--- Changing Times ---

"Next Week." He struggled to remain where he was, watching her bite back tears.
"Thank you for telling me." She refused to look at him and feared even those few words would escape her lips in sobs. "At least I know I've made the right decision."
His resolve to be decided and firm, in her presence at least, was wavering dangerously. "What decision?"
"Assumpta! Customers!" Padraig's voice was barely muffled by the kitchen door.
"Excuse me, I've got customers." She desperately grasped at composure, leaving him alone in the kitchen.

He waited, hoping she'd return and give him an answer - what decision? Then he realized what he was really waiting for, hoping for... He let himself out the back door, paused on the step and took a deep breath. Four days, maybe five, and he'd be gone. Would anything change? Four days' test might give him some hint. Would he think of her less?

He did not return to Fitzgerald's that evening and for the next three days he was easily busy with his duties, visiting Ambrose, helping Niamh, babysitting Kiaran and wrapping things up in preparation for several weeks' absence.

The evening before he left he changed into his jeans, sat down to his dinner and tried, as he had all week, not to think of her. He'd not seen her since she walked out of her kitchen. He would be away three weeks. Four days had not been enough distance to remove her from his thoughts. Perhaps three weeks would. If not... He was so restless. He must find out what her decision was. He could not explain why it was so important. He ate quickly, put on his jacket and walked down to Fitzgerald's.

Assumpta put Niamh's drink on the bar, walked around and picked up Kiaran.
"Hello young man. How are you?" She smiled at the babies happy face, chubby and pink in all the right places. "Oh, I'm going to miss you."
"How long do you plan to be away?" Niamh drank fairly quickly, her eye on the clock, her mind on Ambrose's medication.
Assumpta shrugged. "Don't worry. I've never been able to stay away long."
"Where are you going?" Peter made his presence known. He stood awkwardly beside the next barstool.
"Good evening Father." Niamh said.
"Evening." He replied.
"Father." Assumpta went back behind the bar, carrying Kiaran. "It's alright Niamh, relax. What'll it be?"
"Oh, just a lager."
Assumpta nodded and poured the drink, putting it on the bar and busying herself entertaining Kiaran.
Peter sat down by Niamh and put his coins on the bar. "How's Ambrose doing?"
"Alright. Half an hour till his next medications are due and he was sleeping. Kiaran doesn't know why he has to be quiet so I thought he could entertain the punters here a while."
Assumpta went to put Kiaran back in the pram as customers entered.
Peter grinned, "May I?" On Niamh's nod he lifted Kiaran from his pram and bounced him on his knee.
Assumpta's attention was pulled back to them by Kiaran's laugh. Peter could feel her eyes on him and eventually looked at her. "So, you're leaving then?" His attempt at nonchalance, however misguided, had failed.
She nodded, now avoiding eye contact, nervous. She knew he was leaving tomorrow. She'd been hoping for and dreading his coming tonight. Similarly in tension, she wanted to leave things on good terms before their departures, and she wanted him to speak more honestly, more simply, than the code and suggestions that plagued their friendship. She was very much aware it was unlikely she could have it both ways.
Niamh soon got up to take Kiaran home. Assumpta watched Kiaran laugh at Peter and once Niamh was out of earshot she spoke. "Such wasted talent."
"Huh?" Peter picked up his lager and took a drink.
"You're a natural, but you'll not likely be a parent."
"No." He wasn't sure why he felt she'd asked a question.
"But I suppose it comes in handy - get 'em while they're young."
He smiled. Her tone was teasing, not cruel. He didn't want a fight and he wasn't going to walk into it with his eyes open. "So, where are you headed?"
"London." She folded a tea towel but didn't have to be looking at him to know he'd been as surprised as Niamh.
"Oh. Right. What's in London?"
"Friends, work, opportunity for further study - not sure exactly what I'm doing yet."
"Exciting."
"Scary."
He nodded. "Are you coming back?"
"I always do." She finally looked him in the eye. "I don't know. Probably."
Customers came in and Assumpta went off to serve them. Peter sipped his beer, occasionally turning to watch her. Brendan entered and joined him, asking him about his retreat, how long he'd be away. Assumpta eavesdropped when she returned to the bar, filling orders.
"Usual Brendan?" She finally ran out of other things to do.
"Thanks." He put his coin on the bar and Peter realised his was still there.
When she came back he held it out to her.
"It's on the house. Call it a goodbye present."
"But you're leaving too."
"What?" Brendan looked up from his stout.
"Oh, I thought - sorry." Peter put his money back in his pocket while Assumpta told Brendan of her plans and answered his questions.
"You better not stay away too long."
"It's okay. Niamh's going to run the bar. You'll still get your drinks."
"Not the same. Am I right Father?"
Peter hesitated, afraid he'd give too much away. He met Assumpta's eyes. "Yeah."
"Nice to know I'll be missed. Excuse me," She went to serve customers at the other end of the bar.
Eventually Brendan got up to go home. "I'll walk with you Father."
"Oh, ah," He turned in his stool, "Actually..."
"S'alright. Have another. Why not? If I don't see you before you go, have a safe trip. And don't go getting any ideas about going back to England. Assumpta'll come to her senses eventually."
He left, leaving Peter trying to understand what he'd meant. He looked around and realised the place was empty but for him. Standing, he went behind the bar and stood in the kitchen doorway, memories coming back to him in a rush. Assumpta was leaning forward, her hands on the bench, staring out the window into the night, taking deep, controlled breaths.
"You okay?"
She straightened but kept her back to him. "I'm fine." Far from convincing.
"Can I give you a hand?"
She shook her head. "You want to say goodbye?" When he hesitated she turned finally to face him.
"I s'pose. I wanted to apologise, and talk. But you're probably exhausted. Let me help with this." He turned on his heal, nervous and wanting something to keep his hands busy. In the bar he collected glasses together on the bar and wiped down a few tables.
Assumpta followed him through when she'd managed to get back her composure. She took the glassware from the bar through to the kitchen and started doing the dishes. What was there to talk about? He was helping for sure, but torturing her by his very presence, probably more so for his attempts at kindness and friendship.
When he picked up a tea towel to dry the dishes she was washing, she broke her silence. "What do you want Peter?"
He kept busy, thinking of his answer. "That's why I'm going away - to figure that out."
"So that's why."
"Yeah, to get some distance, put things in perspective."
"Nice way of saying running away."
He took a deep breath. "Maybe."
"I'm hardly one to talk I s'pose."
He hesitated, but he'd not have another chance. "Why are you going?"
"To see if there's something more for me than this. Distance, perspective, that sort of thing."
"And if there is?"
She sighed. "I don't know Peter. Something has to change."
He nodded. "Yeah." Several dishes later he continued. "I didn't want to leave like that - and I thought it would only be three weeks. This, I suppose, is even more of a catalyst."
"A catalyst for what?" She pulled the plug and watched the water drain away.
"Assumpta," he stopped and put down the glass.
She turned to him. "Just say it. Put it into words."
"This is very hard for me." His voice was about to give way and his face strained with the effort to keep his emotions under wraps.
She couldn't bare to see him in pain and gave in. "I know. I know. Perhaps a little distance is what we need."
"Perhaps."
"Leave them." She took the tea towel from his hand and hung it over the back of a chair.
He walked back through to the bar, picked up his jacket and turned to find she'd followed him. "Have a good trip."
"You too."
They both waited a moment in silence but neither would say more and neither dared initiate any kind of physical contact. With a simple nod Peter turned and left. Assumpta closed and locked the door, and only then did she let out the heavy sighs, so close to sobs, of confusion and frustration, escape her lips.