#
Assumpta was much more careful since her conversation
with Niamh. When Peter was around, she hardly looked at him at all, and
rarely spoke to him. Niamh soon gave up watching Assumpta, especially
since the day her friend had caught her watching. Instead, she turned
her attention to Father Clifford, who seemed to come round less often than
he had in the past. One rainy afternoon, he did stop in at lunchtime,
and Niamh brought him a bowl of soup at the table near the door where he
sat reading the newspaper. She went back behind the bar and when
Assumpta came out with a tray of clean glasses, she saw
the priest glance up, then look away. As Assumpta got busy, she saw
Peter look at her with the same sequence of expressions she had seen on
Assumpta's face weeks before. Tenderness. Longing. Pain.
Brendan came in a few minutes later, and sat down
with Peter for a while before taking his usual seat at the bar. "The usual?"
Niamh asked him.
"Yeah, and a hot turkey sandwich to go with it,
please."
When Assumpta went into the kitchen to make the
sandwich, Niamh saw him and turn and look at Peter with a shake of his
head. He looked at Niamh, a knowing kind of look, and she realized that
Brendan suspected what she did. She leaned over the bar and said
softly, "Do you miss the old atmosphere around here as much as I do?"
He looked at her sharply and nodded. "Yeah, I do."
He looked around and said in the same undertone she had used, "Have you
figured out what's wrong then?"
"I think I have," she said.
"Do you think there's anything we can do about it?
Any way we can help?"
"I wish!" she said. "But this isn't your usual situation,
is it? Too many obstacles. Would he," she nodded in Peter's direction,
"talk to you? She," nodding at the kitchen door, "won't talk to me.
I tried."
Assumpta had been even more withdrawn, and Niamh
was getting frantic. It was like watching her feisty friend waste away,
looking thinner, dark circles under her eyes. One quiet afternoon,
she brought Kieran over, hoping the baby would revive Assumpta's spirits.
She did hold him on her lap, and buried her nose in his hair, kissing him
softly.
"Niamh," she said tentatively, "I need to talk to
you about something."
"Sure." Maybe the time had come!
"I'm thinking of leaving Ballykissangel. At least
for a while."
"Well, maybe that is a good idea," she said, reaching
for Assumpta's hand. "Where will you go?"
"Dublin, I think. A friend wants me to open
a wine bar with her. But there's also a possibility in London. I
haven't made up my mind yet, but I think it's time I stopped dithering."
"You're right. I think it is a good idea."
She grew thoughtful for a moment. "We'll miss you, but. Especially
me."
Assumpta went on to ask if she would take over for
a while, run the bar until she decided if she'd come back, or sell, or
whatever.
Niamh agreed to talk it over with Ambrose, who said
he would think about it. She was taken aback to find out that he
had obviously mentioned it to Father Clifford, because the priest had come
to ask her if it was true, was Assumpta really going away?
"Well, she's thinking about it, Father, that's all,
right now."
"Why?" he asked, looking very troubled. "Why would
she leave?"
"Well, Father," Niamh said, choosing her words carefully,
"there isn't much for her here, is there? I mean, maybe she'd like
to meet someone, fall in love, have a family of her own. Wouldn't
that be natural?"
Peter looked flustered. "Yes, of course. But
you know, there are different kinds of love, different kinds of family.
She has a lot of that here, wouldn't you say?"
"I don't know, Father, does she?" He'd left
shortly thereafter, leaving Niamh to ponder what on earth he'd been thinking.
What she didn't know was that Peter had gone straight
to the pub, and not finding Assumpta in the bar, he pushed open the door
to the kitchen, where she was stirring a big pot of soup. "Hi," she said.
"Assumpta, is it true? Are you really leaving?"
She looked at him. "My God, this place can drive
you mad! You say something, you might as well post it on the wall."
"Are you?"
"What business is it of yours?" she asked sharply.
His hands were shaking and he put them on the table.
