Blessed Chapter 9, a downton abbey fanfic

A/N: Good evening everyone :) We can't begin to tell you how much your support means to us! It's so nice to read your reviews :D We hope you enjoy this chapter; the chapter before all the answers ;)

~ Terrie & Handy ~

Disclaimer: Same as chapter 1-8.

Blessed ~ Chapter 9

Monday - Friday

Monday -

Every night, John set the alarm clock. It was a ritual he didn't like to miss, but every morning it gave him great pleasure to win the race. To switch the alarm off knowing he had been able to wake up without help, only by his own will. It was something he felt he could control, something he was good at.

6:30 am. He sat up in bed as soon as he opened his eyes, turning on the lamp, brightening the dark little room. He ran a hand through his hair, along his jaw, scratching his bare chest...a deep breath followed, and then a yawn.

He stood to his feet, stretching out his back and thinking about all he had to do. Summer in an orphanage, a good orphanage, was never short of work, especially when they had to think of ways to entertain small children.

Shirtless, wearing only his shorts, he walked barefoot to the big calendar hanging on the wall; he had hung it there after the departure of Sister Madeleine to her yearly retreat, he didn't want to miss any more special dates.

'So…' John whispered to himself, pointing out the days of this coming week. 'Monday...nothing...Tuesday…' he coughed - his throat felt dry - as he scratched his calf with the back of his left foot. 'Mosquitoes…bloody things...Oh! Anna's birthday is this coming Thursday. Well, well...' His mind was already beginning to make plans.

Thirty minutes later, John set the kitchen door swinging as he elbowed through it, his hands filled with a tray holding the remnants from his late-night snack. He was fresh out of the shower as evidenced by his still damp hair and fresh-scrubbed face.

Mrs Patmore looked up from her seat at the table, where she was peeling spuds. 'Blimey! This is early even for you, Father. Breakfast won't be ready for another forty-five minutes.'

'I'm just here for coffee and a chat, if you have the time, Mrs P.'

'I'm not even sure the coffee's done, but you can check, and if you don't mind me putting you to work,' she held her paring knife out to him, 'you can have yourself a seat.'

He poured two cups of piping hot coffee and sat one in front of the cook.

'Birthdays, Mrs P! I know we have twelve a year, like all the July birthdays on the first of that month and so forth, but that's just for the children.'

'So?'

'Anna's birthday is Thursday,' he said, as he started peeling.

'Is it now? And?' Mrs Patmore looked at him curiously.

'I want to celebrate it. I want to celebrate all of our birthdays,' he clarified, 'starting with breakfast in bed followed by -.'

'Breakfast in bed! Are you...?' She was at a loss for words. 'Maybe you haven't been here long enough to notice, but we don't celebrate staff birthdays. Everyone gets an extra five pounds in their paychecks; that's it.'

'Not anymore it's not. There aren't that many of us and from now on we'll have birthday parties too - not big ones, just a cake around the kitchen table. Everyone can come in and grab a piece when they have time. I'll even bake the cakes,' John offered.

'And breakfast in bed, huh?' was all she could say.

'Yes. When I was still living at home, on my mum's birthday my dad would always take her breakfast on a tray. Dad and I would end up in bed with her too because he invariably made enough for an army. She'd be talking about it for months after,' John reminisced.

'So we're all to go up and crawl in bed with Anna and share her food?' Mrs Patmore joked. The fact that Father's cheeks turned red did not go unnoticed. 'It's a nice thought, Father, but you might want to rethink that.'

'You don't think it's a good idea?'

'I think it's a sweet idea.' The cook smiled at him. 'But Sister would throw a conniption fit. A priest in a teacher's bedroom?'

'I don't give a fig what Sister thinks.' John seemed disappointed for just a minute. 'But perhaps you're right. I would never want to compromise Anna. What was I thinking?'

And then Mrs Patmore saw it all written so clearly in his eyes. 'You were thinking with your kind heart, Father, and that's never wrong.'

'Isn't it?' he asked. John found he couldn't look up when she took his hand.

'My old mum used to say; The heart knows what the heart knows.' And Mrs P knew.

Alarm clocks had always been her worst enemy, but she couldn't chance sleeping until she woke up naturally. If that were the case, she would probably miss breakfast and lunch altogether.

At 8:00 a.m. Anna stretched out lazily and yawned, her feet tangled in the sheets, thankful for the extra hour of sleep the summer schedule allowed her. The morning light shone brightly through her thin, net curtains, illuminating the room, shining its spotlight directly on her face. She groaned, rubbing her eyes before getting out of bed.

Standing tall, Anna bent over, touching her toes a couple of times, and twisting this way and that from the waist. Limbering up. Then she pulled at her baby doll pyjama bottoms which had ridden up during the night. She glanced at herself in the mirror across the room and groaned. Her hair looked better suited for a scarecrow, making her wonder why she even bothered braiding it every night. Sitting down at her vanity she began to unbraid and brush it. Her eyes were focused on the features of her sleepy face.

'One year older... in less than a week…' She whispered to herself with a sigh. What would her next year bring? If only...but even as she thought it, she knew in her heart it was an impossible dream.

Tuesday -

John paused at the back door before heading out with his mug of tea. He really wanted a breath of fresh air, but Jane was out there sitting on the arbour swing thumbing her way through a stack of magazines. It was irrational, he knew, but Jane Moorsum scared him a bit, and he was hesitant to be alone with her. John liked Jane; he really did and from all accounts, she was an excellent teacher and Anna's best friend to boot. But still...

The teacher looked up then and saw him standing at the door. Smiling, she waggled her fingers at him. He acknowledged Jane in the same way, and when she patted the seat next to her, he took a deep breath and stepped through the door, closing it behind him.

