The Replacement Bridesmaid

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The Replacement Bridesmaid Page 5

by Laurie Ralston


  She looked back up the aisle to see how the line was moving and saw James from the airport. He was smiling at her and gave a little wave. She smiled back, returning his wave. He was a very cute man, sandy brown and wavy hair, a little long but still nice. Those deep blue eyes. Tall. Very nice.

  Finally the line began to move and she saw James move into the aisle and soon he disappeared from sight. Oh well, she thought. Easy come, easy go. She moved into the aisle when it was her turn and was relieved to be in the jet way finally.

  It was an international flight, but because it was a flight from the U.S., the passengers were permitted to go through a streamlined process when they reached Dublin. Jill was through Customs in less than twenty minutes. She followed the others to the baggage return and was waiting and looking for her bag when she felt a hand on her shoulder.

  “Fancy meeting you here,” James said, grinning at Jill when she turned to look at him.

  “Hey! I thought you’d probably brought a carry on and would be out of here.” She grinned back.

  “Actually, I do have a carry on…”

  “So what are you doing down here?” She tilted her head in wonder.

  “Well, um, I…” He laughed. “I don’t have any interviews scheduled until tomorrow and I wanted to do a little sight-seeing. If you don’t have any plans, I’d love to have some company.”

  Jill hesitated.

  “But it’s okay if you don’t want to,” he offered, backing off a step.

  “No, no, I’d love to. I was just trying to remember what my schedule is… I didn’t arrange anything, so I couldn’t remember. Hang on,” she said, digging around in her bag. “Here it is, um… No, nothing today,” she confirmed, looking up from her travel papers at him.

  A huge grin graced his face. He had the look of an ex-jock, maybe a baseball player, that cuteness of a perpetual boyish face. She felt butterflies in the depths of her stomach. It was a feeling she had not felt for years.

  “I’m supposed to meet up with my friend’s sister in the morning. I was planning on doing some sightseeing, too, then check into my hotel and see how I’m feeling. Might need a nap by then,” she laughed, a little nervously.

  “Where are you staying?” he asked.

  Looking at her papers again, she answered, “The Georgian Hotel, in, um Dublin 4.” She looked back up at him. “I have no idea what that means, ‘Dublin 4’.”

  “Dublin is divided into sections to make it easier to find things.” He laughed. “Most places in Ireland don’t have actual addresses, so it’s sometimes very hard to find places. Best way to get where you want to go in Ireland is just to ask someone and then write down what they say, because it’s going to be something like, ‘go past O’Callahan’s pub, turn left at the blue cottage, go about 3 kilometers, turn right at the sheep farm, and it’s at the end of the road.’ It’s impossible! You mostly just have to get lucky.”

  They both were laughing when she spotted her bag. It was half buried under a gargantuan suitcase. She rushed to free it before it went by her on the baggage carousel, but it wouldn’t come free and she was being dragged along behind it, bumping to other people looking for their bags.

  “Excuse me, I’m sorry,” she apologized, grimacing.

  Suddenly James’ hand shot forward, tapping her lightly on the arm so she’d let go. His hand closed around the bag handle and he gave a yank on it. The bag easily came free.

  “My hero,” she laughed. “I would have had to chase it back into the baggage room.”

  Coming out of the airport into the crisp Irish air, Jill couldn’t help smiling. Here she was, little Jill Flanagan, in Ireland. That tug that she had always felt for Irish things – music, art – was now a tidal wave washing over her. She looked around. Even from here, she could see green everywhere. It was still cool in Ireland, down in the fifties, as it was only around 9 a.m., but the sky was clear and blue.

  James stopped at the curb.

  “Oh, do you have a car?”

  “Yes, I do!” She again rummaged around in her bag, pulling out sheaf of papers. Mary had rented a small car.

  “Great, because I didn’t,” James said. “I was going to hoof it and take taxi’s. All my interviews are here in Dublin, so I didn’t think I needed a car. But I’d love to skip the taxi, if you’d be so kind to give me a lift.”

