Chapter Seven

AN: Thanks for Regency for co-writing this chapter.

The realization that they were now standing together alone hit Jed and Abbey a few seconds after Nick and Joanne took their leave.

"So."

"So."

"So you like ladybugs?" She asked.

"Mmmyeah," he replied with both his mouth and eyebrows.

Looking at her had become more than a little uncomfortable now that they were alone.

"This conversation hit the rocks pretty fast."

Jed's face split into a grin.

"I noticed."

"Why do you think that is?"

"You tell me."

He'd spoken to her via the faceless anonymity of the confession chamber, but he longed for that same openness in the light of day. He wanted to see her face turned in expression and watch her gesture gracefully with her hands. She was something of a fascination to him. He wondered whether or not that was wrong.

She pondered audibly, pursing her lips and twining her finger together in front of her. "Perhaps, it's because you're a man of the faith I've only days ago returned to."

"Perhaps it is." Jed began to walk away from the gathering, his hands unobtrusively stuffed in his pockets. She felt compelled to follow. "I hope that doesn't mean the conversation can't be salvaged."

Abbey looked sideways at him, mystified that he was seeking her company. "I think it can."

"Wonderful, then. What'll we talk about?"

Silence trickled into the space between them as they strolled farther from the picnic into the green expanse ahead. Despite the grass, Abbey clearly saw rocks. The thought made her laugh out loud.

He raised his brows at her quizzically. "Something funny?" She touched her fingers to her lips, nodding. She didn't elaborate further, though he waited.

"I like to laugh, too," he prodded.

She gave in reluctantly. "I see rocks."

His grin, which she thought could grow no wider, did in fact widen and was accompanied by a chuckle much bigger than the man from whence it came. You wouldn't know it, but Father Bartlet had a glorious laugh and it had the oddest effect on her. Her skin tingled. His square shoulders settled as his laughter abated and he held his heaving chest with a weary smile.

"I think we've escaped them this once."

"I agree."

They wandered the mostly flat plain en route to the lake nearby. There they would talk. About what, they weren't certain. But they'd surely come to some conclusion by then.

"Who are you, Father?"

Jed looked at her, surprised both by her tone and by her question. "Who am I," he repeated. "I'm not exactly sure what you mean."

"I mean, you're so young…and something else I can't put my finger on. If I didn't know you I wouldn't believe you were a priest."

He stopped in his tracks, narrowing his eyes somewhat defensively. "You're saying I'm not priestly enough."

Abbey realized immediately that she'd insulted him. "Of course not, Father. That's not what I was saying at all."

"Then what are you saying, Abigail?"

Not easily cowed, Abbey felt shrunken beneath withering gaze. It wasn't necessarily a glare nor necessarily directed at her. But it did contain swift, hard emotions she was in no position to understand.

"I'm just saying you seem so vibrant and in-touch. It's not a stretch to imagine you teaching in a class or acting in a movie. I wanted to know why you chose this profession above the rest," she finished in a low voic.

Knowing that he was still looking at her with some semblance of a glower, he eased up, rolling his shoulders casually and counting silently from ten. It wasn't like him to lose his temper. Not with a member of his flock. Especially not with a member with whome he wished to build a strong spiritual relationship.

He pulled his mouth from its tense frown and tried for a faint smile. "It was less of a choice than a calling." He began to walk again.

More hesitantly than before, Abbey retook her place beside him to continue their stroll. "A calling?"

"Something I had to do. From an early age, I was fascinated by the Bible. Both its complexity and explicitness. I was steadied by its vow of unwavering devotion. And I thought, I can show that kind of loyalty to God. I can be forgiving and unselfish. It's only come to my attention lately that I was seeking to be God, not serve him."

"How did that make you feel?"

He was starting to think their roles had reversed. He was now the confessor. "In one way blasphemous. In a larger way, relieved."

She was surprised to hear it. "Why relieved?"

"Because that meant that I was allowed to be selfish -- and believe me, I sometimes am. I was allowed to be conservative with my personal redemption. I was allowed to falter."

They came at last to the grassy shore of the church's lake. A group of large water-worn rocks sat on the precipice of land and water, offering a convenient place for their talk to rest. He gestured for her to sit first, then filled the place beside her.

"Strong men falter, Father. Stronger men expect to someday."

"What does that make me," he asked of her honestly.

"Strong either way."

He accepted the compliment with no small amount suspicion. Not that he doubted Abigail's veracity. From their initial meeting, she had appeared genuine. But he questioned whether she meant to get back on his good side.

"I like your honesty," he conceded.

"And I like your sweater vest," she returned, hoping to lighten the serious conversation.

He looked quickly at her again, once again foiled by her words. She was one random moment after another. "Thank you. My mother made it for me."

She saddened a little then. It was the homemade things she missed most. "You're very lucky to have her." She blinked away unexpected moisture in her eyes.

"And you were lucky to have your mother."

She looked at him silently before looking up to sky. The clear day has taken a overcast tint and her eyes do fill with moisture against her wishes. Only it isn't tears. It's rain.

Large droplets of water came down, immediately matting both her and Jed's hair to their heads That was the end of their conversation. They bolted from the rocks, running with only a vague direction in mind. It wasn't long before air in front of them became foggy and hearing was futile. The only thing keeping Abbey oriented was Jed's hand wrapped securely around hers.

Somewhere on this weather-drenched earth was a picnic full of people who'd be waiting for them and worrying. And most likely giving shelter to those people, was their church. Remembering that church reminded her that he could not make her skin tingle. He was a priest, her priest.

It had to be the rain.