'Hey, Father. How's the morning treating you?'

'Not too bad,' he said, taking his seat beside her, the stack of magazines between them. 'I see you're not at a loss for reading material this summer,' John joked trying to make light conversation.

'Hardly! I'm going through these old issues and deciding if they're appropriate to pass on to our girls. 'You have to watch out for Cosmopolitan, you know?' She winked at him. Now, what was that supposed to mean?

'Uh, no I didn't know.'

'Can't be too careful. They're all smart, strong young ladies, but they do love their fashion too.'

'Nothing wrong with that, I suppose.' He noticed she had stopped in her perusing a catalogue to study a page of accessories. John briefly wondered if he should ask Jane to help him find a birthday gift for Anna, but for some reason, he realised he wanted to do this on his own. 'Looks like rain, doesn't it?' That's it stick to the weather, John.

'It does, but Mr Rivers says we can use it. I wouldn't go for any long walks today.'

'Unfortunately, that's not an option for me. I'm meeting Fr. William in the village for tea later on.'

'Hm, you might want to re-think that,' Jane moved on, 'Anna tells me that little Alice has visitors coming to see her tomorrow.'

'She does. Cousins of her mother. They're Alice's only living relatives, and they've been abroad for the past two years and had no idea Alice's parents had died. They're missionaries, as were Alice's parents. Good people, I think, but they have a full, busy life. Would they even have room in it for a young girl like Alice?'

Jane considered this, 'I didn't know her parents were missionaries. Well, she knows the life, at least,' she reasoned. 'Perhaps Alice would fit right in. She's such a shy baby, though. She really only relates to Anna.'

John agreed. 'Yes, Anna's wonderful with her. Well, we shall see and hope for things to work out for the best.' John looked at his watch and turned to Jane. 'It's been lovely chatting with you, but I'd best be getting back to work.'

As he rose to leave Jane called out with a smile, 'Better take your water-wings on that walk, Father.'

John could count on one hand the number of times he had been to the village, but he always enjoyed it when he did. This afternoon, though, the clouds were threatening, ominous almost. He questioned his decision not to call and cancel. The air was still warm and the seagulls flew low, switching sea for land; an indication of strong waves and high tide.

People in the village knew him already, even though he didn't know them personally. They walked past him tilting their hats and wishing him a good day, wondering what the Orphanage director was doing...well, outside of the Orphanage.

'Let me tell you, Father, if anyone ever told me I would see the very own Blessed Virgin director walking past me on the street...Goodness! I would have called them all a bunch of liars.'

'Really?' John feigned curiosity, as an old man addressed him.

'Yes, really! The former Blessed Virgin director was too big for his britches...literally. He couldn't be bothered showing up amongst us mere mortals.'

'Then he didn't know what he was missing.' John smiled kindly at the elderly gent. 'This village is beautiful, and the people are the salt of God's earth.'

'Ah, 'tis true. You're a good man, Father!' The old duffer patted him on the shoulder and went on his way.

With a grin on his face, John continued toward the church at the far end of High Street where Father William would be waiting for him with tea and a nice chat. Suddenly, there was a long roll of thunder in the distance. It would rain soon.

He walked faster then, hoping he wouldn't get wet, when something caught his attention. In a storefront window, he saw it. The perfect gift for Anna Smith.

'Good afternoon,' John said upon entering the shop.

'Good afternoon, Father. Hiding from the rain?'

'Sort of...well…' the priest cleared his throat, noticing the big wooden clock on one of the walls. 4:45 p.m. He had time. 'I was wondering about that silver bracelet in the window. Could you show it to me, please?'

'But of course!' The store owner smiled, obliging to his request. 'It's what they call a charm bracelet.'

'A charm bracelet?' John asked as the man handed him the delicate silver chain.

'You see...we have all these charms, and you keep adding them. Every birthday, every anniversary, special date...it's a highly bought item among husbands.' The storekeeper winked. 'And also whenever they do something they need to make amends for, they add another charm and the wife forgives them, if you know what I mean.'

'I do.' The priest chuckled.

'The first charm comes with the bracelet. It's a beautiful little heart, isn't it?'

'It is…' John held the silver pendant between his fingers. It was such a small, delicate thing, so suited for someone as...sweet and delicate as Anna. 'Oh!' he exclaimed, turning the charm around to find an inscription on its back. It made his breath catch.

'The ladies like them with sayings.'

'I see…'

'Is it for a sister?' The store owner asked, placing a box filled with charms atop the counter. 'I have one that-.'

'No, it's...for a friend.' The priest answer cautiously. Would the man think more of it?

'Oh! Well...let me see if I have friendship one. I think I had-.'

'Actually, I like the heart,' John nodded, eyeing the charm one more time. Nothing else could be more perfect for Anna. Nothing else could express what he felt for her, even though, in the back of his mind he asked himself if it was right. Right to give her a silver heart...in lieu of his own.

'Oh yes, of course. And then, love is also part of friendship. It's a beautiful gift, Father. Do you want me to wrap it up? Or did you want to see something else?'

'I'll take it.' The priest replied decisively. A heart of friendship, and nothing more. But, of course, it was so much more than that. 'Can you wrap it in pink...and with a bow?'

'Of course, Father. I'll make it pretty for you.' The man smile, as he wrapped up the gift with practised ease.

'Thank you very much,' John smiled. '...Mr?'

'Mr Harper, Father. At your service.'

John made his way out of the store not five minutes later, after the weather broke. He wore a big smile, pleased with his achievement and relieved that he had found what he thought to be the perfect gift for Anna. But those clouds overhead hadn't given up just yet, and another roll of thunder was heard not so far away.

