Peter, October 1998

It was beautiful at the lake. Yesterday's rain had given way to stunning early autumn sunshine and he and Assumpta had already shed their coats as they walked side-by-side along the shore of Lough Tay. It'd been Assumpta's suggestion to come here from Cildargen and they'd caught the bus together, sitting quietly next to each other.

Peter had fallen asleep the night before still in his clothes and woken pre dawn, uncomfortable and groggy. He'd changed his clothes and gone down to his favourite spot by the River Aingeal to think and to pray. As he sat praying and watching the sun slowly rise, and bathe the river in soft golden light, he had felt that the light was cleansing his soul. He had found a profound sense of calm and the noise of his head had finally quietened a bit. Assumpta's words, that she needed to hear what was in his heart, had resonated round him and he had resolved that he would stop trying to work everything out and simply make sure she knew how he felt, knew the extent of his love for her. Then, even if the rest was a mess and everything fell apart, and he still thought it might, at least she would know it wasn't because he didn't love her.

In that spirit he'd spoken to her outside the court, stopped her from running away from him, and she'd suggested coming to Lough Tay, away from prying eyes. As they walked, small against the mountains that framed the lake, Peter felt the contrast between the serenity of the scenery and the mess he'd make of being a priest in this beautiful country.

He'd obviously sighed or unconsciously made his feelings known verbally in some way because Assumpta asked him "what?"

"Where did it all go wrong?"

He spoke instinctively, verbalising his thoughts out loud for the first time since they'd gotten off the bus. He didn't look at her, it was enough to know that she was there, that she wanted to listen to him.

"Well it hasn't yet…"

"No… I was thinking of…"

He gestured round at the scenery, as if she was able to read his mind and know how that he felt he'd failed at everything he'd come to Ireland to do.

"It will though, won't it?"

It was melancholic, but it did feel that this conversation would have to be the start of everything he knew unravelling, of who he'd thought he was unravelling.

"I don't know Peter; I don't know what you want."

"I'd like some sleep"

Now he would talk. As he'd decided this morning, he would just tell her what was in his heart, even when that was messy and unsure. He turned towards her slightly as they walked.

"I wanna do the right thing"

"By who?"

"By you… the church"

"That's not possible"

He felt the familiar frustration rise in his mind. That was the problem; what he wanted wasn't possible and it made his head hurt trying to square that circle. There was no right answer.

"I'm not saying that it is; I'm just trying to tell you what I want."

"Well that's no answer; you can't love us both."

Assumpta momentarily stopped walking and her use of the word love hung in the air between them.

"Sorry, that was stupid…"

"No it wasn't, it really wasn't."

He wanted to reassure her and it was time to get onto the only thing that he was sure about. He stopped walking and turned to face her. Her face was inscrutable but she held his gaze and he was sure the edge of a smile played around her mouth.

"You must know how I feel about you"

"How would I know that?"

He couldn't quite believe that she could claim ignorance, but then it was true that he had never told her, he'd never put into words how he felt, other than his bungled attempt the night before. He had left her to read between the lines, and to guess at his implications, but nonetheless he thought she knew, he thought that was a given.

"Are you serious Assumpta?"

He paused for a minute, wanting to make sure he got this bit right.

"I think about you every minute of every day. It's like I'm working on autopilot. I take a wedding or a funeral, I hear confession, I say Mass; I say the words but it's you I'm thinking of. I can't sleep because you keep me awake… am I getting through to you?"

He paused, trying to read her face. It was definitely a smile, almost, and she was uncharacteristically bashful, dipping her gaze from his. He took it as a good sign, and matched it with his own expression feeling an incredible lightness in his spirit at having actually told her how he felt.

"Apart from that you mean nothing to me!"

It felt good. More than good. It felt like freedom. To actually say the words he'd thought and felt for so long. To see her enjoy hearing them. It didn't feel wrong and sinful, it felt like the most honest and pure thing he'd done in a very long time.

"Well, I had no idea…"

"I thought the dogs on the street knew!"

Did she really have no idea? He replayed her anger earlier, her stopping their kiss, her stoical acceptance of his decision after Kilnashee; maybe she'd thought that for him it was little and momentary, or worse that he was just playing with her. He knew how often he'd wondered the same about her, especially after she'd married Leo. Wondering how could she feel like him if she could move on so easily?

"Do you think I'd've gotten married if I known how you felt?"

"If you were in love with someone else, then sure, why not?"

