Last night I dreamt I went to Ballykissangel again. I stood alone above that beloved valley watching silently as the mist lifted, revealing the fabled 40 shades of green. I walked along the empty street, my footsteps echoing hollowly in the uninhabited village. In time I found myself standing outside Fitzgerald's and for a while the door was barred to me. I peered through the shuttered windows, no fire burned in the grate, no customer stood at the bar. Then, like all dreamers, I was possessed with a supernatural power and passed like a spirit through the barrier. Dust lay like a blanket across the floor, spider webs hung like ghostly decorations and beer dripped monotonously from the tap. The pub was an empty crumbling shell of its former self. I called out, but no one answered. I went from room to room in the desolate ruin, memories framed like pictures on the wall. Even Fionn with his joyful step and wagging red haired tail was absent. When I thought of Fitzgerald's and Ballykissangel in my waking hours I would not be bitter. I would remember it not as it was but as it might have been, as it should have been, had my courage been stronger. I resolved all this in my dream, for like most sleepers I knew that I dreamed. In reality I lay happily, many hundred miles away in a sun drenched foreign land. When I woke it would be in a comfortable book strewn apartment overlooking a small plaza with water splashing in the requisite fountain. In the morning we two will drink rich coffee in an outdoor café and talk about the trivialities of our life, the days' work ahead and the weekend at the lake. I will not speak of my dream, for Ballykissangel is our no more. Fitzgerald's is no more.

We will not go back, at least not this summer. That much is certain. The past is still too close and traumatic. The charred remains of Fitzgerald's is still an open wound without even a roof to cover us. She is wonderfully patient and never complains, even when she is homesick for those green hills. While it's true that our friends would welcome us with open arms, I don't think we are ready yet for the inevitable stares and whispers our presence would generate in the village shop and up at St. Joseph's. We came through fear, loneliness and great distress to find this tiny oasis. I do not wish to burden her further by hastening our return. For now, we enjoy the simplicity of our life, members of a small fraternity of academics, courtesy of Tony the Terrible, who know or care nothing of our past. Still, sometimes those last few days in Ballykissangel are not so easy to forget.

A torrential rain storm rolled vicsously across county Wicklow, turning gutters and gullies into miniature raging rivers. For all its ferocity the storm failed to deter the locals from filling Fitzgerald's. The evening's entertainment was the much heralded Chinese Food Faire, a fund raising event for the local hospital, complete with a much anticipated city cup competition. Chinese decorations and streamers hung about the room, wet wool and cigarette smoke battled with the aromas of beer and soy sauce for dominance. As usual Brian Quiggley used his 'win at any costs' techniques. In the end, everyone had a good laugh when his own chef revealed that only Fr Clifford had prepared his own entry.

Carrying the small plastic trophy he had just won, Peter broke away from the crowd.

"Have you got a minute?" He asked Assumpta, as he headed for an empty place at the far end of the bar.

Assumpta put the photographs of Kieran's christening back in their envelope and laid it on the bar. She looked cautiously about, the revelations of the afternoon still ringing in her head.

"Sure..."

Assumpta leaned casually against the bar in front of Peter.

"I love you." His voice soft and low.

Assumpta was surprised that he would risk being overheard by so many people, especially while most of their plans were yet to be implemented. Still, it was an incredible feeling to hear him say it.

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

Peter smiled warmly and obliged by removing the white plastic collar insert and put it in his jacket pocket.

"Can't help it."

"I know."

Throwing caution to the wind, Assumpta slid her fingers across the bar towards his. The lights flashed suddenly.

"I'll go..." Padraig called from the other side of the room.

"No, no I'll go."

Assumpta patted the bar, smiled at Peter and headed for the cellar and the errant fusebox. Peter watched her go. It was hard to believe that he and Assumpta were finally together. The lights flashed again, followed by a thud.

"Assumpta?" Peter called.

No answer came from the cellar. The bar grew very quiet.

"Assumpta!" Peter shouted and raced behind the bar and down into the cellar. What he saw took his breath away. Assumpta lay at the foot of the steps. "Sumpta?...Michael!" he shouted. "Assumpta's hurt."

Peter dropped to his knees beside her, panic rising in his chest.

"Sumpta" he pleaded, his head close to hers.

Michael hurried down the steps, the scene that greeted him was frightening.

"Get an ambulance!"

"Oh God..." Peter moaned.

Michael began to assess Assumpta.

In seconds Brian, Niamh, Brendan, Fr Mac and Padraig had all crowded into the cellar. Michael's movements grew increasingly hurried.

