Page 79 of Twist of Fate
We were right here, yet all I could see was…her.
“Life is just full of surprises, isn’t it?” Deidre says as Ash glances over at me.
“Yes.” I swallow hard. “It is.”
* * *
I can’t count how many times I found myself smiling today.
This particular day on the Heritage Tour is often exhausting for me. There is a ton of traveling, numerous stops and people to keep track of, and when we finally make it to the new hotel, there’s an evening excursion we have to rush off to.
The pub dinner, along with the sheepdog demonstration, is one of the highest-rated excursions offered by O’Connell Tours. We take the whole group to a pub for supper, complete with traditional Irish music and dancing. The musicians performing are both entertaining and exceptionally talented. The dancers are captivating and graceful. It’s a great night all around.
We take a ferry to Dunloe—Aisling’s first time, apparently. I guess living in the middle of the US doesn’t offer many opportunities for such things. She takes in the whole experience with wide eyes and an excitement that has me grinning like a damn fool.
When she cracks a joke and tells me how “ferry excited” she is, I swear I see her mother misty-eyed, watching her daughter so happy. Over the past few days, Ash has truly come alive. Although we’ve only just met, I can clearly see the stark contrast from her bleak disposition just days earlier.
When we get to the hotel, Aisling is chatting with the couple from Minnesota about snow or winter—or something. I take a minute to pull her mam aside to tell her of an idea that’s been stirring in the back of my mind all day.
Her eyes go all mushy and soft when I finally get it all out. “Do it,” she nods adamantly.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to ruin her day. Or her night.” Or for her to be mad at me.
“No.” She shakes her head, looking at me in a way that makes me feel exposed. “It’s going to be great. She needs this, I promise.”
That was a couple of hours ago, and I’ve been stressing over it ever since. But since I already called in the favor, it’s too late to worry about it now.
I see Ash smiling at me from the long table across the pub. She and her mam are seated next to fucking Clint and his group of friends. No doubt they’re trying to load her up with bad jokes and football stats. It’s unfortunate, really, since everyone is seated randomly as they come in. I usually don’t join the group at this specific event. Because the pub is also open for regular business, there are a lot of other people here, and I don’t want to lose anyone. So, I usually plant my arse against the back wall and watch.
Tonight, though, depending on how things go, I might have to make a quick dash for the exit if Ash tries to take me out.
Not that I don’t necessarily deserve it. But I do have her mother’s blessing, so…
The musicians begin to arrive and set up, and I feel my stomach drop. Deidre catches my attention and gives me a wink.
Fucking hell, this was a bad idea.
Waiters squeeze past me, carrying steaming entrées and cold, frothy drinks. The crowd is noisy. Laughter fills the air.
When the guitarist, Tadhg, taps the mic, people start to quiet down and turn their heads toward the small stage. He quickly introduces himself, the two others beside him, and the dancers. The two girls wave, both locals in their late teens. As the music begins, a loud, lively tune, I notice how Aisling’s eyes focus on the dancers. She wears a wistful expression as she takes in their simple black dresses and curled hair. She observes as they put on their shoes and whisper in each other’s ears.
Everyone claps as the first song finishes, and Tadhg begins what he does best—entertaining. He captivates the audience by sharing the history of the instruments and the richness of Irish music. The crowd laughs, and as they prepare to start their second song, he introduces the dancers.
I can almost see Ash holding her breath.
One of the dancers is wearing ghillies, which look like black ballet shoes. The other dancer has on heavies, which—thanks to Riverdance—most people picture when they picture Irish dancers. They are heavy-soled and meant to make noise.
The girls dance in tandem, almost as if they’re competing, but it’s all in good fun. The crowd is captivated as the music follows each volley, back and forth, until they finally unite in one synchronized crescendo that leaves the audience on their feet.
When I turn to see Ash, I see nothing but reverence in her expression. There’s no sadness, no regret.
The ache in my chest lessens a bit at the sight.
It comes roaring back about five songs later when Tadhg leans into the mic and says, “We’ve got a surprise for you tonight.” His eyes find mine, and I nod. Here goes nothing. “O’Connell Tours is here tonight, and a little birdie told me someone in their group is a fantastic dancer.”
Everyone hoots and hollers, looking around to find the person in question—including Ash—until her eyes land on me. They widen, and she turns to the stage and then back to me.
“Aisling, are you in the audience?”
