Series 5, Episode 3

"Finding Happy"

She stretched as she surfaced back to consciousness and felt the sheets go cold under her feet. Rolling a little, she reached behind herself but the bed was empty. The morning light through the window sheers was still gold, so she didn't bother to glance at the clock. There was time. Assumpta curled on her side, pulled the blankets tighter around her shoulders. Where had he gone to? She touched her bare breast, tight from the chill. Was he in the loo? Would he slip back into bed and cuddle up behind her? Would he kiss her neck again? Would he want to make love again?

She smiled when she thought about him, and the whole thing made her feel silly, like a schoolgirl again…not that she'd ever felt like this as a school girl. If she had, school would've been a very, very different experience.

The smell of something warm and sweet pulled her from her half-sleep reverie. The clock said it was just past seven – far too early for Niamh to be up and about. Michael Ryan would have a thing or two to say if he thought for one moment that Assumpta had put her to work. And so would Ambrose.

She slid out of the bed, shrugged a dressing gown over her bare shoulders, tied it around her middle, and shuffled into slippers. Avoiding the mirror, Assumpta plodded down the stairs, wishing she was still in bed, preferably with a warm body pressed against her.

The warm body in question greeted her when she stepped into the pub's kitchen, and he was wearing a considerably more than when she'd last seen him.

"And there's your auntie Assumpta," Peter said happily to Kieran, who sat on the workbench next to a mixing bowl and was half covered in flour and dough. The little boy looked delighted to see her, prompted by Peter, and he held out his messy hands for Assumpta. She laughed a little at the wonderful silliness, and then smiled at Peter.

"Something smells amazing." There were half a dozen plates lined up on the table, each piled with biscuits. "When did you get up this morning?"

"I went to see Niamh before Ambrose left for work," he told her. "Which is how we ended up with this little lad today. Herself is feeling a bit under the weather and I told her we'd look after him until Brian can fetch him this afternoon."

"We?" Assumpta asked.

"Well…yeah. I've got the church bake sale…though, I suppose I could…" He looked doubtfully down at Kieran.

"No, no," Assumpta said rubbing her head. Peter was right, the last think the bakesale needed was the ex-priest to show up with a toddler and cookies looking contentedly domestic instead of repentant. She just needed some caffeine to deal with the morning. "I can watch him."

"Kieran's a good lad. He won't be any bother."

"Yeah," Assumpta said. "Coffee?"

"No, thanks."

"No, I'm, asking if you've made any."

"Oh. No."

"How do you function without coffee in the morning?"

Peter shrugged, smiled. "Good nights sleep, I suppose."

"Mmm." Assumpta padded to the coffee pot next to the oven and busied herself with measuring and filling. "What is that I'm smelling now? Not biscuits."

"Soda bread. I've got three loafs in the oven – no! Don't open that!"

Assumpta froze with her hand on the oven door. "I just want to see-"

"You'll see when it's done," Peter told her. "Patience is a virtue."

"So is chastity, but I don't see us going overboard with that one."

"Just you wait until they're done," Peter said in his reasonable authoritarian voice.

With and exaggerated huff, Assumpta grabbed a rag, wet it in the sink, and then started to wipe Kieran down. He wriggled and screeched in protest.

"Should I check in on Niamh later? How bad was she?"

"You might," Peter said, "though I think she'll be fine. She was up most of the night sick, and Ambrose said she just needed a bit of rest."

"Her morning sickness hasn't gone away with this one."

"Maybe it's a girl," Peter said happily. "Aren't girls often difficult pregnancies?"

"I was. My mom never let me forget it."

A strange expression fluttered briefly over Peter's face, and then he went back to stirring whatever was in his bowl. "You don't often talk about your mum. Or either of your parents."

"No?" He was fishing, she could tell, but she had no intention of opening up that can of worms. She collected Kieran and put him on her hip, and his weight naturally curled against her. "Well. Now that I've got this lad washed up, I'll take him upstairs while I put the laundry in."

"Assumpta, wait." Peter touched her arm, and pulled her close, and Assumpta's breath caught as she waited for a kiss. His mouth was slightly open, and his eyes dropped down to her lips. A familiar tingle fluttered at the base of her belly. Kieran giggled and tugged on her robe, and Peter smiled, too.

