O'Kelly's Garage was looking exceptionally clean, with every mobile vehicle cleared out and the floor thoroughly swept. A hodgepodge of folding tables and chairs was scattered throughout the room. Liam and Donal, who had arrived earlier than anyone else, had bypassed the chairs in favor of two piles of tires at the back of the garage where they now sat, leaning back against the wall and well into their first drinks. They raised their bottles in greeting as Niamh and Ambrose walked in.

"Hello, boys!" Niamh chose a seat and watched, shaking her head fondly, as her husband, clad in his gard's uniform, cast a sternly appraising eye around the room. Michael Ryan arrived and sat down next to her.

"What's going on?" the doctor asked.

Niamh rolled her eyes. "Oh, you know Ambrose. He's got to make sure Padraig's not causing the fabric of the community to unravel with his little makeshift pub here."

Padraig hoisted a crate of bottles down from a stack against the wall and carried it to the front of the room where Ambrose was standing. The bottles clinked musically as he set it down on the floor. "You've no cause for concern, Ambrose. I've come into possession of more beer than I can drink myself, so I've invited my friends to help me out, that's all."

"And I'm to believe you're not profiting in any way, am I?" the gard asked. The host shrugged his shoulders. "Believe what you like," he replied amiably. "Good company's the only profit I'm looking for."

Ambrose's eye settled on an empty jar on the table nearest the drinks. "What's this, then?" he demanded, with an air of triumph.

Padraig turned the jar so that Ambrose could see the hand-lettered label, which read Peter Clifford Unemployment Fund. "Free-will offering. If people want to toss in the cost of a pint, it'll go to soften the blow of going from being paid a pittance to not being paid at all."

Ambrose looked a bit deflated. He gave the older man a final hard stare. "Well," he said finally, settling his cap back on his head, "see that you keep the noise down."

"I'll do what I can," Padraig replied cheerfully, selecting three bottles from the crate. "Come back for a drink later, will you?"

"I might, at that." Ambrose's sudden grin made him look more like a twelve-year-old boy than an officer of the law as he walked back into the twilight to continue his patrol.

Padraig handed drinks to Niamh and Michael. "So Brian's babysitting tonight, is he?" he asked.

Niamh nodded. "Said he'd been working in a pub all day and he fancied an evening in. I left him and Kieran watching the news together." She put the bottle down on the table and wrinkled her nose at the soot on her fingers. "What on earth's in here, anyway?"

"No idea," Padraig grinned. "That's the fun of it. Give it here; I'll clean it off for you." He wiped the bottle with a rag and handed it back, asking mischievously, "You're not worried it'll corrupt the lad's world view to watch the news with your father?"

Niamh's eyes twinkled. "Not worried enough to give up an evening out."

"How're things coming along at Fitzgerald's?" Michael inquired. "Have they finished the wiring?"

Niamh nodded, taking an experimental sip of her drink. "Apparently the floors are done too, though I haven't seen them myself. Assumpta was sick in bed all afternoon. I don't know how she convinced my father to let her stay in the pub while they were working, but she did."

Michael raised an eyebrow. "She seems to be all right now," he observed, nodding toward the door.

"I like what you've done with the place," Assumpta called to Padraig. She waved to Niamh and Michael and headed to join them, but before she reached the table a bundle of red fur burst through the door and skidded to a stop in front of her, wriggling all over with excitement. "Easy there, Fionn," Assumpta laughed, kneeling to rub the dog's ears.

Kevin arrived in pursuit of the dog. "Sorry, Dad," he said. "I thought he was asleep there under the table, but he must have heard Assumpta. Just perked up his ears and took off."

"It's no problem." Padraig put his arm around his son's shoulders. It was going to be hard for the boy when Assumpta took the dog home, he knew.

Assumpta looked up, her arm around Fionn's neck, and smiled warmly. "Thanks for taking care of him for me, Kev."

Kevin's face turned nearly as red as Fionn's coat and he looked down and kicked at the floor with the toe of his shoe. "It's no big deal," he muttered.

Padraig patted his shoulder. "Go on back in and finish your school work, all right?"

