His Lucky Charm: An Irish Mountain Man

by Frankie Love

  I still have a plane ticket home... and the last thing I want is to stay somewhere I’m not wanted.

  “So, where are we headed today?” I ask as we jump in his truck.

  “I have one last place I want to take you. I think you might find a rainbow there. It’s Saint Patty's day, after all, I think luck might be on our side.”

  “I think I’m done with the rainbow thing.”

  “But what about your photography show? The massively spectacular one that you have planned?”

  “Conor.” I shake my head. “Stop it. There’s not going to be a show. I’m going to move back home and get a job like everyone else. It’s time I grow up.”

  “You don’t need to be so dramatic.”

  I huff, rolling my eyes at Conor. Of course, he doesn’t seem to understand that it is dramatic, it’s my life.

  A life I would give to him if he asked for it.

  But he hasn’t. And I don’t expect him to. We’ve been inseparable for one week, but just because he said he wants a forever with me, it doesn’t mean those words are true... they could be lines he’s used before and lines he’ll use again.

  I don’t want that to be true... and most of my heart doesn’t think it possible––when he speaks to me it feels more than special … it feels like love.

  “Tell me, Clover, what sort of photography have you done in the past?” he asks as we drive down the road, attempting to take the edge off my tone. He doesn’t seem angry with me for being emotional––he takes it in stride. Conor accepts me.

  I exhale, trying to stay present even though my mind is a thousand miles away, thinking of the future. “I’ve always tried too hard to be unique. I did a series of portraits of people in Central Park. The whole thing was forced.”

  “Portraits of people in the park seems quite nice.”

  “Yeah, but mine were all really dark.” I shake my head remembering the stupid photographs I made. “Like literally dark. You could hardly see the people in them.”

  “Not artistic license?”

  “No more like trying to be so different I ended up like everybody else.”

  “Is no one else taking photographs of rainbows?”

  “I was going to transfer the images, I had this idea about the way I would capture the light in them, almost like I'd make it opposite. I know it’s hard to explain, but I wanted these rainbows to not just show the happy, but also the sad. Because not everyone finds a pot of gold. That’s why I was going to interchange the colors.” I look out the window. “It’s stupid, probably a dumb idea anyways. I mean, I had to find a fucking rainbow first, right?”

  Conor coughs gruffly, then grasps the steering wheel tightly.

  “What?” I ask.

  “Why are you trying so hard anyways?”

  I snort. “Why are you always taking things so easily?” I ask. “I mean, you just started this tour company because you wanted to. Live in a barn because you want to. You’re able to take everything in stride, never having a real problem.”

  “Real problems? And what exactly are your real problems, Clover?”

  “This is my problem, fucking it up. Making everything weird between us. I get scared. I get fucking terrified that you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I might be reading you all wrong.”

  “Stop it. Trust yourself and your instinct,” he says, not giving in to my wailing. “I don’t know why I’ve been so charmed, but I have and that’s that. My parents loved me, my brother was nice even though he is an asshole. But a regal sort of asshole. So, I don’t know, I never take things too seriously. But that’s my downfall when it comes to you. You think you’re scared of the unknown? Dammit, Clover, I’m terrified too.”

  I bite my knuckles, knowing we’re pushing past nicety and veering into a very real, very vulnerable––very true relationship. Everything is being tossed into the open and there is no safety net.

  “In my parents’ will, they left me my mother’s wedding ring. Do you know why?”

  “No. Why?” I ask not quite knowing where he’s going with this.

  “Because my parents’ greatest wish, the ongoing joke in our family, was that I’d never settle down. Marrying was their greatest wish for me.”

  “Well, that’s very sweet.” My shoulders are so freaking tense and I run my hand over my neck. Maybe I’m putting too much pressure on this. This relationship with Conor. I’m hoping that he’ll ask me to stay, but maybe I’m asking too much, more than he can handle.