"Have a biscuit," he said, nodding to the line of plates without actually taking his eyes off her.

She was still waiting for that kiss. "It's a bit early for me."

"Oh, come on. Live a little. It's noon somewhere." His eyes dropped back down to her mouth. "Assumpta."

Her face went hot, and she tried to smile her giddiness away. "You're a bad influence," she muttered, as he handed her a heavy biscuit. Kieran reached for it with fat fists and a wide, wet mouth, but Peter happily side-stepped the little boy's attempt.

"Mine, mine, mine!" Kieran insisted.

"You've had yours," he said lightly. Kieran protested, kicking and squealing, and Assumpta shifted him to the other hip. "He loves sweets."

"He's not the only one, it seems. Where did you learn to do all this?"

"Me mum. She was a great baker. Have a bite."

Assumpta took the biscuit, and while he watched, she slowly bit into it. Sweet, soft, chocolate, rich. Beyond rich. Moist. Gorgeous. "Oh, my God." She'd never tasted anything so completely decadent in her entire life. "What is this?"

"Chocolate chip."

"It is not!" She took another bite. "Oh, my God."

"It's good then?"

"Oh my God!"

Peter chuckled, and Kieran echoed his delight. "Mine, mine, mine!"

"Have another," Peter tempted.

She held up the cookie as if it was a dagger. "This is dangerous."

"I think the spice almond biscuit is even better." He handed her another, but with Kieran on one side and the chocolate chip on the other, he had to hold it while she took a bite.

"OHM'G'D!" she crooned through a mouthful of pleasure. "What is that?"

"Coconut."

She groaned, and her eyes rolled shut as she chewed. Savored. Relished. She knew she'd fallen for the right man.

"Don't worry about the ingredients," Peter began. "I bought them all, so this won't be a drain on Fitzgerald's-"

She grabbed the biscuit from him. "I don't care." She leaned to him, stood on her toes, and kissed him long and hard. Sugar and chocolate mixed with excitement in a heady combination. His mouth yielded almost immediately, and he cupped the back of her head closer. It was the toddler complaining that finally broke them apart, and for a moment Assumpta considered sending him back to where he came from.

Peter stared down at her through heavy-lidded eyes. "Do you have any idea what that does to me?"

"I have an idea, yeah."

"I'm going to be saying Hail Marys for days."

"He doesn't really give you Hail Marys for contrition, does he?"

Peter smirked. "Well, not for the things I've been confessing lately. That would be tasteless."

And then something Assumpta hadn't considered before suddenly occurred to her. "You confess what we do in the bedroom to Father Mac?"

"Well, of course. He's my confessor. Now that Father Chris won't hear me. I've never known a man of God to hold such a grudge before."

"But, you tell him? Father Mac? About us?"

Peter's brows lowered in confusion. "It's a sin, Assumpta. I have to confess."

She didn't like the matter-of-fact way he labeled their lovemaking, or the casual Catholic dogma he applied to it. "What exactly do you tell him?"

"Are you asking how explicit I am? Assumpta, please." His face soured. "The act of confession is a sacred and holy-"

"And what we do in our bed isn't?"

"If you would only marry me-"

She turned away from him, and Kieran made another attempt at the biscuits, but she kept them beyond his reach. "You said you wouldn't push."

"Yeah, I know." He shook his head, and went back to the bowl, though he barely made an attempt at mixing. "I'm sorry."

Assumpta signed. It had been such a lovely morning a moment ago, so wonderfully promising. "Peter, I know. I know what this is costing you."

"Do you?"

"More than, I think, you know what it's costing me."

His lips went even thinner than usual, as he looked into her eyes. "I love you," he said quietly.

She smiled for him, nodded, and then left him to his baking.

Niamh was curled on her side, but even with the pillows tucked in at odd angles, propping and cradling, she was still uncomfortable. The last three weeks were always the worst, she told herself. But it was poor comfort when her back ached and her stomach felt as if might revolt at any moment. She'd not been able to keep down more than water and broth all morning. She missed warm buttered toast.

The door downstairs closed, and she heard the happy call of her son.