"I care about you, Assumpta!"
"What?" Her eyes widened, as she stared at him.
"I....I care about you, what happens to you. I...."
He bit his lip and looked away. "I thought we were friends, that you would
talk to me about this...about leaving Ballykea!"
"Yes, Peter, but you are just a friend, aren't you?
Like all my other friends? When I make up my mind, you'll all know."
He slumped into the nearest chair, and put his face
in his hands. "Oh, please, God..." she heard him murmur.
"Peter, what is it?" She turned from the stove,
watching him intently.
"What is it you want?" he asked, keeping his face
turned away from her. "What are you looking for? What do you expect to
find somewhere else?"
"I don't know," she said. "But whatever it is, I'm
not likely to find it here." She hesitated. "Am I?"
He looked up, and she saw the tears in his eyes.
This time, he looked at her. "You can find it anywhere."
She smiled ruefully. "Do you really believe
that?"
"Why not?" he said softly. "I'm a man of faith,
aren't I?" At that, he turned and left.
She went on absently stirring the soup, wondering
what had just transpired, when Peter came back into the kitchen. She said
nothing.
"I don't believe what I just said, that I'm a man
of faith?"
"Well, you'd better be," she said, "you're a priest."
"Am I?"
"Last time I looked." Better to take refuge, as
always, in detached sarcasm.
He put his hands over his face and groaned.
"Peter, what is it?"
He looked at her. "Why am I always thinking of you?"
"Wh...what?"
"Assumpta, you must know how I feel about you!"
She put down the spoon and covered the pot. "How
would I know that?"
"Are you serious?" He looked astounded. "I
think about you every minute of every day. I take a wedding, or a funeral,
I hear confessions, I say Mass, I say the words, but it's you I'm thinking
of." In a lighter voice, he went on, "I can't sleep because you won't let
me." He reached over and took her hands. "Am I getting through to
you?"
She just stood there, watching as he folded her
hands within his, and brought them to his lips and kissed them, once, twice,
three times. "Peter, I....I don't know what to say."
"Well, for starters, you can tell me what you feel
about me. If anything."
"How long have you been here?" she asked slowly.
"Two and a half years?" He nodded. "Well, for most of that time,
I've been trying to get you out of my head. Without success."
He smiled, still holding her hands. "It's
not what's in your head I need to hear," he said. He reached out
for her and pulled her close to him. He closed his eyes, savoring the feel
of her in his arms. When she didn't speak, he said, "Will it help if I
get off the fence at last and tell you that I love you?" She looked up
at him. "I want you in my life, Assumpta. I'll do whatever it takes. Whatever
you want. Just don't run away from me."
"I won't," she said, leaning her head into his shoulder.
"I won't." She sighed. "What are we going to do?"
"We do what has to be done. When I figure out what
that is."
"And in the meantime?"
"Pray."
She pulled away, offended. "Well, I don't think
that prayer is going to accomplish anything!"
He reached for her again. "I said I'll do whatever
it takes, Assumpta, and I will. I promise. And I'll get on it straightaway.
But you'll have to get used to prayer being part of how I deal with
problems."
"And that's what I am, a problem?"
He couldn't help laughing. "No, you're the solution,
I think. Now, no more talk about leaving, okay?"
"Okay," she said, hugging him. "Peter....is this
really happening?"
"It better be," he said. Then, "yes, oh yes."
They heard the pub door open and the sound of voices.
"I...I have to go," she said reluctantly. He let her step away, but before
she could leave, he tilted her chin up so thst their eyes met. He leaned
over and kissed her gently on the mouth. "Okay," he said.
It was really busy, a busload of tourists had come
in. Niamh had seen the bus and came running over to help. As she
came in, Assumpta looked at her and smiled. A dazzling smile, one she hadn't
seen in a long time. She looked at Assumpta questioningly.
"Everything's going to be all right, Niamh," she
said.
"Everything?"
Another big smile. "Yes," she said. "Everything."