Vincent and Avril
Chapter 7
"Many Happy Returns"
by Margaret Pattison
"A salsa party?" Oonagh scrunched up her nose in confusion. "What does that have to do with horses?"
"Nothing," Vincent replied. "I mean, it doesn't have to have anything to do with horses. I just thought the yard would be a nice venue. Nice open space, fields around, electrical connection--"
"Manure, mud, manure..." Oonagh ticked off the additional amenities. "And what will Avril think? Giving over the yard for a church festival?"
"Well, it's not exactly a church festival. More like a community activity." Vincent gave Oonagh one of his winning smiles. He didn't want to tell her that his original idea had been a birthday party for Avril. However, he had quickly realized that it wouldn't look too good for him to be throwing her a party, despite his general attitude that people should look less at what he did on his own time and more at what he did when he was wearing the collar. In any case, he had decided to turn it into a more or less public event, inviting Avril's friends and telling them to bring along their friends, too. "And Avril doesn't exactly know about it yet." He smiled even more broadly.
"She doesn't know?" Oonagh asked, indicating that she thought that most unwise. "And when were you thinking of telling her? Say when the mariachi dancers were warming up in her living room?"
"Mariachi's Mexican. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to her just yet. I want to get everything set first."
"So she can't say no," Oonagh surmised.
Vincent grinned. Oonagh's mind worked along the same lines as his. "Exactly."
"I'll talk it over with Paul and get back to you, OK?"
"Thanks, Oonagh."
*****
Vincent was in Kathleen's shop, perusing the shoe polishes. His frequent visits to the yard were wreaking havoc on his shoes. He should probably just buy a pair of rubber boots and leave them up there. He heard the bell over the door tinkle and Father Mac greeting Kathleen. A moment later, he heard himself being hailed.
"Father Sheahan, what's this I hear about a salsa festival?" Father Mac asked with distaste.
Now who could have told him so quickly? Vincent figured he'd better get over to Avril's pretty soon, before she heard about it from someone else. He turned to Father Mac and replied innocently, "I don't know, what have you heard?"
"That you are organizing a Brazilian dance party to be held at Ms. Burke's property," he said disapprovingly.
"Well, that's probably a bit of an overstatement," Vincent said modestly. "Just a few friends getting together for a barbecue. Some music." He shrugged. "Might be dancing."
Father Mac turned his back toward Kathleen, who was pretending to be busy at the counter, and tried to keep his voice low. "I thought I told you to keep your distance from her," he hissed.
Vincent smiled politely and said evenly, "No, you told me to take care of the situation, and I have."
Father Mac raised his eyebrows. "You have?"
"I explained my position to Avril, how my vocation comes first, and she was quite agreeable." In fact she had been more than agreeable, she had seemed blissfully content. Not at all what he had expected, in fact. In his more intimate dealings with the females of the species he had found them to be emotional, unreasonable, temperamental, and unfathomable. Quite like Avril had been at first, in fact. But as they had grown closer, she had become calmer and gentler, although she still eluded his full understanding. It seemed that the more certain she was of where she stood with him, the happier she was, even though where she stood was not on a level with the church.
"Well bully for you," Father Mac said unenthusiastically.
"You're welcome to come," Vincent offered.
"What?"
"To the party."
Wouldn't he just love to see how Vincent and Avril interacted in such a casual setting! But his presence might be misconstrued as a tacit approval of the entire affair. "I don't think so," he growled.
*****
When Vincent pulled up to the yard that afternoon, he had to park just outside the gate, as there was a double-wide horse trailer hooked up to a silver Range Rover blocking the entrance. Vincent hoped someone was dropping horses off, not taking them away. Avril really couldn't afford to lose any more clients. He grabbed the old ragged boots he had managed to scrounge out of the goodwill bin and changed into them before stepping out onto the dusty yellow gravel.
He soon recognized with a mixture of relief (for Avril's business's sake) and discomfort (for his own sake) that it was Garrett, delivering the promised polo ponies. Avril's ex-husband stood in the middle of the yard, chatting comfortably with her as they watched a man whom Vincent didn't recognize walking one of the horses around on a lunge line to stretch its legs. At the far end of the yard, Liam and Donal were ostensibly working on putting up a wooden roof outside of the storage shed, although it looked like they were having an argument about which end of a hammer to use.
Avril and Garrett turned around as Vincent approached them. Avril looked cheerful, Garrett smug. Vincent wondered what they had been discussing, remembering that Avril had assured him the previous week that she was "past" Garrett. But was Garrett trying to catch up to her? Vincent pointed toward the dark brown horse and said enthusiastically, "Hey, Garrett, so you finally made it down with your horses."
Garrett held out his hand for Vincent to shake. "Good to see you again, Vincent," he said politely.
Avril was a little nervous. Vincent hadn't been up to visit since their talk three days before, which was an uncharacteristically long absence for him. She had gotten the impression that everything would go back to normal between them, but maybe when he had said, "I am a priest," he had meant that he was going to keep his distance from her property as well as her body. She considered that that might be the only way for him to remain true to his vows, for that was what Avril had understood his position to be: that only his priestly vow of chastity prevented him from having a physical relationship with her. If so, if Vincent meant to keep his distance from her and the stables, Avril thought it was a shame, for it would mean the loss of a great friendship to both of them, but her respect for him precluded her trying to argue or change his mind. On the other hand, he was here now, and she was glad of it. She did look slightly askance at those boots he had his jeans tucked into, though. Where ever had he managed to dig up those from?
"Vincent," she greeted him with a certain restraint. "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"
Vincent squeezed Garrett's hand perfunctorily and turned to Avril. Her dark hair blew loosely around in the light breeze and she tucked it behind one ear. The motion brought her fingers into his focus, and he remembered how cool and gentle they had felt on his hand when she was showing him how to brush The Cat. The Cat. Horses. Riding lessons. That's why he was here. "Um, I thought you might have time for a lesson, but we can do it another time."
A lesson? Garrett looked from Vincent to Avril. Was she still taking religious instruction? It was really none of his business anymore. If so, good for her. As long as it was really just that. He didn't have a good feeling about this priest's intentions. He was too superficial, too good- looking, and his reaction last week when Garrett had said that he and Vincent wanted the same thing had been just a nudge too suspicious. Not that Garrett had meant anything by it at the time. He had actually made the comment more in self-defense, meaning to indicate only that he had Avril's best interests at heart, which was true. But in the split second after he had said, "I think we both want the same thing," he had seen a stricken look pass across Vincent's face, which had turned into what appeared to be great relief when he had finished with, "To see Avril healthy and happy." Vincent had quickly beat his retreat to the church after that, leaving Garrett to ponder the meaning of his reaction, which seemed to him to be obvious: Vincent wanted Avril, and he thought that Garrett did, too. Garrett didn't see any reason to either confront him on the one point or correct him on the other. Not for now, anyway. But he would certainly say something if he saw that Avril were getting hurt.
Avril felt her heart leap at Vincent's reminder of the riding lesson. It was true, it was the time when he usually came by. So things were to be the same between them after all. He must have just been busy the past couple of days, she thought with relief. She honestly didn't have the time at the moment, but she certainly wasn't going to send him away now. "No no no, listen," she said quickly, "we've just got to get the horses settled in and go over the instructions, shouldn't take that long, right Garrett?"
Garrett could see whom Avril would rather spend her time with. He felt not a trace of jealousy or bitterness. But business was business. "I don't know, I'd like to give them some time to get used to the place, see how they're settling in before I leave."
Vincent backed off a couple of steps. "Hey, no problem. I've got something to discuss with the fellas anyway," he said, indicating Liam and Donal, who had gotten the thing with the hammer figured out and were pounding away as if there were no tomorrow.
"Yeah and, remind them that they're supposed to be fixing the roof, not putting more holes in it," Avril said, only half joking.
Vincent walked over to the other end of the yard and stood behind Liam, who was holding the bottom of a ladder. At the top was Donal, who was leaning over as far as possible, waving his hammer at a nail just beyond his reach.
"A little more, Donal, you've almost got it," Liam encouraged him.
Donal stood on his toes and leaned even further over. He was able to get one good whack at the nail before he lost his balance and had to grab at the frame of the roof for support, dropping the hammer. It narrowly missed hitting Liam on the head and landed just centimetres from Vincent's toe. Both Liam and Donal looked down at the hammer, then up at Vincent. They simultaneously gave Vincent a congenial smile. "Father," they greeted him, as if nothing at all had happened.
Vincent blinked and smiled at Donal, then at Liam. "Fellas." He looked dubiously up at the bare wooden frame. "Think that'll hold water?"
"Course not," scoffed Liam. "The water'll run right off."
"When we get the shingles on, that is," added Donal.
"And when do you think that'll be?"
Liam and Donal looked at each other and shrugged disinterestedly.
"I'm only asking, cause there's going to be a party here in a couple of days, and it'd be nice to have the shelter finished in case it rains."