"I'm up here," Niamh yelled down, and a few moment later Assumpta walked into the bedroom in a dressing gown and boots, with Kieran on her hip. He squealed at Niamh, held out his arms for her, and giggled when he was dumped on the bed beside her. Kieran was such a cuddly boy. One day soon, she knew, he'd outgrow his sweet, gentle nature and no longer want even so much as a peck on the cheek from his old mom.

"My sweet boy."

"Try this," Assumpta said, shoving a biscuit in Niamh's face.

"Ugh! No. I can't. Get that away from me."

"What? You're still sick? Can't Michael give you something for that?"

"Too close to my due date."

"But…but I need to know if these are good."

"You have a tongue."

"I know. But…maybe I only want them to be the richest, most decadent thing I've ever tasted."

"Those biscuits, there? They look like oatmeal."

"Yeah, if oatmeal was made with sin!"

"Sin, eh?" Niamh said with a smirk. "They can't be that good. You've got sin on the brain."

"Maybe I do. I need a second opinion."

Niamh looked at the biscuit, and then at Assumpta's excited expression, and she couldn't say no. "If I'm sick, you'll clean it up."

"Sin, Niamh. You can taste the sin."

Slowly Niamh brought the biscuit to her mouth, and Kieran opened his as he watched her take a bite. Her eyes rolled back, and a languid smile stretched across her face. "Oh, Mary, Jesus and Joseph."

"So, they are good?"

"Sinful."

"People will come for the cookies. They may hate me and resent Peter, but they'll come for the cookies. They're that good. Niamh, tell me they're that good."

Niamh nodded. "Sinful," she crooned, taking another bite. "I didn't know Peter had it in him."

Assumpta smiled and looked away, and Niamh thought she caught a blush creep across her friend's face.

"And," Niamh said, letting her squirming son attack the rest of the biscuit. "And now are things between you and Peter."

"How are things between you and Ambrose?" Assumpta pointedly returned.

For a moment Niamh debated whether to tell her or not. Things had been strained lately. The baby was certainly the majority of the tension between them – Ambrose had been terribly worried ever since Niamh had collapsed – but it had been weeks since he'd touched her, and she knew that had very little to do with the pregnancy and more to do with Peter's sudden return without the collar. They'd had a few rows over it, and while they hadn't been major, not by their standards, it had left things on edge between them, and too much left unsaid.

"Niamh? I was…I was just being spiteful. I'm sorry."

"I know. But…things haven't been brilliant."

"Are you and Ambrose having problems?"

"No. Not really. And I'm sure things will be easier once the baby arrives."

"You think adding another child is going to make things easier between you and Ambrose?"

Niamh smirked. "I think we'll both be too tired to think about anything more important than nappies and formula." They both laughed, and it felt good, easy, in a way that things hadn't been for a while. "Ambrose is the one for me. I know it. This is just a rough patch that we'll work through. That's what marriage is about. And Peter is the one for you. There's no hiding from it, you know."

"Yeah, well…"

"Well, what? You've got another one stashed away, have you? Can you honestly tell me you see anyone but Peter in your life?"

"No."

"Neither can I. It's always been him, hasn't it? Even when it couldn't be him."

Assumpta nodded, but she didn't seem very happy about it. She inhaled deeply. "I've got to go. Shall I take Kieran with me?"

"No. Leave him here. And tell Peter I was a dozen of those biscuits. Two dozen. And, preferably before Ambrose gets home. One of those will earn me a kiss or two, wouldn't you say?"

Paraig and Eamonn sat at the end of the bar, and Assumpta served a late lunch to a couple of tourists at one of the tables. It was a quiet afternoon, which should've upset her given her current cash flow problems. But Niamh's comment had stayed with her through the morning, and Assumpta found herself distracted by the lie she'd told.

Siobhan walked in with a large bag over one shoulder and a baby in a car seat hanging from the other arm. A general greeting followed, and Assumpta smiled and offered her an orange juice.

"None for me," Siobhan said, "but will you warm a bottle for me? Or better yet, can I use your kitchen? My breasts are aching and I know Ainsling is hungry."

"Siobhan!" Paraig protested. "Not here!"

"I said in the kitchen," Siobhan called back to him.

"That's where my food is prepared!"

"What food?" Assumpta asked pointedly. "Come on Siobhan."

