When Father Peter Clifford woke up he was like a bear with a sore head. He felt hungover, despite the fact he had hardly touched a drop of alcohol the night before.
He made his way to the kitchen in a hunt for aspirin. He sighed as the repercussions of last night came back to haunt him. How did he let it happen? How could he stand in church during tomorrows mass and look his parishioners in the eye? He was a hypocrite. Peter's thoughts of making love to Assumpta Fitzgerald distracted him from pouring the boiling water into the mug. The steaming liquid rapidly flooded the table, narrowly missing the scrap of paper Assumpta had scrawled on not so long ago.
He picked it up and stuffed it in his pocket before mopping up the mess which lay before him. That was enough to bring the priest to tears; sliding down the wall he curled up in a ball and sobbed until his eyes were as dry as the wooden surface now was.
The frantic banging coming from the front door snapped him out of the trance and he went to the door on autopilot. He opened it to find a red faced Assumpta standing there.
"Can you not read or something is that it?" She asked barging in, making her way to the sitting room.
"Assumpta, I don't know what you mean," he said pushing the door to.
"I left you a note, on the table, in the kitchen," the Irish beauty snapped.
"Oh, what did it say?"
"That we need to talk, are you sure you aren't avoiding me?"
"Why would I be avoiding you, I spilt water everywhere and put the note in my pocket, I must have forgotten to read it," he replied wearily.
"Peter, have you been crying?" Her tone changed as she moved closer to him, her warm hands brushed against his face, he winced slightly as her fingertips traced the silver tear tracks that had been left behind.
He refused to answer, there wasn't any need to. For his body was saying it all, yet again. He took her face in his hands and their foreheads touched, closing the gap between them.
"Peter," she whispered.
In return he spoke her name as his eyes locked deep into the hazel pools that were hers.
"I can't, I'm married, this isn't fair, to anyone." She took his hands from her face and firmly kept hold of them, she watched his lip quiver.
"Don't you think I know that, Assumpta? This, us, it is killing me," he muttered, fighting back the tears. He couldn't bear to cry in front of her.
"Last night it was a mistake that is all. I had a row with Leo, he stormed off and I came to you as a friend. Everything else, it didn't mean anything." Assumpta's announcement was cold but not completely callous.
"If I mean nothing to you, in that way then why are you still holding on to me?" The Englishman stuttered.
The landlady looked down to their intertwining hands and sharply retracted her grip.
"This isn't easy for me either, you know," she sighed.
"What are we going to, eh?" Was all he could think to say and all Assumpta could do was shake her flame coloured locks in despair.
"Let me make some tea and we can try and figure out what to do next."
"Is there any point" she stated, slumping back into the settee she had been stood in front of all this time.
"Well what do suggest we do?" Peter asked refraining from losing his temper.
"I don't know but a cup of bloody tea won't solve it, that's for sure."
Peter proceeded to join her on the sofa, "then tell me what to do, Assumpta."
"I don't honestly know, but-" Peter could feel the softness of her breath as he pressed his thumb against her lips, he couldn't bear to hear what she was about to say.
Assumpta took hold of his hand once more time and placed delicate kisses on his knuckles.
"Peter, I'm sorry."
"Don't, please Assumpta, just don't do this. You have Leo." His words were bathed in spite.
She jumped up "You are impossible, do you know that. I can see how much you want this and you know my marriage to Leo has virtually been over since we came back here and now here you are, telling me to go back to him. What kind of sick kick are you getting out of this?" Her voice trailed off as she had realised her defence mechanism had once again offended Peter.
"I want you, Assumpta but I can't, not like this. It is all wrong."
"It is never going to be right, is it? You're a priest for Christ's sake."
"There is nothing I can say to change that, no matter how hard I try or pray."
Pray. That magic word that made the young publican roll her eyes in disgust. "Then don't say anything Peter. Look, I better be going, if you can face me, the back door will be open half an hour before opening time. We can't leave it like this."
The curate nodded in agreement and watched the only woman he had ever loved vacate the room.
"Assumpta, I lov-"he called out as she faced the front door.
"Peter, don't. I'll see you later." Her smile was sincere enough but the fact that it was still forced did nothing for Peter's self esteem.
The rest of the morning seemed to drag for the priest; he sat in the battered old armchair and fixated his glance on the bible which was resting peacefully on the arm. He couldn't pick it up, he didn't dare.
Half past eleven eventually rolled around, half an hour before Assumpta would be opening the bar. He knew he had no choice but to see her, seeing her was inevitable in such a small parish such as Ballyk and the longer he left it, the harder she would make things for him.
