To keep this third chapter of Peter Clifford's diary
as concise as possible, only entries that are relevant to the relationship
between Peter and Assumpta, and Peter's dilemma concerning his vocation
are included. Where he has recorded incidents that do not concern his feelings
for Assumpta or his vocation, these entries have not been included.
Niamh is looking a lot bigger, and has only a few weeks to go before their baby is due. I heard today that Ambrose keeps fainting at the ante-natal classes that he's going to with Niamh. She said that she feels well, but Dr. Ryan is a bit concerned about her high blood pressure. When Ambrose's mother heard this, she insisted on coming to help, and she's arriving tomorrow. Niamh gave me the impression that she wasn't thrilled by this news.
Padraig was telling me about an inspiring book he's reading at present, called 'The Way of the Phoenix'. It sets out in simple steps how to be a success in life. He's determined to get ahead, and not get left behind working in his garage in BallyK for the rest of his life.
It's really good to be back. Siobhain and Brendan were in the pub as
usual, and Assumpta was behind the bar, serving and entertaining the punters
with her usual wit. I realised how much I missed this when I was away.
I also noticed today how shabby the church doors have become, so I bought
some varnish this afternoon when I went into Cilldargan. Tomorrow I'll
find some volunteers to help me paint them.
While I was painting the doors, I noticed a strange large vehicle driving up and parking opposite the church. It turned out to be a fish and chip van that Liam and Donal have bought. They hope to catch people as they leave the church. I wasn't happy with it parked in the church car park in front of the church, so I got them to move it a little further away, which they did. I still don't like it, but it's a better spot than where they were going to put it at first.
Padraig came into the pub this afternoon looking for news. Inspired
by his new book, he approached Brian this morning and talked Brian into
employing him as the BallyK correspondent for Quigley's paper, 'The Cilldargan
Democrat'. The other regulars in Fitzgerald's would not volunteer any news,
and accused him of 'sleeping with the enemy'. They called Padraig a
turncoat, and told him their lips were sealed with respect to news
stories.
That is except for Eamonn, who told Padraig that one of his ewes was
very sick, and had nearly died. Padraig wrote the following headline in
his notebook; "BallyK female in Near Death Experience". I wonder if that
headline will sell lots of newspapers? Readers may feel duped when they
realise the female is just a sheep.
Word spread very quickly. Before the day was out, Padraig had interviewed half the village for his paper, and there were people from all around the district, coming to see it for themselves.
I asked Michael Ryan to come and see if he could identify what the 'sweat' was. He took a sample of the substance, and said he'd send it off to the lab in Dublin for analysis. It was the strangest callout he'd had in quite awhile he told us.
Fr. Mac turned up. He didn't want me to move the statue out of sight,
nor was he as keen to ignore or explain away this phenomena as I was. He
said that even a nine-day-wonder could cause a surge of real devotion.
He suggested that lots of prayers might be said, and advised me to place
a collection box in a strategic place. He told me not to be too quick to
judge, because God moves in mysterious ways. I feel very unhappy about
the whole thing. I'm sure the liquid is either some chemical reaction caused
by the materials in the statue, or it may be a hoax by someone who has
something to gain by it. Michael wiped the statue clean, so I'm hopeful
that it's the last we'll hear of it. I really hope he gets the lab results
back quickly.
Padraig's had a big scope, with the first five pages of the Cilldargan Democrat devoted to his story. It's even been mentioned in the Dublin papers. I had a phone call from one of their reporters asking for an interview. I soon put him straight about what I thought the phenomenon was.
At mass I warned the people not to automatically assume that it was a sign from God, but to keep their minds open to other more logical and likely explanations. I told them that a sample of the liquid had been collected and sent to a lab in Dublin for analysis.
When I went down to the pub later in the morning for a coffee, it was
even busier than yesterday. I tried to explain my frustration to Assumpta,
how I thought it was stupid of people to believe in a sweating statue.
"Simple people, simple faith," was her comment. I tried to point out that
simple didn't necessarily mean stupid.
"So where does simple end, and stupid start?" she asked me. "You ask
us to believe a whole lot of things that on the face of it are just as
incredible as.."
I interrupted her to explain that stupid starts when a whole lot of
people believe that a statue, that can't move, or speak, or even bleed,
starts to sweat.
She laughed then. "That's a bit rich coming from you", she said, "considering what you claim to do on a daily basis up there at the altar."
I was completely aghast at her attack on my faith and vocation. I'd actually hoped for some support from her. I paid for the coffee that I hadn't even touched, and left. Sometimes Assumpta speaks without thinking; but what hurts the most, is that I can see that there is a very fine line between what we accept as the foundation of our faith, and something as stupid and pointless as a sweating statue.
I sought the sanctuary of my house, and decided to keep away from the church and Fitzgerald's for awhile, until at least until I'd sorted out my own thoughts. I thought about the things we accept in faith, that people outside the church would argue is illogical and unproven. Things like Jesus changing water into wine. Lame men instantaneously being able to walk. The resurrection, and the virgin birth are all accepted by Christians everywhere. The changing of the bread and wine into Christ's body, referred to by Assumpta, is really no stranger than a sweating statue. Only there seems to be no point in a sweating statue, that's the difference.
This afternoon after seeing the crowds coming to visit the church, I asked Ambrose for some help. I told him in no uncertain terms that I definitely did not think it was a miracle, as he suggested, but most likely someone tampering with the statue. He explained that it wasn't a crime to tamper with a statue unless a lock was broken, or damage was done.
I confessed to him that I was becoming paranoid, and suspicious of nearly
everyone in the village, because there were so many people set to gain
from the crowds coming to see the statue. There was Padraig, with the Cilldargan
Democrat selling like hot cakes. Liam and Donal were making good profits
from selling lots of chips and burgers, and Kathleen, who was the first
to
show it to me, was doing a very brisk trade in her shop. I pointed
out that even Assumpta was raking in the money.
We both agreed that Assumpta was a very unlikely suspect, but Ambrose
conceded that we needed to catch whoever was doing it, or "everyone in
BallyK would be suspected by the priest". We decided that Ambrose would
join me at ten o'clock tonight in the church, after he'd taken Niamh out
to dinner. We planned to lay in wait in the church and catch whoever was
putting something on the statue.
It was cold in the church at night, and very dark. So every now and
then we shone our torches, to let each other know where we were. At two
o'clock in the morning we heard a noise outside, and someone stepped in.
Ambrose, who was nearest the door, leapt at the intruder with an excellent
rugby tackle, and held him in a strong head lock. I turned my torch onto
the villain's
face. To our embarrassment, it revealed a very angry parish priest.
