The pain was too great. He didn't feel the cold. He had nearly forgotten who he was. He sat beside her. The white sheet covered her up to her face, emphasizing the whiteness of her skin. Her beautiful eyes were closed. He could barely look at
her. Was it possible for a human being to feel such pain and not die. Maybe he could die too. How could God have let this happen? Didn't He know how much he loved her? "Oh, Assumpta, how could you leave me?"

    He put his face in his hands. When would this wretched life be over? Was it just a few hours ago that he had told her that he loved her? He knew she loved him too. She hadn't told him, but he knew anyway. He turned toward her. He touched her cold face. "I love you, Assumpta," he whispered, the tears once again flowing down his face.

    The sound of footsteps echoed down the quiet hallway. The doctor came in. He walked up to Peter and put his hand on
his shoulder. "Son, you should go home and get some sleep." Peter didn't answer. He wasn't aware that the doctor had said anything. "Father," the doctor said. "Father." Peter turned and looked up at the doctor.

    "Son, you need some rest. It's cold in here. You've been here nearly 24 hours. You've got to go home."

    "I.. I can't," Peter stammered. "I can't leave her," he said, putting his face in his hands once again.

    "There's nothing you can do here," he said. "Maybe someone will need you back home."

    Home. Where was that? Ballykissangel? Without Assumpta? He didn't think so.

    "Go home, son," said the doctor. "She will be here until tomorrow."

    "Then what?" said Peter, looking intently at the doctor.

    "Then we will make whatever arrangements her husband agrees upon, if we can locate him. Do you know him?"

    "Yes,...I do," answered Peter.

    "Has anyone let him know?" he asked.

    "I..I don't know," said Peter, trying to collect his thoughts.

    He got up. He turned to look down at her. So quiet. So still. He had just held her in his arms. He had just kissed the top of her head. She was so warm and soft and her scent lingered in his memory. He leaned down and kissed her face. "I love you," he whispered.

    Peter walked down the road. He couldn't take the car home. He had to walk. How many times had he been down that
beautiful road? He remembered the first time he had seen her. She had picked him up in her van. He was walking in the rain, trying to get to Ballykissangel. "Would you like a lift," she had said. The tears fell. He hardly noticed them.

    He had relived every moment with her. The sound of her voice. Her dark hair framing her face. The sparkle in her eyes. Even when she was telling him to mind his own business, he had adored her.

    Peter realized that he had walked to the lake. The very lake where he had told her how he felt about her. The very lake where she had said, "do you think I would have married Leo, if I had known how you felt?" He heard her voice, echoing in his memory. He walked along the sand. He looked at the crystal clear lake, with the white clouds reflected in it, as if they were floating on the surface. He wished that he was at the bottom of it.

    The doctor walked down the quiet hall. He glanced into the room where the priest had been. He certainly had taken that girl's
death, extremely hard. He glanced over at her body. It seemed strange for a priest to be that distraught. They deal with death almost as often as a doctor.

    He walked over to the window. He was used to death. It didn't seem to affect him like it did when he first became a doctor. He
guessed that you could get used to anything. He straightened and smoothed the sheet. Too bad, he thought.

    "I love you," he had said.

    "Would you take that thing off before you say things like that," she replied.

    "I can't help it."

    "I know," she smiled.

    That was just before that terrible moment. He couldn't bring himself to relive what came after. "Please, God. Let me die too," he said out loud.

    The doctor turned just as a man came into the room. He walked up to her. "Oh, God, Assumpta," he said, sitting
down in the chair. "How could this have happened?"

    The doctor came up to him. "Who are you?" he asked.

    Leo looked up at him. "I am her husband," he said

    "I'm sorry, Mr. McGarvey," said the doctor. "We tried to locate you, yesterday, to identify the body. But the priest
did."

    "The priest did?" asked Leo.

    "Yes, he left a little while ago. I must say, he was here for a long time. Nearly 24 hours."

    Peter walked along the road. The sun was going down. He didn't notice. One foot in front of the other, like some strange habit in some hideous awareness. As he approached Ballykissangel, he saw the grotto.

    He went over to it. He remembered meeting Assumpta there by accident. That was when he told her about Father Mac sending him home. Her first reaction was panic. He didn't know it then, but he knew it now. He had gone over and over everything. He stood in front of the Blessed Virgin. He fell to his knees. He couldn't pray. The tears fell down his face untouched.

    "Well, how touching." Leo sauntered into the grotto. "My wife upset you, you know, her dying and all?" his anger barely disguised.

    Peter just stared at the statue.

    "Is this where you brought her?" Leo walked over to him and struck him in the face.

    Peter wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

    "I never brought her here, Leo. We met here once, by accident." Peter had no energy for this.

    Leo hit him again. He could see that he was getting no response.

    "What did you do? Take her behind the statue??? "

    Peter got up and before he realized anything, he hit Leo in the mouth. Down he went and didn't move. At that moment,
Peter heard someone shout.

    "Stop," Niamh yelled. "Are you trying to kill him?"

    Peter came to his senses. His knuckles were bloody. Niamh was holding Leo's head and patting his face.

    "I'm ok, Niamh," Leo said, starting to get up.

    "It's ok, Niamh," Peter said. "Go back to the car...it's ok, I promise."

    She looked from Peter to Leo and back again. Slowly she turned and left.

    Leo turned to Peter. "I want you to tell me the truth."