  Conor runs his hand over his jaw, groaning. “I’m sorry. I’m fucking it up––getting you all worked up and that wasn’t the point of today. The opposite, in fact.”

  I drop my head against the headrest on my seat, silence overtaking the truck. Conor reaches for my hand, grasps it and pulls it to his lips.

  Knowing he’s still here, that we’re in this together, I ask, “Do you ever feel like life would be easier if it were in black and white?”

  “Why would you want things in black and white, lassie?”

  “It might be easier.”

  “Easier? Maybe. But fucking boring as hell. Why would you want your world to be in black and white when there’s another option?”

  “It might feel safer. More secure.

  “And that’s what you want? Safety, security? More than anything else?” Conor asks me. “I thought you wanted bright, beautiful rainbows. A life lived in every shade.”

  “Yes, is that so terrible?” I shake my head. “I’m tired of chasing things that aren’t real. I’m chasing rainbows, but I’m scared I’m just going to end up lost.”

  Conor parks the truck on an empty road. He gets out of the truck and walks around for my door, and helps me out.

  “Safety and security are lovely things,” he says. “But I believe a life with color is even more beautiful. Look at me, Clover. You don’t want life in black and white. Open your eyes and look around you. Don’t you see all the green hills and the snow-capped mountains? See the river running under that bridge, the brown dirt and the rough rocks? That’s what you get when you live life in color. So, tell me why you want your life in black and white.”

  I shake my head. “Everything with you is amplified, it’s like when we’re together we’re really happy or really sad or really horny.”

  “That’s a good thing, Clover. That is life in color.”

  “I need more than that. More than a metaphor. I need something concrete from you and I’m terrified that you’re too scared to give that to me.”

  Conor takes my face in his hands, looking at me dead on.

  “I’m not scared of saying what I mean,” he says. “If that’s what you’re asking. I want to say it. Been wanting to say it for days. Wanting to say it since the night we met. Since I saw your fiery eyes not putting up with anyone or anything. I’ve been wanting to say it since I heard you laugh at the pub, a laugh that came from the deepest part of you. You are unapologetically, you.”

  “Flaws and all?” I say, blinking, knowing the tears are going to fall, and once they do, I won’t be able to stop them.

  “There are no flaws with you, Clover. You may get a little hysterical, hangry even––but that’s your charm, lassie. Wouldn’t change that about you for the world.”

  He takes my hand and pulls me over to the bridge, where the river is running beneath it.

  “I wanted to bring you here today, to this specific place,” he tells me.

  “Why? Because you’re gonna find a rainbow?”

  “Believe it or not, there are no rainbows out here today. They’re over at Glencree now, I reckon. But listen, this bridge is from a famous movie, do you know it?”

  I look around, and then smile despite myself, realizing where we’re standing. “This is the bridge from the movie, PS I Love You, right?”

  He nods. “The final, most romantic stop on The Lucky Irishman Tour.”

  He takes my hands and laces our fingers together. When he looks down at me, I swear I can hear his hear
t beating through his shirt.

  “What is it?” I ask.

  “Clover, I love you. I wanted to say it last night.”

  “Why didn’t you?”

  “You fell asleep on me, lassie.”

  I laugh because as cocky and arrogant as this mountain man is, he also makes me smile in ways I never have before.

  And he loves me.

  Conor loves me.

  “Listen,” he says, “I wanted to say it this morning, but I wanted to be at this spot, a place we would remember for always. Clover, with all that I am, I love you.”

  “Conor,” I say, the knot in my stomach long gone, the tension in my shoulders evaporated, the smile on my face, wide. “I love you too.”

  “Even though I didn’t find your rainbow?”

  “Even though.”

  He kisses me then, a kiss that fills me to the brim. Standing on this bridge, the Irish sun shining down on us, I don’t need a picture to remember this day. It’s been sealed to my memory, bound to my heart. Conor is here with me, and he loves me.

