that," he muttered under his breath.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she asked sharply.

"Oh, come on, he was much happier before you talked to him."

"Good.  Serves him right."

Sean was seeing a vindictive side of his new wife that was a bit hard to stomach.  He knew she was strong willed but he had never seen her mean.  It was unbecoming, to say the least.

The meal came and they ate in silence.  They left for the inn.

This time they both noticed the Javelin parked below.  The couple, obviously Peter and Marion, had just come out to go for a walk on the beach.  Niamh watched them go.  Making up her mind, she told Sean to wait in their room and she set off after Peter catching up to him as he walked along the beach with his wife.

"I want a word with you...in private."

Peter stiffened before turning around to reply.  "You can have your word but not in private."

Glaring at Marion, she relented.  "How could you do this?"

"This what?"

"This everything.  Marry someone else, abandon your friends, cheat on your vows with Assumpta..."

"Niamh, we never..."

But she kept going.  "Fall in love with a married woman, hold everyone else to higher standards than you set for yourself, abandon me when I was hurting."

Peter had been listening to all this vainly attempting to keep his temper under control.  "Niamh, do not judge me."

"Oh, right, you're a priest.  A mere mortal can't judge you.  Does she know about Assumpta?  About your carrying on with my best friend right underneath our noses?  About how you led her on destroying her life because you couldn't make up your mind about yours?  It was because of you she died."

"I did not cause her death."  He spat those words out.

"No?  If you had behaved properly, like a man, you would have either married her or let her go.  But no, you kept her around and toyed with her emotions all the while."

"Niamh, you will not blame me for her death.  I did not cause it.  Why would I?  I loved her.  She married Leo because she thought it would help me resolve my difficulties with the priesthood.  And she herself realized that marrying Leo had been a mistake.  I did not come between them anymore than I always had been.  And as for my vows..."  His anger really came out.  "You have no idea how much I regret not even knowing what her lips tasted like."

Niamh was not appeased.  "You ran away."

He shook his head in anger.  "It was only because of you that I stayed to Christen your son even though every minute I remained in Ballyk after her death was torture."

"It was the least you could do and it was the least that you chose to do. How could you marry someone else so soon after her death?"

"Two years.  As I said, we knew each other at University."  Peter went on the offensive by quietly saying, "And just when was it that Ambrose died?"

She spit out the answer.  "He has nothing to do with you."

There was a part of him that was still Father Clifford.  The collar may be gone, but the man who once wore it really hadn't changed all that much.  The anger was gone from his voice as he tried to somehow comfort Niamh like he wished he had been able to do back then.  "Are you sure you're not trying to transfer your guilt onto me?  It won't work, Niamh.  I did what I needed to do for myself, not what was expected of me.  I do not have a guilty conscience over my actions past or present.  Go on hating me if you wish. That is up to you.  But you have to face facts.  I can't bring her back.  I can't remove your pain.  You have to find your path yourself.  I can tell you that it isn't easy.  I can help you if you wish but I can't walk the road for you."

By this time, her anger had faded to tears.  After brief debate with himself, Peter came closer to her and said, "Niamh, allow me my happiness as you have allowed it for yourself.  Assumpta's memory deserves that at least. I will always love her but she is gone and that will never change.  You know that.  We two were the closest to her and she would not want us to be at each other's throats.  Her memory deserves the best we can give."

Niamh could only nod in agreement and let Peter hold her as her tears flowed.  Sean had been a short distance away but did not want to intervene unless necessary.  Marion walked over to him.  Sean started the conversation, "I want to apologize for my wife's behavior.  If I had known she would react like this, I would not have let her go."

"It's clear those two had some unfinished business."

"I didn't know she was harboring such hatred towards your husband."

"If that is a sample of what Peter was feeling from the townspeople, no wonder he left.  I don't blame him one bit."

Sean smiled.  "Had he told you what had happened?"

"Yes, in bits and pieces.  Tonight he told me all of it.  No wonder he was gutted.  He had lost everything he had ever loved and had no one to turn to."

"But he's recovered now?"

"Pretty much.  Seeing Niamh upset him quite a bit.  Now I understand why."

"I have never seen her so vindictive before."

Peter had been talking to Niamh as he held her, offering the comfort he wished he could have given a year and a half ago.  Neither one ever repeated what was spoken then but it did Niamh a world of good.  They walked over to Sean and Marion.  Niamh apologized to everyone.  All this had taken its toll and they parted ways amicably.

When the Cliffords returned to their room, Peter poured himself a large Armagnac and sat down in front of the fireplace clearly in no mood for talk. Marion let him be for a time tending to various things before sitting down beside him.  When he finished his drink, he asked, "Marion, would you mind very much if we left this place tonight?"

"No, I don't mind.  Where would we go?"

"Home? Somewhere a long ways away from here."

And they left.

The Cliffords had been married for two months now and a routine was being established.  Marion had been spending many hours at work leaving Peter with time to adjust to life without the collar.  He still substituted around the diocese as needed and he often assisted the bishop on Sundays.  During the week, he kept busy with the youth ministry and started coaching soccer like he had done many times before.

Later that month, she was not working quite as long hours.  She had been complaining off and on of an upset stomach but Peter didn't think anything of it.

One night after dinner, they were sitting on the couch and his arms were around her.  Just knowing she was in his life drove his loneliness away for good.  If he had learned one thing from Ireland, it was that time is precious.  They had been talking about a lot of things when she asked him what he thought about children.

"I've always liked kids.  Why?"

"How about kids of your own?"

"I really prefer to be someone's Dad instead of everyone's Father."

Taking a deep breath, she gave him the news.  "That's good because I think you already are."

He was confused.

She clarified.  "I'm two months late."

Human biology was not his strong point.  "Late in what?"

"My period is two months late."  He hadn't noticed.  She was smiling at him and was finding his ignorance amusing.  "They don't teach sex education at the seminary, do they?"

The light was beginning to dawn.  "You're pregnant?"

"Yes.  I took the test this morning."

"When?  How?"

"On or about our wedding night.  As for the how, you were there.  We were being good Catholics and not using birth control.  I didn't even think about it at the time, idiot that I was."  Well, not quite true.  She had been prepared but their first time happened so quickly she did not have time to get it.

He was glowing and startled her by giving her a long deep kiss.  "This is fantastic.  You're pregnant.  It's unbelievable.  It's wonderful."  He hugged her and kissed her but then he noticed she wasn't saying anything.

"What about you?  How do you feel about this?"

"To tell you the truth, at first I was scared.  It is such a big responsibility and commitment...  What if we don't work out?"

He didn't know what she was talking about.  "Of course we will work out."

"Anyway, I then realized that now I am making the same commitment to you that I asked you to make by giving up the collar... You had to have had the same thoughts about us."

"No.  By the time I asked you to marry me I knew Father Clifford had died."

"Well, this is unknown territory for me, for us.  I had never thought too much about a family.  I was too caught up in my work, I suppose."

"And now?"

"Now I suppose I wish this hadn't happened yet."

He had to know.  "You still haven't said how you feel about this."

"I am a little scared."

"Why?"

"Dunno.  It's a huge responsibility."

"True.  But it is a wonderful blessing as well."

"Spoken like a true Catholic."

He laughed.  "Well, that's unlikely to change.  Are you happy about this?"

"Yes, I think I am especially with you at my side."

"I'll never leave you.  I promise that.  When is the baby due?"

"Early to mid January, I'd say."

Peter kissed her.  Glancing towards the bedroom, he asked, "Forgive my ignorance, but is it possible to make love to a pregnant woman?"

"It's not only possible, it is definitely a requirement."