He sighed disapprovingly, his free hand cupping the pocket where he carried the small wrapped box, patting it gently...and a second after, the rains came again. So John ran, as best as he could, grabbing his walking stick to get it out of the way; wet ground and canes were never a good match.

'Father John! Come in, come in.' Father William opened the back door of the church, rushing him inside. The young priest was tall - taller than John - and slim, he had light brown hair, clear eyes, a proud, jutting chin and a smile always playing on his lips. A nice lad, as John described him around. A breath of fresh air.

'Thank you, Father William. I'm afraid I'm a little late.'

'A friend always waits for another friend.' The new priest stepped forward to help Father John out of his jacket. 'Now, with hot tea, you'll be as good as new.'

'That I will, my friend. That I will. And you must pay a visit to The Blessed Virgin sometime soon. It's really quite a special place.'

Wednesday -

There were sighs every time Brenda found another item to pack into her suitcase. It was her last week at the Orphanage before leaving for nursing school, and a whole new future ahead of her.

Following Sunday Mass, she, accompanied by her teacher, Miss Moorsum would be boarding the train for York. She would be settled into her new home - a dorm room on the campus of the York School of Nursing, and she would be set free. Brenda was excited and looking forward to her new life. She was also more terrified than she had ever been.

'This is making me sad…' Cynthia pouted watching as her friend grabbed the last few pairs of socks from the drawer.

'Yeah, it feels real now. It didn't before, but now it does,' Judith said, laying on her pillow, her hands behind her head and eyes on the ceiling.

'It's unfair if you ask me.' Karen crossed her arms around her middle. 'Why do we have to leave? I don't think I'll do well outside when my time comes, next year.'

'Do you think I'm overjoyed?' Brenda asked turning to face her friends, who sat there under their own cloud of gloom and doom. 'I'm not, I would love to stay here with all of you forever. With Miss Smith and Miss Moorsum, Mrs P, Sister Josephine...Father John.' They all giggled at the way she said the priest's name, followed by a cheeky wink. 'But it's also exciting to leave here and venture out on my own. See new things, meet new people, do different stuff. Just live!'

'She's right, you know.' Pam smiled feeling a little better. 'I would love to travel the world! I dream of seeing the Great Wall of China one day.'

'Paris!' Karen shouted.

'New York!' Judith added.

'Travel to Hollywood and meet all those handsome movie stars,' Cynthia said with a delightful smirk.

'And then, we can always visit,' Brenda continued. 'And write to each other. We will be friends forever, remember? But we also have a life to live. Isn't that what Miss Smith says?'

'She does,' Judith nodded.

'And Miss Smith's always right. She never says what's not true,' Pam stated, sitting on Brenda's suitcase, to help her close it.

'I do wonder, though…' They all faced Cynthia at once, confused.

'About what?' Brenda asked.

'Well, Miss Smith was born and raised here in Whitby. I wonder if...well if she's living her life, you know?'

'Course she is! She's a teacher,' Judith said.

'Yes but, she never travelled anywhere else. She never met new people. She dated that Gordon bloke since she was our age,' Cynthia insisted.

'Doesn't sound like she has lived much, that's true...and it's a shame she isn't going to marry him anymore.' Karen sighed to herself. 'She's so kind and good to us; she deserves all the happiness in the world.'

'Gordon Manning wasn't the love of her life. Miss Smith is a romantic soul; he wasn't the right man for her.'

'What are you even talking about, Pam?!' Cynthia questioned, looking at her friend dubiously.

'That's just what I think. Miss Smith is just like I am…'

'What?' Brenda laughed. 'Half loving the priest, half loving a fifteen-year-old?'

The girls giggled loudly; but aside from the fifteen-year-old, Brenda wasn't telling any lies.

Pam only rolled her eyes before concluding, 'Women like us don't settle for second best. If he doesn't make our heart skip a beat, he's not the one.'

'Women?' Cynthia exclaimed, throwing a pillow at Pam. 'And who do you think makes Miss Smith's heart skip a beat, you silly child!'

'The same one who sets our hearts to racing. We all know who that is,' Pam said with a sigh. 'Poor Miss Smith.' All the girls nodded their heads in agreement. Poor Miss Smith, indeed.

A pillow fight ensued after that, and even Brenda allowed herself to forget for a minute that this life was coming to an end.

Outside, the teen boys sat under the shade of a cherry tree, resting up from an impromptu football match - three against three; it had ended in a draw. They were sweaty and thirsty, but no one could muster up the energy to run to the kitchen for a glass of water; the tart cherries would have to do.

'Did you hear the girls talking? Brenda is already packing.' Teddy sighed, laying down on the soft grass. The others nodded at his words.

'Next year it will be Karen and me,' Philip said sadly. 'I mean I want to, but I just don't think I'm ready, you know? I don't even know what I want to be.'

'But maybe you don't have to leave,' Teddy tried to cheer his friend. 'Alf stayed, didn't he? You can stay too. Be a helper, maybe Father John's helper.'

'Yeah,' the other boys voiced in unison, already hating the idea of seeing them one by one, leaving the only home some of them could ever remember.

'It's not like they'll just send us out on our own to fend for ourselves until we're ready. And there's always work in the village if we don't go on to Uni,' said James. 'I remember Avery Owens, who left the year I came? He went opened up his own car garage in the village. And Walter Ream has a fleet of fishing boats. Nah, we'll be okay, mates.'

'I always wanted to be a mechanic in a garage. Mr Rivers has been letting me tinker on the old tractor out behind the shed. Maybe I can get a job at Avery Owens' place!' Howie planned his future.