"A party?" Their interest was awakened. "What party?"
"A Brazilian salsa party."
"Are we invited?"
"Course you are. Actually, I have a special assignment for you, if you're interested."
Liam suddenly turned shrewd. He hooked one elbow over the nearest rung on the ladder and squinted one eye at Vincent. "Assignment, eh? Any money in it?"
"Money? Yeah," Vincent grinned slyly. "And more breasts than you're going to know what to do with."
*****
By the time Vincent had finished explaining to Liam and Donal what their role was to be, they were slightly less enthusiastic than they had been at first, but they agreed to help out. And they promised to get the roof finished in time, just in case of inclement weather.
Vincent looked at his watch. It was getting late. He started toward Avril's office, where she and Garrett had repaired to in order to go over the paperwork. He passed by the stalls where the two new horses were housed. They had their heads out and were sniffing at the Wexford County air. They whinnied softly to each other and nodded at Vincent as he passed. He was glad for Avril that they were here. Garrett seemed to be a genuinely decent man. And the horses weren't just a ploy on Garrett's part, Vincent was pretty sure. Whether or not he had designs on Avril, he wasn't just playing around. Not like Vincent was doing with the riding lessons.
Garrett came out of the office and turned around to talk to Avril, who remained standing in the doorway. They shook hands for a long time. Longer than necessary. Vincent was still too far away to hear what they were saying, but he saw that they were both smiling. Then Avril laughed gently. Well, good, Vincent thought stoically. Maybe they would get back together. Garrett could certainly offer Avril everything. Financial security, romance, a stable family life, children. All that Vincent could offer her was a ticket to heaven, and even that she wouldn't accept.
Garrett waved to Vincent and walked to the Range Rover. The other man who had been lunging the horse earlier had already parked the horse trailer off to the side with the others and was waiting in the passenger seat. Vincent watched them as he ascended the steps to where Avril was standing. "Everything set?" he asked.
"Yeah, looks good," she said cheerfully. They watched as Garrett started the car and pulled out of the gate. Avril gave a short sigh of satisfaction. "Sorry it took so long. Still have time for that lesson?"
"Ah, actually, no I don't," Vincent said regretfully. "I've just got time to run back to the pub for dinner before I have to get back to the church." And he had really wanted to discuss the party with Avril today. Otherwise she'd be hearing it from others and that would just lead to aggravation.
"Well hey, why don't you have something here," she suggested, nodding toward the kitchen. "It won't be like Oonagh's cooking, but I can fix you up quick so you can get on your way."
Vincent leaped at the opportunity. "Great," he said gratefully, coming the rest of the way up the steps. "Actually, it'll be killing two birds with one stone. There's something I wanted to discuss with you." He stepped past Avril into the apartment he had briefly called home not all too long ago.
"Oh?" Avril asked warily, following Vincent into the kitchen. Another revelation? she wondered to herself.
Ten minutes later, they were sitting across the table from each other, with green salad and wedges of cheese omelet on their plates and thick slices of brown bread on a cutting board in the middle of the table. "Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Avril asked, picking up her fork.
"Just a moment," Vincent murmured politely. He closed his eyes and folded his hands.
Avril felt stupid. Of course he would want to say a blessing before eating. He was a priest, for God's sake. It was so easy to forget when he was out of uniform, as he was this evening. She waited until he opened his eyes again before apologizing. "I'm sorry--" she began.
"No, hey, don't sweat it," he said goodnaturedly. "Looks good," he said, picking up his fork and knife.
"Nothing fancy," Avril shrugged. She didn't really feel any need to impress Vincent with her cooking. She was running a racing stables, not a restaurant, after all.
Vincent smiled at her, said, "I'm a man of simple tastes," and started eating.
Avril was burning with curiosity to know what this matter was that Vincent wanted to discuss with her, but she restrained herself from asking again.
"Do you like barbecue?" Vincent asked casually, after they had taken a few bites.
"You mean like prawns on the barbie?" she teased.
"Sure, or anything else."
"Yeah, if someone else does all the work!"
"How'd you like to have a barbecue here next week?" Vincent asked.
"Barbecue? Here?" Avril was caught off guard. What was he talking about?
"You wouldn't have to do anything," he assured her. "I'll take care of everything."
"What for?"
Vincent tried to make it sound as low-key yet attractive as possible. "Think of it...Brazilian chicken and beef barbecue, a little salsa music, a few friends, it'll be fun."
An idea began to form in Avril's mind. "This wouldn't have anything to do with my birthday, would it?" she asked suspiciously.
Vincent smiled and winked at her. "Nah."
*****
Vincent slipped the green chasible over his head in final preparation for the morning Mass and turned to the mirror to make sure it sat square on his shoulders. When he raised his arms, he noticed the dark purple speckles on the front where some of the sacramental wine had splashed up the last time he had worn this robe. He had forgotten to have it cleaned. He sighed and lowered his arms. It wasn't noticeable now, the spots hidden in the folds around his arms.
Not for the first time, he thought how nice it would be to have an assistant to take care of such things. In the larger parishes, there were secretaries, vestry clerks, pastoral assistants, a veritable staff of lay workers to relieve the priest of the mundane tasks and give him more time for the real work of the gospel. On the other hand, the larger parishes also had larger congregations from which to draw such helpers, and more parishioners in need of the priest's attention.
Vincent briefly considered, also not for the first time, whether the time he spent at Avril's yard, not to mention the extra time he had spent in the past few days planning the upcoming party, might not be better spent dealing with exactly such mundane tasks as taking his laundry to the cleaners. He couldn't afford to become neglectful of his primary calling. His justification, both to himself and to anyone who might ask, for the party at Avril's was, not entirely unreasonably, that a priest should be accessible to the people, not sit in the self-imposed solitude of the church, emerging only to distribute the sacrament and absolution. By becoming involved in community activities and mingling with the people, he was making it clear that he didn't consider himself any better than them, that although he was a servant of the Lord, he was also one of God's children.
First thing tomorrow, he promised himself, he'd take care of the dry cleaning. On the way to picking up the grill, meat, decorations, tables, benches, and everything else he had arranged to purchase or borrow from various contacts between here and Dublin. It promised to be a long day. But at the end of it would come the reward. He exhaled and returned his focus to the Lord's Communion. He felt truly grateful and blessed, to be able to serve in this capacity. He didn't want to lose either his own faith or that of the flock in him.
*****
Liam and Donal were doing an admirable job of keeping up with demand, slapping steaks and pieces of chicken on the industrial-size open grill as fast as they were selling them. Vincent had posted himself next to them at the start of the evening, to make sure that the two didn't try to charge more than the at-cost price Vincent had set. Once things got going, he was sure that word would get around if the food started costing more than it had at the outset.
The band was late, but Vincent hadn't been worried, used as he was to the Brazilian sense of time. He had found them through a priest in Dublin, and they had agreed to play for a fraction of their usual price after Vincent had gone to meet them and discovered that he had conducted the funeral of the grandfather of one of the band members. It was a small world. As it was, they were dear enough, and their fee had depleted Vincent's meagre bank account until the end of the month. But they were good. Already, the party-goers were tapping their toes and trying to catch on to the unfamiliar Latin rhythms. Some of the younger stable hands, fortified with Oonagh's guaraná punch, were shaking around with their giggling girlfriends down in front of the makeshift stage. What they really needed was someone who could show them how to dance.
Vincent looked around the crowd and spotted Avril near The Cat's stall, chatting with Siobhan. She looked beautiful. Her black hair was pinned up in a sleek and elegant fashion, with little white flowers as accents. She said that Grainne had insisted on doing it for her. She had on a tight white top with a scoop neckline, and a thick shawl with long fringes wrapped around her shoulders against the chill. And, most uncharacteristic of all, she was wearing a long, dark skirt over her boots. Vincent hadn't had a chance to exchange more than a couple of words with her all evening, as they had both been busy working the crowd. She must have felt him looking at her, for at that moment she looked up, met his eyes across the yard and smiled secretively.
Siobhan turned to see whom Avril was looking at, but the crowd had already shifted and Vincent was no longer visible. She directed her attention back at Avril. "Who was that?" she asked curiously.
Avril played the innocent. "Hm? Who."
"I saw that look. There's something going on, isn't there?"
"Siobhan, there is nothing going on. Can't I look around at the guests at my own party without coming under suspicion?"
Siobhan's eyes narrowed. "I thought it was Father Sheahan's party."
Avril got flustered. It wouldn't look good if people found out it was her birthday. "Well, yes, he did organize everything, but after all it is my property, isn't it."
Siobhan was amused at Avril's discomfiture. "So it's more of a partnership," she said, a smile playing on her lips.
Avril laughed, "Siobhan, will you just lay off. Are you having fun or not?" she attempted to change the subject.
"I'd be having more fun if that big oaf'd pull himself away from the punch bowl," Siobhan muttered, nodding her head toward Brendan, who had stationed himself in front of the table where Oonagh and Dermot were serving up the drinks.
