by Diane Kelly
“If you see her, give me a call. Okay?” He took a pen from a cup on the counter, jotted down a number on the back of a business card, and held it out to me. “That’s my personal cell number.”
I took the card from him. “Will do.”
He turned to leave and was at the door when I stopped him.
“Just out of curiosity,” I said. “What’s the rent on the space next door?”
“Eighteen hundred a month. Two grand security deposit, plus first and last month’s rent due on signing.”
$5,600. Like the five grand for Blarney’s surgery, it might as well be a million.
Reinhardt cocked his head. “You interested?”
The space would make a perfect dance studio. The floor was a smooth parquet and the karate instructor two tenants back had installed good quality floor-to-ceiling mirrors. All that was needed were a few ballet bars and the space would be ready for dance classes. Well, ballet bars and students. With the rent, insurance, and high electricity costs of keeping hot dancers cool, it would take dozens of students, maybe even hundreds to reach a break-even point, let alone make a profit.
I sighed. “Am I interested? Yes. Able? No.” Not unless I won the lottery.
“Well, if things change, let me know.”
That was a big “if.” I’d been struggling for years, barely scraping by. Seemed as if things would never change for me. Was this my destiny? To grow old in this shop? Alone and lonely?
Was this really what God wanted for me?
***
Just after lunchtime, the bell on the front door tinkled. I looked up to find Brendan walking in, dressed in his black clerical garb, a dark symbol of the barrier between us. He might as well be wearing a chastity belt and a suit of armor. Part of me wanted to rip the clothes off him and tear them to shreds, break down the obstruction that separated us. But another part of me knew that if Brendan hadn’t found God, he wouldn’t be the person he was today, the honest, hard-working, compassionate man that stood before me. The man I adored and respected. The man I loved.
We eyed each other warily. Things had become awkward between us at the pub last night after we’d confessed our feelings. Neither of us knew what to do with that information. As I’d expected, laying our feelings bare only seemed to complicate things for us. I’d told Brendan I thought it might be best if I found another church to attend, if we stopped spending time together, avoided temptation. He’d responded by telling me I was one of the few positive things in his life right now, that he needed my friendship—needed me—now more than ever. And God knows, I needed him. Tammy was a great friend, the best a woman could ask for, but sometimes a woman needs a strong, manly shoulder to lean on. Tammy was always there to help with frozen drinks, mascara, and shotguns, but Brendan provided me a source of spiritual support no one else could. Without him holding me up, I’d likely fall to pieces.
Blarney raised his head from his bed and emitted a halfhearted growl as Seamus trotted in behind Brendan. The poor dog didn’t seem to have the energy for anything more strenuous today. He’d only sniffed his breakfast, refusing to eat any of the kibble, taking only a bite or two of the hot dogs I’d warmed up in the microwave. Late last night he’d stumbled down the back steps when I’d let him out. Fortunately, Riley slept like a rock and hadn’t heard my frantic cry or Blarney’s yelp of pain when he hit the concrete patio. I’d sat outside in the cold with the dog until his disorientation seemed to pass. Clearly, the tumor was growing.
“It’s okay, Blarney,” I said to the dog. He gave up on his feeble attempt to scare Seamus, stopped growling, and laid his head back on the bed. He closed his eyes and returned to his nap.
Now, for the Leprechaun. “Why the glum face, Seamus?” I asked.
“Look at this.” Before I knew what was happening, he’d turn around and dropped his pants. On his tiny rear were a pair of boy’s underpants, complete with cartoon pictures of SpongeBob SquarePants on them. “How am I supposed to look sexy in these?”
“Some girls like men with a sense of humor,” I offered.
Seamus raised one red brow. “Does Tammy?”
“You interested in Tammy?”
“Hell, yeah.” He yanked his pants back up. “She’s pretty, sexy, and above all, she wasn’t repulsed by me.”
“That’s always important in a relationship.”
Seamus came around the counter and began poking around in my toolbox.
“What’re you doing?”
“Checking out your tools. As long as I’m in town, I might as well help ye out.”
