This is the SECOND part in a series, meaning that you should read the first part of "Red is the Rose" before reading this. Don't worry, it's not too shabby :)

A fisherman tells the story of the sea. A bartender tells the story of the pub. A farmer tells the story of the fields. A blacksmith tells the story of the forge. A mother tells the story of a sweet bedtime tale.

But an Irishman tells the story of the reddest of all roses, a fair, bonny irish lass.

**Note: Words were changed to influence the Irish brogue**

Dedicated to:
Mary Rita McGlinchey-Hanley~ Her soul rests where the hills are an emerald green, where the sea is the bluest of blues, and where a song is sung in every story told.
Bridget~ My faithful cheese sister, you know this story wouldn't of come true if not for my constant calls.
Mercy(simtomcat)~Thanks so much for all those pictures you edited for me! Sadly, I picked another picture, though I'll use one of yours in Ch.3! :)

His heart was pounding like a steady drum. His breaths were quick, rapid and shallow. He didn't know where he was going and neither did he care.

Patrick had watched their hands clasp together. Her delicate one in his hefty one. He saw them embrace, their bodies against each other. He was sickened when he saw that conceited face plant a scratchy kiss on her smooth cheek. Patrick wished *he* had been the one to hold Aine in his arms and whisper sweet nothings into her ear.

His heart had been filled with song, a warm smile upon his lips. But in one fleeting moment, he was left as hollow and cold as an empty pot of tea. He felt painful spasms ripping through his chest. Each heartbeat felt as though it would shatter him, as he watched his true love in another man's arms.

Even though his mind was astray, Patrick's feet seemed to of led him in the right direction.
He was outside of his sister, Kate's, flat.

A window was open, the soft night breeze causing the old lace curtain to gently billow out of the window. A soft, flickering, yellow light from inside told him that Kate was still awake. However, he seemed unable to form words in order speak with her, his heart too heavy and his brain too muddled. Instead, he stayed outside and enjoyed the cool night air.

He scuffed the dirt road, causing some dust to drift about in the air. Patrick slowly meandered over to the crumbling brick wall and began to feel the rough texture underneath his sweaty palm. He walked to the corner of the building, his hand dragging on the wall beside him.

The cool, night air must have cleared his mind, for his thoughts drifted from, "Why couldn't it of been me?" to "What should I do now?". His eyes traveled to the night sky, hoping it could provide him the answer to the question he now seeked.

When Patrick turned his gaze skyward, he saw no shimmering stars or luminous moon that appeared to always give him a wink. There was no velvety, blue night sky, or a shooting star that seemed to always stop his heart for just an instant.

Rather the sky was filled with clouds and was hazy with a dingy yellow glow from the lights of London.

He dreamt of Ireland's rolling hills, of it's lovely, shimmering lakes, and little babbling rills. He thought he heard a colleen's lilting laugh across a meadow, and it seemed as if he was almost there. But the foul stench of the alleyway awoke him to the present.

Patrick's bones ached for the enchantment of his Irish night sky among the other beauties of Ireland as much as his heart ached for his Irish lass.

Unexpectedly, Patrick had a jolt of realization. In fact, the dingy night sky *had* answered his question.

He was to return to his beloved Ireland.
Where he could breathe in the sweet air. Where he could feel the lush, spongy moss that grows between the rocks in the stone walls, and where he could let the land cleanse and hopefully restore his broken, fragile heart.

He ran up the rotten, termite infested stairs to Kate's dwelling, leaping with exuberance over the loose and crumbling boards. Such hope and joy was on his mind that he could almost feel the sweet Irish breeze in the stale air of the corridor.

When Patrick reached her door, he took a deep breath and turned the rusty doorknob. When he entered, Kate rose from her chair and came to greet him.

"Patrick, whar have ya been? You've been worryin' me sick. Well, whats a sister ta do? Here, let me get ya a cup of tay*." she offered.
"Thank ya, but Kate, the reason I was so late was 'cause I was a thinkin'....thinkin' things over. Your hospitality has been greatly appreciated but I must be a leavin' tamorrow mornin'...back home to County Donegal." he said apogetically.

