Peter looks into Assumpta's eyes and grins like the cat who swallowed the canary: I love you!

Assumpta looks up and over at the customers: You should take off that collar when you say such things!

Peter, pleased with himself: I can't help it.

Assumpta, looks knowingly at him: I know.

*****

Peter suddenly frowns, sniffs: Did you leave something on the flame in the kitchen?

Assumpta straightens up: No, I don't think so.
She whirls around and steps into the kitchen, then comes back out: Nothing there, but I do smell something now, too.

Peter and Assumpta both step behind the bar and look frantically around and underneath, trying to figure out where the smell is coming from. Other customers begin to take notice of them.

Assumpta reaches down to open the trap door leading to the cellar: It's hot!

She grabs a bar towel to protect her hand and pulls the door up. Black smoke pours out. She drops the door and it remains open.

Assumpta cries: Oh my God! Niamh, call the fire brigade!

CUT TO: Niamh, worried, dashes toward the phone.

Assumpta yells (off-camera): And get Fionn!

CUT BACK TO: Behind the bar of Fitzgerald's.

Assumpta starts to go down into the cellar.
Peter pulls her back: Assumpta! What are you doing? We've got to get everyone out of here.
He stands up tall and calls out in a calm and friendly manner: Folks, there seems to be a bit of a fire down here. Let's all clear out.

CUT TO: Fitzgerald's doorway interior.

The customers nearest the bar have already started leaving, quickly but without panic. Then the floor groans and creaks. Sounds of popping and breaking glass come from the cellar. People start pushing and shouting as they evacuate.

CUT TO: Fitzgerald's doorway exterior.

People are exiting the pub. Quigley, pushing from behind, waving his arms: All that alcohol down there's going to go up like a roman candle! Let's move it!

CUT BACK TO: Behind the bar of Fitzgerald's.

Assumpta opens the cash register and grabs the bills then moves toward the stairs leading to the upper level.
Peter is aghast, grabs her arm, coughs as the room is getting smoky: What are you doing? We've got to get out of here!

Assumpta, urgently, squinting her eyes against the smoke, straining against Peter's grasp: I have some important things up there!

CUT TO: Shot of the open cellar door.

An orange glow is now visible from the open trap door and we hear cracking sounds.

CUT BACK TO: Behind the bar of Fitzgerald's.

Peter puts his arm around Assumpta's shoulder, pulling her toward the door, shouts: Nothing is more important than you!

CUT TO: Fitzgerald's doorway interior.

Niamh, calling from the doorway, frantic: Assumpta! Father Clifford!

CUT TO: Fitzgerald's interior, wide shot. Peter and Assumpta run together, coughing, through the smoke to the open door. We hear loud creaks and groans.

CUT TO: Fitzgerald's exterior. Just as Peter and Assumpta reach the safely of the doorway and step out into the street, we hear a loud crash. Smoke and ash billow from the doorway.

SCENE: Night. Street outside Fitzgerald's. The building still stands. It is raining. Poignant and dramatic music plays.

A fire truck and an ambulance are parked in the street, lights flashing. The fire fighters are packing up their equipment. A crowd  of regulars and extras stands around, watching. Peter and Assumpta stand in the front of the crowd, his arm is around her. They both stare despondently at the still-smoking building, their wet hair plastered to their heads.

The camera pulls back to show the whole scene from a slightly elevated vantage point.

ROLL CREDITS

EPISODE 12: WHEN THE SMOKE CLEARS

SCENE: Early morning. Foggy. Burned-out interior of Fitzgerald's. There is a gaping hole in the floor where the bar used to be. The cellar is filled with rubble and water. The upper level appears to be unscathed.

Assumpta is wearing heavy-duty gloves and old clothes, picking through the rubble. She looks grim.

CUT TO: Fitzgerald's doorway interior.

Peter appears in the doorway wearing priest's garb, surveys the scene: Phhhhh. Assumpta, I...

CUT BACK TO: Fitzgerald's interior.

Assumpta looks up at him.

Peter, gestures helplessly: How can I help?

Assumpta surveys the damage: I don't know. I guess I could use a few hands to help salvage what can be salvaged. I'd like to get upstairs and have a look around, too, but the stairway's too badly damaged.

Peter: Right, I'll go round up some helpers.

Assumpta turns back to her work, then closes her eyes and rests her forehead on her forearm

Peter hesitates a moment, then: Assumpta.

Assumpta sniffs, looks back at him.

Peter, firmly: We'll get through this.

ROLL TITLES

SCENE: Morning. Street in front of Quigley's restaurant.

A van is parked in front of the restaurant. Quigley and Shamie are standing on the sidewalk, conferring. Liam lifts a box out of the van.

Quigley looks up at Liam, points: Careful with that! You drop it, you bought it.

Liam, confused: It's already paid for, Mr. Quigley. You signed for it, don't you remember?

Quigley presses his lips together: Just be careful.

Liam carries the box into the restaurant.

Quigley turns his attention back to Shamie, who is holding a piece of paper up for him to consult.

Niamh walks up, pushing the pram: Hi, Dad, it looks like you'll be ready for your grand opening tomorrow night, eh?

Quigley looks up from the paper, importantly: Not at all, we're opening today.

Niamh, indignant: Today? What, are you going to try to steal Assumpta's customers away before she gets a chance to clean up?

Quigley looks over toward Fitzgeralds, nods, pedantically: My dear, with the extent of the damage that Assumpta's facing, it won't matter one way or the other to her business whether we open up today or tomorrow. It'll be weeks before she's ready to re-open the bar, if at all.

Niamh, troubled: What do you mean by that?

Quigley shakes his head: Never mind.

Niamh: Why the rush, then?

Quigley: Our do-gooder priest has gotten it into his mind to organize work crews to speed up the clean-up. To me, that means lots of big appetites and nowhere to still them in about...
He looks at his watch: Three hours.

Donal and Liam come out of the restaurant, go over to the van, lift out a big bag of rice together.

Quigley looks over at Liam and Donal, points at the bag, remonstratively: Careful!

Liam and Donal exchange a look. Liam says (to Donal): I told him it's already paid for.
They shrug, carry the bag between them into the restaurant.

Quigley (to Niamh): So if you'll excuse me, Shamie was just going over the menu with me.
He looks at Shamie: If we don't get going on this thing, it'll be prawn sandwiches and green tea.

Shamie grins: Right, Mr. Quigley.

SCENE: Morning. Overcast. Padraig's workshop interior.

Padraig is working on some sort of engine. Through the window, we see Brendan approach and knock on the door.

Padraig looks up: Come in!

Brendan opens the door and sticks his head in: I'm just stopping by on my way to the school. Father Clifford's getting together a work crew to help Assumpta clean up over at Fitzgerald's. Can you spare some time today?

Padraig shakes his head, looks down: I should have spared some time earlier. If I'd gotten Assumpta's wiring sorted out, this whole thing would never have happened.

Brendan: Ahhh, you can't blame yourself, Padraig. Assumpta's an independent woman. She'd never have let you work on the place before being able to pay.

Padraig: And now where's she going to come up with the money?
He shakes his head again: I'll be over as soon as I can.

Padraig returns to his work.

SCENE: Daytime. Hendley's interior.

Kathleen is arranging goods on a shelf.

CUT TO: Hendley's doorway interior.

Siobhan pushes the door open. The bell tinkles.

Siobhan, friendly: Afternoon, Kathleen.

CUT BACK TO: Hendley's interior.

