The Replacement Bridesmaid

by Laurie Ralston

  “Hi,” Jill said simply.

  “I wanted to speak with you about Coyle,” Sharon said.

  “Before you go on,” Jill said, “I am probably not coming back to Ireland. My husband needs me here.”

  “Well,” the woman on the end of the line said, “That would be fine with me, but I don’t suppose it will do me any good anyway.”

  Jill heard the woman exhale heavily, like a heavy smoker.

  “Why do you say that?”

  Now a raspy sigh came across the line. “Isn’t it obvious? He’s loony about you. I don’t get it. You’re nothing special.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me,” Sharon hissed into the phone. “I never had to worry about him actually going through with the divorce before. I figured his old Catholic guilt would keep him from ever doing it and besides,” she paused and Jill heard her take long drag on a cigarette, “I didn’t think he’d ever get over me. You know how many times he’s chased me down?”

  “Okay,” Jill said slowly. “So why are you calling? To warn me off him?”

  “I wish.” Another breathy exhale. “No, I’m calling because I want to make sure I get what is due to me.”

  “What is due to you?”

  “Money. Money. That’s what’s due to me, you bollocks. I want to make sure I get my share of his big book thing he’s got going.”

  “You aren’t still in love with him?” Jill asked, the sight of Coyle and Sharon on the street flooding her memory.

  “Yeah, sure I am,” she said. “Coyle and I got married when we were but wee ones. For most of my life, Coyle has been sound, the one fella that I could lean on.”

  Great, thought Jill. Why was this woman insisting on telling her this? She didn’t need to hear how much Coyle loved Sharon.

  “Coyle turned into a dry shite in the past few years. Never going out, never dating any other birds. But, he was always there for me.” Sharon paused and Jill heard the sound of ice tinkling in a glass. “Until he met you, that is. He was about to get back with me, I think, until you came along and bajanxed it all.”

  Jill barely breathed.

  “Oh, he cares about me and probably always will. He’s in love alright, just not with me,” Sharon said, her voice breathy and soft and almost sweet, “with you.”

  Then she laughed wryly. “I knew it when I saw him last in Killarney. I had a problem and like always I ran to him. He was still nice and he still listened to me, but it was clear he was about as useful as tits on a bull. It gob smacked me, it did, and made me try a little harder to keep him in my little trap. I figured I could get him to go for a ride and then it would be all over. He’d be mine again.”

  Sharon paused, waiting to see if Jill would speak. When Jill did not, Sharon went on.

  “My ol’ man used to say it was easier just to fall back into old familiar roles than to take a chance on new, better ones.” Sharon sighed regretfully. She suddenly sounded beat instead of combative. “For me and Coyle, it’s always that way – I have a problem, I run to Coyle, and he helps me. He doesn’t have anything better to do and for me it’s uncomplicated. I knew he’d always be there. Until now.”

  “Yeah,” Jill said softly, “I understand.”

  And she did. Sharon could have been describing Jill and Scott. Oh, the dynamics were different, but the roles where there. She was the ditzy housewife and Scott was the strong all-knowing chief. It would be so easy to fall back into those roles.

  “So why’d you take off without saying anything to him?” Sharon asked and Jill detected a protective attitude rather that the snotty woman scorned one Sharon had only moments before.

  “I saw the two of you in Killarney down on High Street. I was in a shop and saw you standing on the sidewalk across the street. You were crying and he was comforting you. It seemed pretty clear that there was something between you,” Jill said, trying to keep the emotion out of her voice.

  “Oh,” Sharon said slowly. Again, the wry little laugh. “That was the day I knew the game was up. I pulled out all the stops and while he was still Coyle, still sweet and trying to be helpful, he didn’t fall into the pattern we’ve always do, where we end up back together for a while. That’s when I found out about you.”

