Boys were all merry, and the girls they were hearty And danced all around in couples and groups, ’Til an accident happened, young Terrence McCarthy Put his right leg through Miss Finnerty’s hoops.
—“Lanigan’s Ball,” Irish pub song
You look lovely, Finley.” Erin clipped a sequined rosette in my hair, and we both studied ourselves in her dresser mirror. There was something about an updo, a little extra eye shadow, and donning a dress that lifted the spirits and made me believe anything could happen on such a whimsical night.
“You look like a total princess,” I said, wishing for the millionth time that I had her impossible waist. And she got it so effortlessly. Didn’t have to watch what she ate, exercised twice a week, and consumed her dad’s French toast like I did my carrot sticks.
“I’m glad the dress shop was able to fix your dress on time. It fits you like a glove.”
Fanning myself against a nervous heat, I smiled at her in the mirror, careful not to get pale pink lipstick on my teeth. “A simple small nip and tuck.”
“Just think, you’ll see your parents in a little over a week. You’ll have such a grand time in New York.”
Last night I had another nightmare that I screwed up this audition. I still didn’t have an ending to the song, and the committee kicked me out. “I think I’ll go on down.” I picked up my clutch, my dress swishing around me as I walked. “You’re going to wow your date, Erin. I promise.”
The room suddenly warmed an extra ten degrees and spots floated across my line of vision. I reached out and steadied myself with the doorframe.
“Finley? Are you okay?”
Slowly I inhaled, praying against my clammy skin. “Yes. I’m fine. Just . . . had too much caffeine today, I guess.” And not enough to eat. There hadn’t been time.
Erin dusted her frown with powder. “I’m concerned about you. You’ve been . . . different.”
“Just stress—it’s getting so close to the audition. Still have lots to do. And I’m worried about Mrs. Sweeney.” She had spent most of the week sleeping round the clock. It was hard to witness her decline.
“I guess.” Erin hesitated, wringing her newly manicured hands. “But it seems that you’re kind of distant. And kind of . . . I don’t know, extra quiet. Especially at dinner. I’m worried about you is all. I’ve been reading lately, and . . . sometimes when you’ve suffered a trauma, you overcompensate in other areas to help you cope.”
“Translation, Dr. Erin?” My tone was light, yet Erin’s face was anything but.
“I just . . . wonder if you’ve noticed how little you eat. It’s getting worse. Could that be why you feel poorly tonight?”
“I’m fine. Maybe a little under the weather.”
“You can tell me anything, you know.”
“I don’t have a problem with eating. Is that what you mean?” I laughed. “That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re under a lot of pressure. It would be understandable. The human brain—”
“Our dates are probably waiting. We can talk about this later.” Or never.
Fighting a headache, I walked down the stairs, one hand on the hem of my dress and one hand on the rail.
Nora stood at the bottom, snapping pictures with her camera. “Like a model, you are. Don’t you think, Beckett?”
Beckett Rush, star of film and fang, stood beside my host mother, his eyes shining on me like they did when he looked on the cliffs or the sea at Lahinch. “She’s amazing.” Taking my hand, he kissed the top of it like he was straight out of the 1800s. Clearly his movie was going to his head. “Beautiful inside and out,” Beckett said.
Nora took a few more pictures of us together, me in my dress and Beckett in his immaculately tailored suit the color of wheat. “I wish we could go,” Nora said. “But Liam’s come down with a nasty cold, so no fun for us.” Liam chose that moment to call from upstairs. “Better go see what my patient needs now.”
“I would tell you you look fetching,” I said to Beckett, watching Nora stomp up the steps. “But I guess tonight doesn’t compare to all the red carpet events you’ve seen.” All the glamorous girls on his arm.
“I’ve never been to a village dance. Or prom.” His smile did nothing to help my light-headedness. “This is a special night for me too. I get to be a regular guy.”
“Except you’re not. You’re Beckett Rush. You know there’s going to be a small mob. The media will have pictures posted by midnight.”
He warmed one of my hands in both of his. “I’m sure someone in my camp will spin it, so.”
“Like your dad.”
Beckett gave a dismissive shrug. “He doesn’t know what I’m doing tonight.”
The doorbell rang, and I heard Sean make his way from the kitchen to answer it.
“I think my date is here,” I said.
Beckett looked over my head. “And mine is coming down the stairs.”
Erin floated toward us, a vision in white. Her hair sat atop her head in an intricate twist, thanks to our afternoon at the salon. Her dangling earrings sparkled in the light and matched the sequins on her heels. One day I wanted to have her elegance, her chic.
