Page 106 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“Jesus, she can dance,” Brady said, clapping him on the back. “You’re the luckiest man in the world, Fitzgerald.”
Yeah, he surely was. He put his fingers to his lips and gave an ear-splitting whistle. The crowd started to clap, and Bets, ever the leader, started to kick her legs like a Vegas showgirl. The other Lucky Charms joined in, and Angie missed a few beats, laughing.
God, she was beautiful. Her hair was bouncing around her shoulders. Her eyes were lit up like a sunburst. She lifted her leg in a kick.
Then she was falling backward, flailing her arms in the air.
He shot out of his chair.“Angie!”
Gavin dropped the Guinness he was pulling, but not soon enough. Angie fell and disappeared from sight.
Carrick rushed forward as the Lucky Charms jumped off the bar to where she’d fallen.
“Get out of my way,” he yelled, pushing people aside to reach her.
When he reached the bar and hopped onto it, he saw her lying on the floor, still as death. Her head was bleeding.
“Call an ambulance!” Bets shouted.
“Calling,” Nicola said, pressing a phone to her ear.
Carrick crawled over the bar, crouching next to Angie as Gavin made room for him.
“I’m sorry,” the older man said, his expression stricken. “I couldn’t get to her.”
Carrick touched her face and found it cold. Watched a drop of blood drip down from her temple to her cheek. Bets dabbed at it with her shirt.
“Angie,” he said, pain stabbing his heart. “Mo ghrá.”
She didn’t move. Didn’t wake.
She was dying.
Just like Sorcha.
He sank onto the ground and pulled her gently onto his lap.
“She’s stirring,” Bets announced. “Oh, thank God!”
Her eyes opened, her expression hazy. “My head hurts. And my arm.”
He clutched her to him gently, gazing straight ahead. She went lax in his arms again, stealing his hope.
“Best not to move her, Carrick,” Bets said, taking her away from him carefully and laying her back on the cold cement floor. “Gavin, I need a blanket.”
“Right,” the man said, pushing up and disappearing.
As Carrick stared down at her, the pain in his chest went dark, replaced by a familiar numbness.
Taking her hand, he willed her to open her eyes again, but she was still unconscious when the ambulance arrived. He stepped back as they came in, assessing her and then lifting her onto the stretcher. They strapped her in.
She still didn’t move.
Someone put a firm hand on his shoulder. “She’ll be okay, Carrick.”
His dad’s voice.
A soft hand cupped his waist.