Father Mac said that he'd had at least three separate phone calls from people reporting flashing lights in the chapel. As there wasn't a priest or guard to be found, he'd had to drive all the way from Cilldargan to investigate. After Fr. Mac had gone, we decided to go home and get into warm beds ourselves. I sat by the fire for awhile and thought some more about what Assumpta had said. We do ask people to accept a lot of things in faith. Things that are not easy to explain with logic or science as we know it. The virgin birth, the trinity, all the miracles; there are so many mysteries that we don't understand, but just except in faith. But then what about the technology we use today. We don't need to understand how by flicking a switch, a light comes on, or how an electronic voice tells us the time; we accept and use it.
However, I still believe that someone is making a mockery of our faith
by putting something on the statue, and making it look like sweat, and
I'm more determined than ever to find out who it is.
Fr. Mac organised a large procession (with music and all) to parade up to the church from the village. When I challenged him about it, he replied "If you can't beat them, join them". He reasoned that as there was going to be a crowd at mass in any case, he might as well channel idle curiosity into proper devotion. I think he's just fuelling, ignorance and idolatry. What I saw today is not what I understand as real devotion.
I asked Fr. Mac if he really thought there was a miracle going on. "Oh yes, look around you Father, there are miracles all over the place; little ones," he replied. "When did you last see Malachi Murray in church?" He suggested that some people's attendance was so rare, they should be asked to sign the visitor's book.
I felt so disgusted, I left him to it. I don't want to be associated with misleading people like that. All I wanted to do was to get back to the sanctuary of my house where I hoped I'd be able to find some sanity. These people attending church is not 'proper devotion', nor will it lead to a true understanding of our faith, no matter what Fr. Mac says. I really think he's being a hypocrite, and I don't want any part of it.
Assumpta caught up with me as I was leaving the church. She wanted to
apologise for what she'd said to me yesterday.
"I had no right to say something that cuts to the heart of what you
believe in," she said apologetically.
"You were right though," I replied.
"Right?" she questioned in surprise.
"You see," I tried to explain to her what's been on my mind these last
days.
"When I see this side of it, you know what I do, moving statues, idolatry
and ignorance; I sometimes think there's a very fine line here."
"Don't sat that," she said in horror.
"Why not?" I replied. "It's how I feel."
She tried to assure me that having a belief was a different matter.
I told her that right at that moment I wasn't sure what I believed in anymore,
regarding my faith, other people, her or even me. I made my excuse and
left. I felt utterly disillusioned about my vocation. I wondered if my
faith in God, the very foundation of my existence, was just a farce, and
I was just
deluding myself.
I went home, but couldn't find the peace I was seeking. I felt so wretched. I tried to read, but couldn't concentrate on the words. In the end I made myself some sandwiches and took a drink in a day pack and walked up into the mountains above the village, to get away from my dark thoughts. I hoped, by sitting up high above the mess below, I could get it touch with God, and try to resolve all my doubts and fears.
I felt much more relaxed when I walked back to the village several hours later. Michael came back with the results from the lab. The chemicals taken from the statue were basically chip fat, put there by Liam or Donal I supposed. All my calm was gone. I was livid, and stormed straight up to their van to have it out with them. I don't think I've been so angry, since I stopped a bully picking on one of the younger children when I was about fourteen.
"You broke into the church, the house of God, and desecrated the statue with chip fat," I raged at them. "I could have you arrested," I continued, indignant at their deceit. I told them that I should've stopped them when they set up a statue "Our Lady of the Motherlode", at their so called gold panning by the river last year. I was so infuriated because I felt that they'd made a farce of the church, myself and all we stood for.
They didn't seem to understand why what they'd done was so bad. I tried
to explain that they were making a mockery of people's beliefs, that they
led on the gullible. Liam replied that he thought that was the name of
the game.
"Well it's not the name of the game for me," I replied, incensed at
his suggestion. I was trying to control myself from grasping him by the
shoulders and shaking him. They tried to justify what they'd done by pointing
out that Fr. Mac hadn't had any problem taking the extra collection. What
could I say. I reproachfully tried to explain Fr. Mac's actions by saying
that it was a 'very complex theological and philosophical point about a
greater good coming from a lesser evil'. Liam then tried to point out a
greater good from his point of view, and offered me a complimentary
meal. I gave up. I knew I'd never in a million years get through to them,
and I felt too depressed to try. I told them that I'd wiped the statue
clean, and that there was to be no more trickery or cynicism, and left.
I really don't know if I truly believe that it's OK to allow a lesser
evil for a greater good. Nothing is ever completely black or white. If
only life was as simple as that. I'm glad the mystery is solved though,
and life can get back to normal. Rumour tonight in the pub was that Liam
and Donal's van has been closed down by an inspector from the Department
of Health. I can't say I'm sorry. I don't usually let things get me so
angry, but what they did was make the church an object of ridicule; and
caused me to question my faith.
However, when the need arose, Ambrose kept a cool head, and did everything right. Kieran was safely delivered by his father in the back seat of the car, before the ambulance arrived.
Padraig is no longer writing for the Cilldargan Democrat. Thanks to
his new book, and being sacked by Brian for delving into his business affairs,
Padraig is now going to be a land agent. He's managed to get a good price
for Eamonn Byrne, for two acres of land that Brian has bought off him.
They were arguing about it in the pub today, and trying to get the rest of us to support them. Padraig and Assumpta, who both rely on businesses for their income, didn't agree with the other three. They said that they were happy with anything that helped improve their business.
I didn't want to get involved in their argument, but when pushed for
a comment, I asked why Brian couldn't just put the road around the outside
of the wood. Brian explained that it would cost thousands of pounds more
to do this. As Brian was not interested in my suggestion, I told the three
protesters there was nothing further I could do. They did manage to get
Brian to agree to think about it some more. They told him that they'd be
watching him closely.
They arranged to meet at the work site. Brendan tried to persuade Padraig to join them, but he said that on this occasion he wouldn't go along with their stand, as he wasn't on a regular income like Brendan. Padraig explained that he had a business to run, and so would benefit from any increase in prosperity in the village.
I refused to be drawn into the argument and take sides. Instead I decided to leave and make acquaintance with my newest parishioner, Kieran Egan.
Niamh introduced me as 'Uncle Peter'; so "he wouldn't get confused calling me Father" she said. I rather liked the sound of that. I wonder if Steve will ever make me an Uncle? I hope so. It must be the next best thing to being a parent.
Niamh and Ambrose looked very tired. Young Kieran has been giving them a hard time I think. They're both looking a bit sleep deprived, especially Ambrose.
While I was there Brian arrived. He wanted Ambrose to come and remove
the protesters from his land. He'd been trying to ring the guard's office,
but had got no answer. It seems that Ambrose had fallen asleep at his desk.
I left Brian complaining to Ambrose that "you can't have owls, frogs and
toads dictating how we earn a living". When he told me, it wasn't any of
my
business, I left. I decided to go home and write this up in my journal
now while I've got some free time. I wonder how the protest is going? I
heard that Ambrose came back from the wood alone. He told Brian that he'd
have to get reinforcements if
he wanted the three protestors removed.
It must be really cold out there for them. I think I'll make some soup
for my dinner, then take some soup and sandwiches out to them and see how
it's going. I'm sure they'll appreciate it. That way I can support them
without really taking sides.
