Three o'clock came and went. After it became clear that no more dramatics were forthcoming and that there really were no drinks to be had, the crowd drifted out of Fitzgerald's in twos and threes. Brendan, Siobhan, Padraig, Michael and Peter stayed to lend a hand, but shortly after Peter jogged off toward the empty field the local footballers used for practice, the others found excuses to take their leave as well.

Left alone, Assumpta let out a sigh that was half relief, half regret and flopped into an easy chair. The impact of her body sent up a puff of air that smelled faintly of smoke, but mostly of the fresh air and sunshine the chair had soaked up during its time out in front of the pub. Assumpta surveyed the room and decided that the rest of the bar was in about the same condition. It still needed fresh paint here and there and she hadn't bothered to shine the brass yet. The floor was scarred, but it was getting a sanding and new coat of varnish tomorrow afternoon and should come out looking better than it had before. The place had been scrubbed within an inch of its life. With a new carpet and some new curtains – the ones Niamh had taken home to wash had come back in tatters – it would be well on its way to welcoming customers again.

Assumpta made a mental list of jobs yet to be done and supplies and stock to be gotten in. It would be tight, but she thought she could reasonably plan a grand reopening for Friday night and not miss another weekend of income. She'd call the kitchen staff and extra bartenders who helped out at special events and see if they could come in. There should be a banner across the front of the pub and maybe some posters around town, though word-of-mouth advertising always worked best in Ballykea. And she'd have to do something about music – not a band though, at the prices they charged. A D.J.? She wondered if Kathleen's nephew…what was his name? David? Daniel?...was still running the radio station at the hospital. Peter would know. At the thought, her eyes drifted to the door. You're doing it again!

She rose and puttered around the bar, putting away cleaning supplies and straightening things there was really no need to straighten as the afternoon waned and the light grew dimmer and dimmer. Soon it would be too dark to work any longer, and Niamh would be wondering what was keeping her. She would probably be required to rehash the events of the day, or at least listen as Niamh and Ambrose rehashed them.

A wave of exhaustion swept away the last of the adrenaline that had gotten Assumpta through the afternoon. She could not possibly move one more step, face one more person. She slid onto a barstool and leaned on the bar, resting her head on her folded arms. Just a minute or two of solitude and then she would lock up. Her eyes drifted closed and her thoughts slowed to a drowsy haze. She had very nearly fallen asleep when the door opened and Peter came in. He peered around the room, unable to see anything but obscure shapes in the twilight. "Assumpta?" he called quietly.

She startled, lifted her head. "Here."

Closing the door behind him, he crossed the room to her. Her hair was tousled and her skin flushed. She gave him a sleepy smile. It was impossible not to touch her. He lifted his hand, drew his fingertips softly across her cheek, heard her soft intake of breath. The power of his response to her was terrifying. Every emotion, feeling, sensation he'd spend the better part of a decade training himself not to feel rushed through his body at once. He dropped his hand, took an involuntary half-step backwards.

Assumpta looked at him quizzically. "All right?"

"Yeah." He sat on the stool next to her and drew a shaky breath. "It's just…I don't know. It was a big day."

"For me, too."

He nodded. "I know. Were you sleeping just now?"

Assumpta sighed. "No. Just…delaying the inevitable."

"Ah, the plight of the refugee."

"Takes one to know one. Didn't Brian give you a curfew?"

Peter chuckled. "I told him I needed to get something from the shed. I'm not sure what it is yet, though."

"Well, watch out for the tenants when you go…" Assumpta's voice trailed off and a frown came over her face as she trained her eyes on the window beside the door.

Peter turned to look, too. "What?"

"Shhh…" Assumpta whispered. "I thought I saw…there!"

It was on the other side of the door now, but the form looking through the window was unmistakable, even in the near-dark. Not too tall, black jacket, thick gray hair. It was Father Mac.

"Who does he think he is?" Assumpta hissed. She slid off her stool and started for the door, but Peter caught her wrist.

"Wait."

She stared daggers at him, but stood still, and after a moment the figure outside the window walked away. Assumpta jerked her arm out of Peter's grasp. "He was spying on us."

"Either that or looking for a cup of tea."

"It's not funny!"

"Sorry. Look, Assumpta, he can't have seen us. I could barely see you after I was all the way through the door."

"That's not the point!" Her voice rose indignantly. "What's he going to do for fun once he doesn't have you to babysit anymore?"

"Babysit the next fellow, I suppose."

"And what are you going to do?" The question hung in the air for a moment while she struggled for control. "Listen, Peter, I'm too tired for this right now. I'm going to go to Niamh's before I say something I really regret."

She was halfway to the door before Peter, his head spinning, got to his feet. "Assumpta, wait!" He followed her onto the sidewalk, where she already had the key in the lock.

"No. Not tonight, Peter. I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

He stared after her retreating form helplessly. "See you then," he called after her. How had a day that had begun with such hope ended like this? It was not at all the good-night he'd been hoping for.

