But they loved America and eagerly fought in her wars. During the Civil War they were fierce warriors, forming among other groups, the famous "Irish Brigade". A priest accompanied them and, before each battle, they would pray together before charging into battle--even against insurmountable odds. Their faith guided and protected them. They knew they were going to have a better life after death.
"Get yourself dressed up Jolene."
Patrick stood in the doorway of Jolene's room leaning against the door jam. She had only been there a day staying in the corner bedroom that was elegantly decorated in shades of blue. She had an amazing view of the breathtaking gardens and the rolling hills beyond sprinkled with sheep. It truly was a fairy tale setting.
Jolene stood up from the walnut writing desk that was older than her granddaddy, her heart thumping just as it always did when she saw Patrick. "Where are we going?"
"On a special carriage ride around the estate. I want to talk to you about something important."
He looked so serious, Jolene was suddenly afraid. Patrick only looked like that when he had something grave to tell her. "Is everything okay Patrick? I mean, are you going to tell me something bad?"
He smiled. "No sweetheart, we are going for a nice ride to see the flowers and drink a bit o' sparkling wine."
"In the middle of the day? This isn't Derby day."
Patrick chuckled, his eyes happy and shining into hers like a full moon on Derby day. "I'll leave you Little Red. You pick out something you really want to wear, something that makes you feel beautiful, yer put it on and come down the steps. I'll be waiting for you."
When he left, Jolene put on her pink silk dress with anticipation running her blood. She loved that dress. Patrick had bought it for her as a graduation dress. He knew she liked frilly things. She also put on the set of pearls he bought for her. Whenever she wore this dress, Patrick got this look in his eye with such heat. She knew he liked to see her in it. For some reason on this day it seemed the thing to do. With sparkling wine involved it had to be a special day.
Jolene checked herself in the mirror. Her hair had grown long. She pulled it back with a clip. The sun was quickly sinking behind the pond outside the back of the house into the green hills that reminded her so much of Kentucky.
Her heart accelerated around the moment. Her mother would tell her that the Celts always know when life is going to change. Maybe it was because she said the words out loud. Maybe it was because she claimed her heritage and so she felt royal from the inside out.
Now, looking in the mirror it was not so hard to hold her back up straight like she learned in school. She didn't look so out of place wearing the beautiful pink dress and pearls that the girl who lived at Aunt Paula's would never have seen, let alone wear. On the bed rested her mother's gold purse. Her mother said it was filled with dreams. One day Jolene would open it and find her dreams.
Jolene walked to the bed and picked up the gold purse. It was perfect on the outside. But on the inside, the fabric was worn and bore delicate holes, as if to ease the pain of age. She opened it wide.
Dreams of my mother come to me.
Little gold purse, bring my dreams to me.
Little gold purse, bring the dreams of my grandmother and her mother before.
Bring all of their dreams to me.
I will walk through life on those dreams, and care for them faithfully.
Little gold purse, bring my dreams to me.
Jolene tucked some tissue in the purse. Just like her mother always told her to do.
Always have a tissue. Just in case.
She closed the purse and tucked it under her arm. She took the steps two at a time.
"Jolene. What are yer doing running so fast down the steps when you are wearing a dress like that." Patrick trapped her in his laughing eyes that shined like blue topaz. He was dressed equally as elegant as she in a formal dove-gray pin stripped suit and crisp white shirt. His tie was unlike any she had seen in the United States and reminded her of a cravat. He looked like a handsome prince.
Or an Earl.
Jolene giggled and slowed her step to walk just like she had learned in finishing school. "You know I just can't help it sometimes."
When she reached the bottom of the steps still trapped in his eyes he took her hand and kissed it sending heat firing through her veins. "You look beautiful." He murmured against her hand sending another wave of heat through her limbs."
He looked at her with eyes of fire and tucked her hand on his arm and led her outside to a waiting open carriage. It was white, shiny and boasted Patrick's coat of arms. Two white horses stood on dancing feet impatient to get started. Baxter who stood next to the carriage wearing a black suit waved and smiled. Patrick passed pleasantries with Baxter then assisted her into the plush carriage.
"It is beautiful Patrick."
"It has been in my family for a very long time."
Jolene was living a beautiful dream as Patrick followed her up the small steps and helped her into the seat. He took his seat unusually close to her and put his arm around her pulling her against in a way that he had never done before and that made her heart still, then accelerate like a speeding jack rabbit.
The weather was cool even though the sun was shining bright in the sky and illuminating all the flowers that were arranged carefully on the perfectly manicured lawn. The gardens at Killruddery House were regarded, according to Patrick, as the finest French Classical gardens in the country.
When the driver stepped up to his seat and the carriage lurched forward Jolene could no longer avoid Patrick's glowing eyes and the heat of his skin that soaked through her clothing and sent a hot blush across her skin.
As they rode, the breeze teased and lifted her curly locks and one curl fell on Patrick's shoulder.
Patrick smiled down into her eyes. "Jolene, did I tell you yet how beautiful you look?"
Jolene shifted under his gaze with prickly heat spreading from her limbs to her face. "Patrick, you never talked to me like that before."