“Hi, Beckett,” she said, her cheeks a bright pink. “Thanks, um. Thanks for . . . going with me.”
“Hey, it’s me.” He gave her a big-brother grin meant to put her at ease. “The guy who’s been eating dinner with you for weeks.
You’ve seen me with tartar sauce on my chin and milk on my lip.
Don’t be nervous, okay?”
My heart melted a little bit more as Beckett went into a story about a time he split his pants at a premiere.
“Your date, Finley.” Sean stared down the new arrival. “You boys are aware of my vast army experience?”
Nora came back down with the camera. “Sean, you bake pastries and fluff pillows now. Leave the fellas alone.”
“Glad you could join us.” Beckett held out his hand and my date shook it. “I’m Beckett Rush.”
“Joshua Smith.” He took anxious eyes off Sean. “Wow, who’d have thought after just a few weeks living here, I’d meet a famous actor and get a date for the dance?”
I heard the music from a half-mile away.
Sitting beside Beckett as he drove, I was pressed up against him and the knobby gearshift until I could hardly draw a breath. On my other side Erin and Joshua laughed at the four of us, crammed in Beckett’s truck like circus clowns.
As glad as I was for an excuse to be so near Beckett, my mind kept replaying Erin’s words, her face. But she was wrong. There was nothing wrong with me. Nothing that wouldn’t go away when I found the source of my brother’s last picture, finished my audition piece, and had my acceptance letter in hand from the Conservatory.
But what if Erin told Nora? What if Nora told my mom?
“Here we go.” Beckett parked in between a compact car and another truck on the side of the road, cut the engine, then opened the door. “Saint Flanagan would be glad you’re here, sure he would,” Beckett said as he held out both hands and helped me out. “And so am I, Finley Sinclair.” Handing me my shawl, Beckett leaned toward me. “Is something bothering you tonight?”
“Just a headache.” I forced a smile and pushed back the fear that my sky was falling. “Save me a dance?”
“I’ll be fighting off the lads just to get to you.”
I patted his lapel. “Promise me you won’t bite anyone.”
We stopped by a trailer selling food, and the smell was as strong as the music was loud. I read the limited menu and twisted the necklace at my throat. Not a salad to be had.
“I’ll have the lamb stew and a Coke,” Beckett said. “Finley?”
I don’t know. I don’t know.
I am hungry, but it’s all bad for me. Why can’t they just have some fruit? “Diet Coke and . . . fish and chips, I guess.”
“There you are!” Orla waved with one hand and dragged an unfamiliar teen boy with the other. “Aedan McCourt, these are me friends. Friends, this is Aedan.”
The guy was only as tall as Orla’s nose, his teeth crooked as country fence posts, but Orla seemed captivated by him all the same.
“I had no idea you were taking a date,” Erin said. “You haven’t said a word about it.”
“It was kind of last minute.” Orla looped her arm around Aedan’s. “His date cancelled just hours ago.”
Aedan frowned. “She’s terribly sick. Miserable with food poisoning.”
Orla grinned. “Isn’t it awesome?”
A large event tent sat in front of the school, and at least half the town stood under it. The other half spilled outside and onto the grounds, where fairy lights were strung from tree to tree. As we four carried our food, it was a wonderland we entered, complete with a soundtrack that sang to my frayed nerves as the strains of a fiddle and dueling guitars wove around me.
Beckett opened the door flap and held it for us to step inside.
As long as I lived I would never forget the look on Beatrice Plummer’s face as Erin walked into the dance on Beckett’s arm. The whole room seemed to stop. All the girls under the age of twenty let out a collective squeal and five of them rushed him.
Beckett handled it all with his usual finesse. He signed a few autographs, promised a couple of dances, but then politely told the crowd that he was all Erin’s tonight. And to think at one time I thought he was a world-class jerk.
We sat at a folding table and watched the band.
“That’s your friend Donal Murphy, isn’t it?” I pointed toward the stage, trying to get my mind off my queasy stomach.
“He comes back every year.” Erin grinned as she clapped to the tune. “I think he and Saint Flanagan were mates in the fourteen-hundreds.”
“Well, Beckett.” Beatrice stood behind his chair, her tall, lanky date hovering behind her. “What a surprise to see you here. Without Taylor.”
Beckett’s face tightened, but within a second his easy smile returned. “I’ve never been to a village dance. When I asked Erin if I could join her, I couldn’t believe my luck that she said yes.”
Beatrice’s eyelashes fluttered like angry ant legs. “Really. Is that so?”