Kate stood for a moment, looking into his eyes, drew a deep breath and glared at him.
"Ya can't be a leavin' 'cause of Aine. I will not be a havin' me brother walkin' away from love. It's simply sacreligious and I can't be a havin' that in this household. Ya know Mother would be very disappointed in ya, puttin' shame on the family and such sorts. Ya better stay here." she said with a smirk.
.................................
*: tay=tea

He looked over at her and slowly shook his head. He didn't know why he tried to fool her. She seemed to always know exactly what he was thinking, just by looking into his eyes. However, forbidding him to leave and her jest about the shame on the family was not enough to quell Patrick's desire.

"No...no, Kate. I'm sorry, but I have ta leave. The pain is too great. I miss me Emerald Isle, and Aine...well we could never be. It was just--" he explained.
Kate stamped her foot and curled her hands into fists. "Patrick! How dare ya be sayin' such! You can't be--"

At that moment she gave a light cough, and tried to speak again, but was only interrupted again by another cough, coarser this time. She walked to the water basin and tried to diminish it with a drink of water, but it was to no avail.

She sat down upon the edge of her bed, making the old springs groan with her weight. She braced herself with her hands upon her knees, and coughed continuously for several minutes. Finally, her bout of coughs had stopped and she drew in a deep breath. It took her a few moments before regaining back her breath.

She stared at the ground, as if still trying to regain composure before she stood up and continued, "As I was sayin'..."
Patrick's mind had completely forgot about Aine for the moment and was still trying to figure out what just happened to his little sister.
"Kate! Sit back down! Wha...What just happened here?" he asked with a quizzical expression.
"Don't ya be a worryin'. This has happened before, it's only because of all this wet weather. It sure has been fine days for young ducks lately. But never ye be a worryin', I'm fine, I truly am."

Patrick, of course, didn't believe such nonsense. He pulled her up, and felt her forehead. She was warmer than usual.

"Yer sick, and--" he began.
She gave him a nasty look before she spat, "Don't ye dare be a changin' the subject Patrick Joseph McGlinchey! We were talkin' about Aine and ya and damnit, we'll talk about that!"

He laughed, which perplexed Kate. "That was a face that could land a man on his arse*!" he said with a deep chuckle.
He put his hands of her shoulders and continued, "I might as well be whistling jigs to a milestone, ye are a stubborn one. I guess I be a stayin' here with ya for a bit longer. "
He gave her a wink and a warm smile before gently pushing her towards her bed, "Now you just lay down there, while I go brew ye a hot tottie."

Kate gave him a small smile before she curled up undeneath the covers.
...............................
*: "arse"= ass
*: hot tottie: An Irish drink, with whiskey, tea, lemon, etc. that warms you right to the bone!

Patrick awoke when the day was gray with the early light. He longed to look upon rolling green hills, covered with delicate droplets of morning dew, and breathe in the sweet smell of the honeysuckle growing upon the rocky walls. However, as Patrick gazed out the window, it was rows and rows of dingy dwellings, with the ever hazy sky becoming lighter as dawn approached.

Patrick sighed deep and heavy and pushed the memory of Ireland out of his mind, and focused on his dear sister. He changed out of his old clothes that he had slept in, and began to tidy up around Kate's home. After several hours of scrubbing and sweeping, he was finally able to take out the last bag of trash.

As he stepped out into the grimy alley, littered with trash and beastly rats, he saw a woman very out of place in all her lace and frill.

"Brigid? What are ya doin' here?" asked Patrick.
"I came to see how you are faring. Aine rang me and spoke of your hurried leave. Pray, come take a round with me Patrick." she politely urged.

He worriedly looked back at Kate's window and gave a slow nod, still unsure about leaving her.

As they were leaving the filthy alley, Patrick stopped short and lightly touched Brigid's hand.

"Brigid, I'm sorry, but I can't be a-comin'. Me sister, Kate, is not well, and I should be attendin' ta her." he explained.
"Well then we shall have to get her a doctor. I will send my finest physician to her right away. Pray, Patrick, it will only be a short walk, and I have something of importance to ask you." she assured him.

