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Post by maureenj on Jul 9, 2009 2:05:56 GMT -5
You've never really been a huge fan of European football, but when your good friend gets tickets to the final game of Six Nations, to be played in Ireland, it's not something you could pass up. So here you are, sitting near the Irish goal as the last minutes of the game are played out, on the edge of your seat, cheering madly. The teams are both top-notch and the score is tied as the last minute starts to count down. 60. 59. 58.
Looks like England's got the ball! They're headed your way! 47. 46. 45. Back pass! Dodge left! Pass left! Number 32 is taking the shot! You're on your feet, holding your breath as you watch what may be the final goal of the game. It looks like a perfect shot!
But no!!! The Irish goalkeeper makes a spectacular save, twisting in mid-air to get the ball to his teammates. 23. 22. 21. The Irish race back down the field toward the unprepared English goalie. 8. 7. 6. Irish number 9 has the ball lined up. He feints a kick left! Passes right to his teammate number 30! It's a solid kick... 3. 2. 1.
The ball catches in the top left corner of the net! It's a win for Ireland! As the crowd errupts cheering around you, you watch as they pour down onto the field and lift the blonde haired number 30 onto their shoulders to parade down to the nearest pub in celebration. Something holds you back from going along, however, and you sit back down in the front row in order to catch your breath and think for a moment. You close your eyes and listen to the quiet roar in the distance, when suddenly a shadow falls over you.
You open your eyes to see striking blue eyes framed with the softest-looking black hair you have ever seen on a man. He's wearing a crooked grin which only grows as you continue to stare into his eyes. Finally, he cocks his head and says, "Looking into my soul, are ya lass?" At this, you can't help blushing and look away, only to realize that you two are the only ones left on the deserted pitch. After a few moments, you hear the man click his tongue and say, "Well, now. This won't do at all." With that, he slips his hand under your chin and turns you face back to meet his. He is so gentle as he does so that it's almost a caress.
Meeting his eyes again, you realize that they are just as striking on second view as they were at first. Time seems to pause as you stare at each other again, only resuming it's forward march when you realize you can hold your breath no longer without passing out. Your cheeks pinkening again, you take in a deep gulp of air, only to make a slight face as you smell something you can't quite put your finger on. The man, who has yet to look away from your face, grimaces mildly at this. "Sorry about that. I was headed over to get my bag and hit the showers when I saw you sitting over here." It is only at this point that you realize that the man standing before you is the Irish goal keeper that saved the game for his team just moments before. Shaking your head, you realize he's been talking whilst you were wool-gathering. "...wait for me? I'd like the pleasure of walking you down to the celebration..." He says this last in a quieter voice, as though a little shy. Unable to speak, you nod your agreement and he dashes off to the building to your right that you assume contains the showers, stopping only briefly to snatch up his bag.
While you wait, your mind goes back to the scent you caught before he dashed away. It was not unpleasant; rather, it could almost become addicting, what with how it contained something that just shouted manliness, with the most miniscule underlying hint of sweat. You are so caught up in pondering this that you don't notice your friend approaching till she sits down beside you and says, "So, what are you doing out here? I looked for you at the party, but no one had seen you since the match ended." After jumping out of your skin at the start she gave you, you start trying to come up with the words to explain your actions. Only problem is, none of the pertinent words seem to respond to your frantic efforts to recall them.
While you're trying to chivy your thoughts into some kind of coherant and explainable order, you catch another marvelous smell and your mouth immediately stops even the appearance of working. Turning, you see that the source is once more none other than the Irish goalie, now jogging over to you, a relieved look on his face. "Oh, good! You're still here! I'm so sorry for that, I lost track of time since I don't have a waterproof watch." He blushes a little at this, and clears his throat self-conciously.
You sit there stunned for a moment before your friend extends her hand to him and introduces herself, as you "seem to be incapable of speech" at the moment. He smiles and his whole face seems to shine as he replies. "The pleasure is all mine. Your friend here was kind enough to wait for me while I got presentable. Would like to join us walking down to the pub? I'm Ryan, by the way." You shoot your friend a pleading look as you find yourself still unable to string together two words, even if those two words are your own name. She takes pity on you and does the introductions. "Well, my dear," he says as he turns to you and offers his hand. "Shall we?" You swallow hard and place your hand in his and he practically lifts you onto your feet. A thrill shoots through you when, instead of releasing your hand, he tucks it into his elbow. Together, you turn, and with your friend on your other side, make the short walk down to the pub.
When you walk in, it is as though you've hit a wall of sound, what with all the celebrating going on. Your friend slips off to chat with some friends while you look around. You spot the rest of the team off to one side and assume that Ryan's going to get you a table and then go to join them. Instead, he surprises you and leads you over and introduces you to his teammates. He takes some mild ribbing on his penchant for showers with a good grace and talk quickly turns back to the last play of the game. Finally finding your voice, you comment, "That was one of the most spectacular saves I've ever seen, Ryan."
He turns to you, startled at hearing your voice for the first time, and flushes a little with pleasure as your words register. Further, your words fall into one of those natural pauses in a group, when everyone stops to take a breath at the same time. The team errupts into congratulations to him, as they suddenly realize that without his marvelous save, they would be the ones having a quiet dinner at home, rather than the English. Grinning at all the attention, Ryan surreptitiously slips his hand into yours and gives it a slight squeeze of thanks. You shift just a little in your seat, pleased that he does not reclaim his hand, but continues to hold yours loosely while chatting with the lads.
A short time later, after the team has gone back to analyzing the game in general, with the aid of some liquid relaxation, of course, Ryan leans over and whispers in your ear. His warm breath against the side of your face is so mesmerizing that you almost forget to answer him. "Sure. I'd love to go for a breath of air with you, Ryan." You both stand and start for the door, but one of the other patrons spots him and raises a shout. "Ryan, lad! You're not thinking of leaving without giving us our song, are ye now, lad?!" Ryan glances at you apologetically and responds, "Why, o'course not Farmer Connelly! Whatever gave you the notion!" Everyone in the pub starts cheering and Ryan is quickly set up with a spot at the bar where all can see him.
A hush falls over the crowd and a guitar is found and passed to him. He offers the owner a grin of thanks and quickly checks that it's in tune. It is. You're a bit surprised at the request and at how quickly the atmosphere changed as Ryan took his place. You watch closely as he begins the opening notes to what is obviously a well-known and loved song, judging by the happy expressions of the people around you. And you must admit, even if only to yourself, that you are captivated by the way his hands move on the neck of the guitar, holding firmly enough to create smooth tones, but loosely enough that the strings don't squeak when he changes positions. Then, he begins to sing.
It's not the rough, broken voice that you were half-way expecting, but instead a liquid flow of melody with the slightest hint of a husky undertone that makes your bones shiver in excited pleasure. The people around you are clapping and dancing and singing along, but you have ears only for his music. When the song ends, the disappointment is so great is like an electric shock. But instead of handing the guitar back to the owner, he looks right at you, and begins a much slower song with a very poignant chorus about mending a broken heart. You just know, without being told, that this is a personal compostition of his and that he's singing for you and you alone this night. You smile at him as the song ends, and he laughs delightedly before he calls out, "Last one for the night, y'all!" The disappointment around you is obvious, but no one complains, instead settling down to enjoy the song they know is coming. As Ryan's voice lifts in song, describing the town around you, you look around at all the happy faces present and think to yourself that this is a place that you could easily come to call home.
Ryan ends the song, returns the guitar, and walks over to where you're standing, accepting congratulations and thanks from those he passes on the way. He takes your hand again, and you resume your exit, this time making it out the door. "Well, look at that!" he says. "We're just in time to walk down to the park and enjoy the sunset." Smiling, you nod, and together you head in that direction as it's only a short distance away. When you reach it, Ryan seems to know exactly where he's going, as he leads you to a lovely little wrought-iron bench with a spectacular view of the clouds. "I often come here when I need some space to think." You nod in agreement. It is a very lovely location, seemingly secluded, but actually near the heart of town. You sit together in silence, his arm wrapped around your shoulders for warmth and simply enjoy the sunset and each other's company.
After a bit, you think to yourself that you should be getting back to your room before your friend calls out the Irish equivalent of the National Guard, but you feel no inclination to move just yet, instead leaning your head on his shoulder and sighing in contentment. Suddenly you hear a burst of the lovliest melody right overhead. You jump, but before you can make a noise, a calloused finger is resting gently over your lips. "Don't be afeared lass. It's just a nightingale. You wouldn't want to be scaring her, now would ye?" He asks. The husky tone in his voice is more apparent now than it was before, the tiny part of your brain that deals with onjective thought notes. You shake your head the slightest bit and the finger disappears.
