He had been having a rather pleasant dream until he smelled the unmistakable bouquet of dog breath. The humid waves of it in his face might as well have been a glass of ice water, for all the shock it gave him.
John groaned and pulled his pillow over his head, peeking out a few seconds later to see Lacy, his six year old Newfoundland, staring at him over the edge of his bed. He glanced at the red glow of the alarm clock.
"Chantilly Lace, it is four thirty-seven," he groused at her. "My alarm is set for five. You have to learn how to tell time, girl."
Lacy just sat back on her haunches and cocked her head to the side.
"And I need to get up because I suppose you'll be wanting to go out?" he acquiesced.
At the mention of the word out, Lacy barked loudly, dancing about on huge paws in excitement. John sighed as swung his legs out over the floor, then carefully attached the stabilizing brace over his right knee. He stood up, holding onto the bedpost and taking a moment to be sure he was properly balanced before taking a single step. He'd made the mistake too many times of thinking he had control of the infernal thing and ending up on the floor instead.
John ran his fingers through his hair and yawned, blinking in the darkness of the early morning. He grabbed his robe from the back of the bedroom door and stumbled down the hallway of the small house, running his hand along the walls in the darkness as he was still a bit unfamiliar with the layout. It was a nice little house, if old and a bit drafty. It also wasn't exactly what he'd been hoping for when he moved to the city, but it would serve his purposes well enough. He firmly believed in the old adage that beggars could not be choosers.
As Lacy busied herself in the back garden, he went ahead and flipped on his coffee maker, eager to enjoy the one vice he had left. He'd have his tea later, but for now, he needed the bitter, hot burn and musky aroma of his favorite Ethiopian blend to get his brain functioning properly. The sun wouldn't be up for at least another two hours, but his day always officially began at sunrise, sometimes earlier, no matter what time of the year. It would do him no good to try to go back to bed as he would only lay there thinking anyway.
He scooped a heaping mound of food into Lacy's bowl and opened the door for her to come back inside, the big dog happily lumbering into the kitchen for her breakfast. The morning paper wouldn't be here for a while yet, so he headed back to the front of the house and into the small living room. He sat down heavily on the couch, pulling the blanket he kept on the back of it over his legs. He didn't bother to turn on the television, as the house didn't have cable service. It was a distraction, he'd been told. They couldn't expect him to live on the two fuzzy channels the set top antenna got him. It was downright inhumane.
So he sat there in the dark, listening to the occasional vehicle passing by, barking dog, and distant siren. And naturally his thoughts turned to his dream, the one he'd been enjoying before he'd been so unceremoniously awakened. He'd dreamed of long blonde hair and cheerful blue eyes, and a smile that betrayed the sadness she'd shown him. The latter part of the dream had been bordering on the improper, and he knew he'd have to throw an extra prayer up today for his thoughts. Of all of the distractions he could possibly have at the moment, Anna Smith was the most dangerous. And the most tempting.
But still, he couldn't help but think about her. She was beautiful in a very refreshing way, not reliant on makeup or putting on airs. She had an easy smile once she opened up, and he had most definitely noticed the blush on her cheeks that bloomed several times the other day at the cafe. She seemed interested in him, and he was very interested in her, but then it could just be simple politeness on her part that he was mistaking for romantic sentiment. Either way, he wasn't exactly in a position in his life to entertain such thoughts, no matter how pretty the woman or intoxicating the smile.
Two cups of coffee and a long shower later, he stood in front of his open wardrobe, thumbing through the hangars. "What do you say, Lace?" he asked the dog sitting attentively beside him. "Should it be the black one today?" He held one button down shirt up to his chest, then another. "Or the other black one? It's an important day, you know. Have to look sharp."
Lacy snorted and yawned, then walked away to crash on her bed in the corners, sighing heavily as she closed her eyes.