After dinner I packed the soup and sandwiches and some hot coffee, and drove out to the work site at Killnashee Wood. Michael, Siobhan and Brendan had lit a fire in an old oil drum, but they really appreciated the idea of some hot food. I was about to distribute these offerings when another set of car headlights appeared.
Assumpta'd had the same idea, and arrived with a similar spread of food. As we stood around the fire drinking our coffee, I told them about how in my University days some of us had been trying to prevent a carpark being built. The archaeology students had sown the site with artefacts such as arrowheads and bones, which had held up the work for months.
Michael's face lit up. He suddenly remembered that he still had a few souvenirs from medical college at home, that might serve a similar purpose. Within a minute all three of them had left us holding the fort, while they drove home to get organised and collect some warmer clothes. I tried to protest, but Assumpta offered to stay with me if I was afraid of the dark.
We decided to sit in my car, as it seemed warmer than standing out in the cold night air, even near the fire. The atmosphere as we sat in the confined space of my car was uncomfortable and tense. I felt tongue-tied and couldn't think of anything to say to break the ice. A lonely owl hooted in the distance, but we still didn't seem to have anything to say to each other. The silence was awkward in our confined space, not at all like the friendly night we'd spent at my house with the abandoned baby last year.
I was very conscious of how physically close and alone we were, and I wondered what Assumpta was thinking. I didn't dare look at her, so I looked straight ahead at the foggy window, and wiped it clean with my sleeve.
Assumpta tried to start a conversation by telling me how Brian Quigley
had suggested that the road he was building would mean that money was going
to "gush up through the floor".
"But at what cost?" she added.
"Nothing is ever simple, is it? I replied, thinking of more than just
this road.
"No," she replied.
The silence was nearly deafening.
"We don't really have a lot to say to each other, do we?" she observed.
"Don't we?" I asked. There were lots of things I would've liked to
say to her, but couldn't.
"No, but the owl's quite chatty though," she added.
Again there seemed to be a long silence. In one way I wanted the others
to return and end this tension, but on the other hand I didn't want this
time together to end. Assumpta started to laugh to herself at a thought
she had.
"What?" I asked her. She explained that us sitting in the car reminded
her of the time when she was about sixteen, and there was a priest who
went around shinning a torch into the windows of parked cars.
"Looking for...?" I started to ask, then felt embarrassed when I realised
what she meant.
"What do you think?" she said.
"Oh yeah," I replied, feeling a bit foolish. She started to laugh again.
"What?" I asked her.
"I was just thinking," she replied.
"What about?" I asked
"What would you do if Fr. Mac shone a light through our window?"
"Tell him to mind his own business," I replied with no hesitation.
"You surprise me," she declared.
"Do I?" I wanted to ask her in what way, but didn't.
"Yeah, constantly." She shivered.
"You cold?" I asked her as I took her hand in mine.
"Yeah, err, no," she replied confused, as I wrapped both my warm
hands around her cold one.
"You feel cold," I told her, and I started to raise her cold fingers
to my lips. Instead I moved them to my face, and held them against my forehead.
She didn't pull away, but her eyes were watching me with uncertainty. I
so much wanted to wrap my arms around her, and warm her up. I may have
done if the appearance of car lights hadn't signalled the return of the
others at
that moment.
"I hope you were paying attention, Father," Brendan called out as he
got out of Michael's car.
"Yes, I was," I insisted guiltily.
Assumpta said she'd be off home and walked towards her car. I followed
her, looking back over my shoulder to reassure myself that the others weren't
watching us. Thankfully they were far too busy walking into the woods to
bury their treasure, to be interested in us.
"Assumpta," I called, and she turned around to face me as she reached
her car.
"Good night, Peter," she said gently. She looked so beautiful in the
moonlight, her skin appeared to be as smooth as silk. I reached out and
brushed the hair from her face, and stroked her cheek as I did. I felt
an electric shock as my fingers touched her skin. I looked at her; it was
as if we were mesmerised for a second. She seemed confused as she looked
at me. We were standing so close, the slightest move forward and I could
have kissed her. It was the most natural thing to happen, but I found myself
holding back and the moment was lost.
"I'm a priest," I said, as much to her as to myself.
"That's fine, be a priest," she said, then turned away. She stepped
into her car and drove off. I felt utterly confused and miserable as I
watched her headlights disappearing in the distance.
My longing for her was so strong. I've never experienced such intense feelings for someone before in my whole life. I'm amazed I was able to resist the temptation. I walked back to my car slowly, and called goodnight to the others. When I got in and closed the door I could still smell her unique perfume, reminding me that it wasn't all a dream. My mind was in a turmoil as I drove back to BallyK. As I passed the pub it appeared to be dark. I wondered what she was thinking and feeling at that moment? Was she as confused as I was?
As I am writing all this down, I'm uncertain as to what I'm going to do? Can we continue as friends like before, pretending nothing has happened? I think that Assumpta feels some sort of attraction for me too, but as I'm a priest, she'll be wary of any involvement that's too personal. I think that whatever happens, is all up to me.
I wonder what the situation would be like if I wasn't a priest? I find
myself at the moment actually wishing I wasn't a priest. Why do priests
have to remain celibate? Surly the churches whose clergy are allowed to
marry are no worse because of it. I'm just raving on. I'm writing down
all these resentful thoughts because I can't have what I want. It's after
midnight, I think I'll just try to go to bed and pray that an answer will
come to me in my dreams; that is if I can get to sleep and dream.
It was just staring to get light when I got up and got dressed, and walked down to the river. Someone had left a coke can lying among the rocks. I set it up, and took my frustrations out on it, trying to hit it with the stones. I felt angry with God, at Fr. Mac, the church and everyone who insists that priests should take celibacy vows. I thought about walking away from my vocation. I wonder what Mum would think, if she knew how I felt? I don't think I can do it to her. I know Steve would just laugh at me and say "I told you so".
It's obvious that I need to talk to someone. There's no one else other
than Fr. Mac, so I rang him and asked him when he'd be in BallyK next.
He said he'd see me tomorrow, so I decided to write this up in you, my
journal to try to make sense of it all. However, it hasn't really helped;
I'm no closer to an answer about what to do than I was last night.
This afternoon I noticed Ambrose's car parked outside the church. When it was still there after half an hour, I went over to investigate. It appears that Ambrose had fallen asleep, and only woke up when I spoke to him. He insisted that he was all right, and didn't need any help. It seems very strange, but I went back into the church.
It took a few seconds to register that there were two fellows in there taking some gold candlesticks. I called out to them to stop, and they ran out of the church and through the gates. I yelled out to Ambrose, to cut them off.
The thieves clambered into a waiting car, and drove off at great speed. Ambrose lunged out and managed to catch on to their door handle. They dragged Ambrose along with them for a short way before he fell. When I reached him lying on the road, I could see that he was hurt. I instructed a passer-by to call an ambulance, and I stayed with him, trying to make him comfortable. Thankfully the ambulance was very quick, and it wasn't long before Ambrose was on his way to the hospital in Cilldargan.