    "I'll try," said Peter, wiping the blood from his mouth.

    "Did you love her?"

    Peter looked down and then back up at Leo. "Yes."

    "Did she love you?"

    "....Yes, I think she did."

    "And when she married me?" asked Leo.

    "I don't know, Leo, she never said."

    The doctor turned the lights in the hall off. Carefully he checked each of the rooms. As he walked passed the room that the girl was in, he could feel the emotion coming from it. He had never experienced that before. He had seen families in grief. He had seen people mourn. But there was something about this. He didn't know what it was. As he walked into the room, he glanced at her. She was very beautiful. The skin on her arm was smooth and white. He walked over and took the sheet out from under her arm and laid it on her chest again. He turned and walked away, shaking his head.

    Again! He had straightened the covers on her once before. He turned around and walked over to her. He felt her neck. He couldn't tell. He rushed out of the room.

    He returned with a stethoscope and threw the sheet on the floor. He listened very carefully in several places. "Oh God!" She had a heartbeat. It was faint, but it was there.

2

    Leo's car sped off, leaving dust and rocks flying. He knew now that his marriage would never have worked. She had
loved the priest. God, he had never had a chance. Why had she married him? He should have known. He thought there might be someone else when she refused to come with him, when he had surprised her with a visit after Bertie O'Doyle's funeral. She seemed so distant. He hadn't come back after that. Well, he had been busy. He didn't see her until that chance meeting in
London. He remembered the greeting they got when they came back. The priest had congratulated him.

    He remembered how she avoided talking to Father Clifford. If he came in to the pub, sometimes she would just disappear into the kitchen. How curious that he really hadn't noticed. Then there was the night that he was coming back from a walk and he saw her come out of the church. He saw her face very clearly. Tears and pain! He then saw Peter come out and look for her. Boy
had he been blind.

    When Peter had come into the kitchen to take Kieran from him, he did see it then. Not that he thought that there was anything going on between them. But he could feel the emotional connection between them that he and Assumpta had never had. He didn't
want anything to do with this funeral. She loved him, let him take care of it. The tears rolled down his face. God, he couldn't believe that she was gone.

    Peter watched him drive off. He felt his mouth. He felt his beard of two days vintage. He didn't care. He walked out on
to the road. He heard the thick sound of a car door closing.

    "Father," said Niamh. "Father, come here."

    Peter turned around to see Niamh's green car parked along the side of the road. Her eyes were swollen and red. She walked up to him and put her arms around him. "I'm so sorry, Peter."

    Sympathy was something he couldn't deal with right now. The tears burst forth and he sobbed onto Niamh's shoulder. They
both cried.

    "This is Dr. Monroe, from Cilldargan. Yes. We need an ambulance immediately. We have a woman who has suffered an
electric shock and we considered her dead until just a short while ago, when I found a pulse. No, we didn't do brain waves. She seems to be in a deep coma. Her vitals are weak. All I can find are these erratic heartbeats. We've got her on IV's, and we need an ambulance STAT. We have to get her to Dublin." He hung up the phone.

    He sat at the desk. On a half of a piece of note paper he wrote, Con: The McGarvey woman was found to have a heart beat. We have sent her to Dublin by ambulance. Call Michael Ryan and let him know...

    He needed a new piece of paper. He continued: get in touch with Fitzgerald's in Ballykissangel and see if the McGarvey woman had any next of kin besides her husband. He was in and out so fast and didn't leave a phone number. Call the Parish of
St. Joseph's and get in touch with the priest and tell him. I am leaving at 6:00 for the convention. It should be over on the 26th. If you need me, call me at the convention center. Ask Mary what the number is.

    He set the pieces of paper on Con's desk. What a strange day!!

    Niamh shut the door to the apartment. Peter followed her down the hall. She opened the bedroom door. "You need a
shower and some food, and then some sleep."

    "I can't sleep," he said.

    "You have to," she said, pointing to the shower. "I'll go over to the church and get you some clothes. Until then,
there is a bathrobe of Ambroses' hanging behind the door. I'll be right back."

    Niamh knocked slightly on the door. No answer. "Peter," she called, opening the door. She saw him sitting in the chair
looking out of the window. He could see Fitzgerald's across the street. "Peter," Niamh said. Still no answer. Niamh walked closer to him.

    "Did you ever see the film, "One Against the Wind'?" he asked, still staring out the window.

    "I.I don't think so," she said, wondering what he was talking about.

    "Well, there was this woman who lived in Paris, during the Nazi Occupation. She spent much of the war helping British
flyers get back across the border after they had been shot down. One night she was talking to a British Officer and she said "In
the last war I nursed a boy who had lost both of his legs, and he would only sleep if given medication. We all thought that he was
afraid of dying while he slept. So I told him there was no danger of that...He said it wasn't that at all...It was the waking up he
couldn't bear..."

    Niamh knelt beside him and put her arms around him. They both cried.

    Ambrose opened the door to Fitzgeralds. It was dark inside. He heard the whining. They had all forgotten about Fionn. "Come on, boy," he said, taking his lead and closing the kitchen door. As he stepped outside, he met Padraig.

    "Padraig," he said, nodding.

    "Hello, Ambrose."

    "Town is kind of quiet, yeah."

    "Yeah," he said, nodding his head.

    "Leo, was here," said Ambrose.

    "Yeah, I saw him."