"How are things between you and Brendan?" Avril asked curiously.
"You're awfully nosy for someone who won't even admit who she's looking at," teased Siobhan.
"Come on, it's not like it's a secret that you've got a child together. And you brought up the topic," she continued defensively.
"We're friends, yes, and we're both happy with the way things are. In fact, I'd say Brendan's my best friend. And a good father for Aisling. Why try to change the status quo?"
"My sentiments exactly. This world would be a happier place if people would just be grateful for what they've got."
"Amen."
At that very moment, Oonagh was trying to get Brendan to move along so that she could serve some of the other guests, but he was holding forth on the parallels between Brazil's throwing off the yoke of the Portuguese monarchy and the Irish struggle for a free Republic. She was nodding her head with a glazed look in her eye while trying to hand a bottle of beer to Edso around behind Brendan when she froze. Her eyes widened and she forgot to release her grip on the bottle.
Edso tried to pull it away from her. "I've got it, Oonagh," he assured her, winking at the vacuous blonde plastered to his side.
A look of dismay came over Oonagh's face as she finally released the beer. "Uh oh. This doesn't look good."
Dermot pointed and exclaimed gleefully, "It's Wandering Palms!" At that, everybody turned around to see what they were looking at.
Garrett and Rosie had entered the yard. He looked debonair and poised, making his appearance as if it were he who was the guest of honor. Rosie, on the other hand, appeared tentative and nervous, clinging to Garrett's hand and practically trying to hide behind him. Her eyes skimmed the faces of the people nearest her, and she seemed relieved not to see Avril. She turned to Garrett and said something to him, and he murmured a reply without letting the crowd out of his sight.
Brendan and Edso both looked questioningly from Dermot to Oonagh. "Who's that?" Brendan asked.
"Avril's ex-husband, Garrett Burridge," Oonagh said grimly. "With girlfriend."
"Ouch," commented Edso. "Not a friendly split, I take it."
"You might say that," said Oonagh. "I don't know the whole story, but words were exchanged between them and Avril the last time they were here. They packed up and left in a hurry."
"Burridge," Brendan mused. "Isn't he the one who bought the curate's house in town?"
"Yeah," Dermot said with a gleam in his eye, "for a weekend love nest." He chortled until Oonagh gave him a stern look.
Edso seemed concerned. "Well should we do something?" His date furrowed her plucked brow in a mirror of his own expression.
But Brendan urged restraint. "Hold on, we don't know, maybe Avril invited them." He looked around at the others' skeptical looks. "As a gesture of goodwill," he tried to convince them.
"More likely it was Father Sheahan," Dermot said slyly.
The others looked startled, as if the thought would never have occurred to them, but now that it had been suggested, it seemed like it just might be true. Priests were always trying to reconcile people, weren't they? Or make it clear that the competition was no threat to them? With that in mind, Brendan, Edso, Oonagh, and Dermot began looking around eagerly for either Vincent or Avril. This promised to be interesting, in any event.
Siobhan and Avril had already started toward the bar, in order to pull Brendan away from it. They noticed the small flurry of activity without recognizing its cause and hurried their steps out of curiosity. At the same time, Vincent, who was trying to keep an eye on the grill, the band, Avril, and the guests simultaneously, had picked up that something unusual was going on at the bar when he saw the four heads turning every which way, and he also made his way over.
As soon as Vincent and Avril were spotted on their respective approaches, the friends at the bar turned to each other and studiously minded their own business.
Siobhan and Avril arrived first. "Find what you were looking for?" Siobhan asked Brendan as she walked up to him and slid her arm around his waist.
"What?" Brendan asked innocently. "I wasn't looking for anything."
"Funny, it looked like you'd heard Stephen Tompkinson was making an appearance, and you were trying to catch a glimpse."
"Nothing of the sort, I assure you," Brendan swore with a twinkle in his eye.
"Good evening, Edso," Avril smiled warmly at the mechanic. "Thanks for coming."
"Well you know me, I hear the word party and wild horses couldn't keep me away," Edso joked. Edso's date smiled blankly at Avril, but he didn't get a chance to introduce her, as just then Vincent joined the group.
"What's going on here?" Vincent asked pleasantly, rubbing his hands together. "Everyone enjoying themselves?"
"Oh, yes, lovely, Father," Oonagh assured him.
"But the best is yet to come," Dermot whispered loudly, winking at Vincent and inclining his head nonchalantly in Garrett and Rosie's direction, who were also on their way over.
Vincent and Avril exchanged quizzical looks, and then there was much clearing of throats to be heard. They looked around and found themselves face to face with Garrett and Rosie. The other guests nearby, stable hands, riders, trainers, and others who knew Garrett by sight, at least, fell silent, too, and whispered explanations were quickly exchanged.
"I hope you don't mind, us stopping by," said Garrett confidently, glancing from Avril to Vincent. Rosie's face was pale and solemn, but her eyes looked hopeful.
Avril swallowed. Now was the test. She had found she was able to deal with Garrett well now, especially on a business level. But she had purposely pushed all thoughts of him and Rosie together out of her head. It was still too tender an insult.
Everyone held their breath. Not even Vincent said anything. It wasn't his place to speak for Avril. He knew this was a difficult moment for her, but she needed to face it.
Garrett filled the tense silence by explaining, "I heard from the shopkeeper, what's her name, Katherine?..."
"Kathleen," two or three voices chimed in.
Garrett looked around at their audience and nodded in polite acknowledgement before continuing, "Kathleen, that there was a party here tonight, and when we drove by and saw so many cars parked outside, we thought two more wouldn't make any difference."
Avril drew her shawl closer around her, tightened her jaw and raised her chin challengingly. Two more of anyone else wouldn't make any difference, but these two would. Vincent could see that Avril was wrestling with herself over how to respond. She probably wanted to snap at Rosie, maybe at both of them, but at the same time she seemed to be trying to keep calm. Or gathering her strength for the full frontal assault. He was standing close behind her, so he lifted one hand and touched her gently on the small of the back, a gesture which he deemed to be too subtle for the others to see in the semi-darkness, to remind her that he was there and to express his support for her.
Avril felt the touch on her back and knew that it was Vincent. Her burgeoning anger was diluted by the warm intimacy of his presence. She knew that it wouldn't help anything for her to let loose with the words that were dammed up in her throat, but it was a supreme effort of will to hold back. She concentrated on the spot where Vincent's hand was and took a deep breath. "Not at all," she said a little stiffly. "I'm glad you came." And after having said it, she almost was. She felt a great relief at having passed that hurdle.
Garrett smiled affectionately at Avril. He was proud of her. Maybe the priest was having a good influence on her after all. "Thanks," he said, and looked at Rosie, because he knew there was something she wanted to say, too.
Rosie's eyes were wet. She took a step away from Garrett and toward Avril. "Oh Avril," she said, her voice full of emotion. She reached out to Avril tentatively, but then let her hand fall when Avril involuntarily hugged her arms closer against her body. "I'm so...I just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday," she whispered, smiling through her tears.
Avril stiffened, looking daggers at Rosie. Vincent dropped his hand from her back.
"Birthday?" said Edso accusingly. "You didn't say anything about a birthday."
"Is it your birthday, Avril?" asked Siobhan with surprise.
"Yes," she said through her teeth, not removing her eyes from Rosie.
Rosie looked hurt and unsure. "What, I..." she stammered, "I thought that's what this was all about."
"If I'd known it was your birthday, I would have brought you a present," Edso said fretfully.
"Did you know it was Avril's birthday, Father?" Brendan asked pointedly.
Vincent blinked calmly. "Yes," he said. Now that the cat was out of the bag, no more explanation was necessary. Everyone looked awkwardly from Vincent to Avril.
Rosie backed away from Avril, who had closed her eyes and narrowed her lips to a thin line. "I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
Garrett came to her rescue. "Hey, we didn't know it was a secret. We just figured, party, Avril's yard, birthday."
Avril opened her eyes and gave Garrett a saccharin smile. "Well it was just a coincidence," she said.
"A happy one," Brendan commented meaningfully.
"It's not so bad, Avril," Oonagh tried to comfort her, misinterpreting the reason for her reaction. "I've got quite a few years on you, and I'm still in my prime."
"Me, too," Siobhan piped up. "Life begins at forty, isn't that right, old man?" She nudged Brendan in the ribs.
"Oh is that what that was?" Brendan joked. "I thought it was a hernia."
The others laughed at that. Avril relaxed somewhat with the conversation turning to age rather than the reason for the party. "Look," she said to Garrett. She still wasn't up to speaking directly to Rosie. "Look," she said grudgingly, "you're welcome to stay, have some food, whatever. It's a free country, right?" She looked around and addressed the assembled gawkers, "And what are you all standing around for? Go, dance, it's not every night this place turns into the Copacabana!"
