AN - I've recently jumped back into BallyK fanfic and I felt the need to give back to all the authors who have entertained me over the past couple of months. This is not the story I first wanted to give you but there is more about that as an end note.
Peter had faced a lot of different emotions on approaching the pub over the past 3 years, but this was definitely a new feeling, or perhaps a large, volatile cocktail of a lot of old ones. It was a Friday night so it was likely that more than just the regulars would be in there, or at least so he hoped, he wasn't ready to face Assumpta alone quite yet, the image of the last time he had seen her, tears in her eyes, still haunted him. The 6 weeks he had spent away from Ballykissangel had changed everything and yet surprisingly little at the same time. Steeling himself Peter opened the blue door and strode through.
There was a few moments before anyone in the room noticed the newcomer. Peter breathed in the familiar air and tension left him on the exhale. He was home. St Joseph's may have been what brought him to the village, but it was here in Fitzgerald's that he felt most welcomed, on a stool amongst the locals who no longer noticed the strange accent and accepted him not for the collar (and in some cases despite it) but as a friend.
Leaving would have been one of the hardest things he had to do. Counselling sessions at the retreat had strongly favoured that course of action, a new community, a new and more sympathetic supervisory priest. Going as far as suggesting - although not in exact words - that maybe with a more 'modern' parish Peter wouldn't feel the need to rebel and could get back onto the straight and narrow of priestly behaviour. Peter had nearly been convinced by the arguments until the morning he had woken from a dreamed memory of the first time he and the residents of BallyK had fought to keep him there, two voices still ringing in his ears. His own voice telling Father Mac "I like it here" and Assumpta's "I'll miss you if you decide to go." After that leaving was an option he would not accept. Whatever was to be done about his conflicts it had to be something that would allow him to go home to Ballykissangel.
The regulars were dotted around the pub and there were enough more casual customers that his main purpose would be achieved tonight. Assumpta was leaning against the kitchen door frame staring blankly at the bar, her thoughts clearly elsewhere, in the end it was Brendan who noticed him first.
"Peter! So the wanderer returns to us" The rest of the locals looked up and offered their own greetings, while Assumpta jumped and stared at him, eyes wide and following Peter as he made his way around the room shaking hands and answering people's enquiries as he made his way up to his usual spot at the bar.
Brian slapped Peter on the back as he leaned against the polished wood. "Assumpta get Father Clifford whatever he wants on me." Assumpta took a hesitant step towards the taps with a questioning raised eyebrow in Peter's direction. For the first time in over a month their eyes met and Peter smiled widely at her.
"Thank you Brian, just the usual thanks Assumpta." The pint was placed in front of him as Siobhan distracted him with a question. "There's no tan on you so I assume the rumours about the Costa del Sol were wrong"
"'Fraid so" Peter took a sip of his larger and noticed with disappointment that Assumpta had retreated to her previous position by the kitchen door. "Nothing quite so exotic as that, I was up at a Catholic centre near Dublin"
"So what, you were getting a refresher course in Catholicism? Logging in a few extra prayer hours – it's a good priest we've got then," Padraig chuckled at his own joke and raised his glass to Peter.
"Something like that yeah, but it was more like a vocational physical, making sure I'm teaching the right lessons, taking confessions correctly, believing what I'm meant to believe, following all the right rules to be a priest."
Through all this Brendan had been watching Peter carefully, "you passed this physical though didn't you? Peter, you're the best priest we've ever had, of course they'd let you keep being a priest, why on earth would you have to go on retreat to prove that?"
Peter Clifford took a long pull of his beer and stood to his full height, determinately not looking at Assumpta when he made his announcement, "you're right Brendan, they'd let me stay in the church, but I'm not the priest- not the man I was a few years ago and I've been increasingly uncomfortable and conflicted in my vocation, so after a lot of prayer and counselling, 3 weeks ago I made the decision to leave the priesthood."
There was a uniform gasp across the pub, but Peter denied himself looking around to see Assumpta's reaction to his news.
An unfamiliar voice carried across the onset of murmurs in the pub "3 weeks ago? Apparently a lot of life-changing events were happening then, weren't they love?"
At that, Peter turned and spotted the face that was more familiar than the voice. His arm wrapped around the waist of an obviously shocked Assumpta, Leo McGarvey was broadly grinning at the top of the publican's head.
With an air of confusion, Peter turned more fully towards the couple behind the bar, "Leo? Are you back in town for a story or just visiting?" Assumpta's face moved from shocked to guilty and she ducked her head.
"Bit more permanent than that actually, this lovely lady and I were married, 3 weeks ago actually, quite the coincidence don't you think."
Peter's only clear thought was that it was a good thing he had left his beer on the bar otherwise it would be shattered on the floor by now. All other words and thoughts were clamouring inside his head in a cacophony of white noise. He worked his mouth, but nothing came out. Peter shook his head and tried again.
"3 weeks? I didn't know you were seeing each other again?"
"Ah you know Father – sorry, Peter, she came to see me in London a month ago and I just couldn't pass up another chance to be hers. I mean how many opportunities like that would a man get in one lifetime?"
Peter almost reeled from that blow, he turned astonished eyes onto Assumpta's still averted face, "You're probably right Leo, most men would always hope for just one more opportunity no matter how many chances they had already been given."
It was small but if you were watching for it Assumpta's wince was visible. Her head came up with a hurt but defiant glare that she sent Peter's way although her voice was deceptively soft, "Ah but Peter you said yourself, you couldn't stick to the absolution and unconditional forgiveness game anymore. If you couldn't do it there's no chance for us lesser mortals," she straightened even further and her words became sharper, "there comes a time when That. Is. It."
This time it was Peter who broke their locked gaze and he offered a conciliatory smile as the barb hit home and stepped up to his drink again. His hand shook slightly as he raised the glass. Peter had always known that saying three little words to Assumpta would change his life. He just hadn't known those words would be "That. Is. It."
Final AN- I'm so sorry, I don't usually write such angsty stuff, this is exactly the type of story that I'm shouting "why would you do that!" at the computer. But this idea popped into my head and wouldn't let me keep writing the other (much nicer) Peter goes on retreat story that I'm working on.
As far as I know this is all there will be of this story mainly because I don't know how to get them out of the corner they put themselves in without it getting horribly cliched.