The dog's eyes flickered back and forth between Assumpta's face and the retreating form of Kevin. He whined softly. "All right, go on," Assumpta told him. "I'll come and get you when I'm ready to go home." Fionn raced off after Kevin, nearly knocking him off his feet when he caught up to him. Assumpta shook her head, ruefully. "You're not kidding about him having forgotten whose dog he is," she said to Padraig. "I think we're going to have to work out some sort of joint custody arrangement."

A chorus of greetings heralded the arrival of Brendan and Siobhan. Niamh could scarcely wait until it died down before beckoning Siobhan off to the side. Brendan went to get himself a drink and Assumpta took a seat next to Michael.

"I hear you were under the weather earlier today," he said quietly.

Assumpta rolled her eyes. "There really is no privacy around here, is there?"

Michael smiled and shrugged. "Not much," he admitted. "One of your headaches, was it?"

Assumpta sighed. "Yeah. I slept it off."

"You know, there are other medications we can try…"

"Oh, the one you gave me works wonders," Assumpta assured him. "It's just that I ran out a couple of weeks ago and haven't had the prescription refilled."

"Ah." Michael nodded his understanding.

"I have had a few things on my mind," Assumpta went on a bit defensively, "what with the fire and the repairs and…" she stopped talking abruptly and bit her lip.

"And…?" the doctor prompted.

"Well…that's about it, I suppose," Assumpta finished lamely.

"Mmmm." Michael studied her seriously, but Assumpta suspected a smile was lurking behind his professional façade. He leaned close. "You know, I picked up a passenger on my way back from visiting old Mrs. Durgin this morning. Had quite an interesting chat about how he came to be walking the Cilldargen road in the pouring rain"

Assumpta traced a line on the tabletop with her thumbnail, avoiding Michael's gaze. "Is that right?"

Movement beyond Assumpta's shoulder caught Michael's eye. "Ah! Here he is now. Hello, Peter!"

Assumpta let out an exasperated sigh and threw her hands in the air. "I give up!" she exclaimed. "It's pointless to try to keep a secret in this town!"

Padraig appeared at Peter's elbow. "What secret?" he inquired and then, without waiting for an answer, "Will you have a drink, Father?"

---

The evening wore on pleasantly. Various locals wandered into the garage, enjoyed a free drink and a chat, tossed a coin or two into the jar (which Padraig took care to keep hidden from Peter's view) and wandered out again, but the Fitzgerald's regulars all lingered, glad to be gathered in each other's company. By a quarter to ten everyone was clustered around one table, where Siobhan, Padraig and Liam were trying to teach Peter to play twenty-five. Donal had appointed himself as Peter's coach and sat at his elbow making suggestions that usually had the effect of confusing Peter while simultaneously revealing to the rest of the players exactly what cards he was holding. Ambrose had returned and was chatting with Brendan and Michael about recent incidences of graffiti at the youth center.

Niamh pulled her chair closer to Assumpta's. "So, I guess I'm losing my houseguest, then?"

Assumpta nodded. "The power's back on, thanks to your dad, so I'll let your household get back to normal. Thanks for putting up with me for so long."

"Don't be silly. We loved having you." Niamh gave Assumpta a sly glance out of the corner of her eye. "Will you be having any overnight guests of your own?"

"Niamh!" Assumpta's shocked exclamation drew curious glances from the others, and she finished under her breath, "No! And stop making trouble!"

"I'm only asking," Niamh replied innocently. "I should think, given the choice between staying with my father and staying at your place…"

"No one's been given that choice, as far as I know!"

Niamh was enjoying herself immensely. "You know," she went on, "I remember when I was thinking of moving in with Ambrose, Peter said to me…"

Assumpta clapped her hands over her ears. "I do not need to hear Peter's counsel on your love life, thank you very much!" she hissed. Niamh laughed aloud and all eyes turned back in their direction.

"All right, Assumpta?" Padraig inquired mildly.

"Fine, thanks, Padraig," Assumpta replied, glaring at Niamh, who was struggling to compose herself.

