one of their songs and twined it with his rich baritone. He started singing the Irish tune “Whiskey in the Jar,” which I hadn’t heard since I’d last been here. The rest of the pub regulars joined in as Colin passed by.
Aoife was singing softly under her breath as she watched her man and her children head for home. She blew a kiss in their direction, and Colin caught it with his free hand just before he slipped out the door.
Michael stopped by our booth with two shots of whiskey and two more pints. I glanced at Aoife in alarm. I wasn’t sure what to expect from the pretty Irishwoman, so I figured I’d best be blunt.
“Is this where you smash a glass and threaten to go for my throat for going after your man?” I asked. I hoped it sounded like I was kidding, because I was . . . mostly.
Aoife tossed her head back and laughed. “You Americans, you’re so dramatic. I have no ill will for you, Chelsea.”
“Even though I was having dinner with Colin?” I asked. “I mean, even I know it looked pretty bad.”
“I’m not a jealous woman,” Aoife said. “It’s such a wasted emotion. If Colin did me wrong, then he’s not the man I thought he was, and getting jealous certainly wouldn’t change that. I’d be the one feeling badly with the twisting snake in my belly, not him.”
“True enough.”
“Besides, despite his mischievous nature, my Colin is an altar boy all the way through, which is why he sent me the message inviting me to join you,” Aoife said. She seemed pleased by this. “He was happy to see you and may have even fancied a bit of a flirt to remember his youth, but if you’d made a play for him, he’d have run so far and fast, you’d not have been able to catch him.”
I laughed. I knew Aoife spoke the truth. That was one of the things I’d loved most about Colin. He was good and kind and loyal all the way down to his toes.
“I’ve no need to fight for what’s mine,” Aoife said. “He’s a steady man, and I’m grateful for it.”
“You seem very well suited and happy together,” I said. “I’m glad. He deserves a good wife and a happy life.”
“Thank you,” she said.
She raised her shot of whiskey, and I did the same. We clinked glasses and knocked back the shots. Mine burned a path down my throat, and my eyes smarted as I fought not to cough. Instead, I took a long swig of my beer to wash it down.
“That’ll cure what ails you,” Aoife said. “At least for the evening.”
“Or it’ll burn it right out of you,” I said. I studied my drinking companion. “When did you and Colin get together?”
“About a year after you left,” she said. “He pined for you for a long while.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I said. I shrugged. “I had to go.”
“No need to apologize to me,” Aoife said. “I wasn’t ready for him the summer I met him, but a year later I was, and because you hadn’t come back, so was he. I did wonder why you never returned. You seemed so happy on the farm.”
“I was, but I had committed to other jobs, and I knew it was likely my only chance to see the world, and I didn’t want to miss it. Then I was called home because . . . my mother was dying,” I said. “Everything changed for me after she passed.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Aoife said. She sounded like she genuinely meant it. She reached across the table and put her hand over mine. It comforted me, and I welcomed it. “That’s a crushing blow to lose a parent so young.”
I nodded. It had been a crusher.
Aoife wasn’t one for melancholy, however, and the next thing I knew, she had me up and out of the booth, dancing a reel. The four men were locals, but the other two women were tourists as hopelessly lost at dancing as I was, which made me feel immensely better. There were stubbed toes and people moving in the wrong direction, and occasionally the wrong partner was grabbed. Such as when Aoife grabbed me and danced me out and around the circle to much hilarity.
When the song was over, I was panting and gasping and felt a trickle of sweat run down the side of my face.
“I can’t breathe, in the best possible way,” I said, wheezing.