I had to go to the pub to find Niamh, but managed to avoid being alone
with Assumpta. I drove Niamh and Kieran to the hospital, where we met Brian.
I felt awful that by calling out to Ambrose to stop the thieves, I'd caused
him to be injured. When Brian and Niamh were allowed to go in to see Ambrose
I held Kieran for them. He's such a beautiful baby, looking at me with
big trusting eyes. I'd love to be the father of such a little boy. I actually
felt envious of Ambrose at that moment, even though I knew he was in pain
and discomfort. I've really made a mess of everything lately.
Fr. Mac found me in the church this morning.
"You wanted to see me? he said.
"Yes, I need your advice," I replied
"Advice from me?" he said in a surprised voice, "then I'd better sit
down. Advice about what?"
I was trying to find the right words to explain my dilemma and the
confused state of my mind.
"Or would you like me to guess," he offered, when I didn't answer straight
away. "I'd quite enjoy that."
"No," I replied quickly.
"Then what do you want to talk about?" he asked.
"About being a priest, I suppose." I replied.
"Oh, you surprise me, Father," he said "A crisis of faith; not what
I expected."
"What did you expect?" I asked, remembering that it was less than two
days ago when Assumpta had said that I constantly surprised her.
"You tell me," he suggested.
I tried to explain that it was not a question of faith, but more an
understanding of faith. "What it means to be a priest"?
"To serve God." He answered simply.
I tried to explain that a person can serve God without being a priest.
I told him that I believed that the community didn't really need me; that
there had to be more to being a priest than just saying mass, hearing confessions
and officiating at weddings, funerals and christenings.
"Doing good works," he suggested hopefully.
"Visiting the poor and preaching about camels with humps and needles
with eyes?" I put forward.
"What have you been reading, Father?" he asked me, looking puzzled.
"The New Testament." I replied truthfully, surprised at his question.
"Oh, very clever, Father," he said. He then went on to tell me that
he knew what my problem was. I was a bit taken back, because I wasn't trying
to be funny.
"Sorry?" I said, feeling puzzled as to what he thought my problem was.
"Assumpta Fitzgerald is your problem." He declared. "We live in a very
small community, Father."
I tried to protest. "I hope you don't think that... Nothing's happened."
I tried to reassure him.
"Is something likely to happen?" he asked.
"No," I replied quite confidently.
"Father, can you stand before that altar and tell God that nothing
is likely to happen?" he asked, looking me straight in the eye.
I thought about us in my car out at the Badger wood the other night.
I knew I couldn't answer his question. Under similar circumstances something
could very possibly happen if I didn't get more control of my life.
"Then that's your problem," he declared, when I didn't answer his question.
"That is why you are dissatisfied with your vocation." He suggested
that temptation and pain was sent for serious priests to temper their metal.
Fr. Mac suggested that I had a simple choice, either leave the parish, or 'scrub this woman' from my life. I knew that I was happy in BallyK, so I told him that I didn't want to leave. He suggested that in that case I needed help. He proposed that I go on retreat for a few weeks. "To touch base again, and to feel my vocation" were his exact words; and he suggested I go as soon as possible. It seemed like a very sensible idea. It would give me a break from seeing Assumpta, and help me get my life back in perspective.
After making arrangements to leave the parish in two days time, I knew that I owed Assumpta an explanation, so I went down to the pub. The usual crowd were there. Niamh had just successfully persuaded Brian to put the road around the wood for Kieran's sake, so everyone was in a relaxed celebratory mood.
I felt a bit awkward and uncomfortable as I entered, but managed to
catch Assumpta's eye, and nodded towards the kitchen, indicating I wanted
a private word with her.
"Fr. Mac's just given me a talking to," I told her.
"That was nice for you," she replied.
I told her that I probably deserved it, and that he'd made a few things
clear in my mind. Firstly that I didn't want to be the kind of priest Fr.
Mac was, but that I wanted to be as good a priest as I could possibly be.
"You're still sitting on the fence then," she suggested, and looked
upset.
"No," I tried to explain to her. "I've got off the fence, and Fr. Mac's
shoved me onto a ladder by ordering me to go on retreat in a couple of
days time."
"Is that it then?" she asked.
"Yes," I replied, "that is it." I could see that she was very upset
at my words, and tears were starting to form. She turned away from me.
"Thank you for telling me." She said, nearly choking on her words.
"This'll help me make my decision."
"What decision?" I asked, as she moved towards the bar door. She didn't
answer my question.
"Excuse me, I've got customers," she called over her shoulder, but
didn't look at me. She practically ran into the bar, leaving me standing
alone in her kitchen. I didn't feel as confident about my decision as I
had earlier. It was obvious that my announcement had really upset Assumpta.
I felt even more confused when I went home and started to sort out what
I needed to do before I could go. I found it difficult to concentrate;
all afternoon I could see her face in my mind. I've never seen her upset
like I did today, and I feel guilty that I've been the cause of it. On
the other hand, I've really got no choice. I'm glad that I told her what
I'd decided to do, and didn't run away like I did from Manchester. I can't
think of anything else I could've done.
Fr. Mac was right. It has been good to 'touch base again, and feel my vocation'. It's so easy, as a curate living alone amongst the people, to lose touch with the reasons why I became a priest. I've been able to pray and meditate without the disruptions of parish duties, and distracting thoughts of a certain beautiful young woman. Well, maybe just slightly less thoughts of her.
However, at night it's been a different matter. I keep dreaming of her, even more than before; seeing her in tears when I tried to tell her that I wanted to try to be the best priest I could be. She'd looked stricken, as if my announcement had been a great blow to her. I can still see her face as I told her. It was as if I'd wounded her deeply. Do you think I led her on? Did I give her reason to think we might be able to share more than just friendship? Maybe I did, but I didn't mean to mislead her.
I wish I could take away the hurt. I wonder what she's doing at the
moment? She wouldn't tell me what she meant, when she said I'd helped her
make her decision. She seemed to imply that my decision to go on retreat
helped her decide something more than just going to London for awhile.
As a priest, my first duty is to do God's work in the parish. I'm going
to treat Assumpta with the same friendliness I do all my other female parishioners,
like Siobhan and Niamh for example, but I'll avoid being alone with her.
That's where the danger lies.
Things started off on the wrong foot when Eamonn saw me step off the Dublin bus in Cilldargan, and insisted he give me a lift to BallyK, instead of catching the bus. It was a very slow trip, which was rather lacking in fresh air. However it was nice of him to offer, but I really would've liked to be on my own, indulging in my own thoughts, instead of trying to keep up the polite conversation.
I was looking forward to getting back into my own little house. I unlocked the door and let myself in. It was a relief to dump my heavy rucksack. I was hoping to have a hot shower before catching up with all my friends at the pub. So I was completely taken by surprise when confronted by two nearly naked young ladies chasing each other down my stairs.