  Now it was Jill’s turn to say, “Oh.” She felt foolish now, like a grade school girl who had seen her crush talk to another girl. “It just looked so…”

  Sharon laughed, louder this time. “I know what it probably looked like, but it was all me. Coyle held himself back. We ended up at a pub and he told me all about you. I could have lit him on fire that day.”

  Both women were silent for a few seconds, then Sharon said, “Listen, I just want my fair share. Then I’ll scram and stay out of his life – your lives.”

  “I honestly don’t know if I’m going back.”

  “Whatever. Just tell him if you see him.” Sharon abruptly hung up and Jill slowly lowed her cell phone and snapped it shut.

  What was she going to do now? She looked around the kitchen, her kitchen that she had carefully and lovingly put together, from the black enamel gas range to the tile on the floor. She thought about the house, the Baldwin piano she loved, the snapshots of the twins in soccer jerseys on the fireplace mantle, the hours of life she had lived in these rooms around her. It would be so easy to stay, to return to life as normal.

  Jill heard the door to the garage open and shut and moments later Scott was coming into the kitchen. He stopped when he saw her sitting at the table.

  “You okay?” he said, pulling out a chair across from Jill and sitting.

  “Sure,” she said. “How was it?”

  “Hard,” he said about his chore of cleaning out his mother’s house. “I swear the woman never threw out anything.”

  They laughed and Jill remembered how they used to laugh all the time. She looked at her husband, seeing him as the man she married so many years before instead of the tyrant he had become in the past few years.

  “Listen,” Scott said. “Things are different, I promise you, they are. I’m different. I… I just want you home.”

  Scott reached out and took her hands, which sat folded together on the table, into his.

  “Jill,” he said, searching her eyes with his, “I want you to be happy. So...”

  Jill looked at him with wide eyes, wondering where this was going. Had he changed? Had he realized what damage he’d done over the last few years?

  “If you want to get a job, it’s okay with me.”

  “What?” Jill stared at her husband.

  “A job. Get one and then you’ll be busy and happy. It’s obvious how much you’ve liked working in Ireland, you’re practically glowing. So, get a job here.” He slapped his hands down on his knees as if he’d just found the answer to everything.

  Jill blinked quickly, her eyes tearing up. “I don’t think you understand...”

  “Oh, I understand,” he said, standing up to open the refrigerator and peer in. “You’re bored. I get it. That’s why you had to take all those classes in piano and karate or whatever.” His head poked up over the refrigerator door. “So get a job.” His head disappeared again.

  Jill stared in disbelief. He really had no idea, did he? He thought this was all about her being bored, not about pursuing a dream.

  “I must admit, I’m a little jealous. It must have been fun hanging out with that band,” he said, as he pulled a package of sliced cheese out and unsealed the zip lock to peel off a slice. He smiled at her. “Not like you could do that forever, but wow!”

  The funny thing, Jill thought, was that he was being nice. He sincerely thought that he had the perfect answer to making her happy. It was hard to be angry at him.

  “That would be great,” she started as he began to nod at her, “if that’s what I wanted.”

  Scott stopped nodding, his smile fading from his face.

  “But it’s not what I want.” Jill patted the kitchen chair next to hers, inviting him to sit. Scott put the p
ackage of cheese on the counter, came over and sat down, his forehead creased.

  “It’s been so great being home, seeing Martie and Ryan, being back in this wonderful house. I’m so sad about your mother, I am, Scott, and I know it’s going to be hard on you for a while.” She placed her hand over his on the table and gave it a squeeze. “It would be so easy to stay, just go back to the ways things were –“

  “But, it doesn’t have to be the way it was. You can get a job,” Scott interrupted her.

  “It would be so easy,” she continued, ignoring his comment, “but it wouldn’t be right. It wouldn’t be good.”

  Scott pulled his hand out from under hers. “So, what? You’re going to go back to Ireland and be in a band?” he asked, his face twisting as he said “band” like it tasted bad. “You’re forty-six, Jill. It’s ridiculous.” He sat back in his chair and glared at her.