“It is.” Beckett rested his arm around Erin’s chair. “But who wouldn’t want to go with Erin? Five minutes after meeting her, I knew she was one of the kindest people I’d ever encountered. So refreshing to find someone with such a genuine heart, don’t you think?” Beckett’s grin never wavered, but his eyes held a warning for Beatrice. “We’ve gotten so close over the last few months, it’s like we’re family. And you know how protective of me family I am.” He laughed and gave Erin a small squeeze. “Anyone who hurt her would have to answer to me for sure. Not that anyone ever would. That would be crazy, sure it would.”
“Totally crazy,” I said, enjoying the color crawling up Beatrice’s neck and the smile glowing on Erin’s face.
“Count me in for the Erin O’Callaghan fan club too.” Joshua Smith reached for a fry on his plate. “Did you know she can recite the entire periodic table?”
“Have a lovely evening, Beatrice.” Beckett turned his back, dismissing her for the night.
Orla watched Beatrice stomp away. “She’s got war on her mind.”
“I can handle her.” Beckett gave me a small smile. “And I can handle me father when she and Taylor run right to him.”
“Thank you,” Erin called over the music. “That was truly nice of all of you.”
“I meant it.” Beckett ladled his spoon into his stew. “I’m grateful for everything you and your parents have done for me. Beatrice needs to know she can’t mess with you.”
“She’ll be back,” I said. “I know that look, and she’s not done yet.”
“Nothing to worry about.” Beckett eyed my untouched plate.
“Not hungry?”
I didn’t even have to look up to know Erin was watching me with the intensity of an international spy. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been too busy talking and taking it all in.”
“Dance with me soon?”
“I don’t know.” I cut my battered fish into small pieces, stacking a few on top of one another and shoving some under my fries. “With the way all the girls are looking at you, I might never get my chance.” I glanced behind us. “Heck, even that big boy in the blue suit over there is watching you like candy.”
“It’s possible I might’ve offered him a slow dance.” Beckett eyed the high schooler who stuffed his mouth with a heaping bite of kraut. “I sometimes get a little free with me promises.”
An hour later I’d taken in so much Diet Coke, my stomach was gurgling. But it didn’t fill the burning from hours without a proper meal, a feeling that gave me a strange charge. And it didn’t relieve the weight in my head. A few bites of fish, three fries. Still probably a five-hundred calorie day. Erin wouldn’t approve. But it was just for today. Tomorrow I’d start over and eat right.
God, I can control this. I can.
“Time to show me your dancing skills.” Orla grabbed her date by the hand. “We’ll see you all in a few hours.” She leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I’ve had a few of those energy drinks. Hope the guitar players can keep up.”
Lured by Donal Murphy’s fine fiddling skills, I let Joshua lead me out into the mad crush of dancers. I had no idea what the proper form was, but my hesitance was soon overridden by Joshua’s unusual windmill arms and his head jerking like an angry ostrich.
A group formed around us as Beckett, Erin, Joshua, and I all danced. And I should’ve been enjoying it. I was a cheerleader for years. This was my thing. I loved dancing, the movement of body and rhythm.
But instead I was worried.
And winded.
Breathing like I’d just run a marathon instead of skipping around to four measly songs, I began to make my way back to the table.
“Hey, I believe you owe me.” Beckett intercepted me as the band shifted to a slow song. I was so tired. Just a little break was all I needed.
But this was Beckett Rush. How often in a lifetime did a guy like this ask a girl like me to dance?
Beckett took my hand, led me back to the floor, and reeled me close to his chest as we danced on the outer edge of the crowd.
“Any luck on my brother’s cross?”
“Not yet. But I’ll find it. I’ve had a few leads, but so far none have been the one.”
“And you’ll keep searching? We can’t give up. My audition is next week and the last few measures of the song are still not finished and I know that cross—”
“Finley, I’ll not be giving up.” He held me tighter, and I squinted against the lights that were suddenly too bright. Pressing my head to Beckett’s chest, I thought to listen to the beat of his heart, but instead found myself closing my eyes against the seasick feeling that washed over me. How much longer was this song going to last?
“Ready to spin?” Beckett asked.
The spots returned before my eyes and I blinked to chase them away. My head fizzed with dizzy air. “No, I don’t think—”
But it was too late. Smiling, he spun me out and my fingers slipped from his before he could pull me back in.
“Finley?” Beckett’s voice came from far away, and I wanted to respond, but my lips wouldn’t move, and my limbs morphed into jelly.
The ground tilted beneath me, and I catapulted straight down. Reaching out blindly, I crashed to the floor.
Where my scene faded to black.