As much as I could use the help, I couldn’t afford to pay him. “Thanks for the offer, Seamus, but I can’t afford an assistant. Besides, it’s probably against the law for me to hire you unless you have a green card.”
He waved his hand and snorted. “I don’t need any money. Got all the gold a man could ever need. I enjoy working with shoes and it’ll give me something to do other than hang out with Father B here.” He hiked a thumb at Brendan.
“Okay, then. It’ll probably be violating some minimum wage law, but I’ll take my chances. There’s several pairs of shoes that need to be dyed, at least as many that need to be stretched, and four pairs that need new soles.”
He rubbed his palms together. “Point me at ‘em.”
I took Seamus to the back room. Brendan followed us as far as the door, stopping to lean against the jamb as I showed the little man around.
His gaze traveled the room. “You’ve tidied up in here.”
How did he know I’d recently organized my storeroom? “What do you mean?”
“Last time I was in here, the place was a mess.” He gestured around the shelves. “Cans and bottles all over the place. Bins full of junk.”
“When were you in here before?”
“Valentine’s Day,” he said. “I snuck in the back door with your gold when Father B brought you the flowers.”
He knew about the flowers? He’d been in the storeroom that day? My skin seemed to skitter across my bones. Even though I knew now he was harmless, the idea that he’d been mere feet away in my back room, unknown to me, was nonetheless unsettling.
He pointed up. “Didn’t you see the rainbow?”
My head snapped to look at Brendan. His brow furrowed as he eyed Seamus. He spoke slowly, tentatively, almost as if afraid to ask the question. “Did you say ‘rainbow?’”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
DREAM ON
Seamus nodded. “The rainbow appears any time the pot of gold is exposed. It’s a pain in the arse, really. Like having a sign above your head that says, ‘Here I am. Come rob me, I’m loaded.’”
Brendan cut his brown eyes to me and we exchanged looks of bewilderment. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked down in thought, as if trying to come up with an explanation. The most obvious explanation was that Seamus was full of crap, that he’d merely seen the odd-looking rainbow, too, and his warped mind had concocted this incredible story.
When Brendan looked up again, I discreetly let my eyes travel around the room and gave him an almost imperceptible shrug, communicating that I’d thoroughly cleaned the room since Seamus claimed to have brought the gold and found nothing. Surely if there were a pot of gold in this small space, it would be apparent.
“The gold’s right over there,” Seamus said. Apparently I hadn’t been as discreet as I’d thought. The little man gestured toward the far wall, next to the shelves. The only things there were the stack of flattened boxes and the carton of shoe polish.
“Well,” said Brendan. “Looks like a safe enough place to store a pot of gold.”
Seamus exhaled with apparent relief. “Good. Now that we’ve settled the matter of the gold, let’s get to work.”
I showed Seamus the workbench and the line-up of shoes waiting for service. I gestured to the mini-fridge. “There’s sodas and water in there if you get thirsty.”
“No Guinness?”
“I’ll put it on my grocery list.”
“Your father did the same when I worked for him.”
Here we go again. Just when I thought he’d gathered up his marbles he lost them again.
He plunked himself down on the stool and set right to work.
Brendan and I stepped back into the lobby.
“Guess what?” I said. “The yoga studio next door is in default. The space will probably be up for rent again soon.”
Brendan knew I’d had my eye on the space for years. The commandments forbade me from coveting my neighbor’s house, but if God had intended the rule to include commercial property, He should have said so, right? If only I could save up the seed money. Fat chance. I wasn’t even sure I could come up with the money for Blarney’s surgery. Despite my best efforts, I might not win the wet T-shirt contest, disadvantaged as I was by my A-cup breasts. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost. The contest was the only possibility that had presented itself. Too bad that kidney thing hadn’t worked out.
Brendan put a hand on each of my shoulders, his body heat penetrating the fabric of my top and making me yearn for full-body contact. He looked me in the eye. “Someday, Erin. Someday your dreams will all come true. I just know it.”
