He chuckles and claps my shoulder. "It'll be alright, lad. She loves ye and ye her. It'll all work out grand. Now get yerself ready. Do ye have the ring?"
I dig into my front pocket and pull out my mother's wedding band. It's a traditional Claddaugh with an emerald for the heart. I considered getting a diamond put in, but Kelli always compares my eyes to emeralds, so I thought she might like an emerald on her wedding ring. If she wants a diamond, I can always get her one before the wedding.
Holding the ring up in front of my face I say, "Yep."
Pappy smiles and pats me a few more times before ushering me into the pub.
The place is pretty packed, especially for a Wednesday night. Kelli's marketing has really helped get people in the door during the week. I've been booking the Fighting Irish a couple times a month and their fans are beginning to spend time here even when they aren't playing. To date, they've only broken one stool, so it has worked out really well.
Of course the ‘crew', as Kelli calls them, are all here. They're in on the plans for tonight. I would never have thought to include them, but one night a few weeks ago Kel was home sick and Abby began badgering me about when I was going to propose. I said the thought had crossed my mind, and then they were off to the races. Abby thought I should write her a poem. Jaye voted for the 7th inning stretch at a Dodgers game. Wilson spun a tale of soft music, candlelight, and a roomful of flowers. Tom and Ben both boycotted the exercise; Tom because he didn't want to see Kelli off the market, and Ben because he doesn't give a fuck.
I decided for something of a hybrid of the three: I wrote her a song, I'll deliver it in front of the pub, and there will be music – and it could even be considered "soft" given the Fighting Irish's normal fare.
Bernie catches my eye and mouths, "You ready?"
I nod my ascent and he bounds onto the stage, starting the show.
I look over at Kelli who is trying to take an order over the wail of Bernie's vocals. Her eyes dart regularly to the stage and she sings along to the song. I can't help but smile, hearing her singing in my head. She's tone deaf and couldn't be in tune to save her life, but I love hearing her sing. It's one of the many small things she does that fill me with joy for absolutely no reason.
Fuck, I hope she says yes.
The song ends abruptly and instead of launching immediately into their next one – Bernie isn't known for his chit chatting between songs – Bernie takes the mic and begins my intro.
My heart stops beating. Then resumes at a viscous tempo.
"Alright Mother Fuckers, we're gonna slow things down here and you are going to like it," Bernie sneers into the mic and the crowd roars. How he endears himself with insulting his audience has always baffled me, but there it is. They love him. Hell, I love him, too. The Fighting Irish have long been one of my favorite bands.
"Here's the thing. I have this buddy, and he's in love with this woman. Let me tell you, this woman is fine! Her tits … " and he holds out his hands in front of his chest mugging extremely large breasts and biting his lower lip. Fucking asshole – he's talking about my woman! I look over at Kelli who's laughing with the rest of them, having no idea that he's referencing her.
" … Well, they're magnificent. She's also smart as fuck, and probably one of the nicest women I've ever met. Why the hell she likes my friend … fuck if I know. But she does. And he's pretty serious about her too. And you see, my friend, he's not so good at expressing himself. He says fuck a lot, and thinks stringing together five words counts as a conversation. But he wants to tell this woman how he feels. Enter Bernie the Great!" At this Bernie raises his arms up in a Christ-like pose and the audience goes crazy.
"Ever a fan of true love," he stops to wink and lick his lips at a chick in the front row, "I of course, offer my services to this friend. Together, we wrote this here special woman a song. Wanna hear it?" The crowd screams and claps and I marvel at Bernie's skill at whipping any audience into a frenzy. His talent is truly wasted on little pubs like mine. I sure as hell hope he makes it big some day.
"You know what?" he says. The audiences asks, "What?"
"I think I should have him come up here and sing it with me. What do you think? He's here, right now. Shall we get his ass up on this stage?" Another roar goes up and I look over at Kelli again. She's cheering with the crowd but sensing me, she turns and looks at me, smiling and looking excited. I can imagine what's going through her head, how she's happy for this lucky woman whose man took the time and energy to do this for her. I hope she likes the song.
I smile back at her and head for the stage, keeping my eyes on her the whole time. At first her smile doesn't change, but as I draw closer to the stage, her eyes grow wider and her mouth begins to open in an "O" of disbelief. I eventually have to break eye contact with her, but once I'm up on the stage and Bernie has shoved a mic in my hand, clapping me on the back, I'm able to find her again.
She's frozen, her eyes glued to me, her mouth still open.
"Everyone, let's give a welcome to my buddy Ian, proud proprietor of this here establishment," Bernie says and the audience obliges with another cheer.
"Ready, Ian?" Bernie asks as Mick, the fiddler, pulls his bow across the strings a few times.
"No fucking way," I say and Bernie lets out a howl of laugher. "Let's do this."
The fiddle starts low and sweet. Kelli loves the fiddle, so it carries the melody of the song, while the other instruments, including a traditional wooden flute and Irish harp, provide flavor and color.
Bernie:
Shall I compare thee to a summer's day
That's how it all starts
Your beauty pierces all the way
Into my tender heart
Me:
There's talk of winds in the spring
And summer's short duration
But your charms make me sing
Of my undying admiration
Here the crowd sends up a cheer and I see that Kel has begun to cry.
Bernie:
Even heaven has its flaws
Shining too bright or too dim
Yet our love knows no laws
And my cup's filled to the brim
Me:
Your beauty strong will never fade
You'll always be my fairest
For God it seems had you made
To pull me from my despair – est.
She throws her head back at this and laughs. When her eyes return to me I can feel her love. It gives me confidence as the music amps up and Bernie and I take the last stanza together.
So long as men can breathe or eyes can see
This is my truth, and you give life to me
I motion for Kelli to join me on the stage and not surprisingly, she balks. I remember the time Pappy tried to get her engaged in the Halloween auction and she was having no part of it.
Luckily, I had Hal standing by, ready to carry her to the stage if need be. I see him step up behind her and motion her to the end of the bar. She's reluctant, but she's allowing herself to be ushered through the crowd.
Out of the corner of my eye I see Abby, Tom and Tracey quickly handing out the cards. Fuck, this is it. Here we go.
Kelli finally appears onstage and the Fighting Irish play a slow tune quietly from the back of the stage. There's no question she's confused, and emotional, but she looks happy and I take courage in that.
Facing her, I take her hands and begin the speech I've prepared.
"One year ago today, I came outta that kitchen to wipe down my bar before opening and see my dad sitting in a booth talking to some girl. I could only see the back of her head, but it was clear she had bewitched old Pappy because he was beaming at her like a lovesick schoolboy.
The minute I heard your voice, something in me stilled. I can't remember what I said, but I wanted so badly for you to turn around, so I shot my mouth off, probably with something dickish."
Kelli nods here and the crowd laughs.
"The minute I saw your eyes, I was bewitched too. Each day, each hour, each minute I spent with you, I fell more and more under your spell. I fell for you hard, and I fell fast. And it was terrifying."
I can hear more laughter, but my focus is entirely on Kelli now.
"People always think facing your demons is the hardest thing to do. I know I did, and I thought I was so strong, and so brave because I lived with my demons every day, invited them to share my life. I didn't run or hide from them. But you asked me to say goodbye to my demons. To let them go. You asked me to share my life with you instead, and I'll be damned if that didn't scare the living shit out of me.