Peter looked desperately at him for reassurance. "Michael?"

Michael looked back at him, something was clearly wrong. "I...I can't find a pulse!"

Michael straightened Assumpta's body and began chest compressions. Peter took Assumpta's hand and held it to his heart.

"Sumpta...don't leave me..."

"Niamh, I need you over here. Give Assumpta one breath for every 5 compressions."

Time crawled by, cadenced."One, two, three, four, five......one, two..."

"Ambulance should be here any minute." Ambrose called down.

"Have the crew bring down the defibulator first."

"Sumpta...come back...you promised you'd never leave me..."

The scene seemed surreal to Brendan. Like almost everyone in the cellar he had known Assumpta all of her life. She was much more than just a former pupil, the little girl with ribbons in her hair and mischief in her eyes. She was more than just a friend too, always the first to offer help and mean it. She was a large part of his day, his life. He watched Michael's hands keeping her alive.

Shock had detached him, he stayed connected only by the raw anguish tearing Peter apart. Fr Mac was disgusted by Peter's display of emotion. He had thought that sending Peter on retreat had put an end to anything between them, obviously he had been wrong. He elbowed close to Peter and gripped his shoulder.

"Fr Clifford....get a hold of yourself...You have a responsibility ."

He pushed a folded stole and small vial of holy water toward Peter. Peter recoiled and roughly shoved the last rites paraphenailia back.

"She's not going to die!" He said through clenched teeth.

"Ambulance is here!"

The ambulance crew came down into the cellar and quickly began to unpack the defibulator.

"Peter...Peter. You have to let go of her hand."

Peter didn't seem to understand. Brendan gently pulled his hand away from Assumpta's and held him back.

"Clear!"

A jolt of electricity poured through Assumpta's chest. Peter watched, eyes wide with fear.

"No conversion!"

The paramedic pressed the paddles to her chest again, another jolt rocked Assumpta. The paramedic turned to Michael, who nodded. He checked the scope and put his stethoscope to her chest. The paramedics began to pack away the defibulator. Michael draped the stethoscope around his neck with shaking hands and sat back on his heels and took a deep breath. Peter grabbed Michael's arm.

"Please, Michael...don't give up...don't let her die."

"She's not going to die, Peter...Assumpta's going to be fine."

Tears rolled down Peter's face. "Thank God!" He leaned close to Assumpta, his forehead touching hers. "I love you." he whispered.

Assumpta's eyes flickered open. "Peter?" she said weakly.

Peter kissed her softly on the forehead. Her hand touched his cheek. Michael stood up and wiped the sweat from his face. He couldn't remember the last time he had been so scared, so uncertain of his own skill.

"You're all going to have to leave. We need to clear the way for the stretcher."

One by one they left, each taking a long lingering look at the scene in the cellar. Peter sat on the floor, Assumpta held tightly in his arms, her head resting on his chest, her hand stroking his cheek.

Fr Mac was very angry. Peter Clifford had crossed him one time too many. That shameful display in the cellar still burnt in his mind. Well, he was going to be rid of that troublesome man forever. Upon his return to Cilldargen, he had immediately placed a call to the Bishop. Still that wasn't enough to put paid to the insult he and the church had been dealt. He picked up the phone again and asked for London Information.

Fr Mac's call had pulled Leo out of a staff meeting with his editor. The news that Assumpta had been injured and was calling for him, had shaken Leo to the core. He did not stop to think, he raced towards Cilldargen and the hospital, his mind churning all the while. Why hadn't he been able to convince her to leave that village and its damnable Priest? Why had he let her send him away? If she were calling for him, maybe there was still a chance. He would take her home, nurse her himself.

Leo half ran down the hallway, looking frantically for room 812. He saw it at last and was about to push open the door when a nurse put her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry but Mrs Fitzgerald can't have any visitors...She's immediate family only."

"Her name is Mc Garvey and I'm her husband."

"You're her husband!...but I thought."

"Thought what?"

"A man came in the ambulance with her last night...he was so upset...I just assumed that he...."

Leo looked at her coolly. "Tall...English?"

"Yes"

Leo's face hardened. "That's the bloody village Priest."

"I'm sorry." She said backing away. This was quickly turning into a situation. She decided it would be wise to have a security guard on hand, just in case. Leo took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. When he finally gained his composure he quietly pushed open the door a few inches and looked in. Peter sat with his elbows on the bed, his hands covering his face. It occurred to Leo that he was praying. Maybe he had been wrong, maybe Peter really was there just as a priest. Leo was about to go in when he saw Assumpta's hand reach up and take one of Peter's. Peter kissed it.