  “Sure,” said Jill quickly, then had sudden second thoughts. What if he was an axe murderer? That whole story about being a journalist from the LA Times could be his cover story, designed to put unsuspecting women at ease before he hacked them into a million little pieces.

  She shook her head, clearing out those thoughts. That was Scott talking, she realized, assuming she was too gullible to know what was happening. She decided to trust her own instincts and led James off towards the rental car counter.

  After picking up the rental car, they drove to the area where both their hotels were. They arranged to meet in front of her hotel in an hour, giving each time to settle into their hotels and freshen up.

  Jill checked into the Georgian Hotel, following the bellman up to her room. The hotel was on Lower Baggot Street and was snuggly situated in between two other buildings. It was definitely older, but beautifully kept, mixing old with new. Her room was large, with a queen size bed covered by a dark blue duvet over a fluffy feather comforter. She thanked the bellman, trying to tip him.

  “No, ma’am, thank you,” he refused. Then he smiled at her confusion. “The Irish don’t tip like Americans. Except for in restaurants, tipping is not common.”

  Jill thanked him again, thinking to herself that she needed to make sure she left positive comments with the manager about the quality of service she might have while in the Georgian Hotel.

  After putting her hanging bag in the closet, Jill decided to change. It had been about fifteen hours since she left Phoenix and she was wearing the same clothes. She jumped into the small shower to rinse off and afterwards put on some clean jeans and a tight-fitting pale green t-shirt. She admired her reflection in the door mirror. Not bad. She really hadn’t looked at herself like this in a while. Scott never complimented her anymore, not even when they had dressed up to go to a benefit or firm dinner. She had to buy new clothes for the trip, not only because of the weather difference, but because she had lost some weight and her other clothes had become baggy. Looking at herself now, she was pleased. She’d had her straight medium brown hair trimmed to shoulder-length. She loved the way it swung around her head when she turned quickly. Although she was forty-four years old, she was often mistaken for thirty-something. Jill always laughed when this happened, and usually explained she was older than she looked. Stepping in to look at her face closely, she had to admit she did have some fine lines in her skin, but otherwise she was fresh-faced. Not bad, she thought to herself.

  Glancing at her watch, Jill saw it was almost time to meet James. Her stomach did a little flip, and smiling, she pulled on a white cashmere sweater. Time to see Dublin!

  James was waiting for her when she stepped out from the small ornate front door of the hotel. He flashed a wide smile at her, obviously liking what he saw. Again, Jill felt that flip in her stomach. She reminded herself that she was a married woman and that this was just a friendly sightseeing trip with a new friend. Looking at James again, oh-so-boyish-cute in his slightly baggy jeans, dark blue t-shirt, and worn caramel-colored leather jacket. His hair fluttered in the slight breeze and he stood at the curb waiting for her. Jill’s heart fluttered, too.

  “Where to first?” he asked as they headed up Lower Baggot Street.

  “I’d really like to see Trinity College and the Temple Bar area,” she said as she referred to one of her travel books. “How about you?”

  “Well, the Guinness Brewery, of course,” he grinned at her.

  They spent the morning wandering through Dublin and talking. He told her about his work and some of the bigger stories he’d covered over the years. She talked about her kids and about the wedding sh
e was attending. The conversation flowed easily between them, both laughing frequently.

  Finding their way to Trinity College, they turned up the walk, passing the statues of Edmund Burke, an Irish politician who supported the Americans in their independence from England, and Oliver Goldsmith, an Irish writer and physician, both of whom attended the college. As they passed through the main entrance, Jill could see an interesting structure on the other side of a large open area, which turned out to be Parliament Square. The structure was not a building exactly, but four arches set in a square, topped by another group of arches and dome, and then a smaller group of arches and a smaller dome. Jutting from the top dome was a cross.

  As she gazed up at the cross, Jill thought about the oldness of everything around her. You just didn’t get that in Phoenix, which in historical terms was very young, just a couple of centuries old. No, Ireland was an ancient world. Trinity College was founded in 1592, she read in her travel book. 1592.