Kathleen turns from the shelf, nods, cautiously: Afternoon.
She nods toward the street, curiously: Lots of work going on over there.

Siobhan, brightly: Half the town's on their feet. You wouldn't happen to have some heavy-duty gloves in stock, would you?

Kathleen, politely: Gloves?

Siobhan: Yeah, like for a workman or a gardener. We've got lots of manpower and womanpower, but they aren't all properly equipped.

Kathleen: Let me just see.
She walks toward the back of the store, voice off-camera: Do they know what caused the fire?

Siobhan calls back, jovially: Faulty wiring. Lucky no one got hurt. Assumpta tried herself to fix it earlier.

Kathleen returns with a couple of pairs of gloves in her hand: Ts, ts. I'll say she was lucky. The whole row could have gone up.
She stops, presses her lips together, lectures: Well, that's what will happen when people don't leave things to the experts. Try to save a few pennies, and what do you have to show for it.
She smiles condescendingly: Will these do?
She waves the gloves in front of Siobhan.

Siobhan, flatly: Those look fine. How much?

Kathleen seems embarrassed, half smiles: Just take them. They're gathering dust back there anyway.

Siobhan, pleased: Thanks, Kathleen.

SCENE: Daytime. Quigley's restaurant interior.

The tables are full. Liam and Donal move about busily, not doing much.

Siobhan and Padraig, wearing dirty clothes, enter, look around, spot Quigley toward the back of the room.

Siobhan cranes her neck, raises her hand: Oi, Brian, got a table for two hungry ash-haulers?

Padraig grins.

Peter, wearing dirty civil clothes, enters the restaurant behind them, raises three fingers: Make that three.

Siobhan and Padraig turn around.

Assumpta, a black smear across her shirt, steps into the doorway behind Peter, uncertainly: Or four.

Quigley, holding menus, reaches the entryway, looks over the group from head to foot: I think I'll have to start enforcing a dress code.
He looks at Assumpta: Come to check out the competition, have you?

Assumpta looks Quigley in the eye: Can't hurt.

An extra calls (off-camera): What does a man have to do to get some service around here?

Quigley turns, raises his hand, conciliatorily: I'll be right there.
He turns his attention back to the group, hastily: You can see I'm kind of busy. Just grab a chair...
He looks around, gestures randomly: Wherever.
He turns (to customer), busily: Yes sir, coming.
He leaves.

Siobhan looks at Assumpta: With this kind of service, I don't think you'll have anything to worry about.

Padraig: It's his charm that draws them in.
Chuckles.

SCENE: Daytime. Hendley's interior.

Shamie gathers up all of the cold sandwiches off the shelf of the refrigerated section, balances them in his arms, walks to the counter, drops them onto the counter in front of Kathleen with a flourish.

Kathleen eyes him suspiciously: You've worked up that much of an appetite, have you?

Shamie smiles: Yes, ma'm.

Kathleen starts ringing up the sandwiches, curiously: Aren't you the cook in Brian Quigley's new restaurant?

Shamie leans over, smiles, whispers confidentially: Liam and Donal dropped the rice.

Kathleen looks bewildered, continues ringing up the sandwiches.

SCENE: Evening. Peter's cottage exterior.

Assumpta, wearing dirty jeans and old shirt, approaches, looking exhausted and tense, knocks on the door, looks around quickly.

CUT TO: Peter's cottage doorway exterior. Closeup.

Peter opens the door, wearing civil, cleaned up, looks surprised and pleased but does not move to let Assumpta in: Assumpta! What can I do for you?

Assumpta, wearily: Can I come in? I just need you to hold me again...

CUT TO: Peter's cottage doorway exterior. Wider shot.

Peter takes a step back, as if to let Assumpta in, looks uncomfortable, scratches his head: Umm...

Assumpta starts to step in. We hear from inside (Quigley's voice): Don't mind me, I was just leaving.

Assumpta looks at Peter, as if to say uh-oh.

Peter looks at Assumpta, as if to say well, there we have it.

SCENE: Evening. Peter's cottage interior.

Peter holds the door open as Assumpta enters.

CUT TO: Peter's living room.

Quigley is just standing up from the couch: I'll just be trotting along. Gotta get back over to the restaurant. Father Clifford was trying to drum up some equipment to help with the clean up. But it looks like you've got something else to discuss.

Assumpta looks anxiously at Peter.

Peter: Ah, Brian. Look. I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this to yourself just for a few more days. I'm planning on making an announcement in church on Sunday.

Assumpta looks urgently at Quigley.

Quigley: I am the soul of discretion.
He places his finger to his lips and steps past Assumpta to the door: And I'll see what I can do on the equipment, Father.

CUT TO: Peter's cottage doorway interior.

Quigley stops in the doorway, asks innocently: Shall I close the door behind me?
He smiles, leaves, closing the door.

CUT BACK TO: Peter's living room.

Assumpta, aghast: Oh, God, Peter, I am so sorry.

Peter, smiles: Don't worry about it. Someone was bound to find out sooner or later. That's why I'm going to take the first opportunity to clear the air on Sunday.
Peter motions toward the kitchen: Can I get you something? Some tea? Have you eaten?

Assumpta smiles and shakes her head: No, nothing, I just came by to see you and then I'm going straight to Niamh and Ambrose's to get some sleep.

Peter steps close to Assumpta, takes her hand: How's the cleanup effort going?

Assumpta looks down at their hands: I'm exhausted. I don't know, Peter, it's an awful lot of work. I appreciate all the volunteers, but I'm going to need heavy equipment and professionals.

Peter looks hopeful, nods toward the door: Brian said...

Assumpta looks sharply at Peter: And I don't want to have to count on Brian Quigley!
Her look softens as they watch each other's faces, still holding hands.
Peter pulls her head in to rest on his chest and strokes her hair, whispers: We'll get through this.

They hold the embrace for a moment, then step back, still holding hands. Assumpta looks at Peter: I'd better be going.

Peter nods in agreement: Yes, you'd better.

Assumpta takes a step backward toward the door, not taking her eyes off his face, smiles seductively: Good night.

Peter moves toward the door with her: Good night.
Peter reaches around behind her to open the door. He glances outside. He looks back at Assumpta, grins, emphatically, in a stage whisper: I love you.

Assumpta grins broadly: Me too.
She lets go his hand and steps out the door backwards: Bye.

CUT TO: Peter's cottage doorway exterior.

Peter, in the doorway: Bye.
He waits a moment, watching Assumpta walk away, then closes the door, smiling to himself.

SCENE: Morning. Ambrose and Niamh's kitchen. Quigley is sitting at the table with a cup in front of him. Kieran is in a high chair. Niamh is feeding him.

Quigley: So it looks like Assumpta's going to rebuild.

Niamh, glancing at her father, suspiciously: What makes you say that?

Quigley: Well, she's got practically the whole town over there cleaning up. Why go to the trouble if she isn't going to rebuild?Did she say anything to you about her plans?

Niamh: Dad, I don't think she has any plan yet. They're just trying to save what they can. You could show some goodwill and go over and lend a hand, you know.

Quigley, ignoring Niamh's suggestion: Even if she does rebuild, she won't be able to live there for a while. Are you going to let her stay here on your couch until then?

Niamh, snippily: Not that it's any of your business, but Assumpta is welcome to stay here for as long as she needs to. SHE knows when to keep her nose out of other people's affairs!

Quigley snorts: If it's Assumpta and affairs we're talking about...