Patrick sighed and gave her another nod. "That is very nice of ye to be a-sendin' a doctor, we don't have much money and we'll need all the help we can receive. As for the walk...I suppose it'll be alright if only for a little bit."
"Of course it will be fine, you foolish Irishman!" she replied as she winked and grabbed his hand.

They walked for several blocks, with Brigid speaking about a various amount of topics and Patrick silently nodding along, until they came upon a prestigious part of London. There they stopped for a rest on a nearby bench.

Brigid's endless chatter faded away as Patrick's mind drifted to thoughts of Kate alone in the dingy dwelling. He snapped back to reality when he heard Brigid mention Aine.

"And Aine's fiance! He also has connections to Parliament. Many women have always wanted him mainly for his power and prestige, even though he is a snobby bastard! However, Aine *does* enjoy his compay, how that is even conceivable, I have yet to discover. He just returned from Sussex last night, what were your impressions of him?" Yet her eyes told him that she was searching for another answer.
"Well...I...um..." he stuttered.
" 'Tis of no great importance. Who I really want to know about is Aine." she stated.
Her motive had become clear. "Aine?" he asked hesitantly.
"Yes you dote, Aine. You're the only one I know, who knew her before she came to London. I know she's hidden it from me, and I wish to know why. So pray, Patrick, tell me of Aine." Brigid pleaded.

The flare of ache returned to Patrick's heart as he was forced to speak of his Irish lass. He knew he promised Aine that he would never speak of it, but times had changed. And so he began to tell the story of their time amongst the emerald green hills.

Patrick couldn't help but laugh at many of the memories he had shared with Aine. Even though he wanted to push her out of his past, present and future, she was always there. Always in a story told, always in a laugh or a smile, and always part of his memories.

She *was* his past, present and future and there was nothing he could do. His heart ached at the realization and stopped short in his story and stared ahead.

Brigid had been carefully watching him as he told his story, watching his eyes dance with glee, and his mouth smile whenever he mentioned her name. And as Patrick stopped and his eyes fogged over as his mind drifted, Brigid declared, "You love Aine."

Patrick was startled back to reality with her declaration. He stuttered a few meaningless words before regaining his composure and simply asked, "How do you know?"
"I've had my suspicions since I first met you. Just from the way you watched her in the parlor, but now that I've heard you talk of her, you've confirmed it. Anyone can see the love in your eyes." she declared with a small smile.

Patrick sagged his shoulders and looked away, "Everyone except Aine." he replied gloomily.
"Yes, that is true. Friendship sometimes blinds the sight of love." she explained in a comforting tone.
"Well now that ya know, can't be a-tellin' anyone, *especially* Aine." he urged.
"But you can, and *should* take her away from that pompous ass." she said with her arms flying about in explanation.
"It pains me so to see her with Edward, but if she loves him, then that's who I want her ta be with." he replied with a sigh.

"What kind of Irishman are you? Be romantic! Sweep her off her feet and fight to get her back!" she said, puching her fist into the air.
He gave another small sigh and quietly replied, "She was never mine in the first place."
Brigid's hands moved in a whirlwind as she started to formulate a plan, "Ah-ha! You attend another ball, dashing and brilliant, I'll take her away from Edward and then--"
"No." he declared. "No, I don't want ta do this. I have accepted that I can't be with her, and so life goes on."
Her eyebrows raised in concern, "But Patrick--"
"No! She does not love me! She loves Edward, and there's nothing I can do ta change that." he yelled passionately.

And with that, Patrick got up and walked back towards Kate's home, leaving Brigid in confusion.

Early next morning, an elderly man with spectacles and a brown coat knocked softly on the front door to Kate's dwelling. When no one answered, he let himself in, and stood beside Kate's bed. He cleared his throat softly, hoping to wake one of the sleepers. Patrick's eyes fluttered open and he groggily examined his surroundings. When he saw the elderly man, he jumped up in his chair, his eyes open wide.

