The Replacement Bridesmaid

by Laurie Ralston

  Coyle had put down quite of few pints of Guinness and was laughing and acting quite silly. He started the group singing Irish folksongs, walking around and throwing his arm around this person and then that one. He made his way around to where Jill was sitting and sat down next to her, putting his arm around her shoulders as he had done with a dozen others. Jill thrilled to his touch, but knew that he was just being friendly, as he had been with everyone else. So when he didn’t move his arm after a few minutes, she realized that he had no intention of moving again. He waived the barmaid over with his free hand and ordered up another round for the table. Then he took the arm that was draped over her shoulders, pulled him close to her and laid a big wet kiss on her lips, right in front of everyone.

  When he released her, Jill sat blinking in surprise. The others hooted and clapped at his brazen display of affection for her. Tara was laughing and clapping the hardest. Jill had been mistaken. Tara wasn’t upset about this as Jill thought she would be.

  Coyle grinned, but didn’t move his arm. Jill blushed, but she too was grinning. She lifted her pint of Smithwick’s to them.

  “Here’s to the great island of Ireland!” she cried.

  “Here, here,” they all said and clinked their glasses together, laughing at the funny American woman.

  They sang again, and this time Jill recognized the song from the CD she’d purchased when she and Tara had driven from Dublin to Killarney. At first everyone in the pub was singing the ballad, but one by one the voices fell away until it was only Jill singing. She didn’t notice at first and when she finally did, she hesitated for a moment. Looking at all the faces looking at her in anticipation, she grinned and went on with the song. When she was finished, they clapped and hooted, stomping their boots on the old wood floor.

  It was very late when they decided to call it a night. Being clearly inebriated, Jill nor Tara could drive, so Coyle called them a cab, then rode out to the hotel with the women.

  After getting out of the cab when they arrived at the hotel, Tara threw her arms around her cousin.

  “Tara, my girl, it’s been wonderful seeing you,” Coyle said, returning her embrace and squeezing hard.

  Tara sputtered, half laughing, half gasping for air.

  “Alright, alright, you big brute.” She wiggled loose, tiptoed up to peck him on his cheek and turned to head up the steps. “Come see me in L.A.”

  “I will, love,” he said, smiling broadly at her as she let herself into the hotel Then he faced Jill, who just stood there, not sure if she should just go on in. Coyle looked at her for a moment, then at the cab.

  “Stay here,” he said to Jill, turning to go back to the cab. He put his head down to talk to the driver, and then he straightened and walked back to Jill.

  “I guess this is goodbye, then,” he said. He took her hands and held them in his.

  “Yes, I guess so,” she said. Her throat closed up a little and she fought back the burn of the oncoming tears in her eyes.

  Coyle took her in his arms and hugged her tightly.

  “Jill,” he said, “I want you to know that this was a special time for me, meeting you. I know I have to let it all go, though. I know it,” he repeated, nodding as if he were trying to convince himself.

  She nodded against his chest, swallowing hard. It was best this way, she knew it, too, but it was still painful. This man had made her feel alive for the first time in years. Truly alive.

  They kissed, gently, sweetly. Then Coyle stepped back, releasing her.

  “Goodbye, Jilly,” he said, then opened the cab door, slid in and shut the door. Jill stood there, watching the cab slowly move away, until she could see it no longer. Turning towards the doors of the hotel, she swept away the tears that had escaped her eyes.

  In her room, she thought about calling Scott to talk to him about her arrival, but decided against it. He already had all the details and he wouldn’t want to repeat a conversation. Waste of time for him. So she called her son instead. It was about five o’clock Arizona time and she hoped Ryan would probably still be at his studio. She was in luck, finding him still there working on a painting.

  “Mom!” he exclaimed when he heard her say his name. “It’s good to hear from you. How was the wedding?”