You sit together, enjoying the song for a while longer until the bird falls silent of her own accord. Ryan looks over at you. "Now, wasn't that one of the most beautiful things you've ever heard on God's earth?" Slightly misty-eyed, you agree as you both stand and stretch a little to get the blood flowing again. Ryan looks as though he's going to say something several times, but stays silent while you're stretching. When you both feel able to walk smoothly and easily again, he swallows hard and turns to face you directly. "May I walk you home?" The manner in which he asks suggests to you that he most often hears a negative response to this question, and your heart breaks for him, just a little. You quietly answer, "I'd love it if you would." and his face lights up with a smile to break hearts far harder than yours has ever been. He takes your hand, bows over it, and once again tucks it into his elbow. The place that you're staying is not far, to your dismay, and you arrive at the doorstep all too soon.
Not wanting him to leave just yet, you delay, fiddling with your keys and exchanging long pauses with him. Finally, he turns to face you directly once again, keeping hold of your hand as he does so. "My lady, this day has been purest pleasure for me, and I wonder it you would consent to grace me with your company tomorrow as well?" Smiling wider than you thought possible, you blush and give your consent. His smile is the most brilliant you've yet seen as he sweeps a courtly bow over your hand, turns it over, and, looking up at you through long, thick eyelashes, proceeds to place a gentle kiss in your palm. "Until tomorrow, then" he says as he releases your hand and starts to back down the walk. Curling your fingers to cup the kiss he just gave you, you wave good bye with the other hand and slowly open the door and slip inside. What a day! You decide to head to bed quickly in order that tomorrow come all the sooner.
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Post by maureenj on Jul 10, 2009 3:40:02 GMT -5
Part 2
Hmmm. The first thing that you notice is that you're comfortably warm. There's something soft under your hand and you have absolutely no inclination of opening your eyes. Somewhere nearby a bird is singing a pleasant melody. You shift onto your other side, only to have the sunlight fall onto your face. You bring up your hand to block out the light, then sit bolt upright, the soft blankets you were lying under now pooling in your lap. The sun's shining in your window! As memories of the night before run through your mind in a rush, you hurriedly get out of bed. You move so quickly that you barely even notice how icy the floor seems after the warm bed.
You rush into the bathroom and turn on the shower so it can heat up while you choose what to wear. You go over to the closet and start looking through all the outfits you brought with you, discarding one after the other, not satisfied with any of them. You're just about ready to scream with frustration when your friend comes in, wincing at how the bright sunlight is streaming in. "What's with all the ruckus? You'd think the world was ending the way you're going on." You quickly stop to explain your dilemma. "Okay, so let me make sure I have this straight. You agreed to hang out with Ryan Kelly, the Irish goal keeper today, but you don't know what time he's coming, what you're doing, and you don't have anything to wear. Is that right?" You nod, a little abashed at how it sounds when layed out like that. "Well, let me just get some aspirin and we'll get you as straightened out as possible. You go get in the shower." You duck your head and go to do as she says.
You enjoy the warm water, especially on a day like today, where the sun is shining but Ireland is just as cool and wet as it usually is in July. When you finish, you go back into the bedroom, determined to choose something and be done with it, only to see an outfit already laid out for you on the bed. You go over to investigate, mentally praising your friend and promising to nominate her for sainthood. As you look closer, you find that she's laid out a sturdy pair of black jeans (one of your favourite pairs as you can dress them up or down and you have often recieved compliments on them), a navy blue knit turtleneck that has a lovely sheen to it, a cream sweater vest that was a gift on your last birthday, and your long, old-fashioned driving jacket. The look is completed with the blue and silver scarf that rests ontop of a note. Once you're finished dressing, save for jacket and scarf, you take a closer look at the note.
It reads, "Ryan called (and how he got this number I have no clue), and said that he'd be over about 11 and to be prepared to do "a bit of walking." Hope you don't mind my choosing an outfit for you. Have a great time, and I'll see you tonight." At this, you go to look at your watch, only to realize you haven't put it on yet. You step over to the night stand, shiver at the draft of cold air that hits your bare feet, and pick up your watch. It's half past 10, so you hurriedly strap on your watch, sit down on the edge of the bed and pull on some warm socks, and head back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. You decide to take Ryan's message as a bit of a hint, and pull your hair back into a low ponytail that will be easy to redo if need be, and only apply a light layer of make-up. You check your watch again. 10:56. Where does the time always go when you're getting ready!? You go back into the bedroom and decide to wear your comfortable, but stylish boots that you bought just before you left home. Just as you're moving over to the bed to put them on, you hear a knock on the door.
Your first thought is "He's early!" but when you glance at your watch on your way over to the door, it reads 11:00 on the dot. You quickly open the door and are stunned once again at the sight of him. He's leaning against the wall, and as you open the door, you are once again blessed with one of his brilliant smiles. "G'Morning. I see you got my message." He glances down at the boots still clutched loosely in your hand. "Looks like you need another minute or two, though. May I come in?" Speechless once again, you nod and open the door a bit further, backing out of his way. He enters, gently takes the door from you, closes it gently and guides you to a seat. A bit embarassed, you offer a smile that he returns, and a mischevious twinkle enters his eyes.
Those eyes! You could look into them forever and never be bored. While you contemplate this fact, he takes your boots from your hands and kneels down in front of you. You are puzzled by this until he slips his left hand behind your right heel and brings your foot up to rest on his thigh. He quickly looks at your boots and selects the one that goes on this foot while you gape at him and start to blush. He quickly slides it on and begins to lace it up with a look of concentration. When he reaches the top of the boot, which falls mid-calf, he looks back up at you and asks, "Too tight?" You somehow manage to find your voice and reply, "No, you're... that's perfect." He grins again, secures the laces and begins on the other boot.
You are captivated watching him, so much so that it almost totally eclipses your embarassment that someone else is tying your shoes for you. You've never seen someone move so gracefully, yet with such strength in every movement. He again checks the fit of the boot with you before finishing with it, though this time you merely nod that it fits. Rising smoothly to his feet, he draws you up to join him. "So, are you ready to head out for the day?" he asks? You smile back at him at say, "Now I am!" He throws back his head and laughs at this. It's a rich, deep laugh that falls smoothly on the ear, much like his singing voice, and is very contagious. You feel the heat rising in your cheeks again at the thought of the song he sang to you last night, as you join your laughter with his. A few moments later your laughter slowly fades away and you wipe your eyes. "It's been a long time since I've laughed like that," he says. "Thank you." "You look up at him through lowered lashes. "Me too, so thank you!' At this he laughs again, and taking your hand, leads you over to the door, only pausing long enough to let you slip into your jacket.
He quickly opens it and offers a courtly bow. "After you, my lady." You grin and playfully curtsy back. "Why thank you, kind sir." You step out into the hall where he joins you and after closing the door, offers his arm. You take it and together you go out to the front lawn where a well-maintained sedan waits by the front walk. You walk up to it and Ryan opens the door and hands you into the passenger seat before walking around to take the wheel. As you pull away from the curb, you ask, "So, where are we going?" "I'd wanted to make sure that you'd have the opportunity to do all you could whilst here in Ireland, so I thought we'd take a short drive into Tyrone." You smile at his thoughtfulness and lean over to kiss his cheek, only to jerk back as he swerves to avoid a stray sheep in the road. You listen, mildly amused at his creativity, as he verbally abuses the farmer who let their sheep wander into the road unchecked.
The remainder of the drive is uneventful and soon you are cruising down what looks to be a main street looking for a place to park. You quickly find one and he once more acts the gentleman, coming around and opening the door for you before you have a chance to touch it. Getting out, you look around. It is a beautiful city. The architecture is nothing like you've ever seen anywhere else and the verdant green of the landscaped areas contrastsin such a way as to be indescribable. Your hand on his arm again, you and Ryan begin to stroll down the street as you imagine many other couples over the centuries must have done. You walk slowly looking in the windows of the shops you pass, stopping occasionally to comment on something you see or to let others pass by. You stop once at a sidewalk vendor's cart where Ryan buys you one of the most beautiful flowers you've ever seen. He turns to face you and gently pins it in your hair with a clip pro-offered by the vendor. While he does so, he whispers in your ear, "beauty to compliment a greater beauty."
