Love Is a Breeze

by Purcell, Sarah

  “He was not,” Brianna said. “It is at the top of my price range so they’re not likely to get much better. It wasn’t that bad.”

  “Compared to the others we’ve seen but that’s not saying much. There is no way on God’s green earth that I would let you live there.”

  “I’m starved,” Brianna said, allowing the ‘let you’ to slide, for now. “There’s a pizza place just around the corner. It’s the best pizza in the city.”

  “You know this neighborhood?” John asked.

  “I lived with my aunt just a few blocks over near St. Patrick’s Church.” She pointed to the left.

  John was still steaming when they entered the pizzeria. A man tossed dough in the corner kitchen area of the dimly lit room. The spicy aroma coming from the hot brick ovens along the wall made Brianna’s mouth water. A jukebox played a popular song and several people ate at tables covered with red-checkered cloths. They chose a corner one. A wax-covered wine bottle in the center held a candle stub.

  Brianna lightly punched John’s shoulder, “Come on, cheer up. I don’t think of you as my father, even if you do act like it sometimes. He was a kid, to him anyone over thirty is old.”

  The waiter took their order and returned with large glasses of soda.

  “Tell me about your family. You mentioned brothers the other night.”

  “Yeah, there are four of them. I’m the baby by several years.”

  John unwrapped the straws and placed one in each glass.

  “That’s a lot of boys to put up with.”

  “Tell me about it. A testosterone nightmare.”

  John laughed. “So, where did you grow up – I know you’re from Ireland.”

  “I grew up in a centuries old stone house on a small sheep farm in County Galway near Dunmore until I got sent to the states.” Her eyes clouded.

  He nodded, “Go on.”

  “At fourteen, I was quite rebellious. Papa and the boys didn’t know what to do with me after Mum took sick.” She looked up and saw a flicker of sympathy in John’s eyes. “I’d sneak out my window at night and meet friends. One night, Sean – he’s the youngest – caught me making out with a neighbor boy. He was older and had a bad reputation. Maybe that’s why I liked him.” Brianna chuckled. “Anyway, Sean told Michael – my oldest brother – who told Papa. He sent me to bed and nailed my window shut–” John’s jaw dropped. She tilted her head and gave him a lopsided smile. “–the “men” had a discussion that decided my fate. I was shipped off to Chicago to live with my dad’s older sister and her husband.”

  “That must have been hard on you.” John briefly touched her hand.

  “Yeah, well, life isn’t always easy. Aunt Tillie was a timid little woman and Uncle Bruce was a real tyrant. He didn’t want to be bothered with me. I think the only reason he agreed to my coming to live with them was the money Papa sent every month. Uncle Bruce’s job as a janitor at the high school didn’t pay a whole lot. ‘I have to put up with hooligans all day, I’ll not be puttin’ up with one in me own house,’ he said.” She mimicked his gruff Irish brogue. “He was a big, burly Irishman. Scared the daylights out of me, he did. He died about a year after I arrived.”

  “What happened?” John asked as the waiter set their drinks on the table.

  “Heart attack. One minute he was ranting at poor Aunt Tillie about hard potatoes in the stew– Aunt Till wasn’t a very good cook. Uncle Bruce yelled a lot about that– “ She paused to take a sip of her Coke. “– and the next minute he was face down in his bowl, splat!” She slapped the table with her palm.

  John inhaled a mouthful of his drink and grabbed for a napkin as his face turned red. Brianna jumped up and pounded him on the back.

  “I’m okay. I’m fine,” John sputtered through the napkin he held over his mouth.

  Brianna returned to her seat but kept a worried eye on John as he wiped the corners of his eyes and regained his composure.

  “Go on.” His voice was still raspy.

  “Well, Aunt Tillie was getting old and her health wasn’t so good. Besides, she didn’t know how to do much of anything so I went to work at the local pub.”

  “A pub? At your age?”

  “The owner was a friend of the family. I washed dishes and cleaned up.”

  “Not much of a life for a kid.”