Assumpta collected a towel and a warm, wet cloth as Siobhan settled herself at the table and pulled the baby out of her carrier. "And how is motherhood?"

"About like I expected. Painful and exhausting." She unbuttoned her shirt, and exposed one full breast. The nipple was chapped and bruised, and Assumpta couldn't hide her reaction. "No, it's all right. The other looks a lot worse." She accepted the cloth, and cleaned her breast before offering it to her daughter, who started suckling even before the nipple was properly in her mouth. Siobhan sighed, and relaxed.

"That has to hurt."

"Yeah. But not feeding her hurts more."

"Niamh never looked like that."

Siobhan shrugged. "It's better since I started using the pump. And Michael has given me a cream, but I have to wait four hours after I use it to feed her, so I mostly put it on at night when I know Brendan will give her a bottle." She smiled down at her daughter, and smoothed a finger over Ainsling's round cheek.

"I can't imagine it," Assumpta said, taking a seat herself.

"It's only natural," Siobhan told her. "You'll see."

"No."

Assumpta's response surprised her, but then Siobhan smiled. "I said that once, too."

"Peter wants children."

"I can't say as I'm surprised to hear that. He's a way with Ainsling, sure. She's already wrapped around his little finger. You'd think he was the father instead of that great lump who's scared to change her nappies." And then Siobhan smiled again. "No, I shouldn't say that. Brendan is good with her. He's good with us both."

"You're happy then. You've made the right decision."
"Having the baby, you mean?"

"The baby. The husband. All of it."

Siobhan glanced at her, studied her, and then looked back down at her daughter. "You're not so happy," she said mildly.

"I am. I think. No, I am."

"But?"

Assumpta sighed. She didn't particularly want to confide, but her life had become complicated, and she trusted Siobhan not to judge too critically. And, she decided, it wasn't like she could talk to Peter about it. Or anyone else, for that matter.

"Tea?" she asked, and when Siobhan shook her head no she put the kettle on anyway. At the worktop, sorting bags, she said, "Niamh asked if I could ever see myself with anyone besides Peter."

"And you told her no, of course."

"Of course."

"But that's not entirely true?"

"Well." Assumpta pull out two mugs, and then turned and met Siobhan's eyes. "It is true. To a certain point."

"And which point would that be?"

"Leo."

The silence that followed was punctuated by the wet smacks of the baby and the low rumbled of the water heating behind her.

"I see."

"No, no. I'm not saying this right. It's not that I want to marry Leo again. Hell, I don't want to marry anyone. And I don't love him, not the way I love Peter. But…I miss him."

"Well, that's understandable. You two were together for a long while before he went to England."

"Yeah. But it's…it's more than that. I really miss him. I don't want to make love with him or kiss him or any of that business, but he was my best friend. And, I know Peter's supposed to be that now, but…" She shook her head, already regretting saying anything at all. "Look, I'm not going to do anything. I'm not going to call him, and I'm certainly not going to betray Peter in any way. I just…there was no real end with Leo. And I care about him."

"Do you think about him when you make love to Peter."

"No!"

"But you feel guilty anyway," Siobhan said. "You do feel like you're cheating."

"But I'm not."

"No, you're not." Siobhan smoothed a hand over her baby's head. "It's never simple, is it? Have you talked to Peter about this?"

"I can't."

"You should."

"Leo isn't something we can talk about."

"If you want him as a friend-"

"He's also my ex-husband. Peter is tolerant, but no one is that tolerant. And things are still too new."

Siobhan nodded. "Perhaps you're right."

"Yeah?"

"I don't know. I married my best friend and then fell in love with him. Maybe you'll become best friends with the man you love."

"And Leo?"

"Do you want a friendship with him? Or closure?"

The kettle began to whistle, and Assumpta was saved from having to respond to a question she didn't know the answer to.

"Is it possible?" Siobhan said slowly, almost carefully, and Assumpta braced herself against the worktop. "Might you be looking for an excuse not to get any closer to Peter?"

"You mean now that I'm on the verge of being truly happy, am I looking for a way to sabotage the most significant relationship I've ever had?" Assumpta glanced at the woman at the table. Siobhan didn't try to correct her.

"I see the thought has crossed your mind," Siobhan said instead.

Assumpta poured their water, and then placed a mug on the table for Siobhan. "I don't want to ruin this."