Shortly after this, you stop at a corner bakery where Ryan orders meat pies for you both. Once served, you continue to walk along nibbling as the mood takes you. You decide that this is one of the best, if not the best thing you've had to eat since you arrived in Ireland. The afternoon proceeds in much the same manner, with a few stops to purchase trinkets and souveniers. As the sun begins to near the horizon, you walk back to the car, sighing in contentment at a fun day spent in wonderful company. When you reach the car, you quickly load your purchases into the back seat and move up to get in. Ryan again opens the door for you before getting in himself and the drive back is blessedly uneventful.
Upon reaching the place you're staying, Ryan walks you up to the door and in a manner very remniscient of the night before, both of you linger, not wanting to say farewell. After a few moments of awkward silence, you both begin to speak at the same time. "Well, I guess..." "Before you go..." You both stop and look at each other before breaking out into laughter that dissolves the tension. Ryan motions to you to speak, but you shake your head and say, "No. You first." He shrugs and grins. "If my lady insists." He pauses and sticks his hands into his coat pockets. "Before I leave tonight, I have something I want to give you. Would you close your eyes and turn around?" You give him a questioning look but do as he asks.
You feel his breath on your neck as he steps up behind you and the brush of his hands against your shoulders as he fastens something around your neck and steps back. "Can I look now?" You ask. "Yes." You look down to see a detailed charm done all in silver and give him a questioning look. "It the patron saint of our city. She is said to bring the wearer protection and luck." You look down at it again, marveling at the workmanship. "Thank you." You say as you lean in and brush a kiss on his cheek. "I will treasure her." You can see the pleased look on his face as you say that before he pulls you in for a tight hug and drops a kiss onto the crown of your head. "I'm glad. Until tomorrow?" You nod against him. "Tomorrow." Before gently slipping out of his arms and into the building, where you know your friend is waiting to question you about your time together. Just before the door blocks out all view of him, he blows you a kiss, which you know you will cherish along with the flower and memories for many years to come.
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Post by maureenj on Jul 30, 2009 1:23:17 GMT -5
And here is another chapter for you. Hope it live up to your expectations...
You crack a massive yawn and reach above your head, stretching to help return circulation to your hands after sleeping on them all night. Your friend had kept you up well past midnight with her very pointed questions and you are determined to be ready by the time Ryan gets here today. It's Sunday, so you're not certain if he'll be meeting you before or after attending church. In any case, you're determined to attend at least one service before you return home, so you get out a long-sleeved deep green velveteen dress that falls to mid calf and a pair of low black heels and lay them out before getting yourself clean and fully woken-up. Once dressed, you go to check on your friend and see if she still wants to come along, only to find her still in dreamland. You don't have the heart to wake her as she has you so many times before, besides the fact that you don't know where to go for ice, so you quietly close the door and leave her to her z's. As you step back into your own room (your room and hers are connected through the bathroom), you hear a knock on your door. Suddenly grateful that you are dolled up, you go to answer the door.
The first thing that flashes through you is disappointment that it's not Ryan at the door, when you look through the peephole in the door. Instead, a woman, looking to be in her mid-thirties, stands there looking bored. Struck with insatiable curiosity, as you are certain that you have never seen her before, you step back and open the door. "Hi. Can I help you?" The woman's eyes immediately snap to yours, and you see the sparkle come to life in them as she smiles. "I sure hope you can. I'm looking for," She looks down at a paper that was previously hidden from sight before reading off a name. "I don't suppose you can direct me to her?" You smile brightly, but just a little warily. "That would be me. Can I help you?"
You watch, mildly amused, as the woman visibly relaxes. "Thank God! Your's is the fifth door I've knocked on in here... I was afraid I was going to be late to church!" She takes a deep breath and takes on a business-like attitude. "Okay... I need you to sign here, please for reciept of the order..." She hands you a clipboard and a pen from the small bag hanging at her side.You take it from her and start looking at the page, only to realize that you have no idea what it is that you are signing for. "Um... I don't suppose you can tell me what this is all about?" The woman looks startled for a moment, then mutters half to herself. "Oh, that's right... you're not from around here..." She clears her throat, a little self-conciously. "I'm sorry. Please, let me start over... I am Niamh, and I own a little shop on the square. A certain young gentleman called me early this morning and asked if he could stop by during his morning run. Now, I've known this young man for many a year, and this is the first time he's ever asked me for such a favour. How could I say no? So, I met him at my shop and..." She glances at her watch, "Lordy me! Look at the time! Will you accept the delivery?"
Still a little confused, but willing to believe that she was doing right by you, you sign the paper and hand the clipboard back to her. "Alright, thank thee very much." She carefully stows the clipboard away again and withdraws a small plastic container from the bag. This she hands to you, along with a small notecard taped to the top. "I'll just be on my way, then, and 'twas a right pleasure meeting you." She starts to turn away, and although you are near dying of curiosity about what you hold, you turn you attention to her first. "One quick question, if you don't mind, Niamh? Where is the nearest chapel?" She slows and turns, but continues on her way out. "That'd be the Saint's Cathedral, and if you want to make it in time, ye'd best be leaving right quick. It's just a short ways down the street from here and off to the right." As she finishes, she turns the corner and is lost to sight.
You are left standing in the open doorway holding a little plastic box with a notecard taped to the top. What is a girl to do? You walk quickly back into your rooms, and carefully set the box down on the table before removing the notecard. You open it carefully and read it quietly to yourself. "I hope you like these, they reminded me of you. I'll meet you this afternoon, about 2, at the park bench I showed you that first night. XXX, Ryan" Your curiosity reaches new heights as you finish and you reach for the box to find out what he sent, only to nearly jump our of your skin as your friend suddenly speaks from right behind you. "Oh! How sweet! What did he send you?" You instinctively swing around to face her as she speaks, and you clutch your chest for a moment while you try to calm your breathing back down to a reasonable level. Once you're in less danger of passing out, you give her a mild glare, and answer. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to sneak up on people?!? And I was just about to find out when you scared the living daylights out of me." Her eyes sparkling and showing no remorse what-so-ever, your friend simply smiles, motions toward the little box and says, "Well, go on then! I'm dying to know what it is!" You shoot her one more glare and pick up the little box.
You discover upon examining it closer, that it is of the variety that snaps together along one side. You take a deep breath and pop the snaps open, only to pause. "What are you waiting for?!" Your friend cries out. "What did he send you?" Pleased with the pleading tone you now hear in her voice, you are satisfied that your revenge for the fright has been carried out. You breathe deeply once more, close your eyes and flip the box open, upon which you hear your friend's sharp intake of breath. A little nervous now, you open your eyes. You now understand the care that Niamh took with the box, for lying inside is a lovely spray of flowers. The center of it is a single red rose bud, barely starting to open, surrounded with white baby's breath and framed with 3 lovely blue salvia. You are speechless for a moment as you simply stare at the little spray, which has been arranged as a boutineer. You shoot a pleading glance at your friend and smile a little as she starts breathing again. She gently turns you to face her, takes it from the box, and helps you pin it on. As she does, you shoot her a pleading look, which she correctly interprets as a request for the meaning. Unlike you, she is well versed in the language of flowers, as it is practically a requirement to know growing up with florists as parents.
When she is finished pinning it she takes a step back and gently touches the red rose bud in the center. "You are probably familiar with this one already, as most people are, but just to reitterate, this one stands for purity and loveliness. The baby's breath you probably know as well, "at this you give a sligh nod, but she continues. "In any case, it indicates everlasting love, which is why it is so often used in wedding bouquets. But this one, this one is much less well known." She indicates the blue flowers framing the whole. "This is blue salvia, which means the sender thinks of you. The way it is arranged adds to the meaning. I think the message being sent here is pretty clear. It says that the sender has a pure and everlasting love for you." You are having trouble catching your breath at this point, then she says, in all seriousness. "I think you've found yourself a keeper, eh?" The tone in which she says it causes you both to burst out in sudden deep belly laughs. When they finally subside, you tenderly touch the spray once more and then take a glance at your watch. "Oh, darn it all! I've got to run, or I won't make it to the service!" Your friend immediately grabs your wrap and helps you into it before shooing you out the door.