Seeing that there weren't likely to be any deaths or catfights that evening, the rest of the guests drifted back to their own conversations, but not before several of them had come up to Avril to congratulate her. She accepted their well wishes with a formal grace. Vincent stood off to the side and observed her. It was turning into her evening, which was as it should have been from the beginning. However, Vincent had to admit to himself, although everyone here tonight thought positively of Avril, there was no one whom she would consider a close friend, not Siobhan, not Edso, and certainly, at least at the moment, not Garrett or Rosie. Vincent was the only one who had managed to connect with her, and he was the only one who couldn't stand next to her, embrace her, and kiss her on the cheek, as so many of these half-recognized acquaintances were doing. It did cause a certain amount of resentment in him, against the society and the hierarchy that ruled his conduct.
Brendan moved over to where Vincent was standing alone. "Too bad," he mused, watching Avril, too.
"Hm?"
"That she didn't want anyone to know about her birthday," Brendan explained.
"Mm," Vincent grunted noncommittally.
Brendan sneaked a glance at Vincent. "Excepting yourself, of course."
"One of the privileges of having access to the parish records, Brendan," Vincent stated.
"So this whole thing was just a coincidence, was it," Brendan said, gesturing around at the decorated yard with his glass.
Vincent nodded firmly. "Absolutely."
"Because how would it look, you, a priest, organizing a birthday party for a certain one of your non-church-going parishioners."
Vincent turned to Brendan and asked, a little irritated, "I don't know, Brendan, how would it look?"
Brendan spoke carefully and with understanding. "It would look, like you cared about her."
Garrett and Rosie were also hanging back and conferring quietly, and when the crowd around Avril had diminished somewhat, they approached again.
"Look, Avril, we'd like to apologize for causing any unpleasantness," Garrett said gallantly. "It certainly wasn't our intention."
"I know," Avril said coldly.
"I'm sorry I mentioned about your birthday," Rosie said, subdued. "But, well, now that it's out, I wanted you to have this." She took a slim box out of the pocket of her lambskin coat and held it shyly out to Avril. "It's a pair of riding gloves," she explained, keeping her eyes focussed somewhere on Avril's neck.
"Thanks," Avril muttered as she forced herself to take the box. She sincerely hoped Vincent was around somewhere, since it was more for his sake than for anyone else's that she was being so civil, but she didn't dare look around for him now.
"Well," Garrett said finally, as no further conversation seemed forthcoming from either of the sisters. "I'll just check in on Steely and Mr. Tibbs," he said, referring to the two horses he had brought by earlier, "and then we'll be on our way." He looked at Rosie for confirmation, but she didn't respond one way or the other.
"Fine," Avril said bruskly. She had had enough of being the courteous one. If they wanted to leave, she wouldn't try to change their minds. Garrett and Rosie's presence was becoming more and more of an irritant to her.
The rest of the evening passed without incident, with Avril and Vincent keeping at a studious distance from one another. The punch was polished off, the barbecue died down, the band finished their last set, and the last few guests wandered happily off into the night. Avril wanted to help with the clean-up, but she was shooed off to her apartment with the explanation that she shouldn't have to work on her birthday.
About an hour later, Vincent knocked lightly on the green door to Avril's apartment before pushing it open. "Avril?" he said, looking around the empty kitchen. She must still be up, the light was still burning. Then he heard her bare feet approaching on the stone floor. She came into the kitchen, wearing a long satiny white dressing gown belted at the waist. The top part was wrapped loosely and gaped at the neck, so Vincent could see the ridges of her delicate collarbones and a good deal of the smooth, glowing skin of her upper chest. She had already brushed her hair out. Her face became even more beautiful when it broke into a smile at seeing Vincent.
He stayed in the doorway. "We're all finished out there," he said, gesturing with his thumb back over his shoulder toward the darkened yard.
Avril stood on her toes and craned her neck to see around Vincent. All the lanterns had been taken down, the tables cleared away, the benches stacked. She could hear the sound of male voices and car doors opening and closing.
Vincent glanced in the direction she was looking. "The fellas are just packing up their equipment."
Avril stepped up to the door, apparently intending to go out again. Vincent moved a step back so that she could pass, but she stopped just next to him and waved a greeting to the moving shadows outside. "Hey, thanks again, lads!" she called out.
Two or three friendly voices responded to her in Portuguese; she assumed they were saying good night or something similar.
Vincent looked down at Avril. Her robe had slipped down low on one shoulder when she had raised her other arm to wave. It looked like she didn't have anything else on underneath. Avril turned to Vincent and touched his elbow. "Do you want to come in?" she invited him lightly, without any ulterior motive whatsoever.
Of course he did. "No, it's pretty late. I just wanted to give you this." He held up between them a CD that he had been holding in one hand. "Actually, it's from the band."
Avril took the CD and read the label. It was a recording of the band that had played tonight. "They didn't have to-- Hey, thanks!" Avril waved the CD in the air and shouted out into the darkness.
The response was the gunning of an engine and the glare of headlights as the Brazilians turned their van around and drove out of the yard, accompanied by a high-pitched yell, whistles, and laughter. After a moment, the only sound was the occasional whiffle of a horse and the chirping or clicking of an insect.
Avril looked up at Vincent. Although the night was cool, he was perspiring. He had worked so hard, not just at the cleaning up, but also preparing everything, making all the phone calls, organizing the food and music, helping load and unload everything. He was really in his element when there was work to be done. But this hadn't been church work. This had all been for her. Well, for half the town, as it had turned out, but in the first place for her. "Thank you, Vincent," she said, her voice and her eyes conveying not just her gratitude, but also her love and respect for this man.
Vincent felt a surge of tenderness for Avril. It gave him such a profound satisfaction to see her happy, and even more so to know that he had done something to make her feel that way. He knew that she could take care of herself, but he still had the urge to take care of her. He could feel the warmth from her on one side of his body, competing with the night air on the other side. It was time to say good night. But there was one more thing. "Can I kiss the birthday girl? On the cheek," he added, just so there was no misunderstanding. But he and Avril were beyond misunderstandings. They both knew what the other one felt.
Avril smiled at him coyly. "Just remember, if I don't like it, I may have to kiss you back," she teased, reminding him of the night of the foaling, when she had angrily reacted to his kissing her on the forehead by kissing him on the lips. But now things were different. There was no anger in her anymore, and neither one of them was being caught off-guard.
Vincent put his hands on her shoulders. The material of her dressing gown was slightly slippery between his fingers, and he could feel the muscle of her upper arm yield slightly under the pressure he placed on it. He leaned toward her and placed his cheek against hers and closed his eyes. Her skin was warm and soft and unbelievably smooth. He inclined his head slightly so that his lips made contact with the back of her cheek just before her earlobe. He inhaled once, slowly, taking in the scent that he had dreamed so many times, ever since he had first encountered it that night in Pilgrim's Progress's stall. Then he moved his head ever so slightly away and breathed out, as steadily as he could manage, which wasn't very. "Happy birthday," he whispered.
Avril didn't make a move. She seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. He moved his hands slightly farther back on her shoulders. She could feel his breath on her neck, and it gave her goosebumps of pleasure all down her spine. He started to pull back, and she thought that was already all (and it had been plenty!), but then she realized that his lips were still barely grazing her cheek. He hadn't planned this, but now it seemed to him inevitable. This was no desperate act in some dark corner, they were both in complete control of their actions. There was no coercion, no flimsy platitudes. He hovered over the surface of her skin, just barely agitating the tiny hairs on her cheek with his lips, until he reached the corner of her mouth. Her lips were slightly parted, and he could smell the toothpaste on her breath. Then he slid his lips over hers and kissed her with incredible gentleness and restraint, considering that his entire body was urging him to press himself onto her.
Avril dared finally to reach up and put her hands on his arms, caressing them lightly. Now that the acknowledged barrier between them had been breached, Avril felt a wave of desire well up in her. She was about to lift her hand up to the back of Vincent's head when he broke the kiss and pulled her close to his chest, his breath catching in his throat. She put her arms around his waist instead and pressed her forehead against his neck, breathing in the smell of his desire. She could feel his heart pounding. A cold breeze from outside blew up her bare legs, causing her to shiver involuntarily. Her senses were already on edge. Vincent felt her tremble and was brought back to the here and now. It was really, really time for him to go. If he stayed, he would be leading both of them down a road that couldn't have a good ending. He couldn't offer her a stable relationship. She would just end up disappointed and disillusioned.
"Avril," he whispered. He gently pulled back on her shoulders so that he could see her face. Her eyes were wide and dark, and she looked so blissful. "I do..." he said softly, "but I can't." He searched her face for any sign of disappointment or sadness, and was surprised to find none.
Avril smiled at the delicious feeling that both the kiss and his words had given her. It was all much more than she had ever expected, more than she would ever have let herself hope for. "I do, too," she said, looking into his eyes. "And I would never ask you to."
He nodded. "I know," he said, and he meant it all. He knew.