Niamh gives him a sharp warning look: Dad.

Quigley raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Niamh has finished feeding Kieran and picks him up out of his chair: If you can't bring yourself to go over and help, then you could at least mind Kieran while I go pitch in for a while.
She hands Kieran to Quigley: Now you be good for Granddad.

Quigley, protesting: Now hold on, I've got to get over to the restaurant to oversee the dinner
 prep. With everybody working up an appetite over at Assumpta's we should do good business again today. That fire couldn't have happened at a more opportune time.

Niamh, aghast: Dad!

Quigley shrugs, indifferently.

Niamh, on her way out: Have Ambrose bring him on over when you've had enough.

Quigley, businesslike: (to Kieran) Let's you and me make a few phone calls, shall we?

SCENE: Daytime. Father Mac's office interior. Father Mac is behind his desk. Peter, wearing priest's suit, is seated in front.

Father Mac, noncommitally: Too bad about Fitzgerald's. It's a good thing no one was hurt.

Peter, sincerely: Yes, we were very lucky.

Father Mac narrows his eyes: "We." So you're going ahead and putting in with Miss Fitzgerald, are you.

Peter stands, starts to pace the room: It hasn't been easy for me. I denied it for a long time.

Father Mac: And now you feel you can deny it no longer.
He purses his lips, pedantically: Father Clifford. God's injunction of celibacy for his servants is not meant as a denial of fleshly pleasures, but as an invitation to the spirit. Only when our bodies remain pure can our meagre intellects even begin to fathom His divine Being. Only thus can we enter into true communion with Him.

Peter stops and looks intently at Father Mac: But that's just it. I haven't been able to make that connection in months. I've just been going through the motions. That's not doing service to the congregation or to God. And I'm not talking about "lust". (he says it as if it were a dirty word)

Father Mac rolls his eyes: Yes, I know. You are in "love" with her. (he says it as if it were a dirty word)

Peter laughs shortly, insulted: Yes, I am. And I don't see how that will change. I've tried to put it behind me, but it won't go away. I don't believe that you can understand that.

Father Mac regards Peter silently, as if contemplating whether to say something in response. Then, finally, sighs, resignedly: As you wish. I can relieve you of your local duties as curate in Ballykissangel, but you will have to apply through the proper channels to be released from your vows.

Peter nods, the tension leaving his face: I should like to stay on until Sunday, so that I can speak once more to the congregation.

Father Mac nods: That seems the honorable thing to do.
He stands up: I fear you will be sorely missed among your parishioners.

Peter smiles: I will still be among them, as a friend.

SCENE: Daytime. Street outside Fitzgerald's. Wide angle.

There is a skip parked in front, extras are hauling rubble out of the building and dumping it into the skip.

Assumpta is standing at the doorway, directing the traffic. Niamh is standing at the skip, overseeing the dumping. Quigley comes across the street from the garda post and strides purposefully up to Assumpta. They engage in an unheard conversation. Assumpta appears standoffish. Niamh watches skeptically. Finally Assumpta and Quigley nod. Quigley seems satisfied.

Quigley trots back across the street, greets Niamh in passing: Kieran's fine, he's with Ambrose. I'm going over to the restaurant.
He rubs his hands.

SCENE: Sacristy interior. Closeup.

Peter is in priest's garb, sitting at the desk, writing. He looks concentrated.

Knock at the door. Peter looks up.

Ambrose, in uniform, is in the doorway: Father? Got a minute?

Peter gestures at his papers, half smiles: Just working on my sermon for Sunday.

Ambrose looks vaguely interested: Ah.

Peter stands: What can I do for you, Ambrose?

Ambrose, businesslike: Just wanted to confirm our engagement on Saturday.

Peter, confused: Saturday?

Ambrose, insulted: Kieran's christening?

Peter, apologetic: Oh, yes, I'm sorry Ambrose, it's just with all that's happened this week... (reassuringly) of course, yes, we're still on.

Ambrose, relieved: Good.

Peter: Have you settled on the godparents yet?

Ambrose, smiles, proudly: Siobhan and Brendan. Of course we would have liked to have had Assumpta, but for the religious part.
His smile vanishes: Sorry, Father.

Peter smiles: Not at all. Siobhan will make a fine godmother.

SCENE: Night. Quigley's house. Hallway interior. The doorbell rings.

Quigley opens the door. It is Assumpta, wearing fresh clothes.

Quigley, jovially: Assumpta, come in, come in.
He steps back to allow her to enter.

Assumpta looks on her guard. She steps inside.
Quigley closes the door behind her, starts walking down the hall: What can I get you? Wine? Brandy?

Assumpta follows him: Nothing, thanks. Shouldn't you be at your restaurant?

SCENE: Night. Quigley's house. Living room interior.

Quigley enters, followed by Assumpta.

Quigley, walking toward the bar, over his shoulder: I'll be heading back there shortly. The boys have things under control.

Assumpta, laughs shortly, incredulously: Oh, really? Liam and Donal?

Quigley, reassuringly: Shamie's in charge.

Assumpta nods and smiles to herself.

Quigley steps to his bar and pours himself a drink: Anyway, I thought it'd be better to discuss things in private. How're things at the Egans'?

Assumpta stands awkwardly: Fine.

Quigley takes a sip: Kieran keep you up much?

Assumpta: Not so far.
Wryly: I've been so beat, I don't think fireworks going off next door would wake me.

Quigley grunts in assent. He moves around to sit on the couch, drink in hand, and motions Assumpta to an armchair: Have a seat.

Assumpta sits: Thanks for the use of the ladders and things.

Quigley waves his drink in a dismissive gesture: Think nothing of it. It's in the town's best interest to get Fitzgerald's up and running again as soon as possible. That is what you intend, is it not?

Assumpta: I do. But at the moment, I think we've come to the limit of what our volunteers can do.

Quigley nods, places his drink on the table next to him: Assumpta, I'd like to make you an offer. Now, I know you're going to say no right off, but please just sit still and hear me out. Then you can go home, sleep on it, discuss it with...
He pauses, looks pointedly at her: ...someone...

Assumpta glares at him.

Quigley continues briskly: ...and let me know as soon as possible. Like I said, we all want Fitzgerald's open for business again.

Assumpta, skeptically: WE do...?

Quigley: Of course. Fitzgerald's is a fixture of the community as well as being the only hostel in town. Plus it's an eyesore on the main road in its present condition. Now, I assume you are an astute enough businesswoman to have filed an insurance claim against the damage to the bar.
Quigley eyes Assumpta questioningly.

Assumpta, flatly: Go on.

Quigley: Have they given you an estimate yet of what the settlement will be?

Assumpta: That's none of your business.

Quigley leans forward, speaks intently: Now listen. I figure that the costs to you for the renovation will exceed what the insurance is willing to pay. You'll have to take out loans to complete the work. You'll be tied up with red tape for months, years even. I propose to buy the building from you, in its present condition, no strings attached. I will assume responsibility for the remainder of the cleanup and renovation. In return, you will sign over the property and the insurance money to me.

Assumpta looks incredulous, laughs briefly: Brian, tell me, why in the world would I want to do such a daft thing?

Quigley leans back: Like I said, even with the insurance, you'll be in the hole for years. This way, you stand free and clear, with a nice little nest egg to start over with.

Assumpta, annoyed: Start what over? You expect me to open another pub here in BallyK to compete with Fitzgerald's?

Quigley: Now Assumpta, you know I don't like to get personal. But I think I know what's going on between you and the Father.