You walk quickly and make it to the cathedral just as the organ begins to play. You quickly take a seat at the back and pay close attention as the service starts. When the officiating priest calls for people to come forward to recieve the holy Eucharist, you watch as everyone in the pews slowly makes their way forward. It is almost your turn to stand and go forward when it happens. You spot Ryan at the front just as he turns to return to his seat. Your eyes meet and you can see his breath catch as you simply stare across the room at one another. Then it is your turn to move forward and the moment ends. You obediantly follow instructions and return to your seat in a semi-daze. The remainder of the service passes in a haze as your mind, for all intents and purposes, has suspended all functions. It seems only seconds have passed when you hear the priest say the final benediction and dismiss the congregation. You remain in your seat, hoping to catch your breath as the people begin to file out, greeing the priest on their way out. You catch sight of Niamh at one point and wave as she grins pointedly at the flowers you wear.
By the time the church is nearly empty, you come to the conclusion that it is probably safe to attmept to gain your feet once again. You do so, and join the last of the congregation filing out. When it is your turn to greet the priest, you introduce yourself and explain how you came to be in Ireland. He shakes your hand warmly and gives you welcome. You speak briefly together, and as you prepare to say your final farewells, who should stroll up beside you but the man who has been occuping your thougts and time so much these last few days. The priest greets him warmly as well, and starts to introduce you when Ryan smiles and says, "We've met." The priest grins back at him and simply says, "It's about time, boy!" You are a little confused, but dismiss it as you make your final farewells, and walk out to the street.
You stop briefly to admire the old building. They just don't make them like that anymore. Then Ryan slips his hand into yours and he is once more the focus of your full attention. "So, couldn't wait until 2, could you?" he asks playfully. You respond in all seriousness. "Ryan, I had no idea this was your church! It is simply beautiful, though, and I'm happy to see you." He chuckles, and asks, "Could you not tell I was teasing you, lass?" At this you blush just the smallest amount, and change the topic. "Thank you for the flowers. They are lovely and I'll always treasure them." His face lights up with a smile like no other you've yet seen. "I'm glad. So, since you're already here, how about catching lunch at the local cafe? I'd planned to picnic, but we can save that for another day instead." You agree and together you share stimulating coversation over a delightful meal. When it comes time to take care of the check, Ryan immediately insists on covering it, overriding all your protests. "It was my idea to come. Would you deny me the pleasure of buying things for such a lovely lady-o?" You have no response to that, and so decide to cut your losses.
You spend the afternoon walking in the park and seeing the picturesque downtown area, content to enjoy the moment and the company that has chosen you. As it approaches the conventional dinner hour, Ryan reluctantly accompanies you back to your door, explaining apologetically that he has family plans that cannot be altered. You smile and shoo him away, only to be surprised when he steps forward and pulls you into a tight embrace. "Thank you" he whispers before dropping a kiss on the top your head. He steps back and takes your hand. "I have an engagement tomorrow evening, and I wonder if I might have the honor of your company once again. It will be rather classy, but should be very enjoyable..." He pauses uncertainly, and you do not hesitate to reassure him that you would be happy to go with him. At your words, his expression completely changes and that brilliant smile once again lights up your world. "Then, in that case, I shall have to bid you adieu, that tomorrow may come all the sooner." He leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your cheek, steps back again, and drops another in the hand he still holds. "Sweet dreams, God bless." "And to you," you manage to reply through the heat wave obscuring your vision. You slip inside, eyes locked with his until the door comes between you. You eat a quick meal with your friend, answering questions while you do so and quickly make your way to bed, where you drift away in dreams of sparkling blue eyes.
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Post by maureenj on Sept 13, 2009 19:57:40 GMT -5
Okay, if everything works out as I hope, the pace will change from here on out. In light of that, I will make you wait no longer, and will update as I get each new scene written, instead of posting a day at a time. This is where I am beginning to get a little stuck, so any comments are appreciated.
You spend the day doing all the fun little things you had anticipated boring you to tears when contemplating them back at home. You'd had no idea at the time, just how long you could spend contemplating a single plant. nor how very different ancient ruins could be from one another. And natural formations? You'll never again say that if you've seen one, then you've seen them all. Ireland has done wonders for relieving your skepticism. Your friend takes you to all the hot spots in the area, including a few that you are certain are as far as you can get from the tourist tracks, before you sit down for lunch in a classy little cafe. As you enjoy an Ulster Fry, a short time later, talk turns to your plans for the evening. Upon finding out what you plan to wear, your friend gives you such a pitying look that you relent in the midst of laughter and allow her to plan the rest of the afternoon.
Your first stop after lunch is a beautiful boutique in Tyrone that you had walked by with Ryan. At that point you had longed to be let loose in there, as the gowns were so beautiful, but you had refrained, having no reason to contemplate purchasing one. Now, you are like a child in a candy shop, and you blissfully explore, looking for the perfect item while your friend sits back and laughs. Very quickly, you go through the stock, and though there are many beautiful garments you'd love to own, nothing is standing out as the perfect one for this evening. You are near tears when an attendant discovers the reason behind your presence in the store and goes into the back, only to return with a garment bag moments later. As she opens it, explaining that it is a one of a kind piece, and thus not on general display, you hold your breath.
When the dress is revealed, all that air comes hissing out quietly and you know in the depths of your heart that this dress was made for you to wear tonight. It is a brilliant red satin with a black sheer overlay, making it appear a deep burgundy, with black velvet trim and black crystal accents giving it an indescribable air of luxury. Your eyes shine and you can hardly bear to touch it, as you ask for permission to try it on. Permission granted, your friend follows you to a changing area and zips and laces you in. It is cut tight to the body at the top, with a built-in bodice that resembles a corset, only not quite so long. The ties lace behind you, just under the level of your bust, and the black sheer sleeves just barely cup your shoulders. You realize that the sleeves are there mainly for show, and could just as easily be pushed off to fall around your upper arms, but you prefer them up, forming more of a vertical line with the dress to give yourself as much of an illusion of greater height as possible. The skirt is full, cut at an angle, and falls to mid-calf in front and to just below the ankles in the back. When you step out to see how it moves and to find a mirror, you discover that you absolutely adore the way the skirt flows with your movement. It swirls around you, but doesn't fly up, as so many full skirts have a tendency to do when the wearer turns too quickly.
You turn again and let out as free a laugh as has rarely been heard from you. You know your cheeks are flushed and you are grinning like an idiot, but it doesn't bother you for once, as you stop facing the helpful attendant. She stands there silently looking you over, and you think you can see a slight shimmer in her eyes. "That dress was made for you. 15 years we've had it here, with naught a one person that fit into it correctly. But you..." her voice trails off. You give her a startled and questioning look, but she simply gestures in a direction behind and slightly to the right of you. You turn and walk that way to stand before the mirror. When you see yourself, your jaw drops and your eyes fill with tears. You'd never imagined you could look like such a princess. You turn back around, look at your friend, who gives you a slight nod, and, filled with determination, you face the attendant. "What will you take for this?"
From that point on, the afternoon disappears into a blur. You make a whirlwind visit to the spa, visit a hair salon where part of your long tresses are twisted into an elegant up-do and part is styled to fall perfectly over your shoulders, and before you know it, you are back in your rooms, changing into that marvelous dress. You are amazed again at how you look in it, and are standing before the mirror for the countless time that evening when the knock at the door comes. This time, your friend answers it and you hear Ryan's voice as you take several deep breaths to calm and prepare yourself for his reaction. Within seconds, you turn and open the door, stopping in the doorway when you see him. He is spendidly dressed in a black suit, which by some miracle, is accessorized with a burgundy vest and boutonniere. You stand there, stunned, as he turns to greet you and his expression is everything you have ever hoped to see in a man looking at you, and more. Feeling eminently female, you take another deep breath and step out to meet him by the door, his eyes following you every step of the way.
To be continued soon, hopefully...
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Post by maureenj on Oct 16, 2009 1:39:16 GMT -5
Okay. Sorry this has taken so long again. My goal was to finish it by STORM, and obviously that hasn't happened. However, I did get some writing down while I was there, so not a total miss. Anywho, this scene is not quite done with, but I'm crashing and feeling a wee bit guilty over how long this is taking, so enjoy what I have so far. As always, constructive criticism very welcome. On with the show!
As you reach his side, your friend gently nudges his arm and you can hear his breath rush out on a soft "Wow." That simple word, combined with the look he is still giving you, totally negates all your mental preparation and you find yourself blushing and ducking your head a little. Before you realize it, you are babbling. "Do you like it? I know it's a bit out of fashion... I hope that won't be an issue at your event..." You know it's a bad habit, but it comes out most times when you get nervous. This time, however, you manage to stop the flow of words as Ryan shakes his head in disbelief. "I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about. You are breathtaking. I will be the most envied man there tonight, not to mention the luckiest. Let me look at you." So saying, he gently takes your hands and draws you a couple of steps away from the door and into the middle of the room. There, he proceeds to have you turn slowly around several times, while he continues to mutter compliments in a low voice.