Patrick cleared his throat nervously before addressing the man, "Excuse me, but who might you be?"
The elderly man gave a kind smile down at Patrick and replied, "Dr. Thompson. I was inquired by Miss Brigid Farrows to come and examine young Miss Kate who I believe to be the one in the bed."
Patrick mumbled a bit while trying to focus his eyes on the doctor. "Oh ay...umm...yes. Thank you. Sorry, Kate was up all night coughin', which kept me up. We both are as tired as cows in the afternoon pasture."
"No apologies needed. May I examine Kate now, so that you both may go back to sleep?" Dr. Thompson politely asked.
"Oh ay." He then promptly got up and shook Kate slowly, until she stirred and opened her eyes.

After listening carefully to her breathing, checking her pulse and feeling her forehead, Dr. Thompson seemed to of thought of a possibility for her illness, and reached inside his coat pocket to retrieve a small, brown and well-worn book. He flipped through it, page by page, using his finger to scan the text until he found what he had been looking for. He rubbed his forehead and sighed.

"Did ye find out what is wrong with her?" Patrick asked with worry in his eyes.
"Yes, yes. I was only sighing because of all the work I'll have. I'm a bit selfish if I daresay. Miss Kate will have to be put under a strenuous medicinal regiment, for she has the sickness of the lungs." Dr. Thompson stated simply.
Patrick ran his fingers through his hair in worry and stammered, "No...she can't...Aine's father died of it...no..."

Dr. Thompson put his hands up in reassurance and replied, "Now, now my boy. Luckily you're living in London, for they have found excellent medications and treatments down at the institution. There's no need to fret. I know Miss O'Ryan, and her father was far from any medical institution where he could of gotten decent help. We also did not have the medicine then like we do today."

Dr. Thompson then reached for his medical bag and pulled out six vials and placed them in a rack on the bedside table.

"Luckily, I have the medicine with me, so we can get her started on the treatment today. I wish for her to be on the medication for the next five days. And tomorrow we can start cleansing her blood of the sickness. After that, we can start her on another set of medication that they have at the institution. By the end of this week, she shall be well. So you both can start sleeping well again." he explained.

Patrick let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Thank ya Doctor. Send me thanks to Brigid also."
"You can do that for yourself young lad, she's just outside." he said with a jab of his thumb towards the window.
"In this horrible part of town? Do ya mind startin' with the medicine as I go get Brigid?" Patrick asked.
Dr. Thompson gave a quick nod and grabbed one of the vials.

Patrick stepped outside to, yet again, find Brigid out of place in her expensive lace dress. Yet today she had dolled up her hair in one of the latest fashions, with soft, dark curls hanging beside her face. She had also applied more powder to her face today, which Patrick thought gave her a "fake" appearance. But he was more than happy to see her.

"Oh Brigid, I can't be a-speakin' of how grateful I am. Thank ya for sendin' Dr. Thompson to us, Kate probably wouldn't of been able ta survive through tonight if he hadn't come. Thank ya Brigid." he said with a large smile, that shone through his eyes.
"Oh it was quite nothing..." she said turning a slight shade of pink. "But, in return, you have to do something for me." she added.
"I'll do anythin', just tell me." Patrick said still with a smile on his face.
"Well first, let us get out of this rat-infested road. Come, I know a splendid park where we can talk." Thereupon, Brigid led the way out of the alley, with Patrick following behind.

They came to a small, but lovely garden with neatly trimmed hedges, pruned shrubs and delicate flowers. The sound of trickling water from the stone fountain created a calm atmosphere and Patrick immediately felt at ease; all his tension and gloom seemed to of evaporated away.

He looked over into Brigid's dark brown eyes, and yet, if only they were Aine's warm honey brown eyes...but Patrick shook that thought out of his head. Kate was in good hands and he could go back home to Ireland soon.

Patrick's content showed on his face with a slight smile. Brigid couldn't help but smile at his relaxed expression. However, Brigid had brought him to the park to ask him something, and she couldn't keep standing there gazing at him.

