Love Delayed In Dublin

by Moni Boyce

  Conor’s face became a little somber before he answered. “He’s fine.” He glanced down at their hands and squeezed her fingers

  “I’d love to meet him.” She hoped it wasn’t too soon to say that.

  His head snapped back up and he peered at her. Surprise colored his face. “You do?”

  “Of course, I do. He’s your father.”

  “Aye… I’d like that too.” There was still a measure of disbelief in his eyes as he stared at her. Then he seemed to remember he had something to tell her.

  “Tomorrow, I want to show you Dublin. You have to see more than the pub or your hotel room, while you’re on vacation.”

  “Ooh, where are you taking me?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “Ugh. I want to know.” Jordan mock pouted.

  “You’re quite cute when you pout, but I’m not going to tell you. I bet you were the kid at Christmas that shook the presents, weren’t you?”

  “And you didn’t?”

  “Och no.”

  “I don’t believe you.” She playfully slapped his arm. “I have to go to the… wait, what did Siobhan call it yesterday? The jakes?”

  Conor cracked up. “Bloody hell, woman. Your Irish slang is terrible. We must fix that. It’s the jacks.”

  Jordan chortled. “Give me a break. It’s only been a couple of days.” She got down from the stool and headed towards the bathroom.

  Jordan was washing her hands, when a pretty blonde came into the bathroom and started putting on lipstick at the sink next to her. As she applied lipstick, the woman looked in the mirror at her and smiled. Jordan smiled back.

  “Is that your fella you were kissing?” She grinned at Jordan after asking the question.

  For a second, she thought about it. It had only been a couple days. They hadn’t put labels on it or talked about what they were.

  “Yeah, we’re seeing each other.” She answered the blonde while drying her hands.

  The woman stopped messing with her make-up. “Oh, you’re an American?”

  “Yep.”

  “Grand.”

  Jordan gave her another small smile. “Have a nice day.”

  The blonde beamed at her and went back to fluffing her hair and checking her lipstick.

  While she approached the bar, Conor was grinning at her, a short while later, his face fell and became stern. His eyes narrowed on someone and he followed their movement. When she turned to look behind her, she wasn’t sure who in the crowd had him agitated.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Did any women talk to you while you were gone?” His tone was laced with suspicion.

  “Yeah, a blonde woman, in the bathroom, why?”

  “What did she say to you?” He looked over her shoulder.

  “She… she asked me if we were together?” Jordan stammered and looked over her shoulder. That’s when she caught sight of the table of women she’d seen when she came in. The blonde sat amongst them. Jordan turned back to Conor. “What’s this about?”

  Sighing, Conor shut his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That was Aoife. My ex.”

  Jordan felt stupid for thinking the woman was trying to be friendly. Her ignorance quickly turned to anger.

  “So, she came into the bathroom to size up the competition?” Jordan looked at the table that the blonde sat at with her friends.

  Aoife glanced in their direction. Jordan didn’t try and hide the fact that she was staring at her. If she could come stalk her in the bathroom, like a sneaky bitch, then she would glare at her from across the room.

  “Jordan, there is no competition. You’re the only woman I want to be with. It’s been over with Aoife for nearly two years.”

  After hearing his words, she turned back around to face him. Her anger dissipated when she saw the pleading look in his eyes. She reached across the bar and caressed his cheek. “I’m upset with myself for being fooled. Not you… We all have a crazy ex in our past.”

  Conor had told her exactly how he felt about her. There were no guessing games. She wasn’t about to let some ex from two years ago get in her head and try and sour things between the two of them.

  “I’m glad that didn’t turn into our first fight.” Conor handed her a bottle of water.

  She accepted it. “I’m thirty. I’m not going to be fighting with another woman over you.” She let that statement speak for itself. She was too old, and her mother and sisters would whoop her behind if she were in a foreign country getting arrested because she was beefing with another woman over a man. No ma’am. There were other Irishmen. She was just glad her Irishman was smarter than that.

  “By the way, I have a treat for you. When you stepped away Fergus reminded me that we have a trad session tonight.”

  This was something Jordan did remember seeing when she did a small amount of research on visiting Ireland. “I think I did see something about that in the guidebook. It’s live traditional Irish folk music, right?”

  “Aye. I think you’ll enjoy it. You’ll get to hear jigs and reels.” He pointed towards a makeshift stage that was being set up.

  Microphones and some chairs were being set up, along with speakers. Some of the musicians had already arrived and were tuning their instruments. One of the musicians had a set of bagpipes.

  “I didn’t know the Irish played bagpipes too. I always thought it was a Scottish instrument.”

  Desmond overheard her comment and chimed in. “Irish bagpipes differ from Scottish bagpipes. It’s known as the Uilleann pipes. Fergus plays them.”

  “I used to.” He held up his hand. “Arthritis doesn’t let me play so much anymore.”

  “Doesn’t keep you from moving that pint of Gat from the bar top to your mouth.” Siobhan teased the man. The wisecrack sent everyone off into peals of laughter, including Jordan.

  “I’m sorry, Fergus. You have to admit that was funny.” Jordan dabbed at her eyes, from where she’d started to tear up, she was laughing so hard.