    "You want me to take Fionn?" asked Padraig. "He's used to Kevin."

    "Yeah, thanks," said Ambrose. He locked the door to Fitzgeralds.

    Padraig looked at the door. He wiped his eyes. Ambrose patted him on the back.

    "Let me know about the funeral," said Padraig.

    "I will," answered Ambrose.

    The hospital in Dublin was busy. The aide got out of the ambulance first. "This is the one that was electrocuted."

    "What's the name?" asked the doctor.

    "Assumpta McGarvey. We thought she was dead for over 24 hours," he said, by way of explanation.

    The doctor just shook her head.

    "Take this one up to ICU, STAT," she ordered.

    "Where's the family?" she asked.

    "I guess the husband came to see her when they thought she was dead. He took off and didn't leave his address or phone
number. I guess they were separated," the aide commented.

    "No other family?" she asked.

    "Guess not."

    He was finally asleep. Niamh shut the door quietly. He had wanted her to talk to him about Assumpta. She remembered out loud when they were children. The years of growing up. The loves and the laughter. And the fights. Niamh cried, remembering.
Assumpta was her best friend. How would she live without her?

    Ambrose came in. "Where is Kieran?" he asked, setting his hat on the table, and hanging up the keys.

    "Asleep," she said.

    "And Peter?"

    "Asleep, also. Finally," she added.

    Ambrose put his arms around her. He knew she needed comforting. He didn't say anything. What could he say? The whole town was like this. Everyone needing comforting. When he had stopped at Siobhan's to drop off the magazine Kathleen had
sent to her, her eyes were red from crying. Brendan was in the kitchen, drinking.

    Peter sat up. It was dark. Where was he? The pain, like a giant vise, gripped him as he remembered. He got up and turned on the light. There were his clothes. He grabbed some trousers and a shirt. Put on his socks and shoes and closed the door quietly. In the kitchen he reached for the keys.

    Quietly he shut the outside door. The street was wet. The reflected light from the small street lamp shimmered on the black street. The air was cold and still. Peter walked across the street to Fitzgerald's. He tried several of the keys until he found the right one. Slowly the door opened. Peter walked in. The dim light of the neon signs gave everything a ghostly appearance. He
could hear the drip of the tap. Oh God, had he ever heard such a sad sound?? He slowly walked into the kitchen. Everything was
just as it was left. Food still hadn't been cleared away. Someone must have come and fixed the fuse downstairs, because the signs were lighted. He started clearing up. He didn't know why. Maybe just to keep himself busy. Maybe he felt that Assumpta would have hated for the pub to be left this way.

    The phone was ringing. The young man came down the hall and into the office. "Con McGuire here," he said, slightly out
of breath. "No, Doc. Monroe has already left for the conference. Okay, I'll leave him a message." He hung up the phone. He reached across the desk for a pen. He didn't see the small piece of paper float slowly into the wastebasket. "Let's see.." he wrote out the message.

    He picked up the paper. Doc. Monroe's handwriting. "Get in touch with Fitzgerald's in Ballykissangel and see if the McGarvey woman had any next of kin besides her husband. He was in and out so fast and didn't leave a phone number. Call the Parish of St. Joseph's and get in touch with the priest and tell him. I am leaving at 6:00 for the convention. It should be over on the 26th. If you need me, call me at the convention center. Ask Mary what the number is.

    "Get in touch with the priest and tell him what?"

3
 

    The heartbeat on the monitor was strong. Dr. Anne Blake smiled to her self. I think we will save this one. Seems strange that one so young would have no family. An estranged husband. Poor girl. Who knew what that story was. Her vitals were improving. She, of course, was not awake. The coma was very deep. She may not ever come out of it. Her skin was pink instead of the
bluish hue she had when she came in. The doctor picked up the chart and read for a minute. She patted the woman's hand and left.

    Father Mac opened the door to the pub. Father Clifford wasn't at home. His next guess is that he would be here, judging from the revelation given him before the accident. "Father Clifford," he called. He heard some noise in the kitchen. As he opened the door he saw Peter stacking some boxes in the corner.

    "Father Clifford," he repeated.

    Peter turned around. "Yes," he said.

    Father Mac noticed his appearance. "You look terrible," he said, critically.

    Peter didn't comment. "What can I do for you, Father?" Peter asked.

    "Kieran Egan's christening is on Saturday, Father. I am just making sure that you will be fulfilling your responsibilities.

    Peter could hardly believe what he was hearing. "Father..I'm not going to discuss this right now."

    "We need to discuss it right now," Father Mac said, getting a little irritated.

    Peter looked at him. "Father, less than three days ago, I was going to marry Assumpta Fitzgerald. She is dead,
Father, and I am not going to make any decisions at this point."

    "Well, when can we expect to know what your decision is?" Father Mac asked, getting a little red in the face.

    "I will talk to Niamh, today, and let you know," Peter said. "As for anything after the christening, don't count on it."

    Father Mac turned and walked out of the door. Peter stared after him. He went in and sat down by the fireplace. He
closed his eyes. Everything about this place reminded him of her. Her scent was here. Her handwriting was everywhere.

    The phone rang. Peter walked over to it. "Fitzgerald's" he said.

    "Hello," said a voice. "This is Con McGuire, Doctor Monroe's assistant."

    "Yes?" said Peter.

    "Dr. Monroe wanted me to call and find out if Mrs. McGarvey had any other relatives, besides her husband."