'Maybe…' Philip was still unsure. 'Why didn't Brenda stay?'

'Brenda always wanted to be a nurse,' Howie replied.

'And maybe one day she'll come back and be a nurse here. It's happened before. Years ago they had a teacher who had been raised at the Orphanage. Miss Barker, I think. She came back and was a nurse right here before Sister Rose came,' Oscar added.

'Oh yes, I remember her. She had a mole right between her eyes. Now she was a looker!' Louis giggled.

'Know what? We should make Brenda a card!' It was James who had the idea, jumping to his feet and resting his hands on his hips. 'Yeah, we should definitely make her a card.'

'A card?' Teddy asked with a frown.

'A Going Away card!' James exclaimed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. 'Girls like written things, don't they? We could write something to her and sign it so she'll remember us when she's gone. The girls can sign it too, in fact, everyone can! Father, Miss Smith, Miss Moorsum, Mrs P -'

'Mad Madeleine.' Louis teased, contorting his face in his best Sister Madeleine impression.

James screwed up his nose. 'Eh, don't know, but if she wants to...Miss Smith says we have to include her always; it's up to the old crow to say yes or no.'

'Yeah, let's do it!' Philip stood up, joining his friend. 'Brenda will be so happy. It'll be a great idea James!' he smiled, patting his friend on the back.

'I always have great ideas.'

'Not really...this was the first,' Howie added.

'And probably his last,' Teddy joked, earning him a slap around the head from James. After that, the boys ran inside, right into Mrs Patmore kitchen, where they were offered cold water and freshly made cinnamon biscuits.

'Faver! Faver! Wait for Wosie, Faver!' The chubby little two-year-old had latched on to Father John's leg as he tried to walk down the hall with a toddler in each arm.

'Darling, let loose of my leg and go wait in the nursery. I'll come back to get you in just a minute. Okay, sweetie?'

Rosie let go of his leg only to hold her hands aloft, pleading, 'Up, Faver, up! Pweeze?'

'Hey,' it was Anna, 'What's going on? Can I help?'

'Oh yes, please. Sr Rose and Sr Josephine and I are taking these little tykes out to play in the new sandbox Alf and Mr Rivers built. If you could grab Wosie...I mean Rosie and bring her along I'd sure appreciate it.'

On hearing this, Rosie turned to Anna. 'Up, Anna, up.'

'Oh, the sandbox!'

When Anna clapped her hands together in child-like excitement, John felt his heart turn over envisioning his charm bracelet with a lifetime worth of charms dangling from her wrist.

She reached down for the girl. 'Let's go, Rosie. I can't wait to get my bare feet in the sand!' With that, Anna jogged down the hall, little Rosie looking over her shoulder waving bye to Father John.

'What's so interesting?' Sister Madeleine barked, walking up behind Mrs Patmore, causing her to jump nearly out of her skin and spill hot tea down her front.

'Ah! Must you always be sneaking up on people? Just look at me. Now I'm a fine mess,' the cook scowled at the old sister, as she removed her wet apron.

'Would you look at that spectacle!' Mrs P watched as the nun stormed out of the door to confront poor Sr. Josephine. The young nun was sitting in the sand; her habit crooked on her head with toddlers crawling on her and having the time of her life.

'Sister!' She cast a dark shadow over the sandbox causing everyone present to freeze and the children to whimper. 'You will get out of there, shake yourself off and go back to the kitchen where you belong. You are a disgrace to our order and our way of life. See me in my office after evening prayers. Now go!'

Father John, who had been sitting in a garden chair taking his shoes and socks off, rose to challenge Sr Madeleine but was stunned to silence by her bony finger wagging in his face.

'These are my sisters, Father,' her voice growing shriller by the second. 'It would do you well to remember that. Sr Josephine's actions were inappropriate and childish and she will be punished.' With that, she caught sight of his bare feet, and his one rolled up trouser leg. She turned her face to the heavens as if to say, Why am I being tested, Lord? 'Just look at yourself! You're a disgrace to your profession!' She put a shaking hand to her forehead as if momentarily dizzy before turning toward the building; her exit from the scene punctuated by the slamming of the back door.

It took Father only a few seconds to react. He looked at Sister Rose, comforting the two toddlers who had been climbing on Sister Josephine. Then at Anna, kneeling and holding two other frightened children, and finally down at Rosie, who at the moment was trying with all her might to climb his leg.

'Enough…' He took Rosie by the hand and led her to Anna for safe keeping, slipped on his shoes, rolled down his trousers and went after Sister Madeleine.

What he found shocked and saddened him. Sister Madeleine was gripping the cowering young nun's shoulder, her hand raised, poised to strike.

'Stop!' The priest shouted as Mrs Patmore stepped between the two and took the blow herself. He grabbed the old nun's arm hard to stop her from attacking again. She spun on him, and he watched her face crumble as she collapsed to the floor.

'Mrs P, are you all right?' he asked.

She nodded her head, 'But Sr Madeleine's not well, Father.' The cook held the young sister in her arms.

Father John knelt on the floor, trying to calm the wailing nun, to no avail. 'I think she's having a breakdown. I'll stay with her. Can you -,'

'I'll call the doctor,' she said, taking Sr Josephine by the hand and heading for the phone in her pantry.

Father blessed the old nun as she continued her sad sobbing.

'How is she?' Anna asked the minute John walked into the nursery. She had a slippery Rosie wrapped in a towel, fresh from her bath. The toddler squirmed until John reached out to take her.

'The doctor thinks it was low blood sugar and stress, brought on by me, no doubt,' he said with a sigh.