There was nothing else for it but to go and find Brian, and find out why he's rented out my house to some young tourists, and for how long. To my utter annoyance, on top of everything else, my car won't start. It sounded as though the battery was flat, so I decided to walk the distance and get some exercise at the same time.
It was very quickly obvious that while I've been away, Brian has managed to get himself into some financial difficulties. Not only has he rented out my house, but his phone's been cut off, and his Range Rover was being repossessed as I arrived. No wonder he wasn't very sympathetic towards my problems. Apparently the Korean enterprise in which Brian had invested so much, didn't come off.
I went to Fitzgerald's to use the phone to ring Fr. Mac and see what he could arrange for me. I was relieved to find Niamh in charge, while Assumpta's still in London. I left a message for Fr. Mac and decided to have a pint while I waited.
It didn't take me long to see that there was even more things wrong
in BallyK, besides Brian's problems. The atmosphere in the pub was so cold,
you could've cut it with a knife. Siobhan and Brendan have had a falling
out over fishing, and Siobhan's called him a 'cold fish'. Padraig wasn't
there, and hasn't been in the pub for over a week, ever since the others
made fun of his singing.
"I just don't believe this," I said. "I leave you alone for a few weeks
and you're at each other's throats."
Alloyisis McLogan, a publican from Cilldargan, was there, checking out our pub. He made a few derogatory remarks about the lack of life and atmosphere in Fitzgerald's, compared to his pub. I tried to tell him how lively it can get in Fitzgerald's. McLogan laughed, and said that he'd seen livelier sheep run over on the road. I then told him that the regulars in Fitzgerald's could out sing, out wit and out play his crowd any day of the week.
Before I knew it, Naimh and I had challenged McLogan to a Pub Tournament
in Fitzgerald's this Friday night for three barrels of stout.
"It's just what this place needs, a big event to get everyone talking
again," I explained to Niamh.
"We've already had one of those." She said, then went out into the
kitchen where Kieran had started to cry. I followed her, and asked what
she meant. She replied that she shouldn't have said anything, as it wasn't
her place to tell me.
"I'm your parish priest," I reminded her, "if you can't confide in
me...?"
She asked me if I remembered Leo, Assumpta's old boyfriend from College.
"The one who came to cover the election?" I recalled
"Well he's got married," she told me. I wondered what that had to do
with anything.
"Who too?" I asked; then the significance began to dawn.
"Assumpta?" I suggested, in amazement.
She told me that they'd met in London and got married in a Registry
Office.
"No friends, no family. The first I heard of it was a phone call."
Niamh was obviously upset. I was speechless for a moment, then managed
to pull myself together as the news started to sink in.
"Assumpta's a grown woman," I said, as much to convince myself as Niamh.
"She can make her own decisions."
There was an uncomfortable silence, so I made an excuse about having
to start organising the tournament, and left.
As I left, I felt as if the bottom had dropped out of my world. I couldn't
even go to the sanctuary of my own house to grieve. That's how I felt;
as if I'd just lost my best friend. I remembered the fond hug Assumpta
had given Leo about two years ago, when he'd first arrived in BallyK to
cover the election, after the death of the local Member of Parliament,
Bertie O'Doyle.
She'd seemed awfully happy to see him.
The only place I could escape to, to be alone and gather my thoughts and get my emotions under control was the church. I was thankful that Niamh had warned me, so I had time to prepare myself before I saw Assumpta. I remembered the time that Leo came here to the church and confessed how much he still loved Assumpta, and how he'd never really loved anyone else.
All the decisions I'd made while on retreat, regarding Assumpta were now irrelevant. I walked down to the bridge to think, my mind was in a turmoil. I should be happy for Assumpta. Her marriage is just what I need to put any thought of her out of reach, so I can get on with my life as a priest. Instead I felt as if there was nothing left to live for. I felt utterly miserable.
I watched the water ripple over the rocks and stones on its way downstream.
I wondered how much water had passed this point and gone on its way to
the sea since I'd known Assumpta. I had hoped that when she came back,
we could've continued as friends, accepting the limitations of my being
a priest. Now she's a married woman we can't be friends in that way ever
again.
There was nothing for me to do but to go and start organising the Pub Tournament. I wished that I'd never issued the challenge. I have enough on my mind without that responsibility. I went and found Padraig, and with a little persuasion, managed to get him to agree to represent Fitzgerald's in the singing part of the tournament.
When I went back to the pub, I was told that Brendan used to be called the 'Domino King of BallyK'. So he was an obvious choice to lead the BallyK Domino Team. I managed to get Brendan to agree to do it, and for Siobhan to be trained by Brendan as his partner. At least the organising of the tournament was going well, even if inside myself I felt depressed and disinterested in anything. I had to force myself to keep going.
Brendan and Siobhan were still bickering and insulting each other. "For
God's sake," I said, feeling impatient with their childish antics, "there's
enough misery in the world without you two adding to it." I really don't
know what's got into them all while I've been away.
I came in at that moment. Brendan was sitting alone frowning, and just
watching the action. It was obvious that he wasn't exactly overjoyed by
their announcement either.
"You'll have to forgive Brendan for getting all emotional," Siobhain
said to Assumpta. Brendan must have realised how rude he appeared, so he
went over to hug Assumpta and shake Leo's hand, but he wasn't very enthusiastic.
I said 'Hi!' to both of them, then waited to be told what thankfully
I already knew, and so was prepared for.
"They're married, Father," announced Siobhain.
"Married?" I tried to act surprised and happy. "You two? Well that's
fantastic, both of you." I said, hoping that my words didn't sound as hollow
as they were.
"Thanks Father," said Leo, "Your advice paid off, . eventually."
I mumbled some excuse, and made my escape. I was feeling absolutely
rotten, wondering how I was going to survive seeing them together. I put
myself to work putting a new battery in my car. I hoped that it would fix
that problem. I still haven't found some where to live, and slept on a
camping mattress in the sacristy last night. Not very comfortable, but
then I wouldn't have got much sleep anywhere last night. Assumpta came
up from the pub to talk to me while I was trying to put the battery in.
"I didn't get a chance to talk to you back there," she said in a chatty
way.
"How was your time away?"
"It was OK thanks, " I replied politely.
"Good, Niamh told me about the tournament thing. It's a great idea,"
she said.
"It's a stupid idea," I lashed out angrily. "I don't know why I get
involved. If people want to waste their time squabbling with each other,
who am I to spoil their fun?"
"You're a priest," she said laughing, "Spoiling fun is your job."
"Yeah, right," I replied unenthusiastically. I wasn't going to retaliate,
as she expected me to.
"Come on. You're doing it because you care. You're good at bringing
people together, and helping them make sense of their lives."
She didn't realise how much she confused me, so that I couldn't make
sense of my own life. She went on, unaware of the effect of her words on
my emotions. "It's thanks to you that I finally realised that I needed
to sort out .."