END
Chapter 7
"Many Happy Returns"
by Margaret Pattison
"A salsa party?" Oonagh scrunched up her nose in confusion. "What does that have to do with horses?"
"Nothing," Vincent replied. "I mean, it doesn't have to have anything to do with horses. I just thought the yard would be a nice venue. Nice open space, fields around, electrical connection--"
"Manure, mud, manure..." Oonagh ticked off the additional amenities. "And what will Avril think? Giving over the yard for a church festival?"
"Well, it's not exactly a church festival. More like a community activity." Vincent gave Oonagh one of his winning smiles. He didn't want to tell her that his original idea had been a birthday party for Avril. However, he had quickly realized that it wouldn't look too good for him to be throwing her a party, despite his general attitude that people should look less at what he did on his own time and more at what he did when he was wearing the collar. In any case, he had decided to turn it into a more or less public event, inviting Avril's friends and telling them to bring along their friends, too. "And Avril doesn't exactly know about it yet." He smiled even more broadly.
"She doesn't know?" Oonagh asked, indicating that she thought that most unwise. "And when were you thinking of telling her? Say when the mariachi dancers were warming up in her living room?"
"Mariachi's Mexican. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't say anything to her just yet. I want to get everything set first."
"So she can't say no," Oonagh surmised.
Vincent grinned. Oonagh's mind worked along the same lines as his. "Exactly."
"I'll talk it over with Paul and get back to you, OK?"
"Thanks, Oonagh."
*****
Vincent was in Kathleen's shop, perusing the shoe polishes. His frequent visits to the yard were wreaking havoc on his shoes. He should probably just buy a pair of rubber boots and leave them up there. He heard the bell over the door tinkle and Father Mac greeting Kathleen. A moment later, he heard himself being hailed.
"Father Sheahan, what's this I hear about a salsa festival?" Father Mac asked with distaste.
Now who could have told him so quickly? Vincent figured he'd better get over to Avril's pretty soon, before she heard about it from someone else. He turned to Father Mac and replied innocently, "I don't know, what have you heard?"
"That you are organizing a Brazilian dance party to be held at Ms. Burke's property," he said disapprovingly.
"Well, that's probably a bit of an overstatement," Vincent said modestly. "Just a few friends getting together for a barbecue. Some music." He shrugged. "Might be dancing."
Father Mac turned his back toward Kathleen, who was pretending to be busy at the counter, and tried to keep his voice low. "I thought I told you to keep your distance from her," he hissed.
Vincent smiled politely and said evenly, "No, you told me to take care of the situation, and I have."
Father Mac raised his eyebrows. "You have?"
"I explained my position to Avril, how my vocation comes first, and she was quite agreeable." In fact she had been more than agreeable, she had seemed blissfully content. Not at all what he had expected, in fact. In his more intimate dealings with the females of the species he had found them to be emotional, unreasonable, temperamental, and unfathomable. Quite like Avril had been at first, in fact. But as they had grown closer, she had become calmer and gentler, although she still eluded his full understanding. It seemed that the more certain she was of where she stood with him, the happier she was, even though where she stood was not on a level with the church.
"Well bully for you," Father Mac said unenthusiastically.
"You're welcome to come," Vincent offered.
"What?"
"To the party."
Wouldn't he just love to see how Vincent and Avril interacted in such a casual setting! But his presence might be misconstrued as a tacit approval of the entire affair. "I don't think so," he growled.
*****
When Vincent pulled up to the yard that afternoon, he had to park just outside the gate, as there was a double-wide horse trailer hooked up to a silver Range Rover blocking the entrance. Vincent hoped someone was dropping horses off, not taking them away. Avril really couldn't afford to lose any more clients. He grabbed the old ragged boots he had managed to scrounge out of the goodwill bin and changed into them before stepping out onto the dusty yellow gravel.
He soon recognized with a mixture of relief (for Avril's business's sake) and discomfort (for his own sake) that it was Garrett, delivering the promised polo ponies. Avril's ex-husband stood in the middle of the yard, chatting comfortably with her as they watched a man whom Vincent didn't recognize walking one of the horses around on a lunge line to stretch its legs. At the far end of the yard, Liam and Donal were ostensibly working on putting up a wooden roof outside of the storage shed, although it looked like they were having an argument about which end of a hammer to use.
Avril and Garrett turned around as Vincent approached them. Avril looked cheerful, Garrett smug. Vincent wondered what they had been discussing, remembering that Avril had assured him the previous week that she was "past" Garrett. But was Garrett trying to catch up to her? Vincent pointed toward the dark brown horse and said enthusiastically, "Hey, Garrett, so you finally made it down with your horses."
Garrett held out his hand for Vincent to shake. "Good to see you again, Vincent," he said politely.
Avril was a little nervous. Vincent hadn't been up to visit since their talk three days before, which was an uncharacteristically long absence for him. She had gotten the impression that everything would go back to normal between them, but maybe when he had said, "I am a priest," he had meant that he was going to keep his distance from her property as well as her body. She considered that that might be the only way for him to remain true to his vows, for that was what Avril had understood his position to be: that only his priestly vow of chastity prevented him from having a physical relationship with her. If so, if Vincent meant to keep his distance from her and the stables, Avril thought it was a shame, for it would mean the loss of a great friendship to both of them, but her respect for him precluded her trying to argue or change his mind. On the other hand, he was here now, and she was glad of it. She did look slightly askance at those boots he had his jeans tucked into, though. Where ever had he managed to dig up those from?
"Vincent," she greeted him with a certain restraint. "What brings you to our neck of the woods?"
Vincent squeezed Garrett's hand perfunctorily and turned to Avril. Her dark hair blew loosely around in the light breeze and she tucked it behind one ear. The motion brought her fingers into his focus, and he remembered how cool and gentle they had felt on his hand when she was showing him how to brush The Cat. The Cat. Horses. Riding lessons. That's why he was here. "Um, I thought you might have time for a lesson, but we can do it another time."
A lesson? Garrett looked from Vincent to Avril. Was she still taking religious instruction? It was really none of his business anymore. If so, good for her. As long as it was really just that. He didn't have a good feeling about this priest's intentions. He was too superficial, too good- looking, and his reaction last week when Garrett had said that he and Vincent wanted the same thing had been just a nudge too suspicious. Not that Garrett had meant anything by it at the time. He had actually made the comment more in self-defense, meaning to indicate only that he had Avril's best interests at heart, which was true. But in the split second after he had said, "I think we both want the same thing," he had seen a stricken look pass across Vincent's face, which had turned into what appeared to be great relief when he had finished with, "To see Avril healthy and happy." Vincent had quickly beat his retreat to the church after that, leaving Garrett to ponder the meaning of his reaction, which seemed to him to be obvious: Vincent wanted Avril, and he thought that Garrett did, too. Garrett didn't see any reason to either confront him on the one point or correct him on the other. Not for now, anyway. But he would certainly say something if he saw that Avril were getting hurt.
Avril felt her heart leap at Vincent's reminder of the riding lesson. It was true, it was the time when he usually came by. So things were to be the same between them after all. He must have just been busy the past couple of days, she thought with relief. She honestly didn't have the time at the moment, but she certainly wasn't going to send him away now. "No no no, listen," she said quickly, "we've just got to get the horses settled in and go over the instructions, shouldn't take that long, right Garrett?"
Garrett could see whom Avril would rather spend her time with. He felt not a trace of jealousy or bitterness. But business was business. "I don't know, I'd like to give them some time to get used to the place, see how they're settling in before I leave."
Vincent backed off a couple of steps. "Hey, no problem. I've got something to discuss with the fellas anyway," he said, indicating Liam and Donal, who had gotten the thing with the hammer figured out and were pounding away as if there were no tomorrow.
"Yeah and, remind them that they're supposed to be fixing the roof, not putting more holes in it," Avril said, only half joking.
Vincent walked over to the other end of the yard and stood behind Liam, who was holding the bottom of a ladder. At the top was Donal, who was leaning over as far as possible, waving his hammer at a nail just beyond his reach.
"A little more, Donal, you've almost got it," Liam encouraged him.
Donal stood on his toes and leaned even further over. He was able to get one good whack at the nail before he lost his balance and had to grab at the frame of the roof for support, dropping the hammer. It narrowly missed hitting Liam on the head and landed just centimetres from Vincent's toe. Both Liam and Donal looked down at the hammer, then up at Vincent. They simultaneously gave Vincent a congenial smile. "Father," they greeted him, as if nothing at all had happened.
Vincent blinked and smiled at Donal, then at Liam. "Fellas." He looked dubiously up at the bare wooden frame. "Think that'll hold water?"
"Course not," scoffed Liam. "The water'll run right off."
"When we get the shingles on, that is," added Donal.
"And when do you think that'll be?"
Liam and Donal looked at each other and shrugged disinterestedly.
"I'm only asking, cause there's going to be a party here in a couple of days, and it'd be nice to have the shelter finished in case it rains."
"A party?" Their interest was awakened. "What party?"
"A Brazilian salsa party."