  “It was wonderful, Ryan, just wonderful.” She told him about the wedding and the parties, leaving out the parts about Coyle. They chatted some more about where she’d gone before the wedding and what she’d visited. She told him about the waterfall and the incredible view from the top and the way it made her feel.

  “So you’re coming home tomorrow, huh? I bet Dad will be glad,” he said. “He must be getting tired of fast food by now.”

  “I need to talk to you about that,” she said. “I think you won’t be surprised, but…I’m going to leave your father when I get back.”

  Ryan was silent for a moment, then spoke.

  “Mom, I don’t blame you. He’s awful to you. I know that. I just want you to be happy.”

  “Thanks, sweetie.” He really was the best son in the world.

  “Does he know yet?”

  “No, I thought it better to tell him in person. No sense in whacking him out over the phone if I don’t have to.”

  “Makes sense.” Ryan went on, “Mom, if you need any help, moving furniture or whatever, I’m here for you.”

  “I know.”

  “What are you going to do, move out, have him move out?”

  “I’m not sure, really. I guess we’ll figure it out.”

  Jill slept fitfully, dreaming part of the time about Arizona and her life there, and the other about Ireland and the things she’d seen and experienced there. She dreamt about her kids, but in her dreams they were still little and needed her. She dreamt about the waterfall, which in her dreams was surrounded by daffodils. She dreamt about Scott, and Coyle, and even James. She dreamt about the turquoise blue sky of her home deserts and the endless green she’d seen from the hill of the Rock of Cashel. It was all mixed up in her mind.

  When the alarm buzzed in the morning, she smacked it off and slowly sat up in the bed, swinging her legs of the side. Gazing around the room, a gloom descended on her, her eyes tearing up.

  Her suitcase was packed, save for her pajamas and toiletries. She’d laid out her outfit for the day, a t-shirt, jeans and a light sweater. The clothes contrasted with the bridesmaid dress, which hung by itself in the open armoire. It was just as well she couldn’t take the dress with her. It was a reminder of her time with Coyle. It was going to be tough enough forgetting him without seeing that dress in her closet every day.

  She hopped off the bed and padded barefoot to the armoire. Reaching out to caress the soft lavender material, she wanted to cry. What the hell was she going to do when she got home?

  Jill sucked in a breath and walking slowly to the nightstand, picked up the phone. A brief conversation later, she’d arranged for the hotel to deliver the dress to Bridy’s house. Jill wrote a short note on the hotel stationary, thanking Bridy for everything, and pinned it to the dress, taking care not to damage the fabric.

  “There,” she said out loud. “That’s that.”

  Tara called for a cab to take them back to Killarney to pick up the rental car. It was very early, so they decided not to bother Bridy or her family and instead took directly off to Shannon. Jill looked sadly out the car window, hoping that someday she might be able to come back to this little town, come back to the Royal, come back to Ireland. Maybe even came back to Coyle. Wishful thinking, she knew. It was doubtful she’d ever see it again.

  They arrived in Shannon with plenty of time to spare. Jill and Tara had different flights, Tara’s going to Washington, D.C., where she was going to spend a few days with a college friend before returning to California. Her flight left first, so Jill sat with her at her gate. They talked and laughed about the wedding and the after party.

  “So,” Tara said, smiling slyly at Jill, “did something happen between you and Coyle?”

/>   Jill blushed, not knowing what to say.

  Tara laughed loudly. “I knew it!”

  Jill still didn’t speak, but she knew the smile on her face gave her completely away.

  “Come on, spill it!”

  “Okay, okay. Yes. Something happened,” Jill said, laughing despite the gloom that possessed her.

  “That’s it? That’s all you’re going to say?” Tara was incredulous.

  Jill rolled her eyes and started nodding her head in a vague way.

  “Jill!” Tara exclaimed, turning fully in her seat to face her friend.

  “Fine,” Jill said. “The night of the wedding, after the reception. He came back to my room.”

  “And?” Tara prompted.

  “And, well, you know,” Jill said, feeling like she was back in high school.