Peter braced himself. He knew he needed to know, needed to understand why she had married Leo. He'd hurt so deeply over it, and tormented himself that she'd never really cared about him, or at least not like he'd wanted her to. Now was the time, the time to lay that bare, and he braced himself for more hurt.

"Were you?"

She dropped her gaze. He couldn't tell whether that was a good thing or not.

"I liked him…"

She paused, bashful again and still not looking at him.

"… I thought in time, he would drive you out of my head."

She finally looked up at him. There was a moment of pure calm in his mind as he allowed himself to bathe in the light of what she'd just said. She loved him. She'd loved him even when she married Leo. Right now, none of the messiness of that, or of anything else mattered, and Peter's hand went instinctively to her. Every time he had almost held her previous and hadn't, every time he'd drawn back from her and stopped himself, every time he hadn't and almost had, made this time all the more sweet, all the more poignant. And she didn't flinch at his touch, she didn't pull back; she let him draw her to him.

The noise returned to his mind. He couldn't believe that it was possible to feel such competing emotions. As he stared into the precipice in front of them he felt both excitement and terror, two sides of one coin. It felt like both the unravelling and the completing of himself, the ending and the beginning, failure and success.

"Weird isn't it… how something can sound so exhilarating and depressing at the same time."

He allowed his hand to roam across her shoulder and to her neck, and he felt her submit to his embrace, burying her head in his chest. He kissed the top of her head, breathing her in and closing his eyes. It might still be messy, it might still be difficult, it might still be uncertain, but here, with her in his arms, with their feelings for each other finally acknowledged and owned, Peter felt the most at peace that he had done for a very long time. He never wanted the moment to end.


Assumpta, October 1998

Assumpta sat quietly next to Peter as the bus trundled along the country roads which would take them from Lough Tay back to Ballykissangel. After all the anger and the heartache of the past couple of days, and having heard Peter declare his feelings for her, she was content to sit; to sit next to him, aware of his shoulder touching hers and that being okay. She felt strangely numb, not in a bad way, but in a way that she knew meant she hadn't really processed what had happened yet. She knew the feeling from when her mum had died, though obviously the cause in this case was the other end of the emotional spectrum.

Assumpta had woken this morning feeling despondent, and dehydrated from her late night drinking. She'd convinced herself, again, that Peter was not going to choose her, that he would retreat back into the priesthood, and that meant she needed to get away from him, properly this time. She hadn't been able to look at him on the van ride to court nor inside during the hearing, and had planned to escape quietly on her own afterwards, catching the bus home. But amazingly, Peter had had other ideas and come after her, ditching his dog collar and asking to talk, finally.

She replayed in her mind the words he'd said to her and how it felt to be held by him, to hear his heart beat for her in his chest. In that moment she'd realised how tightly she'd been wound up for so long and how it felt to finally be able to relax, to relax into him, knowing that he loved her. It made her smile, she couldn't help it. She looked at him again, he was looking out of the window, his hair tousled; he looked different somehow and she couldn't quite put her finger on how.

As the bus drew ever closer to home, some of the numbness began to wear off and she began to wonder what on earth would happen when they got back. At Lough Tay it'd felt like they were in their own little world, but as the surroundings became more familiar it was obvious that there would have to be some sort of next step. They hadn't talked about anything other than how they felt about each other, about what was in their hearts; as far as she was concerned that was, and remained, the most important thing, but at some point this bus would drop them outside her pub and his church and they would have to face the reality of their lives again.

"So, what now?"

"We do what has to be done… when we figure out what that is"

"And in the meantime?"

"Pray?"

She didn't really mind that they didn't know how to do the next bit. She supposed, initially, Peter would have to speak to Father Mac and she would have to speak to Leo and they would have to work out how, and if, they could extricate themselves from their respective entanglements. Both would take time and heartache in their different ways; nothing from here was remotely straightforward or even a known quantity - she half expected Leo not to agree to a divorce and Father Mac would definitely try and change Peter's mind - but knowing how Peter felt made such a huge difference to the uncertainty.

"A married woman and a catholic priest!"

She said it mostly in jest. She knew, just knew, that he would understand. The honestly between them gave her a confidence with him she'd not felt for ages. He turned to her and put his finger to his lips.

"Shhhhh…"

She smiled. She couldn't help it, how could she? The man that she'd loved and grieved over for so long, the man who'd effectively ended her marriage, the only one who could bring her heart to life, he was here with her and he loved her. Everything else could wait til the bus got back to Bally K.