  Jill turned to James, who, instead of looking at the wonderful buildings and green lawns spreading before them, was gazing at her. She quickly looked away. While she was thrilled that a man would be interested in her, and especially such a handsome and successful man as this man, she was married. She still wore her ring, she still was tied to the vows she made over 22 years before.

  “Let’s go see the Book of Kells,” she said, trying to get them moving again.

  They paid the entrance fee at the Old Library and followed the other visitors back to a dark room. On the walls around the room were large blown up photographs of pages from the Book of Kells. In the center of the room was a case, lit from within, with two ancient books. Each book was one of four volumes of the Book of Kells, an ornate hand-written manuscript of the four gospels in Latin. Jill leaned over the glass case to peer at one of the books. Each word, each letter was penned by hand, scrolled lettering in black, gold, red and green. Tiny details caught her attention; small faces, birds, animals, and plants. It was beautiful and amazing.

  They didn’t speak until they left the Book of Kells room.

  “Wow,” James said.

  “Yeah, wow,” Jill echoed. She could tell he was affected as she was.

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “I want to see the rest of the Old Library.”

  They proceeded into the Long Room of the Old Library, marveling at the 210-foot long room with its high-barreled ceiling, the antiquated books, and the marble busts of Irish scholars and writers, such as Jonathan Swift who wrote Gulliver’s Travels. Also in the room, they saw the oldest surviving Irish harp.

  “It says that this is the same harp that appears on the Irish coins,” Jill read from the display next to the harp.

  James dug a Euro coin out of his pocket and looked at it.

  “Yep,” he said, holding the coin up for Jill to see.

  Leaving Trinity College, they decided to have some lunch and found a pub with some outdoor seating across the street from St. Stephen’s Green, a large green city park. Jill wanted to try some Irish beer, but she was starting to feel a little jetlag, so she decided to wait until later and ordered tea instead. James ordered a Guinness because, as he told Jill, “When in Ireland, do as the Irish.”

  “So, who are you interviewing for your story?” Jill asked James after their food had arrived.

  “First, I’m going to talk to the Labour Minister. He’s trying to work a deal with the U.S. The U.S. would legalize the thousands of Irish in America in exchange for more work permits for U.S. citizens to work in Ireland.” James said, pausing to take a long drink from his tall pint glass. “Believe it or not, while in the eighties all the Irish were leaving for America to work in the high-tech sector, Ireland is luring Americans to the burgeoning high-tech scene here.”

  Jill leaned forward in her seat, listening earnestly while eating her lunch. At one point, James stopped talking about his story and touched her left hand briefly, which was lightly grasping her tea glass.

  “You’re married,” he said, not accusingly, just a statement of fact. Jill took her hand off the glass and looked at her wedding ring, nearly having forgotten it was there.

  “Yeah, I am,” she said softly.

  “And yet here you are alone in a foreign country having dinner with a strange man. Do you mind if I ask why?”

  “You’re not so strange,” she said, laughing.

  James didn’t say anything, steadily looking at her.

  Jill sat back and tilted her head down. “No, I don’t mind you asking.” Then she looked up and smiled at James. “Would it be too much of a cliché to say my husband doesn’t understand me?”

  James laughed. “I love clichés. I’m a writer.”

  Jill laughed too. “The truth is that I’ve been married for over twenty-two years to my college sweetheart. I have two grown kids that don’t need me anymore. My husband – Scott – is a high-powered attorney and he works all the time. I’m bored out of my mind,” she said, sighing. “Of course, he thinks I should be elated to have such a life – nice house, nice car, nice clothes. I guess I could get a job, but we don’t need the money, so he thinks that’s a ridiculous idea.”

  “Do you still love him? James asked.

  “Wow, right to the point,” she said, laughing out loud. “Do I love him? Hmmm. I care about him, I want him to be okay, but do I love him? I just don’t know anymore.”

  Jill took a big drink of her tea. She was a bit stunned to hear herself question her feelings for Scott out loud. To a stranger. “Maybe I should have a beer…”

  “You want one?” James started looking around for the waitress.