  Tara slapped Jill’s knee. “Alright!”

  Turning to face Tara, Jill asked, “You’re okay with this?”

  “Sure, why not? You’re terrific, he’s terrific. Makes perfect sense to me.”

  “Yeah, except I’m married,” Jill said, shifting back into her chair.

  Now it was Tara’s turn to act dubious. “Yeah, but for how long?”

  Jill nodded her head. “I’m going to tell Scott when I get home. I’m going ask him for a divorce.”

  “Good.” Tara said.

  “Yeah,” Jill said slowly, thinking about what she had just said.

  An announcement came over the sound system that Tara’s flight was boarding. The two of them hugged and promised to keep in touch. They’d become much better friends in the past few days and Jill hoped that they’d keep it that way. Tara gave Jill a little wave and was off down the jet way tunnel.

  Jill had about an hour before her flight to New Jersey left. She wished she could do what Tara was doing, but in New York instead. She’d been there once with Scott, but it was for a conference and he was in meetings all day, so she hadn’t gotten to do much sight-seeing. Oh well, she thought, I’ll just have to take my own trip to New York, maybe with Ryan or maybe Mary.

  As she sat there, she started thinking about what was waiting for her at home. Not much really. Scott, who, as he sounded on the phone, had not been affected much by her leaving except for not having any home-cooked meals. Her kids certainly wouldn’t be waiting either.

  Jill took her airline ticket out of her bag to confirm that she had the right gate. She did. She continued to look at the ticket and as she did so, she realized that the ticket was a totally unrestricted ticket. Meaning that she didn’t necessarily have to take this particular flight. Meaning that she didn’t have to take any flight for – she put on her reading glasses to peer at the ticket’s fine print – six months.

  A speaker crackled on and a young woman’s voice, with the most lovely Irish accent, informed the crowd that the flight to New Jersey was now loading the first group of passengers. Jill wasn’t in the first group, the first class and other special passengers, so she sat still, still looking at the ticket.

  She held it up in front of her face. She could hardly bear to think it, lest she be disappointed with herself.

  I don’t have to go today.

  Her heart raced at the thought. She didn’t, did she? Her kids did not need her, they weren’t even kids anymore. Her husband did not need her. He could hire a maid and a cook; lord knew he made enough money for it. She didn’t have a job to go back to and had not volunteered to head anything up for any of the charities for which she assisted. She had money. She really didn’t have to go back.

  Jill did not think, I don’t have to go home. Instead, the thought that kept racing through her mind was, I don’t have to go back. It didn’t feel like home anymore. This place, this emerald island, felt like home now.

  The speaker came to life again.

  “Boarding call for flight 993, bound for Newark, New Jersey, rows thirteen through twenty – now boarding.”

  She looked at her ticket again. Seat 16D. That was her call, but she didn’t move, she just kept staring at the ticket.

  The voice called for boarding two more times and then for a final time. Jill still didn’t move.

  When she did stand up, she shoved the ticket back in her bag.

  I don’t have to go back.

  Chapter 17

  Jill ran out of the terminal, bumping into people and apologizing. Once outside, she laughed out loud. The crisp Irish morning air made her feel alive. She laughed again and spun around. She wasn’t going back.

  Then it hit her. She wasn’t going back. Which meant she was staying. With nowhere to go. And no clothes. It was far too late to get her suitcase off the flight. She found a concrete bench and sat on it, at a loss. Good going, Jill. What are you going to do now?

  Jill watched the cars crawl by the terminal, the drivers searching for their pick-ups. Was there anyone she could call? Not quite panicked, she unzipped her purse and peered in. Thinking, she simply stared into her purse, not trying to move anything. And suddenly she saw it, as small peach colored slip of paper. Digging the paper out, she whooped when she saw Bridy’s phone number on it. She could call Bridy. She hurried back into the airport terminal and found a phone.

  “Hi, Bridy. It’s Jill Owens.”