Padraig checked the clock on the back wall of the garage. "Better make sure young Kevin's gotten himself into bed. I'll be back in a minute." He placed his cards face down on the table and pushed back his chair. Peter put his cards down, too, and stretched, glad to have a respite from the game. He caught Assumpta's eye and smiled.

Donal helped himself to another drink and returned to his seat next to Peter. He took a sip and savored the beer as though he were at a tasting. "Budweiser, this one. Not bad." He tipped his head back thoughtfully. "Doesn't it seem strange to you that the Americans worked so hard to get rid of the King of England but now they have a 'king of beers'?"

"I can't say I've ever thought much about it," Peter replied.

"Don't feel bad, Peter," Brendan chimed in. "I've never heard the question come up in academic circles either."

Donal was on a roll. "I'll tell you what else I've been wondering." He paused for another sip of beer, and leaned forward earnestly. "Which was the last straw for you, Father…the poverty or the celibacy?"

There was a split second of utter silence followed by a roar of laughter and the sound of Peter choking on his lager. Siobhan pounded him on the back. When the noise died down slightly, Liam piped up, "Sure, you have plenty of experience with both of those yourself, Donal. What do you need to ask him for?" and the hilarity ensued again.

Assumpta leaned toward Niamh. "I think that's my cue to call it an evening," she said. "I hope Ambrose isn't called upon to keep the peace." Throwing her jacket around her shoulders and calling, "Goodnight!" to the group in general, she headed for home.

Padraig returned a moment later with Fionn was on his heels, grinning in anticipation. "What've I missed? Now I know how you feel, Assumpta, always missing the punch--" his sentence hung in the air as he looked around in confusion. "Where'd she go?"

"You just missed her," Brendan told him.

"Damn! She was supposed to take this brute along with her! Peter – grab his leash and go after her, will you? It's on the hook there beside the door."

Peter rose uncertainly. He looked around to Brendan, Siobhan, Niamh and Michael for guidance, but they all seemed to be either contemplating their drinks or eyeing Padriag quizzically. Finally he decided he couldn't very well refuse. Whistling for Fionn, he went out into the night.

The day's rain had gone, but the remnants of rainclouds drifted in front of the waning moon. The air was so still that Peter could hear the river babbling around the rocks near the bridge. Fionn sniffed the air excitedly and capered at the end of the leash. "Oh, I see. You want to run, do you?" Peter said. "All right, then, let's see what you've got!" They took off up the hill, urging each other along until they ran at a full sprint and overtaking Assumpta just as she reached her door.

Assumpta's fingers tightened reflexively on the doorknob at the sound of footsteps pounding behind her. Then Fionn broke away from Peter and wound himself around her legs, tail wagging frantically. Several seconds later, Peter jogged up and collapsed against the wall, panting for air and clutching his side. Assumpta looked from him to Fionn, who looked ready to dash off again at the first provocation. "I think he had you beat," she told Peter.

He grinned, still breathing hard. "Padraig sent me to bring him. Do you think he knows…about us?"

"With the number of times he called you 'Father' tonight?" Assumpta asked derisively. "Not likely."

Peter sobered. "Does that bother you?" Assumpta refused to meet his eyes, dismissing the question with a toss of her head. Peter tried to prepare himself for the onslaught of emotions he knew was coming as he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and turned her to face him. No use. It was like stepping into a cyclone anyway. He forced himself to focus on their conversation. "It's just force of habit," he told her gently. "They'll get over it sooner or later."

The tenderness in his voice made Assumpta feel as though she might fall over. "I know that," she replied, meeting his gaze at last and finding the same tenderness there, "the same way I know that patience is a virtue. It doesn't make it any easier." She folded her arms across her chest and sighed, looking up at the stars.

The faraway look in her eyes tugged at Peter's heart. He knew he was treading dangerously, but he had to ask. "Would you tell me about it sometime? Whatever it was that made you turn against the Church?"

To his surprise, she only sighed and lowered her gaze. "Sometime," she said in a subdued tone, and then with forced lightness, "but not tonight." She lifted her hand to his face, grazing the slight roughness of a day's growth of beard, and took a step towards him. Again Peter willed himself to relax; again the attraction between them was too intense. Assumpta sensed the tension in his body. "Peter? What's wrong?"