Brigid cleared her throat and began, "So, Kate and I have been talking together of a justified favor--"
He interrupted, "Kate and ye? Both of ya? I have a feelin' this won't be good..."
She tried not to smile and continued, knowing Patrick wouldn't like a thing she would say. "We have come to the decision that you must at least speak to Aine of your feelings for her."
Patrick turned away from her and replied, "Brigid, you know I won't be a doin' that. And besides, I don't know how ta even tell her such a thing."
"Kate believed you would speak of such. That is why we have decided that *I* will help you in what you will say to Aine when that time comes. Pray, Kate wishes it to be so." she said kindly.

Patrick walked over to the nearby wall and ran his fingers through his hair. He wished to never set eyes upon Aine again, even though his heart desired that more than anything. He thought of his dear sister, laying sick in her moth eaten bed sheets. Patrick rubbed his temples and uttered, "Fine."

Over the next couple of days, to Kate's urging, Patrick went on several strolls with Brigid. At first, Brigid proposed various ways that Patrick could approach Aine. They also discussed what Patrick would say to her when he finally got the nerve. However, slowly, their discussions changed directions. In the beginning, Patrick and Brigid would heatedly discuss the dilemma of Aine and Patrick, with either Patrick or Brigid stomping their foot and sighing deeply in frustration. But as time went on, their conversations strayed more and more, until they only spoke of Aine for a short while, before they were laughing at one of their own past actions.

While Kate's well-being was steadily improving, a familiarity was developing between Patrick and Brigid. As the days went on, Kate became more apprehensive about Patrick and Brigid's walks together. She knew Patrick's heart belonged to Aine, but she had seen the way Brigid looked at him. Kate began to fear that yet another heart would feel the pain of rejection.

It was a lovely and fair spring afternoon in the park. A light breeze stirred the leaves of the beech trees, but did not carry the stench of the city to the people strolling in the park. The twittering finches were enjoying a cool bath in a nearby fountain but quickly fluttered away when anyone strode by.

Patrick and Brigid decided that on this picturesque day, that they would travel to their favorite park and perhaps come to a conclusion about Patrick's prepared speech with Aine.

Brigid's joyous laughter sounded throughout the park. "You have never heard of the play, 'Romeo and Juliet'? Many of my favorite romantic quotes are in it. It would be wise of you to study it and recite the lines to Aine. I hear it is playing at the theatre in a fortnight, I shall take you then to see it."
Patrick moved his hand from their clasp and shifted uncomfortably. "Brigid, I be a goin' back ta County Donegal tamorrow. Seein' me sister is well and all, I best go back home."

Brigid rose indignatly and spat, "When were you going to speak of such matters to me? And what of me? Were you to just abandon me and never tell Aine of your feelings for her?"
"I don't know, I could never find a right moment ta be a tellin' ya. And ye knew from the beginnin' that I was never goin' ta tell Aine." he replied with a half-smile.

She gave a little sigh and slowly dropped her head, and quietly said, "I know. I just believed I would be able to...to spend more time with you."
He picked her head up with the curve of his finger and gently said, "I know, I've never had a better friend than ye. And I'm going ta miss ya."
Brigid almost broke into tears at the word, "friend", but she held her composure and replied, "I will miss you also, Patrick McGlinchey."

And with that, she looked deep into his green eyes and rested her hands on his broad shoulders. She slowly pulled him in, with his hands soon resting on her hips...

And pulled him into a kiss. And yet, there was no spark, no rapture or utter passion where Brigid had wished there was. Patrick gently pulled away and looked at her with understanding in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Brigid, for I know what you wish to be there, can never be."
"I know, I only hoped--" she began.
He gently interrupted her, and gave her a condoling smile. "I know, but there can only be friendship 'tween us, and nothin' more. I wish I could be a changin' what me heart feels, but unfortunately, I cannot. Ya understand, don't ye?"

She made a tiny sniffling sound before nodding her head, "Why don't I come and help you pack for tomorrow?" she asked, a small smile creeping across her face.
"I would greatly appreciate that." he replied, returning her smile.

They made their way across the park and through the streets of London, back to Kate's home, where a tea kettle's whistle pierced through the still air of the dwelling.

As they entered the room, Brigid ran off to take the whistling teapot off of the flame, while Patrick called for Kate.

