Peter thought about the priest perk of uncontested driving credentials now, as he hung on for dear life in the passenger seat of Father Mac's sedan. The older priest had said nothing of where they were going, only ordered his curate into the car. Peter briefly imagined the Gardai pulling his lifeless body from the river the following morning. No doubt a swift acquittal was a perk, too!

As the drive wore on, Peter realised there might be no particular destination. A few miles in, Father Mac broke the silence.

"Don't imagine you're the first priest it's happened to."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Really, to play dumb at this hour!"

Peter turned his smirk toward the window, forgetting the reflection would betray him.

"Wipe the grin off your face, Father. This is serious."

"Sorry."

A few seconds passed before the snort escaped.

"Father Clifford!"

Peter wanted badly to stop giggling; really, he did. Something had come over him and he couldn't suppress it. Nerves? Soon he was shaking, tears on his face, as the bad driver got more and more irate. The older man's frustration only made him want to laugh harder. The notion of the vicious circle struck him pretty funny, too; perhaps he was sleep-deprived.

"Explain yourself!"

Peter fought in vain against the laughter wracking his body. "Forgive me, you sounded like somebody else..."

"I have reason to believe you are in crisis, Peter."

Peter pulled his lips taut in a last-ditch effort to contain the impending guffaw, but it was no use. Father Mac tightened his grip on the wheel. Braking sharply, he veered onto the shoulder.

"If you cannot muster a little contrition-"

Peter rubbed the sore spot where the seatbelt had cut into him. "You haven't yet told me what I've done!"

"You've succumbed to infatuation."

At this, the curate sobered up.

"Coveting, lust, whatever you want to call it."

"I don't think so."

"You believe you're in love, then?"

Peter was beginning to feel the proper amount of irritation. "You don't."

"I wouldn't presume to advise you."

The softspoken, inscrutable MacAnally was far more vexing than the icy, cruel one.

He went on: "I have some firsthand knowledge of these matters. I won't bore you with the specifics. I only ask that before you abandon your life's work, you think carefully about whether you're doing it for true love, or immediate ego gratification."

"In the last year I've thought about little else."

"And what have you concluded?"

"You know my history. Ego gratification I've contended with before. This is different."

"The argument could be made for another reassignment."

"The argument could be made that this reassignment has already proven what I needed to know."

The elder started his engine again and pulled back onto the roadway. Silence persisted until they pulled in front of the curate's house.

"I do commend you for your introspection, Peter. Far better to do the honourable thing than to remain a priest and carry on a tawdry affair in the closet."

Peter froze in his seat, horrified.

Then the laugh attack started again.

"That's what I thought. Blithering arse," muttered Father Mac as he watched Peter stagger to his door.