"Hiya!"

"You look worse than I feel. Why didn't you go home?"

"Couldn't take the chance...you might decide that life with me is too complicated."

"Not likely." She pulled him to her and they kissed. "I love you too much Peter...complicated or not."

Leo felt the impact of her words as strongly as if he had been hit in the chest with a lead pipe. He closed the door silently. Leo walked quickly down the hall not even aware of the nurse and security guard who were watching him. Leo couldn't understand why he had been sent for. Who would have wanted to hurt him that much? He could feel rage begin to build in his chest. He kept seeing Assumpta reach out for Peter, them kissing, Peter holding her. How dare that 'priest' put his hands on her! Assumpta was his wife, annulment or not. Peter Clifford would be made to pay for this.

Michael was not surprised to find Peter still at Assumpta's bedside. After last night he would have been shocked not to find him there. Like most of their friends, Michael had long ago realized that there was a special bond between Peter and Assumpta. Last night had just shown everyone how deep a bond it truly was. Peter stood nervously at the foot of the bed while Michael examined Assumpta.

"Assumpta was one of the first babies I delivered in Ballykissangel...a long difficult birth. I told her poor mother then that she was going to the trouble."

"HEY!" Assumpta interrupted.

"Are you sure you know what you're letting yourself in for with her, Peter?"

A surprised look passed between Peter and Assumpta.

"Don't look so shocked...after last night, I'm sure that even the dogs in the street know about you two."

Peter shrugged and reached for Assumpta's hand, he held it briefly to his heart before kissing it. Michael slid an arm around each of their shoulders.

"I'm happy for you both."

Peter was finally convinced to leave the hospital for a few hours. He headed straight for Fr Mac's house. There seemed no reason to delay another minute. The housekeeper answered the bell.

"I'd like to see Fr Mac."

She looked Peter up and down as if she had never seen him before. "I imagine you would. But he's away all day. Parish business."

Reluctantly Peter returned to Ballykay alone and with nothing settled. For sometime he wandered aimlessly about his little house. Ordinarily if he were at loose ends, he would go to the pub and see Assumpta. Eventually he gave up and went to St. Joseph's, at least he could catch up on the accounts there. He was surprised to find Kathleen and the other church ladies cleaning the sanctuary, even though it had already been cleaned this week.. There was something about their demeanor that told him they had already heard about last night. Well there was nothing to be done for it. Peter was entering the last of the month's receipts into the account book when the sacristy door burst open. A livid Leo stood seething in the doorway.

"WELL!"

Terrific, thought Peter. The very last person on the planet that he ever wanted to see again was standing a few feet away, about to throw a tantrum in full view of the gossipy church ladies. Peter dropped his pen onto the account book.

"Well,...what Leo?"

"You and my wife! You just can't keep your hands off her, can you Father?"

The church ladies bustled over for a better view.

"Why don't we discuss this in private?"

As Peter reached for the door, Leo punched him in the face.

"Father Clifford!"

"Father!" yelped the women.

Peter shook his head, trying to clear his senses. "Leo...this won't..."

"You're lies won't work this time ...I saw you!"

Leo threw another punch. Peter dodged the fist.

"Leo!"

"Stay away from my wife!"

Leo threw another punch. Peter blocked the punch and threw one of his own. It connected squarely with Leo's jaw. He slithered to the floor. When he opened his eyes, Peter was standing over him.

"Why are you doing this?"

"She's my wife!"

"Leo...you know better than that."

Peter bent down and grabbed Leo's shirt, pulling him to his feet.

"I want you gone before Assumpta comes home from the hospital."

"You can't make me leave."

"She doesn't love you, Leo."

Leo mustered all the dignity he could and walked out of the church.

"Disgraceful! Absolutely disgraceful," Kathleen said to his retreating back. "And as for you...have you forgotten that you're supposed to be a priest!" Kathleen reached into her purse and pulled out a handful of tissues that she pressed into Peter's hand. "It's all over the county...a married woman and a catholic priest...Have you no regard for the damage that you're causing?"

Peter wiped the trickle of blood from his nose and looked firmly at Kathleen and the other ladies.

"Assumpta is not married anymore...even the church recognizes annulment. And you don't have to worry about my disgracing the church anymore, either."

