An Early Wake

by Sheila Connolly

  Rose edged closer to her. “Here we go. Are you excited?”

  “I think I am,” Maura told her, and she realized it was true. Whatever songs or styles were played that night, the energy of the crowd was undeniable. Even after all these years, the people here cared about that motley bunch of musicians. And then someone struck a chord and the back room erupted with cheers.

  The next time Maura looked at the clock, it was nearly midnight, and the music was still going strong. An hour or more earlier Sean Murphy had come in out of uniform, and they’d exchanged a few words.

  “You’re off duty, Sean?” Maura had asked loudly as he edged his way up to the bar.

  He grinned. “What gave me away? Was it the denims?”

  “That, and you don’t look so serious. Pint?”

  “Please.” He looked around him. “Quite the lively crowd yeh have here.”

  “Don’t you dare think of taking anyone into custody! This is nothing short of a miracle.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied. “I told you, I’m a great fan of Niall’s. Has he been on?”

  “More than once, and he’s still there. Go on in,” Maura said, sliding a full pint toward him.

  “I’ll do that,” Sean replied, tossing a few euros on the counter before wading into the crowd once more.

  At midnight Jimmy came around the bar. “Why don’t you go on back and have a listen?”

  “Are we good for staying open?”

  “It’s taken care of,” Jimmy said vaguely, and Maura didn’t feel like questioning him. After all, there was a garda on the premises, and he would know if there was anything amiss, wouldn’t he?

  “Then I’ll take you up on that offer. Holler if you need help,” Maura told him, but he’d already turned away and was serving someone else. Actually, she decided as she stepped out from behind the bar, the majority of the people had moved themselves into the back room, and in the front the mood was a bit quieter—Jimmy could certainly handle it. She wove her way toward the back, smiling at those who greeted her along the way.

  When she stepped into the back room it was like jumping into a storm. The group on the stage was going full steam, and the sound of guitar, drums, fiddle, concertina, and whatever bounced off the walls and washed back again. She’d never been in the room when the music was live, and it was an almost physical thing, and overwhelming—and that was with the wall-to-wall bodies absorbing at least part of it. She looked up to see that the balconies were packed as well, and she was glad Mick had checked their stability. Although if anyone fell over the rail, they’d land on people, not the hard floor.

  Actually, looking around she realized that it was not a rowdy or belligerent crowd: people looked happy. She waved at Rose on the far side of the room, standing next to Tim, whose eyes were gleaming as he bounced to the beat. Sean stood a few feet away from them, but there was no way Maura could cross the room at the moment. The performers segued from one song to another, swapping out one or another player seamlessly. Every now and then they’d pause for a drink before picking up where they’d left off. Maura recognized a bit of a tune now and then, but most of the music was unfamiliar. Still, there was a constant thread running through many of the songs—a hint of the old sounds that even she recognized as coming from traditional music, a style that she had been told went back centuries. No one would identify this lot as anything but Irish.

  Niall led many of the songs, although he stepped back to let some of his colleagues have their moment as soloists. He caught sight of her and gave her a smile, without breaking stride, and she smiled back.

  She nudged her way to a corner and leaned against the wall, listening. She could feel some of the bass notes reverberating through the wall of the old building, almost as though there was a beating heart in it. The performers were glistening with sweat, and Maura realized how hot the room was; she looked up to see that the upper door wasn’t open. Might as well open it now, for ventilation. She wasn’t worried about crashers this late, and what did it matter? Everybody was having a good time.

  It took her five minutes to wriggle her way to the staircase and up the stairs, where quite a few people had taken seats. Once on the balcony, she had to fight her way to the back door, but nobody took offense when she stepped on a toe or elbowed someone accidentally; they were all too busy watching the stage below. Only when she reached the door did she realize that Mick had stationed himself up near it at the back of the balcony. He too looked completely absorbed by the music—and as happy as she’d ever seen him.

  “Trying to keep the riffraff out?” she yelled into his ear.

  “What?” he yelled back.

  “Are you guarding the door?”

  “No, I was trying to keep out of the way. You want it open?”

  “Yes—it’s about ninety degrees down there. Fahrenheit, I mean. We could use the air.”

  “No problem.” Mick reached past her and unlocked the door, and she slid outside, glad for a momentary rush of cooler air—and the muting of the music. Mick followed her out. “What do yeh think?”

  “It’s amazing. Niall is really something—you can see why he made it big. But everyone is working together—it’s not all about him. I think I finally get it.”

  “The music, you mean?”

  “Yeah. It’s wonderful.”

  They’d been leaning against the outside wall, cooling down, so Maura wasn’t prepared when Mick swung around to face her—and then kissed her. Not a tentative peck, but a full-on, full-out kiss. She froze for a fraction of a moment, and then she found she was kissing him back. Maura, what the hell do you think you’re doing? She didn’t care, because it felt like part of the music and the excitement. Maybe she’d regret it in the morning, but right now it felt right.

  Before things went too far, though, she pulled back to look up at him. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

  “Sober as a judge. Why? Are you hoping I’ll forget this?”

  “I’m not sure. I’ll let you know tomorrow. We should go back in.”

  “Right so. The boys should be wrapping up soon enough, I think. Hold on”—he reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear—“that’s better. You go on in; I’ll follow in a minute.”