I smiled despite myself. All I had at that point was hope. If I gave up hope, I’d have nothing. So, at least for the moment, I’d hang on to the tiny remnant of optimism I still had.
Brendan’s hands slid from my shoulders and down my arms, leaving a warm trail behind them. He took my hands in his and raised them to his lips, though the soft touch couldn’t quite be called a kiss. “I’ll call you later. Okay?”
I nodded.
He released my hands and reached out to tuck that rebellious curl behind my ear. When his fingers brushed my cheek, that dull ache kicked in with a vengeance. I probably would’ve burst into yet another fresh round of frustrated tears then if Blarney hadn’t began to quiver and yelp.
“He’s having another seizure!” I ran to the dog, dropping to my knees beside his bed.
Brendan knelt beside me. He ran a strong hand down Blarney’s heaving side to reassure him. “It’ll be okay, boy. It’ll be okay.”
Blarney’s pupils dilated black and he struggled to get to his feet only to fall back onto the bed.
I put my arms around his chest and tried to hold him down so he wouldn’t hurt himself attempting to stand. “Lay down, boy. Lay down.”
Seamus poked his head out of the storeroom to see what was going on. When he noticed Blarney in a state of paroxysm, he rushed to our side. “Poor beastie. “What’s wrong with ‘im?”
“Brain tumor.”
“Aye. Nasty things, tumors.”
After a few seconds, the seizure subsided and Blarney lay with his eyes closed, softly panting.
I looked up at Brendan. “The seizures are coming more often. I’m not going to be able to hide Blarney’s condition from Riley much longer.”
Brendan looked down at Blarney. “I wish there was something I could do for you, boy.”
Seamus raised his brows and took a step closer. “Wish, ye say?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
WISH
“Is this what you want to spend your wish on?” Seamus asked. “Healing the dog?”
Brendan glanced first at Seamus, then at me, his expression skeptical but acquiescent. “It can’t hurt, can it?”
I shook my head. “At this point I’m willing to try anything.” Not that I actually thought it would work. I mean, believing Seamus was a Leprechaun with magic powers? I’d have to be absolutely crazy to think such a thing. Then again, Seamus had made the strapping tape on his wrists disappear. Of course he’d probably just hid the crumpled tape up his sleeve, but at the moment, I was so desperate to believe in anything that would make Blarney better I was willing to suspend my doubts.
“All righty then,” Seamus said. He sat down next to Blarney, crossing his legs in front of him. He put one hand on each side of Blarney’s head and felt around with his tiny fingertips. Blarney opened his eyes and looked innocently up at Seamus. “Here ‘tis,” Seamus said. “On the left side. Big sucker, too.”
The left side. That’s where Doctor Delgado had said the tumor was, where the CAT scan showed the tumor to be. How could Seamus know that? Just a lucky guess, I told myself. After all, he had a fifty-fifty chance of guessing correctly.
Seamus looked up at Brendan. “Sure this is what you want? ‘Cause once I cure him, that’s it. Your wish will be gone. If you have buyer’s remorse, it’s tough luck.”
Brendan looked at me, his eyes full of concern for the dog, for me. He turned to Seamus. “Yes. This is definitely what I want. This is how I want to spend my wish.”
“Sure you don’t want a Porsche? Or a Ferrari?”
Brendan shook his head.
“I could get you a date with Jennifer Garner, you know. Or one of those models from the Victoria’s Secret catalog.”
Anger flared through me at the suggestion of Brendan with another woman. “No!”
Seamus eyed me and chuckled. “Jealous?”
Brendan eyed me, too, but simply shook his head.
The little fairy was nothing if not persistent. “A boat then? Maybe a ski boat. Or a yacht with a crew. You could sail around the world.”
“For goodness sake!” Brendan snapped. “Cure the dog already!”
Brendan and I stood and stepped back to give Seamus space to work.
Seamus’s green eyes darted between Brendan and me and a sly smile spread across his face. “’Ere we go then.” Cupping Blarney’s head in his hands, he looked deep into Blarney’s big brown eyes. He whispered something to the dog, and Blarney slowly closed his eyes as if hypnotized. Seamus began chanting in Gaelic, something I didn’t understand.