Assumpta starts to protest vehemently: There is nothing ...

Quigley holds up his hands and interrupts her: Ah, ah, just hear me out. Think about it now. Ballykissangel is a small town. How easy do you think it's going to be for you two? A married woman and a Catholic priest. Come now. Even among your regulars there are those who won't take kindly to it.
Quigley shakes his head: You're in for hard times.

Assumpta stands up, coldly: Well. Thank you, Brian, for your concern. I don't think we have anything further to discuss.
She turns and starts walking toward the door.

Quigley stands up, follows her: Just keep it in mind, Assumpta. I knew your pride would speak first, but maybe you'll let your sense speak tomorrow.

CUT TO: Quigley's entryway interior.

Assumpta reaches the door, opens it, turns back to Quigley: I don't think so.

Quigley reaches the door: As you wish. You know where to find me.

Assumpta turns around, leaves.

Quigley closes the door, smiles smugly: We'll see.

SCENE: Morning. Foggy. Siobhan's front garden.

Siobhan is loading some tarps into the back of her van. Eamon walks up the path toward her.

Siobhan hears him, turns around, greet him heartily: Eamon! Top of the morning to you. How are things up at your place?

Eamon approaches Siobhan, timorously, pleadingly: Morning, Siobhan. I wonder if you wouldn't have some time to come up to see one of my sows.

Siobhan leans against the van, crosses her arms, businesslike: What seems to be the problem?

Eamon declares emphatically: She thinks she's a dog!

SCENE: Morning. Foggy. Eamon's farm.

Eamon and Siobhan get out of Siobhan's van. A medium-sized mongrel trots over to Eamon, sniffs him. Eamon waits for Siobhan to walk around the van.

Siobhan stops, looks at the dog.

Eamon looks at Siobhan earnestly, points down at the dog: Here's the problem.

Siobhan: Eamon, that IS a dog.

Eamon turns, walks toward his pig enclosure. The dog runs ahead, barking. Eamon beckons to Siobhan: Follow me.

CUT TO: Outside. Corner of pig enclosure.

The dog is outside the enclosure, wagging his tail and sniffing through the fence. A pig stands on the other side of the fence, sticking its snout between the fence slats.

Eamon: There she is. Spends all her time in the corner there, mooning over the dog.

Siobhan hooks her elbow over the fence of the enclosure, looks down at the dog, amused: Whose dog is it? I don't remember seeing him around here before.

Eamon: Just turned up one day. Took a liking to the pig. Can't keep them apart.

Siobhan looks at Eamon: So what exactly is the problem, here?

Eamon: First off, the other pigs won't have nothing to do with her no more.
He gestures at the pig in the corner: They won't let her near the food. Gotta feed her extra.

Siobhan nods seriously.

Eamon: Then there's the question of safety.

Siobhan looks puzzled.

Eamon: Dog climbed up over the fence yesterday. Guess he wanted to get close to the pig. You never heard such a commotion. I thought they'd tear him limb from limb.

Siobhan raises her eyebrows: What, the pigs went after the dog?

Eamon: Like he was a bucket of fresh corn.
He nods down at the pig in the corner: She tried to fend them off, but they was too much for her.

Siobhan sighs: Well, Eamon, I don't know what to tell you. I could take the dog in to the shelter for you.

Eamon looks down at the pig in the corner, sadly: I think she'd pine away for longing.

Siobhan: Or you could let nature take its course. Put the pig and the dog together in a honeymoon suite and leave them to it.

Eamon, incredulously: You don't think they'd...

Siobhan smiles mysteriously: I don't mean to ken the ways of true love.

SCENE: Night. Quigley's restaurant interior.

The restaurant is half-full. Extras sit around, talking quietly among themselves and eating. Peter (wearing civil), Brendan, Siobhan, Niamh, Dr. Ryan, Padraig sit around a table, conversing. Food and wine is on the table, their plates are half-full yet.

Brendan claps Peter on the back: Kieran Peter. What did you do to deserve such an honor?

Peter looks down, seems embarrassed: Well, I don't know.
He looks up at Niamh: It wasn't after me, was it Niamh?

Niamh, who hadn't heard what Brendan said: Hm? What wasn't after you?

Brendan, loudly, to be heard over the background conversation: Kieran Peter! I thought I was the godfather.

Padraig: Yeah, shouldn't it ought to have been Kieran Brendan?

Niamh, haughtily: You'll leave your mark on him in your own way, Brendan Kearney, I'm sure of that.
She lifts her fork and takes a bite.

Siobhan: Better not be from his strap!
She reaches for a fortune cookie from the table in front of her, cracks it open, removes the fortune, drops it, and eats the cookie.

Brendan turns to Siobhan, insulted: Siobhan!

Siobhan smiles: I'm just teasing you, Brendan. Why, you'll have the boy reciting Yeats before he knows how to tie his shoes.

Padraig, grinning: And what about you, Siobhan? You'll have him trudging after you through so much manure, he won't even be able to find his shoes.

Laughter.

Siobhan: I'll have my own little one to carry about, thank you very much.

Brendan looks down and away, picks up his drink.

Dr. Ryan: Yes, Siobhan, how are you feeling? Everything fine?

Siobhan: Couldn't be better. I can't get enough of these fortune cookies, though.
She reaches out and picks up a fortune cookie from the table in front of her, cracks it open, removes the fortune, drops it on the table, eats the cookie.

Niamh reaches over and picks up the fortune: What does it say?
She reads it: Two heads are better than one.

Peter picks up a glass of wine, takes a sip, cheekily: Maybe you're having twins.

Siobhan, in mock horror: Heaven forbid!
She reaches for another fortune cookie.

Niamh: Speaking of children, I'm just going to call the house and see how Kevin's getting on with Kieran.
She stands up.

Padraig: He knows to call here if Kieran wakes up, I'm sure everything's fine.

Niamh, stubbornly: I know, but all the same. It's a mother's prerogative to worry.

SCENE: Night. Street outside Fitzgerald's.

Ambrose, in uniform, is walking along the street. He reaches Fitzgerald's. He takes out a torch and shines it along the facade. We see that the windows are boarded up. He steps into the doorway and shines his torch through the frosted glass of the door, tries to peer through. We hear footsteps. Ambrose turns and nearly runs into Assumpta.

Ambrose, surprised: Assumpta! What are you doing here?

Assumpta, worried: Hi, Ambrose, anything wrong?
She tries to look through the glass also: I thought I'd just come by and make sure everything's set for the night.

Ambrose steps back from the door: No, no, just doing my regular rounds. Everything seems fine.

Assumpta turns back to Ambrose: It's funny, I just can't keep away, even though I know there's nothing I can do in there.
She looks at the pub: I feel like it needs me to be here, for reassurance.
She looks down: Maybe it's me who needs reassurance.

Ambrose nods, half smiles: I know. It's like your best friend is in hospital.

Assumpta, looks at Ambrose, startled and delighted by the idea: Exactly.

SCENE: Quigley's restaurant interior.

The group is still sitting at the table.

Niamh, standing next to the table, pulls her chair out: They're fine. Kevin's watching TV and Kieran's still sound asleep.

Padraig, reassuringly: Didn't I say so.

Niamh sits down.

Brendan looks across the room, sits up straight, waves: Hey, Assumpta! Over here!
The others turn their heads.

CUT TO: Quigley's restaurant entryway.