The huskiness you noticed the first night is back in full force, and you can't help the pleasant shivers that run down your spine as you listen to him. After a few turns, you fall still facing him, eyes locked with one another's. As the tension builds, and you start to step together, you are suddenly reminded of where you are when your friend clears her throat. You both turn to face her, and though blushing, she asks, "What time does that event start, Ryan?" He surprises you by pulling out a gorgeous pocket watch and growls low in his throat. "Too soon. It's time to leave now." As he tucks the watch back away, your friend hurries over with your lacy black wrap, you check the straps on your shoes, and take one last deep breath. Then you are out the door, down the walk, and being handed into Ryan's car. After Ryan gets in, pulls away from the curb, and it appears you are well on your way, you ask. "So, Ryan... What is this big event? You never did say..."
The silence in the car for the next few moments is deafening. When you can bear it no longer, you turn to look at him, and find him glancing at you with a mischievous glint in his eye and a grin lighting up his face. "We'll be there in just a few minutes. How about I let you be surprised?" You pout a little, but smile to yourself when you're sure his attention is on the road and he isn't looking at you. You love pleasant surprises. And sure enough, it's only a few minutes later that you are slowing down and cruising to a stop in front of a building that looks vaguely familiar. As you study the architecture, Ryan exchanges places with a young man who opened the door for him and walks around to your door. Ever the gentleman, he opens the door and extends his hand to assist you out. You take his hand and step out to a ringing cheer. Stunned, and suddenly very self-conscious, you are grateful when Ryan tucks your hand into his elbow and begins escorting you down the walk and into the building. You'd had no idea; never even dreamed!, that when he said "rather classy" he was talking about a red-carpet event!
It takes much longer than you expect to enter the building, due to Ryan's willingness to stop and shake hands with and accept congratulations from the people lining the carpet on either side. It doesn't take you long to figure out what is, what must be, going on, as everyone is talking exclusively about the game you saw a few days ago. When you finally get inside and are waiting to be seated, you decide to ask the big question that everyone outside seemed to want to ask, but didn't. "So, Ryan... Are you getting an award tonight?" He looks startled as he glances at you briefly before his gaze returns to the podium at the front of the room and replies. "Only as part of the team, as far as I know. The committee will be giving us the big trophy to display at Ireland's home club and small, commemorative ones to each of the players. They will also announce and honor the MVP for the season, which is sure to be number 30, after that goal. Once all the speeches are done and over with, there will be drinks and dancing all around. It's sure to be great craic! Of course, we have dinner first off, though."
This last is said as a uniformed host approaches you and bows before escorting you to your seats. You are seated near the front of the room and you are the first ones at your table to be seated. The rest of the guests quickly arrive, however, and it turns out that your table-mates are several of Ryan's teammates, including number 30, and their dates. Dinner is served in a very timely fashion and consists of an excellent grilled chicken over a hot bed of rice, served with steamed vegetables and for dessert, a rich chocolate mousse. It goes by faster than you would have thought possible, with all the banter between the guys making you laugh so hard, you feel in danger of having your beverage come out your nose in a most un-ladylike fashion. Therefore, it is both a relief and a disappointment when you spot a well-dressed lady briskly ascending the steps to the podium.
She is immediately the center of attention and the room quiets without need of her calling for it. She goes through the preliminary phases of any award ceremony quickly but without rushing, calling names and giving thanks to the committee members and donors and sundry who made this night possible. Then, she pauses, casts a sharp, but amused glance around the room, before saying, "Now, for what you've all been waiting for..." and winking in your table's direction. She then proceeds to call up each player one at a time, listing their name, number, position, and home town before handing them each a small trophy and directing them off to one side where they gather in a group before a photographer. Once all have been called, the large trophy passed off to the coach to take back to the club, a plenitude of photographs taken, and the lads have returned to their seats, a knowing tension begins to build in the room. The lady has stepped off stage momentarily and is conversing with several other committee members hovering over a clipboard. Moments later, she mounts the steps again.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, this has been a phenomenal season and the players no less so. I think we can all agree that this is the best group of men that Ireland has brought together for many a year. Normally, the decision of MVP is based exclusively on field performance during the games, as it is much more difficult to ascertain the character of a man than it is his skills with a ball. This year, however, the team themselves has taken a hand in determining who holds that honor. There is a man among them who has proven himself kind, caring, and full of integrity as well as being incredible on the field of glory. Therefore, as a unanimous decision, I am pleased to announce this year's MVP..." You blink, slightly blinded, as a spotlight blinks on. "...Ryan John Kelly of The Moy, County Tyrone!"
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Post by maureenj on Feb 11, 2010 1:12:18 GMT -5
Sorry this has taken so long to update. I had intended to have the story done before Toronto, but obviously that didn't happen, so... Anyhow, enjoy, and as always, comments and constructive criticism are very welcome!
As the crowd bursts into a spontaneous ovation, you lead the pack, clapping so hard that you hands quickly begin to grow sore. Your eyes quickly adjust to the brightness of the spotlight, and you watch Ryan as he sits, obviously stunned, as the seconds stretch into and beyond the first minute. You see number 30 nudge him, trying to subtly get him to snap out of it and get up to accept, but you can also see that it has little or no effect, aside from momentarily changing the direction of Ryan's gaze. You know this has to end quickly, or Ryan will never live down the ribbing from his mates, and so you make a snap decision and lean over until you are cheek to cheek with him. To everyone else, it looks like you are kissing him, but before you do, you whisper, "I think they're waiting for you to say something, Hunny Bunny." in as stereotypical movie seductress a voice as you can manage. Then you gently brush your lips across his cheek, feeling the ever-so-fine stubble of his beard tickle as you do so, and sit back in your seat where you proceed to break out in a bad case of the giggles.
Ryan continues to sit there, staring at you for a long moment, obviously stunned and trying to make your actions compute before he, too, begins laughing and finally rises out of his seat.To your surprise, and secret pleasure, he drags his fingers lightly across your bare shoulder blades as he passes behind you and you shiver at the sensation. Before you can completely recover your poise, he has taken the stage, received his award certificate, and approached the podium to make his acceptance speech. Despite not having been prepared, you watch as he does a more than creditable job of drawing people in. After a few moments, you realize that he really didn't need a prepared speech. His rapport with the crowd is not something that could be created with pretty words and flowery turns of phrase; he spoke from the heart, rather, and they loved him for it.
You are still contemplating that as the man that you have come to admire, deeply respect, and perhaps even love? returns to his seat beside you and gently grasps your hand. You look up and for the second time that night, your eyes lock, as he gently lifts you out of your seat and leads you to the dance floor that you didn't notice being cleared. He turns to face you and, so quietly you can barely make it out, asks, "May I have this dance?" You immediately grin up at him, "Please!" before it occurs to you that you have almost no idea how to dance and even less experience doing so. Before panic can gain a foothold, however, Ryan has stepped closer, wrapped you in his arms, and begun moving to the fast-paced music. You move along with him, effortlessly keeping pace, as it seems totally natural being in his arms. The song ends altogether too soon for your liking as Ryan steps back and bows his thanks. It is not until you look up from your responding curtsy that you realize that you two were the only ones on the floor, as couples are now rushing to fill the spacious area before the next song starts. You can feel your cheeks flush with your embarrassment and Ryan, being the thoughtful man that you've come to know, seems to attribute it to exertion and quickly goes to fetch you some refreshments.
The evening passes by in a whirlwind after that, with some dances having the steps called out, some being much like the first, and there being the occasional break for the musicians where the crowd joined together to sing what apparently were well-known songs. The call of the last song for the night surprises you, as you had no idea that so much time had passed, but you gamely join Ryan one last time on the floor. The first truly slow song of the evening begins and you once again take your place in Ryan's arms. This time, however, he draws you even closer than before, so you are pressed gently against his chest. Very relaxed, you turn your head and lay it against him, trusting him to lead you as you listen to his heartbeat. Too soon, the song ends and you find yourself being handed into the passenger seat of Ryan's car for the drive home. A comfortable silence fills the car as you each simply relax and enjoy the other's company.