  Maura turned and went back inside, hoping her cheeks weren’t flaming red, or if they were, that people would think it was the heat and the music. No one seemed to be paying her the slightest bit of attention—except Sean Murphy, who was watching her from across the room below. Had he seen Mick follow her out? Did it matter? She wasn’t sure.

  As Mick had predicted, the song ended and Niall stepped forward. “It’s been grand to play fer you all tonight, I think we all agree.” Cheers from the crowd. “But this is also our way of saying good-bye to Aidan Crowley, who most of us up here on this stage knew. He and I started out together a long time ago, and I’m sorry we didn’t keep on the same path. But this room here was where he played his last session, and I want you all to raise yer glasses in his memory.”

  The audience quieted, and a forest of glasses went high. Then Niall stepped back, and the group began one more song, this one slower and without amps. Maura didn’t know the lyrics, but the boys sang it with care, and she could pick out some of the words. Mick came up behind her and leaned to whisper in her ear, “It’s ‘The Parting Glass.’ Good choice.”

  Maura could only nod, because by the time the song ended, tears were running down her face.

  Of all the money that e’er I had

  I spent it in good company

  And all the harm I’ve ever done

  Alas it was to none but me

  And all I’ve done for want of wit

  To mem’ry now I can’t recall

  So fill to me the parting glass

  Good night and joy be to you all

  When the song ended there was a moment of silence, and there wasn’t a dry eye in the place, that Maura could see. Then Niall stepped forward again. “Before we all go our separate
ways, we also need to thank Maura Donovan, who’s taken over for our old friend Mick Sullivan. Come on up here, Maura. I think she’s done Mick Sullivan proud.”

  Maura fought down a wave of shyness and began to struggle her way to the stage, wiping the tears from her face along the way, trying to think of something, anything, to say. But she knew she had to do it, because that was her job now—she was the owner of the pub. When she reached the edge of the stage, Niall extended a hand and helped her up, then smiled his encouragement. “Go on, then.”

  Maura turned to face the crowd, filled with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. “I don’t know how you all found your way here tonight, but I’m glad you did—and I hope you’ll be back. I never had the chance to meet Mick Sullivan, but I’ve tried to do right by him.” That met with cheers and clapping. “And this wouldn’t have happened without the help of a lot of other people, starting with Billy Sheahan and Tim Reilly, and of course Niall here. If you’re all willing, we’ll make it happen again.” Minus the death, Maura reminded herself. But despite it being his wake, it seemed Aidan was not on people’s minds, and they all cheered—for her. “Thank you all for making it a wonderful night, and safe home to you all.”

  The crowd quieted slowly, and people began drifting toward the front of the building. Maura saw Mick making his way in that direction, probably to manage the traffic. She turned to Niall. “Thank you, for a lot of things. I’ve never seen anything like this, much less been part of it.”

  “It’s what we do,” Niall said simply. “We make music, and that makes people happy. That’s all it is.”

  “Will you be back?”

  “I’d like that. But you’ve got to see what yeh can do with it on yer own.”

  “Deal. Are you guys set for the night?”

  “Not to worry—we’re grand.”

  “Then I’d better make sure everything’s okay up front.”

  In the front room the crowd had thinned, with only a few diehards finishing up their last pints at the bar. Billy had disappeared, which didn’t surprise Maura—she only hoped she had his stamina when she was his age, in a half century or so. But Sean was waiting near the door, leaning against the jamb, and he straightened up when he saw her, and she crossed the room to talk with him. “What did you think?” she asked when she was close enough to be heard.

  “It was brilliant. Really. Niall was right—Old Mick would be proud of yeh. Listen, uh,” he said, looking down at his feet, “I’ve got those tickets fer the show we talked about. That is, if yeh still want to go?”

  He looked back at her then, and his expression tore at Maura’s heart, it was so eager and so hopeful. Had he seen her and Mick? Or seen her face when she’d come back in? No, he couldn’t have. “Sure, I’d love to. Next week, is it?”

  Now Sean looked ridiculously pleased. “That’s grand. I’ll let you know the details. Thanks again for an amazin’ evenin’,” he said as he turned and left.

  Maura, still smiling, turned and found Mick staring at her from behind the bar. Her smile faded. “What?”

  After a moment he said, “Nothin’. Want me to close up?”

  “Why don’t you let me? I’d kind of like to be alone in the place, just for a minute.”

  “Right so. I’ll be on my way, then,” he said. He set the broom carefully in the corner, then went out the door without looking back at her.

  Maura sighed: this Sean versus Mick thing was going to get tricky fast, but she wasn’t going to do anything about it right now. She was in no hurry. It was her choice to make. Or maybe she’d choose neither of them. It would all work out in the end, and she had plenty of time.

  She smiled, though there was no one to see. She’d turned a corner, somehow. She’d hoped the place would be profitable, and now she’d proved it could be. Better: she’d found something that was unique, that would draw people in. It was an unexpected gift, and she’d be an idiot to ignore it. She pivoted slowly, taking in the room. Everything was in order. All the people had gone. Did some hint of the music linger, embedded in the walls? Maybe.

  So what if she’d also found some trouble here; that was the exception, not the rule, at Sullivan’s. There were people she could turn to for help, and, what was more, they wanted to help. They had accepted her. Some knot inside her, balled up tight since she had arrived, could untangle now. She was staying.

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