Assumpta, wearing the same clothes she had for the meeting with Quigley, closes the door behind her, sees the group, smiles, greets Donal who is standing by the door wearing white and holding some menus: Hi, Donal. Nice uniform.

Donal looks down at his clothes, back at Assumpta, bewildered: Thanks.
He waits a moment, then suddenly jabs a menu toward her.

Assumpta shakes her head, gestures toward her friends: No thanks, I'll just be joining them.
She steps past Donal, smiling at him.

Donal blinks and watches her.

CUT TO: The group at the table.

Assumpta walks up to the table: Hi, guys, didn't you save a seat for me?
She looks directly at Peter.

Brendan stands: We didn't know you'd be coming.

Dr. Ryan stands also: Evening, Assumpta.

Peter looks at Assumpta, smiles, glances at Brendan, remembers his manners, and half stands also.

Niamh looks around behind her: Here, pull up a chair next to me. I'm on my own tonight anyway.
She gestures to the space next to her, which happens to be next to Peter also.

Brendan steps around the table: I'll get one.
He moves away.

Dr. Ryan and Peter sit down again.

Assumpta (to Niamh): I just saw Ambrose doing his rounds outside.
She turns to the company at the table: All quiet on the western front.

Brendan returns with a chair, which he holds for Assumpta.

Assumpta sits: Thanks, Brendan.
She reaches her hands down to scoot her chair closer to the table.

CUT TO: Under the table.

As Assumpta pulls her chair in, she reaches over under the table and runs her hand along Peter's leg.

CUT TO: Peter looks sideways at Assumpta, picks up his drink and holds it in front of his mouth to cover his smile.

Brendan returns to his seat. He may have seen something.

Assumpta turns to Niamh, politely: How was the christening?

Niamh: It was lovely. Really, it couldn't have been more perfect.
She quickly corrects herself: Unless of course you'd been there, too.

Siobhan, proudly: Kieran was an angel. Didn't even blink an eye when Father Clifford poured the water over his head.

Peter smiles: I thought I'd nearly drowned him.

Siobhan (to Peter): I'm just counting on you to repeat the performance when it's our turn.
She points at her stomach.

Brendan glances at Siobhan, looks down at the drink in his hand.

Assumpta looks curiously at Peter.

Peter looks uncomfortable, pokes at his plate with his fork: I can't promise you anything, Siobhan.

SCENE: Sunday morning, church interior.

The pews are full.

Peter, wearing vestments, steps up to the pulpit, looks out at the congregation. He looks down at his notes, takes a moment to compose himself, clears his throat, looks up again: Brothers and sisters, this morning I should like to speak on a passage from St. Paul's second letter to the Corinthians.

He looks down at his notes:
"Let a man so account of us, as of the ministers of Christ, and stewards of the mysteries of God.
Moreover, it is required in stewards, that a man be found faithful.
But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you, or of man's own judgment: yea, I judge not mine own self.
For I know nothing by myself; yet am I not hereby justified: but he that judgeth me is the Lord.
Therefore, judge nothing before the time, until the Lord come, who both will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts: and then shall every man have praise of God."

He looks up again, speaks intently and sincerely: "Let a man so account of us." Others do take account of us. Our neighbors are always watching what we do, listening to what we say, balancing up the differences between the one and the other. Yet if we are faithful, so we will be found faithful. If we are honest, true, and full of integrity, what should it mind us that our neighbors are taking account?

Peter looks down at his notes again: "But with me it is a very small thing that I should be judged of you...but he that judgeth me is the Lord." Of course, we all worry about what others think of us, even if we believe we have no fault. Well, who of us has no fault? None, surely. We are none of us better than the other. However, regardless of what our neighbors think, He whose judgment we have to fear is God's. If we do what is right in the sight of God, then we have nothing to fear. And let us remember that only God in His infinite wisdom can pass judgment on us mortals.

Peter speaks firmly, with emphasis: We - know - nothing. How can we know a man's true motives or the feelings of his heart? Only God knows all the truth. That is why we have nothing to fear from the judgments of our fellow men. The time will come, when the Lord "will bring to light the hidden things of darkness, and will make manifest the counsels of the hearts." Some things are meant to remain hidden, until the Lord's own time to reveal them. But sometimes we must make manifest the counsels of our own hearts.

Peter pauses, looks lovingly out at the congregation: My friends. I hope I can still count you my friends. I have worked among you for the past three years. We have experienced together all that life offers: happiness, heartache, jealousy, love, fear, pride, greed, charity. I thank you for letting me share in your joyful times and I hope that I have been able to make some of your difficult times easier. The time has now come for me to step down as one of God's shepherds, although I hope to remain in your midst, for the time being at least.

CUT TO: Reaction shots.

The congregation stirs, people look at each other and shake their heads or shrug.

Peter's voice, off-camera: I know that many of you, perhaps all of you, will take account of my decision.

CUT TO: Kathleen makes a sour lemon face and narrows her eyes.

Peter: I don't ask you not to judge me, but I do ask you not to judge lightly.

CUT TO: Padraig stares at Peter. Kevin, sitting next to him, looks up at Padraig, then back at Peter.

Peter: My decision has not been taken lightly, but only after many months of introspection and prayer.

CUT TO: Dr. Ryan nods in a satisfied way.

Peter: I also ask you not to judge anybody else for a decision that was made purely between myself and God. This is the only way that I can remain faithful to God and act with integrity.

CUT TO: Niamh curls her lip and looks incredulous. Ambrose, next to her, looks from Peter to Niamh and back again.

Peter: I pray for your understanding and your continued good will.

CUT TO: Siobhan and Brendan exchange a long look that says, A-ha!

Peter: Amen.

SCENE: Sunday morning. Church door exterior.

Peter is standing next to the door as usual, to say good-bye to the parishioners. Some extras are shaking his hand and apparently making sympathetic comments as they pass. Others are clearly spurning him.

Brendan comes out, closely followed by Siobhan. He clasps Peter's hand: Peter, I don't know what to say, although I can't say it comes as a complete surprise.

Peter: Yeah, well, I think it's been coming on for a long time.

Brendan: This has something to do with Assumpta, doesn't it?

Peter nods to, smiles at, and shakes hands with extras as they pass. Seriously (to Brendan): My decision to step down is just as I said, one that concerns only myself. Although, yes, Assumpta is part of the equation.

Brendan: Right, we'll have to talk later.
Brendan steps past.

Siobhan steps up, shakes his hand, solemnly: Good-bye, Father... Peter.

Peter, smiles, sincerely: Good-bye, Siobhan. Thank you. I'll see you later.
Peter continues greeting extras.

SCENE: Morning. Niamh and Ambrose's kitchen interior.

Assumpta is sitting at the table having a cup of tea.

Niamh comes storming in wearing her church clothes, carrying Kieran. Ambrose follows.

Niamh, upset: Assumpta! What is going on?

Assumpta, unsure: Niamh, hi, what do you mean?

Niamh: Father Clifford just announced that he's leaving the church!

Assumpta looks pleased yet uncomfortable: Oh.

Niamh: What do you know about this?

Assumpta looks at Ambrose.

Ambrose: You'd better come clean, Assumpta. The rumor mill's already grinding.

Assumpta, resignedly: You're right, I know. Yes, I knew about Peter's decision...

Niamh interrupts: And you didn't say anything?!

Assumpta: I only just found out this week, just before the fire, and then there was so much work to do and we wanted to keep everything quiet until Peter could speak to the whole parish today.

Niamh: WE? So you're involved in this as well?