  “It wasn’t so bad, really.” Brianna shrugged her shoulders. “A little work never hurt anyone.” The waiter set the pizza on their table. “Ahh, saved by the pizza.”

  John put a slice on his plate and reached for a knife and fork but Brianna covered his hand.

  “You can’t eat pizza with a fork,” she admonished, grabbing a piece and biting into it. “You have to eat it with your fingers to appreciate the full flavor.” She licked a bit of sauce from the corner of her mouth.

  John gulped, picked up his slice and bit into it.

  “Delicious,” he said.

  * * * *

  “Now, it’s time for my picks,” John said as they got into the car.

  “This ought to be good. What are the chances of there being anything I can afford on that list?”

  “You’ll see. I kept your pocketbook in mind.”

  Brianna was skeptical but humored him.

  John headed northeast and took the lakeshore drive.

  “There’s nothing in Lincoln Park that I can afford,” Brianna said when John turned into the parking lot of a complex.

  “There might be.”

  They looked at two that had lake views, and another one a block from the beach. All were very modern, very cold and very expensive. John turned onto a tree-lined boulevard about two blocks from the lake. He stopped in front of a pretty English Tudor style house. It was small compared to the other houses on the block but still quite large by her standards.

  “I can’t afford anything like this,” she said.

  “I’m not showing you the whole house,” John said. “According to the paper, there is a small apartment over the garage. It’s worth looking at and might be affordable.”

  “Yeah, like all the others you found.” Brianna followed him up the curved walk to the front door. John lifted the brass knocker.

  A tall woman with silver streaked dark hair answered the door.

  “Hello. Are you the young man that called about the apartment?” Brianna knew that made his day.

  “Yes. I’m John Sharp and this is my friend, Brianna Ryan. She’s the one interested in the apartment,” John said. Brianna shook the offered hand.

  “I’m Mrs. Whitley. Please come in.” The interior was wonderfully cool and tastefully decorated. Mrs. Whitley led them through the living and dining rooms to the kitchen. “The apartment is back here, above the garage.”

  They walked across the flagstone patio, bordered by a large shady lawn, to the garage. She unlocked a door on the side revealing a stairway to the upper floor.

  At the top of the stairs there was a large living-dining room with windows on two sides and a breakfast bar at one end, dividing the galley kitchen from the main room. In the back was a bedroom that looked out on the lawn, and a bathroom. It had an old claw-foot tub that Brianna fell in love with.

  “It’s a lovely apartment, Mrs. Whitley. How much is the rent?”

  Mrs. Whitley named a price that was well within Brianna’s budget.

  “Excuse me?” Brianna was sure she had misunderstood. “I’m not sure I heard you right.”

  Mrs. Whitley repeated the figure. Brianna looked at John.

  “Could I see you outside for a minute?” she said to John.

  “What? You don’t like it?” John asked, when they were out of Mrs. Whitley’s range.

  “I love it,” Brianna said, “but how can she rent it so cheap? I feel like I would be taking advantage of her.”

  “Mrs. Whitley,” John called to the woman. “Brianna wants to know why you are renting this so cheap.” Brianna slapped his arm, John grinned. “Is there something wrong with the apartment that we should know ab
out?”

  Mrs. Whitley came into the room. “There’s nothing wrong with it, young man.”

  “I’m so sorry, Mrs. Whitley,” Brianna said, glaring at John.

  “It’s all right, dear. Men can be maddening sometimes, can’t they?” she gave John a stern look and patted Brianna’s arm. “Pay no attention to him. My husband died a few years ago and I don’t need the money. This was the servant’s quarter’s years ago. My nephew suggested I fix it up and rent it out just to have someone near,” she fixed John with another glare.

  “How soon could I move in?” Brianna asked.

  “There’s still some plumbing and electrical work to finish up. I’m sure it will be ready by the end of the month.”

  “That’s wonderful,” Brianna said, barely able to contain her excitement.

  They followed Mrs. Whitley back to her house. Brianna signed a lease and John offered to pay a deposit but Mrs. Whitley insisted it wasn’t necessary.

