Forget-Me-Not Page 7

  “Well, I’m sure you’re successful,” I say. She’s a beautiful woman with a ton of spirit. I can’t imagine people not falling all over themselves to give her business.

  “I do okay. It helps that I live at home still. Remember, I’m saving up for the farm,” she says. I giggle. She doesn’t strike me as the farming type.

  “Really? I see you more as a cosmopolitan girl. Someone who needs the big city in order to thrive,” I say. She laughs.

  “I live in the city now and have most of my life. You can live ten kilometers outside of the city limits and it seems like you’ve been transported five hundred years back in time. I like the solitude and the privacy of a little bit of land.”

  “Huh.” She floors me with her plan. “So what kind of crops would you have on your farm?” I’m so proud of myself for not smiling during that delivery.

  “Barley and other things. I don’t want a big place, but just enough to keep me busy.”

  “You should come to Texas and see the farms we have. You could not pick two different places on earth,” I say. “Does it get very warm here?”

  “What’s warm to you?” she asks. I pull out my phone to convert my one hundred degree Fahrenheit days into Celsius.

  “Well, most of our summers are thirty seven degrees Celsius,” I say.

  “No! That can’t be right. Maybe when we have a very hot summer, we might hit thirty once or twice, but usually we stay around twenty,” she says. I quickly do the conversions and find that most of the summers here are in the upper sixties, lower seventies.

  “Do you ever swim?”

  “Of course. Maybe we are just used to the weather here. I would melt if I lived in Texas. What about the winters?” she asks. We spend the rest of the drive to the store and back discussing the weather. Texas winters are similar to Irish summers. Kerry parks and follows me into the shop. There are a few customers inside ordering flowers for an upcoming birthday party. She stops a moment to say hello to both patrons. I watch her interact with them. She’s extremely friendly and focused on them. I can tell she genuinely cares. This is why she’s successful at her job. Knowing that I’m staring and it’s starting to get awkward, I signal to her that I’m headed upstairs and she nods. She holds my gaze for just a fraction longer than normal and I feel a flush of warmth push through my veins. I need to curb this crush I’m developing. Morgan’s right. I need to find an available Irish girl, get my kiss, and get out of town.

  Chapter Seven

  “Wow. All of these bags are going to the charity store?” I’m just about done bagging up Nola’s clothes, leaving out the warm coats that I will donate to her church.

  “Have you changed your mind about helping me?” I ask.

  “No, but I will be right back,” she says, disappearing again. I move all the bags closer to the door and am surprised when Kerry returns with Conor. Without even asking, he scoops up several of the bags and heads down the stairs.

  “I could have done it,” I say. Kerry waves me off.

  “I know, but why when we have a young, strapping lad here who is more than willing to help us?” She does have a point. We make two trips down to Kerry’s car and The Irish Garden’s delivery van. Conor is taking over a load so that we can be done in a single drive to the charity store. “Now you can spend a little time for yourself and do some sightseeing things. You’ve been here a week and what do you know about Ireland? What have you seen other than three hours at the harbor here in town? The DART will only take you so far. Since you aren’t comfortable driving and since you don’t want me to drive you around, you should look into hiring a driver to take you around. Ireland is a beautiful place and I know you don’t take a lot of vacations. Go south and visit the Blarney Castle or go to the other side of Ireland and see the Cliffs of Moher.”

  “I feel guilty that you’re driving me around. I’m not your responsibility.” I want to tell her that I’m her client and I’m not really relaxed around her, but I keep my response short. “You have a job to do. Other clients need you. You don’t need to drive me around.” It doesn’t escape me that her phone keeps chiming. “I might take a bus tour to the other side. That sounds like fun.” I see her roll her eyes and bite her cheek to keep herself from getting upset. I smile knowing this is hard for her.

  “It’s not a problem for me. Today is Friday. How about you take pics of your aunt’s place and I will come by on Sunday, my official day off, to collect the photos and then we will go see a few castles. It’s supposed to be a nice, warm day. You have all of this camera equipment and nothing to take photos of.” She tsks like she’s scolding a child. I sigh.

