Page 11 of Shamrocks & Second Chances

“Welcome, welcome.” A booming voice cuts through the night.

I groan inwardly as my cousin Fergus materializes at the edge of the stage in a shower of golden sparks. His red hair is even wilder than mine, and his green suit is adorned with shamrock patterns that actually grow and shrink as he moves.

“Seamus O’Connell, my favorite cousin.” Fergus spreads his arms wide, his smile too bright to be sincere. “And the lovely Bella Brewster? What a delightful surprise.”

“Fergus.” I keep my voice neutral. Noticing his gold vest, a trademark of another cousin’s business, I add, “I see you’ve taken over Finnigan’s Lucky Charms.”

Fergus preens, adjusting his emerald bow tie. “Someone had to step up when you abandoned your post.” He looks around. “This dance thing is strictly voluntary. Certain parties asked me to meet you here.”

Bella crosses her arms. “We’re looking for a clue. Lady Winifred sent us here.”

“A clue? Oh, my.” He arches his bushy red brows. “How exciting. Yes, I do have something for you both.” His eyes narrow with mischief. “First, there’s the small matter of participation.”

I step forward. “What kind of participation?”

He gestures grandly to the stage. “This is a dance floor, cousin. What do you think? Three dances and three challenges. Complete them successfully, and I’ll give you what you seek.”

“We don’t have time for games,” says Bella.

“It’s not a game, my dear.” Fergus winks at her. “It’s tradition. This stage is enchanted to reveal truths through movement. The clue you seek won’t materialize unless you dance for it.”

I glance at Bella, noting the tension in her shoulders. “Is this legitimate, Fergus? Or are you just toying with us?”

“Cross my heart.” Fergus makes the gesture dramatically. “The magic of this place requires payment in performance. Always has.”

A small bark draws our attention. Hecate trots up, materializing from wherever she’d been hiding. The tiny dog gives Fergus a suspicious look before sitting primly at Bella’s feet.

“Fine.” Bella sighs. “Three dances. Then we get our clue and leave.”

“Splendid.” Fergus snaps his fingers, and the stage lights shift to a soft blue. “First dance is The Waltz of Memories.”

I offer my hand to Bella, trying not to look too eager. “Shall we?”

She hesitates, then places her palm against mine. The contact sends a jolt through me—familiar yet new, like returning to a favorite place after a long absence. We step onto the stage, and the wood beneath our feet begins to glow. Soft music of a waltz with haunting undertones fills the air.

“The Waltz of Memories reveals what once was,” says Fergus, now seated on a conjured throne at the edge of the stage. “The floor will show you moments from your shared past. Dance well, and the memories will flow clearly.”

I place my hand at her waist, maintaining a respectful distance. Her gaze meets mine, and her eyes are guarded but not cold. “Ready?”

“Let’s get this over with,” she says with less bite in her words than before.

We begin to move, and the magic activates instantly. The wooden floor beneath us transforms, becoming transparent like glass, as images form beneath our feet. They’re memories playing out like living photographs.

Our first meeting was at this very stage. The memory appears of me approaching her with two glasses of enchanted cider, and her laugh as I introduced myself.

“You spilled that cider all over your shirt,” she says as we turn.

“Worth it to make you smile.”

The images shift as we dance.

Breakfast at Moonwake Café.

Bella teaching me how to properly steam milk.

Hiking through Whispering Woods, hand in hand.

Stargazing from the roof of my workshop, wrapped in blankets against the autumn chill.

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