  Brianna danced backward all the way to the car, afraid if she took her eyes off her garage it would disappear. She couldn’t believe her luck. A beautiful apartment in a beautiful neighborhood and it was affordable. She’d surely died and gone to heaven.

  “Let’s celebrate,” John said as he turned onto North Shore Drive. “We’ll go home, change and go somewhere nice for dinner.”

  “I know a fun place and we wouldn’t have to change clothes,” Brianna said. “It’s near the place we ate lunch, though.” John looked doubtful. “Really, you’ll love it. Irish food, Irish beer, and Irish music.”

  “If you say so,” John said as he turned the car around.

  “I do.”

  When they entered Paddy’s Pub, Brianna waved at the stout, redheaded bartender.

  “Evenin’ Breeze. Haven’t seen you in a while,” he said.

  “Hey, Paddy. Some of us gotta work for a livin’ ya know,” Brianna said. “This is my friend, John,”

  “John, pleased to meet ya,” Paddy shook John’s hand. “A friend of Breeze’s is a friend of Paddy’s. What can I git ya?”

  “A couple of pints of Guinness, Paddy.” Brianna led the way to a booth in the corner, greeting several more people on the way.

  “You seem to know a lot of people here,” John said.

  “I told you, I used to live around here. This is where I worked.”

  Paddy set the foamy mugs of ale on the table. “You be wantin’ t’ eat? Mary’s brewin’ a pot o’ her famous stew.”

  “Not just yet, Paddy, thanks.” Brianna said. “Come on,” she said grabbing John’s hand. “Bring your beer.”

  John grabbed his beer with his free hand while Brianna pulled him to the piano where a short man in a bowler hat, green vest and a red plaid bow-tie had just sat down to play. He placed an stein on top of the piano for tips.

  “Any requests?” he shouted.

  Several people called out various tunes, mostly Irish. He began with “When Irish Eyes Are Smiling.” Everyone joined in, singing loudly.

  “This is your song,” John said, leaning close to Brianna’s ear. He raised his mug to hers and smiled into the emerald green depths of her Irish eyes.

  Brianna could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. She turned and took a paper from the top of the piano. “Here,” she said, handing it to John, “the words to most of the songs. You’ll need them later. Some of the songs are not well known.” She flashed a mischievous grin.

  One hour later, they sat at their table. “Maybe we should eat something.” John said. “What do you suggest?”

  “We could try Mary’s Irish stew, it’s very good or they have wonderful corned beef on rye. Or… how about both? One of each and we’ll share.”

  Brianna hailed the waitress. John watched the sway of her hips as she approached the table. Brianna nudged him with her foot.

  “Hi, Erin. We’re ready to order,” Brianna ordered for them. “This is Paddy’s daughter. Erin, this is John.”

  “A pleasure, Erin,” John said. His gaze lingered on the expanse of cleavage displayed when Erin leaned over to pick up the empty mugs and replace them with full ones. Brianna nudged him harder.

  “She’s married,” Brianna said, when Erin had left.

  “Damn!” John said, quickly moving his leg. Brianna kicked his chair and winced. She glared at him.

  “Not only is she married, she has two kids.”

  John released an exaggerated sigh of disappointment. Brianna smacked him with her napkin.

  Erin returned and set a large, steaming bowl of stew in front of them along with a sandwich stacked high with corned beef and Swiss cheese.

  “That’s a small bowl?” John asked. “It’s a wonder everyone doesn’t weigh 300 pounds around here.” He picked up a sandwich half and attempted to smash it thin enough to fit his mouth.

  “We’ll work it off later,” Brianna said. John gave her a questioning look. “I always get a little home sick when I come here.” She forked a cube of meat from the stew and put it into her mouth.

  When they had finished eating, Brianna got up and grabbed John’s hand.

  “I’m too full to move,” he said in protest, leaning back and rubbing his stomach.

  She pulled him up and led him back to the piano where the music had been steadily getting faster and louder. A fiddler had joined in. Several people were dancing an Irish line dance.

  “I can’t understand the words,” John said, raising his voice above the clamor.

