There You'll Find Me (33 page)

“Just a headache.” I forced a smile and pushed back the fear that my sky was falling. “Save me a dance?”

“I’ll be fighting off the lads just to get to you.”

I patted his lapel. “Promise me you won’t bite anyone.”

We stopped by a trailer selling food, and the smell was as strong as the music was loud. I read the limited menu and twisted the necklace at my throat. Not a salad to be had.

“I’ll have the lamb stew and a Coke,” Beckett said. “Finley?”

I don’t know. I don’t know
.

I am hungry, but it’s all bad for me. Why can’t they just have some fruit?
“Diet Coke and . . . fish and chips, I guess.”

“There you are!” Orla waved with one hand and dragged an unfamiliar teen boy with the other. “Aedan McCourt, these are me friends. Friends, this is Aedan.”

The guy was only as tall as Orla’s nose, his teeth crooked as country fence posts, but Orla seemed captivated by him all the same.

“I had no idea you were taking a date,” Erin said. “You haven’t said a word about it.”

“It was kind of last minute.” Orla looped her arm around Aedan’s. “His date cancelled just hours ago.”

Aedan frowned. “She’s terribly sick. Miserable with food poisoning.”

Orla grinned. “Isn’t it awesome?”

A large event tent sat in front of the school, and at least half the town stood under it. The other half spilled outside and onto the grounds, where fairy lights were strung from tree to tree. As we four carried our food, it was a wonderland we entered, complete with a soundtrack that sang to my frayed nerves as the strains of a fiddle and dueling guitars wove around me.

Beckett opened the door flap and held it for us to step inside.

As long as I lived I would never forget the look on Beatrice Plummer’s face as Erin walked into the dance on Beckett’s arm. The whole room seemed to stop. All the girls under the age of twenty let out a collective squeal and five of them rushed him.

Beckett handled it all with his usual finesse. He signed a few autographs, promised a couple of dances, but then politely told the crowd that he was all Erin’s tonight. And to think at one time I thought he was a world-class jerk.

We sat at a folding table and watched the band.

“That’s your friend Donal Murphy, isn’t it?” I pointed toward the stage, trying to get my mind off my queasy stomach.

“He comes back every year.” Erin grinned as she clapped to the tune. “I think he and Saint Flanagan were mates in the fourteen-hundreds.”

“Well, Beckett.” Beatrice stood behind his chair, her tall, lanky date hovering behind her. “What a surprise to see you here. Without Taylor.”

Beckett’s face tightened, but within a second his easy smile returned. “I’ve never been to a village dance. When I asked Erin if I could join her, I couldn’t believe my luck that she said yes.”

Beatrice’s eyelashes fluttered like angry ant legs. “Really. Is that so?”

“It is.” Beckett rested his arm around Erin’s chair. “But who wouldn’t want to go with Erin? Five minutes after meeting her, I knew she was one of the kindest people I’d ever encountered. So refreshing to find someone with such a genuine heart, don’t you think?” Beckett’s grin never wavered, but his eyes held a warning for Beatrice. “We’ve gotten so close over the last few months, it’s like we’re family. And you know how protective of me family I am.” He laughed and gave Erin a small squeeze. “Anyone who hurt her would have to answer to me for sure. Not that anyone
ever
would. That would be crazy, sure it would.”

“Totally crazy,” I said, enjoying the color crawling up Beatrice’s neck and the smile glowing on Erin’s face.

“Count me in for the Erin O’Callaghan fan club too.” Joshua Smith reached for a fry on his plate. “Did you know she can recite the entire periodic table?”

“Have a lovely evening, Beatrice.” Beckett turned his back, dismissing her for the night.

Orla watched Beatrice stomp away. “She’s got war on her mind.”

“I can handle her.” Beckett gave me a small smile. “And I can handle me father when she and Taylor run right to him.”

“Thank you,” Erin called over the music. “That was truly nice of all of you.”

“I meant it.” Beckett ladled his spoon into his stew. “I’m grateful for everything you and your parents have done for me. Beatrice needs to know she can’t mess with you.”

“She’ll be back,” I said. “I know that look, and she’s not done yet.”

“Nothing to worry about.” Beckett eyed my untouched plate.

“Not hungry?”

I didn’t even have to look up to know Erin was watching me with the intensity of an international spy. “No, it’s fine. I’ve been too busy talking and taking it all in.”

“Dance with me soon?”

“I don’t know.” I cut my battered fish into small pieces, stacking a few on top of one another and shoving some under my fries. “With the way all the girls are looking at you, I might never get my chance.” I glanced behind us. “Heck, even that big boy in the blue suit over there is watching you like candy.”

“It’s possible I might’ve offered him a slow dance.” Beckett eyed the high schooler who stuffed his mouth with a heaping bite of kraut. “I sometimes get a little free with me promises.”

An hour later I’d taken in so much Diet Coke, my stomach was gurgling. But it didn’t fill the burning from hours without a proper meal, a feeling that gave me a strange charge. And it didn’t relieve the weight in my head. A few bites of fish, three fries. Still probably a five-hundred calorie day. Erin wouldn’t approve. But it was just for today. Tomorrow I’d start over and eat right.

God, I can control this. I can
.

“Time to show me your dancing skills.” Orla grabbed her date by the hand. “We’ll see you all in a few hours.” She leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I’ve had a few of those energy drinks. Hope the guitar players can keep up.”