I glanced at Brendan, my face a question mark. He raised his palms. He didn’t know what Seamus was saying either.
Seamus started in low and soft and slow, gradually increasing in pitch and volume and speed until he was virtually screaming his mantra. Surprisingly, Blarney kept his eyes closed through the entire ordeal, seemingly oblivious to the noise. Finally, Seamus let go of Blarney, issued one final, eerie shriek worthy of a banshee, and threw his hands in the air as if tossing the tumor away.
The room was dead silent for several seconds, the shriek echoing in our ears, Blarney lying stock still on his bed. Time seemed to have stopped, locking us all in place like statues. I think I even stopped breathing.
After a few seconds, Blarney’s eyes popped open and the dog looked up at the Leprechaun. Rruff!
“There ye go.” Seamus stood, brushing off the knees of his jeans. “He’s all better.”
I exhaled loudly, noting Brendan did the same. Did we actually believe that Seamus could heal the dog?
Blarney looked a bit dazed for a moment, then shook his head, jingling his tags. This time when he tried to stand he didn’t wobble, not even the tiniest bit. He walked over to me and emitted a demanding Arf! He nuzzled my hand, looking up at me expectantly.
I squatted down and Blarney licked my face. I was so happy I was tempted to lick his face back. For the first time in weeks, his eyes were bright and his energy seemed to have returned. He was acting like his old self again, like the dog he was before the tumor invaded his brain.
Could Blarney actually . . . ?
Did Seamus really . . . ?
Surely not. But . . .
I scratched Blarney behind the ears for a moment, then the dog turned and trotted over to Brendan. He sat at Brendan’s feet and looked up at the priest, extending his paw for a shake. Brendan bent down and obliged, then wrapped his arms around Blarney’s neck and gave the dog a hug. “Lookin’ good, boy.”
Lastly, Blarney turned to face Seamus. He bent down on one paw and ducked his head, as if bowing to Seamus. As if thanking the little man.
Seamus patted Blarney’s head. “You’re welcome.”
I was about to say something, but stopped myself. I wasn’t going to think too much about what h
ad just happened.
Sometimes you just need to believe in magic.
***
Brendan left to visit Stella Nagley. The woman was at the hospital recovering from a scheduled procedure to remove a large but benign colon polyp, her condition, in my lay opinion, the result of being so tight-assed. Although Stella’s procedure was done on an outpatient basis, she’d insisted on a visit from her priest. Brendan also planned to visit a couple of the congregants who’d recently moved into a local nursing home. No doubt Brendan would cheer them up some spiritual sustenance and his retelling of Seamus’ Irish drinking jokes. Of course Brendan would hold confession later today. Given that I was planning to shake my boobs for money next month, I should probably be the first in line. But, for now, I decided to carry the burden of this future sin with me a little longer. I could hardly admit my plans to myself. How could I admit my shameful intentions to a priest, let alone a priest I was in love with?
Brendan would be disappointed if he knew. No, worse than that. He’d be disgusted. Disillusioned. But until he’d stood in my shoes it would be unfair for him to judge me. I’d be dancing to pay for Blarney’s surgery, true, but I’d really be dancing for Riley. I’d do anything for my son. Brendan had never a child, never experienced that kind of all-consuming love, never had to choose between his child’s happiness and his personal values, never felt so . . . torn. He simply wouldn’t—couldn’t—understand. Right?
Seamus and I set to our tasks, sitting at opposite ends of the workbench. He whistled Irish folk tunes as he worked, and I sang along with the songs I recognized. Seamus refrained from commenting on my off-tune renditions, which meant he was either charitable or hard of hearing, or perhaps a little of both.
Despite the fact that he’d terrified me the week before, I actually found myself enjoying his company now. Having him here with me made me realize how truly lonely my days were. Normally I had no one to talk to other than the occasional customer or Blarney, and, sweet as the dog was, he wasn’t exactly the best conversationalist. Our communications tended to be one-sided. He was a good listener, though. With those big ears, how could he be anything but?