    Peter tried to think. "No, I don't think she did. Her parents are gone and I know she didn't have any brothers and sisters."

    "Thank you, then," said the man.

    Peter put the phone down. He picked up a pad of paper with her handwriting on it. Several phone numbers and something
scrawled in the corner. He looked closely. 'I love him,' was written in Assumpta's handwriting. He tore the page from the pad, and
reread it.
 
    He walked to the bottom of the stairs. Slowly he climbed up the stairs. Everything was so strangely quiet. He came to her room. He needed to be near her. He went in.

    He stood there, looking at everything. There were two shirts on the bed that she had taken out of the closet and laid down, probably trying to decide which one to wear. He picked one up and held it to him. He could smell her perfume on it. The tears
came again. "Assumpta....." How in God's name was he going to be able to go through the rest of his life?

    He heard the pub door close. He walked down the stairs. Padraig was standing there. "Father," he said.

    "Hi Padraig."

    "Father, did you know that Leo must have taken her body away?"

    "What?"

    "I went over to see her this morning and she wasn't there. So I asked one of the nurses and she said that she thought her husband had taken her."

    "He took her?" Peter sat down. "That means that we won't have the funeral here." He didn't know how much more he could take.

    Padraig left. Peter sat staring out of the window. He would stay here and take care of the pub, until the counsel decided what they would do about it. What he would do then,...he couldn't think.

    "Let's see, what else was I supposed to do." Con McGuire tapped on the desk with his pen. He looked down and picked up the list from the waste basket. This wasn't it. He looked again. Dr. Monroe's handwriting. 'Con,' it started out. He hadn't seen this one yet. 'the McGarvey woman was found to have a heartbeat. We have sent her to Dublin by ambulance..Oh God, where was the other paper. He rummaged around on his desk. There it was. He picked it up. 'Get in touch with Fitzgerald's in Ballykissangel and see if the McGarvey woman had any next of kin besides her husband. He was in and out so fast and didn't leave a phone number. Call the parish at St. Joseph's and get in touch with the priest and tell him...'

    "Let's see, what was his name?"..Carter?..Clifford? Clifford!!! He picked up the phone. He waited. No answer. He dialed again. A voice said ..

    "Fitzgeralds...This is Peter Clifford...Yeah, I AM Father Clifford...Yeah, that was me...What!!..What!!!..but..." His head was reeling. "What?....wait, say that again."

    Oh, God, was that possible? "Where?" Oh, God.

    Peter grabbed his jacket. He ran across the street. He didn't knock, but just opened the door and ran in.

    Peter and Niamh came running out. They got into her car. "Tell me what he said," she demanded.

    "I told you. She is in Dublin."

    Niamh parked the car. They both jumped out and ran across the street. Peter was out of breath when he got to the
information desk.

    "Assumpta McGarvey," he said, trying to catch his breath. Niamh ran in behind him. "Is she here?" she asked him.

    "I don't know yet."

    The lady at the desk said "Here she is. Second floor, ICU."

    Peter turned and ran down the hall, frantically looking for an elevator. He came to a sign that said 'STAIRS'. Niamh,
following closely behind him barely got there before the door closed. He took the stairs two at a time, and burst through the
second floor door, followed by Niamh, breathing heavily. The arrow pointed left. He ran. When they finally came to the floor desk,
they were both out of breath.

    "Assumpta McGarvey," he said, trying to breathe and speak at the same time. Dr. Blake turned from her charts to look. The
desk nurse said "Are you family?"

    Peter and Niamh looked at each other.

    Dr. Blake walked over to the nurse and whispered something to her.

    "Come this way," she said.

    They walked through the ICU door. It was empty except for one cubicle with a man on a respirator. At the end, a curtain was drawn. The nurse drew aside the curtain and motioned for them to come in.

    Peter was almost afraid to look, for fear that it wouldn't be her. The palms of his hands were sweating and his heart was pounding. Niamh was the first to see her.

    "O God, Assumpta," she cried. She leaned close, the tears were falling down her cheeks. "Assumpta," was all she could
say.

    Peter looked up at her face, half expecting to see someone else. O God, it was her. It was her...... He moved to her side opposite Niamh. He touched her hand. There were so many tubes and cords. All he saw was her beautiful face. A face that
he never thought he would ever see again. She was quiet and still, but her skin was warm. The doctor appeared at his side.

    "I think you had better sit down," she said, moving a chair for him. He couldn't speak. He slowly sat down beside her.
Maybe this was a dream. NO. It was too real.

    "Are you friends of hers?" asked the Doctor.

    "Yes," said Niamh.

    Peter said nothing. He just held her hand.

    "Can I get some information?" Dr. Blake said, looking at Peter.

    Niamh looked up and nodded, moving away from the bed and leaving Peter with Assumpta.

    He still couldn't believe it. She was here. She was alive. The tears started. "I love you" he whispered. He rubbed her arm, while the tears coursed down his face.

    "Is that her husband?" the doctor asked.

    "No," said Niamh. "He's her friend."

    "She is in a deep coma, and there is no guarantee that she will ever come out of it. I just wanted you to know that," she said, sympathetically.

    Niamh just nodded.

    Niamh looked over at Peter. His face was on the pillow beside her head. His hand held hers. She understood.

