St. Patrick's Day Holiday Survival: Keep the Joy
Why
didn’t someone tell me it was St. Patrick’s Day? It’s important to be ready for
these things in advance. Had I known this significant holiday was approaching I
would’ve prepared. If someone had been kind enough to remind me I would have…would
have… Would’ve…?
I
glance down at the thin, green beer in my formerly frosted mug. I would’ve
drunk less wine at Nick’s last night.
That
way I wouldn’t have this cloud of guilt fogging my vision. Girls who are trying
to get their lives together shouldn’t drink too much three nights in a row. It’s
tricky enough business trying to see through one’s drunken haze without the
nuisance of an emotional cloud of guilt making things worse.
Come
to think of it, I’m not hearing so well either.
“Whaddya
say, Riana?”
Riana
arches across the tattered booth she, Nick and I have been using as our home
base for the past two hours. “It says here”—she stabs at the helpfully
informational, green flyer that was handed to us on the way in—“that there’s
going to be a limerick contest.”
A
contest.
I
twist my mouth thoughtfully, as if I can taste the question lurking there. “What’s
the prize?”
Her
eyebrows pull together as she positions the sheet closer to her face and peers
at me across the top of it. “Dinner for two. The Rooney McNamara special!”
I
try to ask, “Do you suppose that’s corned beef and cabbage or some other
traditional Irish dish?”
Unfortunately, what comes out sounds more like, “Dahya
sink thats cornbeefan cabbish?”
Before
Riana translates, Nick slides in next to me, bumps my shoulder with his and
grumbles, “Jukebox is broken.”
A
sappy grin tilts across my face as I grab his left arm. “I’m so glad you’re out
with us tonight, Nicky-boy.” I hold up my hand so my forefinger and thumb are
about an inch apart. “I might be a little sorry you lost the toss, seein’ as
you’re the only one of us who’s actually Irish. Or part Irish. Whatever.”
Riana
frowns and pats the arm I’m clinging to. “You ought to be getting drunk on this
nasty beer.”
“Clear
the air, girls. It’s starting to look like one of those weep fests.” He shakes
his head. “I guess I should be glad Josie isn’t here.”
I
shift to Riana. “Are you feeling all stupid and weepy?”
She
ignores my question and stabs at the air near Nick. “The contest! Nick! You
have to know a limerick!”
Looking
thoughtful, he takes a long drink of his Gatorade.
“I
know a limerick,” I mumble, half-hoping neither of them heard me and
half-hoping they’ll think I’m wonderful.
Creepy, slow moving puppets. Not at all a response I was hoping for.
Or one I’d even considered.
Please God,
don’t let them blink at the same time, because then I’ll have to scrabble over
the table and bolt for the door.
Oh,
relief. Nick is talking.
I
stare at him for a minute because his teeth really are so nice and straight. “Huh?”
He
waves his hand between Riana and him. “Tell us the limerick.”
Nice
hands, too. Why haven’t I ever noticed that before? “Limerick?”
“To
win the Irish dinners,” Riana says as if I’m some dolt who can’t remember bits
of conversation from one piece to the next. “The contest, Hayley.”
Oh yeah. I ask them, “Do we even want that cabbish?”
Nick
opens his mouth but the voice that comes out is cheerfully musical. I didn’t
know Nick could do an Irish accent.
Oh.
He can’t do an accent, it’s some round, little man wearing a green cap. He has
suspenders and lime green striped pants. It’s a leprechaun? Can’t be. Yet there
he is, right there in the front of the bar, standing on a tiny stage.
The
leprechaun keeps talking and it sounds great. The right thing to put a person in
the mood for a real old-world St. Patty’s Day. The crowd is so noisy, I can’t
really make out what the little guy is saying but it doesn’t matter. “Rolling
rolling jolly words.” He laughs and his world laughs with him. “More jolly
words, something else…limericks.”
Nick
shoots to his feet and does a weird saluting thing. There’s a warm round of
applause. What nice people to clap for my friend. Maybe they like his smile
too. And his arms. I bet they like his arms as much as I do. I peek at him from
the corners of my eyes. His back is nice too.
While
I’m giving him the once-over, Nick grabs my arm and rudely jerks me to my feet.
After I totter a bit, I turn to glare at him but notice that everyone in the
room is staring at me. Expectantly.
Actually, I have to admit, I feel their
expectation more than see it, because mostly their faces are obscured by that
damn guilt cloud.
The
next thing I know, the nice leprechaun is taking my hand and leading me through
the tables crammed with muddy brown and bright green people. He squares me in
front of a microphone and nods.
Silence
greets me.
I
blink, puppet-like, and frighten myself as my head pivots stiffly above my
neck.
A
shout comes from my table.
“Say
the limerick, Hayley.”
What
would I do without Nick? I understand now. I’m trying to win some cornbeffan
cabbish.
Public speaking is not in my comfort zone, that’s for damn sure. I hate it, as a matter of fact. So being at the microphone is a good thing. Right?
~~~~~
About Unfinished Business:
She ran away from the town that wouldn’t forget, to a city that doesn’t forgive, right into the arms of the guy who insists she set things right.
Less than a year ago, Hayley Jones made a scandalous decision that sent her packing. She left her country hometown, moved to the city and made a new life for herself. But it’s hard being someone else when the real you has some unfinished business.
Hayley knows taking care of the unresolved piece of her past could stir up more trouble and humiliation, so she dodges the truth and puts her energy into her new friends and job. That strategy works for a short while but people from her past start showing up in her present.
Life gets even more complicated when she realizes she’s falling for Nick Noel, a guy who knows she’s running from something, and continually challenges her to be herself. But Hayley is afraid of what will happen if Nick finds out who she really is and what she did back home.
Get your copy of Unfinished Business from Amazon, Barnes and Noble, and direct from Totally Entwined.
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