Upon arriving at your home for the past few days, Ryan again insists on walking you to the door as he has on each occasion thus far, and together you repeat awkward lingering there, not wanting to part company just yet. It is only as you attempt to hide a yawn that Ryan speaks. "Unfortunately for me, work calls me away from your lovely company on the morrow. I'll be driving down to County Antrim for the day, but I should be back sometime early Tuesday. May I meet you then?" Both disappointed and slightly relieved at this news, as it will give you a day and a little to get what you feel for this man straightened out, you reply with a warm smile. "Of course! I'll look forward to it! You know where to find me, so I shan't make plans, though I may take the opportunity to see a bit more of this lovely town." You immediately see him light up at your response and cherish the smile he gifts you with in return. He begins to step back toward the car, but you are puzzled when he arrests the movement and instead steps forward and wraps you in his arms once more. He rests his chin on top of your head for a moment before briefly burying his nose in your hair and planting a kiss there. You can hear him murmur something, but can't make it out before he steps back, bows, and climbs back into his car for his drive home. You slip inside, a warm glow having come to life in the vicinity of your heart and quickly slip into the land of dreams.
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Post by maureenj on Feb 25, 2010 0:21:34 GMT -5
Okay, y'all know the drill. Comments and constructive criticism welcome as always. All I have to say now is: Please, don't kill me! I promise I'll try to update soon!
You wake up slowly, taking several long moments to stretch, despite the fact that this action is making large drafts of cold air filter under your blankets. You eventually sit up and glance at the clock, grinning as you realize that Ryan is going to be back later today. You pull some thick wool socks out from under your pillow, as the sales clerk you got them from yesterday had advised you to put them there overnight, and discover just how pleasant it is to get out of bed with warm feet versus stepping on chilly floors barefoot as you had been doing. It's still early, and you know there's no way on earth that your friend would be up yet after that monumental shopping trip you went on yesterday, so you decide to get out and explore for a bit on your own. After a quick shower to wake you up, you dress in your new exercise suit that you bought yesterday. You really couldn't pass up that beautiful royal blue, especially after you saw how it complemented your complexion and highlighted your hair and eyes. You're grateful for it now, as you quietly exit the door and walk down to the street.
Remembering which way you'd gone out already in your time here, you decide to explore the opposite direction and turn left to start a slow jog to wherever the road takes you. After a short time, you start leaving the more populated section of town, instead encountering farms that grow farther and farther apart. After about a half an hour, you realize you should probably head back, as there is not likely to be anything of interest until you hit the next town at this rate. Putting action to the thought, you turn and head back. You are still in an adventurous mood however, and are not ready to head home to wait for your beau, so you strike off on a side path that you declined to follow earlier, as it headed in the opposite direction you were headed earlier. That made it perfect for you now.
With your feet moving steadily, and the only distraction available being the gorgeous landscape, your thoughts quickly return to the puzzle of a man you so look forward to seeing again in a few hours. Your thoughts range all over the place as you make no attempt to chivvy them into order at this point; you are more interested in seeing what you can discover by letting them have free reign. After about 5 minutes you realize that it's easier to define what you don't feel for him than what you do. He's not a brother to you, that is certain. Brothers don't make you shiver inside and feel deliriously happy when they give you a chaste kiss, like Ryan had parted company with when last you saw him. He's not simply an acquaintance; your feelings are too strong and too varied for that to be accurate. The best you can figure is that he's either one of the best friends you've ever had, or you're falling for him hard and fast. You can't help but think that it's most likely to turn out to be the former, though you wistfully dream that the latter would be true. You know that whatever the relationship turns out to be, it's there to stay. You simply can no longer picture living life without him in it. Thoughts now somewhat more organized, you decide to pick up the pace a little bit and see if you can make it back to town and find something special for Ryan before he gets back and finds you.
You know you are heading in the right direction of town, since the farms are once again nearing one another and slowly changing back over to houses when it happens. You have just started trotting up a low hill when you hear the jingling bell of a lead sheep, though for all you know, it may or may not be with the rest of the flock, as you recall the incident with Ryan on the way to Tyrone. Shrugging the memory off, you keep on and raise your eyes from the vicinity of your next step to keep an eye out for the creature. Instead of a sheep, however, you see an automobile hitting the outer point of an arc, presumably around the still invisible sheep, mere feet away and on a collision course with you. The realization that there is no way that they'll miss you occurs the same moment that the driver sees you and emphatically jerks the wheel across in a desperate bid to avoid you. You could have told him it was a lost cause, but a detached part of your mind working in hyper speed admires him for trying.
You watch, feet still moving, though now it seems as though in slow motion, as the driver's gamble appears for a moment as if it might work, only for the wheels to skid and the vehicle to tip over onto it's side. It hits you, as you knew it would from the moment you saw it, and pain erupts as you are simultaneously pinned beneath the vehicle and dragged down the road under the residual momentum until the vehicle fetches up against one of the ubiquitous stone walls of the area. The pain rages and you are barely aware enough to realize just how desperate a situation you are in. The car has come to rest on it's passenger side, the roof facing the wall and you are pinned in a twisted posture with your legs beneath the car and your nose just brushing the stone wall. You know you are lucky that the front of the car wedged itself into the wall so well, else you'd already be dining with St Peter, but that only registers dimly as you close your eyes to block out the tears you can feel threatening. You can hear someone speaking, as though from a great distance away, but it doesn't really register. Meanwhile, the car moves slightly atop you, stills, then moves again, grinding you further into the grassy strip between the road and the wall and causing you to whimper and the tears to begin to fall. You wish so many things in those brief moments, but chief of all is that Ryan was there to hold you.
As you lay there, despair growing deep inside you at your predicament, there grows also a certainty, a particular solidity to your feelings. That wish for Ryan, rather than any of your friends, siblings, or parents... You know deep inside that you've fallen for him, and fallen hard. It is only now, in your extremity that you are willing to admit it. The joy of it mingles with the desperation of your circumstances and you lose your battle with the tears. You keep your eyes closed rather than stare at that menacing stone wall and just let them trickle down your face. You know that were you anyplace else, you'd be sobbing but the way the car rests atop you prevents that. Indeed, the pressure makes it difficult to get more than a whistle of air with each breath. Thus, when you feel a hand start to card and stroke your hair and hear a voice start to croon, you are at first convinced that you are starting to hallucinate from lack of oxygen. It is only when you hear the voice begin to be broken by tears and the crooning become ragged with the type of sharp breaths one takes when weeping that you open your eyes. It is no hallucination, to your subdued wonder. Ryan is crouched above your head and you can just see him in your peripheral vision when you roll your eyes as far up as you can and still see. You manic momentarily when the soothing music comes to a halt, but relax again when it is simply replaced with the tones of conversation. You know you ought to listen to what they are saying, Ryan and whoever his companion is, but you can't make your mind focus.
Time passes, but you have no clue how long or short a period it is. All you know is the struggle for each tiny breath, the gentle movement of Ryan's palm on your hair, and the soothing melodies he sings for you. Then the music stops again, and this time you don't even really register the conversation going on. Your world is starting to go black around the edges whenever you open your eyes. You hear Ryan's voice again, louder and clearer than what he's been using while singing, but again, you just can't focus beyond your body's need for air. Then, he's gone, and you feel the loss keenly. Several "breaths" later, you feel the pressure lift just the slightest amount and shift down closer to your waist. Simultaneously, breath rushes into your starved lungs and you begin to cough at the unexpected occurrence. You'd gotten used to having to struggle for each pitiful amount of air, the sudden rush nearly chokes you. Tears flow harder as you strive to adjust to the new air flow, gagging heavily before you can get settled back into a near-normal breathing pattern. Ryan's steady hand and quiet voice are all that keep you from descending into an animalistic panic during that short period.
When Ryan disappears and a stranger takes his place, you surrender the will to live and just allow yourself to drift. Then, you feel a mask being gently fitted over your mouth and nose, and cool fresh oxygen comes in puffs, like a gentle breeze on a sunny day. You marshal your strength and resume the fight, though now tis more against the pain than to catch a breath. Still, though, it is very draining, and as time passes, your exhaustion deepens and you long to simply relax and let go. The thought of Ryan, standing somewhere nearby stays the impulse. A brace has been fitted around your neck, and you can feel the pressure slowly disappearing the length of your body and not long, but altogether too long, later it is totally gone. It's a relief, and your muscles begin to unclench when you feel hands fit themselves carefully around your head and neck and in your armpits. Then, agony! as you are dragged across the ground once again, followed by a deep wrenching pain in your lower back as you are laid flat on a hard surface. A rush of weakness follows and you no longer have the strength to fight the darkness. You try to tell Ryan you're sorry, but as the darkness takes you, you still don't know if it was only in your mind or not...