4

    Niamh parked the car in front of the pub. She opened the unlocked door. It was so good to be back. She felt as though she had been gone for weeks, instead of days. She wondered if Kieran would even remember her. She would come back to this later.
Right now she needed to go home.

    Peter sat beside the bed. The nurse finished changing the IV and smiled at him. He smiled back. Never, never in his life had he been so happy. It was like waking up from a horrible nightmare. After this he could face anything. It was interesting how this had put everything into perspective. Assumpta, he knew, may never regain consciousness. He would do everything he could, for the rest of his life, to make her life comfortable, no matter what. He slid his hand down her arm and whispered "I love you." He said that about a thousand times a day. He would never stop saying it. He talked to her constantly. He touched her face and kissed her cheek. The doctor finally had moved her from intensive care to a room on the 3rd floor. And after finding Peter sleeping on the
cold floor by her bed, ordered a cot to be brought in. She didn't mind having Peter there. He was better than having a nurse on duty twenty-four hours a day, and besides, it was obvious that he loved her. What better medicine, she couldn't imagine. She did have moments of curiosity, because she knew he was a priest, but she never asked.

    Doc Ryan walked in. "Hi, Peter," he said, setting a box down on the cot.

    "Hiya, Michael," said Peter.

    "I brought the rest of your clothes. Niamh washed and ironed them."

    "Thanks," said Peter, smiling.

    "So, how's the patient today?" he asked, patting Assumpta    on the shoulder.

    "Well, I have been talking to her and touching her, because I heard once that a person in a coma can sometimes hear what you are saying and feel, as well."

    Michael looked at him, and shook his head. What a really remarkable man he was.

    "Siobhan and Brendan are coming up Saturday for the christening. I heard that you will be doing it here."

    "Yeah, that's what Niamh and Ambrose want, so we will do it right here, where Assumpta can be with us also."

    "Then what are you going to do?" Michael asked him.

    "I'm going to stay right here with Assumpta," Peter said, patting her hand.

    "I mean, what are you going to do about the priesthood?"

    "The christening will be my last duty. I have already told Father Mac. And eventually I will try to get a job close by. I mean, I will need money soon. The last little while I have been able to think clearly." He smiled.

    "It's good to see you smile again," Michael said.

    "It's good to be able to. God, what a close call that was."

    Michael nodded. "What about the pub?"

    "Niamh is going to run it until we know more about Assumpta's prognosis. Then, I guess it will be easier to make a decision."

    Peter sat on the chair beside Assumpta. He touched her face and brushed some hair away from her eyes. "I love you," he
whispered. Every night when he lay down on his cot, he took out the paper folded in his pocket and read 'I love him.' She had
never told him, but he had known anyway. Still, it was wonderful seeing it written in her own handwriting. "I love you," he
whispered again.

    The nurse walked through the door. "The doctor has decided that you should have the telly turned on. She said that the noise and talking might be good for Mrs. McGarvey."

    Peter hated to hear her called that. But that was her name.

    "OK," he said, walking over and turning it on. He supposed that it wouldn't matter what program was on.

    Peter wondered if anyone had been able to get in touch with Leo. He had no idea where to find him.

    The christening was wonderful. Kieran Peter Egan they had named him. Michael Ryan, Padraig O'Kelly, Siobhan and Brendan, Brian, Liam and Donal had come to see the christening. Even Dr. Blake and several of the nurses had attended. Everyone was so glad to see Assumpta. They all talked to her and touched her hands. Afterward Peter gave Niamh and Ambrose all of his vestments and other things to take back to Father Mac. Father Mac hadn't come.

    "Has anyone been able to find Leo?" asked Peter, folding up some things and handing them to Niamh.

    "I called his apartment and some girl answered," said Niamh. "I didn't ask who she was, but she said that she thought he had taken a job as a correspondent covering the war in Yugoslavia. She didn't have any idea where he was going to be located. I left a
message for him to call me if she heard from him."

    It suddenly hit him, how alone in the world Assumpta had been. Oh yeah, she had friends, but people can be really alone without family. He had plenty of family. Brothers and a sister. Several cousins. An old aunt. He intended to be her family.

    Everyone was gone. The room was quiet. He had some time to think. He wasn't a priest any longer. What was he? Being a
priest was his identity. He really felt at loose ends. But he understood why. This was a transition and he was expecting to feel confused. He prayed. Always he prayed. He prayed for Assumpta every night. He prayed that he would be able to know what to do for her. He had thanked God over and over again for sparing her. No matter what happened now, he knew that he belonged with her. Until the day he died, he would stay with her.

    The pub was sparkling clean. Niamh had worked for days. She was going to open tomorrow. She was putting a coat of polish
on the bar. The pub door opened.

    "Tomorrow?" asked Brendan.

    "Tomorrow," replied Niamh.

    "Not just a small one today?"

    "Tomorrow," she said.

    "Oh, alright," she said, seeing the tortured look on his face.

    He sat down at the bar. "It will be so good to be able to sit here again."

    The door opened. "I saw your bike," said Padraig, sitting down.

    Niamh put her hands on her hips. "Tomorrow," she said, staring at Padraig.

    "Oh, come on, Niamh, we haven't been able to sit here since the food fair," Padraig said.

    "What do you want?" she said, resignedly.

    "Two pints," said Brendan.

    The door opened. Eamonn came in. "Niamh, can you tell me when Assumpta is coming back?"

    "No, Eamonn, I don't know. She is still unconscious."

