A few seconds' silence might as well have been forty days in the desert. Finally, Siobhan shook her head. "You're not pregnant, Assumpta."
The young couple sighed with relief.
Now Siobhan blinked twice.
"But I am."
Peter and Assumpta went wide-eyed as their friend held up her evidence.
As it happened, Brendan chose that exact moment to walk through the door. His paperback landed on the floor in an awkward split.
Brendan and Siobhan both looked at Assumpta, and Assumpta immediately sensed their need for a private conversation. Unable to leave the pub unattended, she did the next best thing and gave them a room key.
Peter watched the silent march up the stairs.
"Sure they're both in shock," Assumpta said.
"Kid'll be lucky, though, with the pair of them."
"True enough," she said, reflecting on the beautiful job Brendan had done as her own surrogate father. "Can't think of two better people to throw for that loop."
It was an hour and a half before they emerged. Both looked a bit rumpled, and strangely relaxed in light of the blindsiding news. Their juniors behind the bar pretended not to notice 'till they were out of earshot.
"Peter?"
"Hm?"
"Get the sheets changed in 3, will you?"
He nodded.
Time sped up as winter turned to spring. Ambrose surprised everyone by serving as Niamh's midwife in the back of the unfueled Garda car. Peter fell in love with baby Kieran at first sight, and found himself awash in gratitude that he himself might someday have a chance at fatherhood. Father Dave Tierney's sermons were found to soften considerably if he visited his flask before Mass. Perhaps it was his interim status that made him hard to take seriously. Perhaps it was his unapologetic eye-rolling from the pulpit. Father Mac found himself wondering if the new curate's relationship with the bottle might be grounds to send him on retreat.
Three huge pieces of news arrived the week of Peter's birthday in May. First was the announcement of Timmy's ordination, to be held at St. Joseph's with Father Mac and Bishop Costello preaching and presiding. Peter and Assumpta held hands discreetly in the fifth pew. Niamh sighed with relief at the chance to finally schedule Kieran's christening. Though Timmy's uncle was officially his confessor, even the newly-minted curate sometimes came by the bar to bend Peter's ear with concerns that didn't quite suit that relationship. Peter was honoured by the young man's trust, and he hardly ever threatened him with homicide anymore.
Next was the announcement that His Holiness had released Peter from his vow of celibacy. The mail arrived as Assumpta was out, and in his urgency to tell someone, he phoned his mother.
The third news bulletin was hers. "Peter, they've found a distant recurrence."
His elation froze in place, then plummeted and shattered. "Where?"
"Two spots in my right lung. And potentially one on the brain."
"Mum!"
"Look, Peter, we'll take one more crack at it with the chemo, but...I want to be sure I get to meet this girl whilst I'm still here. Whilst I'm still me."
By the time Assumpta returned, she found a tear-stained Peter alone at the bar with a pint of lager in hand and the lights out above him. She put her arms around him and let him explain in his own time.
They closed the pub for a couple nights to visit Manchester. Assumpta had never been more nervous in her life, and Peter found he had little luck getting her to relax at any point along the journey. No assurances seemed to be working, and she refused a drink either in-flight or at the airport on arrival.
When Mary Margaret opened her door to them, it was an hour 'til dinner. She called down Andrew, who ported their bags to the boys' old bedroom. Ushering them into the sitting room, she outfitted both of them with a kir de peche.
Peter examined the wine cocktail with a familiar cocked eyebrow. "Since when do we do this?"
"Since a couple things. Since I remembered what it was like to meet your father's family, for one. And since your brother got into amateur bartending."
"I'm a bit to blame for that," called down a familiar lilting soprano.
Assumpta took great care not to lose her drink out her nose. "What're you doing here?"
"Visiting my boyfriend, try to talk him into coming and working for me in Dublin. Oh! And being a witness."
"Kate'll be along soon as well," Maggie said. "Few things to pick up, decorations and so on," she gave Peter a knowing look.
He turned to Assumpta. "Hope that's all right. I know you said you didn't want a fuss."
"They all know, then?"
Mary Margaret smiled. "Word gets round fast, I'm afraid. You two come with me. Something to show you."
She led them into her room, and presented a small rectangular box with two rings inside.
"You're under no obligation to use them if they're not your taste, but before George died, we agreed that the first of the children to marry would have the first chance at them. Back then, we even held out a little hope for you," she said, grinning at her middle son.
The young couple exchanged tearful looks.
"They're beautiful," Assumpta said. "I'd be honoured, but..." she turned to Peter, signalling it was up to him.
"Mum," he began.
"Peter, let me do this."
"No, I just...will Kate murder me when she finds out?"
"Only a little."
"The usual, then."
On their last morning in town, Father Burt married them in a simple ceremony in the garden, in ordinary Sunday dress. Kate got a giggle fit during the vow exchange, and soon the only sober-faced guest was Zoe.
"Anglican vows, in this family," Mary Margaret joked later. "Who'd have thought?"
"Perfect balance between the old church and the unchurched," Burt cracked. "Just ask anyone."
From there it was straight to the airport, where they played their favourite game, "Illicit-Couple-Spotting." Assumpta found herself praying for some of the couples to find their way into the light.
When they returned to Ballykissangel, Niamh had proudly prepared "Probably a Wedding Reception" in their honour, having Liam and Donal cross out the first word on the banner once the couple presented the documentation to prove it was official. Brendan delivered a marvelous toast, quoting by turns both James Herriot and Dorothy Day. (Father Mac bribed him with a pint to drop the Carlo Martini references.)
The fourth time Assumpta caught Peter's eyes drifting up the stairs was somewhere between that toast and the expected cake-cutting. She finally called him on it.
"I'm all for sneaking off, but we'll escape no one's notice if we go up there," she whispered.
"We don't have to sneak," he breathed back sheepishly.
"With everything that's been going on, we've barely touched each other in days. Like hell we won't sneak." The devilish glimmer was in her eyes.
He swallowed hard and looked away.
"Don't you dare, Mr. Making-up-for-my-twenties. I'll be damned if you're going to waste what's left of mine." She tapped Niamh on the shoulder and, with a cheek kiss, pressed the cake server into her hand. Niamh was about to protest when she noticed the cash bribe wrapped around the handle. Brightening, she shrugged and ushered the two of them out the back door. When Brendan heard the van's ignition out a nearby window, he bit his tongue.
It wasn't enough to pin down his smirk.
One chapter left to go, and I bet you can guess what I'm using it for!