  And I love him.

  “Can we go back to your place now?” I ask.

  He laughs. “You don’t want to find the rainbow today?”

  “I don’t need a rainbow if I have you.”

  Conor lifts me from the ground, and I wrap my legs around him as he kisses me again.

  “I love you, Clover. I hope you know how much I mean that.”

  “I know.” We smile, foreheads resting against one another.

  And never in my life have I felt so safe, so secure.

  In this moment, there is nothing that can change that.

  15

  On the ride back, I’m beaming, telling Conor how I’ve never felt so safe with anyone before—never had someone who was so completely honest and open with me.

  I get that I’m talking a lot, but it’s like once Conor told me how he felt, I was safe to tell him more about how I felt too.

  He doesn’t say much, but I talk enough for the two of us.

  We’ve only been gone from his house for a little over an hour, but I’m so excited to get in bed with him, maybe go down to his hot tub later, begin exploring one another’s bodies in a new way, a way that has promises attached to it.

  But when we get inside, Conor drops his keys on the counter and turns to me with a serious look on his face.

  Thinking he wants to get down to business, I walk toward him and begin unbuttoning his shirt, but he gently brushes my hand aside.

  With that motion, I know there’s more to the story than just I love you. There’s something he hasn’t said.

  “Listen, Clover, there’s something I need to tell you, something that might make you a little... angry?”

  “You mean hangry?” I ask, hoping he just doesn’t have any groceries and that we’ll need to go back out.

  “No, I mean angry-angry.”

  I laugh tightly, not wanting anything to ruin this picture-perfect day.

  “You waited until after you told me that you love me before you break the bad news? What is it, are you dying on me? Are you actually a convicted felon?”

  Conor runs his hand over his jaw and I see that he’s not matching my jokes tit for tat. Whatever he’s going to say next is truly serious.

  “I had to tell you how I felt before I told you this part because I feared losing you over it.”

  I frown, suddenly genuinely scared. “What’s going on?”

  He shakes his head, as if ashamed. “There was a bet. A bet on you. A bet I made with my brother Patrick.”

  I press my lips together, and then ask, “What kind of bet was it?”

  Conor sighs, like the weight of the world, is on his shoulders.

  “I think we need some whiskey for this,” he says like the true Irishman he is. He grabs a bottle and pours two shots. One for me and one for himself. He raises his glass to mine. “Just try and have an open mind, lass.”

  Not liking the tone in his voice, I shake my head, but then knowing this may very well be the end of this great ride, I tip back the whiskey anyways.

  “Keep talking, Conor.”

  “Look, before you I never kept a woman around, and my brother and Sean didn’t think I could manage a woman for a week. The night we met, I’d struck a bet with Patrick. I had until St. Patrick’s Day to show back up at the pub with the woman of their choosing, proving she’d fallen for me.”

  “And if you did,” I press. “What would you get?”

  “If I did, I’d get my brother’s land. The land that this barn is built upon. I don’t own it. Patrick does. He inherited it.”

  “You got a ring and he got this entire piece of property?”

  “All my parents wanted was to see me married, and for Patrick to slow down and enjoy the simpler things in life. The things you can enjoy out here in the woods.”

  I scoff, crossing my arms because if I did anything right now besides pulling up my guard, I would be lost to a sea of tears.

  I love this man and I am nothing but a bet to him?

  “Was any of this real?”

  “Of course, it was,” he tells me. “I swear to you. It wasn’t a trick. I mean that part wasn’t a trick. They chose you from the crowd, and lucky choice, right? We were made for one another. So yes, it started as a bet, but then it turned into something real.”

  “Is that everything?” I ask. “Or is there more?”

  “I want to be straight with you, I can’t tell you I love you and then be dishonest. So, listen. You know how all week we’ve gone looking for rainbows?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, do you really think you could go a whole week without seeing one with The Lucky Irishman?”

