Chapter 10 – Gifts & Proposals

The cottage was a lot smaller inside than she had imagined, much too diminutive for a man who was 6ft 2inches tall! The furniture had seen better days and the walls were in desperate need of a lick of paint. Assumpta sat perched on the edge of a battered green armchair in the front room whilst Peter made them both a cup of tea in the tiny kitchen next door. She'd stood on the threshold of his home many times (mainly to argue with him!) but had never been inside, until now. The whole of their 'relationship' had been conducted in and around Fitzgerald's.

As he entered the room, unconsciously ducking down to avoid the low door lintel, Assumpta felt a familiar quickening in her stomach. She couldn't help it, he looked so handsome. She smiled to herself as she noticed one or two chest hairs peeping over the edge of the open neck of his black shirt. She'd been fascinated by them as she'd lain in his arms after they had made love last night, toying with them with her fingers. There were just a dozen or so on his otherwise hairless chest.

Peter handed Assumpta a mug of hot tea before sitting down on an equally shabby chair opposite her.

"Tea, the Englishman's answer to everything!" she teased as she took the beaker from him.

They sat in silence for a minute or so, sipping their drinks, neither of them sure what to say. Eventually Assumpta spoke.

"Well, what did Father Mac say?"

Peter recounted what had happened in the Presbytery that morning. Assumpta wasn't too surprised as he recalled how Frank Macanally had been atypically empathetic to his request.

"He visited me, too. Just before I came here," Assumpta told Peter, "There was none of his usual supercilious comments. It was as if he was trying to make sure I was 100% committed to you, as if he was trying to protect you. If I didn't know better, I'd have thought he had some personal understanding of our situation."

Peter smiled knowingly to himself. He suspected his superior had more than a perception of their circumstance - his strange behaviour around Nainsi Maguire; his gift to her of a framed newspaper cutting (a photograph including him and her mother), and, of course, Kathleen Hendley's sporadic confession about 'standing between two people who were in love, a long time ago'. Had the older priest been involved in a love affair twenty or so years ago?

"I think you could be right," Peter replied as he took the empty mug from Assumpta. He disappeared into the kitchen, aware he may have said too much. Seconds later, she heard him open a cupboard followed by the rustling and shuffling of paper. When he returned, Peter was carrying an A4 padded brown envelope. He knew its contents would stop her from asking any awkward questions about Father Mac.

"This is for you," he stated firmly as he handed it over.

Assumpta looked at him perplexed. She had absolutely no idea what was in it.

"What's this?" she enquired.

Peter didn't speak but gestured to her to open it. He watched nervously as she carefully slid her slender finger under the sealed flap and gently loosened the join. Assumpta's eyes widened as she revealed one of a bundle of banknotes - a thousand punts in total!

"Oh my God, you've been systematically embezzling the collection box for months!" she exclaimed.

"Ha! Ha! That would have only raised about two punts!" Peter replied sarcastically, "No, it's for you, to get someone in to re-wire Fitzgerald's. My mam left me a substantial amount of money in her will, for my future."

"I can't take this," Assumpta exclaimed stuffing the money back into the envelope as quickly as she could, before thrusting the package back at him. Peter held his hand up to stop her. He took hold of her gently by the wrists and pulled her towards him, the package wedged precariously between them. Peter looked at her directly in the eyes before declaring,

"Assumpta, you're my future. If you don't get that wiring repaired soon, God know what will happen!"

He stared at her silently for several seconds, pleading with his expressive green eyes.

"You could get hurt," he continued in a whisper, "And I couldn't bear that."

For a moment, Assumpta felt ashamed, she was so used to being independent, not having to rely on anyone that she hadn't considered Peter's feelings at all.

"Okay, Peter, you win. Thank you! But I'm going to pay you back every penny."

Peter let out a long sigh and raised his eyebrows in relief, the right one characteristically higher than the left. It was a start. If they were going to make their relationship work, they would both have to learn to trust the other. He let go of Assumpta's wrists and wrapped his arms around her back before kissing her gently on the top of her head.

"It's your stubbornness I love the most!" he joked.

She punched him playfully before stretching up to him. Their lips met and they kissed lovingly for several seconds. Immediately afterwards, Peter slipped his hand into his trouser pocket.