He tilted his head. "Haven't I?"
"Certainly not. Are you feeling alright?"
Patrick laughed softly and looked in front of him down the path that led between the long ponds and the gardens. "I would say I have never felt like this before, but I am certainly doing just fine."
A few minutes later, on a stomach filled with butterflies, a face filled with blushes, and shaking limbs, Jolene was assisted from the carriage by Patrick. Baxter provided a blanket shaking it out under a tree where there was already an ornate stone bench. He placed a big picnic basket on the blanket.
"I'll be off then." Baxter smiled big.
"You go on." Patrick laughed and clapped Baxter on the shoulder.
Baxter rode away with the beautiful prancing horses. In the distance the house and sunset reflected the long ponds.
Jolene was certain she had never seen anything more beautiful.
Oh yes…the pastures in Kentucky were lush and green to be sure and looked so much like these green rolling hills one might be confused if she didn't know where she was.
"Come and sit on the bench Jolene."
Patrick led her to the stone bench and brushed away the dust and Jolene sat down, her heart pounding. He poured sparkling wine from the basket into delicate glasses. His eyes were dark purple, like the morning glories that grew on the fence outside her family home. She had never seen just that shade of purple in anyone's eyes until Patrick.
Something was happening here.
She was living a moment from one of her books.
Only it was her…. not a heroine from a book. It was happening to Jolene who once lived in Aunt Paula's house...an old run-down white house with the rusted cars. It was the Jolene who went most summers in bare feet. And once used the word "ain't" and ate with her fingers.
Patrick sat down next to her and took her hand into his. His eyes were glowing earnest into hers. The wind blew the tree and a few leaves scattered around them. "Jole
ne you must know that I asked you to get dressed up and come out with me like this for a reason." He was caressing her hand in gentle strokes that set her on fire.
Jolene's heart beat like a humming bird's wings. "I do know there is a reason Patrick. I just never saw you act like this."
He laughed softly and leaned forward. "That is because maybe you never saw me in love before."
Jolene's heart stopped. "Oh no! Are you going to tell me you have gotten engaged again?"
Patrick leaned closer still and pressed his lips gently to hers. Her legs turned to noodles. When he lifted his lips his eyes glowed hot blue into hers. "I am hoping to get engaged very soon."
"Then you should not be kissing me Patrick, that was terrible last time, even as much as I hated Leona that is no way to treat a girl."
"I can promise you Jolene I'll never look at another woman if the girl I want to marry will have me."
He slid from the bench and kneeled on one knee still holding her hand. He rubbed his fingers along her knuckles. "What I am asking you Jolene, is to marry me."
Jolene's world stopped all movement. Her breath halted and hung along with her heart. "You want to marry me?" She whispered the words aloud hoping to capture them and make them true in the sound.
His voice was low and soft. "Will you marry me Jolene McKnight?"
Surely this was a dream come true.
Jolene felt the blood rushing through her veins like a steep waterfall. Her heart swelled quickly, like it might burst. "Patrick, I have always loved you. I have imagined this moment a million times never believing it would ever come true."
Patrick pulled a small box out of his pocket and opened it toward her. There was a single diamond in the center with countless smaller dark emeralds surrounding the large sparkling center stone. "I bought this for you because I thought it matched yer eyes. I am hoping you'll accept it and agree to be mine."
Hot tears swelled in Jolene's eyes. "Of course I will Patrick, I have loved you always."
"Yer don't mind coming here sometimes to live for a spell? My Da is getting older and I have been away too much getting the farm going."
Jolene looked around her, her heart filling with awe. "Of course Patrick, I cannot think of a place I would like to come to more. But are you sure it is okay with your parents? I mean…that you marry me and everything? You know that I don't come from a good family."
Patrick gently tugged her hand closer and slipped the ring on her finger. "Jolene, you are a princess remember? You are American royalty and that means if you marry me you will finally be where you belong."
Jolene could not stop the tears filled with the dreams of her family that flowed down her cheeks.
Patrick folded her into his arms. "Now don't yer be a' crying…I'm only planning about five or six babes."
Jolene threw her arms around him and cried harder into his shoulder her dreams dropping around her like gold.
Patrick chuckled and hugged her close. "Alright maybe only three or four…and a couple of them need to be made out on the pasture in the rain…"
Jolene's sobs turned to giggles. "You really are crazy Patrick."
"I am crazy in love with you Jolene and I promise to make your life the best that it can be."
Their lips met sizzling hot. Patrick pulled her down to the blanket and deepened his kiss as he positioned himself over her. Jolene tugged on his coat, needing to feel his flesh. That one day in the rain had haunted her to the point of insanity and now that she had him in her arms the urgency to be with him again was nearly overwhelming.
When she tried to pull his coat off he abruptly sat up. "Now I'll not be tempted to make love to you out here on the lawn of my family estate...or anywhere before I marry you for that matter."
"Oh Patrick! We can go inside and do it."
He smoothed down the front of her dress and pulled her to sit next to him chuckling. "I'll not lie with you Jolene until you are my wife."
"That is so silly!"
"I don't want you going to the confession over me ever again."
Jolene laughed blinking back her tears.
