Page 9 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“Dad worked fast.” He laughed but she couldn’t disagree. “Her three closest friends round out what the village calls the Lucky Charms.”
“It’s a long story,” Betsy said with a laugh, “but in brief, I missed that silly cereal—it was my adult breakfast in the States—so my friends and I tried to make colored marshmallows—”
“And since Mum isn’t the best cook, they turned out a mushy mess,” Liam said, picking up the story. “So they went to the pub to console Mum. Only Dad came home and thought she’d made him some new-fangled American porridge and almost died from disgust when he tried it.”
Betsy put her hand over her mouth as she started laughing. “Bruce showed up at the pub with green dye around his mouth, looking for a pint to counter the taste and to tell me he was never eating my American porridge again. I ended up telling him the story in front of everyone at the pub, and it spread around the village. We became the Lucky Charms. You’ll meet Siobhan, Brigid, and Nicola soon. They’ve all signed up for your painting class.”
“Wonderful!” Angie said, clasping her hands together.
“Of course, there’s a bet in the village that Mum is going to talk you into teaching a class on nudes.” Liam elbowed her playfully for good measure.
This time Angie sputtered. “Ah… I’ve never taught one of those, but I’ve got plenty of stories from the one I took in college. Maybe I’ll tell you later.”
“He’s mostly kidding,” Betsy said, poking him back. “The village bets on everything, with Cormac O’Sullivan leading the charge. Oh, I’m running on like the Irish with my stories. Let’s get you a drink and—”
Bleating sheep sounded in the distance.
Betsy went on alert. “Not again!”
Liam held up his hands. “You might step inside, cousins. Mum is about to lose her… Ahem. Mind.”
She was already pulling out her cell phone to dial Donal. “Your sheep are out again and coming up my driveway, you eejit,” she said as soon as he answered.
“And a fine hello to you too, Bets. I’ve finished making my rounds, and I haven’t seen any missing.”
“Donal, you’d better be here stat.” She hung up and headed inside to grab her nine iron from the corner by the door.
When she came out, golf club in hand, her son grinned at her. “Mum, Angie looks to be fighting laughter.”
“Laugh all you want,” she said, “but you haven’t seen what sheep can do. They’re like walking lawn mowers that don’t have an off switch.”
“Isn’t it kinda bad to hit sheep with a golf club?” Megan asked, coming out of her funk.
“Oh, I don’t hit them. I wave it around like a stick, which all the farmers do around here to move them out. Plus, if they get too aggressive, I can poke them a little. The adults weigh a ton and are tough to move. Oh, hell, here they come.”
Liam put his arm on the doorframe as the sheep ran up their driveway, a column of wild-eyed bleating weed whackers, some with their young lambs. “Mum, you should just go inside. There’s too many of them.”
“Donal has never lied to me about his sheep being out,” she said, stepping into the yard and raising her club in the air. “This means war.”
The sheep in the front suddenly veered to the right, and she spotted the words on their coats.“Carrick!”
“His sheep never act like this,” Liam said, running up behind her.
She remembered her cousins mentioning they’d met some of Carrick’s on the road. “Maybe there’s a lunar eclipse or something. Oh, no! They’re going for my roses. Stop! You beasts!”
Angie appeared beside her with a seven iron, God bless her. “What can I do?”
“Come on,” Betsy said, grabbing her arm and pulling her toward the rose garden. “Station yourself behind the roses and make loud noises while waving your club in the air. We’ll try and hold them off. Liam, call Carrick!”
“On the phone, Mum,” Liam called from behind her. “He’s on his way with his brother.”
“At least he’s bringing in reserves!” Jamie wasn’t in sheep, but he was conversant. They’d need that. There had to be close to thirty of them. “Angie, brace yourself. They look sweet, but when you get between those fuzzy beasts and a meal, it’s life or death.”
Angie crouched like she was facing off against marauders coming to breach a castle, hands fisted around her club. “I’m too jet-lagged for life and death, Bets.”
“That’s when the sheep win. Don’t let them. All right, you beasts. Back! Back, I say!”
“You sound like the officers inTitanicwhen all hell broke loose with the passengers trying to get on boats.”