I cut in, to stop what I didn't want to know. "Please don't." I kept
my eyes concentrated on where I was working on my car. She had no idea
how much her words hurt me; they were like a knife being turned in my heart.
"Peter, will you look at me when I'm talking to you?" I reluctantly
looked at her, hoping that she couldn't see the pain in my eyes.
"Assumpta," I said. I tried to mask the love I felt for her, but I
don't think I was able to. She must have realised the hurt she was causing
me; her next words were the last thing I expected to hear.
"I'll tell you what then," she said, "we can get all the tournament
takings and put it towards the church roof."
I smiled and told her there was nothing wrong with the church roof.
"Oh, right," she said with a glimmer of a smile, trying to make light
of the tense atmosphere. "Well, maybe we could send Fr. Mac on a pilgrimage
to the heavenly shrines in Alaska."
I knew I had to change the subject.
"Do you think that Leo will be interested in being on the quiz team?"
I asked her.
"Why don't you ask him yourself," she suggested. "Aren't you going
to stay at our place?"
I explained that I'd already made other arrangements, but didn't go
on to say what they were.
"You're not going to stay in that, are you?" she asked, nodding towards
my car.
"Why not?" I asked flippantly. "Sacraments on wheels. Twenty-four hours
a day; christenings, confessions, instant weddings." I think she finally
got the hint that I wasn't in the mood for an in depth discussion on anything
with her at that moment.
"Right, ..well see you later," she said, and turned away.
"Yeah, bye," I replied in an off hand manner, concentrating on the
workings of my car as she left.
To think that two days ago I was looking forward to coming home. The way I feel at the moment I could just walk away, and stay away forever. Everything is going wrong. My car is still giving me trouble, even after a new battery. My house is occupied by strangers and I've nowhere to call my own. I can't cook or have a shower, and I'm sleeping in a sleeping bag in the sacristy.
On top of all my troubles, everyone else seems to be having problems
of some sort of their own. Brian has his financial woes, and the three
musketeers who were such good friends, are still not really talking to
each other like they used to. I've managed to talk Brendan into going into
the domino competition with Siobhain, and Padraig has agreed to sing, but
they're doing it grudgingly. Even Niamh and Ambrose are finding Kieran
and his wakefulness at night nearly too much to cope with.
Ambrose came in to investigate the attempted break in this morning while I was still shaving. He thinks it may be the same person or people who turned over Michael Ryan's surgery a few nights ago.
He pointed out some spots I'd missed when wiping my face of soap.
"One of the joys of marriage", he pointed out, "is having someone to
check for soap in your ears".
I didn't need to have the joys or advantages of marriage pointed out
to me at that moment; but I didn't say that to Ambrose. It's one of the
things that's making me so dissatisfied with my life, and questioning why
I'm a priest. I had no choice but to have my evening meal at Fitzgerald's
tonight. It seems that Leo was called away to cover a story, and he never
came back all evening. I don't think Assumpta was very pleased at being
left to cope on her own tonight.
I was very tired, even before the tournament started; however when asked about sleeping in the sacristy I was able to pretend it was OK, and joke about how it was handy to my work. I think Assumpta's guessed why I haven't chosen to stay at the pub. Late when Niamh offered to let me stay in her spare room, I accepted with pleasure. Unfortunately Brian's house was repossessed this afternoon, and I didn't have the heart to push my prior claim when he arrived on Niamh's doorstep just before midnight, asking to stay with them. I quietly retreated back to the church.
The tournament would've been fun under normal circumstances. McLogan's singer was a young lady called Aisling who sang a beautiful rendition of "Love is teasin." The words were rather appropriate for the situation Assumpta and I were in. I caught her looking my way during the words:
'Forgive me love if I forsook you. I was mistaken, I never knew,'
After Aisling finished, I looked away quickly, but wondered what Assumpta
was thinking. Did the words hurt her like they did me; like a knife stabbing
me in the heart? I don't know how I'm going to continue to survive each
day like this. The words continued:
I wish, I wish, I wish in vain, I wish I was a maid again.
Is Assumpta wishing this?
Love is a treasure when first it's new,
but as love grows older, then love grows colder,
I know my love won't fade, will hers?
And it fades away like the morning dew.
What cannot be cured love, must be endured I have to endure this pain.
Padraig had a sudden attack of laryngitis, and couldn't sing. This put McLogan's ahead of Fitzgerald's by one event. Next was the domino competition, in which Brendan and Siobhain were pitched against a very elderly looking couple. I think they thought it was going to be a cinch, so that when they lost, Brendan started to accuse them of cheating. Luckily, the old man was hard of hearing, and the McLogan team was ruled the winner by Fr. Mac who'd turned up to adjudicate.
At the same time as the domino competition was on, the 'yard of Ale' was being contested, with Liam being our representative. He nearly freaked out and left when he saw the size of his opposition. None of us felt very confident either when we saw the large beefy McLogan's candidate with an enormous beer gut.
Standing to one side, I watched Assumpta laughing and joking as she carried out the first full 'yard of ale'. I loved her so much. She looks so beautiful when she's happy. As I watched her, I felt all churned up inside as I recalled Leo's words from last year. They could've been my own "I don't think I've ever really loved anyone else," he'd said. And now she belongs to him. I know that I won't ever love anyone else.
As I watched her bring out the second yard of ale, I let my thoughts wander. No matter what, retreat or no retreat, I'm as much in love with Assumpta Fitzgerald as I ever was. I wonder what would've happened if Assumpta hadn't married Leo, and I'd come back from retreat to find her waiting for me, as I'd left her a month ago? Would I have given up my vocation for her? I don't know, but her marriage has put a stop to any such notions.
McLogan's contestant in the 'yard of Ale' was disqualified when he went outside and was sick. Fitzgerald's finally had some points on the board, thanks to Liam. There was only the quiz to go, for us to retrieve the situation. Leo hadn't turned up, so Donal, who'd been nominated as a substitute, offered to fill in. However, he was quickly asked to remain the substitute in case another was needed, and I took Leo's place, keeping Donal as 'an element of surprise'.
The points accumulated fairly evenly on both sides until Michael Ryan
was called away by Ambrose, to see a patient. Ambrose apparently caught
someone trying to break into the BallyK school while he was trying to get
Kieran to fall asleep by walking him in the pram. Ambrose set a trap by
the exit door, then called out from a window for the burglar to give himself
up to the
police. Naturally the burglar ran, twisting his ankle in Ambrose's
trap as he came out of the door.
The scores stood at 55 points for each pub, with three questions to go, when Fitzgerald's introduced their 'element of surprise'. The next question was "What is the length of the marathon, to the nearest yard?" Before anyone had time to discuss it, Donal called out 'six inches'. The length of the Marathon Chocolate. Incorrect, so McLogan's won the point. We scored the second point, so everything would be decided on the last question. Fr. Mac read out a quote I'd never even heard of, and asked who'd said it. It turned out to be some obscure philosopher that Donal had read about when he'd picked up a discarded book, titled "A guide to Modern Philosophy," thrown out by Dr. Ryan. Although he had a very incorrect pronunciation, he had the correct name, so Fitzgerald's were awarded the point and so won the tournament, thanks very much to both Liam and Donal.
