The following day was Sunday, and they drove around the bay and into Galway City, to go to Mass in the Cathedral. They had decided that they would be less conspicuous there than in a small village church and they deliberately dressed down too, Jed in beige chinos and sweater under his navy fleece jacket and Abbey in a casual dark green woollen pant suit.

Although the Cathedral only dated from the 1960's – "and was built on the site of the old city jail," Jed commented wryly to Abbey as they approached the church with its impressive copper dome – the interior was traditionally styled and they slipped into one of the dark mahogany pews near the back. As they waited for the service to start, Jed's eyes took in the Romanesque-style arches and pillars, the stained glass windows, the mosaic of the Crucifixion behind the altar and the marble statues representing the Stations of the Cross all around the walls.

"It's much more homely than National Cathedral, isn't it?" Abbey whispered to him. Jed nodded, thinking for a fleeting moment of the Gothic majesty, the long aisle and lofty arches of the cathedral in Washington, before his mind suddenly went back to the small church in New Hampshire where he had first found his faith – his mother's faith. While his father – no, he corrected himself quickly – while John Bartlet, in his role of Headmaster, had attended the Sunday morning service in the school chapel, he had been allowed – at least until he became a student at the school – to go to the service at the Catholic church with his mother on Sundays. He'd taken his First Communion when he was eight, become an altar boy and learned to love the ritual of the Mass. With his mother's help, and Father Tom's guidance, his childish fascination with the Old Testament heroes had gradually evolved into an understanding of the message of the New Testament and eventually to the deep personal faith that still sustained him.

Still thinking about that small church, he stood automatically for the processional hymn. When it ended, his mind as always replaced the Bishop's modern welcome with the words of the old Latin Mass – 'Introibo ad altare Dei, ad Deum Qui laetificat juventutem meam' – 'I will go up to the altar of the Lord, the Lord who gives joy to my youth.'

'But there wasn't much joy when I told him that I wanted to continue going to the Catholic church,' Jed thought and his forehead creased into a frown. In his mind's eye, he could still see the scene – his father standing there so tall, his mother looking on, and the twelve year old boy saying, more steadily than he actually felt, "I don't want to stop attending St Catherine's, sir."

"Josiah, you are about to become a student in my school – and all students attend the service in the school chapel on Sunday morning. Besides which, you are a Bartlet and the Bartlets are not Catholic," his father had said firmly, as if that was all there was to it.

"John, Jed is old enough now to make his own decision – and this is what he wants," his mother had said, quietly but firmly. That was one of the times when he had seen that spark of determination in her blue eyes, when she had stood up to her husband. "If you wish, he'll attend the service in the school chapel, but he still wants to go to St Catherine's and he can still go to the early morning Mass there."

"Stay out of this, Annie," John had said. "I've never objected to you continuing to go to your church, I've even put up with all that silly nonsense about First Communion and altar boy, whatever that means. But it's time now that Jed grew up and remembered that he is a Bartlet."

His mother had stood her ground. "Aye – and he's also my son."

Involuntarily Jed's hands tightened on the back of the pew in front of him and the Bishop's intonation of the Eucharistic Prayer seemed to fade into the distance. There it was again, the clue that he couldn't possibly have understood at the time. 'And he's also my son' – was that a reminder to John of the one fact that he could never forget? And had she been right to remind him that I was Eddy's son and not his?

Jed shook his head slightly, causing Abbey to glance round at him, but he was so locked in the past that he was only vaguely aware of her. Instead his mind ran on, remembering how he had looked from one to the other in the silence that had ensued, until finally John had said, "I think you'd better leave Jed and me to have a talk, Annie."

"Very well, but ye won't change his mind, John," she'd said and Jed remembered the encouraging smile she had given him before she went out of the room. He'd talked to her a lot about it all and knew that she understood. So he'd smiled back, but as the door closed, John had said angrily, "And you can take that stupid grin off your face, Jed. I'm well aware that your mother has put you up to this."

"No, sir," he'd replied, turning back to his father. "No, she hasn't. It's what I want. I understand the Catholic faith and I want to continue as a Catholic. I've thought about it a lot, I've read a lot too, I've talked to Mom and to Father Tom – and I know that Catholicism is right for me."

And even as I said it, Jed thought, I knew what would happen. It was his reaction every time I disagreed with him about something. He winced as he felt again that stinging slap and quickly he tried to switch off his thoughts – to return to the service that had continued without him. But then suddenly, from somewhere in the depths of his mind, came the memory of what he had overheard later. He'd been sitting on his bed, one hand held against his face as if that would somehow take the pain away, when he'd heard the raised voices from the room below.