Assumpta, taken aback: Well, yes, I guessed everyone kind of knew...

Niamh: Knew what? That you were having an affair with a priest?

Assumpta: Now hold on, that's not how it is, and you know it.

Niamh: Obviously I don't know anything. I mean, I could tell that you and Father Clifford had a special sort of friendship, but I never...Assumpta Fitzgerald, this time you have gone too far. You're still a married woman!

Assumpta, shocked: Niamh, you are blowing this all out of proportion.

Doorbell rings. Ambrose, relieved: I'll get that.
Ambrose leaves.

Kieran starts fussing. Niamh, Kieran on her hip, ignores Assumpta, goes to the refrigerator and gets out a bottle, sets about warming it with much banging of doors and pans.

Ambrose appears in the doorway with Peter behind him wearing civil, clears his throat: Um, Father Clifford's here.

Peter, quietly: Peter, please.

Ambrose looks uncomfortable: Yes, sorry.

Peter enters, looks from Niamh to Assumpta, hesitantly: Have I come at a bad time?

Niamh glares at him, bangs a pan.

Assumpta, with humor: Niamh was just telling me about your performance this morning.

Peter, attempting a joke: That bad, was it?

Assumpta: I think now would be a good time to make a quick exit.
She stands up, starts toward the door (to Niamh): I'll just get my things.

Peter looks surprised.

Niamh sets Kieran into his feeding chair, softening: I'm sorry, Assumpta, I didn't mean you had to leave.

Ambrose, quickly: No, Assumpta, of course, you're welcome to stay on.

Assumpta: I think we all need a bit of space.
Sharply: Don't worry about me. I always land on my feet.
She pushes past Ambrose and Peter, looks meaningfully at Peter as she passes, exits.

Peter looks helplessly from Ambrose to Niamh: I hope I haven't caused you any trouble.

Ambrose, apologetically: Not at all.

Niamh feeds Kieran, looks unhappy.

Awkward silence.

Niamh looks up at him, calmly: Just give us some time, Father...Peter

Peter nods, looks embarrassed: Of course.

SCENE: Daytime. Street between the garda post and Fitzgerald's.

Several onlookers are scattered along the street and sidewalk.

Assumpta and Peter emerge from the garda post, each carrying a satchel. They head across the street to where Assumpta's van is parked in front of Fitzgerald's. Assumpta opens the back and they deposit the bags inside. A black car (Leo's) pulls up in front of the van. Assumpta and Peter look around from the back to see who is there. They recognize Leo's car and give each other a look of foreboding. Both step around towards the front of the van, each on an opposite side. The car door opens and Leo gets out.

Leo, looking wildly from Assumpta to Peter to the burnt-out pub, loudly: Assumpta! What's going on?!
He points at the pub, excitedly: I had to read about the fire in the local weekly. I tried to ring you but your line was out of order. Are you OK?
He glares at Peter: What's the priest doing here?

Assumpta, soothingly: I'm fine. We're all fine. And Peter is helping me put some of my things in the car.

Leo: I'm the one who should be helping you. I am still your husband.

Assumpta, impatiently: Leo, I thought we were clear on how things stand between us.

Peter looks nervously at the pedestrians around them, approaches Leo and raises his hand in a calming gesture: Leo, I don't think this is the appropriate--

Leo interrupts, points at Peter, angrily: You stay out of this. This is between me and my wife.

Peter shuts up, raises his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Assumpta, harshly: We may still be married on paper, but that doesn't mean you have any claims on me.

Leo seethes: And does HE?

Assumpta, annoyed: Leave Peter out of this. This is between you and me.

Leo, gesturing with open arms, defensively: How can I leave him out of this? He's the cause of all this.

Peter reaches out his hand toward Leo again: Leo, please, can't we go somewhere and talk this over calmly?

Leo looks around at the onlookers, raises his voice, venomously: Why? Are you worried about having a scene? Worried about your reputation, Father Clifford?

Peter drops his hand, looks at Leo from beneath lowered eyelids.

Leo hisses: How can you call yourself a priest? It's obvious that you're in love with her, a married woman.

Peter, quietly: I don't call myself a priest. Not anymore.

Leo, disbelieving: What?

Assumpta: And I don't call myself a married woman anymore.

Peter, apologetically: Leo. We didn't want to hurt anyone.

Leo looks hurt. He looks at Assumpta: Is that how it is?

Assumpta looks uncomfortable: I'm afraid so. I'm really sorry, Leo. I do care for you.

Leo, bitterly: But not enough. Not like you do for him.

Assumpta and Peter give each other a tender look.

Leo avoids looking at Peter: Just answer me one thing. Were you in love with him when...
He can hardly bring himself to speak the words: ...when you married me?

Assumpta regards Peter silently for a moment. Both men watch her expectantly.

Assumpta keeps looking at Peter, answers Leo: I guess I was. I tried to push it out of my mind, but it was there all the time.

Peter looks tenderly touched.

Assumpta looks at Leo, pleads: I thought if...I thought maybe your love would be enough for both of us.

Leo mutters darkly: It would have been, too. You've mistreated me, Assumpta.

Peter, defensively: Leo, really, I don't think you're being fair--

Leo, with disgust: And you. God help you.
He walks back toward his car, yells over his shoulder: You'll be hearing from my solicitor.
He gets into his car, slams the door, and drives away furiously.

Peter and Assumpta look at the crowd of curious onlookers that has gathered.

Assumpta, loudly: Have you no homes to go to?

The onlookers continue to stare.

Peter (to Assumpta): Come on, let's go.

He walks toward the passenger's side, she toward the driver's side.

Assumpta, out of sight on driver's side: Oh, for the love of...

Cut to closeup of van's front tyre. It is flat.

Peter comes around to driver's side, sees tyre, looks around at people watching them. He looks grim.

Assumpta notices him looking around and follows his gaze to the spectators. She looks back at him, looks grim as well.

SCENE: Late afternoon. Overcast. Peter's car interior.

Peter is driving down a country road. Assumpta is on the passenger's seat.

Peter, eyes on the road, seriously: This isn't how I wanted it to be.

Assumpta also looks at the road: You think I did?

Peter glances at her, gently: That's not what I meant.

Assumpta closes her eyes, leans her head back on the headrest, wearily: I know.

Peter: Just give them some time. They'll cool off.

Assumpta looks at him incredulously: You don't know them like I do. They'll still throw punches over whose fault it was that Cork lost to Limerick in the '93 playoffs.

Peter, joking: But that's sport. Much more important than love or religion.

Assumpta shakes her head, seriously: No, that's just it. It's all sport. Who plays by the rules and who doesn't. You and I are breaking all of their rules. That's not so easily forgiven, and it certainly won't be forgotten.

They drive on in silence for a moment.

Assumpta, abruptly: Where are we going?

Peter pulls the car over to the side of the road: Right here.
He turns off the engine and pulls the parking brake. It looks like they are in the middle of nowhere.

Assumpta looks out the window, skeptically: What's here?

Peter removes his seat belt, shifts in his seat to face her: You and I. And no distractions.

He looks down and takes her hands in his.

Peter: Assumpta. It's taken us a long time to get here. Now I'd like to make it clear where we're going.
He smiles tenderly, reaches up and touches her cheek with one hand: I love you. I want to have a life with you.

Assumpta closes her eyes, leans against his hand, lips slightly parted. She turns her head slightly and kisses his hand. She opens her eyes, looking down. She slowly raises her eyes to meet his. They hold the look for several seconds. His hand remains on her cheek. Then Peter starts to lean in and at the same time gently turns her face toward his. Both look nervous. They get closer, their eyes directed toward each other's lips. Then their eyes close just as their lips gently touch.