Anna reached out, caressing his arm. 'Now stop. You didn't cause her low blood sugar and she brings on her own stress.'

'Hypoglycemia, is it?' Sister Rose walked over with Rosie's nightgown and nighttime nappy in her hands. 'That's what I figured it was.'

'Should we have seen it coming? I didn't notice anything unusual but I'm afraid I've pushed her too far,' John worried.

'Father, enough of that talk. We all irritate her. She's the easiest person in the world to set off and you know that. So what are they going to do with her tonight?'

'The doctor wants her to go to the hospital for a couple of days for tests. She's not very happy about it either.' He switched Rosie to his other arm. 'She's insisting you go and stay with her because she doesn't trust the village nurses. I'm sorry, Sister. Anna and I will watch over the little ones, won't we?'

'We will, happily, but I don't envy you, Sister Rose.'

Sister sighed. 'I suppose I've had worse duties in my time, but not by much. I'll go pack a small bag and then be off. Is the doctor still here?'

'He is. He's waiting for you. She won't leave without her private nurse,' John smiled. 'I really am sorry.'

'Did she really strike out at Mrs P? Sister asked.

'She did, but her target was Sr Josephine, then she collapsed,' Father said sadly.

Sister shook her head,'Well I'll be off then,' she said leaving John and Anna with five toddlers and a baby.

It was nearly ten-thirty. Calm had finally fallen over the nursery. It was as if the toddlers fought sleep, not wanting their night with Anna and Father John to end. Anna was curled up on the small tufted love seat in the dim glow of the nightlight. She was feeding their newest charge, an infant, as yet unnamed. Less than two weeks old, the tiny boy was sucking noisily on his bottle.

John was just returning from Sr Rose's tiny kitchen when he heard it - Anna's soft crooning to the baby. His heart turned in his chest, and he swallowed hard. 'Almost finished?' he asked softly.

'Not nearly,' she shook her head with a contented smile. 'This one enjoys his meals too much. There's no rushing him.'

'I think you're enjoying it too,' John chuckled. 'Listen, I can take over if you want to get ready for bed. Then I'll do the same when you're back. I could use a shower,' he said, running his hand over his face and through his hair. 'You can sleep in Sister Rose's bed, and I'll camp out here on the sofa.'

'No, I'll finish up here. I think he's about to drift off. I don't want to disturb him and yes, you're right. I am enjoying it,' Anna said in a whisper, without looking up from the babe. 'And you will take the bed. Have you noticed the size of this love seat? You'd be twisted up like a pretzel sleeping here. I'll brook no arguments from you, mister.'

'We'll see.' He considered her for a moment. 'Okay, I won't be long,' but she was so under the spell of the infant he wasn't even sure she heard him leave.

Less than fifteen minutes later, Anna was where he had left her. 'Still at it?' He stood before her in his striped pyjamas, blue housecoat and slippers. His hair was damp from his shower.

Her breath caught in her throat at the sight. She smiled and held the bottle up with some milk remaining. 'We had to stop to burp.'

'Give him to me,' John motioned with his hands. 'I'll finish up with him else we'll never get to sleep.'

'Eh, but he feels so good,' she sighed, reluctantly handing the baby over.

John sat down in her place, adjusting the boy in his arms. 'You're a softy, Anna Smith. I fear your children will be spoiled rotten,' he grinned up at her.

'As all children should be, Father John,' and she flounced out of the room.

John settled in and allowed the warmth of the little one to melt into his heart. He watched, transfixed when a tiny hand gripped his index finger, and he was in heaven when big blue eyes stared into his.

Oh, memories took him back in time. It was magic...and so painful.

'Father. Father?' She caught them both sleeping upon her return. The bottle was empty and sitting on the side table to the left of the loveseat.

John stirred when Anna sat next to him and leant in to brush her fingers lightly over the baby's head. Her freshly washed hair smelled like the wildflowers she so loved picking, and when he moved his right arm around her pink chenille covered shoulders, she snuggled into him so naturally. This is the way things should be, John thought. There was a rightness to it.

'Poor little one,' sighed Anna. 'It always makes me sad that these little ones come to us nameless.'

'Yes, a newborn; his fourteen-year-old mother and her parents only wanted to forget about him. It's understandable, I suppose, but how could you ever forget? I could never forget,' said John, resting his chin on Anna's head.

'Nor I. Did you know, John, I name them, these little ones. It only seems right.'

'Do you?' he asked, looking down at her. How like his Anna. 'Have you named this one?'

'Not yet. This is the first I've really spent time with him. The first time I've breathed his baby smell. Gotten to know him.' Anna curled her legs up under her and wrapped her right arm around John and the infant. Holding them both. 'Let's name him...together.'

'All right, how about Peter?' he suggested.

Anna turned up her nose. 'No, I have an Uncle Peter and no, just no. I like John.'

'You would,' he teased. 'I think we can do better than that for this little boy.'

'I don't. He should be named after his father, and right now you are the only father he has. So it's settled then, little John. And I won't be talked out of it.'

He knew Anna Smith to be a determined soul, and he didn't even try.

They sat there in peaceable silence. The last thing Anna remembered before drifting off was the sweetness of John's lips on the top of her head.

Thursday -

The breakfast bell had rung almost 10 minutes ago. The halls had emptied out. John had begun to wonder if he had missed her. Then, at last, he heard the click of her heels on the tiled floor above. He stood up from the step he had been sitting.

'Father?' Anna stopped mid-step, 'What are you doing there?'

'Waiting for you to come down,' and he held out his hand to her.

'Whatever for?' she asked, taking his offered hand when she reached his level.

'I wanted to be the first one to tell you happy birthday. Happy Birthday, Anna.'