"My mam also left me something else. She told me I had to give it to you."

Assumpta was puzzled, she'd never met Peter's mother. Why would she have left her something in her will? Without any warning, Peter lowered his gangly frame onto one knee in front of her. In his hands was a small blue velvet box.

"Assumpta Fitzgerald, will you marry me?"

For the second time in less than ten minutes, Assumpta stood open-mouthed. Without waiting for a reply, Peter opened the box to reveal a beautiful square cut diamond ring with a pale green emerald either side.

"My dad gave it to my mam. She said the first thing she'd ever noticed about him was his eyes. The emeralds were to remind her of them. She told me I have exactly the same eyes."

Peter reached for Assumpta's hand but she pulled it away. He looked at her, those same green eyes filled with hurt and disbelief. At that moment, Peter had the look of a small boy who had been chastised for something he hadn't done.

"It's beautiful, Peter," Assumpta eventually replied, her voice cracking as she did, "But I can't. Not now."

Tears were forming in the corner of Peter's eyes. He didn't comprehend Assumpta's reaction. She said she loved him. She'd made it very clear she didn't want to be his mistress, so why wouldn't she agree to marry him?

"I don't understand," he stuttered.

Assumpta reached for Peter's hands and held them tightly as she spoke.

"I love you more than I've ever loved anyone, Peter. You are my soul-mate, my true-love, of that I have absolutely no doubt. I want to be your wife someday, more than anything, but now is not the time - I'm still married to Leo and you're still a priest. When I say 'Yes', I don't want there to be anything standing in our way. Do you understand?"

Peter nodded as relief flooded through every cell in his body. In spite of her fiery nature and her anti-religious attitudes, Assumpta Fitzgerald was still an old-fashioned Irish girl at heart!

-o-

She led him up the narrow staircase, determined to show him how much she loved him.

Upstairs, in Peter's bedroom, it was even more austere than in the rest of the cottage. There was just a small, single metal-framed bed (hardly big enough for a child, let alone a man of Peter's build); an old mahogany chest of drawers and a chair over which was draped a pair of grey sweatpants and a red and white football shirt for a team she didn't recognise. It wasn't the furniture that unnerved Assumpta; it was the crucifix above the bed.

Peter began to kiss her hungrily but she wasn't reciprocating. Something wasn't right and so he stopped.

"Assumpta, what's wrong?" he asked gently.

She was staring directly at the religious symbol.

"Peter….I can't…not with that there," she whispered.

Assumpta watched as Peter lifted the cross off the bent nail that had held it in position for the past three years. She smiled as she watched him kiss the metal representation of Jesus before placing it in one of the drawers of the bedside chest. Peter turned to face her, his face gently reddening with embarrassment as he realised what he'd just done. It would be hard to eradicate the habits that had become second nature to him in the last ten or so years as a seminarian, a deacon and a priest.

-o-

The 'phone was ringing loudly. Assumpta was sleeping contentedly in his arms. Peter carefully eased himself away, trying his best not to disturb her. As he laid her back on the mattress, she gave out a little moan before re-positioning herself in the bed. Peter quickly pulled on his tracksuit bottoms and Middlesbrough shirt and headed down the stairs, two at a time.

-o-

From the bedroom doorway, Peter watched Assumpta's slumbering form, curled up in his bed. He marveled at how she could look so stunning even in her sleep - her dark auburn hair cascading haphazardly on his pillow, contrasting with the delicate translucency of her skin. He couldn't wait for the day when he could wake up next to her every morning.

Quietly he tiptoed over to the bed, knelt down beside it and planted a gentle kiss on her cheek. Her eyes fluttered as they adjusted to the light.

"Peter," she murmured sleepily.

"Sorry, love, I've got to go," Peter whispered in his lilting northern English tones, "That was Father Mac on the 'phone. The Bishop has summonsed us both to Dublin for an audience at 7.00 p.m."

Assumpta glanced at the clock on the chest of drawers. There was a glint in her eye as she turned to face him again.

"Oh no you don't! It's only 3.20 p.m. and you've got plenty of time," she uttered, taking hold of the bottom of his football shirt and pulling it back over his head, "You're mine, Peter Clifford, for at least another hour!"

She met no resistance!