"The black one then," he decided. "Good thing your hair blends with it, or else I'd look like I'm wearing a fur coat all day. I don't know what I would have done if they'd handed me, I don't know, a white poodle or a retriever." He stopped a moment to consider her and all of the comfort she'd brought him ever since his counselor had deposited a tiny little ball of black fluff into his arms and said he needed a friend. She'd been the runt of the litter, the one that wasn't supposed to flourish without individual attention, the one that was supposed to stay small and dainty. A hundred and thirty pounds later, she had become quite literally his main reason to get up every morning. And when he'd had nightmares or the stress had gotten too much for him to take, when the pain was too much to bear, when it even felt like his faith had deserted him, all it took was a gently nudge with her wet nose or a heavy paw on his leg to help shake off his despair.
He made quick work of putting on his shirt and slacks, then slipping on his most comfortable pair of serviceable black dress shoes. He bent down to scratch Lacy behind her ears once, turned out the light, and grabbed the worn leather-bound book from atop his dresser. He gave himself a once-over in the long mirror on the back of the door, adjusted his collar, and smoothed his hair into place.
Today was the most important day in his life.
II.
It was a crisp, sunny autumn morning, and Anna felt braced by the cool breeze that ruffled her hair and stirred her skirt as she walked from her car to the church. A few other people were making their way into the courtyard at the same time as her, and they greeted each other politely. She waved as she recognized the same man who had admitted her last week and he smiled brightly in return, this time clumsily dripping gold paint onto the cobbles.
She bit back a grin and walked up the long path, following after a large group of worshippers as they filed inside. She paid a bit more attention to the church this time, taking in the delicate architecture and stained glass windows in the transoms. She remembered her parents bringing her and Emily here a few times when they were young, but never again after her father's death. It appeared the church needed some repair work, as she could clearly see water stains in a few places on the walls.
A dark-haired woman greeted her just inside the door. "Welcome to Downton Abbey," she said in a soft voice. "Are you a new member?"
"Uh, yes," Anna stammered. "I was invited by a friend." She scanned the few dozen people already seated inside.
"Oh, that's wonderful," the older woman replied with a smile. "Here's a plan for today's services, with the order of ceremony and words to the hymns," she said as she pressed a folded piece of paper into Anna's hands. "And if you don't mind, could you sign the new visitor book over here?" She indicated a notebook on a small stand beside her. As Anna scrawled her name and address, as many others had apparently already done that day, the woman introduced herself. "My name is Phyllis, and if there's anything you need, please feel free to ask. We're ever so glad you could join us."
"Thank you," Anna murmured as she finished and continued into the church. There were about twenty odd long pews on each side, and she picked a spot about halfway from the front, sliding past an older couple and sitting toward the outside end. The church was about halfway full now, with more people trickling in as the time to begin the services approached.
She craned her neck to look around the nave for John, hoping he would seek her out as well. She was rather surprised to see Mary Crawley and another dark haired young woman walk down the aisle together, taking their seats all the way in the front row of the church. Anna guessed they were sisters, being of a similar build and colouring. They smiled and talked politely with an elderly woman in a garish purple hat already seated there. Mary never looked in Anna's direction, and she was somewhat glad of that. She didn't know what she felt about the other woman, given their strange conversation the other day.
Every time a dark haired man walked by, Anna's heart jumped a little and she chided herself at how silly she was being. She was acting like a teenager hoping to run into her crush between school bells. He was a polite man, handsome and considerate, with eyes that swallowed her within their hues, which she hadn't decided if they were green or brown as of yet. He'd made it a point to let her know that he was unattached, which she took as a good sign. But she really knew nothing else about him besides that he carried a packet of tissue everywhere he went, he owned a dog, and that he was new in town. She'd told him far more about her life than he'd let her know himself.
She came to realize as she waited that her attraction to him was probably a part of the grief process. She craved companionship, and he was the nicest option she'd had in years.