Anna was touched by his kindness, but not surprised. 'Oh, thank you, Father. I didn't know you knew. I wasn't expecting anyone to remember.'

'I made a point of knowing, and I have something for you.' He pulled the gift from his pocket, handing it to her and motioning for her to sit on the step, where he joined her.

'Oh...'

'No, don't say it,' he stopped her.

'Don't say what?'

'Don't say I shouldn't have. I wanted to.' John nodded toward the gift, urging her to open it.

First she read the message he'd written on the card.

My dearest Anna ~

I don't know if I can ever convey to you just how much you've come to mean to me. To imagine my world without you in it is impossible. I truly believe you have changed my life forever.

~ Yours, John

'Oh John…' Then she turned her attention to her present. 'It's pink,' she said, lightly touching the bow. 'That's so sweet.' When she began to unwrap the small rectangular box Anna noticed that he seemed as excited as she was.

She knew from the embossed name on the midnight blue velvet box that it was from Harper's Jewellery Store. She felt breathless. 'What is it?'

'Open it and find out,' he encouraged.

Anna placed the box on her knees and slowly opened the lid. It lay there on its bed of satin, a delicate silver bracelet, adorned with a tiny silver heart. 'A charm bracelet,' she whispered.

'You know what it is then?'

'Of course, but do you?'

'I didn't, not until Mr Harper explained it to me,' he admitted.

But she wondered if he really did know the extent of what it meant. Was he saying he would be in her life throughout the years to fill this silver chain with charms, a myriad of life's memories? The poignancy of the gift nearly broke her heart. It seemed such an impossible dream. Her lip began to quiver, and she couldn't hold back the tear that slid down her cheek.

'Anna? What is it? Don't you like it?' His fingertips caught the lone tear.

She shook her head. 'I love it...I love it, John. It's perfect.'

'Good. Now I plan on filling this up, Miss Smith. By your seventieth birthday, you'll need my help lifting your arm it will be so laden with charms. If I still have the strength left in me, that is,' he chuckled.

So he did understand the meaning. 'Is that a promise?' she asked.

'You have my word. Now, may I put it on you?'

He picked up the bracelet from its box and she held her wrist out to him, palm side up. The chain felt cool against her skin as he fastened the tiny clasp. He hesitated, then bent to place a quick, gentle kiss on the inside of her wrist.

John suddenly felt he might have gone too far, but her smile convinced him otherwise. She was holding her wrist up examining the heart charm.

'Oh, it says something...it says, Only You!' Anna looked deep into his eyes. 'Oh, John...'

He did love when she called him John. He smiled. 'Happy Birthday, Anna.'

The breakfast dishes had been cleaned up; Ivy was in the herb garden, Daisy in the nursery. Mrs Patmore was cleaning out her pantry. And Father John, who had placed his mother's famous Vanilla Lemon cake in the oven was mixing up a bowl of pink frosting when he heard...

'Faver? Wosie's here!' the toddler pushed her way into the kitchen, sending the door swinging. She ran full-on, trusting him to catch her. 'Wosie fly, Faver!'

John swooped her up and held her as high in the air as he could, zooming her around the room. 'Wosie flying!' the little girl squealed.

Anna stood in the doorway taking in the scene playing out before her. John stood tall, his arms lifting Rosie nearly to the ceiling. There was what looked like flour staining one shoulder of his shirt. He had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and the first couple of buttons at his neck were open. Was that Mrs Patmore's apron? The one with the two rows of ruffles along the hem?

'She insisted on coming to find you, but my, my! What have we here? Are you taking up a new line of work, Father? The ruffled apron is a nice touch; I must say, ' Anna teased.

John lowered Rosie, her chubby bum now sitting on his forearm. She had her head on his shoulder and was touching the side of his face lovingly. 'Uh, no. I wanted it to be a surprise, but I've been caught. I'm making your birthday cake,' he said with a proud smile. Although he had never intended for Anna to find out, once he saw the look on her face he realised he was glad she had. 'Are you impressed?'

'I'm very impressed. You're a man of many talents. But you already gave me this beautiful bracelet, and now a cake too?' She held her wrist up allowing the sun catch it, setting the room awash with rainbows.

Little Rosie drew a breath. 'Oh, pwetty!'

'Well the bracelet was from me to you, but the cake is for the staff to celebrate your day. I was talking to Mrs P and I told her from now on everyone gets a cake on their birthday. The children have their parties, why can't we have ours?'

'So you made an executive decision? Sister was thrilled, I imagine,' she giggled.

Rosie climbed higher in his arms and kissed his cheek.

'I did, and Sister doesn't know yet. I had to promise Mrs Patmore I'd bake the cakes, though, hence the apron,' he explained. 'Rosie, why are you licking my face?'

'Eatin' Faver. Faver tastes good.'

'Oh my goodness! I bet Faver does taste good. You have pink frosting on your cheek, John. He does know his way to a girl's heart, doesn't he, Rosie?' But Rosie was too busy licking to answer.

Just then they heard a noise in the gravel driveway outside the kitchen window. It was Gordon making his weekly delivery. Anna had avoided seeing him for the past few weeks, but Mrs Patmore mentioned he was always asking about her. 'Oh no! John, can you watch Rosie and cover for me? I don't want to see Gordon. Please?' she begged.

'Of course. Go back in the pantry with Mrs P and close the door. I'll tell him you're gone away for the day if he asks about you. I'll get rid of him. Don't you worry. Rosie and I will handle this, won't we Peanut?' But Peanut just kept on licking.

Anna had no more than left when Gordon entered through the back door without knocking, pulling his delivery cart behind him. 'Good morning Mrs P! How's my favourite red - Oh-ho! Mrs P,' he said, looking up to see Father John. 'you've done something different with your hair!'