He found her sprawled on the ground, next to her bed. He kneeled gently beside he, and reached to gently move her hair from her face. She was still breathing, but it was slow and shallow. A coarse cough caused her eyes to flutter open. Her eyes slowly rolled around until Patrick softly called her name, and she turned her gaze towards him. She smiled weakly and spoke in such a soft tone, that he had to lean his ear inches away from her mouth to hear her.

"Patrick..."
Patrick brushed the back of his hand against her cheek and forehead, she was burning.
" 'Tis alright. I'm here. Everythin' is going ta be alright." he whispered.
"I...I..." she stammered. Kate struggled with her words, her wet coughs making it hard for her to regain her breath.
Finally, she faintly whispered, "I wish ta be back home." She had another series of coughs before she weakly said, "I wish ta be back in Ireland."

"Erin"
Where the wind has a sound like a soft sweet song,
And anyone can hum it,
And heather grows upon the hills
And shamrocks not far from it.
--An Irish Poem

When Patrick's feet touched Irish ground, with the familiar melodic brogue surrounding him, he immediately felt at peace. It was not until he reached his home in County Donegal, that his soul truly felt clean. When he beheld the gently sloping, green hills, felt the salty breeze through his hair and heard the sound of sheep crossing the old country road, he gave a deep sigh of content and gently showed Kate those memorable sights. She weakly smiled and whispered, "Our family..." Patrick couldn't agree more. He had missed his Mother and Father, his six other siblings and of course, the home-baked scone with freshly steeped tea.

As the carriage turned the corner, his parent's white-washed cottage came into view. He couldn't help but grin.

Days had passed since Patrick's return back home. His family was overjoyed to see Patrick and Kate, but when they heard of Kate's condition, the atmosphere in the home soon turned grave.

They placed Kate in the parent's bedroom, where she could sleep peacefully in their large bed. As the days went on, Kate's health worsened. She was hardly ever conscious, and yet she was always tossing and turning from her feverish nightmares. Many of her visitors remarked, "The breath is only just in and out of her, and the grass doesn't know of her walking over it."

It was a common tradition of many Irish families, including the McGlincheys to tell stories and sing songs late into the night. Lately, the McGlincheys sung "Molly Malone", for they wished that if Kate ever did awake, she would wake to the sound of her favorite tune.

In Dublin's fair city,
Where girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she pushed her wheelbarrow
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

Alive, alive oh! alive, alive oh!
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

Now she was a fishmonger,
And sure twas no wonder,
For so were her mother and father before,
And they each wheeled their barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

Alive, alive oh! alive, alive oh!
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

She died of a fever,
And no one could save her,
And that was the end of sweet Molly Malone.
Now her ghost wheels her barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

Alive, alive oh! alive, alive oh!
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive oh"!

It was Patrick's turn to watch over Kate, but he was unable to sleep, her coughing kept him awake. Luckily, his older brother, Colum, came to let Patrick get some decent sleep. However, Patrick was troubled by nightmares, and after an hour of tossing and turning, he left for a walk down along ol' Killarney Road. After some time, Patrick stopped to sit and gaze at the Irish night sky he had missed so much.

A cool, night breeze caressed his face, which caused the sound of a rustling dress to float to his ears. As Patrick turned, he saw the silhouette of a young woman. A beam of moonlight crossed over her face, allowing Patrick to see the warm, familiar, brown eyes that he believed he would only see in his dreams.

There stood his Irish lass, Aine O'Ryan. She was as beautiful as he could remember. Her auburn hair stirred slightly in the night breeze. And though it was dark, her soft, brown eyes shone once again with that inner light. He longed to touch her smooth, ivory skin. Even though much of her wild spirit was diminished by her time spent in London, there still remained a small flame. She would always be his wild Irish rose.

Patrick stumbled on his words for moment before stuttering, "A-A-Aine? Is that you?"
She stood with the moon shining on her soft skin, looking lovingly down at Patrick. She gave him a smile that seemed to make even the moon glow brighter. She offered her hand down to him, and helped him to his feet before whispering, "Yes...I've come home."
"Wha...wha...what are ye doin' here?" he asked, still bewildered by her presence.
"Could we go for a walk?" she asked softly.

