The Peaceful Village
After a few hours on a train an American girl got off the Belfast Peaceful Village Express with an unknown destination in mind. She watched the locomotive leave the station knowing one will be on the other side of the tracks later during the evening rush.
Billie McJean was her birth giving name and she was at the age where adventure was the goal. Seeing the quaint community in front of her the timid young tourist was intrigued by the quietness to the area. Letting her curiosity take over the cobblestone street ended up being a picturesque postcard image.
With nothing to do except admire the beauty of the Irish landscape she was wondering what wonderful things she could experience in this European tease. First the college student headed into one of the stores that seemed lonely since there was not an ongoing mass need for glittering trinkets that seemed important and were a one-time buy.
Browsing through the items at this moment Billie found something that she liked conjuring a magical cue of a shopkeeper.
“Just was in the back watching the television,” an older Irish grand-mother type who felt like she had to give an explanation appeared out of nowhere.
“I really like this one,” Billie pointed to the relic.
“Ah, the lover’s necklace,” the sales lady defined the item; “the legend states if you wear it you will fall in love with someone or something on the same day that you put it on.”
Starting to giggle about the fantasy she reached into her pocket to pull out a few traveller’s checks. “So how many of these do you need?” she asked, “you know I never leave home without them,” Billie was feeling like a free spirit.
“Only a few of them,” was the response.
Upon leaving the establishment the monetary transaction confirmed she owned the jewelry and in response she threw the bag in the garbage, put the receipt in her passport then draped the necklace over her head.
Nothing happened but it still seemed like a nice purchase. Continuing to investigate the area she saw a little pub that had a lunch menu on display. While reading the advertisement designed to lure a patron in the door a jeep pulled up with a very attractive guy behind the wheel.
Seeing the license plate the American read three letters “K E N “with a small notation of “ZI” on the metal sign.
Since the lovely image left Billie shell shocked she only could hold her breath as the gentlemen entered into the eatery.
This stimulating visual made Billie feel like going in to have a bite to eat. After he shut the door, she made her move with the necklace dangling and pocketbook over her shoulder. Looking around the empty place filled with ghostly occupied tables and chairs with the bar acting like the centerpiece to the positive social interaction that happened inside the walls. Seeing the guy while feeling independent not desperate Billie picked up the menu off the barrel and sat down.
Putting the dish rag down the guy came over and approached the customer in kind fashion.
“Can I get you something to drink?” He asked with a pen and pad like a newspaper reporter.
“What is a Town Line?” She asked referencing the drink portion to the menu.
“It is an amazing Scottish fruit concoction drink that is filled with three different liquors and it is great for those who are lost,”
“Well, I am not lost” Billie gave the Irishman a smirk, “so I will have a Townline Virgin.”
“Coming right up,” the service individual commented, “do you wish lunch today.”
“I will have that stew you have on special.”
“The Special Stew coming right up,” the service individual repeated, “can I ask you what your name is? It’s just a nice thing to do.”
“Well, since it’s a nice thing to do, my name is Billie McJean I come from the Keystone state in America,”
“A Quaker?” The service individual showed his knowledge, “I used to fly planes at Dover Air Force Base.”
“So, you are a military person,” Billie McJean wanted to confirm, “What is your name?”
“Ken,” he paused, “Captain Kenny O’Ryan and I used to quarterback the jets in our IRA squadron.”
“Oh,” Billie was impressed.
“So, one Townline Virgin and the Special Stew, Miss McJean from Pennsylvania,” he said walking away giving Billie a reason to tug on the necklace.
He left her alone to enjoy the stew and drink as the clock ticked away. As the arms showed three in the afternoon the dishes were empty and the glassware had no trace of spirits. Sitting back in the chair Billie McJean felt at peace nearly falling asleep.
Coming out from the bar Kenny O’Ryan had one more question for the patron, “did you enjoy your food and drink?”
“Yes, I did” Billie replied.
“Well the four o’clock train to Belfast will soon be here,” Kenny reminded her, “it is the last and only one back to the city.”
“Well I can’t miss it,”
With a new sense of energy Billie McJean headed back to the station and there was the four o’clock waiting for her to board. Finding a space by the window she found a seat and moments later peered out taking a hard look at the rural town. As the whistle sounded, she smooched the glass fixture in a way that said good-bye.
It was true the necklace was right she would fall in love this day with the peaceful feeling that came from an Irish Village a few hours outside Belfast.
The End
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