In the arms of his princess
Chapter1
Her complexion was white as a sheet, almost transparent. He gently touched her cheek, it felt icy cold. He wanted to take her in his arms and give her his warmth, tell her how much he loved her and everything would be all right, but he realized that was never going to happen. She was gone, dead, just like that. And he had to learn to live with it. How? Apart from all the grief, he was also consumed by guilt. The one thing she told him she didn't want, he did to her. He felt he had betrayed her. It's what you believe, Niamh had cried to him. But was it still what he believed? Maybe it was all just a bit of mumbo jumbo, like Brendan had said.
The wake had been confronting, but comforting and beautiful at the same time. Amongst their friends he had felt less lost and alone with his grief, as they treasured memories of her and had recited poems and sang songs, she would've loved. But at home, on his own, he just couldn't hold on to these feelings, no matter how hard he tried. Everyone else had someone there to comfort them, hug them, when they needed it, he had no one like that. Priests don't have that kind of friends. How ironic, he shrugged.
He had only performed Kieran's christening as a favour to Niamh and Ambrose. For most of the time, he had been on autopilot, though, thinking about her. Even in death, she kept occupying his mind. She would've been Kieran's godmother and she would've done a great job. She adored that baby, as did he. One day maybe, they would've… No, he couldn't bare thinking about that.
This should've been her day too. Siobhan had reluctantly taken her place. Life went on, after all, even without her.
He took one last look at the interior of his little cottage and then pulled the door shut behind him. No one would notice him leaving, they would all be celebrating at Brian's. He walked towards the bridge and looked at Fitzgerald's. The place should've been heaving today, with people celebrating Kieran's christening. All of a sudden it seemed to be lit up by the brightest of sunbeams. He was drawn towards it. Should he go inside?
Of course the front doors were locked. But he still had the key for the back door. She'd given it to him a long time ago, when he started making a habit of helping her clean up after closing time. When he entered the kitchen, he imagined Assumpta standing there, teary eyed at the sink, when he had told her that was it. How he wished he had acted differently that day and been honest with her. Would she still be alive? No, he told himself, it's no use thinking like that. There was nothing he could do to change the past and bring her back. He wasn't God and even God hadn't managed to do that. What or who was God even? Did he even exist?
He went up the stairs and found her room. Her scent still lingered there. At the side of her wardrobe hung a stunning long red dress, ready to be worn today. He couldn't resist touching it. Red was your colour, he whispered sadly. Now she would be wearing it into eternity, she would be buried in it. It's not right, he thought getting angry and all worked up inside, you should've been dancing the night away in this like a princess.
On her bedside table were a few pictures, but one captured his attention. It was a photo of him and her, taken last Christmas, looking at each other with beaming smiles, happy. He had never seen it and hadn't the faintest idea who had taken it.
He lay down on her bed, his head on her pillow, arms wrapped around it for comfort, inhaling her scent and putting it to memory, for fear of forgetting it. The tears came and he let them flow freely. The events of the past few days had tired him out completely and he drifted off to sleep.
A strong light awoke him. He blinked. Where was he? Then he remembered and reality hit him again. The feeling of loss and dread was back instantly. He looked towards the door. What he saw then startled him and made him sit up instantly. There she was, smiling at him in that beautiful red dress. It couldn't be. I'm hallucinating. I must be so exhausted, my mind is playing games with me, he thought. He closed his eyes and shook his head, but when he looked again she was still there.
"Peter!" She gently whispered his name as not to scare him even more. "It's me, Assumpta. You're not dreaming. This is real."
"But that's impossible, I saw you lying on that mortuary slab. I touched you, you were stone cold."
"What you saw, was my body lying there. I've come back to thank you Peter."
He was still confused and didn't understand. "What, why?"
" For giving me the last rites. You saved my immortal soul."
"But you told me you didn't want them."
"So I did. I never thought I'd be saying this, but it's a good thing you took Father Mac's advice for once. He was right Peter, it's not just a bit of mumbo jumbo."
"I thought I had betrayed you, I can't possibly describe how guilty I felt."
"You can stop that now. You haven't betrayed me."
"Can I touch you?" He asked hopeful.
She nodded. "You can."
He strode up to her, then hesitated for a while, afraid his mind was still playing tricks on him and she would disappear as soon as he tried to touch her. She looked up at him with so much love. He carefully reached out and his fingertips touched her cheek. "You're real," he said relieved. "Of course I am," she whispered. He then cupped her face in his hands and kissed her softly on the lips. She felt warm this time.
Chapter 2
He didn't know how long they had been lying there on her bed in each other's arms.
"Am I the only the only one who's able to see and feel you?"
"Yes. Unfortunately." She looked up at him and saw the disappointment in his eyes. "I'm so sorry Peter…. I love you." Although deep down he knew and he could see it in her eyes, it felt so good to finally hear her say it out loud. "I love you too," he whispered. They hugged even tighter.
He sighed. "I still can't quite capture all this. Is this forever, or are you going to fade for me as well?"
"I'm not going anywhere. I'm here to stay. If you'll have me. But there are a few conditions."
He sat up a bit and so did she. He then looked at her longingly and asked :"Being?"
"Well, firstly it means you can't leave Ballykissangel as I won't be able to come with you."
"I think I can manage that. I'd even move to Siberia if it meant I could be with you. What else?" She smiled at him.
" Secondly, I want you to take my funeral." Peter started to protest. This was a whole different matter.
But she then managed to reassure him. "I know you can do it. It will help you and our friends, trust me."
"Thirdly, I want you to look after this place." Again Peter started to object and he looked worried. Apart from stacking glasses, washing up and pulling the odd pint when Father Mac wasn't looking, he didn't know the slightest thing about running a pub. "I'll be here to help you, remember? And there's Niamh and the others too." She softly placed her hand on his cheek. "You will just have to learn to have faith again and believe in yourself." Funny, Assumpta of all people talking about having faith, he thought, raising an eyebrow while looking at her.
She continued. "And last but not least there's Fionn to be seen to. I'm so relieved Leo didn't take him and Kevin's taking care of him at the moment. He will be disappointed, but you could explain it is to help you feel less lonely. And he can still take him out as much as he likes. Don't worry about the legal matters. I've had all this written down in a will after I ended it with Leo. So how about it?" She looked at him expectantly.
"Well, you're asking a lot of me, but yes of course I'll do it." He teased.
And so it happened. Peter stayed.
It hadn't been too difficult to convince Father Mac for Peter to take Assumpta's funeral. Father Mac had understood.
She of course had been right. Peter taking the service had been a big comfort to all. However sad, he had done his utmost to turn it into the most beautiful service he had ever done. This time he hadn't been working on autopilot, as she had been there right next to him supporting him all the time. The day was warm, bright and sunny and full of love amongst friends. They buried her in her red dress next to her parents in the little churchyard.
The funeral had been his last task as a priest. From now on he would have another role in the community, continue what the Fitzgeralds had started all those years ago and the pub would be his home.
That night Peter danced the night away in the arms of his princess.