“How about a whiskey to get me through the opening song?” I scrunch my face up.
Pat laughs as he pours me two fingers’ worth of his best whiskey and slides it over to me. I thank him and begin to makemy way back to the table. The Seahawks have arranged themselves in front of the platform, but my eyes are on the guitarist standing center stage, tuning his guitar. He’s wearing an army green polo, stretched tight over his chest, and slightly distressed jeans. He gives Teagan and Ro a nod, and they begin playing a lively song that the crowd immediately starts clapping along to. Again, the singing is atrocious with Mac being the loudest of them all. Myra lets out a shrill whistle that only encourages him. I thought for sure that flame had already died out, but I guess I was wrong.
When the song finally ends and the cheers die down, I’m suddenly feeling nervous. The team heads back to their seats, leaving the Irish trio on stage. Eamon walks to the microphone, clears his throat, looks directly at me, and says, “This one goes out to a wee fire sprite who knows how to hold her Guinness.”
Laughter floats through the crowd, and my cheeks begin to burn as I slide down in my seat, attempting to hide from the faces looking in my direction. The girls don’t help matters by whipping their heads my way and gasping loudly.Oh god, please let the floor open up and swallow me whole.I breathe a sigh of relief when the song begins with Ro drawing a long note on the violin and everyone looks to the stage. Eamon begins strumming on the guitar, and Teagan, who abandoned the harmonica for a banjo, begins plucking the chords. The introduction is short, and then Eamon closes his eyes and he begins singing in a warm, clear voice.
“In Dublin Town there lived a girl,
Fairer than the flower I’m wearin’
Rose Donoghue - all fresh and new
And I love her past all carin’”
The rest of the pub and the people in it fade into the background as I focus on the lyrics. It’s not the first time I’ve heard him sing but knowing that he chose this song with me in mind has a lump forming in my throat. With his comment about holding my Guinness, I was expecting a drinking song, not alove song.
“Sweet seventeen, my seamstress queen
She’s no bigger than a thimble
Soft satin skin, street Arab’s grin
Sure she makes the work looks simple”
I feel Charlie reach over and gently squeeze my arm, but I don’t dare take my eyes off him. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. Apart from the fact that he’s singing a love song about a seamstress to a seamstress, he’s just so beautiful.
“And there she goes my Ringsend Rose
In God’s Garden there’s none rarer
And there she goes my Ringsend Rose
Dublin Town has seen none fairer.”
Eamon
I sing with my eyes closed, looking calm and collected on the outside, but on the inside, I’m a nervous wreck. I have no problem singing with a group or leading a pub song, but to get on stage and serenade a lass that I’ve only just met? I’ve lost my mind. At least Teagan and Ro agreed to play along. No one else would know “Ringsend Rose” except for Paddy.
When the song ends, I open my eyes, immediately seeking out Norah, but she’s no longer sitting at her table. I start to panic, thinking maybe it was too much and I scared her away. My eyes dart frantically over the crowd until I finally spot her leaning against the bar, holding two pints and smiling softly at me. It feels as if my heart has grown wings and is trying to fly out of my chest. Grinning, I mutter a thank you to the crowd, place my guitar on its stand, and jump off the stage. Every eye in the room follows me as I make my way to Norah. When I’m a foot away from her, I stop and she hands me a glass.
Christ, she’s gorgeous with her flushed cheeks and bright blue eyes looking up at me. Then she takes a step forward and asks, “How about that celebratory drink?”
Chapter Thirteen
Norah
In front of the main bay of windows at Paddy’s, there’s a small patio with bistro-style tables and chairs. Finding one directly beneath a light post, we sit, facing each other. I just stare at Eamon, for a moment, unable to put my thoughts into words.
He leans forward, placing his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together before saying “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”
I laugh softly. “It doesn’t take much to do that, but no apology is necessary. That was…amazing, Eamon. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“Stop thinking about you,” he blurts out.
Both of our eyes go wide as if neither of us can believe he just said that.
“Wow…That just came out, didn’t it?” he asks, reclining in his chair and rubbing a hand along the back of his neck. The way his bicepflexes with the movement is more distracting than it ought to be. He takes a deep breath and adds, “It’s true though. I’m sorry if that’s too forward of me, but I just wanted you to know.”