Peter stood outside the church. He still couldn't believe the way things were turning out. Yesterday, he and Assumpta had so much hope. They had made plans. And now things had gotten so far out of hand. If it weren't for the bloody tissues in his hand and the painful throb in his nose, he would have tried to convince himself it was a nightmare. Even with the evidence, he found it hard to believe. He, Peter Clifford had been in a fight. Something that hadn't happened since the second grade when 'Tony the Terrible', as Peter's mother had called him, had tried to take control of the playground. He and Assumpta had known that their relationship would cause talk, but that had been before the 5 biggest gossips in the county had seen him fighting over her, with her ex-husband in the sacristy. He wondered now if they could ever live something like that down. If Leo had any brains left at all, he would be long gone before Assumpta's wrath fell on him.

A familiar car screeched around the corner and into the parking lot, coming to a noisy halt only inches from Peter.

"FATHER CLIFFORD!!" Fr Mac shouted, his face molted with rage. "How dare you behave like that in public! My instructions are not to be disregarded! I've already informed the Bishop of relationship with that...woman....I hope he banishes you to some rock in the middle of the ocean!"

Peter fought to maintain his composure before facing Fr Mac. His day was just getting better and better.

"The church will not tolerate...Good God man, what happened to your face?...Have you actually been fighting? I think you've completely lost your senses."

Peter's hand slid into the pocket of his black jacket, his fingers closing on the white plastic collar insert he had placed there last night. He pulled it out and looked at it for a few seconds. All its magic was gone. He tossed it through the car window into Fr Mac's lap.

"You'll have my written resignation on your desk in an hour."

For once Fr Mac was speechless as Peter walked away.

Peter sat down at his desk, a stack of writing paper and envelopes in front of him. Where to begin? It seemed only natural that the bishop be first. He could well imagine the kind of things that Fr Mac must have told him. Peter felt it important that he make clear his side of things. He went into great detail about his love of the church and Assumpta and his great regret at having to choose between them. He hoped that the church would understand and forgive him. In his letter to Fr Mac, he was considerably briefer, saying only 'To whom it may concern, I find myself unable to continue my life as a priest. Please consider my resignation effective immediately.' He wrote short notes to each of his sisters and brothers, saying only that he had left the church and would call when his plans were settled. Before he put down his pen, he sent a short note to Fr Burton, his counselor at the seminary and his best friend from home, Tony the Terrible, now a Jesuit Research Fellow. Peter's mother had tried unsuccessfully to end their friendship after the unsuccessful coup attempt of the school playground. Tony had always been his staunchest ally. If anyone understood what he was going through, it would be Tony. On the way back to the hospital, Peter mailed all but one of the letters. That one he personally slipped through the mail slot on Fr Mac's door.

Leo fished his key ring from his pocket. The key that Assumpta had given when they first returned to Ballykay so many months ago, still fit the lock. Amazing, all that time and she hadn't changed the locks. Leo turned the key and went into the pub. The windows were shuttered and the interior dim. Leo flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. Great! Leo slammed his fist against the switch in frustration. The lights flickered twice and came on. He looked around the room, Chinese decorations hung everywhere, glasses and bottles covered the bar and tables. He had never seen it like this before. He suddenly realized that he hated everything about this place. He hated the tiny village, the pub and most of all he hated that damnable priest. Leo filled a large glass with whiskey and sat down at the bar. Perhaps ten minutes passed before Kevin stuck his head around the pub door.

"Hiya!"

Leo seemed to have a little difficulty ascertaining the location of the voice. When his unfocused eyes finally landed on Kevin, it didn't take the boy long to figure out that Leo was drunk. All the years of putting his father to bed made him an expert of sorts.

"My Dad brought Fionn home with him last night. Should I bring him back for ya?"

Leo took a big gulp of whiskey. "Keep him, I don't know when herself is coming back."

"You not staying then?"

"I'm for the road as soon as I finish this." He said, saluting Kevin with his glass.

Kevin's eyes grew large. "See ya."

"Don't bet on it kid."

Leo sloshed whiskey on a small plastic trophy and didn't notice Kevin leave. A puddle of liquor ran onto an envelope of photographs laying on the bar. Leo rescued it. He idly began to look through them. Pictures of Kieran's christening last weekend, beaming parents, proud grandparents. Small town life bored Leo, he tossed them back on the bar. They fanned out. One caught his attention. It had been taken in front of St Joseph's, Assumpta held Kieran, Peter in his robes stood at her side. The look on their faces told Leo that there was no reason to stay. Assumpta was lost to him forever. He picked up his glass and threw it at the row of bottles behind the bar. Broken glass littered the floor. The drink, rage and reality suddenly made him very tired. Leo pushed aside the things on the bar, folded his arms and laid his head on them. He was quickly asleep. The lights flickered again. Smoke began to seep up from the cellar.

