Chapter Three

In Peter's hotel room, Assumpta paced back and forth, anxiously searching for something to distract herself. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table. 3:46am. The 'hour' Peter was going to take had long passed, and Assumpta began to wonder whether she'd been too quick to take comfort in his safety. She heard an ambulance come wailing past - the fourth one in ten minutes - and collapsed helplessly onto the bed. She closed her eyes, and tried unsuccessfully to switch off her mind.

It was 4:13 when he finally knocked on the door. Assumpta rose to open it.
'You said you'd only be an hour,' she said, accusingly.
A completely exhausted and dishevelled Peter moved past her into the room.
'Don't, Assumpta. Please.'
He flopped down onto the bed. His arm was bandaged, and he had a dressing on his head.
'You've been at the hospital,' Assumpta guessed.
'Yeah.'
'Are you okay?'
'Yeah. Just cuts and bruises, and a couple of burns.' He shrugged.
Assumpta sat down next to him.
'And the others? I mean, did everyone make it out okay?'
Peter sighed. 'Well, everyone made it out, but not everyone's okay.' He turned to look at her. 'No one's dead, if that's what you mean.'
'Well, that's good news, isn't it?'
'I guess. I'd be surprised if some of them make it through the night, though. The state they were in, Assumpta...'
Tears began to fall from Peter's weary eyes, and Assumpta reached over to brush them away with her thumb.
'Hey...' she said, in the sweetest and most gentle voice Peter had ever heard, 'I'm sure they'll pull through. They're in good hands, now.'
Peter managed a sad smile, which Assumpta returned.

Their eyes locked, and in their gaze was an unspoken agreement to forget their complicated reality, all the confused feelings and unspoken words between them, the ugly truths that awaited them back in Ballykissangel. Just for tonight, they'd forget all that, and just be thankful that God had allowed them to be here, alive, together.

'You should get some sleep,' Assumpta said.
'So should you.'
'Do you want me to go?' she asked, although she already knew – or hoped she knew – the answer.
'No, please don't. It's not safe out there.'
And I need you, he wanted to add.
'Okay. So, I'll just stay then...' she said, questioningly.
Peter smiled in reply.

'I'd better have a shower,' he said, gathering his stuff, and heading to the small bathroom. He paused, as a thought struck him.
'Ah... If you need something to... wear... just help yourself,' he said, nervously, gesturing to his suitcase.
Assumpta raised her eyebrows. 'Oh yeah, I've heard vestments are the latest trend in sleepwear chic.'
But, once Peter was safely out of sight, she went over to his things. Not really thinking she should spend too long going through his suitcase, she picked up the first suitable thing she found, and got changed.

Emerging from the bathroom dressed in sweatpants and a grey T-shirt, Peter caught sight of Assumpta, and stopped dead in his tracks. She was standing at the window, wearing his navy blue knitted jumper (which, of course, fit her like an oversized woollen dress) and the pair of black opaque tights she'd been wearing under her skirt that day.

She turned to face him, and said, 'I look like some sort of giant smurf.'
All Peter could manage was a wobbly smile in response. What was it that was so alarmingly attractive about seeing her in his clothes? He started to think that maybe this wasn't such a good idea, but – he glanced at the bed – he really was knackered... not just physically, but emotionally and mentally as well. He was sure that Assumpta was too. They were in no real danger, tonight.

Peter turned off the light, and climbed into bed. Assumpta climbed in, too, but, still sitting up, she turned to look at Peter in the dim street light flooding through the curtains, biting her lip apprehensively. He smiled, opening his arms to her.
'Come on, then.'
She settled into his arms, and rested her hand on his chest. He placed one hand on her waist and the other over her own, lacing their fingers together.
'How are you feeling?' Assumpta whispered.
She knew how deeply Peter cared about others, how much he felt their pain. She knew that the day's events would be weighing heavily on his heart.
'Oh, I'm feeling about a million different things right now, Assumpta,' Peter whispered back.
'Like?'
'Like that you look incredibly beautiful as a giant smurf.'
'Peter!' she said, admonishingly.
'Okay, okay.' He thought in silence for a few moments. 'I just... I just don't understand why God would let this happen...'
'No. Neither do I,' Assumpta replied. Then, after a pause, 'But maybe it's none of our business.'
'What?'
'"For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future." – Jeremiah, chapter 29... He knows the plan... It doesn't mean we get to.'
Assumpta couldn't see Peter's face, but she knew it would bear a rather shocked expression.
'That's right,' she said, indignantly, 'I know things.'
'You surprise me.'
'Do I?'
Peter squeezed her hand. 'Constantly.'
Assumpta smiled. 'Goodnight, Peter.'
'Goodnight, Assumpta.'

Assumpta guessed that Peter didn't sleep much at all, because, every time she woke during the night, he'd be rhythmically rubbing her back or stroking her hair. As lovely as it was, she wished he could get some rest. It was almost sunrise before they were both sleeping soundly.

Mid-morning sunlight was streaming through the window when Peter opened his eyes, still dazed, somewhere between awake and asleep. Glancing over, he saw a sleeping Assumpta lying next to him.
Oh, he thought with a smile, it must be a dream.
Dreams were delightful. He could do anything he wanted, without having to worry about pesky things like consequences.

He reached out for Assumpta, and woke her with a soft kiss. Some wonderful mixture of perfect peace and electric alertness coursed through his body. There was something so much sweeter about this kiss than any he'd dreamed before.
Rising out through layers of sleep, Assumpta assumed the mouth on hers must be Leo's. She opened her eyes, ready to deliver a grouchy "Not now, Leo", but the scene before her made the previous night's events come flooding quickly back to her memory. It wasn't Leo at all, it was...
'Peter,' she whispered, running her hands through his hair as she returned his kisses.

As Peter moved closer to her, they were interrupted by a loud knock on the door. He pulled sharply back. This never happened in his dreams...
'Ignore it,' Assumpta whispered, pulling him helplessly back to her.
But their visitor persisted.
'I'll get rid of them,' Peter said, and, putting on a dressing gown, he went to answer the door. Assumpta sat up in the bed, running her hands through her hair in exasperation. A wall obscured her from the view of whomever was at the door. She heard Peter open it and then loudly exclaim what was probably the last word in the universe she wanted to hear at that moment.

'Leo!'