Without letting go of the kiss, Assumpta releases her seat belt and turns her body to face Peter. She reaches up and puts her hand on the back of his neck. They hold the kiss for several seconds. As their lips part, they open their eyes and look briefly into each other's eyes, then Peter closes his eyes again and nuzzles against her cheek and neck.

Finally Peter takes a deep breath and sits back, reluctantly.

Assumpta slowly opens her eyes, breathless: Wow. Are you sure you've been celibate for the past...how many years?

Peter, self-conscious: Oh, yes, I'm quite sure. Beginner's luck.

Assumpta, a smile playing on her lips, teasingly: Well let me try you again.

They both lean in for another kiss, harder and longer.

As they break the kiss, they rest their foreheads together.

Assumpta, appreciatively: Beginner's luck nothing, you're a natural.

Peter: Assumpta, I think we should wait.

Assumpta waits a few seconds, swallows, pulls her head back, nods, breathless: I understand. I mean...
yes, I agree.

Peter picks up her hand in his: I want to do the right thing.

Assumpta sits back, looks out the window again, seriously: That's what I want, too. But I'm not so sure that BallyK is the place to do it anymore.

Peter, confused: What do you mean?

Assumpta looks into his eyes: You've seen what we're up against.

Peter, dismissively: Forget about them. Who cares? Our friends are what counts. If you're thinking of Niamh, you heard what she said. She just needs a little time to adjust. This comes as quite a shock to their system of order.
He continues brightly: And Brendan and Siobhan seemed quite supportive.

Assumpta, earnestly: Peter, we would have to live in and make a living in this community. You can't isolate yourself and run a bar.

Peter looks out the window at the landscape, wryly: Well, I don't think my previous employer would take me back.

Assumpta looks out the window, too, distractedly: Brian Quigley came to see me the other day.

SCENE: Daytime. On a hillside overlooking the lake. Wide angle.

Siobhan, Brendan, Dr. Ryan, Padraig, Niamh, Ambrose are sitting around on rocks, chatting. Kieran is in his carrier. There are a couple of coolers with drinks.

Peter and Assumpta climb up the slope together, hand in hand, smiling, to join the group.

The others smile and wave, beckoning them over. They are warmly greeted. Handshakes, hugs, and pats on the back all around.

CUT TO: Hilltop.

Assumpta and Peter are sitting on rocks in the midst of their friends, holding hands.

Brendan: So where will you go?

Peter: We thought we'd head up Dublin way.

Assumpta: Yeah, I've got some contacts up there who might give us some tips on getting something started.

Siobhan, bemused: I can't believe you sold out to Brian Quigley. Pretty soon he'll own the whole main road.

Niamh, chidingly: I'll keep my eye on him, don't you worry.

Assumpta: And I didn't sell to him outright. I've retained ownership of the building. He's just leasing the space.

Peter, smiling: Yeah, he'll have all the hard work to do, and we can sit back and wait for the rent check. Not such a bad deal.

Brendan, seriously: You don't need to leave, you know. You've got friends here.

Peter, hopefully: And I hope we'll still have friends here. You never know when we might be back.

Niamh, tearing up: I'll miss you.

Ambrose, firmly: We all will.

Murmurs of assent all around.

Niamh: Promise you'll let us know when you set a date?

Siobhan: Yeah, no running off and eloping on us now.

Peter and Assumpta look down, abashed.

Peter looks around: There's still quite a bit of red tape to get through, but we'll keep you all posted.

Everybody is quiet for a moment.

Assumpta, rolling her eyes: My God, the way you all are carrying on, you'd think we were off to Timbuktu. Lighten up, me hearties. We've got cold beer and warm hands, so let's have a little merriment.

Peter holds up a glass: Our friends!

All join in the toast: Our friends!

ROLL CREDITS

With Marge's encouragement, after After the Smoke Clears. (Written by Thea)

    Niamh had come to Dublin to see how Assumpta was faring away from
home.  She found the pub where her friend was working without
trouble, and as she opened the door, her son in her arms, she heard
Assumpta singing before she saw her. When Assumpta raised her head
from the chores she was doing, she stopped in mid-note and smiled
with pleasure as she held out her arms for Kieran, who came to her
willingly.  "Oh, little man, I've missed you," she cooed at him. "You
too, Niamh," she said with a grin.

    "Oh, girl, you can't imagine how much I miss you!  I have no one to
really talk to!"

    Assumpta poured two cups of coffee from the pot she'd just made. "Sit
here and talk to me now!" she said. "Tell me all the news, all the
gossip, all about how your Dad is turning my bar into a money
factory!"

    "No, first you tell me how you are."

    "I'm wonderful," she said, "I can't tell you how happy I am. How
happy we both are."

    "You look happy, you really do.  So this was the right move, was it?"

    "Oh, yes."  Two customers came in, and Assumpta handed the baby back
and went to serve them, but she quickly returned. "Niamh, I know you
were angry at me, and at Peter too, but I hope you've gotten over
that."

    "I have, of course," the other replied, "but now I'm ready and I want
to hear the whole story, all the things I didn't hear."

    "Like what?" There was a touch of the old suspicious, prickly
Assumpta.

    "Like when you fell in love with Peter, like why you married Leo,
like what made everything change."

    Assumpta hesitated. It was only to Peter that she had finally
confessed how long she'd struggled with her feelings for him. It was
not in her nature to talk about these things, not even with Niamh.
But her friend waited, looking as though she had all the time in the
world.

    She took a deep breath. "I think I was slowly falling in love with
Peter from the first. I fought it, I pushed those feelings away. I
thought....no, I KNEW it was impossible.  ME, in love with a priest?
Ridiculous!"

    "But it wasn't, was it?"

    "I didn't know he was going through the same thing."

    "Brendan said he knew at least a year ago how Peter felt about you,
that he even tried to push the two of you together a few times."

    "Well, I certainly didn't know! There were a couple of times when I
thought he did care....but I never thought he would change his whole
life for me."

    "He did though, didn't he?"

    Assumpta looked off into the distance, a look of pure joy in her eyes, a
look Niamh was stunned by. She'd never seen Assumpta look so happy,
and for a moment she felt a touch of envy.  Did she ever feel such
total happiness herself, she wondered.

    She put out her hand and touched Assumpta's. "I'm glad you're happy," she said.  She looked
down at Kieran, who was yawning. "Is there a place I can change this
fella, and maybe get him to sleep for a bit?"

    "Sure," Assumpta said. "I live upstairs, just like at home. I'll get
my boss to cover for me."

    She went into the kitchen and returned with
a young woman she introduced as Sarah, the old friend who had given
her a job.  Then she led Niamh up the stairs, and unlocked the door
to her room.  Niamh laid the baby down on the bed and got out a
bottle and a bag of nappies.

    "This is home, then?" she asked, looking around the small room. "One room for the two of ye?"
 

    Assumpta's eyes narrowed. "What?"

    Niamh looked up innocently. "What what? Aren't you and Peter living
together?  I mean, you've been....I mean,you have,haven't you?  For a
long time now?"

    "Well, I'm glad to know what you think of me, Niamh, but I thought
you knew the sort of man Peter is.  And if YOU think we've been
sleeping together for years, I can just imagine what the rest of the
village thinks!  So that ends our plans to come home after we get
married!" She wen to the door and said curtly, "Take your time here,
I'm going back to work."