---

Morning dawned dreary and wet. Peter gave his head a shake to clear the raindrops from his eyes as his bicycle coasted down the road from the Quigley residence to the village. There had been no response but a discouraging clicking sound when he'd tried to start his little red car on Saturday, so he'd left it where it sat in front of the curate's house. He'd never much liked that car anyway. But now, as dampness seeped through the shoulders of his jacket he was beginning to think perhaps he should have tried a little harder.

Maybe she'll have the fire going, he thought hopefully, propping the bike next to Fitzgerald's blue door. He was in favor of anything that might help restore the easy camaraderie of working alongside Assumpta. He still was not sure where last night had gone wrong, but he wanted desperately to make it right. He took a deep breath, opened the door, and knew immediately the day was headed in a different direction altogether.

"What, are you throwing me out of my own pub now?" Assumpta stood, hands on hips, glaring at Brian. "How am I supposed to be ready for a grand reopening on Friday if I lose a full day's work?"

Brian held his ground. "You can't reopen at all without electrical," he fired back, "and we can't be climbing over mop buckets and paint cans every time we need to run a wire!"

"You could have mentioned this yesterday, Brian. What do you expect me to do with myself all day?"

"How should I know? Go and drink tea with Niamh! Don't you have some errands you can run?" He nodded towards Peter, standing just inside the door. "Take him with you, why don't you? Sure, he doesn't have anything better to do!"

Assumpta registered Peter's presence for the first time, but her expression didn't soften. She fairly growled in frustration, grabbed her coat from its peg and stormed toward the door. Halfway out, she turned to glare back at him. "Well? Are you coming or not?"

---

"So, Kieran, what should you and Mummy do today?" Niamh wondered. Filling the kettle at her kitchen sink, she looked out at the dismal morning. Two raindrops joined forces to become a larger rivulet in their journey across the windowpane. "I suppose a walk down to the lake is out of the question."

Her Maternity and Infant magazines, which she had enthusiastically subscribed to before Kieran was born, were full of lovely outings for mother and baby. Museums, playgroups, exercise classes – all fine if you lived in London or Dublin, but not likely in Ballykissangel. There was never a column on how to amuse yourself and your baby on a rainy day in rural Ireland when the pub's shut for repairs. And this morning, with Ambrose on duty in his office and Assumpta off working on the clean-up at Fitzgerald's…well, what was that old song about rainy days and Mondays?

Niamh carried the kettle to the cooker and turned the heat on under it. She was halfway through filling a bottle for Kieran when the doorbell rang. "Come in!" she called out. Nothing. Heaving an exasperated sigh, she put the bottle down and went to see who it was. She found Siobhan on the doorstep, huddling inside a raincoat and peering through the rain at something going on down the street. Following her gaze, Niamh saw Assumpta's van start up and pull away from the curb.

Both women raised their hands in greeting as the van passed with Assumpta at the wheel and Peter beside her. Siobhan grinned. "Going off unsupervised, so," she observed archly. "Yesterday at the pub you'd have thought they'd never set eyes on each other before."

Niamh's eyes opened wide. "How did you know?" she demanded.

Siobhan shrugged, still grinning. "Oh, Brendan told me, officially," she answered, "but it's no real surprise, is it? The way they've been dancin' around each other the past couple of years." She nodded past Niamh. "It's a bit damp out here. All right if I come in?"

"Sorry." Niamh swung the door wide and stepped back to let Siobhan through. "Are you looking for Ambrose?"

"No, I'm looking for you."

Niamh could not recall that Siobhan had ever come calling before. They would chat at the pub or the shop, of course, but there were quite a few years between them and, though Niamh would never admit it aloud, she was a little intimidated by Siobhan's easy intellect and who knew how many years of education. 'No real surprise,' is it? she scoffed to herself. Some of us were surprised enough.

A shrill whistle from below reminded her what she'd been doing before the doorbell rang. "There's the kettle," she said aloud. "Hang up your coat and come have a cup of tea with me." She descended the stairs to the kitchen and was filling two mugs and the pan she used for warming Kieran's bottle when Siobhan joined her. "No calls for you this morning?" The vet always seemed to be on her way off to one farm or another.

"I wish," Siobhan answered grimly. "I've got to go and see about one of Will Ritchey's cows that's come up lame. Nothing better in a downpour than looking at cow feet."

Niamh glanced at her with interest. "I always thought you loved your job," she remarked, waving Siobhan towards a seat at the table.

"And I thought you loved being a mother, but it doesn't seem to stop you from climbing the walls some days."

"Well, aren't you just full of observations this morning!" Niamh retrieved Kieran from his bassinet and came to sit across from Siobhan.

The older woman watched her settle the baby into the crook of her arm. "So…what's it like?"

"What's what like?" Niamh asked, reaching for her tea with her free hand.