Lured by Donal Murphy’s fine fiddling skills, I let Joshua lead me out into the mad crush of dancers. I had no idea what the proper form was, but my hesitance was soon overridden by Joshua’s unusual windmill arms and his head jerking like an angry ostrich.

A group formed around us as Beckett, Erin, Joshua, and I all danced. And I should’ve been enjoying it. I was a cheerleader for years. This was my thing. I loved dancing, the movement of body and rhythm.

But instead I was worried.

And winded.

Breathing like I’d just run a marathon instead of skipping around to four measly songs, I began to make my way back to the table.

“Hey, I believe you owe me.” Beckett intercepted me as the band shifted to a slow song. I was so tired. Just a little break was all I needed.

But this was Beckett Rush. How often in a lifetime did a guy like this ask a girl like me to dance?

Beckett took my hand, led me back to the floor, and reeled me close to his chest as we danced on the outer edge of the crowd.

“Any luck on my brother’s cross?”

“Not yet. But I’ll find it. I’ve had a few leads, but so far none have been the one.”

“And you’ll keep searching? We can’t give up. My audition is next week and the last few measures of the song are still not finished and I know that cross—”

“Finley, I’ll not be giving up.” He held me tighter, and I squinted against the lights that were suddenly too bright. Pressing my head to Beckett’s chest, I thought to listen to the beat of his heart, but instead found myself closing my eyes against the seasick feeling that washed over me. How much longer was this song going to last?

“Ready to spin?” Beckett asked.

The spots returned before my eyes and I blinked to chase them away. My head fizzed with dizzy air. “No, I don’t think—”

But it was too late. Smiling, he spun me out and my fingers slipped from his before he could pull me back in.

“Finley?” Beckett’s voice came from far away, and I wanted to respond, but my lips wouldn’t move, and my limbs morphed into jelly.

The ground tilted beneath me, and I catapulted straight down. Reaching out blindly, I crashed to the floor.

Where my scene faded to black.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Abbeyglen has a way of slowing a person down.
Usually when I need it most.

—Travel Journal of Will Sinclair

F
inley.”

When I opened my eyes, I saw two things—Beckett leaning over me, his eyes wide and his frown heavy. And every citizen of Abbeyglen hovering behind him in a gigantic circle.

“Oh no,” I whispered.

“Are you okay?” He glared at a few standing too close. “Step back. Give her some breathing room.” He looked back to me. “You just crumbled. It happened so fast, I couldn’t even catch you.”

“Like something out of a movie,” Orla said.

I peeled myself off the floor, aware of a throbbing knee and obliterated pride. “I’m pretty sure I want to die.”

Beckett helped me to my feet. “You’re really pale.

“It must be bad if
you
find me pasty.”

Beckett pulled me closer and studied my face with a look that was far from romantic. “Are you all right?”

I laughed. “Yeah, of course. I’m such a klutz. I haven’t had a pair of heels on in a long time.”

“Finley, you didn’t just fall,” Erin said. “You passed out.”

Beckett took a steadying breath. “Longest moment of my life.”

I fought a groan as Principal Plummer, dressed in a linen suit the color of spring peaches, walked our way, the old mayor limping beside him.

“We need to call a doctor,” the mayor said.

“No!” They couldn’t.

“Should I call my mother?” Erin’s face pinched in worry.

“Definitely so,” Mr. Plummer said. “Young lady, you were out for a good ten seconds.”

“No. Please.” My heart beat a wild tempo. Why hadn’t I eaten today? I was so stupid. I’d just let it go. I’d wanted to be sure I fit in the dress. And it just . . . made me feel better not to.

Until now.

Lord, help me. If my mom finds out, I’m dead. She’ ll make me come home
.

“It’s the lights.” I startled as the music struck up again. “And the crowd. I just got dizzy from it all.”

But Beckett and Mr. Plummer both looked doubtful. “Let’s go sit down and get you some water.”

The principal frowned at one dangerously intertwined teenage couple, then gave me his full attention as Beckett helped me to our table. “Are you sure you’re quite all right?” Mr. Plummer asked. “You took a good spill, sure you did.”

“Yes.” Humiliation. Could you die from that? “I’m fine. Truly. No need to call anyone.”

“But your knee,” Erin said.

“It’s just a little sore. Seriously, it’ll be good as new in a few minutes.”

“No.” Erin pointed. “I mean
look
at your knee. It’s bleeding right through your dress.”

Sure enough, a crimson stain had seeped through my dress right at my knee. My gorgeous dress. Ruined.

And so was this evening.

The principal scanned the perimeter, then gestured to someone behind me. “Plasters!” Mr. Plummer called for a bandage, handing over his keys. “In the school, please. Be quick about it.”

The mayor tut-tutted. “We’ll get you something for that.”

Erin put her arm around me. “Go ahead and sit down for now. Get the weight off your leg.”

I just wanted to go home. Fatigue and exhaustion waltzed with embarrassment as I grabbed a napkin off the table, pulled my hem above my knees, and stuck the napkin to my oozing wound. I must have looked so glamorous to Beckett. “It’s fine. I don’t need anything.” Did the entire village have to look this way? Hadn’t anyone ever tripped?

Five ridiculously long minutes later someone returned bearing a handful of Band-Aids.

“What took you so long, Beatrice?” asked Mr. Plummer.