    Eamonn shook his head. "I'll have a diet cola, please Niamh."

    Niamh reached over and turned on the telly. Maybe they could get that Italian soap opera again.

    Siobhan walked in. Niamh took a deep breath. "What is everyone doing here? How is Assumpta?"

    Niamh looked at Siobhan. "It's obvious that they don't have homes to go to, and Assumpta is the same."

    Liam and Donal walked in. "Two pints, Niamh," Donal said, as Liam sat down at the table. Niamh brought the drinks and
looked around. This was how it was meant to be. This was the beating heart of Ballykissangel. She was glad that she could do her part.

    "To Assumpta, may she get well fast," said Brendan. "To Assumpta," said everyone.

5

    He walked up the stairs. He needed the exercise. All that sitting.. Another day of job hunting. Well, what do I say. "I live at the hospital?" Oh, well. Whatever will be, will be. He opened the door to the 3rd floor. Walked down the familiar halls and past the desk.

    "Hi, Peter," said the nurse.

    "Hi, Trudy," he said, with a wave. Boy, he was really tired. He walked into the room. He never got tired of walking into that room and seeing her there. He would never get tired of that. He walked over to her. She was, of course, sleeping. But she was starting to move around a bit. The doctor seemed to think that she was making some progress. He leaned over the bed and placed a kiss on her cheek. Then he kissed the other cheek. "I love you," he said, as he always did. He let his hand slide down the side of her face. The telly was on. Some lame soap opera. Oh, well. It was something for her to listen to when he wasn't there. Well, he was there now. He walked over to it and snapped it off. The doctor walked in.

    "Hi, Peter, how was job hunting?" she asked, reaching down to check the chart.

    "Hello, Anne. Kind of disappointing," he said, sitting down on his cot.

    "You know, I have been thinking... she is very stable now, and although she hasn't regained consciousness yet, I'm wondering if you would want to take her home?"

    "What?...Take her home?" he stammered.

    "Yes, what do you think?"

    "That would be great?......Wouldn't she need......?"

    "Well, I would arrange to have a doctor come in several times a week, and also have someone come and see to her IV's and her general care...but other than that, you can do it."

    "When could I........"

    "Well, I thought, if you were willing to, perhaps next week."

    "Oh, that would be great. I think if she were in her own surroundings, she may do even better," he said, excitedly.

    "Well, that's what I thought, and as long as she is physically strong, I think it would be a good idea."

    Peter was already on the phone, dialing Niamh.

    "Fitzgerald's."

    "Niamh, is that you."

    "Yeah, Peter, is everything ok?"

    "I'll say. The doctor says I can bring her home next week."

    "What? Oh God, do you think you would be able to handle it."

    "Of course, I take care of her now almost totally."

    "But what about the IV's?"

    "We'll arrange that before we get there. Don't worry."

    "Assumpta's coming home," she shouted to the others. Peter could hear the clapping and the hurrah's.

    The phone rang. Peter picked it up. "Hello....Hiya, William....Fine. How about you?...Thanks for the card. I appreciated it....Well, I got some good news today. The doctor says I can take Assumpta home next week....No, I haven't had much luck finding a job here, anyway....I've only been out a few times....I don't know. I guess I will take care of the pub....Yeah, well tell everyone, will you?...Thanks for calling."

    He put the phone down, and went over to Assumpta. "Did you hear that, sweetheart? We're going home next week." He
stroked her face and kissed her cheek. How he loved her.

    Dr. Blake came in. "You know, Peter, someday I would like to hear the story."

    "Sorry?"

    "The story.... of you and Assumpta? I am very intrigued."

    He didn't say anything. It WAS quite a story. "It's kind of a long story. About three years long," he said, smiling.

    "Well, I'm off duty now, so maybe you could start it?"

    "Well," Peter said.....

    Anne Blake sat still, looking at Peter. She had never heard anything like it. What a remarkable story. Her eyes had filled with tears, more than once.

    "And so I got a call from the doctor's assistant telling me that she was alive. At first I couldn't believe it. In fact, I didn't believe it until I saw her face." He could barely talk about it without feeling that incredible emotion, causing his voice to break up. "But God has been so good to us, and now we are going home."

    Dr. Blake shook her head. She had seen and read many love stories, but she had never heard anything like this. Nor
had she ever witnessed this love and devotion that she had seen.

    "Peter," she said, I'm grateful that you were willing to share that story with me. I feel privileged."

    "Anne, without you, none of this would have been possible," he said, with tears in his eyes.

    She would be home tomorrow. Niamh had cleaned all of the rooms and gotten everything ready. This will be so good for her. To be in her own home.

    Ambrose was in the pub watching the telly. Kieran was sitting in his pram. "I'll be glad when Peter gets here," he said, absently,
trying to talk and watch the show.

    "I will too." Niamh put the clean glasses in the cupboard under the bar.

    "Do you think she will ever get well?" Ambrose asked.

    "I pray every night, and light candles everyday," she said.

    Niamh went back into the kitchen to get the rest of the glasses for the bar. The last month and a half had been incredible.

    "Niamh," Ambrose called excitedly. "Niamh!!!"

    "What," she came rushing out, thinking something had happened to Kieran.

    Ambrose was staring at the television. Someone was talking about the war in Yugoslavia. News. Something about a helicopter down somewhere.

    "What?" Niamh said, irritatedly.