  “Aye, it was a real gas.” It was said in sarcasm, but the corner of his mouth twitched, where he was trying to suppress a grin.

  Once her giggles subsided, she started asking Conor more questions about the instruments she didn’t recognize.

  “What’s the big tambourine looking instrument?”

  Conor lifted the bar flap and came up behind her. He leaned his weight against the bar and pulled her into his body, so her back rested against his front. One arm wrapped around her waist. Jordan leaned back against his solid chest.

  “It’s called a bodhrán. It’s a type of drum.” After that question, Conor took the time to point out the other instruments that would be heard in the session. He rested his chin on her shoulder and used his free hand to point out the other instruments, which included two fiddles, an Irish bouzouki, tin whistle, an Irish flute, concertina and a banjo.

  “Sometimes there’s a woman that plays the Celtic harp that will join them, but it’s not too often. As you can imagine, a harp is not the easiest instrument to carry around.”

  A short time later, the musicians took their places and began to play. No one had any sheet music. They just started playing. She couldn’t help wondering how they knew who to follow, or who was leading or when to join in? She would have started clapping, but she realized no one else was, so she refrained. A couple songs in, an older man, playing one of the fiddles, shouted. “Hup.”

  After he said it, something shifted in the music, but she couldn’t have told you what it was exactly since she wasn’t well versed in musical terminology.

  It was interesting to watch them play and hear the instruments blend together. Everyone listened enthralled by the stories the music was weaving.

  “What’s the song they’re playing now,” She whispered to Conor.

  “Naw. Not songs. Tunes. This one is a reel called Drowsy Maggie.” A few minutes later, he called out during the tune. “G’wan ya good thing.”

  Two hours later, the music came to a
n end.

  The older gentleman from earlier, the fiddler, stood and addressed the crowd. He had long snow-white hair and an equally long, snow-white beard. “It’s out of habit for us to end the session this way, but since it’s his pub, we’ll oblige him… Conor.”

  Before Conor walked away, he kissed her on the side of the head and then approached the small stage. He took one of the microphones from the stands and cleared his throat. “I want to dedicate this one to Jordan, my beautiful brown eyed girl. You just came back into my life, and I couldn’t be happier. Hit it.”

  The musicians started playing Van Morrison’s “Brown Eyed Girl.”

  When Conor started singing to her, she placed her hands over her mouth in shock. She was stunned. He sounded even better than she remembered. People whooped and shouted. Conor looked at her the whole time he sang. Many in the audience peered back at her to see whom he was singing to.

  Jordan was grinning from ear to ear. She was being serenaded in public. This kind of thing never happened. She was giddy with excitement. In her periphery, she could see the whispers and agitation coming from Aoife and her friends. Jordan smiled even brighter.

  A short while later, Aoife gathered her jacket and purse, and stormed from the pub with her friends in tow.

  The song was nearing its end. Conor stepped off the stage and walked towards her while he sang. She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. He was sexy as hell and the man had a voice.

  He came to a stop in front of her and belted out the ending.

  When he finished, the room erupted in applause. He handed off the microphone to someone standing nearby and he took her in his arms and kissed her, which made the crowd go wild.

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  Before she could respond, some of the audience came up, and swarmed them. When they began clapping him on the shoulder, patting him on the back, and commending him on his singing, she stepped to the side. She felt a bit like a groupie, waiting on the rock star to deal with his adoring fans.

  She waited patiently while everyone congratulated him on an amazing performance. He accepted everyone’s praise, but the bashful smile he wore, told her he was slightly uncomfortable with it. The fact that he didn’t let his talent go to his head endeared him to her even more.

  Twenty minutes later he joined her.

  “Hey Mr. Rock Star. Am I your groupie now?” She teased him.

  Conor put his arms around her waist and looked down at her. “You’re much more than a groupie.” His voice was soft, but firm and he held her gaze.

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. “You’re an amazing singer.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers and she was sure he was about to say something sweet.

  “Not like the warblin’ you were doing last night when you were trying to get me to remember that old program from the telly?”

  Jordan playfully slapped his chest, but then she ended up doubled over in laughter. It took her a while before she stopped cracking up. “You’re not right.”

  Later that night, he walked her back to the hotel, but couldn’t stay since he needed to look in on his father. Before leaving, he gave her a long, slow kiss goodbye. Both looked back over their shoulders at the other as they walked away. He wasn’t even out of sight and already she was anxious for tomorrow.

  10

  Conor

  These days, it was rare for Conor to share his love of architecture with anyone. It had become something sacred, that he kept only for himself. The New Year’s Eve night they spent together in New York, he remembered sharing his affinity for buildings, the construction and design of them. She’d listened with open curiosity and enthusiasm. Not many dates then or since had shown interest since Jordan. He was excited to share his hometown with her and his love for its architecture.

  Leaning against the railing, he waited on the sidewalk in front of the hotel, with his hands shoved into his pockets. He’d been afraid to go up to the room and knock. Fearful, that once he stepped inside the suite they would not emerge for hours, and he was eager to share this day with her.