  “I haven’t decided if I’m going back yet, but I know that I can’t stay here. I can’t be married to you.” She moved the manila envelope containing the divorce papers from the far corner of the table where they had been sitting, sliding it until it was directly in front of him. “Divorce papers,” she said simply. “I want out.”

  “What?” He stared at the envelope on the table. “A divorce?” He spat the words out.

  “Yes, a divorce.”

  He stood up, slamming his chair against the counter. “Oh, I see now. You want money. Right?”

  “No –“ she started to say, but Scott went on talking.

  “Sure, money, take me for all I’m worth.” He was nodding his head, curling up his top lip. “Well, honey, I’m a lawyer. I may not be a divorce lawyer, but I know some. You won’t get a red cent when I’m done.” He crossed his arms, face hardened and angry.

  Jill tilted her head and considered him. He hadn’t changed, not one iota. She stood and picked up the manila envelope off the table.

  “I haven’t asked for anything. Read it,” she said, slamming it against his chest as she strode out the kitchen door.

  Chapter 28

  Jill stared at the ceiling of the guest room from where she lay on the bed. It really was a lovely room and rarely used. She had tossed around in the bed all night, dreaming of being on stage, mixed in with images of Scott’s heated expressions. Waking up was a relief, really.

  She swung her legs off the bed and sat there. Obviously, staying there wasn’t an option. Scott wouldn’t stand for it; besides, it was the last thing she wanted to do. Maybe she could call Mary, ask her if she could stay on her couch for a week or two. Then what? Jill didn’t know.

  The way she saw it, she had two choices. Stay in Phoenix or go back to Ireland. Staying in Phoenix would be the easiest thing. She knew the place, had friends. She supposed she could get a job now, as a waitress or bartender if nothing else. There was plenty left of the money her dad had left her.

  Or go back. It was complicated now that she’d come back. She’d have to get a new work permit or at least another visa. Not knowing the rules worried her. But the band sort of needed her, right? They’d have to cancel the rest of the tour after Collie couldn’t travel. Certainly after she had the baby, at least for a while. And there was Coyle. He was there.

  Jill covered her face with her hands, rubbing hard, and then dragged one hand back through her hair. She needed to do something, anything. This limbo was killing her and she knew she’d feel better if she took action. So she got dressed and headed downstairs.

  Scott was already gone, thankfully. The house was empty and quiet. Jill went to the garage and rummaged around, finding three good-sized boxes, which she took into the family room. She wandered around wondering what she was going to do with all the years of accumulation.

  Her cell phone rang from where it sat in her purse on the couch. Jill put down the box she’d been carrying around to dig in her purse for the phone.

  “Jilly!” Collie’s friendly Irish accent made Jill smile.

  “Collie, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Jill said.

  “How are you there?”

  “Hmm, I’m alright,” Jill said. “How’s the tour?”

  “It’s grand, but we need you!” Collie said. “I don’t want to pressure you. We’re playing Croke Park in Dublin in six days. It’s huge, Jill. Can you jump on a plane and get here by then?”

  So there it was. The necessity to make a decision was upon her. Jill looked at the stuff she’d put in the box. A family portrait from when the twins were teenagers, a small horse figurine that Ryan had given her for a birthday, a copy of Tess of the D’Urbervilles that she first read in college. She loved all these things and everything they represented. This house, this town, she really did love it all.

  But then Jill remembered how she felt on stage with Rogue Irish. She remembered the fear and exhilaration, her heart pounding and her head swimming until she actually opened her mouth and began to sing, and then that wave of serenity that washed over her. Jill loved that.

  “Jill?” Collie’s voice sounded far away.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” Jill said. “Give me a couple of days. I’ll be there.”

  It took some fancy finagling by Kevin to get Jill permission to continue working in Ireland. It helped, apparently, to be a famous musician. It also helped that the immigration officer assigned to Jill’s case was a huge Rogue Irish fan. It did indeed take a few days to work out, but Jill was able to meet the band in Dublin the day before the concert. They were staying in a Jury’s Inn across the street from Croke Park and Kevin was standing outside waiting for her as her taxi pulled up to the front doors.

