Irish Monkeyshines #OurAuthorGang

photo courtesy of crestmultimedia.com

LUCK O' THE LEPRECHAUN
Originally published in the March edition of the GBBPub Magazine

by Grace Augustine

“I paid ye my money, lad, now give me my pint.”

Aengus McCracken had been coming to this pub well over seven years, the same amount of time John O’Shay had been behind the bar. The man always ordered the same thing, a pint of Guinness, “black as it comes.”

“Aengus, I slid your pint to ye when I took your coin,” John replied.

“Well, lad, I ain’t got no pint.”

Aengus turned to the man sitting to his right, another regular, Conor Callahan, and elbowed him.

“Do ye see a pint in front of me, Callahan? Their ain’t no pint…and I paid for one.”

By now, Aengus was a bit frustrated. The more upset he was, the louder his voice. Soon everyone in the pub was listening to the man ramble on about not having his drink.

John drew another draught and slid it down to Aengus, making sure it hit his hand this time.

“That’s better, lad,” he winked and downed half the glass.

John knew he’d slid a drink down the bar to Aengus, but for the life of him he didn’t know why there was no glass, no evidence of it. He shook his head and continued drawing draughts and pouring whiskey for the patrons.

“Conor, can I top that off for ye?” John asked, the bottle of Tullamore in his hand.

“Never known me turn down a topper, have ya? To the brim with it, lad! Thank ye.”

John poured the rich amber liquor in Conor’s glass, right up to the brim, as asked.

There was quite a ruckus goin’ on, you see. A championship football game was showing on the television. The pub was divided and cheering for their respective teams. The noise level was such it was difficult to hear anything. John learned early on to just carry bottles to his customers and nod. If they nodded back, he refilled their glass…that included pints for Aengus McCracken, too.

Conor turned back to his drink after checking the score. He grabbed his glass and looked at it.  He knew he hadn’t taken a sip from that full glass of whiskey, yet it was nearly gone.

“John, what’s goin’ on, here?”

“I don’t know what to tell ya, Conor. You saw me fill the glass.”

The wee chuckle of a leprechaun was heard in the distance. followed by the whistling of a familiar Irish drinking tune,

And They Danced All Night #OurAuthorGang

Photo courtesy of Fine Art America

AND THEY DANCED ALL NIGHT

By Grace Augustine

The chandeliers throughout the ballroom were sparkling. Each crystal had been buffed with the finest cloth, so the light danced through its many facets. Buffet tables lined with silver chafing dishes held delectable choices including roast duck, pheasant in wine sauce, fresh steamed vegetables, and desserts as far as the eye could see. Rows of champagne glasses stood ready for the servers to fill their trays and offer to the guests.

Yes, tonight was a special night. It was Lord Ashworth’s thirtieth birthday. Rumor had it he would make an important announcement mid-way through the evening. This allowed for rampant chatter throughout the community with suspicions ranging from going to war to taking a bride. All hoped for the latter.

Guests arrived hours early to take in the décor and, of course, with hopes of spending time with Lord Ashworth himself. The wait-staff took cloaks and coats and top hats and gloves and hung them on various racks that were in the ante-room just to the left of the grand hall.

Grant Ashworth greeted his parents at the bottom of the spiral oak staircase. He caught the gleam in his mother’s eye and the smile on his father’s face. He marveled at what was accomplished by them to pull off such a soiree.

“Mother, you look stunning! You, too, Father.”

Genevieve took her son’s arm and allowed him to lead her ahead of her husband. She truly was radiant in the ecru lace and satin ballgown. Her silver hair, piled high on her head, was held in place by a sapphire comb—a family heirloom.

“Are you ready for the evening, Grant? There will be many ladies here wanting to dance with you this evening. You will oblige, yes?”

Grant shook his head and smiled. Leave it to his matchmaker of a mother to bring up the fact of the multiple ladies who would be here helping him celebrate.

“Mother, I will, of course, dance with those I so wish to dance with.”

Grant bowed to his mother and father and made his way into the grand ballroom. Before more guests arrived, he grabbed a plate and placed samples of the food on it. No telling when he would have the chance to eat if he was planning to dance the night away.

More and more people arrived, and each couple was announced as they entered the grand ballroom. Grant hurried to finish the last bite of petit four and made sure there were no crumbs clinging to the corners of his mouth. He greeted his guests with the customary nods and hand kisses.

An hour into the festivities, Grant spotted her across the room. The object of his affection. The object of his attention. He’d done his best to keep this secret, even from his parents, for the past few months.

She was a vision of pure beauty. Her light auburn hair was piled in a messy bun on the crown of her head, stray tendrils framing her face. The lavender and white satin ball gown with a ruffled bustle accentuated her small waist and the cut of the bodice revealed her smooth porcelain skin and ample cleavage. A single strand of pearls encircled her neck.

The current dance ended, and Grant made his way across the room. Passion filled his eyes and a broad smile showed off his dimples.

“May I have this dance?” He questioned as he bowed before his lovely lady.

She nodded, and they waltzed across the dance floor, not wanting the music to stop. They gazed at each other, so much unspoken between them. She curtsied when the dance ended, but Grant wasn’t letting go of her that easily. 