  “Okay, but only if you have time,” I say. My mouth is dry at the thought of spending an entire day with her. I make a mental note to stay away from alcohol.

  “I’ll have my car back tomorrow, so it will be a more comfortable ride,” she says.

  “Luke needs to bill me. I haven’t seen anything on my card yet.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he will.” She pulls in front of The Irish Garden to let me out. “I’ll see you on Sunday. How about nine? I’ll pick you up at the Walsh. We can grab breakfast before we head out.”

  “I’m staying here the rest of my trip,” I say. Her eyes widen in surprise.

  “That’s a great idea. Okay, then, nine Sunday morning.”

  I nod and wave thanks for all of her help today.

  *

  Abram is not camera shy. He follows me to every room. I have deleted several photos already because his tail or his ear ends up in the shot. I’m not upset. It makes me laugh. He’s confused and can’t figure out why I’m climbing on chairs and couches so he has to billy goat his way right next to me. I scratch behind his ears and above his tail and smile as he purrs at me. I’m going to miss this little lovable guy. I slip on my boots and jacket so I can go outside and take photos of the front of the shop. I wait until the sun shines through the clouds and head across the street. This time I pay attention to the traffic both ways. After snapping several shots, I head back inside and boot up my computer to upload the photos. I’m pleased with them. I can’t imagine Kerry wanting different ones. I dig up a flash drive and copy them over, hoping she uses the majority of them.

  Conor has offered to help take my boxes to the post office so that I can get them out of the shop. I know filling out all of the paperwork is going to take forever so we head up there with all nine boxes.

  “I can pick you up in an hour if you need me to,” he says. “It’s no problem. I will get most of the deliveries done before noon.” I understand why my aunt hired him. He’s a sweet young man and a very hard worker. He’s the first to help out carrying things for us and others around. Today his usual moppy hair is tucked into a beanie type hat to keep him warm. There isn’t much heat in the van because of the flowers, but just enough to keep the chill away.

  “I’m sure by the time I’m done, the sun will be warm and my walk will be enjoyable. You go do what you need to. Just giving me a ride to the post office is so helpful.”

  “You won’t recognize where you are tomorrow. It’s supposed to be a warm day. The perfect Sunday. Different than today. If you don’t like the weather here in Ireland, wait a day,” he says, his crooked smile infectious. Yeah, everybody in the world says that about their weather, but I just smile back at him.

  I’m surprised that the post office is just up the street from the flower shop, so the drive lasts only a minute or two. Thankfully, no patrons are inside because I know I’m going to need a lot of time and attention. I assure Conor that I will be fine and shoo him away. I know he has to study this weekend and still has deliveries to make today. The clerks are friendly and help me with the forms. They speak of Aunt Nola fondly and again I am surprised at how many people knew her. It only takes me thirty minutes until I’m done with the boxes. It’s noon and I have the entire day and night to play. My aunt’s apartment is completely cleaned out and I feel a huge relief wash over me. I was premature in extending my trip, s
o I can at least play tourist now and head out to see some of this beautiful country. Conor told me of one to two day bus tours that will take me over to the other side of the island. Today I’ll load up my cameras and take the DART to Dublin. There is entirely too much to see and I’ve rushed both times I’ve been in the city. Today will be different. I will take my time and enjoy my afternoon.

  By the time the train gets me into the heart of Dublin, I’m hungry. I check out places around to eat on TripAdvisor.com and pick Darkey Kelly’s, a pub with excellent food and great atmosphere, according to the reviews. I’m more comfortable going into restaurants alone now and enter it without trepidation. I find a booth and a waitress zips over to me, menu in hand. I order a crab sandwich and a goat cheese with beetroot salad. Since it’s early in the day, I stick with beer and order an Irish Red. Instantly, I think of Kerry and her deep auburn hair. I want to see her hair completely down, the long waves framing her face and cascading down her back. Most of the time, it is pulled back with a ribbon, or some type of updo. I wonder what she is doing today. I wonder if she is thinking about me, too. Now that we’ve supposedly buried the hatchet and are cautiously approaching a friendship, I don’t feel as guilty thinking about her. I allow my thoughts to linger on her perfect skin, the way she tilts her head when she laughs, and how good she is with her family. I understand why she’s upset about all of this. I sigh and finish my beer. The waitress is quick to bring me another. She asks if I want dessert, but I want to check out a bakery down the street so I politely refuse and ask for the check instead.