Patrick grumbled through the pre-wedding requirement of waiting four months and going to the required classes. But Jolene refused to marry him any other way.
Patrick's sisters Mora and Geri became her sisters immediately. They were her maids of honor, and Shannon, Patrick's brother took to teasing her like any good brother would. He reminded her a lot of Flint.
They were married in St. Patrick's church in full royal fashion. There were nearly four thousand people in attendance. Juliana insisted on cutting the list to that "small" number. Most had to stand outside because the church could not hold them all.
Her dress had a train four feet long and a veil almost equal in length.
Bea and Lacy's parents flew the family over for the wedding and the girls were flower girls. Herbert and Bernie came too. Bernie who was glowing in the wake of winning in his age bracket in a charity marathon gave her away at the altar.
Mary Jane, Michael, Linda and Bobby, her husband, all came too and took a cruise after the wedding.
And on that day she became the princess her father always said she was. Their wedding was even in the newspapers across Europe and even a few in America.
They left for Paris after the elaborate reception.
Chapter 27
The days of "No Irish Need Apply" gave way. For The Irish, St.Patrick day parades replaced violent confrontations. The Irish not only won acceptance for their special day, but persuaded everyone else to become Irish on St.Patrick's Day. The Orangemen or New York City copied the St.Patty’s Day parade in 1870 and, as they marched they played "Boyne Water", "Derry" and other songs derogatory towards the Catholics. This resulted into fights breaking out and only the police (themselves mostly Irish) saved the Orangemen and women. The next year another Orange parade was scheduled but the police banned it.
The immigration of large numbers of Jews, Slavs and Italian immigrants led many Americans to consider the Irish more favorably. Their Americanization was now complete. Hostility shifted from the Irish to the new unfortunate nationalities. Through poverty and subhuman living conditions, the Irish tenaciously clung to each other and their faith. Because of their ingenuity for organization, their hard work and large hearts they were able to gain power and acceptance.
At the peak of the Potato Famine immigration, Orestes Brownson, a celebrated convert to Catholicism, stated: "Out of these narrow lanes, dirty streets, damp cellars, and suffocating garrets, will come forth some of the noblest sons of our country, whom she will delight to own and honor."
In little more than a century his prophecy came to pass. Irish-Americans had evolved from the position of the despised and mistreated to the oval office.
Paris, France.
It rained very hard on their wedding night. Patrick took her to Maxim's and then to Le Meurice for dinner.
When they returned to the Hotel de Crillon their three bedroom suite was teaming with red roses, sparkling wine in ice buckets, and rain hitting hard against the windows and French doors that led out to a balcony that overlooked the city and held a perfect view of the Eiffel tower.
Jolene opened the French doors and the windy rain blew the gauzy curtains inside. The rain came hard. But there was no lightening or thunder. Just gentle rain dousing the city lights to a muted romance reflecting the beauty of the city.
Tears from Heaven. Happy tears from Heaven.
"Now come my lady-wife and lay with me now that we got everything correct with the Priest. He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. There he pushed her to the bed with loving whispers and naughty promises.
"Now that you belong to me, I bought you something at the lingerie store...I wanted to have you to put it on."
He went to the desk and picked up a white box and produced a black bustier and hose complete with the hooks and silk hose. His face and eyes were Patrick, but they had the shades of the demanding Earl of Meath that
she was only just beginning to know.
Jolene stared at the wispy satin and lace bustier sitting sexy in the box with blood rushing through her limbs and focusing in the apex of her thighs with sharp reference. "Come Jolene, do this for me now."
He asked in a low, velvet voice, but she heard his demand. It was his centuries old arrogance, bred into previous Earls she supposed. But now he was her husband...not the man who saved her...and maybe that was the transition.
The thought of wearing the garments sent heat surging through her and to assemble with aching want at the apex of her thighs.
With shaking fingers she took out the flimsy garments. "They are so lovely."
Patrick helped her into them while caressing her with dark murmurs of her beauty granted in his Irish lilt to lick over her flesh nearly driving her to hot madness. He connected the silky hose with a sensual touch that sent her to helpless quivering. Then he ran teasing fingers down the inside of her thighs with soft whispers.
When she was dressed he made her stand for his pleasure. His eyes grazed over her with heavy lidded heat while he walked slowly around her. Jolene tried to stand in her best posture even though her legs were quivering like leaves in a storm. She turned slightly into his view watching his blue-fire eyes touch her from head to toe.
He leaned close to her ear running scorching fingers up across her shoulders. "Do you have any idea how many times I have fantasized about you like this?"
Jolene felt all of the need, the countless nights of aching and imagining being with Patrick all congregating in her breasts and between her thighs.
"I've always loved you Jolene. So many countless nights I have remembered that day in the field."
"I've always loved you too Patrick. Even when I hated you."
She moved into his arms and kissed his chest taking in his heady scent. Natasha had told her lots of things...and she had learned lots of things on her new book reader. Patrick wrapped his hands in her hair and tugged her head back. His lips hit her mouth with hunger roving, then sucking in her lips. Jolene lost herself in his velvet heat.
Once Upon a Misty Bluegrass Hill Page 19