  “You lied about rainbows?” I throw my hands in the air, feeling like the fool I am. Of course, the moment I threw inhibition to the wind, I end up a joke.

  “Listen,” Conor says. “What would have happened if I pointed one out to you? What would you have done that first day when I turned you around and pointed out the rainbow right behind us?” Conor shakes his head. “I know exactly what you would have done. You’d have left.”

  “And you wouldn’t want that because then you’d lose your precious bet.”

  “No,” Conor says. “I don’t care about the bet, well, not completely. I care about you. About losing you.”

  “Nice way of showing it, Conor. You saw rainbows all week, the one thing I came to Ireland to find, and you didn’t tell me? How is that love?” I ask, my emotions on overdrive, my anger rising. “Conor, you kept me here by lying to me. What else have you lied about?”

  “Nothing else, I swear it.”

  “And why should I believe you?” I shake my head, this is Julian all over -- a man who lies to me, who makes me believe we’re something we aren’t.

  I’m such a fucking fool.

  “We can go outside, I’ll show you a rainbow. I see them everywhere I go.”

  “That’s fantastic, Conor. I’m so pleased for you.” I step away from him, turning to his bedroom. “But I’m leaving. I have to go.”

  “Don’t leave, Clover. We can work this out. I don’t care about the bet; we don’t need to go to the pub. Just stay here with me.”

  “I’m such a fool, a fool to think I could change my luck.”

  In his room, I start shoving my clothes and toiletries in my backpack, needing to leave. Needing to run. Fast. If I stop, I might fall apart.

  I find my cell phone and punch in the numbers to Hildegard’s restaurant down the street.

  “Hildegard, it’s Clover, up at Conor’s place. I need a ride to Dublin. Can you give me one?”

  “What did he do now?” she asks.

  I look right into Conor's eyes as I reply, “He broke my heart.”

  16

  I’m a man, but that doesn’t mean I can’t cry. Especially when Clover has her bag thrown over her shoulder and her face turned from me.

  Hildegard’s car is here, and I tell her not to go. Clover j
ust shakes her head, her face washed in tears. Mine is too.

  Hilde’s watching with a smug look on her face, and I just want to kick in her tires, take Clover by the arms, and drag her into my house.

  “You can’t just leave like this. You don’t have to. I love you.”

  “I need to go into the city, I feel so confused, Conor.” She covers her face, crying, and I try and wrap my arms around her, but Clover isn’t having any of it.

  “I trusted you with everything, Conor. And you played games with me.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry love. I truly am. I knew you’d be angry but––”

  “Angry but? Conor, this isn’t me angry—this is me heartbroken.”

  “Hilde, it’s crazy to take her to Dublin now, the streets are gonna be wild. Tourists with their green beer and drunken riots––Clover shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Stand back, Conor let the lady in the car,” Hilde tells me like she has any right over me. “She’ll call you if she wants ta.”

  I move aside and let Clover get in the car, I don’t want to step away, but after all I’ve done, the last thing I want is to hurt her anymore.

  I respect her too much, even if at this moment she’s not right in the head. I’m the one who did this to her. I said I never wanted to make her cry, yet she’s leaving my place with nothing but tears and a broken heart.

  The car drives away. I call out after it, shouting that I love her.

  Love her so damn much.

  I scream at the sky, “Goddammit!”

  How could I be so fucking stupid? At the beginning of the week, I was still confused, I didn’t know what I really wanted. I thought the property would give her a reason to love me, yet she was willing to love me even though I had nothing grand to offer her.

  After the car drives off, I try to calm my thoughts, but they’re a mess, there’s only one thing I know for certain–– I need to go after Clover.

  Sean and Patrick text to see if I’m gonna be at the pub, and when. Of course, I am, I lost the bet, and I may be an ass, but I’m a man of my word.

  Besides, I need to go to Dublin now. That’s where Hilde’s taken Clover and I’m determined to find her.