  Seconds later, Jordan exited the hotel. Today, she wore a jean jacket over a fitted plain white t-shirt that showed off some cleavage, with those black stretchy pants all the women had, and a pair of runners. He was glad she’d dressed comfortably since they would be doing a lot of walking.

  Her hair was up on top of her head in a sexy bun. He was already thinking about how her curls would look tumbling down around her shoulders when he took them out of the bun.

  The way her face lit up the moment she laid eyes on him melted his heart. She hurried towards him. It still humbled him that a woman as accomplished as her, wanted to be with him.

  “Hey you.” She grabbed his hand and went up on her tiptoes to give him a quick kiss. “So, where are you taking me?”

  Did his breath smell? Was there something on his face? The kiss she’d given him was so short, it felt like something you’d give someone you weren’t fond of. Conor cocked an eyebrow at her. “What was that?”

  “What was what?” The coy tone in her voice told him she knew exactly what he meant.

  “C’mere and give me a proper kiss.” He pulled her into his body and dipped his head to claim her mouth. Once he kissed her thoroughly, he gave her a satisfied smile.

  “That’s better.” He may not have gone upstairs to collect her from her hotel room, but he did expect a proper kiss. “Now we’re ready.”

  He took her hand and they walked down the street.

  “Are you finally going to tell me where we’re going?” Jordan looked up at him hoping he was going to give something away.

  Conor smirked. “I’m taking you on a tour of some of my favorite pieces of architecture in the city.” The coy smirk only made her ask more questions.

  “Where are we starting first?” Jordan was giddy with excitement.

  “You’ll see when we get there.” He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “It’s a fifteen-minute walk from here.”

  While they walked down Bride Street, he pointed out things and told her stories about the city. They also asked each other questions about their lives.

  When they arrived at the church, he stared at it for a minute before he turned to her. “This is Christ Church Cathedral. It’s one of my favorite spots in the city.”

  Over the years, he’d sat on many of the various benches surrounding the church, to sketch. He’d seen the cathedral from every angle. The church had existed since around 1028. Even though it had been renovated, and much of the original structure no longer remained, he was in love with the design.

  Conor looked up at the gray stoned building. Every time he visited, he was always entranced by the place.

  “I can tell how much it means to you.” Jordan’s soft voice broke him from his musing.

  When he looked down at her, he found her staring at him with a knowing smile. “I bet you’ve visited this place so many times you’ve lost count.”

  “Aye.” He glanced back up at the church. While he stood there, a memory surfaced.

  “One of the first times I came here I was a young lad. I was with my mam… she loved architecture as well. My brother was but a wean and my Da lacked the patience to appreciate it… but for some reason she knew I would see the beauty in it, the way she did. It became our thing to come out here and sit…”

  Conor looked at Jordan once more. “You’re the first person I’ve brought out here since she passed.”

  His statement stunned her. Her mouth fell open. Words failed her. Seconds later, she wrapped her arms around his body and buried her head in his chest.

  “Thank you.” The sweet words of gratitude she spoke came out muffled by the fabric of his coat.

  Conor enveloped her in his arms and held her, kissing the top of her head. It was nice having her here.

  They spent the next thirty minutes at the cathedral, with him acting as tour guide. He pointed out the different styles that had been used, along wi
th the pieces of architecture that were his favorite and the stained glass windows. She drank it all in with a wide-eyed curiosity, even asking questions.

  He’d bring her back another day when they could linger. In order to see the other places, he wanted her to see, they had to limit their time at the church.

  The next stop was Dublin Castle. Not much of the original castle remained, which was a shame, but it did show the evolution of architecture in Ireland quite nicely. It was always swarming with tourists, snapping photos and standing rudely in the different paths, like they were the only visitors. Usually, he avoided it, but since it was her first visit to the city, he wanted to show it to her. Plus, he knew of a few alcoves where he would be able to steal some kisses and maybe something more.

  During the tour of the interior, Jordan loved the splendor of Saint Patrick’s Hall, the regal décor of the throne room and the very ornately decorated ceiling of the Apollo Room. Once he’d shown her a good amount of the castle grounds, he knew their next stop was across the river.

  Silently, they strolled along the River Liffey, hand-clasped, headed towards the next location. Once they reached the Ha’penny Bridge, he put his tour guide hat back on.

  “This bridge was built in the late spring of 1816. It was designated for pedestrians only and was the first bridge to span the River Liffey.” Looking out across the water, he took in the overcast sky. “It’s called Ha’penny because it used to be a penny to cross from one side to the other.”

  The old off-white bridge was nothing to look at compared to the later, modern bridges that were built, but given it was the first one, he decided it warranted a spot on the tour.

  “It’s kind of romantic.” Jordan snuggled closer to him.

  There were a lot of couples walking hand-in-hand or standing at the railing, stealing kisses or staring lovingly into one another’s eyes.

  “Aye. It is.”

  They kept walking along the crowded bridge, until they got to the street. Jordan asked him a question, which he could tell had been on her mind for some time.

  “Do you ever miss it? Architecture? You know… getting to create, build and design things?”