Niamh sat back down in the chair for what felt like the fiftieth time that afternoon. It'd only been an hour, and she was already restless.
Calm yourself, woman, she told herself. You're not helping.
She watched Assumpta's chest rise and fall with each breath; the breath the patrons of Fitzgerald's on that horrifying night had thought had been snuffed out for good. That was, until Niamh had received a frantic phone call from a hysterical Ambrose screaming down the phone that she was alive. Niamh lost it at that point. She fell to the floor of Fitzgerald's, sobbing, barely aware that someone had taken the phone from her hand. She vaguely recalled Brendan screaming out across the bar that Assumpta was alive. He'd run out of the bar like a crazed man, shouting down the street that she was alive, waking half the town. Siobhan had sat on the floor next to her, cradling her head while she cried tears of joy and relief. Assumpta wasn't dead. Her friend was alive. Brian had eventually picked her up and taken her home, putting her to bed with two large aspirin, but she awoke when Ambrose came home. He was shaken by everything; the doctor had pronounced her dead, the ambulance had taken her away only a few minutes later, and yet…
Of course, the questions came thick and fast the next day; the bar was full of discussion around Assumpta and the apparent miracle. Niamh recalled the conversation in the bar the next afternoon, when Dr Ryan had come in for coffee, looking a little worse for wear, having spent most of the night and that morning at the hospital.
'What happened, Michael?' Brendan had asked, his tone serious. Michael had shaken his head, his face blank.
'I don't know, Brendan. She was dead in that basement,' he said, his voice heavy.
'I know. I was the one giving her mouth to mouth,' Brendan had replied.
'We all saw the medic arrive and pronounce her dead,' Siobhan had added, matter-of-factly.
'What happened, Michael? What happened in the back of that ambulance?' Brian had asked quietly. The whole bar sat in silence. Michael shook his head, his voice serious.
'A miracle, Brian. A miracle. And I think the only person who can answer that better than I can isn't interested in discussing it.'
Niamh sighed, the beeping of the monitors dragging her back into the present. She was grateful, so grateful, her friend was alive. She silently gave thanks for the thousandth time that day. God knew she was thankful. She sat back against the chair, watching the heart rate monitor go up and down with Assumpta's heartbeat.
She was lost in thought when a sudden movement jolted her back to reality. She leapt forward in her chair; Assumpta's eyelids had flickered.
Assumpta was vaguely aware of the same irritating beeping noise as she slowly floated back to consciousness. She opened her eyes slowly, blinking several times, still feeling groggy. She needed to get that beeping seen to, whatever it was. Peter will sort it, she thought.
'Peter?' she asked, still blinking slowly.
She turned and lifted her head slightly to see Niamh's concerned and somewhat surprised face hovering over the bed. Assumpta blinked several times, willing her mind out of the fog it was happily swimming through.
'Niamh?'
Niamh shook her head quickly and smiled. 'Oh, you're awake,' she replied quietly. Assumpta didn't understand.
'Niamh, what's going on?' she asked, noticing her voice still sounded like she was wading through treacle. Niamh's smile faded a little.
'You had an accident, Assumpta,' she offered, eyeing her friend carefully for any sign of panic. Assumpta just blinked at her.
'Accident?' Niamh nodded.
'The pub is being rewired as we speak,' she said carefully. Assumpta let her head fall back on the pillow. The pub…the fuse-box…she remembered.
Mrs McGarvey…
'Leo!' she said suddenly, giving Niamh a fright. Niamh made soothing noises, rubbing her shoulder.
'He's gone home to get changed, Assumpta. He'll be back soon, I promise.' Assumpta just stared at her, trying to make sense of it all.
'Why?'
Niamh frowned. 'Assumpta, he's still your husband,' she replied. Assumpta blinked a few times, the memories slowly working their way back into place - the river…the lake…Niamh's kitchen…Peter's face when she'd returned, married…
'Yeah,' she said, looking up at the ceiling. She needed time. Time to think. But she was so tired…
Where was Peter?
'You've burnt your hand, and your foot,' Niamh offered, trying to change the subject. 'But they're healing nicely, the doctors say.' Assumpta looked back at her.
'What else?' she asked groggily. Niamh frowned, unwilling to speak. 'Niamh, please…'
'Your heart took quite a beating, Assumpta. You're going to need some time off,' she said carefully. Assumpta groaned. 'You need to take it easy, Assumpta. You have to rest. You've already…' Niamh paused. 'You're on a lot of medication.' Niamh said gingerly. Assumpta looked back up at the ceiling.
'How long…?' she asked.
'Ten days,' Niamh replied quietly. Assumpta's eyes widened.
'Ten days?' she said, trying to raise her head from the pillow.
'Assumpta, everything is fine. I'm running the bar, and Brendan is helping out on the weekends. It's fine, Assumpta. Lie back down before I call the nurse,' she threatened, when Assumpta continued to try to move. Assumpta gave up, lying back down on the pillow. 'Assumpta, please just rest.'
Assumpta closed her eyes again, willing the darkness to swallow her, and the confused chaos she was in. It did, willingly.
Niamh sat back against the chair, twirling the straw in her fingers.
Assumpta had called Peter's name in her sleep. Again. She knew she'd done it before; the nurse had told her as much when she'd come in to check her vitals. Niamh couldn't imagine what that had done to Leo. Niamh knew they had separated, but Assumpta hadn't confided in her much more than that. Not that that was new; Assumpta had always played her cards close to her chest, and particularly when it came Leo.
And Peter.
Niamh wasn't stupid, and nor was she blind. She knew Assumpta's relationship with Peter had changed; the final confirmation had been in the basement that night. It didn't take a genius to realise that the relationship between the Priest and the Publican was not the conventional one.
She wondered how much Leo knew, or had guessed. She suspected he'd figured out more than enough; more than he'd wanted to know. And she suspected he'd known for a while.
But Peter was gone now, and had not indicated an intention to return.
Niamh wondered if anyone's heart would be left unscathed by the time this was over.
A slightly shorter one this time. This is going to be quite a story, in case you hadn't already picked that up... If there are any glaring plot errors, please feel free to let me know and I'll do my best to correct them.
As always, any and all feedback is much appreciated.