    "I think they mentioned Leo McGarvey," said Ambrose, still trying to listen.

    Nich nicer trip this time. Sometimes he could feel her hand tighten in his. There was a new priest at St. Joseph's. A Father O'Connell. Peter hoped he would be a good priest. He had seen plenty of the other kind.

    The ambulance parked in front of Fitzgerald's. Niamh, Brendan, Padraig and Doc Ryan were there to greet Peter. The handshaking and back patting taken care of, Doc Ryan spoke to the driver and the attendant. They carried the stretcher up the stairs and Peter lifted Assumpta off of the cart and into her own bed.

    Niamh sat by her on the bed, touching her face and her arms. "Assumpta, you're home," she kept repeating.

    Brendan and Padraig came upstairs and each in turn touched her and told her that they were glad she was home. Peter had told them that it was very important that they talk to her and touch her. Doc Ryan told Peter that Dr. Blake had contacted him and that he would come every day and make sure everything was fine.

    Niamh took Peter aside and told him what she had heard about Leo. "Are you sure it was him?" Peter asked.

    "No, I only heard a little bit of it, but Ambrose said he heard him say Leo McGarvey. Peter shook his head. "God, life is full of tragedy."

    Niamh said that she would be back in the morning to take care of Assumpta. Peter, she said, was relegated to the pub, except at night, when he needed to be near her.

    The pub was dark and quiet. This was the first night home. He was so glad to be there. He had made a bed for himself on the floor in Assumpta's room. The nurse would be there first thing in the morning, to change her IV's. He knelt at her bedside. He put his arms around her. He kissed her face and whispered "I love you," as he did every night. Then he felt her hand touch his face. He was startled. Her eyes were closed but her hand was resting on his face. He took her hand in his and kissed it and laid it down across her stomach. He took a deep breath. She had never done that before. He pushed his bed closer to her's.

    So many thoughts running through his head. How much his life had changed. He hoped and prayed with all of his heart
that she would regain consciousness. But even if she didn't, he was so very grateful that she was alive.

    "Leo!!!!"

    Peter sat up. "What?"......

    He looked at Assumpta. She was sitting up. "Leo!" she cried.

    Peter jumped up and went over to her.

    "Assumpta," he knelt next to her bed and put his arms around her.

    "Assumpta," he said.

    "Oh, Peter, is that you?" The moonlight shone through the window.

    "Yes, sweetheart, it's me," he said, his heart pounding.

    "What a strange dream!" she said, lying back down.

    The sound of her voice was like heaven to him.

    "What dream?" he asked.

    She paused for a moment. ... "I was in this deep forest. It was very quiet and very beautiful. I walked for a long time. Let's see...I remember seeing quite a few people...I don't remember now who.....But I remember hearing your voice talking to me...."

    "What did I say?"

    "You said, 'I love you'.

    He put his hand on the side of her face and kissed her cheek.

    "I remember that I wanted to go home, but I couldn't find it. So I just kept walking ...and then Leo was there. He told me that I needed to go home, but I told him I couldn't find it. So he took my hand and told me he would show me. I told him I was sorry
about our marriage, and he said..... 'you can't help who you love.' So we walked for a ways... and then he said there it is.....and I looked and there was the pub. As I turned back to thank him, he was gone..."

    "Peter, where am I. What has happened?"

    "Oh, God, Assumpta, what do you remember last?"

    "We were walking by the Angel, you and me. You had told me you loved me. I wanted to tell you that I loved you too, but I just couldn't say it. You, know, I thought about that, when I was walking in the forest..I kept wishing that I had told you.

    Peter reached over to his trouser pocket and took out a very wrinkled piece of paper. He unfolded it and said, "You did tell me. I found this piece of paper by your phone and it said, 'I love him' in your handwriting. I read it every night." He was on his knees by her bed. She reached over and touched his face.

    "So what happened to me?" she asked.

    "Maybe you should rest now," he said. "I'll tell you tomorrow."

    "Stay here by me," she whispered.

    "I'll never leave you, Assumpta," he said.

6

    "Oh God, I can't sit here for one more minute," she said.

    "You have to," he said, smiling at her.

    "Peter, I feel fine. Will you stop treating me like an invalid?"

    He stopped clearing the bar and walked over to her chair. He leaned over and took her into his arms and lifted her up.

    "What are you doing?"

    "Well, you said that you couldn't sit there for one more minute.."

    She took a deep breath. "I meant that I couldn't sit anywhere for another minute."

    "I'm so tired of......" He kissed her. And then he kissed her again.

    "Please don't give me a hard time," he said, gently sitting her on a bar stool.

    "Please, please, let me do something," she cried.

    "Okay," he said. "Wait here."

    He returned with a basket of towels. "Fold these," he said.

    She looked at him. If she didn't love him so much, she would throw something at him. She took another deep breath.

    The pub door opened. "Hey girl," said Niamh.

    "Glad you're here, Niamh. Make her stop hassling me, she is doubling my work load," he said, smiling at Assumpta.

    A towel went flying past his head. "See what I mean?"

    "Well, I'm here to take her off of your hands for awhile," Niamh said, walking over to get her jacket.

    Assumpta's eyes brightened. "Where are we going?" she asked.

    "I thought we would go for a short walk."

    "Yes!!" Assumpta said, staring victoriously at Peter.

    "She can't walk far," he said.

    "I know, I know," Niamh remarked.