"Are we invited?"
"Course you are. Actually, I have a special assignment for you, if you're interested."
Liam suddenly turned shrewd. He hooked one elbow over the nearest rung on the ladder and squinted one eye at Vincent. "Assignment, eh? Any money in it?"
"Money? Yeah," Vincent grinned slyly. "And more breasts than you're going to know what to do with."
*****
By the time Vincent had finished explaining to Liam and Donal what their role was to be, they were slightly less enthusiastic than they had been at first, but they agreed to help out. And they promised to get the roof finished in time, just in case of inclement weather.
Vincent looked at his watch. It was getting late. He started toward Avril's office, where she and Garrett had repaired to in order to go over the paperwork. He passed by the stalls where the two new horses were housed. They had their heads out and were sniffing at the Wexford County air. They whinnied softly to each other and nodded at Vincent as he passed. He was glad for Avril that they were here. Garrett seemed to be a genuinely decent man. And the horses weren't just a ploy on Garrett's part, Vincent was pretty sure. Whether or not he had designs on Avril, he wasn't just playing around. Not like Vincent was doing with the riding lessons.
Garrett came out of the office and turned around to talk to Avril, who remained standing in the doorway. They shook hands for a long time. Longer than necessary. Vincent was still too far away to hear what they were saying, but he saw that they were both smiling. Then Avril laughed gently. Well, good, Vincent thought stoically. Maybe they would get back together. Garrett could certainly offer Avril everything. Financial security, romance, a stable family life, children. All that Vincent could offer her was a ticket to heaven, and even that she wouldn't accept.
Garrett waved to Vincent and walked to the Range Rover. The other man who had been lunging the horse earlier had already parked the horse trailer off to the side with the others and was waiting in the passenger seat. Vincent watched them as he ascended the steps to where Avril was standing. "Everything set?" he asked.
"Yeah, looks good," she said cheerfully. They watched as Garrett started the car and pulled out of the gate. Avril gave a short sigh of satisfaction. "Sorry it took so long. Still have time for that lesson?"
"Ah, actually, no I don't," Vincent said regretfully. "I've just got time to run back to the pub for dinner before I have to get back to the church." And he had really wanted to discuss the party with Avril today. Otherwise she'd be hearing it from others and that would just lead to aggravation.
"Well hey, why don't you have something here," she suggested, nodding toward the kitchen. "It won't be like Oonagh's cooking, but I can fix you up quick so you can get on your way."
Vincent leaped at the opportunity. "Great," he said gratefully, coming the rest of the way up the steps. "Actually, it'll be killing two birds with one stone. There's something I wanted to discuss with you." He stepped past Avril into the apartment he had briefly called home not all too long ago.
"Oh?" Avril asked warily, following Vincent into the kitchen. Another revelation? she wondered to herself.
Ten minutes later, they were sitting across the table from each other, with green salad and wedges of cheese omelet on their plates and thick slices of brown bread on a cutting board in the middle of the table. "Now, what was it you wanted to talk to me about?" Avril asked, picking up her fork.
"Just a moment," Vincent murmured politely. He closed his eyes and folded his hands.
Avril felt stupid. Of course he would want to say a blessing before eating. He was a priest, for God's sake. It was so easy to forget when he was out of uniform, as he was this evening. She waited until he opened his eyes again before apologizing. "I'm sorry--" she began.
"No, hey, don't sweat it," he said goodnaturedly. "Looks good," he said, picking up his fork and knife.
"Nothing fancy," Avril shrugged. She didn't really feel any need to impress Vincent with her cooking. She was running a racing stables, not a restaurant, after all.
Vincent smiled at her, said, "I'm a man of simple tastes," and started eating.
Avril was burning with curiosity to know what this matter was that Vincent wanted to discuss with her, but she restrained herself from asking again.
"Do you like barbecue?" Vincent asked casually, after they had taken a few bites.
"You mean like prawns on the barbie?" she teased.
"Sure, or anything else."
"Yeah, if someone else does all the work!"
"How'd you like to have a barbecue here next week?" Vincent asked.
"Barbecue? Here?" Avril was caught off guard. What was he talking about?
"You wouldn't have to do anything," he assured her. "I'll take care of everything."
"What for?"
Vincent tried to make it sound as low-key yet attractive as possible. "Think of it...Brazilian chicken and beef barbecue, a little salsa music, a few friends, it'll be fun."
An idea began to form in Avril's mind. "This wouldn't have anything to do with my birthday, would it?" she asked suspiciously.
Vincent smiled and winked at her. "Nah."
*****
Vincent slipped the green chasible over his head in final preparation for the morning Mass and turned to the mirror to make sure it sat square on his shoulders. When he raised his arms, he noticed the dark purple speckles on the front where some of the sacramental wine had splashed up the last time he had worn this robe. He had forgotten to have it cleaned. He sighed and lowered his arms. It wasn't noticeable now, the spots hidden in the folds around his arms.
Not for the first time, he thought how nice it would be to have an assistant to take care of such things. In the larger parishes, there were secretaries, vestry clerks, pastoral assistants, a veritable staff of lay workers to relieve the priest of the mundane tasks and give him more time for the real work of the gospel. On the other hand, the larger parishes also had larger congregations from which to draw such helpers, and more parishioners in need of the priest's attention.
Vincent briefly considered, also not for the first time, whether the time he spent at Avril's yard, not to mention the extra time he had spent in the past few days planning the upcoming party, might not be better spent dealing with exactly such mundane tasks as taking his laundry to the cleaners. He couldn't afford to become neglectful of his primary calling. His justification, both to himself and to anyone who might ask, for the party at Avril's was, not entirely unreasonably, that a priest should be accessible to the people, not sit in the self-imposed solitude of the church, emerging only to distribute the sacrament and absolution. By becoming involved in community activities and mingling with the people, he was making it clear that he didn't consider himself any better than them, that although he was a servant of the Lord, he was also one of God's children.
First thing tomorrow, he promised himself, he'd take care of the dry cleaning. On the way to picking up the grill, meat, decorations, tables, benches, and everything else he had arranged to purchase or borrow from various contacts between here and Dublin. It promised to be a long day. But at the end of it would come the reward. He exhaled and returned his focus to the Lord's Communion. He felt truly grateful and blessed, to be able to serve in this capacity. He didn't want to lose either his own faith or that of the flock in him.
*****
Liam and Donal were doing an admirable job of keeping up with demand, slapping steaks and pieces of chicken on the industrial-size open grill as fast as they were selling them. Vincent had posted himself next to them at the start of the evening, to make sure that the two didn't try to charge more than the at-cost price Vincent had set. Once things got going, he was sure that word would get around if the food started costing more than it had at the outset.
The band was late, but Vincent hadn't been worried, used as he was to the Brazilian sense of time. He had found them through a priest in Dublin, and they had agreed to play for a fraction of their usual price after Vincent had gone to meet them and discovered that he had conducted the funeral of the grandfather of one of the band members. It was a small world. As it was, they were dear enough, and their fee had depleted Vincent's meagre bank account until the end of the month. But they were good. Already, the party-goers were tapping their toes and trying to catch on to the unfamiliar Latin rhythms. Some of the younger stable hands, fortified with Oonagh's guaraná punch, were shaking around with their giggling girlfriends down in front of the makeshift stage. What they really needed was someone who could show them how to dance.
Vincent looked around the crowd and spotted Avril near The Cat's stall, chatting with Siobhan. She looked beautiful. Her black hair was pinned up in a sleek and elegant fashion, with little white flowers as accents. She said that Grainne had insisted on doing it for her. She had on a tight white top with a scoop neckline, and a thick shawl with long fringes wrapped around her shoulders against the chill. And, most uncharacteristic of all, she was wearing a long, dark skirt over her boots. Vincent hadn't had a chance to exchange more than a couple of words with her all evening, as they had both been busy working the crowd. She must have felt him looking at her, for at that moment she looked up, met his eyes across the yard and smiled secretively.
Siobhan turned to see whom Avril was looking at, but the crowd had already shifted and Vincent was no longer visible. She directed her attention back at Avril. "Who was that?" she asked curiously.
Avril played the innocent. "Hm? Who."
"I saw that look. There's something going on, isn't there?"
"Siobhan, there is nothing going on. Can't I look around at the guests at my own party without coming under suspicion?"
Siobhan's eyes narrowed. "I thought it was Father Sheahan's party."
Avril got flustered. It wouldn't look good if people found out it was her birthday. "Well, yes, he did organize everything, but after all it is my property, isn't it."
Siobhan was amused at Avril's discomfiture. "So it's more of a partnership," she said, a smile playing on her lips.
Avril laughed, "Siobhan, will you just lay off. Are you having fun or not?" she attempted to change the subject.
"I'd be having more fun if that big oaf'd pull himself away from the punch bowl," Siobhan muttered, nodding her head toward Brendan, who had stationed himself in front of the table where Oonagh and Dermot were serving up the drinks.