'Gordon.' John wasn't exactly rude, but he wasn't friendly either and had no intention of being so.

'And who's this little beauty?' Gordon tried to tickle Rosie's ribs, but she pulled away and hid her face in John's neck.

'No! Faver!'

'You must be losing your touch with the ladies, Gordon.' John couldn't help himself. He smiled as he kissed the top of Rosie's head. He only hoped she had cleaned all the pink frosting off his cheek. It was hard to be intimidating in a ruffled apron and pink frosting.

Gordon glared at him. 'You're a good one to talk, Padre. How's my girl? I've been too busy to see her lately.'

'That's not the way I heard it.'

'Then you heard wrong. Where is she? I remembered her birthday. I got her flowers. Anna likes flowers. She'd better love these. They cost me an arm and a leg.' Gordon brought forth a bouquet of florist-bought red roses from the back of the cart.

He doesn't know her at all, does he? John thought.

'So where is she? Where's Anna?'

'Anna?' Rosie turned, looking around the room.

'She's not here. She's gone for a few days.' John only hoped that Rosie didn't let the cat out of the bag.

Gordon eyed John, not quite believing him. He pinched Rosie's button nose to get her attention. 'Where's Anna, sweet pea?' he asked.

Rosie pulled away from him again, scowling and covering her nose with a pudgy hand. 'No! Anna go bye-bye.'

'Did she now? Well, her loss. Doesn't make me no never mind. I'll just add it to her account,' he said menacingly. 'Looks like the kitchen ladies have themselves some flowers,' and he tossed the bouquet on the table. 'Now move out of my way, Padre. I got a delivery to make,' he said, heading for the pantry.

'No, we're cleaning out the pantry. Just leave everything here and I'll put it in when we're ready for it.'

'Good. Less work for me.' Gordon emptied his cart at the door and as he turned to leave he said, 'Now don't you take credit for those flowers, Father, just to impress the girlies. You hear?' and he was gone.

Anna and Mrs Patmore had been listening at the pantry door so the first thing Anna did was walk over to the table, pick up the flowers and throw them in the trash. 'He doesn't know me at all.'

'Oops! You dropped the card, dear.' There was no envelope, so, of course, the cook read it. 'The nerve of him!'

'What?'

'Are you sure you want to see it?' said Mrs P handing it over to Anna.

Have you learned your lesson yet? - Gordo

Trying to hold back tears of frustration, Anna handed the card to John to read.

'Mrs P, can't we get another delivery service? She doesn't need to deal with this,' he insisted, placing his free arm around Anna's shoulder. Rosie leant over to give her a hug too.

'No, we can't,' Anna spoke up. 'Gordon's dad is sweet, and the orphanage has been a customer for years and years. It wouldn't be fair to Mr Manning.'

'Well, he's not too sweet,' Mrs P answered. 'He's raised his prices since you had the sense to break up with his good-for-nothing son.'

'Has he now? Oh! My cake!' John suddenly remembered, handing Rosie over to Anna.

Half an hour later the pantry was sorted and stocked; the cake was cooled, frosted and sitting in the middle of the kitchen table, sprinkles and all. The only thing left to do was lick the bowl. And that's what they did.

After that, the kitchen door never stopped swinging. Teachers and nuns alike, wanting a test out Father John's now famous cake baking skills, and to honour Anna's birthday. It wasn't a party, far from it, but for the teacher it had been the best birthday she had ever had. Surrounded by friends, with Sister Madeleine out of sight, with him there, smiling whenever they caught sight of each other.

The chain felt strange on her wrist, a wonderful kind of strange. By bedtime, she had gotten used to it. She would touch it now and then, making sure it was real, and Only You would be read over and over again under the dim light of her lamp that night.

Friday -

'What's in that box?' John asked as Anna teetered precariously at the top of the ladder they had borrowed from Mr Rivers.

She pulled the box down from the top shelf of a tall cupboard. 'Books and more books,' the teacher replied, finding it hard to reach for some of the items. 'Oh goodness! Are these editions are gold bound?'

'Anna, be careful, you're going to fall. Let me up there.' Her answer was a resounding, No! John tightened his grip on the ladder to make sure Anna had all the support she needed - although his concentration drifted away from his supposed aim to her legs. He swallowed hard, trying to avert his eyes, but whenever she moved, he couldn't help but take a glimpse of her skin, her stockings, and beautifully shaped calves. Oh my... 'They used to love gold finishings,' he continued. 'Should we sell or donate?'

'Hmm…' She pursed her lips, handing him a few of the books. Luckily, he had looked away right before she turned to him. 'Maybe you can auction them instead. I think collectors would love these.'

'True, but maybe these books are worthy of being in a national library too,' he told her, placing them on the floor and returning to his supportive task.

'Maybe you're right. And we already have so many things to sell.'

'Except for the bus, we'll save all this money for a rainy day. Thank God nothing too bad has ever happened, but we are dealing with children and we need to know we can afford anything they need. New books, new supplies, new clothes too, doctors.'

'I'd like to think that's what Father Benedict had in mind when he was building his collections, but I sadly doubt it. Still, that's what it's come to in the end,' Anna said.

'What's in that box?' He pointed to a box in the far corner of the closet, but when Anna tried to reach for it, it was clear her arm was not long enough for the job.

'Wait, let me…' John tried to stop her.

'Father, I've got this.' Anna brushed his help off as she tried to stretch as far as she could, even daring to stand on tiptoes.

'Anna, don't do that, you'll fall!' John warned, instinctively holding her feet on the step. 'I should be the one doing that.'