He shook his head, angry at himself for being such a child. "It's stupid."

Fionn barked softly as a light flickered on outside Kathleen's door. Assumpta dropped her hand self-consciously and restored the distance between them. "It can't be any worse than my behavior this morning," she said quietly. "Come inside and we can talk about it."

Conflicting emotions played across Peter's face. "I don't think I'd better."

"Walk with me, then. Fionn could use a stretch anyway."

They followed the sound of the water, turning onto a footpath just beyond the bridge. When the willow saplings and underbrush gave way to the Aingeal's pebbly shore, Assumpta let Fionn off his leash and he busied himself investigating all the scents of the riverbank. She sat down on a rock and waited.

Peter stood contemplating the spire of St. Joseph's which rose, illuminated by moonlight, above the village rooftops. "It's very safe, you know," he said at last, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Whatever else you can say about being a priest, it's safe. There's a whole range of emotions…feelings…you never have to deal with." He was thankful for the cloak of darkness, hopeful that it would at least partly hide his embarrassment. "But, now…with you…they're all back with a vengeance." He let out a desperate laugh. "It's ridiculous…and terrifying at the same time. It's like being thirteen all over again."

Assumpta didn't reply immediately. Peter glanced over his shoulder at her, afraid she might be angry, and saw her shoulders shaking. She quickly brought a hand to her face to hide the amusement there. "Are you laughing at me?" he demanded indignantly.

"I'm not," she protested. "Honestly. It's just…"

"You are too! I tell you of my pain, and you laugh!"

"It doesn't sound like pain, exactly," Assumpta struggled to control her mirth. She drew a deep breath and shook her head. "Oh, God, Peter. What a pair we are! It'll be a miracle if we get through all this!"

Peter's face relaxed into a slow smile. "Well, luckily, I believe in miracles."

"I do too, it may surprise you to learn." Assumpta got up and walked to his side, slipped her arm through his.

"That might be dangerous," Peter teased. "You know how thirteen-year-old boys are."

She bumped his arm with her shoulder. "Would you stop saying that? It makes me think of Kevin O'Kelley."

"Case in point."

Assumpta looked up at him. "What does that mean?"

"Oh come on," Peter grinned. "Even the handful of people in town that haven't figured out that I'm in love with you know that Kevin is."

"That's ridiculous!"

He shrugged. "Have it your way."

"He likes my dog…that's all."

Peter chuckled. "Assumpta, it may have been a while since I was actually thirteen, but I can remember it well enough to promise you that there's more to it than the dog."

Assumpta was quiet for a moment, considering. "Well, in that case, maybe I should keep my options open. Kevin's a good-looking kid…and very responsible."

Peter tightened his grip on her arm, pulling her closer to his side. "I'm responsible," he said. "At least until I get within twenty feet of you – then all bets are off."

Assumpta raised her eyebrows. "Oh, yeah? Then how come you haven't kissed me since Manchester?"

Peter nodded, looking at the ground. "Fair enough. Honestly, I'm afraid once I start in, I won't be able to stop. I told you it was stupid."

Assumpta pulled her arm away and turned so that they stood face to face. Her eyes flashed. "Well, you're right. That is stupid." Peter looked up in surprise. "I know you're used to handling everything on your own, Peter…so am I, for that matter, but that won't work anymore. We're going to have to trust each other. Do you really think I'd just fall into bed with you after everything we've talked about? I'm not completely defenseless, you know! And besides that…"

Assumpta was just gathering steam, but the rest of her words were lost as Peter's mouth came down on hers. His hands were firm on her shoulders and after reeling for a moment she slipped her arms around his waist and held on for support. When he released her, she stared up at him, dazed, before dropping her head to his chest. Her voice was muffled in the cloth of his shirt. "I wasn't finished."

Peter grinned broadly. "I decided to concede the point," he told her. He suddenly felt as though he could race Fionn for miles…or keep kissing Assumpta until the sun came up. Instead he simply held her close as the river ran by and the moon continued its trip across the sky.