When he arrived, Assumpta greeted him with a more meaningful smile. She had changed out of last night's clothes and was now wearing a neat black skirt and red long-sleeved top, with small buttons running down the middle. Her hair was now free and sat on her shoulders in loose curls.
"Care for a drink?" She asked as she led him towards the kitchen.
"But you aren't open yet."
"I meant a hot drink, tea, coffee, that kind of drink."
"Right, of course, tea would be great," he laughed nervously.
"Well, aren't you going to sit down?"
"Sorry," he said pulling out a wooden chair.
Assumpta handed him the hot beverage and sat down opposite him.
There was a short silence as the pair exchanged awkward glances.
"Where do we start?" he finally mustered, dropping his gaze onto the tea.
"I don't know, Peter. We can't just pretend it never happened."
"I thought that would be ideal for you, what with Leo and everything."
"Oh, would you stop going on about Leo! This has nothing to do with him, this is about you and I and your stubbornness." Assumpta snapped letting her head fall the table in sheer frustration.
"My stubbornness?!" He replied, finally allowing his anger to seep out.
"Yes your stubbornness regarding having your cake and eating it."
"You are going to have to explain that one," Peter said sputtering on his hot drink.
"The clergy and I. You want us both and you can't, you will have to choose eventually."
"But I can't have you." Hearing his words out loud, made Peter feel vulnerable, his heart couldn't cope with being crushed into even more small pieces.
"I thought I made it clear not to bring Leo into this!"
"It isn't about Leo; it isn't even about the church. It about you, how do I know how you really feel, you never let me in, not properly." His confession affected his vision; this time he allowed the tears to fill his eyes. That way he didn't have to see her.
"I do try, Peter. And anyway you have never told me how you feel, not really." Her defence mechanism began to kick in once more.
"Assumpta, I told you I loved you this morning."
"No you didn't, not properly."
"Because you didn't let me finish!"
"Oh so is that how it is going to be, I tell you what to do? How to think? I know you are part of the church but I thought even you had an ounce of freewill about you." She stood up and drained the mug of tea she never touched. Assumpta couldn't bear to look at him.
"I didn't finish because I thought it was upsetting you, Assumpta the thought of you hurting, because of me, kills me." Peter moved towards her and placed an affectionate hand on her shoulder. He placed the second on her free shoulder and slowly let them wander down the outline of her arms. She didn't tell him to stop. Instead she bit hard on her bottom lip and closed her eyes, allowing the tears to escape captivity. She wasn't yet brave enough to cry in front of him.
As Peter's hands reached her waist, she took them and wrapped them around her midriff. Assumpta cocked her neck slightly to the right, inviting Peter to brush her hair to one side and touch her soft, bare skin with his lips.
She moaned with pleasure as his hands moved back up her body, underneath her top. All of their inhibitions were ignored once Assumpta finally had the nerve to face Peter. At that moment in time she wasn't the harsh Assumpta Fitzgerald who was struggling to make a living. Nor was Peter, Father Clifford, catholic priest. It didn't matter who they were, all that mattered, even if it was just for this small amount of time, was they were one.
"What are we going to do with you?" She smiled breathlessly between the deepest, most meaningful kisses she had ever tasted.
"Oh I don't know," he teased, lifting her up onto the counter. They were living on borrowed time and not just because it was so near to opening, Leo could come back and of course there were the repercussions this would have for Peter. Still, why worry about something that was still happening?
Their ever burning passion was interrupted when a familiar voice called: "Hello, shop."
The illicit couple looked at each other in shock before Assumpta let out a silent giggle.
"Yeah, be with you in a second, Padraig." She shouted out to the mechanic.
"How the hell did he get in?" Peter whispered, helping Assumpta do up her top.
"I must have forgotten to lock the door, when Leo stormed off early this morning," she said through gritted teeth.
"Well what I am supposed to do now?" Peter asked panicked.
"You can wipe the lipstick off your face for a start," she smiled cheekily.
"Sometime this side of Christmas would be nice, Assumpta." Added Brendan.
"Yeah, I said I would be right with you."Customers were the bane of her life at times.
"We can't go on like this," Peter whispered, taking her arm as she made her way toward the bar.
"I know, look, you better go out the way you came and later on we sit down and work out what our next move is going to be."
"I like the sound of that," he winked.
"Just get gone, Peter!"
"When do you propose we sort this out?"
"I don't know, soon." Assumpta said sealing her promise with a smile.