And so Aine O'Ryan and Patrick McGlinchey strayed down by Killarney's green woods.

They had walked in silence for a few moments, until Patrick just couldn't hold it in any longer.

"Aine...I...um..." he stammered.
"Brigid told me." she simply replied.

They both knew exactly what she was talking about. Patrick could feel his face reddening and a knot twisted in his stomach.

"I see...dear God...er...when? When did she tell you?" he said, clutching his forehead.
"Only just yesterday. I came here as I quick as I could. But Patrick...see, the reason I came was...was...was that that night, when we were at the park, I...I hid something from you. I couldn't tell ya then for I was startled at the feeling...and...and...well I was betrothed to Edward, and..." she seemed to of had her tongue wrapped up in knots, and kept stuttering nervously.
"Aine?" he asked soothingly.
She had tears in her eyes, but a smile on her face. "I love you Patsy, I'll love you forever."

It took every possible nerve in his body, to keep from putting his arms around her waist and holding her close. To keep from caressing her smooth skin, and sliding his fingers through her hair. And to keep from kissing her soft lips that looked so inviting.

Patrick swallowed rather loudly and stared into her big, warm, brown eyes and whispered, "My name is *not* Patsy." He finally pulled her into his arms and...

The wind whispered through the trees and then there was silence, except their own breathing. Patrick was sure his heartbeat could be heard in the next county over, from the way it was pulsing in his ears. There she was, Aine. Standing in front of him. And all he could see was her. The way her eyes shone in the moonlight. The way her lips trembled slightly with nerves, and uncertainty.

The kiss was warm and gentle. Aine sighed, feeling a relief from the tension in her body. It was perfect. They became lost in each other and the connection they shared. When it ended, he touched her face delicately. This was the way it was suppose to be.
..................................
'Twas down by Killarney's green woods that we strayed
When the moon and the stars they were shining
The moon shone its rays on her locks of golden hair
And she swore she'd be my love forever.

Aine and Patrick were walking home, hand in hand, when they heard a stiffled cry. As they turned the corner, Patrick saw his mother in the door frame, her face in her hands, and her body trembling from tears.

He and Aine soon started walking faster and faster until they were both running to Mrs. McGlinchey. Patrick reached her first, and gently took her hands into his and looked into her eyes.

Her eyes were puffy and red, tears still coarsing down her cheeks, she sniffled once and looked sorrowfully into his eyes, and said in a tremulous voice, "Kate is dead, she passed away only moments ago. My little girl is gone..."

She then fell into his arms, letting her tears soak his shoulder, while Patrick stood there in utter shock.

"Ireland"
It's the one place on earth
That Heaven has kissed
With melody, mirth
And meadow and mist.
--An Irish Poem

I hoped you enjoyed the second part of "Red is the Rose"! I put all my memories of my Nana, and the Irish culture in this series, I hope it shines through. I worked my little butt off this weekend, trying to get out before the weekend ended.
Please feel free to leave comments or questions in my guestbook. I hope the third part will be out soon, I'll try my hardest to get out the third (and final) part in "Red is the Rose". Or perhaps I'll let you stay with Patrick and Aine for just a little while longer...

~CREDITS~
www.sussissogoodsims2.com
www.all-about-style.com/victorian.html

I can't even begin to describe how much this place has helped me through thick and thin. Everyone there is so friendly and kind, you can't help but love the place. They'll help you with writing your stories, editing your stories, picture editing, making covers, finding sim links, talking about sims, or even just chit chatting it up about nothing in particular.

So come, warm yourself by the hearth of the Scribbler's Abode!
http://ryleerider.proboards83.com/index.cgi
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There wasn't enough room on the other slides, so...
Here's the link to listen to "Molly Malone"...I would highly recommend doing so, it adds even more to the Irish theme running thoughout this story...

http://aolsearch.aol.com/aol/redir?src=singingfish&requestId=9930775a18d3ae50&clickedItemRank=4&userQuery=Molly+Malone&clickedItemURN=http%3A%2F%2Firreel.amiryo.com%2Fmusic%2FClancyBrothers%26TheDubliners-MollyMalone.mp3