  “That’s probably for the best,” Brianna replied with a smile. She showed him how to do the dance. He caught on quickly and soon kept up with the others with only minor miss-steps.

  After several songs, they sat down to catch their breath and quench their parched throats. Brianna barely had time to set her mug down when a local patron seized her hand and pulled her back to the dance floor for an old-fashioned Irish jig.

  John watched, fascinated by the lively steps as they increased their pace to keep up with the music. Brianna finally collapsed in her partner’s arms, exhausted but exhilarated. He escorted her back to the table.

  “This here’s the best little jigger this side of the Atlantic,” he declared. “You take real good care o’ her.”

  John nodded, keeping his eyes on Brianna’s flushed face and sparkling eyes.

  “Are you having a good time?” she asked John.

  “Incredible,” he answered. “Hey, they’re playing your song again.” He pulled a reluctant Brianna to her feet.

  “You can’t be serious. My feet are killing me and I can barely breathe.”

  “Come on. It’s slow and you can lean on me.”

  John turned her into his arms. He signaled the musicians to slow the tempo a bit more.

  Brianna could feel the beating of his heart beneath her cheek as she relied on him to keep her upright. Her left hand curved around his neck as he tightened his hold on her waist. As the song ended, he twirled her around and caught her to his side. He grasped her waist and lifted her off her feet, letting her slide down his body as the little band played the opening cords of ‘Danny Boy.’

  “Let’s go. This is the last song and it always makes me cry,” Brianna said.

  “All ready?” John glanced at his watch, surprised to see that it was past two in the morning.

  Brianna hummed ‘When Irish Eyes Are Smiling’ all the way home. John kept a steadying arm around the sleepy girl until they reached her bedroom door. He grasped her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

  “Thanks for a delightful evening, my little Irish rose,” he caressed her cheek with the back of his hand before gently pushing her into her room. She gave him a dreamy smile and closed the door. John waited a moment before walking down the hall to his room.

  CHAPTER Twelve

  Brianna woke with a smile, humming “Oh, What a Beautiful Morning.” In the shower she sang an array of Irish tunes. She finished the last chorus of “My Wild Irish Rose” as she entered the kitchen, surprised and disappointed, to find it empty
.

  She filled her teapot and set it on the stove and made a cup of coffee for John. She sat at the bar with her bowl of cereal when John wandered in looking wonderfully disheveled. He went straight for the coffee.

  “Good morning,” Brianna chirped.

  “Hm,” he replied, holding up a hand. “Don’t talk until I’ve had some caffeine.”

  “Rough night?” Brianna lowered her head to hide a smile.

  He leaned against the counter, closed his eyes and gulped the steaming liquid.

  After finishing her Cheerios in silence, she brewed a cup of tea for herself and another cup of coffee for John.

  “Ahh, I feel almost human,” he said as he drained his second cup. “I never sleep this late. It’s your fault, keeping me out until the wee hours dancing like a young pup. This morning I feel old enough to be your father.”

  “Aww. You poor old man. You’ll feel better after a nice hot bath. Should I run one for you?” Brianna teased.

  “Feeling a bit cheeky this morning, aren’t we?”

  “I feel wonderful. I have a new apartment that I love and, even better, that I can afford.”

  “Tired of living with me?”

  “No, not at all, but I’ll bet you’ll be glad to get rid of me.”

  John gazed at her intently before pushing away from the counter. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  When he returned, Brianna set a piece of toast and another cup of coffee in front of him. “What are your plans for the weekend?”

  “Just a little R and R.” He picked up his cup. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to the beach with Carly. It’s Rob’s weekend to work. Why don’t you ask Ms. Schuster out?”

  “Kaitlyn?” John set his cup down and looked at her. “Why would I do that?”

  “Because she likes you and you have a lot in common and you need some fun in your life.” She ticked off the reasons on her fingers.

  “Oh, I do, do I? And, what makes you think she likes me?”

  “I’ve heard talk at work.”

  “You mean gossip.” He looked at her over the rim of his mug.

  “Call it what you want. The fact is she’s a ladder climber,” Brianna declared smugly.