Anna tapped her feet and glanced at her watch impatiently. She'd already shooed off a few people asking if the seat beside her were taken, and the church was getting more packed by the minute. It was almost as if every person on this side of town were there, a few clusters of them smiling and shaking hands and engaging in very quiet, whispered conversations. For the most part, they were silent, some praying in the pews before the service began, others visiting the altar. Finally, she couldn't save the spot any longer and smiled politely at the young family who squeezed in beside her, forcing her to slide all the way to the end of the pew.
The choir took their place up front, then the organist, and everyone stood up, scraping their feet loudly on the worn stone floor. A soloist began singing a traditional hymn, which Anna vaguely remembered bits of from her childhood. She didn't bother trying to read along with the photocopied bulletin Phyllis had given her, having not even given it a glance since she'd received it. She just moved her lips in a vague approximation of what she remembered the words to be. She tried not to look too obvious as she scanned the crowd around her for John and sighed when she still couldn't spot him above the sea of heads and hats. Sometimes she really hated being short, just as she felt as she stared ruefully into the broad back of the tall man in front of her.
"Are you looking for someone?" the woman beside her whispered at the end of the hymn. "You've been popping up like one of those meerkat things the whole time."
"Just a friend who invited me here," Anna said, embarrassed. "John Bates. Do you know him?"
The woman only smiled and nodded as the organist began the opening bars of the next hymn. After the second piece, the entire congregation sat down and she glanced around again. Worry began morphing into bitter disappointment, and then acceptance as she realized that he probably wasn't truly interested in her anyway. He was a nice enough fellow, but really, who tries to pick up a woman by inviting her to church anyway? Besides, she didn't think she could stand to hitch herself to some overly religious pilgrim trying to convert her to gain points with his God. She decided that she would finish the services, cut her losses, and be on with her life. She would lose nothing besides a few lovely hours on a Sunday morning and a little bit of her dignity.
Finally, the elderly priest emerged from one of the side chapels, to thunderous applause from the congregation. He smiled and raised his hands in benediction, then motioned for them to retake their seats.
"Friends and family," he began, his voice strong, thanks to the perfect acoustics of the room. "I see quite a few new faces here with us today, as well as some here whom I haven't seen in quite some time. I'd like to welcome all of you to Downton Abbey. It's good to be amongst friends."
Anna crossed her legs and sat back in the slightly uncomfortable old pew. He had a nice enough voice, not boring like the old priest she remembered from her childhood visits. Father Gantry went on to give a brief history of the church. It had been part of a larger complex when it was built in the fourteenth century, being the smaller offshoot of the larger cathedral across town near Anna's flat. The original Downton Abbey had been the monastery on the grounds until the 1700s, when a fire gutted the residences. They then lay vacant for over a century before being torn down. Most of the old stones had been carted off to build new buildings in the city, leaving just the smaller church and outbuildings, surrounding gardens, and cemetery. The small church had actually been abandoned in the late-1800s, then restored and reconsecrated by the Church of England after the Second Great War.
Father Gantry went on to thank the parishioners for their support, spoke a bit of God, Queen, and Country, led them in another two hymns, and finally began drawing to a close. "Finally, my dear friends and family," he said, his voice wavering slightly as he slowly took in the congregation, "my time here with you has drawn to a close. It is time to begin a new chapter here at Downton, to bring us into the twenty-first century and beyond. I hope you'll join me in welcoming your new vicar..."
Anna didn't catch the new vicar's name as loud applause drowned Gantry's words out. People stood up from the front of the church in a wave all the way to the back. Anna stretched on her toes to peer through the sea of people, the tall man in front of her blocking her view again. She saw a hand waving from the pulpit above the crowd, then Father Gantry moved off to the side to allow the new vicar to speak.
As everyone took their seats again, Anna remained frozen in place, a single tree in the middle of a grassland.
And as she locked eyes with The Reverend John Bates from across the church, her heart crumbled a bit inside.