  I head out and get lost in the Dublin crowd. Weekends in the city are very popular and since the weather has improved since this morning, a lot of people are out. I spend time at Trinity College and I get a glimpse of my first castle, Dublin Castle. I’m disappointed that it doesn’t look like a medieval castle, but snap a ton of pictures of it anyway. It is, after all, my first. I see a rainbow flag displayed outside of a bar and head over to check it out. A cute girl is standing by the door passing out flyers.

  “Come to the auction tonight,” she says, slipping a pink flyer into my hand.

  “What kind of auction is it?”

  “At eight tonight, several available bachelorettes in Dublin are going to be auctioned off for a date with the highest bidder. All proceeds go to the BeLonG To LGBT community in Dublin. This is the fifth year. It would be great to see you here later.”

  I nod and slip the flyer into my back pocket. This sounds like fun on all sorts of levels. It’s only four o’clock. I need to get back to my aunt’s, freshen up, eat something and then come back. I’ve done enough sightseeing for one day. The night is for relaxing. And women. Definitely women.

  *

  “So, ladies, remember this is for a good cause. I want to see a lot of euros up here on this stage!” The MC of the event, who also happens to be the owner of the bar, doesn’t need a microphone. Her voice booms over the loud crowd and I hear her before I see her. I have walked into a bar of Irish lesbians. The smile on my face couldn’t be any bigger.

  “Here. Compliments of the bar and me.” A shot of dark liquid is thrust into my hand, the deliverer half drunk and very cute. She’s about six inches from my face and I think she is going to kiss me, but she leans back, clinks her glass to mine, and shoots the liquid instead. Her eyes are closed, the smile on her face dreamy. I love happy drunk people. She waits until I finish my drink. “Carry on!” She dances away from me and heads back to her friends. I lick my lips, the spicy liquor strong and not unpleasant. I see an empty stool at the bar and make a beeline toward it. This will be my perch for the rest of the evening. I can see the stage from here and I have liquor within my reach. Not to mention I’m surrounded by beautiful women who are all in a good mood.

  “On the house.” The bartender, probably the only man here, slides another drink in front of me. He winks and disappears to help a waitress fill orders. If this keeps up, I won’t have to buy any drinks tonight. I turn my attention to the stage and watch as bachelorette number three is up for grabs. She’s cute and spunky with short, dark hair. The bidding starts at twenty euros and it’s up to one hundred in no time. I’m half tempted to join in the bidding, but my shyness wins out and I stay seated and watch instead. I don’t think I’ve ever had this much fun back home, especially by myself. Two women are in a bidding war and the crowd is going wild. I hope the rest of the bachelorettes get this much attention. I promise myself if they don’t, I will step in. That’s the whiskey talking. I can feel its warmth spread throughout my body. The tips of my fingers tingle, and my lips are very sensitive and feel warm. The bachelorette is sold for a whopping two hundred and twenty euros. The bar erupts with whistles, laughter, and applause.

  “We’ve set the bar, ladies. Let’s bring out bachelorette number four. A well-known attorney in Dublin whose hobbies include horseback riding, hiking, and women. Lots of women.” More whooping and hollering. I see a few women scowling so I figure this gorgeous woman on stage has broken a few hearts around here. I signal for another drink, something lighter, and anxiously await the bidding. Her number is already at two hundred euros and they aren’t slowing down.

