He tried to stop her but he didn't have the strength. Kissing her had been instinctive not planned and as he watched her run out of the kitchen and heard the slam of the door he knew he'd ruined everything. He slumped into the kitchen chair, tears slipping down his face, and rested his head on the table. He'd thought of nothing but her for so long that he couldn't remember a time when she hadn't been the first thing he'd thought of when he woke in the morning or a time when she didn't fill his every dream. He'd been confused yes, tormented definitely, but just the sight of her smile across the bar, her quiet laugh, even the way her eyes shone when she barred whoever had most recently offended her had made him happy in a way he'd never before known. And now it was over. What had he done?
He sat until he had no more tears to shed, then pulled himself up and dragged his sleeve over his eyes. Working on auto pilot he finished his entry for the food fair, knowing he would not be there, washed the dishes, and waited for Niamh and Ambrose to return. As he sat his mind went back to Fitzgeralds. What was she doing? Thinking? He didn't think he'd ever forget the look in her eyes as she pushed him away and he hated himself for causing her pain. He had to explain himself, to make what feeble apology he could knowing it would never be enough. His mind raced as he tried to find the words that might let her know how deeply he felt, how much he loved her, how he didn't know how he could live without her but they would not come. Nothing seemed good enough. He paced the hall and as he heard a car pull up outside and the front door handle turn he rushed out shouting a hurried goodbye to Niamh and Ambrose who watched after him in confusion as he ran down the road.
"I wonder what's wrong with him" Niamh said. "Maybe his cooking didn't agree with him" laughed Ambrose spying the boxes neatly stacked on the side board. Niamh giggled, the evening out had been fun. It had been good to spend some time alone with Ambrose and she had felt young and carefree again. She doubted he was right about Father Peter but watching him disappear round the corner she decided not to dwell on it. "Come on love" she said "Let's have a night cap" and shut the door.
Peter raced to the pub still not knowing what he was going to say but sure that he couldn't leave things as they were but, as he got to the door, he froze. Assumpta was sat alone at the bar in the fading light a large glass of wine in her hand. The crowd had been somewhat surprised when she'd come storming back and thrown them all out. Brendan had tried to find out what was wrong but even he knew when to bite his tongue and had left with Padraig and Siobhan to see if there was any brandy left in his much raided drinks cabinet.
Peter's hand rested on the door as he watched her through the window. She sighed and turned slightly. He hid in the shadows and his heart broke for the second time that night at the sight of the pain he had caused. Fresh tears welled in his eyes and unable to face her his head dropped and he walked away.
Assumpta gasped as she caught sight of him but he was already gone. He must have come to remind her he was a priest again she thought bitterly. Slamming the now empty glass down on the counter she stood, planning to storm out after him demanding to know what he thought he was doing. He couldn't just kiss her like that, make her feel like that, more alive than she'd felt in years and expect her just to forget it. But something held her back and instead she reached for the bottle and drained the last of the wine into her glass. She couldn't face the rejection again and couldn't trust herself not to break down at the sight of him. Draining the glass she carried it into the kitchen and turned off the light. As she did so she heard the bang in the cellar, the fuse again. That could wait till the morning she thought as she climbed the stairs.