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Post by maureenj on Aug 14, 2010 11:48:17 GMT -5
Okay y'all. I know it's been a while since my last update, but even if you've already read up to this point, please go back and re-read the last update. I've made some fairly major revisions and added some new material. I always welcome comments and constructive criticism, and between the last post and this one, I think I'm going to need it. Keep an eye open for me, please? Thanks! Now, with no further ado, on with the story!
The first thing you become aware of is pain. A dull ache fills you to the core, head to foot, and is punctuated with areas of greater intensity. First and foremost is the throbbing in your head that makes breathing, let alone thinking, difficult. As you lay there, the pain peaking and ebbing rhythmically, trying to hold onto something, anything, to give you a direction in this endless sea of pain, a vivid image suddenly appears in your mind's eye. First, and most intense, it is a pair of brilliant blue/green eyes with gold flecks seemingly placed randomly throughout the iris. Slowly, the image expands to include pale skin dusted with freckles almost too light to see, an imperial hooked nose, expressive lips pulled to one side in a mischievous grin, and finally revealing jet black hair that looks so soft you can't help but want to run your fingers through it. As you come more aware, you know that this person is someone incredibly special to you but you can't for the life of you think why...
An indeterminate length of time later, Eureka hits and you involuntarily gasp out "Ryan!" in your mind, not knowing that your body softly mimics your mind, and slide back into unconsciousness. Unbeknownst to you, your barely audible whisper has re-lit the flame of hope in a faithful bedside companion, though all else believe it to have been nothing more than wistful dreams. _____________-
When next you become aware, the pain has somewhat eased, even if only in comparison to your last "waking" moment. The throbbing is all but gone and your mind is measurably clearer. You begin to take stock of what you know: 1. you were hit by a car. 2. your entire body aches, validation of #1. 3. you have no clear idea of where you are, let alone how much time has passed.
You decide to take stock of what you can and let the rest hand in the wind whilst you do so. Okay. First on the priority list is to evaluate your injuries. You already registered that everything hurts, but you take the time to confirm that the majority of those aches and pains are from the typical cuts and bruises one should expect when hit by a car and dragged over 20 meters over semi-rough terrain. Beyond that, your head aches something fierce. You wonder if it's a concussion, but you set the question aside as you have no basis for comparison. A particular point on your abdomen sends shooting pains through you with each breath you take. Surprisingly, you feel no pain from any point below an area beginning a little below your waist and just above your hips. In fact, below that point, you can feel nothing at all. You know this should worry you, but the unexpected presence of gentle pressure on your left hand provides a welcome distraction. You don't know the cause, but it sends a soft, warm feeling through you nonetheless. As nothing else is screaming for your attention, and your curiosity has been roused, you decide to risk attempting to open your eyes. It takes a surprising amount of effort to lift your eyelids that ever-so-small bit, as they seem to be almost glued shut. Once you finally have them open, it takes several more moments for the images to resolve into something coherent. As they do, the first thing to greet your eyes is an obnoxious pink flamingo yard ornament hovering nearly halfway to the ceiling, lifted there by a multitude of balloons bearing various heart, smiley faces, and get well wishes. You smile and start to chuckle, only to cut off abruptly as pain shoots through you and brings tears to your eyes unbidden. You are unable to stop yourself whimpering quietly, and the pressure on you hand tightens. This so surprises you that you involuntarily glance at it. It comes as a surprise, in your groggy state, to see another, larger, masculine hand engulfing yours. As you watch, the thumb of that other hand begins to gently caress the back of your hand, carefully avoiding the IV line taped there. Moving only your eyes, you trace from the hand back to the wrist and up the arm. When your gaze reaches the shoulder the arm is atached to, you find that your gaze can go no further without turning your head. Not willing to brave that quite yet, you instead let your gaze drift back down to the hand clasping yours. You can both feel and see the inherent strength; this hand could crush yours without a second thought, yet it rather holds you like the most delicate of blown-glass ornaments, gentle as if stroking a newborn pup. The calluses of a working man's hands coupled with the tenderness of a lover.
When you've observed all the aspects that you can think of, you gather your courage and slowly; ever so slowly, shift your head to the side until he is totally in your view. Yes, he, for it is Ryan who more lies than sits in the chair beside you, hand holding yours and calming you even as he sleeps. His head is adorably tilted back and to the side, in a position that must result in an incredibly painful crick in his neck when he wakes. You can see his nostrils softly flare with each inhalation, and his lips gently part as he exhales. In short, he is a balm on the eyes, and you feel as if you could look on him for hours on end. As you continue to gaze on him, however, you begin to see signs that all is not as well as it first appeared. You can see a tightness around his lips and dark circles under his eyes. He even has what looks like several days' worth of stubble growing on his chin. All together, he looks like something the cat dragged in several days after a fight. As you rest your eyes on him, your breath begins to catch in your chest as you remember the decision you made while running, and the conclusion you came to while pinned. This pushes you close to tears, but before you do more than start to appreciate the significance of Ryan's presence and appearance, an alarm begins to sound. It seems louder and more annoying than any fire alarm or wake-up buzzer you've ever heard, coming after the silence of the room. As it continues to sound, several things happen nearly simultaneously. First, Ryan immediately comes awake and sits bolt upright with a look of terror in his eyes. Then his eyes shoot to your face and you can see first confusion, and then joy, replace the terror within the space of a breath. Before either of you can do more than blink at each other, a veritable flood of doctors, nurses, and orderlies invade the room, surrounding your bed and blocking Ryan from view.
Hours later, or so it seems, the tests and prodding is over. Only one doctor remains, and he allows Ryan to return upon your request. As you clutch Ryan's hand, the doctor explains your injuries and what was done to treat them. Various scrapes and bruises aside, (though he called them abrasions and contusions) you came in with a fairly serious concussion, a fractured arm, several lightly pulled muscles in your abdomen, a pressure cut near your groin that came perilously close to the femoral artery, and a wrenched back. Overall it was good news, save for that last, as there had since been some swelling around the spine in your lower back and it was this that was cutting off the feeling from your lower half. He was optimistic that it was only temporary and that as soon as the swelling went down everything would return to normal, and upon this news, you begin crying in relief. The doctor quietly takes his leave and Ryan gingerly sits on your bedside, wraps you in his arms and holds you through the emotional storm. When you finally calm back down, you shift, with Ryan's help to be a bit more reclined, but make no effort to leave his arms. Looking up at him, you ask him to tell you what he remembers happened, and don't leave anything out! He smiles down at you and consents, knowing that you'll probably be out like a light before he's done, but willing to tell the tale anyway. ______________________
Ryan and the lads' PoV: The last 48 or so hours had been exhausting. First the banquet, then the long drive down to the studio where he met up with the lads to hear the mixing for the newest tracks to be included on their upcoming cd, a whirlwind shopping trip, and now the long drive back home. He sighed and relaxed down into his seat, once again lost in contemplating the girl he was to meet as soon as he cleaned up. Keith glanced over at him from where he sat driving, then stole a moment's attention away from the road to share a long look and crooked smile with George via the rear-view mirror. Damian and Paul, on either side of George in the backseat, observed this, then began to plan their next prank via significant looks, random gestures, and various facial expressions. George, of course, could read them just fine, but declined to say anything, choosing instead to enjoy the craic and feign surprise when they carried it out.
After a few minutes of this, it seems the prank is planned and everyone is once more relaxing in their seats and staring out the windows in a comfortable silence. Off and on, as has been happening all morning, and indeed, all this trip, the others hear Ryan mumbling or humming to himself and give him their full attention, but he never notices, absorbed in his thoughts. Finally, Keith says aloud, "We're gettin' close now, lads. Best be puttin' those cards away right quick. We'll be there in near abouts a quarter hour... Bloody 'Ell!" He shouts this last as he rapidly steps on the brakes, stops on the side of the road, unbuckles and jumps out of the car.
The other lads take a few seconds longer to see what has caused this reaction, and so by the time they spot the car on its side before them and get out of their own vehicle, Keith is already assisting the other driver as he climbs out driver's door, which has taken the place of the roof. Despite having been in the middle of the back seat, George is the first one over to help the stunned man and assists Keith in getting him seated. Both are concerned by the blood running down the side of his face, but Keith shortly pronounces that it's only a pressure cut and will likely not even scar so long as it is seen to quickly by a professional. Throughout their ministrations, the man, who absently gave his name as Eoin (pronounced O-wen) when asked, has been muttering quietly. Now that the lads know he is in no danger, those word suddenly register. He's been saying, o'er and o'er, "Where is she? How is she? Did I kill her? I did, didn't I? Where is she?"