  “C’mon, Kerry. How about you join in on the bidding since you won’t let us auction you off?” The MC interrupts the party when a group of three women enter the bar. The crowd, including myself, turns to look at the new patrons and I literally slide off my stool when I see Kerry, my Kerry, standing in the doorway, flanked by two gorgeous women. She pauses slightly when we make eye contact, and continues her trek through the crowd, heading right for me, waving off the MC in the process. I feel like a deer in headlights, nothing to do but watch as she struts right toward me. I blink at her in surprise when she is a few feet in front of me. I gulp down the rest of my fourth whiskey, slamming the empty glass a little bit harder than I intended. I blame my warbled perception.

  “Well, well, well. What a surprise,” I say. A smile spreads deliciously across her face and I fight the strong desire to press myself to her. Realizing I’m in her personal space, I casually lean back and try to hop back up onto the stool. My leather jacket that I’ve been sitting on slides me right off and not very gracefully. Before I plop down on the floor, Kerry grabs my arm and holds me up. I giggle.

  “Are you enjoying our fine whiskey?” she asks after helping me back onto the stool. Her fingers are warm and strong against my bare arm. I can feel chill bumps gathering under her grip. I gently pull away, pretending to right myself and needing both of my hands. I don’t want her to know she’s affecting me.

  “Hey, Kerry. We’ve got a table up front and left of the stage. Come find us when…” her friend pauses, not quite sure how to handle our interaction. “Umm…just come find us.” She nods at them and turns her attention back to me.

  “I see you found this place,” she says. She leans over me to order drinks for her friends. She smells cold like the outside even though I can feel her body heat radiating off of her. They must have walked here.

  “Who are your friends?” I ask. “They are very pretty.”

  “Well, what am I?” The Kerry in front of me is confident and smooth, slightly cocky. My crush just got bigger.

  “You’re beautiful. How did I not know about you?” She raises her eyebrow at me.

  “I look the same,” she says. I laugh. “How many drinks have you had tonight?” she asks. I smile. I think I even giggle again.

  “Tom, how many drinks have I had?” Tom is somewhere behind the bar. I don’t know if he hears me, but I see Kerry nod at someone behind me. I don’t care enough to turn around. “I don’t know. A cute girl gave me a drink when I first got here. And then Tom let me try different Irish whiskeys. I didn’t think I liked whiskey, but it is actually quite tasty.” I lick my lips and smack them, the numbness disturbing. I bite my bottom lip to feel something and am completely surprised when Kerry reaches out and runs her thumb on my lip. My whole body explodes with instant heat as my body responds to her touch.


  “Don’t. You don’t want to bleed.” Her voice is low and she is close enough for me to feel her breath on my face.

  “You know, when you whisper or talk low, you don’t sound so stiff. I’ve noticed the Irish always sound like they have important business even when they are talking about simple things like the weather.” She throws her head back and laughs.

  “That’s about right, Grace. Come. Join us up front. It’s more exciting.” She grabs her drinks and nods in the direction for me to follow.

  “It’s okay. I’m good here. Thank you though. I don’t want to move around much,” I say.

  “Order some greasy food. That will help,” she says. “Don’t overdo it on the whiskey, however good it might be.” She winks and leaves me. I’m bummed because I thought she would put up more of a fight to get me to hang with them. I watch her lithe form walk away and get swallowed up by the crowd.

  “Tom, I’m going to need something to drink,” I say. He slides a water in front of me. “Can I chase this with a Jameson?”

  “Yeah, Tom, give her a Jameson. My treat.” Bachelorette number three is in front of me. She spins my chair a bit so that my legs are trapped between hers. This night just got really interesting. I beg that Morgan’s confidence channels through me.

  “Aren’t you supposed to be on a date?” I ask. Her smile is beautiful.

  “An American! Even better. My date had to make a phone call. What brings you to Dublin?” I explain my situation in as few words as possible. She hands me my Jameson and clinks my glass. “Cheers to your aunt.” She follows that with a toast in Gaelic that I calmly sit and wait for her to finish because I don’t understand any of it. It sounds beautiful and her accent is crisp and pleasant. “So, are you staying nearby?” I’m sure that’s not a pick up line and she is genuinely interested in my business.