"How are things between you and Brendan?" Avril asked curiously.
"You're awfully nosy for someone who won't even admit who she's looking at," teased Siobhan.
"Come on, it's not like it's a secret that you've got a child together. And you brought up the topic," she continued defensively.
"We're friends, yes, and we're both happy with the way things are. In fact, I'd say Brendan's my best friend. And a good father for Aisling. Why try to change the status quo?"
"My sentiments exactly. This world would be a happier place if people would just be grateful for what they've got."
"Amen."
At that very moment, Oonagh was trying to get Brendan to move along so that she could serve some of the other guests, but he was holding forth on the parallels between Brazil's throwing off the yoke of the Portuguese monarchy and the Irish struggle for a free Republic. She was nodding her head with a glazed look in her eye while trying to hand a bottle of beer to Edso around behind Brendan when she froze. Her eyes widened and she forgot to release her grip on the bottle.
Edso tried to pull it away from her. "I've got it, Oonagh," he assured her, winking at the vacuous blonde plastered to his side.
A look of dismay came over Oonagh's face as she finally released the beer. "Uh oh. This doesn't look good."
Dermot pointed and exclaimed gleefully, "It's Wandering Palms!" At that, everybody turned around to see what they were looking at.
Garrett and Rosie had entered the yard. He looked debonair and poised, making his appearance as if it were he who was the guest of honor. Rosie, on the other hand, appeared tentative and nervous, clinging to Garrett's hand and practically trying to hide behind him. Her eyes skimmed the faces of the people nearest her, and she seemed relieved not to see Avril. She turned to Garrett and said something to him, and he murmured a reply without letting the crowd out of his sight.
Brendan and Edso both looked questioningly from Dermot to Oonagh. "Who's that?" Brendan asked.
"Avril's ex-husband, Garrett Burridge," Oonagh said grimly. "With girlfriend."
"Ouch," commented Edso. "Not a friendly split, I take it."
"You might say that," said Oonagh. "I don't know the whole story, but words were exchanged between them and Avril the last time they were here. They packed up and left in a hurry."
"Burridge," Brendan mused. "Isn't he the one who bought the curate's house in town?"
"Yeah," Dermot said with a gleam in his eye, "for a weekend love nest." He chortled until Oonagh gave him a stern look.
Edso seemed concerned. "Well should we do something?" His date furrowed her plucked brow in a mirror of his own expression.
But Brendan urged restraint. "Hold on, we don't know, maybe Avril invited them." He looked around at the others' skeptical looks. "As a gesture of goodwill," he tried to convince them.
"More likely it was Father Sheahan," Dermot said slyly.
The others looked startled, as if the thought would never have occurred to them, but now that it had been suggested, it seemed like it just might be true. Priests were always trying to reconcile people, weren't they? Or make it clear that the competition was no threat to them? With that in mind, Brendan, Edso, Oonagh, and Dermot began looking around eagerly for either Vincent or Avril. This promised to be interesting, in any event.
Siobhan and Avril had already started toward the bar, in order to pull Brendan away from it. They noticed the small flurry of activity without recognizing its cause and hurried their steps out of curiosity. At the same time, Vincent, who was trying to keep an eye on the grill, the band, Avril, and the guests simultaneously, had picked up that something unusual was going on at the bar when he saw the four heads turning every which way, and he also made his way over.
As soon as Vincent and Avril were spotted on their respective approaches, the friends at the bar turned to each other and studiously minded their own business.
Siobhan and Avril arrived first. "Find what you were looking for?" Siobhan asked Brendan as she walked up to him and slid her arm around his waist.
"What?" Brendan asked innocently. "I wasn't looking for anything."
"Funny, it looked like you'd heard Stephen Tompkinson was making an appearance, and you were trying to catch a glimpse."
"Nothing of the sort, I assure you," Brendan swore with a twinkle in his eye.
"Good evening, Edso," Avril smiled warmly at the mechanic. "Thanks for coming."
"Well you know me, I hear the word party and wild horses couldn't keep me away," Edso joked. Edso's date smiled blankly at Avril, but he didn't get a chance to introduce her, as just then Vincent joined the group.
"What's going on here?" Vincent asked pleasantly, rubbing his hands together. "Everyone enjoying themselves?"
"Oh, yes, lovely, Father," Oonagh assured him.
"But the best is yet to come," Dermot whispered loudly, winking at Vincent and inclining his head nonchalantly in Garrett and Rosie's direction, who were also on their way over.
Vincent and Avril exchanged quizzical looks, and then there was much clearing of throats to be heard. They looked around and found themselves face to face with Garrett and Rosie. The other guests nearby, stable hands, riders, trainers, and others who knew Garrett by sight, at least, fell silent, too, and whispered explanations were quickly exchanged.
"I hope you don't mind, us stopping by," said Garrett confidently, glancing from Avril to Vincent. Rosie's face was pale and solemn, but her eyes looked hopeful.
Avril swallowed. Now was the test. She had found she was able to deal with Garrett well now, especially on a business level. But she had purposely pushed all thoughts of him and Rosie together out of her head. It was still too tender an insult.
Everyone held their breath. Not even Vincent said anything. It wasn't his place to speak for Avril. He knew this was a difficult moment for her, but she needed to face it.
Garrett filled the tense silence by explaining, "I heard from the shopkeeper, what's her name, Katherine?..."
"Kathleen," two or three voices chimed in.
Garrett looked around at their audience and nodded in polite acknowledgement before continuing, "Kathleen, that there was a party here tonight, and when we drove by and saw so many cars parked outside, we thought two more wouldn't make any difference."
Avril drew her shawl closer around her, tightened her jaw and raised her chin challengingly. Two more of anyone else wouldn't make any difference, but these two would. Vincent could see that Avril was wrestling with herself over how to respond. She probably wanted to snap at Rosie, maybe at both of them, but at the same time she seemed to be trying to keep calm. Or gathering her strength for the full frontal assault. He was standing close behind her, so he lifted one hand and touched her gently on the small of the back, a gesture which he deemed to be too subtle for the others to see in the semi-darkness, to remind her that he was there and to express his support for her.
Avril felt the touch on her back and knew that it was Vincent. Her burgeoning anger was diluted by the warm intimacy of his presence. She knew that it wouldn't help anything for her to let loose with the words that were dammed up in her throat, but it was a supreme effort of will to hold back. She concentrated on the spot where Vincent's hand was and took a deep breath. "Not at all," she said a little stiffly. "I'm glad you came." And after having said it, she almost was. She felt a great relief at having passed that hurdle.
Garrett smiled affectionately at Avril. He was proud of her. Maybe the priest was having a good influence on her after all. "Thanks," he said, and looked at Rosie, because he knew there was something she wanted to say, too.
Rosie's eyes were wet. She took a step away from Garrett and toward Avril. "Oh Avril," she said, her voice full of emotion. She reached out to Avril tentatively, but then let her hand fall when Avril involuntarily hugged her arms closer against her body. "I'm so...I just wanted to wish you a Happy Birthday," she whispered, smiling through her tears.
Avril stiffened, looking daggers at Rosie. Vincent dropped his hand from her back.
"Birthday?" said Edso accusingly. "You didn't say anything about a birthday."
"Is it your birthday, Avril?" asked Siobhan with surprise.
"Yes," she said through her teeth, not removing her eyes from Rosie.
Rosie looked hurt and unsure. "What, I..." she stammered, "I thought that's what this was all about."
"If I'd known it was your birthday, I would have brought you a present," Edso said fretfully.
"Did you know it was Avril's birthday, Father?" Brendan asked pointedly.
Vincent blinked calmly. "Yes," he said. Now that the cat was out of the bag, no more explanation was necessary. Everyone looked awkwardly from Vincent to Avril.
Rosie backed away from Avril, who had closed her eyes and narrowed her lips to a thin line. "I...I'm sorry, I didn't mean..."
Garrett came to her rescue. "Hey, we didn't know it was a secret. We just figured, party, Avril's yard, birthday."
Avril opened her eyes and gave Garrett a saccharin smile. "Well it was just a coincidence," she said.
"A happy one," Brendan commented meaningfully.
"It's not so bad, Avril," Oonagh tried to comfort her, misinterpreting the reason for her reaction. "I've got quite a few years on you, and I'm still in my prime."
"Me, too," Siobhan piped up. "Life begins at forty, isn't that right, old man?" She nudged Brendan in the ribs.
"Oh is that what that was?" Brendan joked. "I thought it was a hernia."
The others laughed at that. Avril relaxed somewhat with the conversation turning to age rather than the reason for the party. "Look," she said to Garrett. She still wasn't up to speaking directly to Rosie. "Look," she said grudgingly, "you're welcome to stay, have some food, whatever. It's a free country, right?" She looked around and addressed the assembled gawkers, "And what are you all standing around for? Go, dance, it's not every night this place turns into the Copacabana!"