Siobhan made a vague gesture in the air. "Pregnancy, childbirth, motherhood…you know, the whole bit."

Niamh raised her eyebrows. "In twenty-five words or less? Thinking of taking it up yourself, are you?"

"I am, actually." The fact that this was so hard for everyone to imagine was beginning to irritate Siobhan. "I'm pregnant."

Niamh's mouth dropped open, then spread into a wide, sparkling smile. "Siobhan! Congratulations! That's wonderful news!"

Siobhan's irritation dissolved and she felt the unexpected prickling of tears behind her eyes. "Well, thank you. I haven't been getting that reaction from too many people."

"Why not? Of course it's wonderful!" But it occurred to Niamh suddenly that Siobhan's situation was a bit different from her own. With effort she reined in her excitement. "I mean, it is, isn't it?"

"Yes." There was a hint of hesitation in Siobhan's reply. "It is, I think. A bit…em…unexpected, is all."

Niamh removed the bottle from the pan and tested the temperature of its contents on the inside of her wrist. She offered it to Kieran, then settled in for the details. "How are you feeling so far?"

Siobhan shrugged. "Knackered. I haven't tossed my breakfast yet, but I feel as though I'm just about to most of the time. At this rate I'm going to gain eighty pounds on biscuits."

"You poor thing." Niamh paused and gathered her courage for a moment before venturing, "And, the father…?"

"Is Brendan."

Niamh's mouth dropped open again, but this time she burst into such peals of laughter that Kieran jumped and choked on his milk. Niamh lifted him to her shoulder and patted his back. "Siobhan Mehigan!" she exclaimed.

"I know, I know," Siobhan replied sheepishly. "There was rather a lot of whiskey involved."

Niamh shook her head, still chuckling, and resumed Kieran's feeding. "You've told him, I hope?"

"Of course, I've told him!"

"How'd he take it?"

"Behaved like a total ass. He's been falling all over himself for the better part of a week trying to make up for it."

Niamh was off on another peal of laughter.

"Go on, have your fun." Siobhan sipped her tea.

With effort, Niamh regained her composure. "I'm sorry," she sputtered, eyes dancing with suppressed mirth. "It's just…first Assumpta and Peter, now you and Brendan…is there something in the water over at Fitzgerald's, or what?"

"Have you ever seen anyone drink water at Fitzgerald's?"

"Well, you won't have much choice now. No alcohol, no soft cheese, no shellfish…have they added anything in the past two months?"

Siobhan made a face. "Seems like the only interesting thing that's not on the list is sex."

"You might want to go a bit easy on Brendan, then, don't you think?"

"Niamh!"

Niamh shrugged. "I'm only saying, at some point you may find you want a partner – of some kind – and it would be too bad to have burned your bridges."

"I don't want to give him the satisfaction."

The look Niamh gave her was reminiscent of the one Siobhan had seen her use on the unruly boys in Brendan's class. "Are you asking for my advice, Siobhan? Because I'm about to give it to you."

"Since when do you wait to be asked?"

There was that look again. Siobhan threw up her hands. "All right, all right, I'm asking!"

Niamh nodded. "Good. First off, I can't imagine doing this," she tipped her head towards Kieran, "all on my own. I mean, I know people do, but personally I'll take all the help I can get."

Siobhan nodded. "Fair enough."

Niamh continued. "Now. Put yourself in Brendan's shoes for a minute. He's just found out he's going to be a father, and he's a bit shocked, of course, because he'd probably just about given up on that possibility. And then on top of it all he's got to wait on your say so to find out not just whether he gets to have anything at all to do with the baby but also whether he's lost his best friend. You can understand why he might be a bit panicked."

Siobhan gaped at her. She'd been so wrapped up in having been slighted that she'd completely overlooked how Brendan must be feeling. When exactly had Niamh Egan become so insightful? "Been taking counseling training from Peter, have you then, Niamh?" she asked finally.

Niamh set the empty bottle on the table and settled Kieran against her shoulder, patting his back. "No. But someone's going to have to keep this place in line while he's gone."

Siobhan's brow furrowed. "What do you mean, 'gone'?" she demanded.

"Oh, didn't you hear that part? The latest from Father Mac is that Peter's got to clear out 'til the new priest gets settled. He's given him a week to figure out where he's going to go."

"You've got to be joking."

"Not judging by the look on Assumpta's face when she told me."

"Of all the idiotic…" Siobhan broke off and pressed her lips together angrily. "We can't let that happen, you know. You saw how Assumpta was the last time Peter left town; she won't have any customers left if it happens again."

"What on earth are we going to do about it?"

"I don't know yet." Siobhan drained the last of her tea and stood to go. "But we're two of the three smartest women in town. We'll figure something out."

Niamh found herself agreeing. She sat holding the now-sleeping Kieran and listening to the door close behind Siobhan. In the space of an hour she'd gone from bewailing her loneliness to doling out advice and plotting against the Church. Not a bad morning's work at all.