First John's voice – "Do you really think that you need to remind me, when every time I look at him–"

Then hers – "So accept it, John – accept that he's different from you–"

"By that, you mean smarter, more intelligent – and destined for great things?" John had replied sarcastically.

"Aye, he is," his mother had replied firmly. "He will achieve great things, John – Jed has the same determination, the same passion, the same idealism inside him – and those things will take him places that you and I can't even conceive of. But if ye carry on fighting him, he's going to end up hating you – and I don't want that."

Jed looked down, his eyes closing as the congregation began to recite the Lord's Prayer. 'How can I join in with this?' he thought in sudden anguish. 'How can I say it – when I know she was right? I did start hating him–"

'Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…' The words went round and round in his head until Abbey suddenly put her hand on his. 'Peace, Jed,' she said softly. He looked round at her quickly, and realised that they had reached the sign of the peace. Forcing himself back to the present, he responded as people nearby offered the handshake of peace. The Bishop too came up the aisle, shaking hands as he did so, and Jed saw the startled look on his face as he reached them.

"I think he recognised us," Abbey whispered after the Bishop had returned to the altar again.

Jed nodded almost abstractedly, listening now to the consecration of the bread and wine, the moment that had always awed him with its sacred mystery. But, as the congregation started to go up to the altar for communion, he found himself wondering how he could go up there with all the confusion inside him.

"Jed?" Abbey nudged him as the steward reached their pew.

Jed drew in a deep breath. "Okay," he said.

Even when he reached the marble altar rail, he still wasn't sure – but as he knelt, his hands went out automatically. "God forgive me," he thought inwardly, "I really did try to respect him because I thought he was my father. But now that I know he wasn't – oh God, just help me, please."

The familiar bread and wine had a calming effect on him, and when he got back to the pew, he knelt there, his hands covering his face, not praying but just letting the calmness wash over him. It was only when Abbey put her hand gently on his shoulder that he realised that they had reached the end of the service.

"Go in peace to love and serve the Lord."

"Thanks be to God," Jed said softly, and lifted himself back to the pew again.

After a few moments, Abbey looked at him. "What happened, Jed?" she asked.

"I'm not sure," Jed said, looking at her for the first time.

"You were miles away."

"Yes, I was."

"You okay?"

"Yeah." He drew in a deep breath and then gave her his quick smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."

Together they walked to the door of the cathedral, where the Bishop was shaking hands with each member of the congregation. As Jed approached him, the Bishop smiled. "It's a great honour and pleasure to meet you again, sir."

Jed took the proffered hand and frowned slightly. "I'm sorry – we've met before?"

"You won't remember me – but yes, it was about four years ago when you were on a State visit to Dublin, yourself and Mrs Bartlet."

Jed remembered the visit and nodded with a smile. "Yes – yes, I do remember now – the service at St Mary's wasn't it? Good to meet you again, Your Grace. But – er – well, we were rather hoping that no-one would actually recognise us!" he went on with a short laugh. "We're just here for a few days on a private visit."

"Some well needed R and R after your eight years in the White House? Rest assured, Mr President, I'll tell no-one – and I sincerely hope that you'll enjoy your visit here. Mrs Bartlet, as always a delight to meet you."

"It was a lovely service, Your Grace, thank you,"

As they walked away from the cathedral and headed towards the bridge over the River Corrib, Jed looked round at Abbey. "Whoa, that was a close one – but I guess he's probably the only one who's actually met us before."

"I knew he'd recognised us when we were inside."

"Just hope no-one else does then! Maybe we were chancing it coming into the city?"

Abbey shrugged. "No, they'll just think we look like someone they know, I bet."

"Okay, so where to now?"

Abbey stopped and turned to lean on the stone wall overlooking the river. "Aren't you gonna tell me where you went to during that service?"

Jed hesitated, leant on the wall too and then shook his head. "It was just a flashback, Abbey – it doesn't really matter."

"I think it does. You've had a lot to face up to since yesterday and it worries me that you're in denial."

"I'm not, Abbey, honestly I'm not. I'm still trying to sort it all out. But I guess it's gonna take time. Can you leave it with me for now?"

"Okay, babe."

She put out her hand to take his and he gripped it tightly as they continued across the bridge. But she knew that, because of what had happened to him in the Cathedral, he had closed himself down yet again. And she knew him well enough to realise that he would keep doing that until somehow she could find a way to persuade him to face it all.

TBC