  “Hello, Jill. I thought you’d be on a plane by now.”

  “Well, I was supposed to be.”

  “You missed your flight?” Bridy asked.

  “Not exactly.” Jill said. “I am – I decided to stay for a while to see more of Ireland.”

  “How long are you going to be staying?”

  “I don’t know. Do you know where I can stay for a few days until I can get a long-term hotel room or something?” Jill asked.

  “You’ll stay with us, of course, for as long as you need,” the woman chided her as if she were one of her own children. “We have extra rooms now that the kids are gone. Plenty of room.”

  Jill felt a rush of affection for her. “Thank you, Bridy! You are so kind – I really appreciate it, I truly do!”

  “Nothing to thank me for. Now, how are you getting back to Killarney?” Bridy asked.

  “Oh,” Jill said, looking around her. “I don’t know. I turned the rental car in.”

  “Alright. Stay where you are, I’ll send someone to come get you. It’ll be a little over an hour before anyone gets there, though. Where are you exactly?”

  Jill gave Bridy the location and thanked her profusely. She knew she had some time to kill, so she went back into the airport and found a shop that sold clothing. She had nothing but the clothes on her back, so she bought a couple of t-shirts and a zip-up sweatshirt. She knew it was all touristy stuff, but at least she’d have a clean shirt for tomorrow. She’d have to figure out what to do about underwear.

  Waiting on the bench outside, Jill thought what she’d done. Her typical reaction would have been to worry, beat herself up, and feel like an idiot. The feelings she used to get when she’d make big decisions of any kind without Scott’s input always felt like buyers remorse – that feeling that while she was doing it (buying a new coat, choosing a new paint color for the kitchen, whatever), it seemed like the best idea she’d ever had, but the moment the deal was done, she felt a little sickness in the pit of her stomach.

  This time, however, that sick feeling was nowhere to be found. She felt a little scared, maybe, but most of all eager to strike out on her own.

  She watched carefully for a car that might look like it might contain someone who looked like they were looking for someone. The drivers of the cars must have thought she was crazy the way she’d watch them closely until they’d drive on by.

  A small BMW pulled up to the curb right in front of her. Before she could react, the passenger window rolled down and there was Coyle, leaning over the passenger seat, waving at her.

  “Well, come on, then,” he called to her. “Get in!”

  Jill stood, grinning from ear to ear. She ran to the car with her shopping bags and hopped in.

  “Where’s
your luggage?” he asked.

  “Hmmm, probably somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.”

  Coyle laughed. “You are quite a woman, Jill Owens.”

  She laughed, too.

  “So, what are you going to do?” Coyle asked as he drove.

  “I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” Jill glance over at Coyle’s handsome profile, noticing he hadn’t shaved, his chin rough with stubble.

  “What about your husband? Did you tell him?”

  She shook her head. “No, he doesn’t know yet. He’s going to go through the roof when he finds out, though.”

  Coyle looked at her. “Bad temper?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Not physically, he’d never do that, but he beats me up verbally constantly.”

  “And you put up with that?”

  “I did. No more.” She turned to look at him. “I want to tell you something and I want to make sure that you understand this has nothing to do with you.”

  “Okay,” Coyle said.

  “Even before I made the decision to stay here, I was going to tell him I was going to file for a divorce.”

  Coyle nodded.

  “I was going to tell him when I got home. I’ve already told my son. He knows how his father is towards me and Ryan fully supports me. My daughter… she’s going to be a different story, but she’ll get over it.”

  “So you’re staying.”

  “Yep.”

  “For how long?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know.” She turned her face away from him now to look out at the fields of green and pools of yellow daffodils.

  It was about noon when they arrived back in Killarney, where Coyle dropped Jill off at his mother’s. Bridy hugged her in the doorway, then gave Coyle a little wave as he sped off.

  “Bridy, you are so kind to let me stay here,” Jill said as she followed the other woman into the kitchen and sliding into one of the chairs at the big oak table.