    Her hands were shaking and the famed Fitzgerald temper was way up.
She stomped down the stairs and began collecting dirty glasses,
taking them into the kitchen. Sarah knew better than to ask
questions, deciding it was the better part of wisdom to protect her
clientele from an angry Assumpta.

    When Niamh came down, Kieran asleep on her shoulder, she saw that it was hopeless to try to
explain herself, and she decided to leave, thinking maybe she could
do better if she wrote to Assumpta.  As she pushed open the door,
Peter came in, as he usually did after the school day had
ended.

    "Niamh! he exclaimed, grabbing her arm and kissing her
cheek. "What a great surprise!  You weren't leaving without seeing
me, were you?"
 

    "I think I'd better," she said, and he saw the tears in her
eyes. "I've upset Assumpta. I didn't mean to, but...."
 

    "Go over there and sit down," he said. "Let me talk to her, and then
I'll come to see you, and Kieran." She hesitated. "Go on," he said,
pushing her gently to a corner table, before going into the kitchen.
 

    Niamh looked at Sarah, who shrugged as they heard the sound of raised
voices.  After a while, Peter came out and sat and talked with her,
and when Kieran woke, he held him and played with him.  But they
didn't discuss what had happened, and when Assumpta came out to the
bar, she ignored them.  There was no more singing.
 

    Peter saw Niamh to her car, helped settle Kieran into his car seat
and tried to reassure her. "It'll be all right, Niamh,don't worry.
I'll talk to her. And do write her a letter, it may help. Give my
regards to Ambrose, and everyone else, and tell them we're fine."
 

    "Okay," she said morosely, and drove off home.

    Peter went to his flat and marked papers, keeping busy till late in
the evening, when he usually went back to the pub to have some time
with Assumpta after closing.When he got there, Sarah told him that
she'd not felt well and went up early, but that she'd left the door
unlocked. He went up the stairs and quietly opened the door. She was
lying in bed, with the lamp out,but in the bright moonlight he could
see that she was awake.  He sat down on the edge of the bed and
stroked her hair.

    "Feeling better?" he asked.

    She sighed. "I had a headache, and a bad case of sadness.  We can't ever go back, Peter,
you do realize that? We'd never get over the scandal. Remember that
they're like."
 

    "No, I don't agree.  Assumpta, I think you're overreacting. Maybe
Niamh can straighten out how everyone is thinking about us now.
Almost everyone, anyway.  We;ve always known how some people think."
 

    "But our friends, I didn't think they would have the same opinions as
Kathleen Hendley and Father Mac," she said. "I don't know...." She
reached up and pulled him down to lie next to her, and she turned to
kiss him. "Peter, since everyone thinks we're sleeping together, why
don't we just....?"
 

    "Because we've promised ourselves we would wait until we were both
freed from our vows. And that will be soon. Assumpta, I want to make
love as much as you....more, maybe.  You can't imagine.....But we owe
it to ourselves to wait.  However, my love," he pulled away for a
moment to look into her eyes, "if you need me to sleep with you
tonight, I will. Hold you and sleep with you, that is."
 

    She stretched her arms over her head, and regarded him with a
smile. "Nothing more?"
 

    He smiled back. "Not tonight," he said, "so go to sleep."
 

    "Killjoy," she said, snuggling against him as he put his arms around
her.
                                #

(I know that I've been one of those who had different scenarios for
them, but why be consistent?"

    It was morning, and Assumpta was cleaning up after the breakfast
crowd, when the door swung open and Peter came up to the bar. He
leaned over and kissed her quickly.  "I have a whole day of surprises
for you," he said.
 

    "Oh yeah?  What kind of surprises?" she said with a mock frown.
 

    "Well it's a school closing and I asked Sarah to give you the day off
as well.  I have tickets to the new play at the Abbey....and Brendan
and Siobhan are coming to see us, dinner and the play included!"
 

    A smile, a big smile. "Ah, you're so good to me."
 

    "I try," he said, "in my modest way."
 

    "But did you ever think that I'd rather have a day just with you,
someplace quiet and cozy?"  She batted her eyes at him.
 

    "Assumpta....."
 

    She came around to his side of the bar and put her arms around
him. "I know," she said. "But Peter, sometimes I worry that it will
always be this way, that you have gotten so used to a celibate life,
that I'll be asking and you'll be saying no.....for the rest of my
life!  I don't think I can stand it."
 

    "Assumpta," he said into her ear. "You'll see soon how wrong you are."
 

    "I mean....what if I died?  Would you be sorry that we didn't ever
make love?"
 

    "Assumpta, that is a totally specious argument and I won't entertain
it for a moment!  You are not going to die, so just be patient and
you'll see."
 

    "You're that sure....that we will be good together?"
 

    "Oh, yes," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders and giving her
a little shake. "Now come on, won't you be glad to see Brendan?
Siobhan?  A play?"

    "Yeah, yeah, yeah," she said. "I'll just go and change. You're sure
you cleared this with Sarah?"

    They were to meet their friends at a restaurant near the river, and
earlier they had taken a long walk through Grafton Street, window-
shopping and enjoying the energy of all the young people that
thronged the avenue. And they'd gone to Assumpta's favorite
museum,one she remembered from her college days in Dublin. It had
been a great day, she thought, as she slipped her arm through his. As
soon as they entered the restaurant, she saw Siobhan, in a smart
maternity outfit, and for a moment, she felt choked up, realizing how
much she missed Ballykissangel.

    "Siobhan!" she said, hugging her friend.  Two arms encircled her and she twisted round to
exclaim, "Brendan!  Oh Brendan! It's so good to see you. Both of you!"

    Peter hugged them too, and they stood there, smiling a bit foolishly,
all four happy to be together after so many months.  Once seated at
their table, they began to catch up on news of one another and of the
village.

    "Assumpta, I miss seeing you behind the bar. Brian is such
an ass, and even when Niamh's in charge, it's just not the same."

    "And the new priest doesn't hold a candle to you, Peter," Siobhan
said. "He's shy and a bit of a stick.  So don't think it's just your
girlfriend here that we miss."  She looked longingly at the wine the
others were sipping,but tpok a drink of her water.  "Have you heard
about Niamh coming down hard on the gossip about you two?"
 

    "Niamh did?"  Assumpta looked surprised.
 

    "Oh, she did indeed.  She waited one Sunday, till after mass, when
Hendley's store was fairly busy, and she came in and told me in this
loud, clear voice that she'd been to Dublin to see you. Kathleen
sniffed like she'd smelled something bad, and Father Mac was standing
there and harrumphed a bit, you know like he does.  She turned to him
and said, 'Father, you of all people know what an honorable man
Father Clifford is, and I want you to know that they aren't living
together, him and Assumpta, and that they're waiting till they're
both free!' Then she turned to me and said 'Siobhan, aren't you as
sick as I am about the way evil tongues in this town spread malicious
rumors?  I for one want them to come back, to get married and raise a
family here.' I looked at her said as loudly, 'I'm with you on that,
Niamh, and I'll do what I can to squelch those rumors!'  And it was
quiet for a minute and then a couple of other people said they
agreed, and one old lady said for Niamh to tell you that we'd welcome
you back.  Niamh smiled and flounced out the door."
 

    "Well, good for you....and Niamh," Peter said, looking hard at
Assumpta, who looked back at him and said, "Okay,okay, I'll write and
thank her."