"Of course you don't. But you're afraid. So much can go wrong, and if it does, you've lost everything. Well, not everything. You've still got your house and your business, and friends. Other friends. But you will have lost everything that really matters. And then there's the baby-"

"Baby!"

"Oh. Sorry. That was me." Siobhan chuckled and then glanced at Assumpta. Her face went serious. "Something to think about, though. When Peter turned Houdini, things went very dark for you. But Leo's been gone just as long, and it's hardly the same. You miss him, yeah, but it's not like…"

"No, it's not. You're right."

They both sipped their tea.

Kevin sat at his kitchen table, glaring at his clasped hands while trying not to come out of his skin. Father Peter – or, rather, just plain Peter – sat next to him, turning all colors of red as he tried to think of something to say. Kevin really wished he wouldn't. It was none of his business anyway. But Kevin had agreed to the talk so long as plain Peter didn't tell his father.

"It's just…these things are very complicated," plain Peter said, and his face twisted in a comical sort of wince.

"It really doesn't seem that complicated to me."

"Yes, well. That illustrates how very young you are."

"Do I call you Mr. Clifford now?" Kevin asked, not feeling at all young. It really wasn't his fault if plain Peter was old.

"Uh…yes. If you like. Or Peter."

"Peter? Man to man, eh? Even while you're giving me a talking to?"

"You're very cheeky today."

"You just ended what might've been the best afternoon of my life. I'm feeling a bit cheeky."

Peter smirked. "Well, at least you're honest. Listen, Kevin, what you and your girlfriend were doing-"

"We had protection." Kevin tried not to grin as Peter's face went five shades darker.

"Be that as it may, you're still very young. You both are."

"We're old enough."

"If that were true you wouldn't have been half dressed in the bushes behind the rectory. People who are old enough to do what the two of you were thinking of doing have beds to do it in. They don't have to sneak around. And they certainly don't ask that their father's aren't told."

"His lecture would've been shorter," Kevin grumbled. "I should've just let him shout for a while."

"Kevin, what if she got pregnant? Have you considered that?"

"I told you we had protection."

"Protection isn't infallible."

"You're only saying that because that's what the Church says."

"I'm saying it because it's true. And, beyond the obvious Catholic implications, I'm fairly sure that neither of you are in a position to provide for a baby."

"This isn't going to turn into a pre-marital sex talk, is it? Because you're not married, either."

"But I'm old enough to marry," Peter told him. "And, I could provide for a child."

"Do you have a job?"

"Well…" Peter shifted in his chair. "Not…quite yet."

"I do," Kevin told him.

"And where would you live? You and your girlfriend and the baby?"

"Here."

"What? In your father's house?"

"You're living in Mrs. McGarvey's house."

"That's Fitzgerald," Peter humorlessly corrected.

"Are you using protection?" Kevin asked, pushing and niggling even when he knew he shouldn't. He was sick of other people telling him what to do. "Of course you're not! You have Catholic implications! I have a job and protection, and you're lecturing me!"

"I'm…not. I just want you to be sure you know what you're getting into. Sex, Kevin, isn't something casual, it's not something you do for entertainment. Making love to a woman is a commitment, not just of your body, but of your heart and your life."

"I do love her. And she's my best friend. I want to spend the rest of my life with her."

"But you're fifteen! You can't possibly know-"

"What it means to love?

"What it means to commit your life to something. To someone."

"How old were you when you committed your life to God?"

"I took my vows at twenty-two."

"That's when you committed your life to the Church. When did you first commit your life to God?"

Peter looked at him for a moment, and then tilted his head a little and admitted, "I was fifteen."

"I think we're done here."

"Sit down," Peter commanded, and Kevin found himself obeying. He always obeyed, and he hated it. "Now. You want to do adult things, let's sit and talk like adults about it, shall we?"

The question was clearly rhetorical, and Kevin crossed his arms and glared at the table, and spent the following hour hating life.

Fitzgerald's emptied out by ten and Assumpta locked the door, and then turned to look at her empty pub. Peter was wiping down the bar one last time, looking just as petulant as he had all evening.

"Buy you a beer?" she asked.

"Oh. No, thanks."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" he asked with false lightness.