“Excuse me. If I may have your attention, please,” Grant began. “Thank you all  for coming to my birthday celebration this evening. There's plenty of food and drink, so make sure to fill your plates and glasses. Before we return to the music, I have a special announcement.”

Grant’s parents and the other couples gathered around where he was standing. He still held onto the hand of his lovely dance partner.

“Most of you know this lovely woman, and if you don’t, it’s time you do,” he stated. He knelt on one knee before her, and placed an emerald and diamond ring on her gloved finger. “Lady Annabelle Cartwright, would you do me the honor of becoming my wife?”

Tears streamed down the Lady’s cheeks. She was speechless. The only thing she could do was nod her head yes.

Grant stood up and took her in a head to toe embrace and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek. That was enough to cue the chamber orchestra to play. Grant twirled Annabelle around and caught her close to him again, kissing her soft lips. The couple danced every dance, long into the early morning hours, celebrating their love.

“I’ve loved you for so long, Lady Annabelle. What a privilege to know you will be my wife.”

“I’ve loved you, too, Lord Ashworth, most of my life. I’m a lucky lady to have you as my betrothed.”

I'll Meet You at the Footbridge #OurAuthorGang

This story was inspired by a real life journey. I've changed the names and added a bit of imagination. Remember, February--the month of love, is only a few days away!

Photo courtesy of Pinterest

I'LL MEET YOU AT THE FOOTBRIDGE

By Author Grace Augustine

Caitlyn sat down on my lap and snaked her little arms around my neck.  It made me smile to know my great-grandchildren loved spending time with us.

“Tell me again, how you and great grandpa met,” she pleaded.

I pulled her little nine-year-old body closer to me for a hug and kissed her temple.  She knew this story frontwards and backwards, but always had to have me retell it whenever she visited.

“Well, Catie, I wasn’t very good at picking out boys to date. After four years of high school and four years of college, I’d had countless boys that were just terrible.”

Catie nodded her head.

“That’s when you asked great great grandma to fix you up, right?”

I snickered silently at that sentence.  Yes, that is when I had to be fixed up with a date.

“Yes, Catie. My mom and I sat at the kitchen table discussing boys and how most of my friends were married and having children. Then there was me…”

“Yeah, but, you were beautiful, Oma Marie. You still are.”

“Oh, child, thank you. Now, do you want me to finish this story, or are you going to tell it to me?”

“I’ll shut up, Oma Marie,” the little poppet affirmed.

“My mom worked at a factory with a lot of other people. There were some young men there, one in particular, who wasn’t having any luck with dating. So, my mom asked him if he would like to come to dinner. I was mortified! But, I’m the one who told her to find me someone to marry.”

Catie laughed at that. She opened her mouth, but shut it quickly.

“Your Opa Mark knocked on the door of our home and, of course, my mom made me answer the door. There he stood, all six-foot-six of him, dressed to the nines. No words came out of my mouth. I just stared at him. He probably thought I was the biggest loser he’d ever met.  My mom yelled at me to invite him to come in, so I did.

“The dining room table was filled with food, and my two sisters and mom and dad. After dinner, mom suggested that Mark and I go in the living room and get to know each other. We spent the next three hours talking and laughing. When it was time for him to leave, I walked with him to the door. He kissed my cheek and asked when he could see me again.”

I tear up every time I tell this story to sweet Caitlyn. I hugged her closer to me as I thought of my darling, Mark. He is the best thing that ever happened to me. I constantly thank my mother in Heaven for introducing us.

“This is where Opa Mark asks you to meet him at the bridge, right?” Caitlyn’s head bobbed, as did her blonde curls.

“Yes, honey, this is where Opa Mark and I met at the bridge. Every time we met, we met at the bridge before we went out on our dates. Three months into our relationship, Opa Mark asked me to marry him,right there, standing in the middle of the bridge... and I said yes. Each year on our anniversary, we walk the length of that bridge, always stopping for a kiss in the very spot he proposed  and remember that special night. Tomorrow, we will be married fifty-five years.”

“Oma Marie! That’s a very long time! I wonder if my Momma will pick my husband.”

“Oh, Catie, you have years before you have to worry about that. Enjoy your time growing up. When it’s time for that special boy in your life, I’m sure you will have many knocking on your door.”

“But, I don’t want many. I just want one. I want one that is as special as Opa Mark,” Catie stated. “You love Opa Mark a whole lot, don’t you?”

“I love Opa Mark with all of who I am, honey.”

“Are you going to the bridge tomorrow? Can I come?”

I smiled down at my oldest great grandchild. She was so much like her grandmother and her mother with a bit of me mixed in there for good measure.

“Yes, Opa Mark and I will walk down that bridge tomorrow. We must do that. It’s tradition. And, Catie, no, you can’t go with us tomorrow. But, whatcha say to us doing it another day? We’ll get ice cream.”

Catie’s eyes grew large at the thought of ice cream. Again, her arms were around my neck and she kissed my cheek.

“I love you Oma Marie, and Opa Mark, and I love that bridge, too.”