The implications of this hit them like a punch to the gut. They'd both assumed he'd tipped the car avoiding the sheep they can see merrily meandering it's way down the hill about 100 feet away. To learn differently, especially when there was no one else in sight, filled them with dread. Keith, being a sensible man and already having taken charge of Eoin, immediately calls Damian and Paul over from where Paul is studiously keeping a watch up the road for other passersby. "Paul, I know blood makes you ill, so I need you to call the NIAS (North Ireland Ambulance Service) and get them out here fast. Tell them we've happened on a vehicle accident that may have included a pedestrian." Paul's expression reflects the horror he feels at this revelation. "Keep them on the line while we look, so we can pass along any new info. Also, help Damo keep Eoin here occupied and calm. Damian, come here mate. I need you to use this, " and here Keith pulls the scarf he's wearing from around his neck, "to keep bleeding down, lessen we want our friend 'ere passin' out on us." He bunches up the scarf and quickly shows Damian how to keep the pressure on and then immediately goes to join George, who has grabbed Ryan in the intervening few brief moments and explained what they'd learned. Together the three quickly begin searching the area for the missing "she".
A bare minute or two later, Keith and George exchange looks across the intervening distance, both shaking their heads in the negative. Neither had found a trace of their missing person. Both turn to look at Ryan, but he's not looking at them. Instead, he is crouched near the rear bumper of the over-turned vehicle, having somehow squeezed into the space more suited to a child's size. Before either of them take another breath, they are running over to join him. Seconds later, they can see he has his left hand extended into the small space between the car's roof and the stone wall and is making some sort of small repetitive action. Another glance, this one wide-eyed, passes between the two of them as just how small a space it is registers. Why, it can't be wider than 10-12 inches at most! Whoever this is has some powerful guardian angels working on her behalf.
After a fraction of an instant's gaping, the life-saving instincts of a father and a surfer come to the fore. Keith kneels down behind Ryan and pressed up against the wall, trying to see around him as best as he can, while George calls Paul over and takes the phone from him briefly. From his new vantage, all Keith can really see is a dark mass that Ryan keep stroking, so presumably the hair of the woman, and a pale blur that is likely a part of her face. He can hear her wheezing as it echoes out of the confined space, however, and his concern for her, whoever she is, deepens. He says quietly to Ryan, "Good form, mate, on keeping her calm. Now, I need you to tell me what you see so mayhap we can find a way to help whoever she is."
At this Ryan murmurs back to him, "It's her. I don't want to believe it, but it's her." "The one you wanted us all to meet and dragged up here for that express purpose?" Ryan nods and continues, hand never stopping it's perpetual motion. "Aye. I can't see too well, but she's layin' on her left side, but I can't see where her arm is. Her right arm she's cradling to her chest and she either can't or won't move it to grip my hand. Just below her elbow, she disappears under the car." This is all said in a dispassionate tone of voice, and Keith quickly relays the info to George, who in turn relays it to the dispatcher for the ambulance team, while making a mental note to keep an eye on his buddy as well.
He decides he's learned as much as he can from the position he's in and carefully eyes the wall before walking several paces downhill from the accident. He gets to a point where, even if the wall should collapse, it won't cause any further harm to the woman or Ryan, and carefully climbs the 3 feet or so before walking even more carefully back up the road, though staying several paces away from the wall. Once he is lined up with the car, as visible from the driver side mirror, Keith drops to his belly and slowly crawls forward until he can look down at the trapped victim. Only a few minutes have elapsed since they arrived, but as he looks down, he knows that the next few are going to be even more critical. From this angle, he can confirm to everyone that Ryan's assessment of the situation is essentially correct. The girl is pinned from just above the waist down, and is laying primarily on her left side. He can tell, now, that the angle of the car's weight on her diaphragm is what is causing the wheezing her heard previously and can see her face slowly gaining a blue tinge as she struggles to draw in enough oxygen.
He retraces his steps quickly, but with care and takes the phone from George to explain to the dispatcher. George's expression becomes ever more solemn as he listens to Keith's side of the conversation. About 30 seconds later, Keith briskly steps over to Damian and presses the phone into his free hand. "Hold onto this lad, while we do what we must." Damian nods, and Keith grabs Paul by the arm and drags him back over to George and Ryan. "Lads, this lass's not gettin' enough air, and from all the signs, dispatch thinks we need to do somet'in' 'bout it afore the crew gets here. They're on the way, but our lass here needs help now. So, what we're gonna hafta do is move this 'ere car ever so carefully. I know it's askin' a lot, but iff'n we don't gain those precious few inches, well, the future may not be so bright for her."
Determined expressions fixed themselves firmly on each of the lads' faces as they prepared to do as they must to save a life. Then, once Ryan quickly explained to the lass, they all gathered round the rear bumper and, bracing themselves, found a handhold. Keith and George would focus primarily on lifting the car, so as to not just drag it, and the lass in all probability, into a new position, Ryan and Paul would assist in the lifting but would focus more on directing it to where it was to come to rest. "Ready, lads?" George growled. "On three. One. Two. THREE!" On cue, they four of them worked as a well-oiled machine and managed to shift the car on the angle, revealing an additional 4-5 inches of the lass's torso and allowing more space for a rescuer to crouch near her head. It is as they catch their breath and Ryan resumes his vigil in the newly enlarged position, that they hear the sirens.
Within the next two minutes, the crew has pulled up and is unloading the heavy equipment needed to free the lass. One of the EMT's has taken Ryan's position, and after taking her pulse and checking her breathing as well as possible, has now carefully fitted her with a neck brace and an oxygen mask that he is pumping gently and steadily. Ryan and the lads gather on the other side of the road, Keith and George on either side of Ryan, with an arm slung about his shoulders. Their eyes flicker back and forth between where Eoin is sitting after having been seen to, the pair now jacking the car up, and the EMT crouched at her head. What seems like an eternity later, but in reality is no more than 5 minutes, the pair moving the car carefully have it lifted high enough to allow for pulling her out. They work together with the EMT who's been tending her and monitoring her vitals and on a count of 3 smoothly pull her clear of the vehicle. Once clear, they seem to go into double time, the one of the two handling the car begins to swiftly lower it to reclaim their jack and the other carefully straightens her out and begins strapping her onto a backboard. Only moments after he does this however, the EMT at her head gives a shout. "She's coding!"
At this, Ryan breaks away from his friends at a run, and drops to his knees beside her, just in time to hear her whisper "Sorry, my love" before her eyes roll up into her head. In Ryan's mind, everything has gone into slow motion. The EMT who had been pumping the oxygen bag has dropped it and is now beginning chest compressions as the one who'd been strapping her in is putting pressure on a bleeding gash, only now visible. The one lowering the car back down is struggling not to drop it without hurting someone. Damian, Paul, and George are still standing there blinking, but Keith has crossed the distance to kneel beside him and bent to... KISS her?!? Without thinking, Ryan shoves Keith to the side, a murderous look in his eyes, and Keith shouts, "Well, then, BREATHE FOR HER!!!" Instantly contrite, Ryan leans down and does so, focusing on the counts that he learned many years ago and never expected to have to use. After a few short moments that stretched interminably long, the EMT leans back. "We've still got her, but we need to get moving, stat!"
Everything snaps back into real time for Ryan as one of the EMT's finishes wrapping a pressure bandage around the lass's upper thigh. "Whoa, hang on a second! When did he get that there?" Ryan thinks to himself. The three EMTs are working together at top speed, but somehow are managing to not get in each other's way, as they carefully finish strapping her down to a backboard. With one of them once again working the oxygen mask, they get her and Eoin loaded into the ambulance and speed away, sirens once again blaring. The lads are left staring after them and one thing quickly becomes clear. They need to follow that ambulance and discover the end of the story they inadvertently stumbled across. Thus, within minutes of the ambulance's disappearance from view, they are all piled back in the car and on their way, each clutching a rosary, trying not to picture that frighteningly large stain on the ground where the lass had lain, and praying for a happy ending.
Ryan looks down as he finishes talking about the accident to find you just falling asleep, and you hear him murmur something about telling you more later. Then he bends down and places a gentle kiss on the top of your head, squeezes you oh, so gently, and begins to hum as you drift off to dreams of being rocked in a sea of love.
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Post by angelenia100 on Apr 19, 2011 15:16:00 GMT -5
MORE!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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