  “Jilly,” Kevin said, throwing his arms open wide and engulfing her. He kissed her on the cheek and said, “Bugger, but we’ve missed you, lass.” He grabbed up her suitcases and swept her into the hotel. After stopping at the front desk to have her bags taken to her room, Kevin led her to the hotel bar. Tim, Dooley and Collie sprawled around a round table, pints in front of the men, a cup of tea cradled in Collie’s hands.

  To Jill, this felt like coming home. These people were her family now. Tim and his jazz piano tinkling, Dooley and his video games, Collie and her unworried attitude about the approaching date of her baby’s birth, Kevin and his paternal ways. She loved them all as much as she’d loved any friends. This life was her life.

  “Yo, Jill,” Dooley said, holding out his fist for Jill to bump. She did, but he surprised her by dragging her into a big hug. “I missed you,” he whispered in her ear, and then releasing her, he cleared his throat and waved at the waitress. “We need a pint of Smithwick’s over here for our girl Jill.”

  “Oh, Dooley,” Collie snickered, as she stepped into hug Jill. “How are you? Not too much jet lag, I hope.”

  A hug from Tim and then came the round of pints, except for Collie, of course, who was huge now, nearly eight months pregnant.

  “Collie is going to need a crane to get her up on the stage across the way,” Tim laughed, hugging her to him.

  “I think you look beautiful,” Jill said, smiling at her friend.

  “The doctor says I could go into labor any time now,” Collie said. “We still have two weeks of concerts left. We’re so glad you’re back.”

  “So am I,” Jill said, “So am I.”

  Collie held up her cup of hot tea and Jill tapped it gently with her glass of beer, her heart full of love and relief to be back among these people.

  Jill sat back, listening to Dooley and Tim passionately discuss other bands that had lost their lead singers, video games that were coming out and movies that they’d seen. It was obvious that the siblings were close, but competitive. Jill thought of Ryan and Martie, but this time, it wasn’t so much a feeling of missing them, just a warm shroud of proud falling over her.

  Kevin had heard enough.

  “How about we wander over to the stadium a little early?” He checked his watch. “We’re due for a sound check in less than an hour.” He gazed at his band mates, his bushy eyebrows raised.

  �
�Actually, that would be great,” Jill said. The realization that she would be playing to a full stadium in a day’s time still hadn’t fully come to her. She needed to see Croke Park to believe it. “I’d love to check it out.”

  “Gameball,” Dooley said. He picked up his half empty pint and tipped the remaining ale into his mouth, then stood up.

  Jill looked at Collie and mouthed “gameball?” Collie laughed.

  “Oh, I mean, alright,” Dooley said, grinning at Jill. “Let’s go.”

  The stadium loomed large on the narrow street as they stepped out of the hotel doors.

  “Wow,” Jill said, staring up at the huge edifice. It was not the most attractive place on the outside, but once they stepped inside Croke Park, Jill felt tingly all over.

  They walked out onto the field from the opposite site of the stage. Collie had her arm looped through Jill’s, as the men ambled on ahead of them. They made their way across area that doubled as a soccer field and found the set of stairs off the side of the stage.

  “Here we go,” Collie said, squeezing Jill’s arm. “Your first big stage.”

  Jill sucked in her breath when she and Collie reached the top of the stairs and began to cross the stage. Collie let go of her arm and she walked to the middle, stopping to look around. She turned to look across the back of the stage to the wings. It was enormous and she feared she would look like a fool trying to get to the center of it when the concert started. Then she looked out at the rest of the stadium. Down on the field, it looked big, but from the stage, it was massive. She imagined it full of cheering fans, people clamoring to hear them sing and play. It was crazy. Absolutely crazy. She shook her head in wonder, her thoughts spinning dizzily.

  Collie sidled up to her.