    Peter helped her on with her jacket. Kissed her softly on her cheek and said, "Behave."

    "He's just like a mother hen," said Assumpta as they closed the door to the pub.

    Niamh laughed.

    The day was so beautiful. The sky was blue with great blobs of white clouds floating in it. Niamh held on to her arm. Her legs were getting stronger every day.

    "I wish he wouldn't baby me so," she said.

    "He almost lost you, Assumpta. You have no idea how much pain he was in," she said, becoming serious. "That was just awful, Assumpta."

    Assumpta looked down. She still couldn't talk about it. She remembered some things. She remembered Leo and the dream, but
Peter was the only one she had ever told about that. It was kind of like a secret between them, although they had never agreed that it should be. Leo had died. She still had a hard time believing it. She had cared a great deal about him. Of course, not in the same way that she cared for Peter. She couldn't even describe that. That wamh. "See," she said.

    Father Aiden's bike hit a rock and it wobbled dangerously.

    "Be careful, Father," yelled Niamh, from across the bridge.

    He just smiled his sheepish smile. "What are you two doing?" he asked, pushing the bike along the side of the bridge.

    "Just out for a walk, Father," said Niamh.

    Assumpta smiled at him. She liked him. Sometimes she couldn't believe herself. She liked one priest and loved another. She really must be crazy. But Aiden had been so kind to her and to Peter, that she couldn't help herself.

    "Just practicing for the marathon, Father," she said.

    Father Aiden looked at her and then realized that she was joking. He laughed. "Well, don't overdo it," he said.

    Assumpta sat up. It was dark and quiet. She hated waking up in the middle of the night. Peter was no longer in her room. She had thrown him out when she began to feel better. Sometimes she wished she hadn't. Of course, this was the only time she could get up and walk around when he wasn't there to tell her to sit down and rest. She got up and slipped on her jeans. She pulled a t-shirt over her head. She still was thin, but with Peter making her eat constantly, she was putting on weight again. She smiled thinking of him. Thinking of how much she loved him. There really weren't any words, just feelings. She went down the stairs,
being careful not to make any noise. She had a lot of energy that he wouldn't let her use up. He was so protective of her. She
put a kettle on. A cup of tea sounded good.

    "What are you doing up?" Peter said, coming sleepily into the kitchen.

    "God, I thought I was being quiet."

    "I heard a stair creak," he smiled.

    "Boy, I can't do anything without getting caught," she said.

    He walked over to her and took her in his arms. He held her tightly and kissed her head. They stood there in each others arms, no words were necessary.

    She took his face in her hands. "I love you so much," she said. He held her tightly and pressed his face against hers. "I can't tell
you what hearing you say that, means to me," he whispered against her face.

    "I have a few more to go, to catch up with you," she said, looking into his eyes.

    He smiled and leaned down and kissed her mouth.

    "Want some tea?" she asked.

    "Yeah, sounds good."

    "Why do you wake up at night?" he asked, sitting down at the table.

    "I don't know. I think, when I first wake up, I'm frightened."

    "Do you remember a dream at all?"

    "No, I just sit up and I realize that I'm frightened."

    "Dr. Blake said that you may have some trouble sleeping. Maybe that's what she meant."

    "Maybe.".... Maybe I just need you to sleep with me," she said, with a smile.

    He looked at her. The look on his face made her laugh.

    "Assumpta, don't joke about things like that," he said, taking a deep breath.

    "I'm not joking. I miss you being there in my room with me. I felt safe."

    He got up and came over to her. He reached down and pulled her into his arms. "I have been wanting to ask you if you would marry me, but I have been waiting until you are well."

    "How much more well, do I have to be? I am well," she said.

    "Assumpta, will you marry me?"

    "Maybe."

    "What?" he said.

    "Just joking," she laughed. "I'll marry you tomorrow, if you want me to. Tonight, even," she hugged him and laughed.

    She walked into his room. "So, when we get married, where do you want to sleep?" she asked.

    "With you," he said, pretending not to know what she was talking about.

    "I mean, which room?"

    "I don't care. Which one do you want?"

    "I like mine better than yours," she remarked, glancing around the room.

    "Then yours it is," he said, looking over at her.

    She had picked up a picture. "I haven't ever seen this one."

    "I just unpacked it," he said. "It's my mum."

    "I've seen her before," she said.

    "I don't think you could have," he said, shaking his head.

    "Yes, I know I have seen her.....I don't remember where.... She talked to me. I remember her voice. It was very soft... I don't remember what she said."

    "It must have been someone else," he puzzled.

    She cupped her hand across her mouth. She stared at the picture. "Oh God, I remember. She was in my dream. She walked a little way with me.." She looked at Peter. Her eyes filled up with tears. So did his.

    The pub looked very festive. Niamh had strung crepe paper across the ceiling. A big sign read Peter and Assumpta, forever!! A beautiful wedding cake sat on a table in the living room. A small fire burned in the fireplace. People were coming in from the
wedding. Niamh was there already. Siobhan and Brendan came in with Padraig close behind. Eamonn had a suit on and had combed his hair for the occasion. Brian was holding Kieran and Ambrose was talking to Liam and Donal at their table. Peter and Assumpta came in followed by Father Aiden.

    Outside, the sun had set and the evening stars were out. The lights of Fitzgerald's sent a warm glow out into the darkened street. The sound of music and laughter...and love.

THE END