  Jill broke out laughing. “No, no, not really. I just surprised the heck out of myself there.”

  She explained how she had left Phoenix without telling Scott, how she’d been leading this secret life for a couple of years, entertaining herself while learning new things. How she’d given everything up, not unwillingly, to have and raise her kids, but now found herself with nothing to do, nothing to keep her mind and body occupied.

  “So, what happens when you get back to Phoenix next week?” James asked.

  “I don’t know, I really don’t know,” she replied, looking into those big blue eyes of his.

  They decided a nap was in order, but that they’d meet back up for dinner. Jill was going to leave Dublin in the morning with Mary’s sister, Tara, who was flying in from New York. James left her at the door of the Georgian Hotel with a smile.

  Jill rode the elevator alone, looking at her reflection in the mirrors walls. What was she doing, hanging around with a man, a man who was not her husband? And what were these feelings she was having about James? She was flattered beyond words that he would show such interest in her. But what to do about it?

  She took off her shoes and sweater, laying down on the bed and pulling the thick cover over her. As she felt her eyelids get heavy, she decided she wasn’t going to over think this. Whatever happens happens. Jill drifted off to sleep thinking about James’ easy smile and lovely eyes.

  Chapter 8

  When Jill woke up an hour later, she felt a bit groggy but refreshed. Her room had darkened while she slept, so she clicked on the bedside lamp as she sat up. She stretched her arms above her head and to each side, feeling better than she had a few hours before.

  As she sat there, she noticed the phone on the nightstand. What time was it in Phoenix? It had to be around midmorning. What would Scott be doing? Would he be frantic about her leaving? No, knowing Scott, he’d gone off to the firm just like any other day. In fact, she remembered that he had a big case he was working on. Jill felt a small pang of guilt; she hoped she hadn’t distracted him from the case too much. It was funny that this is what she felt guilty about, not so much about hanging around another man.

  Oh! James! She had a dinner date with him. Maybe she shouldn’t call it a date. It was just dinner.

  Jill glanced at the clock again and saw there was about twenty minutes before she was to meet
him downstairs. She took a quick shower, not getting her hair wet, and quickly dressed in a pair of black slacks and a ruby red top. Red was a good color for Jill. Picking low black boots and a black cotton jacket, she pulled them on and was out the door.

  James was waiting downstairs as agreed. He looked even more handsome than before, this time in an emerald green turtleneck, charcoal slacks and wool sports coat. Very nice. They greeted each other and began to stroll down the street. They decided to go to the Temple Bar area, which was only a short walk. Temple Bar had long been one of Dublin’s best destinations for nightlife and now that Bono from U2 had purchased the hotel that contained the Temple Bar, it was even more popular. They found a nice classic Irish restaurant in the area, dark paneled wood and low lighting. Very romantic, thought Jill, who then winced. She had to stop thinking things like that.

  Dinner was Irish lamb stew for her and traditional fish and chips for him. They chatted about family and jobs and friends, laughing one moment, serious the next. Not for the first time, Jill thought about how easy it was to talk to this man and how she and Scott didn’t talk at all anymore and hadn’t for years.

  After dinner, they decided to act like typical tourists and they went to the Temple Bar. It was loud, full of people in their twenties drinking and laughing boisterously. Jill and James both had beers, a Guinness for him, a Smithwick’s for her. They enjoyed listening to the Irish accents all around them, and played a game for a while trying to identify whether certain people were Irish, American, or something else entirely. After a while, they decided to go somewhere a little quieter.

  Walking back towards the hotels, they found a small pub called O’Callahan’s. Entering the pub, it was hard not to notice the group of musicians gathered in one corner. They weren’t playing exactly; rather they were seemingly warming up or each playing something different or not playing at all in favor of gulping down a Guinness. Jill wondered if they had made a mistake coming into the pub, but James had a huge grin on his face and steered her to a small table not far from the musicians. He ordered some pints of beer and they sat back watching the musicians.

 

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