Assumpta said she'd use the three hundred pounds (the cost of the three barrels of stout Niamh and I had challenged McLogan with), to give to Donal and Liam to fix her leaky bathroom. Assumpta seemed very happy at that moment, and confided in me that we'd raised enough money to send Fr. Mac to the moon. For a few moments it was just like old times, where we shared that special understanding like fellow conspirators.
After the tournament I went home with Niamh for coffee, expecting to sleep in her spare room. Brian arrived just as we were about to go to bed. They offered me their couch, but I insisted they look after Brian. He looked like he needed a sympathetic ear. I left quietly, taking my rucksack, and intending to go back to the church. As I stood in their doorway Leo arrived home.
I watched as he electrically closed the top on his smart sports car.
The lights flashed as he locked it. I stood unseen in the darkness, as
he let himself into the pub. I couldn't help thinking about where he'd
be sleeping tonight, compared to me in a lonely church, on a makeshift
bed in a sleeping bag. I felt envious and more miserable than I've ever
felt before. There was
this awful gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach that just wouldn't
go away.
Can I stay here in BallyK, watching Leo live where I yearn to be? Can
I continue as a priest and carry on my duties faithfully, when inside me
I feel as I do? What am I going to do? Everything I decided while on retreat
went out the window the moment I returned and learnt of Assumpta's marriage.
Maybe if I'd stayed here she wouldn't have married Leo. I've tried to pray
for guidance and wisdom, but even God seems to have deserted me. Nothing
seems to help relieve this misery and pain I feel.
He insisted that I book myself into a B&B if I couldn't find somewhere more suitable. This made me really furious. Here I was, trying to do a job under impossible conditions. I felt I had every right to complain when it was his responsibility to find me somewhere to live. I told him this in no uncertain terms.
When I stood up to his bullying tactics, he became absolutely enraged, and started to shout. Next moment he went red in the face and clutched his chest. I realised immediately that he was having a heart attack. I quickly loosened his collar and called Dr. Ryan, who came straight away.
When Fr. Mac was more comfortable, Michael, explained that Fr. Mac needed
to go to Cilldargan for some tests. Our stubborn parish priest insisted
that he didn't want anyone to know about him being unwell, and agreed to
go to Cilldargan, but only if he could go in my car. I felt guilty that
I'd caused the attack, and was worried enough to agree to anything he wanted.
Unfortunately it's got some parishioners very angry and others are feeling
threatened by it. I haven't any problem with the philosophy of it, but
the mess left by the person who's been ripping all the posters down, as
fast as they're being put up, is annoying. I've tried to stay out of any
of the arguments. This isn't just to avoid any unnecessary contact with
Assumpta, but also because I'm completely flat strapped. Apart from my
own regular duties, I'm spending much of my day in Cilldargan doing the
parish paper work for Fr. Mac, then on top of that, I'm trying to keep
everyone else from finding out that he's unwell. At least its keeping Fr.
Mac from finding out that I'm still sleeping in the church.
Assumpta's Women's Group is still giving me some hassles I'd rather not have. Brendan wanted me to reassure Eamonn, that the change in economic balance in favour of women didn't mean he was going to be thrown off his land, in favour of his niece who lived in America. I really don't need this on top of everything else.
I spent the afternoon in Cilldargan. I can't understand why Fr. Mac doesn't want people to know that he's sick. I tried to explain that the people care about him, and that he could rely on others to help. He is a very stubborn man; and he insisted that he doesn't need any help.
As I'm the cause of his heart attack in the first place, I have to help
him in anyway he wants it done. It's the only way I can make amends. I
finished up my work and decided to eat in Cilldargan again, driving back
to my inadequate lodgings after dinner. I wonder how much longer I have
to put up with all this. It's just about driving me crazy.
To try to diffuse the situation somewhat, I decided to have a talk to
Assumpta, and try to show her some of the down-side of what she is trying
to do.
"You don't approve?" she asked me. I tried to explain that I knew she
wasn't trying to bring down the church, but that "other people have different
views, and that their ideas deserve as much respect as hers". I told her
that I'd had an earful.
She guessed immediately that it was Kathleen I'd been talking to. Being the ever impetuous Assumpta, before I could stop her, she stormed straight out of the pub across the road to Kathleen's shop, to tackle her about it.
Assumpta's views have had a big impact on Niamh. She's put the ten thousand pounds left to her from her mother, into Brian's company and has become a partner. This was on condition that Brian consult with her on all decisions. He's also agreed to sell the land that's been the main cause of all his financial problems, even at a loss. Lastly, he agreed to move out of Niamh and Ambrose's place, into something of his own.
I've noticed that all doesn't seem to be well between the newly weds.
Leo's been joking in the pub about how small BallyK is compared to Dublin.
The expression on Assumpta's face shows that she's not amused by the things
he's said, supposedly in jest. It's a bit of a worry. For a couple who've
only recently married, they don't seem very close when they're together.
As I looked up into the vastness of the universe created by God, I reminded
myself of how great God is, and yet He says the hairs on our head are known.
All we have to do is ask and He will answer. So again, as I stood there
gazing at the stars I asked Him to take this burden from me. I told Him
that I felt I was nearly at breaking point with all these responsibilities,
in
addition to the strain of trying to control my emotions where Assumpta
is concerned. I went back inside the church still feeling depressed, and
rested my head on the rail. Again I pleaded with God to help me sleep and
cope with this difficult situation.
"Do you want to talk about it?" asked a familiar voice. I startled.
I thought I was completely alone
"What?"
"Whatever's got you looking so knackered."
"You think talking solves everything, don't you." I accused her.
"Ah, a trouble shared," she offered. "Oh, I forgot, priests only talk
to God," she added sarcastically. I was exhausted.
"I haven't got the strength, Assumpta. And most of it's your fault,
anyway."
She was about to protest, but I continued.
"No, I mean, I'm living in the sacristy. I've a lot on my mind, and
I don't need half the parish coming up to me about your Women's Group."
She again started to refute what I was saying, but I wanted to get my frustrations
off my chest. I turned and looked at her.
"I know it's stupid, but you put ideas into their heads. You put ideas
into people's heads. You just don't think, do you Assumpta?" She looked
taken back, and upset at my forceful words.
"I'm sorry," she said, and turned to leave, then stopped.
"Peter."
"What?' I asked.
"You can tell anything to a friend." She offered.
"Priests don't have those kinds of friends," I told her. She left quietly
and I sadly watched her go. I knew I'd hurt her, but she's a married woman
now. We can't have the same understanding and close friendship as before.