Ambrose was having Fr Mac's car towed away again for illegal parking, when Kevin finally found him.

"Ambrose...I'm afraid something terrible's going to happen if you don't stop Mr. Mc Garvey from driving."

"Why?"

"When I saw him, he'd had an awful lot to drink."

"Where is he?"

"The pub, but he said he was leaving."

Thankfully Leo's car was still parked across the street from the pub when they got there.

"Please, don't tell him I'm the one that told you."

"No worries, you did the right thing, Kevin."

Ambrose waited until Kevin had crossed the street before he opened the door. Smoke billowed out.

"KEVIN! Go tell Niamh the pub's on fire...Then get your dad and as many others as you can. Where was Leo the last time you saw him?"

"Next to the last stool on the left side of the bar."

"LEO! LEO MC GARVEY!" Ambrose took a final gulp of fresh air before plunging into the smoke filled pub. A very long minute later Ambrose pulled Leo out onto the sidewalk.

Assumpta couldn't help but worry. There was no doubt, that something pretty dramatic had happened this morning, Peter's nose was evidence of that. The fact that he had refused to discuss it and that they weren't headed to Ballykay made it all the more ominous. They drove in silence, the dread building in the pit of Assumpta's stomach. Finally, late in the afternoon Peter turned off the main road onto a small rutted dirt track. Several bumpy minutes later he parked by a sheltered section of beach. Wordlessly he climbed out of the car and stared at the distant breakers for a few seconds before he went around to Assumpta's side. He opened the door, pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. Eventually he took her hand and pulled her gently toward the water.

"Come on."

The car was nearly out of sight before he spoke again.

"Hard to believe the whole world can change so much in only 24 hours."

Assumpta stopped and looked at him, her hair whipping about her face in the wind, her fingers trembling.

"Peter, what aren't you telling me? What's wrong?"

Peter took her hand, shocked at the cold touch of her skin. "You're freezing! Why didn't you say something?" He held open his jacket. "Come here." Assumpta stepped into his arms, he pulled the sides of the jacket around her.

"What is it, Peter?"

"I'm afraid everyone in the county is going to hear that we've been having an affair for years."

She looked up at him in surprise. That was the last thing she had expected to hear.

"HOW?"

"The church ladies were cleaning the sanctuary when Leo came in..."

"Leo? What's he doing in Ballykay?"

"Some good Samaritan called him about your accident...he knows about us...there was a pretty nasty scene in the sacristy."

"He's the one that hit you!!"

"Not before implying a lot of things."

"I don't understand this."

"Leo seems to be having a little trouble with the ex part of ex-husband."

"I'll kill him!"

Assumpta fumed, Peter held her close and kissed the top of her head.

Ballykissangel, like most small rural villages turned in early, so Peter and Assumpta were more than a little surprised to find the street to the pub crowded at nearly 11pm. Something pretty powerful must have happened. Peter and Assumpta both wondered silently to themselves if Leo weren't somehow at the bottom of all the excitement. Not able to get the car any closer, Peter parked. As he opened the door the cloying odor of smoke invaded the car. They looked at one another with fear and dread. What had happened? The crowd silently parted as they approached. Michael had said even the dogs on the street knew about them, but the response they were generating seemed out of kilter. The last of the crowd suddenly parted to show them the real reason. Fitzgerald's was a burnt out shell. Seconds passed, neither of them seemed able to take it in. When Assumpta turned to Peter, there were tears in her eyes. Wordlessly Peter folded his arms around her. The crowd watched, a few whispered. Niamh rushed over and put her arms around them.

"Sumpta...I'm so sorry, girl...We tried...We all tried...but we just didn't have a chance."

Assumpta asked, dreading the answer, "Fionn?"

"He's fine...Padraig took him home last night after your accident...He's still there."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No, Ambrose got Leo out in time."

"Leo?"

Niamh nodded toward the two men talking in front of the Garda house. As if on cue they turned in her direction. Both were smudged with soot. Assumpta was surprised to see that Leo's lip and lower jaw were swollen and discolored. Assumpta quickly turned back to Peter. It had never occurred to her there had been an actual fight. Peter was the least likely person she could imagine fighting. She had just assumed that Leo had punched Peter, who true to his creed had turned the other cheek. Peter looked suitably embarrassed. She slipped her hand into his, struggling to keep from laughing out loud. She had several rather pointed things to say to Leo Mc Garvey but when she looked back in his direction Ambrose stood alone. Leo's car drove quickly away.