IRISH LOVESTORY - When Fate Returns

 

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When Fate Returns

I set out on a two-day pilgrimage into the past. From the train window, the countryside streamed by—restless, feverish—and with every mile it became more and more like the fields and lanes of Bagenalstown. I had no plan, no clear destination, only the quiet hope that familiar faces might emerge from the mist of memory. Perhaps Ken, or Mike. But deep down, there was only one person I truly longed for. Jack.

For a year I had lived on that dream. Every night I rehearsed it, over and over: stepping through the doors of Phelan’s, his eyes lifting to meet mine, that shock freezing him in place before the spark ignited once more. I could not silence the vision; it haunted me, torment and solace entwined.

On the edge of town, I found a small bed and breakfast. Even the short walk from the train station, down the old main street, set my pulse racing. My body trembled with anticipation. Tears threatened, though I brushed them away, unwilling to let anyone witness the stirrings of my heart. I hadn’t expected the homecoming to strike so deeply—and I was only halfway there. I promised myself the reunion could wait until morning.

The following evening, I made my way to the square, to the place where I had once worked for Paddy. The years had changed nothing. The sun’s last warmth gilded the cobbles, and there he was—Ger Donaghoe, the taxi driver. He knew Jack, of course. His grin was wide, disbelieving, as if greeting a ghost.

“What are you doing here, love? Where did you come from?” he laughed, beckoning me into his car.

I leaned close, lowering my voice against the gossiping winds of Bagenalstown. “I came back to Ireland to settle old accounts,” I teased.

His eyes lit immediately. “You came back for him, didn’t you?”

I did not deny it. “Where could I find him?”

Ger tilted his thinning silver head toward Phelan’s, where the regulars were already gathered. “Where else?”

I laughed, and so did he. That was all he needed to know. He wished me luck, and I walked away, every step carrying me closer to my fate.

The moment I crossed Phelan’s threshold, the air thickened. Déjà vu swept over me like a tidal wave. It was the scene I had played in my mind countless times. Jack was there, at the bar. He turned once, then again, staring hard, unwilling to trust his own eyes. The wonder on his face was priceless. The silence between us was alive, heavy, trembling.

He came to me at once, leading me out back into the shadowed yard, away from curious eyes. I told him I was only visiting, staying with a friend, but thought I should stop by. He leaned against the wall, drew me against him.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” he whispered, voice unsteady. “I’ve thought of you every day.” His eyes shimmered with tears as he pressed me closer, kissing me with all the years of longing we had carried. In that moment, nothing else existed. Not the eyes that might be watching. Not even that Liam was on his way to collect me.

Liam arrived soon after. I think he must have seen us, Jack and I, still locked in one another’s arms. But we were beyond caring, drunk on the miracle of reunion.

“I want to see you again,” Jack said. “Will you be staying in Carlow?”

“Here’s my number,” I said breathlessly. “I’ll be there somewhere—I just don’t know where yet.” I kissed him once more, fiercely, before slipping into the night.

Liam waited in his car, silent, asking nothing. He didn’t need to.

“I want to return to Carlow,” I told him as we drove toward Enniscorthy. “Tomorrow I’ll look for a place to live, and a job.” He nodded, promising to help.

And so our fragile, foolish romance ended as suddenly as it began—yet the ending brought its own strange relief for both of us, a quiet promise that fate, for all its cruelty, might yet return us to each other in time.