After she'd left, I went back outside to get some more fresh air. I
felt I really needed it. I took a deep breath. I do feel knackered. Why
can't I sleep when I'm so tired? Images of my conversation with Assumpta
were with me as I returned to my sleeping bag, intending to try to get
some sleep.
Fr. Mac looked like he'd seen a ghost when he first saw Nainsi. I introduced them, hoping he'd be able to shed some light on the puzzle of Eileen's disappearance. When I offered to get them some tea, Fr. Mac asked for something stronger; a most unusual request from our parish priest.
It seems that Eileen was well liked in BallyK. Nainsi showed us a photo of her sister, taken by the bridge before she left. I was quite amused when I recognised the other person in the photo as being Padraig. He was about twenty years younger, and looked very hippy-ish. I found it quite amusing.
While we were having tea, Kathleen came to my door asking who Nainsi was. She didn't want to come in when I invited her in to meet Nainsi, and she left very quickly. A bit of a mystery surrounds Eileen McGuire I think. After having some tea, I took Nainsi down to the pub to find Padraig, who also looked shocked when he first saw her. The resemblance between the sisters must be very strong.
Tonight the day finished in an extremely annoying way. Some idiot, trying
to get back at Brian Quigley for not fixing his roof, put a sprinkler on
inside my house. Now the carpet and chairs are all soaking wet, and its
pouring rain outside. Brian hasn't been seen for a few days. Niamh doesn't
know where he is, and I can't wait to get my hands on him.
This was quite a shock to Nainsi. Michael could shed no light on who her father might be, except that Eileen had told him that the baby's father was someone 'who was already spoken for'. Padraig and Nainsi asked Michael to run a blood test, because at the time Padraig had taken Eileen out, he was engaged to someone else. Michael told them that the test cannot prove paternity, but it can disprove it.
Siobhan also came and saw me today with a different problem. She's found out that much to her surprise, her single dalliance one night with Brendan a few months ago has led to her becoming pregnant. Being single and over forty, she was doubting her ability to raise this child.
I tried to reassure her that she'd make an excellent mother.
"From where I'm standing," I told her, "I see a level-headed woman,
with a lot of experience, a good job, and a kind heart." She was feeling
unsure, because she'd accepted that her chance of ever having a child had
passed long ago.
I pointed out to her that it was an opportunity not granted to everyone, and I sadly thought of my own situation. It's only since coming to BallyK, that I've realised how by being a priest, I was missing out on some of life's richest experiences. I asked Siobhan how the baby's father fitted in to the picture, but she said that she wasn't ready to talk to him just yet.
Later on this evening Siobhan told me that she'd decided to keep the baby, so that's great news. I don't know what Kathleen and her cronies will say, but I think it is really great news. This little baby is going to have a very caring and devoted mother, and hopefully father too.
I've left my most worrying experience last to write about, because I'm not really sure what it means or what I can do about it. Leo and Assumpta were babysitting Kieran tonight, so they were taking turns holding Kieran and tending the bar. Not long after I arrived, Assumpta was busy looking after customers, and Leo (who obviously knows very little about babies) was having trouble soothing Kieran, who's teething at present. So I was sent in by Assumpta to rescue Leo.
Kieran seemed to relax the moment he was in my arms, and he settled almost immediately. This was quite embarrassing, and probably annoyed Leo. He turned and asked me if he was 'on a hiding to nothing'? I hadn't heard him properly, so Leo repeated his question. I heard him the second time, but didn't know what he meant, and I looked at him blankly. Leo was now very annoyed, and he suggested that unless I said otherwise, he was 'on a hiding to nothing'.
I didn't know how to respond to this, and Leo stormed out. I felt disconcerted when I began to comprehend that Leo was accusing me of coming between him and his wife. I held Kieran closely against me for comfort, as Leo's accusation began to sink in. I felt even worse when I recognised that there might be some truth in it, even though it hadn't been my intention.
Assumpta must have sensed something was wrong, and came in to the kitchen. Seeing Kieran snuggled asleep in my arms she declared happily that I was a natural. From the expression on my face, and my lack of response, she must have guessed that Leo and I had had some sort of conversation that had upset us both, so she discretely withdrew back to the bar. When I'd composed myself, and managed to get my emotions under control, I settled Kieran comfortably into his pram and left the pub quietly by the back door.
Even though I've tried to stay away from the pub as much as possible since Assumpta returned with Leo, it's clear that all's not well with their relationship. I've heard Leo joking about BallyK, saying how small and insular it is, and how Dublin is more lively and cosmopolitan. I've seen the hurt on Assumpta's face when he's said these things. Leo's been going for long walks alone at night, and Assumpta was obviously out walking alone at night when she came to see me in the church only just over a week ago. I've noticed on some nights when I couldn't sleep, and I've gone for a walk, that there were lights on upstairs in the residential part Fitzgerald's in the early hours of the morning.
After I left the pub I went into the quietness of the church to pray
and seek guidance about this latest twist in my relationship with Assumpta.
While I was there, Kathleen came in. She was agitated, and insisted I hear
her confession right away.
She confessed that she'd interfered in someone else's relationship;
having come between two people who were in love. She said that what she
did was right, but she obviously felt guilty about it now. I had a feeling
that one of the people might have been Eileen McGuire, but was the other
person Padraig? He'd given me the impression that his relationship with
Eileen had not been very close. Actually consisting of only night together,
after hitch-hiking back from a musical concert in Dublin, and being caught
in a rain storm on the way home. They'd sheltered the night in a hayshed.
Nainsi left BallyK this afternoon. Fr. Mac gave her his framed photo of a group of parishioners that included Fr. Mac and Eileen. I watched the two of them from a distance. There's not a great deal of resemblance, but my instinct tells me that they are probably father and daughter, and that Fr. Mac has guessed this. I'm sure that if I was in that position, I couldn't just let her go. I'd be proud to acknowledge her as my daughter, and I'd want her to know the full story.
After Nainsi had gone, Naimh came up to inform me that Leo has left BallyK, (and left Assumpta, I suppose). She asked me to look after Kieran while she went to talk to Assumpta. Better her than me under the circumstances I think.
When she came back she was very angry. She felt that Assumpta didn't seem to be at all upset at Leo leaving. She accused Assumpta of not making any effort to hold onto Leo, and of not even discussing with him what was wrong. Niamh said that all she was able to do, was persuade Assumpta to go to Dublin to at least have an honest discussion with Leo.
I feel so guilty, it's all my fault I think. I was agonising about what
I should do, and wondering what else I could have done to prevent it, when
I got Steve's phone call. Mum's really sick and has been put into hospital.
I've arranged to drive to Dublin tomorrow morning, and leave my car with
some of Niamh's friends. I'll fly straight to Manchester, and I should
be there before midday. I'm going to stop writing now and pack a few things.
At least it solves my dilemma about what to do concerning other aspects
of my life here. Getting out of BallyK for awhile is probably the best
way for some things to resolve themselves.