"Are we doing that, now?" Assumpta said flatly. "Fine. Have it your way."

"I never have it my way," he muttered under his breath.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothing."

"You know, Leo wouldn't talk to me, either."

"And now we have the Leo reference."

"Yeah," she said defiantly, "we do."

He glanced at her, and she knew she had his attention. Finally, he was looking past himself. "What do you want to talk about?"

"How about that thing that's crawled up your arse and died."

He made a face. "I think I will have that beer."

"One beer coming up."

Peter took a seat at the bar, and Assumpta poured him a pint. She eyed him while he absently twisted the corner of a napkin into a roll. "What's going on?"

"It's nothing, really. Hardly worth mentioning. I caught Kevin and his girlfriend behind the rectory in, shall we say, a compromised position."

"Really? Kevin O'Kelly?" She tried not to sound impressed. "How compromised?"

"He says they had protection."

"Wow. Good for them."

"Assumpta! They're children!"

"They're teenagers full of hormones and developing bodies. And responsible ones, it seems."

"And, they're supposed to be Catholics."

"So, you're worried about their compromised states or the possible use of birth control?"

"Both! Well, neither. I don't know. Kevin said…well, he made some very astute comparisons between him and myself."

"Between you and a fifteen year old boy?"

"Some very well-reasoned and observant comparisons."

"He called you a hypocrite." She set the beer down in front of him.

"Not in so many words," he grumbled. "When did he get so cheeky?"

"Oh, Kevin's a good lad. Better than most, actually. But I'm sure you cutting in on his tryst didn't help his mood any."

"The thing is, Assumpta, he was right. I need a job."

"Kevin told you to get a job?" Maybe Kevin was turning cheeky after all. She couldn't imagine him saying something so fresh to anyone, let alone Peter.

"Well, I have a job interview in Cildargen, so hopefully-"

"Wait. What?"

"You said I would have to get a job, and so I found a position open at the paper in Cildargen. It's only part time, but-"

"Don't take it." She couldn't explain the sudden surge of panic, but it overwhelmed her. "I want to hire you here."

He froze, watching her as if he thought she might explode. "I'm not going anywhere, Assumpta."

"I need you to bake biscuits. Lots of them. You can't work in Cildargen."

Again, he hesitated, and then he said in a calm, quiet voice, "Assumpta. You said that Fitzgerald's couldn't support-"

"I'll pay you. Whatever they're offering in Cildargen, I'll match it."

His brows drew together and his face went long. "You want me to work for you? You're serious?"

"We'll offer them free with a pint or a meal for a week, get word of mouth behind us, and then start selling them.

"They're just biscuits."

"They sold out at the bake sale."

"Well, sure, but-"

"I'll pay you hourly plus tips, and I'll supply all the ingredients, of course. Just make a list of what you need."

"Assumpta, wait-"

"And those with the coconut, make those every day. How much is coconut? It'll have to be imported, of course. How much will we charge?"

"I don't want to work for you."

If he had slapped her she wouldn't have been more surprised. "You don't?" eked out of her mouth like a whimper. Her cheeks went hot and she felt her eyes water, despite herself. "Right."

"You want me to be an employee, Assumpta. I won't do that."

"Yeah," she said, not knowing what else to say, and not trusting her voice to hold up past that one syllable.

"Assumpta, wait. I'll bake for you. I'll do anything to help you make Fitzgerald's what you want it to be. I'll clean and serve and carry heavy objects. But I want to do it as your partner and friend. And lover. Not as your employee."

"You're going to wash up as my lover?" she asked, and then smirked. Did he hear how funny that sounded? Obviously not. His face was a serious as she'd ever seen it. "If you work in Cildargen I'll never see you. I need you here, Peter."

"Then I'll be here," he said simply.

Just like that. He would be there.

She watched him sip his beer, and then he offered her a lopsided smile. A genuine smile. And then it happened. She didn't mean to say it; in fact she didn't know she was going to say it until the words slipped from her lips.

"I love you," she breathed.

"Oh, my God," Peter said, wearing a stunned expression. "Has hell frozen over?"

"Oh, stop it." She tossed a crumpled napkin at her, and he caught her wrist, slowly pulled her to him.

He stared at her mouth, and when she was close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her lips, he whispered, "I love you, too."