'Nonsense! I can do it.'

'My leg rarely bothers me...if that's what you're worried about. I climb all the time and walk miles too.'

'So…' she looked down at him, shooting him a cheeky grin, 'you walk around with your cane just to look charming?'

'Oh, Blimey!' John laughed. 'I've been caught out.'

Anna rolled her eyes at him before trying one more time. She stretched out again, her tongue poking from the side of her mouth in concentration. Her fingertips touched the wooden box, but not much more than that...just a little more...if only she...one more millimetre only...

'Careful!' he shouted as he saw her losing balance, and with no time to think, he pulled her down into his arms.

'I'm so sorry…' she gasped, twisting around and bringing one hand to her chest, the other was around his neck. 'I…'

'Lost your balance. Didn't I say?' he replied, taking in the realisation of his arms around her waist, their bodies as close as humanly possible. Anna faced him then, their eyes meeting, the silence of the room echoing in their ears. They were alone, no one to judge them, no one to stop them. They felt each other's warmth, each other's breathing.

'Yes…' she replied, her eyes never leaving his. His eyes were focused on her lips. It was a force that came from nowhere, but also from everything around them. It was pure energy, pure attraction, and without thinking, without measuring sense or danger, they were drawn to each other, closer and closer, Anna tilted her head, their lips mere inches apart.

John's grip around her became tighter, almost possessive.

His scent was heady, of aftershave and coffee, and a hint of salty sweat. It invaded her senses, no questions asked. And she was sweet. Sweet as a summer breeze, freshly caressed by the morning dew, blooming flowers, peppermint tea and lavender soap.

Oh, so close… Their eyes were closed, their lips were parted. They could almost taste each other...

'I've brought you some-Oh!'

The cook's voice made them jump, and instantaneously they stepped back. Hearts beating fast and nervous, their breathing erratic.

'Mrs Patmore! Come in,' Father John spoke at last, after a few seconds of intense staring - back and forth. His throat was dry; he cleared it soundly.

'I hope I'm not interrupting-.'

'No!' They both answered in unison, making the cook cock her brow at them.

'We were just…'

'I fell from the ladder,' Anna answered with an awkward smile, trying to make it sound as normal and innocent as possible. 'If Father John wasn't here you would have found me dead on the floor.'

'Goodness me! You should keep him around then…in case you need saving again.'

The priest and the teacher eyed each other while the cook placed the tray on one of the nightstands. 'I brought you some lemonade. Hard working folks deserve a cool drink.'

'Thank you, Mrs Patmore,' Father John smiled at the cook, his heart still loud in his ears.

'Sister Madeleine will be coming home from the hospital later today. I just thought you needed reminding.' Mrs P chuckled to herself as she walked out of the room with one last glance toward the two.

Anna let loose of a big breath and for the first time, she noticed her trembling knees, racing heart, and sweaty hands. John had walked toward one of the windows, trying to understand what had almost happened just moments before.

'I'm sorry.' she said, her voice quiet, unsure, unable to look at him just yet. The strength of his arms, though, could still be felt around her waist, the caress of his breath on her skin.

'No, it's all right.' He turned to her with a shy smile. 'I...it's just...it was nothing...'

Nothing? Funny. Usually, nothing doesn't feel so strong, so powerful, so overwhelmingly real.

'Let's drink our lemonade. I could use some cooling down,' Anna suggested, but that didn't come out the way she intended. 'I mean…'

'Yes…' John nodded. 'I need to go back to the office afterwards and add these new items to our list.'

'I can help you with that too...if you want,' she offered. She realised he might not want her to, but the need to be around him was as strong as ever. For some reason, she felt there was something else, something more to happen.

'Thank you, Anna, I do want.' He smiled at her. In his heart, he wanted her around him always, but in his mind, he knew they were steps from the abyss. He found he didn't care.

John didn't know it yet, but they were already falling. And soon enough, they would hit the ground, for good or bad.

'I had the folder right here…' John groaned, going through his desk drawers. He was always so organised, and now, he couldn't find the list of items they had worked so hard writing down to sell.

'Maybe you misplaced it,' Anna said, looking around his office trying to understand where else he could have put it.

'I probably did. There's been so much going on lately.' John sighed tiredly. His mind running one hundred miles per second, thinking about everything they needed to do, everything they had done...especially about what had almost happened. 'Can you check over there?' he pointed to a side table next to the door that led to his bedroom.

Anna nodded, walking to it. 'Oh, your Bible is here too on the floor. It must have fallen off.'

When he looked, she was reaching for it, and in that very moment he froze. 'Wait, don't-,' and in the next, he watched as she picked the Holy Book off the floor, together with the list they had been working on and a photograph of a young baby, not one-year-old yet, dark hair, round face, a sweet, loving smile.

'Oh!' Anna exclaimed, kneeling down to gather everything at once. 'I found it! I found the list.'

He was there with her in a flash, and she noticed the urgency in his expression, the frown on his brow, the panic. 'I'm sorry, Father. Is everything all right?' She held the photo in her hand.

'It's all right. Don't worry.' John told her, taking the picture from her fingers and holding it tenderly to his heart. Maybe it was just meant to happen this way.

'Is it you?' she asked, out of pure curiosity. Who else could it be? He had no siblings; he had never worked with children before. A cousin? A friend's child?

'No, it's not me.' He sighed again, this time sadly, heartbroken, he looked at the photograph with a longing so intense she had been able to feel it in her heart.

Indeed, it had been meant to happen that way, else, she would never know. Else he would never have the courage to tell her.

'He's...he's my son.'

Next Chapter: Revelations.

Thank you for reading :)