"Padraig! Hang on a minute!" yelled Peter uselessly at the distant figure of the Irishman. He broke into an undignified trot as he called again. This time Padraig stopped and turned and waited for the breathless Priest to reach him.

"What can I do for you Father?" he asked in some puzzlement.

"The parts..." Peter gasped for air.

"The parts?" said Padraig, not following.

"For Carmel's car. Why can't you get them?"

Padraig looked affronted. "I'm a busy man, and I've a boy to look after. I can't work miracles Father, that's your department."

"No I mean," Peter gesticulated with his hands to clear the air of the misunderstanding "where are they? Could we... I, that is,.. get them for you?".

"Oh no Father, I couldn't ask you to do that, that's far beyond the call of duty."

"Where, Padraig?"

"They were out of stock in Cilldargan and Wicklow, I'll have to have them couriered from Dublin."

"I'll get them for you right now if you'll give me the details."

Padraig could tell he meant it, but was puzzled. He gave Peter a quizzical look for a long moment.

"Right you are then." He scrabbled for a dog-eared scrap of paper in his coat pocket. "I have the details right here as it happens." He handed them over.

"Thanks." said Peter gratefully, flashing him a smile and turning to leave.

"Ahem. You're that desperate to get her out of town? Or is this all part of the Priestly service these days?"

"Oh err, just tending to the needs of my parishioners!" called Peter over his shoulder and left before Padraig could interrogate him further.

Padraig watched him go. Shook his head and then headed home.

3 Months earlier...

"What's all the mystery?"

He'd followed her into the kitchen at Fitzgerald's. She'd not asked him to come.

"It's not my place to tell you." Said Niamh, evasively, she hoped.

"I'm your priest. If you can't confide in me…" He was doing his usual thing, being everyone's best friend, trying to catch up on events now he was back in town. Niamh found his banter and his humorous smile hard to resist, especially as she was bursting to talk to someone about what Assumpta had done. She elected to tell him without really telling him, so she wouldn't be breaking a confidence, technically.

"You remember Assumpta's old boyfriend Leo from college?" she started.

"The reporter who came to cover the election? What about him?" Peter asked, more of his attention on Kieran wriggling in Niamh's arms, perhaps, than what she was saying.

"He got married."

"Oh, who to?"

She looked at him, waiting for the penny to drop.

And then it did, for him.

"Assumpta?" He managed to say, as jarring pain took hold of him. He felt nauseous and it was all he could do to keep from breaking down. He half-heard Niamh, unburdening herself to him, but wanted nothing more than to be alone with his tormented thoughts.

And that was when the penny dropped for her. In the moment of silence after she had spoken she looked at him again and really saw him. Not as a Priest but as an ordinary man. And in that moment it was as if his wounded soul was visible in his face. There was no hiding it. Niamh's revelation had broken his heart. She had done it almost carelessly, not really anticipating the effect of her words. But she should have. She'd known really, suspected anyway, that he loved Assumpta. It just hadn't seemed real until now, like the impossibility of his acting on it had rendered it less valid somehow.

And now she felt ashamed and she couldn't look at him any longer, it felt like intruding on his private grief. The upset she had felt at Assumpta's actions, marrying without warning, in England, depriving her of the chance to be bridesmaid, suddenly felt small and silly and maybe a bit petty in the face of Peter's despair. As he briefly excused himself and left, she cradled Kieran in her arms and kissed his head, grateful for everything she had.

3 Months later...

"He's not here." said Assumpta to the unwelcome form of Father Mac as he closed the door of Fitzgerald's behind himself.

"Whoever do you mean?" replied the priest, coming to a standstill in the centre of the room, feigning ignorance.

She glared at him. "And we're closed."

"That's quite all right." said the infuriating clergyman, "It's you I've come to talk to.".

This was not good news. Assumpta was silent, looking at him expectantly but without offering encouragement.

"I'm sure you know what I want to talk to you about. So I won't insult your intelligence by making small talk."

"Well that's a relief." The sarcasm escaped from her pursed lips.

"He's a good Priest."

Assumpta laughed. "I know that. I'm just surprised to hear that you do."

"Have you encouraged him to give up his vocation?"

"What?"

"Mrs McGarvey, if you care anything for this man and you have his best interests at heart, you must consider very carefully before you influence him in his decision and lead him to make a choice that you may one day both come to regret."

"How dare you?" Assumpta was fairly incandescent with rage by now. "How dare you come into my home and...and firstly, it's none of your damn business... and secondly, if you think for one moment that I would, or could, use my 'influence' to bring an end to Peter's clerical career, then you are sadly mistaken in me and in him!"

"Forgive me for saying so, Mrs McGarvey, but you are Mrs McGarvey, you're no more free to marry than he is. And, in spite of this, it seems to be his... fancy for you that is the main reason for his giving up a promising career and a genuinely deeply felt vocation. I am appealing to you and your better judgement, in the hope that you will do the right thing and let him come to a decision on his own and without reference to his expectations of a... scandalous relationship with you."

It was hard to imagine how Father MacAnally could have angered Assumpta more and on so many levels. At each turn of phrase, she was ready with a new barbed comment had the old priest paused for breath. But, in the end, she was left deflated, with one distinct impression foremost in her mind.

"He hasn't been to see you today has he?"

Father Mac confirmed it. "No he has not."

"You're too late. The decision's made, or so he told me last night. He made it all on his own I might add."

He shot a piercing look at her, seeming to divine the truth of her words, and, finding it there, it was as if a wave of acceptance washed over him until he slumped slightly in defeat.

"I see. Then I've been wasting my breath."

She nodded.

He let out a sigh. "Then for both your sakes, I hope it turns out to be the right one."

He looked at her, almost sadly, and for once his hardened outer shell seemed to fall away, revealing something more human beneath. He looked old and world weary. "I will do everything that's in my power to help him. But he was never one to take the easiest path was he?"

She shook her head slightly.

"I'll see myself out."