Seeing that there weren't likely to be any deaths or catfights that evening, the rest of the guests drifted back to their own conversations, but not before several of them had come up to Avril to congratulate her. She accepted their well wishes with a formal grace. Vincent stood off to the side and observed her. It was turning into her evening, which was as it should have been from the beginning. However, Vincent had to admit to himself, although everyone here tonight thought positively of Avril, there was no one whom she would consider a close friend, not Siobhan, not Edso, and certainly, at least at the moment, not Garrett or Rosie. Vincent was the only one who had managed to connect with her, and he was the only one who couldn't stand next to her, embrace her, and kiss her on the cheek, as so many of these half-recognized acquaintances were doing. It did cause a certain amount of resentment in him, against the society and the hierarchy that ruled his conduct.
Brendan moved over to where Vincent was standing alone. "Too bad," he mused, watching Avril, too.
"Hm?"
"That she didn't want anyone to know about her birthday," Brendan explained.
"Mm," Vincent grunted noncommittally.
Brendan sneaked a glance at Vincent. "Excepting yourself, of course."
"One of the privileges of having access to the parish records, Brendan," Vincent stated.
"So this whole thing was just a coincidence, was it," Brendan said, gesturing around at the decorated yard with his glass.
Vincent nodded firmly. "Absolutely."
"Because how would it look, you, a priest, organizing a birthday party for a certain one of your non-church-going parishioners."
Vincent turned to Brendan and asked, a little irritated, "I don't know, Brendan, how would it look?"
Brendan spoke carefully and with understanding. "It would look, like you cared about her."
Garrett and Rosie were also hanging back and conferring quietly, and when the crowd around Avril had diminished somewhat, they approached again.
"Look, Avril, we'd like to apologize for causing any unpleasantness," Garrett said gallantly. "It certainly wasn't our intention."
"I know," Avril said coldly.
"I'm sorry I mentioned about your birthday," Rosie said, subdued. "But, well, now that it's out, I wanted you to have this." She took a slim box out of the pocket of her lambskin coat and held it shyly out to Avril. "It's a pair of riding gloves," she explained, keeping her eyes focussed somewhere on Avril's neck.
"Thanks," Avril muttered as she forced herself to take the box. She sincerely hoped Vincent was around somewhere, since it was more for his sake than for anyone else's that she was being so civil, but she didn't dare look around for him now.
"Well," Garrett said finally, as no further conversation seemed forthcoming from either of the sisters. "I'll just check in on Steely and Mr. Tibbs," he said, referring to the two horses he had brought by earlier, "and then we'll be on our way." He looked at Rosie for confirmation, but she didn't respond one way or the other.
"Fine," Avril said bruskly. She had had enough of being the courteous one. If they wanted to leave, she wouldn't try to change their minds. Garrett and Rosie's presence was becoming more and more of an irritant to her.
The rest of the evening passed without incident, with Avril and Vincent keeping at a studious distance from one another. The punch was polished off, the barbecue died down, the band finished their last set, and the last few guests wandered happily off into the night. Avril wanted to help with the clean-up, but she was shooed off to her apartment with the explanation that she shouldn't have to work on her birthday.
About an hour later, Vincent knocked lightly on the green door to Avril's apartment before pushing it open. "Avril?" he said, looking around the empty kitchen. She must still be up, the light was still burning. Then he heard her bare feet approaching on the stone floor. She came into the kitchen, wearing a long satiny white dressing gown belted at the waist. The top part was wrapped loosely and gaped at the neck, so Vincent could see the ridges of her delicate collarbones and a good deal of the smooth, glowing skin of her upper chest. She had already brushed her hair out. Her face became even more beautiful when it broke into a smile at seeing Vincent.
He stayed in the doorway. "We're all finished out there," he said, gesturing with his thumb back over his shoulder toward the darkened yard.
Avril stood on her toes and craned her neck to see around Vincent. All the lanterns had been taken down, the tables cleared away, the benches stacked. She could hear the sound of male voices and car doors opening and closing.
Vincent glanced in the direction she was looking. "The fellas are just packing up their equipment."
Avril stepped up to the door, apparently intending to go out again. Vincent moved a step back so that she could pass, but she stopped just next to him and waved a greeting to the moving shadows outside. "Hey, thanks again, lads!" she called out.
Two or three friendly voices responded to her in Portuguese; she assumed they were saying good night or something similar.
Vincent looked down at Avril. Her robe had slipped down low on one shoulder when she had raised her other arm to wave. It looked like she didn't have anything else on underneath. Avril turned to Vincent and touched his elbow. "Do you want to come in?" she invited him lightly, without any ulterior motive whatsoever.
Of course he did. "No, it's pretty late. I just wanted to give you this." He held up between them a CD that he had been holding in one hand. "Actually, it's from the band."
Avril took the CD and read the label. It was a recording of the band that had played tonight. "They didn't have to-- Hey, thanks!" Avril waved the CD in the air and shouted out into the darkness.
The response was the gunning of an engine and the glare of headlights as the Brazilians turned their van around and drove out of the yard, accompanied by a high-pitched yell, whistles, and laughter. After a moment, the only sound was the occasional whiffle of a horse and the chirping or clicking of an insect.
Avril looked up at Vincent. Although the night was cool, he was perspiring. He had worked so hard, not just at the cleaning up, but also preparing everything, making all the phone calls, organizing the food and music, helping load and unload everything. He was really in his element when there was work to be done. But this hadn't been church work. This had all been for her. Well, for half the town, as it had turned out, but in the first place for her. "Thank you, Vincent," she said, her voice and her eyes conveying not just her gratitude, but also her love and respect for this man.
Vincent felt a surge of tenderness for Avril. It gave him such a profound satisfaction to see her happy, and even more so to know that he had done something to make her feel that way. He knew that she could take care of herself, but he still had the urge to take care of her. He could feel the warmth from her on one side of his body, competing with the night air on the other side. It was time to say good night. But there was one more thing. "Can I kiss the birthday girl? On the cheek," he added, just so there was no misunderstanding. But he and Avril were beyond misunderstandings. They both knew what the other one felt.
Avril smiled at him coyly. "Just remember, if I don't like it, I may have to kiss you back," she teased, reminding him of the night of the foaling, when she had angrily reacted to his kissing her on the forehead by kissing him on the lips. But now things were different. There was no anger in her anymore, and neither one of them was being caught off-guard.
Vincent put his hands on her shoulders. The material of her dressing gown was slightly slippery between his fingers, and he could feel the muscle of her upper arm yield slightly under the pressure he placed on it. He leaned toward her and placed his cheek against hers and closed his eyes. Her skin was warm and soft and unbelievably smooth. He inclined his head slightly so that his lips made contact with the back of her cheek just before her earlobe. He inhaled once, slowly, taking in the scent that he had dreamed so many times, ever since he had first encountered it that night in Pilgrim's Progress's stall. Then he moved his head ever so slightly away and breathed out, as steadily as he could manage, which wasn't very. "Happy birthday," he whispered.
Avril didn't make a move. She seemed to have stopped breathing altogether. He moved his hands slightly farther back on her shoulders. She could feel his breath on her neck, and it gave her goosebumps of pleasure all down her spine. He started to pull back, and she thought that was already all (and it had been plenty!), but then she realized that his lips were still barely grazing her cheek. He hadn't planned this, but now it seemed to him inevitable. This was no desperate act in some dark corner, they were both in complete control of their actions. There was no coercion, no flimsy platitudes. He hovered over the surface of her skin, just barely agitating the tiny hairs on her cheek with his lips, until he reached the corner of her mouth. Her lips were slightly parted, and he could smell the toothpaste on her breath. Then he slid his lips over hers and kissed her with incredible gentleness and restraint, considering that his entire body was urging him to press himself onto her.
Avril dared finally to reach up and put her hands on his arms, caressing them lightly. Now that the acknowledged barrier between them had been breached, Avril felt a wave of desire well up in her. She was about to lift her hand up to the back of Vincent's head when he broke the kiss and pulled her close to his chest, his breath catching in his throat. She put her arms around his waist instead and pressed her forehead against his neck, breathing in the smell of his desire. She could feel his heart pounding. A cold breeze from outside blew up her bare legs, causing her to shiver involuntarily. Her senses were already on edge. Vincent felt her tremble and was brought back to the here and now. It was really, really time for him to go. If he stayed, he would be leading both of them down a road that couldn't have a good ending. He couldn't offer her a stable relationship. She would just end up disappointed and disillusioned.
"Avril," he whispered. He gently pulled back on her shoulders so that he could see her face. Her eyes were wide and dark, and she looked so blissful. "I do..." he said softly, "but I can't." He searched her face for any sign of disappointment or sadness, and was surprised to find none.
Avril smiled at the delicious feeling that both the kiss and his words had given her. It was all much more than she had ever expected, more than she would ever have let herself hope for. "I do, too," she said, looking into his eyes. "And I would never ask you to."
He nodded. "I know," he said, and he meant it all. He knew.
END