A/N: Rather dialogue-heavy - sorry! I don't know why I did that,
considering how my dialogue goes. I hope it's passable.
He sat down in the chair. It felt surprisingly good to be back at the rectory, on familiar territory.
That, of course, was until the familiar face of Mrs. Flanagan appeared.
"Good day, Father!" the housekeeper said. Paul groaned inwardly, but kept a smile on his face.
"Hello, Mrs. Flanagan." He hoped she would just go away.
Again, Paul was surprised. "The bishop wants to speak to you. He's already here - he wanted to talk to you right away." Mrs. Flanagan then left Paul to an even greater terror.
"Damn it all. . ." he muttered.
"Damn what?" said a voice. Paul flinched. Wonderful, now the bishop had caught him swearing. . .
"I'm sorry, your Excellency."
The bishop nodded. "Welcome back to America, Father." He then began to ask questions.
Paul answered them all, from details about Donovan O'Rossa's funeral and the trip on the boat to his account of the Easter Uprising. Then the bishop asked the question he knew would come:
"And what about the woman?"
Paul winced. "Yes?"
"Have you given the matter any thought?"
*Have I given it any thought. . . If I gave it any more thought I'd never think about anything else.*
"Yes."
"And your decision is?" The bishop stared straight at him.
"I haven't decided anything yet. I. . ." he trailed off.
"You will have to, you know. Do you want to stay in the church or leave it?" The bishop's voice clearly betrayed his opinion. Paul just nodded.
"Soon." With that, the bishop left him.
He sat there. Then he lowered his head into his hands. "Damn it all again."
"What did you say, Father O'Shaughnessy?" Mrs. Flanagan's voice broke into his misery as she whisked in with a duster.
"I said 'damn it all again.' " He didn't bother to look up. He knew exactly what look would be on the housekeeper's face.
"Father-"
"I have to go out now and to talk to someone. I'll be back." He went to his room to change. He didn't hear Mrs. Flanagan scolding him or see her wagging the duster at him.
He sat down in the chair. It felt surprisingly good to be back at the rectory, on familiar territory.
That, of course, was until the familiar face of Mrs. Flanagan appeared.
"Good day, Father!" the housekeeper said. Paul groaned inwardly, but kept a smile on his face.
"Hello, Mrs. Flanagan." He hoped she would just go away.
Again, Paul was surprised. "The bishop wants to speak to you. He's already here - he wanted to talk to you right away." Mrs. Flanagan then left Paul to an even greater terror.
"Damn it all. . ." he muttered.
"Damn what?" said a voice. Paul flinched. Wonderful, now the bishop had caught him swearing. . .
"I'm sorry, your Excellency."
The bishop nodded. "Welcome back to America, Father." He then began to ask questions.
Paul answered them all, from details about Donovan O'Rossa's funeral and the trip on the boat to his account of the Easter Uprising. Then the bishop asked the question he knew would come:
"And what about the woman?"
Paul winced. "Yes?"
"Have you given the matter any thought?"
*Have I given it any thought. . . If I gave it any more thought I'd never think about anything else.*
"Yes."
"And your decision is?" The bishop stared straight at him.
"I haven't decided anything yet. I. . ." he trailed off.
"You will have to, you know. Do you want to stay in the church or leave it?" The bishop's voice clearly betrayed his opinion. Paul just nodded.
"Soon." With that, the bishop left him.
He sat there. Then he lowered his head into his hands. "Damn it all again."
"What did you say, Father O'Shaughnessy?" Mrs. Flanagan's voice broke into his misery as she whisked in with a duster.
"I said 'damn it all again.' " He didn't bother to look up. He knew exactly what look would be on the housekeeper's face.
"Father-"
"I have to go out now and to talk to someone. I'll be back." He went to his room to change. He didn't hear Mrs. Flanagan scolding him or see her wagging the duster at him.